Steve has been thinking about getting a tattoo. Since they started dating a few years back, his boyfriend has practically covered his own body in ink. On the couch, when they're cuddled up, he loves tracing Eddie's tattoos, asking about each one, and hearing why they're special to him. He wants something like that, a place on his body to immortalize the most important thing in his life.
"I've been thinking, maybe I should get a tattoo," he says as nonchalantly as possible, as his fingers follow the sweep of each bat.
Below him, Eddie bolts upright, his head almost colliding with Steve's chin. A look of deep concern has overtaken his face as he asks tentatively, "where?"
"Where? What do you mean where? I'd just go to your guy."
"No, where on your body do you want a tattoo?"
"I was thinking..." Steve trailed off. In reality, he hasn't thought it through that far. He doesn't really even have a design in mind, let alone a placement, so he offered his own forearm to Eddie. "Here maybe."
"Oh no, no no no," Eddie insists with a shake of his head, "not there. You can't cover up your best freckles."
"Okay, fine. What about here?" Steve asks, pulling up his shirt to expose his torso, his hand vaguely gesturing to his chest awash in hair.
"Absolutely not! It's not worth the risk."
"The risk? You said tattoos are perfectly safe."
"Yeah, they are. But shaving your chest isn't. What if some of the hair doesn't grow back?" Eddie explains as he runs his fingers through the dark thicket. " That's not a risk I'm willing to let you take, Stevie."
A deep laugh erupts from Steve as he hikes up one leg of his sweatpants. "What about here then?" he inquires, gesturing to his upper thigh, though he knows the answer before Eddie even speaks.
"But my favorite mole is on that thigh, you wouldn't take one of my favorite moles from me, would you?" Eddie's eyes are puppy dog big, as he tilts his head to one side. "And before you even suggest it, my second and third favorite moles are on your other thigh."
They search the rest of his body together, finding a problem with each and every spot, until Eddie announces with great exasperation, "face it, sweetheart, you're already a work of art."
A groan escapes Steve's lips at the cheesy compliment yet he can't help but lean over to kiss his boyfriend, his hands wrapping their way around the creatures creeping up Eddie's neck, until Eddie's lips break from his long enough to say, "unless you want to get a lower back tattoo. I've always thought Michelangelo's David would look even hotter with a tramp stamp. Maybe 'Property of Eddie Munson'?"
"Oh, fuck off!" Steve grumbles as he pushes his boyfriend down onto the couch.
"Don't like that one? We can workshop it," Eddie manages to get out before Steve's lips silence them both.
Totally forgot to post this earlier but I finally got my package from @2jihiir0!! This standee is soooo delightful, can't wait to look at it every day 🥰🥰 + bonus sticker of Kas my beloved
Prompt Day 16: Hypercolor | Word Count: 996 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing(s): Steddie | Tags: secret relationship, bi4bi steddie (not important to the plot but important to ME hehe), eddie's ill-defined general insecurities, inconvenient handprints (or are they??)
✋🏼🤚🏼✋🏼🤚🏼✋🏼🤚🏼✋🏼🤚🏼✋🏼🤚🏼✋🏼🤚🏼✋🏼🤚🏼✋🏼🤚🏼✋🏼🤚🏼
“Where are you supposed to be right now?”
Eddie gasps the question out between hot, wet kisses. For a long moment dominated by a heady press of lips, he gets no answer, so he lifts his hands and buries them in thick, gorgeous hair, using his leverage to separate them a scant inch.
“Grocery shopping,” Steve breathes, heavy-lidded, his pupils blown and fuck, he’s so gorgeous. Eddie has long resigned himself to never getting over that fact, and actually, he loves the little thrill of lust-longing-love he feels whenever he catches sight of Steve’s face. Eddie could – has – written song after song about how beautiful Steve is, how fun and smart and badass he is, how easy it is to love him and so on and on. The rest of Corroded Coffin give him so much shit for it – how many metal bands have albums worth of love songs banked? they always tease – but Eddie’s songwriting process very much consists of dumping out what’s going on in his head in metre and verse. So it’s not his fault, really, because his head is full of Steve, like, 90% of the time on any given day.
But the thing is, no one knows the songs are all about Steve.
Which is fine, really, it is. They’d gotten close after Hell Break ‘86, squirrelled away together at Casa Harrington to keep Eddie safe from the righteous mob, and then the town had gone into military quarantine anyway. Eddie was fully recovered by then, but the arrangement was working for them, so they’d just continued on, until it was a random Thursday night and Eddie was laughing at one of Steve’s stupid dad jokes while he picked a record from Steve’s collection to play while they made dinner together, like they did every night, and being struck by the realisation that Steve Harrington was his best friend.
There was always something underneath it though, a little zing of delicious tension. Maybe they’d have danced around it forever, if not for the pesky Upside Down problem, if not for the tower, if not for Steve nearly falling off the tower. If not for nearly flinging himself off it too, to catch Steve’s arm. If not for the oh realisation in that moment.
They’d kept it secret because it was new and precious and fragile. Neither of them had ever felt that way about another boy before, and they didn’t need any external pressure on them while they figured it out, together. And now, suddenly, it’s like they’ve blinked and it’s 1990, a whole new decade, and they’ve been in a secret relationship for two years. It’s fine. Eddie doesn’t ever wake in cold sweat, unable to shake the notion that he’s not good enough for Steve, that he’s something bad and embarrassing, to be hidden away forever. Never.
He doesn’t even want to tell that many people. Just Robin – maybe it’ll stop her unbelievable knack for calling them the literal moment Steve’s getting a welcome hand down Eddie’s jeans. And Jeff, who keeps looking at Eddie like he lost some brain cells in addition to his left nipple in the bat attack, whenever Eddie brushes off the attention of girls at their shows. Jeff’s asked a few times, all sly and teasing, when Eddie is going to introduce his secret girlfriend to the band.
“Where are you?” Steve asks, the you wavering on the moan that punches out when Eddie slides a thigh between his legs.
It’s summer, which means everyone is back in Hawkins, and subsequently have completely invaded Casa Harrington-Munson, abusing pool privileges and their pantry. It’s also meant almost zero alone time, for like three weeks now, and they’re both getting a little desperate and risky. They’re so used to it usually being just the two of them in the house.
“Packing instruments,” Eddie murmurs, kissing along Steve’s jaw. “Have I told you I hate these shorts?”
They’re all the rage, Eddie knows because Steve told him so, some bullshit gimmick where the fabric changes colour between hot and cold. Hypercolor, Steve called them. Whatever they are, Eddie’s eyeballs are offended by the violet, violent blue.
“So many times,” Steve says, with a little chuckle. He makes a little noise of delight when Eddie’s hands drop to his asscheeks and stay there, holding firm handfuls. “I think they’re funky.”
“Dork. Can’t believe how much I love you,” Eddie sighs, kissing Steve senseless instead of waiting for his undoubtedly bitchy retort. “We should stop,” he says, though it’s the last thing he wants. Unfortunately, common sense has to prevail when they’ve got a houseful of their nearest and dearest, all the screaming and laughing and splashing muffled only by the walls between them. He squeezes Steve’s cheeks again, kneading, revelling in his beloved’s laughter. “Okay, now we stop.”
They tumble out of their hiding closet after a quick check that the coast is clear. When they reach the kitchen, Eddie only has half a second to process the sight before him – Jeff and Robin conspiratorially eating slices of the birthday cake Steve made for Lucas that has not yet been presented to the birthday boy – prior to the screech of “What the hell, Buckley?” that Steve lets out.
“What the hell me?” Robin demands right back, around a mouthful of cake. “What the hell you, Steven!”
“You wanna tell me why you’re ruining Sinclair’s cake?” Steve says, that flush Eddie so adores climbing his neck. He tries not to stare too long.
Jeff leans into Robin’s ear, whispering. She narrows her eyes at Steve, gaze pointedly dropping to his shorts. Her tone is triumphant – clearly she thinks she’s playing her trump card as she says, “You wanna tell me why you’re here, not grocery shopping as previously alleged, coming down the hallway like you’ve been up to no good, with Eddie’s handprints on the asscheeks of your colour changing shorts?!”
Eddie Munson sees a cute guy at a club, so he builds up every ounce of confidence he has, and goes up to him.
Steve Harrington feels a tap on his shoulder, and is greeted by a man full on bowing before him.
Now usually Eddie bowing, in a club playing music at high volumes, would never be the way to go. Luckily, Steve is quite unusual when it comes to his brand of romance.
So they get another round of drinks at the bar, they dance, they square away in a corner somewhere to yell/talk. It’s a wonderful night.
It’s an even more wonderful morning. Going from the club to a diner to get some delicious, greasy breakfast, where they talk some more… at a reasonable volume this time.
When it’s time to part ways, they exchange numbers, Eddie fully expecting never to hear from that guy again. But when he gets to his place, there’s already a message from Steve, who called him from a payphone, to ask him out on an official date. Eddie calls the number Steve gave him and leaves him a message accepting…
And if anyone in the future asks them when their first date was, they always say the diner.
July Prompt: Years | Word Count: 444 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Lingering Upside Down Physical Disabilities | POV: Eddie | Tags: Future Fic, Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Reconnecting, Confident & Flirty Steve
His cane digs into the grass, the rain overnight making the ground a little soft for Eddie to navigate easily. Nothing goes easy for him, so he expected nothing less. At least it has cleared off for the day, leaving the sun warm on his back.
Eddie truly never thought he'd be back here. In this town. Hell, in this state. He bailed before the stitches came out, putting it all behind him as much as he could.
Now, he's thirty-three, sometimes feeling eighty-three.
The days are often long, but he'll never take them for granted.
He's not sure how Henderson even tracked him down, but he did, and when Eddie opened his mail to find the wedding invitation, he decided he wouldn't ignore it. Henderson went to the trouble to find him, and well, the least he could do is show up.
The kid's getting married.
It's a big crowd, and Eddie hopes he'll blend in. Go unnoticed, even. It's hard, his cane draws the eye, and there's nothing he can do about that.
Sometimes, you can't get the things you lost back.
His muscles, those tendons. His good name. If he ever had such a thing. Because sometimes — well, sometimes things just stay fucked.
Eddie slides into the last row of white chairs, laying his cane over his lap.
The wedding was nice. Henderson looks happy and healthy, so in love with his beautiful bride. Eddie picks at a slice of cake at a back corner table, alone.
A hand grasps his shoulder, "You cut your hair."
Eddie looks up, smiling. Steve Harrington. He hasn't seen him in years. Over a decade.
"Steve Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve's hand slides down Eddie's arm before clutching Eddie's hand in an awkward grasp that maybe once wanted to be a handshake. Steve sits, and Eddie turns in his chair the best he can, facing him.
Steve rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, staring at Eddie. Grinning.
"What?" Eddie asks.
"You look so different," Steve says.
"You don't," Eddie banters back, and Steve waves him off. Even with a couple threads of gray at his temples, Steve still looks like he always has.
"How's life?" Steve asks.
"Honestly? Really good," Eddie answers, and Steve's smile somehow widens.
"That's good. Married? Kids?" Steve asks.
Eddie shakes his head, "Nope. Nobody. How many of these kids are yours?"
Steve laughs, "None. Still single and ready to mingle. Maybe I'll connect with somebody interesting here," Steve says, dragging his finger through the icing on Eddie's plate, sucking his finger into his mouth. Eyes never leaving Eddie's.
Fuck. Maybe things can go easy for him.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️
written for week 2 of the @steddiemicrofic july challenge
prompt: years | wc: 444 | rated: T | tags: post Vecna, Eddie lives but no one knows, Steve refuses to give up hope despite everything, second chances, open/ambiguous ending | also on ao3
To everyone else in the room, he’s just a guy on a stage. To Eddie, he is a harsh reminder of the reality he’s spent years trying to forget. A memory he never completely managed to erase, now suddenly breaking free from where it’s been locked away. Flooding him all at once with the sorrow and pain of another lifetime he never got to fully live.
“Hey, uh,” the guy says and clears his throat. “This is a song about missing something you never really had.”
On the first strum of his guitar, his eyes fall shut, like maybe it’s easier for him to pretend that he’s alone in the room. And then he sings, lips caressing the mic as they spill bittersweet words that feel like they were taken straight from Eddie’s own heavy heart.
It's unfair how at ease he looks despite the melancholy he carries through the melody he plays, the softness of his features clashing so violently with the image that's been imprinted on Eddie’s mind.
Because the last time Eddie saw him, he was dressed for war. With deep worry lines on his face, wearing a scatter of barely healed scars and bruises from earlier battles like medals of dishonour, determined to fight and win no matter the cost.
The last time he heard his voice, it almost got lost in the ringing echo of another, choked-up and trembling with anger, before it faded into a pleading whisper against his ear.
‘Stay with me,' he'd begged but Eddie couldn’t make that promise.
Not because he didn’t want to but because they wouldn’t let him. Patched him up and shipped him off to bumfuck nowhere. New identity, new start, new chance at life – that’s what they promised him in return for his silence.
It’s been so long.
But here he is, Steve, and it feels like not a day has passed since they last stood across from each other, despite the years so clearly visible on both their faces. One singing about loss, the other finding himself again after all this time drifting through a life that wasn’t his.
The song ends on a when not an if, like a happy ending is inevitable.
And finally, their eyes meet.
To everyone else in the room, the guy smiling back at him is just one in a crowd of many. To Steve, he’s the missing piece to a life that never felt complete without.
There he is, Eddie, with tears in his eyes but alive. Just like Steve never gave up believing he was.
And now that he’s finally found him, he won’t let him slip through his fingers again.
@steddiemicrofic July prompt "Years" | 444 words | Rated E | CW: explicit sex, trapped in the UD
Lighting flashes above the cloud cover, illuminating the Above for a moment and then it’s gone. He won’t call it the sky, not even after all this time. He won’t.
Eddie won’t, either.
Steve places his fingertips against the window and raises his knee to give it some support from the sill. Behind him, Eddie groans, and winds his arm around Steve’s middle. He can feel it, when they both sink into the altered position, when Eddie’s cock sinks in that little bit more.
“Wish it would rain,” Eddie mutters into his ear. He’s slow, this time. It’s different, every single time. Steve chalks that up to Eddie’s endless creativity and their promise to each other to not go insane inside this little cottage, in the Upside Down, where they’re either trapped or forgotten, or both.
“Yeah?” Steve grips the windowsill, uses it for leverage to push back, making sure to undulate his spine as he goes. He wants to be sexy, for Eddie, pretty. He wants to make it good.
Eddie makes a noise that’s less appreciation than shock. They’ve been down here for years; at least, Steve thinks so. And he can still make Eddie make noises like that, make him draw back in surprise at a joke, a home repair, or yet another failed idea to get out of here.
In some ways it’s the most invested he’s ever been in a relationship, and he can’t even buy the guy flowers.
“Wish I could fuck you in the rain.” Eddie punctuates that with a broad lick up the back of Steve’s neck.
He could worry about that statement. It could go down a road of fear and desperation but Steve’s brain shorts out instead. He reaches back to clutch Eddie’s ass, ducks his head down. Hopes Eddie will reach up and push fingers into his mouth. He’s come to love Eddie’s fingers. He came to love Eddie in a matter of weeks.
It’s proximity Eddie had shouted at him back then, pulling his own hair at the roots. I’m your only option.
That’s just the conditions Steve had yelled back. It’s you! It would always be you.
“Everything I need is in this bed,” Steve says and he lets go of the sill, tugs Eddie’s hand down to wrap around his hard cock. “You and this bed.”
“Fuck,” Eddie says and Steve has to laugh. Reducing Eddie to no words always feels like a win. Then Eddie starts to stroke him, groaning against his neck, and Steve loses his own words as well.
They’re found like that, twined around each other. Alive, asleep, and in love, when the rescue finally comes.
AU where the first time Steve and Eddie have sex, Steve says that Eddie was ‘so much nicer than the other guys’ and Eddie silently freaks out bc
1.) Steve has been with other guys??? That means this wasn’t some kind of experiment???
And
2.) Eddie cannot stress enough that the way he was treating Steve was the bare fucking minimum bc he didn’t want to let on how much he really cared about him, who the fuck are these other assholes that apparently set the bar so goddamn low????
Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson do not get along. They’ve been sniping at each other since saving the world from Vecna and everyone is tired of it They would fight at the bar. They fight in Family Video. They fight over music, over movies, over whether Eddie’s van is “a death trap”.
But what nobody knows is Steve started it. And Steve keeps starting it. Because the first time Eddie got really mad like red faced, voice cracking, gesturing with those rings and hair all wild from running his hands through it Steve’s brain just short circuited. God, he’s so hot when he’s pissed. He would think to him self.
So now Steve has a system. He says something dumb about his music choice and Eddie explodes. Steve wins. Not the argument. But just to see him.
Eddie doesn’t get it at first. He just thinks Steve’s an asshole who peaked in high school and never learned to shut up. Until one night Steve’s baiting him about “real music” and Eddie shoves him hard against the brick wall outside the Hideout, and Steve smiles.
Oh.
“You absolute freak,” Eddie says realization dawning and devastating. “You like this. You like when I—”
Steve cuts him off by kissing him, because since he’s been caught he might as well give in.
Soulmate AU where the names your soulmate uses/will use for you the most appear on your skin. Steve isn't surprised by Stevie, he's endeared by sweetheart, though he's absolutely baffled by Vanimelda.
On the flip side, Eddie is amicable to Ed, is a bit flustered by baby, and totally bewildered by Ashayam.
It's not until they get together that they both realize what fucking nerds they both are. With Eddie using the same Elvish term of endearment that Aragorn uses for Arwen, and Steve (a closet Trekkie) having to explain that he got Ashayam from a Spock/Kirk fan zine he swiped from his aunt.
