Mickala | 32 | she/her | bisexual disaster | #1 PTWH according to sources | 18+ Minors DNI | Follows and asks from @mickalaem | co-mod for @steddiemicrofics, mod for @steddieholidaydrabbles and @steddiesongfics | Requests currently closed icon and header photos by me, surprisingly AO3 | Ko-Fi
99% of my writing is Steddie, 1% is Buckingham, percentages subject to change with little to no notice.
I co-mod for steddiemicrofic (monthly exact word count challenge with a one-word prompt), and run steddiesongfics (a monthly challenge based on random songs), steddieholidaydrabbles (pop-up prompts throughout the year, daily drabble challenges in December), steddiesmuttyseptember (weekly prompts rated M or E for the month of September), steddiesportsau (weekly sports related prompts in April), and strangerthingsocweek (a week-long event centered around original characters in the Stranger Things universe).
This blog is 18+, minors DNI.
AO3 | Ko-Fi
call me sunshine, send me to space - rated e | complete | 89,621 words
the only time i feel human is when i'm in bed with you - rated e | complete | 28,150 words
it led me to you - rated e | complete | 44,219 words
little nuggets series - various ratings | complete | 82,712 words total
this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation - rated e | complete | 45,467 words
bear hugs - rated e | complete | 76,351 words
relevé - rated e | complete | 59,993 words
pretty baby, i'm runnin' back home to you - rated e | complete | 24,802 words
Tumblr Drabbles | AO3
Headcanon/Drabble Asks / Headcanon/Drabble Asks Part 2
Prompt #17 - Answering Machine | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Talk of Sex | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Post S4, They're Sick, and What If It's Demorabies?, Silly Fluff, Getting Together, Idiot4Idiot
Steve feels like death. His face feels hot, burning up, but he can't seem to get out of bed to do anything about it. He's naked, no covers anywhere to be found, and he can't seem to care one fucking iota.
The phone keeps ringing, but he's not sure he can even pick up his arm to answer it. The machine will get it. When it clicks over, he hears Eddie's voice echoing from the speaker, "Steve? Steve? Are you there? I think I'm dying."
Well, that makes two of them. Then, Eddie asks:
"Do you think Robin was right about the rabies?"
Well, fuck. Steve hadn't thought about that. He summons all the strength he has, and reaches for the phone, cutting off the answering machine.
Yanking it to his ear, mumbling into the receiver, "If we have demorabies I'm gonna be so mad."
And the noise Eddie makes means he clearly agrees.
It takes Eddie an hour to make what should have been a fifteen minute drive, tops. He's sweaty, face red, when he comes into Steve's bedroom.
"Oh, naked, yes," Eddie says, and starts stripping off his own clothes, before flopping down on the bed next to Steve. He's radiating heat, and Steve leans over and switches the fan beside his bed up to high, even if that makes it rattle.
"Who are we gonna bite first?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs.
They finally call Robin and demand that she take them to the hospital. Only, Robin still can't drive, so Nancy is the one that is fucking this monkey. Bossing them around, yelling at them for being naked as Robin keeps demanding answers to questions Steve doesn't fully understand.
How long have they been doing what?
Dying?
For a few days. Clearly.
But Nancy's still forcing them to get up out of bed while Robin screeches.
Everything hurts.
Steve can't do this. He can't walk. He'll just die in bed. It's fine.
But no, she's being mean and making him get up.
She's making him put on clothes.
And the fabric feels suffocating against his skin, and he wants to give up and lay back down. Death is fine. He's ready to go. But she won't let him.
He's definitely biting her first.
Steve wakes up, and feels better. Not great. But better. He's hooked up to an IV and Eddie is in the hospital bed next to his. Hey, Eddie's here. His memory is fuzzy. He doesn't remember how he got here. He doesn't even remember being with Eddie.
"Well, look who's finally awake," Robin says, and Steve searches the room for her. His throat feels dry. He needs a drink.
"Do I have rabies?" Steve asks, voice scratchy, and Robin gives him a look like he's an idiot, getting up and holding up the pink mug with the bendy straw. He slurps down the water, and it's the best thing he's ever tasted.
"You have the flu. The man flu. I know. So much worse than the regular flu," Robin chides, and Steve can't even fight with her. He's too sick.
"Not rabies?" Eddie asks, voice just as scratchy. He gets his own turn with the ice water.
"Not rabies," Robin confirms. "You dumbasses really thought you had rabies?"
"You said we did!" Eddie shouts, voice echoing in the hospital room.
"Under duress! In the Upside Down! Months ago!" Robin argues back, and Steve's head is pounding far too much for this. To listen to them fighting.
"Stop," Steve begs, holding his head. It's killing him.
"They gave you fluids, you idiots were both dehydrated," Robin says, and Steve nods. It has helped. He only feels like death warmed over instead of fully dead. It's an improvement, however slight.
"From all the fucking," she adds, lowering her voice, clearly disgusted.
Steve furrows his brow, "From all the what?"
Robin waves her hands around, exasperated. "The fucking!"
"What fucking?" Eddie asks, tracking her movement with his eyes.
"What fucking?" she mocks, then she sounds hurt, "I don't know why you didn't tell me."
Steve holds up his hands, "Rob. Tell you what?"
"That you'd gotten together," she says quietly, as if she has just realized again that they're in public.
"Us?!" Eddie asks, waving his hand between himself and Steve.
She puts her hands on her hips, and Steve smiles. It's like looking in a mirror.
"Yes, you!"
"Why would you think that?" Steve asks.
"Why would I think that? You were both naked in bed together. I'm traumatized, by the way. I had to see two dicks, and one of them belonged to you!" she accuses, pointing at Steve.
"You'd rather see Eddie's dick?"
"Yes!" she shouts, and then corrects, "No! I mean, I don't want to see either of them! But seeing his is better than yours—"
"—gee, thanks," Steve mutters.
"My dick is better than yours, Harrington," Eddie crows from the other bed. Not helping. He's never helping.
"You know what I mean!" she says, getting even more wound up.
Then she takes a deep breath, looking between them, "I just don't know why you didn't tell me. You're my best friend."
"Robin," Steve says, "there was nothing to tell. I swear."
"You were naked. Together," she repeats, and she can keep saying that all she wants, it doesn't mean he's gonna remember.
He glances over at Eddie, "Did we fuck?"
Eddie shrugs his shoulders up towards his ears, "I don't know." Then, after a pause: "You wanna?"
"Eddie," Robin chastises.
"Maybe," Steve says, "I heard your dick's so nice Robin wanted to see it."
"I did not!" she interjects. "I'm gonna have the doctor pull the plug on both of you if you don't stop."
"Robin," Steve says, "Do you think Eddie and I should fuck?"
She spins around, hands waving, "Well, duh! You've been dancing around it for months. I just didn't expect to be out of the loop when you figured it out!"
News to Steve.
Good news, definitely.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
Notes: I saw this and thought — ha! I know what to do with that, lol.
A story about a reluctant hero, a cursed king, and a love that transcends space, time, and maybe even death itself.
I wanna give both a huge thank you and the biggest round of applause to @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, the most amazing, patient and clever person ever and an absolutely fantastic collaborator.
The King's Gift was so much fun to work on, and I hope everyone has had as much fun reading each chapter like I did (and I hope you enjoyed the illustrations too 🫣😆)
“Dingus.” Robin catches him by the arms to stop his frantic flailing. “That guy worships the ground you walk on. You have overcome time, space and death itself to be with him. I don't think there's anything in this world or any other that you could do that he wouldn't love. Alright?”
Steve takes a deep breath, letting his answer rush out on the exhale. “Yeah, alright.”
“That's the spirit,” she beams and lurches forward to pull him into a brief, bone-crushing hug. “Now get dressed and go marry that man.”
for @corrodedcoffinfest day 17 prompt 'answering machine'
this is my 100th contribution to CCF and all related popup events! i looooove exploring these characters so much and i can't wait to keep doing it whenever i can!
rated m | 904 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: miscommunications, second chances, background steddie mentioned, idiots in love, jeff/frankie (unnamed freak who has been given a name by me because i care more than the duffers)
☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️
”It’s me again. Sorry. I know it’s stupid. It’s just. Well, I guess I don’t have anything new to say. I miss you. I’m sorry.”
Beep.
“Saw this wicked bass today and thought about that one you almost bought off that guy on the side of the road. You were gonna trade him, right? He laughed in your face and said he’d never trade a classic for some generic shit. I don’t even think he knew how to play. Anyway, I hope you’re doing okay.”
Beep.
“You didn’t tell me you were moving. Saw the sign in your yard when I drove by on my way to Eddie’s earlier. He hasn’t said anything, either, so. I guess he’s more on your side than mine in this whole thing. I dunno. I didn’t ask him about it. I don’t wanna put him in a position where he has to feel like he has to pick a side. I just wish you…I wish we could talk about it.”
Beep.
“I guess this probably isn’t even your number anymore. I’m surprised there’s even a machine set up for it still. So this will be the last time I leave one. I’m sure you don’t even listen to these. And you definitely won’t now. You left. I guess this is karma, right?”
Beep.
–
Jeff is lucky that he has parents who worked hard and made sure he could go to college. He’s lucky that his dad knows plenty of people in finance who needed to hire a fresh college graduate to make their company look good to prospective clients. He knows many people he went to high school with are never going to be making his kind of salary at all, let alone at 25.
He knows this. He appreciates that he’s lucky, and even sometimes happy.
But he still sees the life Eddie lives, the life Gareth lives, and he wonders how different things could be for him if he’d just not fucked everything up.
Frankie is fine according to Eddie, and better than ever according to Gareth. Steve just gives him a sad smile when he asks.
They weren’t more than best friends. Not officially. That’s the problem.
He convinces himself that’s why it hurts so bad. That he didn’t just lose someone he knew he was falling in love with. That he lost his best friend because he couldn’t admit to himself or anyone else how serious he was about them.
There was always an excuse. The band. School. The world almost ending. Twice.
And when there weren’t any left, he started making them. Frankie let him.
He pushed, Frankie let him.
He pulled away, Frankie let him.
And now Jeff is living alone in Chicago a few blocks from where Steve and Eddie settled. Gareth is in Boston on some scholarship program that lets him study at different Ivy Leagues every year. He doesn’t know the details. Frankie is close enough that Steve and Eddie visit him every couple of months, but not close enough that it’s a day trip. That’s all he knows.
–
”God, I hope this is your number and Steve didn’t pull a fuckin’ prank on me. He would. Anyway. If this is Jeff. I just wanted you to know I did listen to all those messages you left on my answering machine before. Even the one you thought I wouldn’t hear. I’m in Chicago next weekend if you…I dunno you probably don’t want to. But if you wanted to meet up, Steve has my number. I told him to give it to you if you ask.”
Beep.
Jeff blinks back tears. Frankie’s voice is the same. He doesn’t know why he thought it would be different.
He calls Steve and asks for his number. He’s not coming up with any excuses now. Not when Frankie made the move.
–
They’re different people in so many ways, but there’s one thing that hasn’t changed: they’re best friends.
It’s not easy at first. Conversation is awkward as they do the typical catching up, constantly on the edge of apologies that they need but can’t get out in one night. Something changes when they settle on the couch at Jeff’s apartment.
It feels more like it used to. It feels like they can talk about anything.
It feels like Jeff wants to kiss him, remind himself of his taste so he can live off of it for another few years.
It feels like there’s hope for more. He’s ready now.
–
“We should probably talk,” Jeff says as he slides back into bed. Frankie’s sipping the coffee he brought him, sheets pooled around his waist. He’s always been pretty hairy, but apparently, Steve convinced him to wax one time last year and he’s got quite a forest now. “If you…well, if you want more of this.”
“I didn’t call for one night,” Frankie smiles over at him. “But we do need to talk. And figure out what we can handle right now. I have a pretty good job, you do too. You’ve got a house, I’ve got a house. I have a cat.”
“Always thought you’d get a dog.”
Frankie laughs. “Too much work. Do you want a dog?”
“Nah. But I’ve always wanted a cat.”
Frankie kisses his cheek. Jeff leans his head on his shoulder.
Prompt #16 - Hypercolor | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Post S4, Blow Jobs, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around
1991
They haven't told anyone. It's still their little secret.
A long time coming, sure, but now that they've finally crashed full speed into one another, they've been keeping it close to the vest. Squirreled away in a coat closet tonight, while their friends are none the wiser, Eddie kisses Steve.
Desperate for him.
He's never felt like this about anyone, man or woman. Steve's just Steve.
And keeping his hands off him isn't an option. Feeling him up is Eddie's main hobby these days. Hands over his chest, his back, his thighs.
"Mmm," Steve moans, pushing back against Eddie, rubbing his half-hard dick against Eddie's thigh. One of them, if not both, is always on the verge of rock hard at all times.
Eddie got his cock sucked in the car in the driveway, Steve's head bobbing, taking the edge off. A promise for later.
Eddie hopes it's later right now.
Lust. This is lust, Eddie's realized. He thought he knew what that was. The warm buzz of attraction, of desire. He's felt that about lots of people.
This is something else entirely.
It should honestly be studied.
He slides his palm down Steve's chest until his hand is resting against Steve's hard cock, squeezing, as Steve pants against his mouth. They can't do this now. Not here.
Fuck. They're gonna.
"I need you in me," Eddie whispers against his mouth, and Steve groans.
"We can't right now," Steve says, and Eddie knows that, but he still whines in protest. He wants Steve to fuck him. He wants to fuck Steve. Anything, everything. It's all on the menu at Eddie and Steve's Fucktaurant.
Okay, if they can't fuck, they can do something else. They can't do nothing. That's not an option. Steve's hard, and it's Eddie's moral obligation to take care of that.
So, Eddie slides to his knees, bumping into junk in the closet, making a racket. They both freeze, waiting to see if they're gonna get caught, red-handed.
They aren't, and Eddie continues. Carefully unbuttoning Steve's jeans before tugging down the zipper.
"Fuck," Eddie whispers when he gets Steve's dick pulled out. He can't see it. Not really. It's too dark in here, even after his eyes have adjusted, but he can feel it. The heft, the warmth. His mouth waters.
First, he presses a kiss to Steve's bare thigh. Then he slides his mouth along Steve's hard length.
Steve moans, and Eddie taps Steve's hand, pushing it upwards, urging him to keep himself quiet, and before long those sounds are muffled. His fist pressed to his lips, trying to dampen the sound.
He's never gonna get sick of how responsive Steve is to his touch. It's addictive. Knowing what he can do to him, with ease. He can't believe they haven't been doing this for years. They wasted so much time where they could have been fucking and falling in love.
And Eddie is falling in love, even if they haven't put that into words yet. There's nothing else this could be.
The way his head swims, and his stomach flutters when Steve kisses him, tells him this is special. Really goddamn special, and he's gonna do his damnedest to hang onto him forever.
Eddie pulls off, fingers pressing into Steve's hairy thigh, "Give it to me, big boy."
And Steve does. Hand sliding around to the back of Eddie's head, tugging him down, easing his cock deeper and deeper into Eddie's mouth, into his throat, until Eddie's nose is flush with Steve's pubes.
He breathes deep through his nose, and then moans around Steve's cock as he starts thrusting. Eddie deserves a gold medal in cocksucking as much training as Steve's hit him with over the past few months.
Steve Harrington loves to get his dick sucked, and Eddie's always happy to make dreams come true.
"That's good, honey," Steve whispers, and Eddie swells with pride. He wants to be good. He wants to be Steve's honey. He wants, wants, wants.
Eddie rests his arm across Steve's clothed belly, against his soft shirt, hand splayed across Steve's side, getting exactly what he wants.
And he enjoys every minute of it.
When Steve comes, Eddie swallows as Steve slowly drags his cock across Eddie's tongue, pulling out as he starts going soft.
Eddie tucks him back into his underwear, carefully pulling up the elastic. He lets Steve fix his own jeans as Eddie stands, and then reaches for him again.
Steve kisses him, deep and hard, and Eddie feels flush with affection.
And if Steve can taste himself on Eddie's tongue, he doesn't mind. So they kiss, and touch, and get ready to leave this little bubble of privacy.
Still groping Steve, fingers digging into his back, moving down to cupping his ass. Squeezing. Holding him tight, pressing him to Eddie's chest as they kiss.
Eddie can't believe he's gotten this lucky. Life is weird.
They resurface, and nobody at the party is none the wiser.
"Uh, dingus?" Robin says, eyes wide. Staring at Steve.
"What?" Steve asks, wiping at his face, as if Eddie had perhaps been wearing lipstick that is now all over his face. Obviously not.
And Eddie plays it cool. She don't know shit. They are smooth. Sneaky like ninjas.
He reaches his hand into the bag of chips, and has started to shovel them into his mouth when Robin spins Steve around.
Eddie inhales, and nearly chokes. Death by Doritos.
There are smudges of color-changing partial hand prints all over Steve's back, but the real incriminating evidence is the two palms, and ten fingers around the bottom hem, where Steve had clearly been on the receiving end of some major grab-ass.
Eddie's eyes are wide as Steve twists, trying to see what Robin and Eddie are seeing.
Robin holds it out for him to see, and rolls her eyes.
"If you wanna sneak around and make us all pretend we don't know you're fucking, maybe don't wear your Hypercolor shirt, Steve."
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
Written for week three of the @steddiemicrofic three-year anniversary challenge
Prompt: micro, 555 words
Rated: T
Tags: Pre-Canon; Pre-Steddie; High school; Mild bullying; Steve Harrington is a sweetheart; Eddie Munson does NOT have a crush on Steve Harrington, who said that?!
“Eddie, are you listening?”
Eddie flinches, leaving a pencil smudge on the sketch he was working on. He curses and tries to wipe it away.
“Eddie?”
He looks up.
Mr. Cooper is drumming his fingers against the blackboard. Every head in the lab has swivelled to him. Tommy Hagan whispers something at his girlfriend, who snickers.
“Um… science?” Eddie ventures. Cooper's left eyelid twitches.
“This is the second time you're doing this class, Eddie. At least pretend you're trying. Do you know what fungi and bacteria have in common?”
“No,” Eddie admits, neck burning with heat. “But I could tell you the difference between a teacher and a three-dollar hoo-”
Steve Harrington raises his hand. “Please, sir. May I?”
Hagan - far enough on the edge of his seat to challenge the laws of physics - hits him in the ribs. Harrington ignores him, smiling at Cooper as he turns towards him.
“Fair enough, Steve. At least some of us are applying themselves. What do you think?”
Harrington runs a hand through his stupid, shiny hair and licks his stupid, pretty lips.
“They're both, um… tiny life forms. Micro- … What’s the word? Microorgasms?”
The class roars. Hagan actually does fall off his chair.
“Microorgasms?” he wheezes. Harrington smiles sheepishly. His eyes dart across the room. Eddie ducks his head and starts sharpening his pencil. “Is that what the girls call it? Because if it is, you-”
“Silence,” Cooper yells. “Calm down, everybody, this will be on the test. Now, who can name another example of microorganisms?”
*
“He shouldn’t have done that.”
Eddie groans and slams his locker shut. He packed up extra slowly, giving the rest of the class plenty of time to leave. No such luck, apparently.
At least it’s just Harrington, without his entourage. He’s leaning against the wall on Eddie’s right, foot propped up, bag slung loosely over one shoulder. The epitome of cool and suave. No trace of the humilation that ought to still cling to him like tar.
“Cooper,” Harrington explains, like Eddie asked for it. “I mean, he saw you weren’t paying attention, and he still decided to call you out. He’s an idiot. Don’t feel down about it.”
“I’m not,” Eddie lies. And then, because biting an offered hand is the only way he knows how to react to kindness, “Not like I made an ass of myself in front of everyone.”
Harrington shrugs.
“They’ll have forgotten about it by Monday. And besides, I was sort of thinking on my feet. Needed to find some way of getting them off your back.”
“Yeah, well, I didn't ask you to,” Eddie snaps. The guy has no damn right to be so unbothered. No damn right to have embarrassment just slide off him like water off an oil film. None at all to be this fucking nice about it. “I can take care of myself, no need for you to swoop in like some white knigh- … Hold on a damn second, did you do that on purpose?”
“No idea what you mean,” Harrington says, pushing off the wall. His hand squeezes Eddie's shoulder as he passes. “Anyway, lemme know if you need a study buddy. I feel like we could both brush up on our microorgasms.”
Eddie keeps staring at the empty corridor long after he's gone.
for @corrodedcoffinfest day 16 prompt 'hypercolor'
rated t | 476 words | no cw | tags: band manager steve (yes, again), established steddie, corroded coffin on tour
👕👕👕👕👕👕👕👕👕👕👕👕👕
There’s no way they can afford them, but they are cool, even Steve has to admit it.
“Maybe we do a small batch?” Jeff asks. He’s thinking the same thing Steve is, but he’s also just as much of a guy who likes cool shit as the rest of the band.
“Minimum order with our guys is 50. That’ll be $1000 plus shipping and the personalizing fee.” Steve mentally tries to crunch the numbers. He’s not great at math without a calculator, but at least it’s easy zeroes. “We’d have to sell them at $40 at least to make money on them.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit.”
Eddie really wants them. Hypercolor shirts are huge right now. They’d probably even be able to sell them for that much and market them as extremely limited inventory. But it’s not really a priority. They have to pay their crew, and Gareth needs a drumset before the next leg of the tour starts. There’s an outstanding medical bill from when Frankie broke his thumb and had to get a splint so he could keep playing. They need to eat.
They aren’t hurting for cash, but Steve tries to keep them in line a bit. Jeff helps a lot, but he’s a sucker for cool shit like this.
Steve will have to be the bad guy. Again.
“What if we just got some for ourselves?” Gareth asks with his big eyes and pouty lips. Steve doesn’t fall for it anymore, but it’s still hard to tell him no. “They’re so cool.”
“Yeah,” Eddie plays along, like he always does. “We can get plain ones and put our logo on ourselves and wear them.”
“If you want to,” Steve shrugs. That won’t kill their budget. “You guys have to follow the washing instructions.”
“They just go in the washing machine, right?” Eddie asks. As if he even does their laundry. He’s strictly the dish-doer. Steve can’t trust him with their clothes.
“Yes, but you can’t put them in the dryer. They have to air dry,” Steve explains. “And knowing all of you…”
“Okay, okay,” Jeff laughs. “How about we table this? We have bigger fish to fry.”
“Agreed.” Steve frowns over at Eddie, who still has his eyes on the advertisement for the shirts. “Eddie. C’mon, we’ll come back to those later.”
“I’m gonna buy them.”
Steve rolls his eyes, but it’s only because he knows that arguing is useless. If Eddie wants these stupid shirts, then he’s gonna get them one way or another.
“Sure.”
–
Admittedly, they turn out even better than they originally thought they would. They were worth every penny.
Steve watches Eddie’s hand print slowly fade from the left side of his shirt.
He puts his hand over it to make it last longer.
It’s nice having a piece of him staying behind when he goes off to soundcheck.
Prompt #15- "Calgon, Take Me Away!" | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Chronic (Canon) Injuries | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie & Corroded Coffin | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, And Is Living His Dream, It's Not Easy, But Easier With His Friends
The water is still warm.
It'd been on the verge of too hot when he'd sunk into the tub. Now, Eddie lifts his leg out of the water, knee breaking the surface, displacing the remaining bubbles. The tub in his hotel room is huge, bigger than any he's ever seen, and there's a spectacular view out the windows.
A mountain range, all blues and greens and whites.
This is relaxation.
The door to his room bangs open, then closes again.
He squeezes his eyes shut. He spoke too soon.
Gareth bounds into the bathroom, and perches himself on the large edge of the tub.
"You taking a bath?" Gareth asks, stating the obvious.
"No, making soup," Eddie snarks dryly, folding his washcloth, placing it over his eyes. He just wanted an hour to relax. To maybe work some of the knots out. The tour is killing him. His whole body aches. He's stiff in places he didn't even know he could be.
Sure, he knew it'd be hard. He knew that he'd have limitations after the bats. He knew that. He did. And yet. He may have vastly overestimated his readiness for months on the road. It's harder than he ever expected it might be.
Their first album exploded. It was wholly unexpected, and happened by word of mouth, a snowball effect. They were nobodies. Unprepared for what was about to happen to them. Eddie's raw hurt and anger at what had happened to him somehow spoke to the masses in a way he couldn't have predicted.
It was supposed to be his catharsis. His letting go.
Instead, it was a rocketship he strapped himself to, unwittingly.
Now, he's feeling the pressure. The label already wants a second album. Eddie doesn't have a second album. It took him five fucking years to write this one. They weren't even a band anymore. But Eddie called them, his friends, with all the songs already penned, just because he just wanted to get them on tape.
Jeff suggested renting a studio for a few hours, and that wasn't a bad idea. Eddie had the money. The settlement was a nice little nest egg he'd squirreled away. So, they recorded them. All professional-like. In over their heads, but having fun, nonetheless.
And Eddie figured that was that. They shopped it around, just for fun, and found a taker willing to release it, promote it.
Willing to pay them.
Now, here they are.
The old saying that you have a lifetime to write your first album, but only have six months to write your second, is no fucking joke. But Eddie's not pushing himself, no matter what the label wants. Not right now. Eddie wrote the first one with raw fucking feelings, chronic pain, and a pen.
Until he has something else worthwhile to say, he's not saying shit. If they are one and done, so be it. This is already more than he could have ever dreamed, even in his wildest dreams.
His knee starts to shake, a familiar tremor going through his hamstring. Eddie reaches for it, but Gareth's hands beat him to the punch.
Squeezing, working the indented skin, where muscle is missing underneath. At first, just living through the ordeal seemed like he'd won. It wasn't until long after that he realized what exactly he'd still lost.
And it was substantial.
"Thanks," Eddie says, and he hears the door open again. "Calgon, take me away," he mutters under his breath, but he's not annoyed. Not really.
He lifts an edge of the washcloth, peeking out. Goodie. Finding a spot on the other side of the tub.
"Taking a bath?" he asks, and Eddie laughs.
"Making soup," Gareth corrects.
"I already ate," Goodie says, fingers skimming the water, flicking some in Gareth's direction, and it makes Eddie laugh.
"Where's—"
And the door opens and closes a third, and hopefully final, time.
"—Jeff."
"We're having Eddie soup," Goodie says, filling Jeff in as he adds to the crowd. Eddie hadn't realized bathing was a spectator sport.
"Are you okay?" Jeff asks, finally saying what they must all be thinking to have gathered in this way, "Do we need to adjust the schedule? We can. We can do anything we want."
They can't adjust the schedule. Tickets have been sold. But they can't keep going like this. No, Eddie can't keep going like this. The rest of them are fine. They're still young, and in one piece.
"Do you think Ozzy would sue us if we incorporated a throne into our stage show?" Gareth asks, and Eddie hadn't considered that as an option. He can't imagine sitting, but that honestly might help. Even if he only does it half of the show.
If he only uses it when he really needs it.
"He doesn't own the concept of a chair," Goodie says dryly.
Eddie's been very open about his limitations. Obviously, he couldn't say he got attacked by bats from hell, but with his lyrics? There's no question that he's been through some shit. The scars are evident. Especially the ones on his face, his neck.
The long, jagged one across his jaw.
There's no running from those.
He's scarred, inside and out.
But the guys are always ready to help him through it. He upturned their lives, even if he never intended to. He couldn't have predicted anybody would hear this album when he called them to help record it.
Partly, just wanting to see his friends. Partly, because he couldn't imagine anyone else knowing all these personal things about him.
Jokes on him. Now, the world knows.
They're on a tour, Eddie's heart wide open for consumption, while Eddie's body is revolting. All the physical therapy in the world can't replace muscle. Can't erase scars.
Can't roll back time, to before the bats.
Eddie rests his head against the cool porcelain.
"We can see about a chair," he relents, knowing that they will take care of it. Take care of him. Always.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
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.
for @corrodedcoffinfest day 15 prompt 'calgon, take me away'
rated m | 764 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: established relationship, band manager steve, bathing/washing kind of, on the brink of real fame
🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁🛁
He’s worked so hard to get them here. A lot of sleepless nights, a lot of phone calls that went south, a lot of shows in places that weren’t welcoming or even close to sold out. A few shows that almost ended in the band breaking up, even.
But Steve is damn good at this job he’s given himself. Even when he’s not the best, he’s still pretty damn good.
Now they’re opening for Warrant, which is maybe not the exact thing they wanted, but it’s pretty damn close. They leave in two weeks. He found them a bus to rent, he found them a roadie who is willing to work for minimum wage as long as they buy him food. The driver is included with the bus rental, but they suggested tipping him at every stop so he has some extra. Steve will figure that out when they get paid.
“You’re so tense, baby,” Eddie rubs his shoulders and kisses his neck. It doesn’t help, but it feels nice, anyway. “You should relax.”
“I still have to make our packing lists and confirm the badges we need with the security teams at every venue and-”
“Okay.” Eddie bites his neck as he laughs. “Enough out of you. All of that can wait until tomorrow. I’m gonna draw you a bath with those fancy Calgon salts Jeff got you for your birthday.”
“I don’t have time,” Steve half-whines. He rarely complains, and he isn’t really now. It’s just that he really wants Eddie to understand that so much of their success falls on him. Yes, they’re talented, and yes, they’ve built a huge fan base because of their music and personalities. But Steve handles the bullshit they can’t, and usually never even find out about. “Maybe after the tour.”
“That’s six months away, Steve.” Eddie wraps his arm around Steve’s waist and tugs him towards the bathroom. “Get your clothes off. You’re taking a bath. One hour.”
Steve knows it’s not worth arguing. “Calgon, take me away, I guess.”
Eddie snorts and shoves him through the doorway. “You want me to stay with you or leave you alone?”
“Stay.”
He doesn’t really want to be alone. He’ll start to overthink and it won’t be relaxing. If Eddie insists on him not doing anything for an hour, then he should probably be there to actually make sure that nothing is what he does.
The bath is warm and the salts smell good. He doesn’t actually know what scent they are, but it’s nice.
He breathes in. He breathes out.
“Did Calgon save you?” Eddie asks after a few minutes. Steve turns to see him smiling over at him.
“I think so.” Steve smirks. “You really have me naked and you aren’t even making comments about my dick. Do you even love me anymore?”
“I’m giving you a peaceful hour!” Eddie laughs as he scoots closer to the bath. “Unless you wanna hear all my deranged thoughts about what I want to do with it.”
“It?” Steve shakes his head. “Not even me. Just it. Nice.”
“Well, it’s a part of you. And I could also tell you about the deranged thoughts about what I want to do to you.”
“Maybe when I’m done. I kinda liked the silence,” Steve leans his head back and closes his eyes, sighing dramatically.
He waits for Eddie to say something, but he doesn’t. It’s impressive how quiet he’s being.
It must be killing him.
Eventually, Steve opens one eye and looks towards where Eddie is sitting on his hands and biting his lip.
“You wanna suck my dick so bad.”
Eddie groans and covers his face as Steve laughs and leans forward so he can kiss Eddie’s cheek.
“I can’t even let you relax. You’re so hot,” Eddie explains. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I still have, what, 40 minutes of the hour? Plenty of time for you to do what you need to do so bad.”
It’s stupid that he feels more relaxed joking with Eddie than when he was sitting silently in the bath. Or maybe it’s not. Eddie’s always been his comfort, the person he goes to when shit hits the fan. That won’t change just because he’s been forced into a bath.
“Let me rinse off and I’ll be right out,” Steve pats his head. “You can do whatever you want to it.”
“I can?” Eddie’s voice pitches higher with so much hope. How could Steve turn him down?
“Eddie, take me away.” he says with his arms spread wide and a grin on his face.
rated e | 444 words | no cw | tags: older steddie, established relationship, fluff and smut, laughter during sex
📆📆📆📆📆📆📆📆📆📆📆📆📆📆📆
He’s had years to memorize Steve’s body, to know every curve and mole, to recognize the gasps and the whimpers as pain or pleasure. Years to figure out what he likes and what he doesn’t. Years to know that they work well together in every way, even the ways he never thought.
Like now, like this. They’re probably too old for this, but Steve’s always been flexible and willing.
Even at nearly 50 years old, he’s got one leg on Eddie’s shoulder, pushed almost to his own body. Eddie’s knees creak as he fucks into him hard, but Steve just closes his eyes and smiles. He loves this.
“You love this,” Eddie says, only slightly breathlessly. He’s been going to the gym a few times a week with Jeff, just to keep his body moving and muscles working. And so he can keep fucking Steve for as long as their bodies will allow. “Always have.”
“What? Getting fucked?” Steve grins up at him, wrinkles at his eyes crinkling. “You know I do.”
“Showing off. Trying to be better at this than me,” Eddie squeezes his hip as he slows for a moment. Not because he needs to, but because he wants this to last longer and it won’t if he keeps going like this. “Like you haven’t proven both of those things already.”
“Lot of talking for someone who’s supposed to be making me come.”
Eddie laughs. Steve reaches up into his recently buzzed hair.
“I miss it a little.”
Eddie keeps a slow rhythm, leaning down more when Steve doesn’t seem uncomfortable with the position.
“Me too. But it’s kinda nice not having so much of it,” Eddie reaches up to hold Steve’s hand against his head. He closes his eyes. “Change is good sometimes.”
“Now you sound like a fortune cookie,” Steve giggles. Even after so many years together, Eddie revels in making him laugh. Especially during sex. “But you look handsome like this. Might need to marry you all over again.”
“Yeah?” Eddie kisses him. He can’t help it. He really landed the hottest guy around, got to keep him around for all this time, got to marry him. Gets to fuck him, get fucked by him, do whatever he wants with him. “I could arrange that, sweetheart.”
“Might be ridiculous. We just did it a few years ago,” Steve curls his fingers and groans when Eddie hits his prostate. “I’ll do it if you want to.”
“I’d marry you every day,” Eddie ends his sentence on a moan. “You close enough?”
“Yeah, c’mon, love.”
Years may pass, but Eddie never stops learning and loving Steve. In every way he can.
rated t | 665 words | cw: coming out gone wrong (background/offscreen) | tags: gay jeff, wayne munson is the best, found family
🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈🐈
When Jeff comes out to his parents, he’s sure they’ll kick him out.
They don’t.
But it’s worse.
They don’t say anything. They ignore him. They don’t offer him dinner in the evenings, they don’t let him use the car, they tell him they aren’t paying for college. He’s got a roof over his head, but they’re pushing him away.
He barely sleeps, he barely eats, and most of the time, he has to walk to work since Eddie’s busy helping Steve get kids everywhere they need to go and working his own job. Gareth just got his license, but doesn’t have his own car. Frankie has a car, but his parents are strict about having friends in it, so he’s on his own.
It sucks being on his own.
–
“Jeff? That you kid?”
Jeff turns to see Wayne coming to a stop next to him. It’s late, but he was so careful to be far enough away from the road that no one could even see him.
“Oh. Hi, Mr. Munson,” Jeff gives him a small smile, the most he can possibly manage after a long day of dealing with assholes. “Heading home from work?”
“Yep. You too?”
“Yes sir.” Jeff realizes his knees hurt the longer he stands still. He’s barely 19. His knees shouldn’t hurt. “Long day today.”
“You need a ride, son?”
“No, I’m only another half a mile away,” Jeff tries to shrug it off, but Wayne is giving him a look that he knows Eddie probably gets all the time. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’d really like to give you a ride,” Wayne leans over to unlock the door. “It’s no trouble. You’re on the way.”
“Oh. Are you sure?” Jeff doesn’t really like arguing with adults, especially one who’s always been nice enough the few times they’ve interacted.
“Hop in.”
–
Jeff stays at Eddie’s more than Eddie does. They have the space since the whole thing in Hawkins happened and they got a new house. It’s nice being somewhere that’s quiet in a different way.
Wayne doesn’t have to work as much as he used to, but he refuses to retire. He only works three days a week, and it’s usually when Jeff works, so he’s almost never alone at home.
It’s nice.
They take turns with different chores. The few times he does go home, he almost always comes right back when he’s given dirty looks and talked about as if he isn’t there.
Months go by like this. He spends holidays with the Munsons, his birthday, weekends where the kids come over for pizza and beer supplied by Wayne because “if they’re gonna drink, might as well be here with me.”
He never came out to Wayne, but he knows he knows. He doesn’t make him feel bad or other or wrong for it. Probably because Eddie’s always been into any type of person no matter what they have between their legs. Currently, he’s pretty into Steve. At least that’s what he can assume based on the things he walks into on accident sometimes.
When Father’s Day rolls around, he’s not sure what to do. He didn’t know what to do for Mother’s Day either, but this feels…different. Like there might be an expectation. Eddie gets Wayne something every year, and apparently Steve has for the last two years, too.
The Garfield mug is silly. He already has one, but this one has a slot for cookies at the bottom.
When Wayne opens it, he laughs, and gets that sparkle in his eye that means he’s about to cry. He doesn’t, but he leans in for a hug and pats Jeff on the back.
Later that night, he fills it with milk and a couple of the cookies Steve made earlier while they sit and watch one of the old movies Wayne loves but Jeff can’t ever really get into. He keeps him company anyways.
He’ll keep returning that favor as long as Wayne lets him.
Prompt #14- Garfield | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie, Platonic Stobin, Background Gareth/Di | Tags: Bakery AU, Baker Steve, Eddie's A Smitten Kitten, Fluff
Eddie glides along the front of the glass case, looking at all the dessert options. Cookies, cakes, truffles — anything he could possibly want. The woman behind the counter is clearly itching to ask if he needs help for the second time.
Eddie puts her out of her misery, pointing at the sugar cookies. "I'll take one of those, please."
"They're buy two get one free, if that interests you," she says, and Eddie nods. Sure, he'll take that deal. "You wanna pick 'em?"
He doesn't particularly care for himself, and says so, but asks for two of the unicorns. Gareth's girls will love those.
She springs into action, carefully wrapping up the unicorn cookies, then reaches in, handing him what appears to be a homemade oatmeal pie. Two large, soft cookies, filled to the brim with cream.
Eddie pays, and the bell jingles as he leaves. In his car, he takes a bite. It's fucking transcendent. He could definitely write love songs about this cookie.
"They agreed on a Garfield party," Di says.
Eddie pumps his fist in the air. Yes. His brainwashing has worked.
"I'll hit up the place that made those unicorn cookies. You guys do the decorations. Let Uncle Eddie handle the treats."
"Fine by me," Di says, and Gareth laughs from his place at the counter.
"Sucker," Gareth snarks, but Eddie doesn't mind. He's happy to go back to that bakery. See what they can do.
The bell jingles with his arrival, and the same woman is behind the counter.
"Hey, Unicorn," she says, and he raises an eyebrow.
"Good memory," he says, approaching the glass.
She preens, and it makes him laugh.
"So, question. Can I place a special order?"
"Absolutely!" she says, reaching for the computer mouse, jiggling it awake. "Name? I'm Robin, if that makes this feel like less of an interrogation."
She's somehow off-putting and putting him at ease at the same time. Eddie smiles, and gives her all his information, as she pushes a catalog of options his way. They're good. They just aren't what he needs.
So, he begins describing in detail what he's after.
"—whoa!" she interrupts. "Let me just fetch Steve. It'll be easier for you two to hash this out without the middlewoman."
"You don't decorate the cookies?" he asks, and she cackles.
"I mean, if you want them to be very abstract, I guess I could."
Eddie smiles. He'd just assumed this was her bakery, her baby, with the way she had so eagerly wanted to help the last time.
The door to the back swings with her departure, and swings again when the cookie decorator comes through, looking only slightly annoyed.
"Eddie? Robin says you want a custom order?" he asks, and Eddie nods dumbly. He just can't remember what he was supposed to get now. This guy is nice to look at.
"Uh, yeah," Eddie finally croaks. "Garfield. Cookies. A cake. Anything else you can do to match the theme. Twin girls, turning seven. 40-50 guests."
Steve's scratching notes on a pad of paper. "Budget?"
Eddie doesn't know. He's fine with whatever. They've made good money. Corroded Coffin has been good to them.
"Whatever it costs is fine," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.
"That's a dangerous thing to say," he teases, and Eddie can't help but smile. Steve continues, "Basic cookies are $45 a dozen. Detailed cookies start at $65 a dozen."
Eddie thinks those numbers sound made up, but what does he know? He's not a baker.
"Steve. Just make them look nice and I'll pay you. Robin already took my credit card number. I'm in it now."
Steve smiles, and it's a sweet expression that tugs at Eddie's heartstrings. It's as if Steve expected to barter and haggle over his own worth. Eddie understands not undervaluing your art. Sure, his art is music, but still.
"Okay, how do you want them to look?" Steve asks, grabbing a fresh sheet of paper. Starting to sketch. One is round, the other is an outline of a fat cat, and Eddie reaches over and covers his hand, squeezing.
"Steve. I trust you. Whatever you want to do, whatever sparks your creativity. I'm not gonna micromanage your art."
Eddie lets go, and Steve nods, laying his pen down.
"You must love your daughters a whole lot," Steve says, his voice all soft around the edges.
"Nieces. My best friend's kids. But yeah, I do," Eddie says.
"Okay. One Garfield party coming right up."
On the day of the party, Eddie waits out on the curb of Gareth's house. Right next to the orange and black balloons.
Steve pulls up, waving, and when he opens his back hatch it's filled with orange bakery boxes with black cat stripes drawn on them. It's a fantastic touch, and Eddie knows whatever's inside them is gonna be fantastic.
"Okay, moment of truth," Steve says, cracking open the first lid, once they're all inside.
There's sugar cookies of Garfield in many different poses. There's Odie. Jon. Fuck, there's Grandma Arbuckle.
They're perfect.
And so are the cakes. One looks like the cartoon strip, one is Garfield himself and the other is Odie. They're gonna love them.
"This is all incredible, Steve. Thank you," Eddie says, and means it with his whole heart.
"I'll have to assemble the cake," Steve says, and Eddie watches intently as Steve does just that. Eddie notices Gareth, Jeff and Goodie all standing in the doorway, spying. He shoos them away, his hand behind his back.
Eddie knows he'll never live it down, but fuck. He doesn't care. Maybe he's talked about Steve the Baker a little too much, but can they blame him?
Steve gets the cakes stacked, the cookies and other treats plated, and it's all incredible.
Standing back to look at it, Eddie cuts him a glance.
"Any chance you want to stay for a birthday party?" Eddie asks, hopeful. "I've heard the cake's gonna be good."
Steve's smile definitely says yes, he's staying.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
Notes: This Garfield cake is what I based the description here off of. Just gorgeous!
His parents have good jobs and they never really struggle the way some of his friends do. Frankie’s dad lost his job a couple years ago and they still haven’t really recovered from that, even with his new job giving him a steady paycheck. Eddie’s uncle works his ass off and still barely makes ends meet in their trailer. Gareth’s mom is the only one doing okay, and she had to lose a husband for the bills to be paid.
He gets new clothes before every school year, and he always has his favorite food and drinks in the kitchen. He was able to take actual guitar lessons and get a brand new guitar as a gift a couple years ago. His little sisters got a swingset for their birthday, one of those ones you buy in the store and they come build for you.
And now he has the new Atari 2600 Jr. He wanted the original Atari 2600, but his dad’s friend who does international business managed to snag this for him in Europe for cheaper. He won’t complain.
He plans on spending his entire spring break playing on it. He already planned on Gareth and Frankie joining him. None of them can reach Eddie.
It’s weird. It’s not that they’re all attached at the hip, but Eddie doesn’t have that many friends. If he’s not at school, selling, or with them, he’s home.
Jeff decides to stop by. He gets the car this week because his older sister is at dance camp and his parents needed him to have it in case there was an emergency. Currently, the only emergency is not knowing where the hell Eddie is.
When he gets to the trailer park, he’s told to turn around. Cops have everything blocked off, but he can see that most of them are circling the Munson trailer. There’s yellow tape and Wayne’s truck, but no Eddie to be seen.
What if something happened to Wayne? He doesn’t see Eddie’s van, so maybe he doesn’t know. Or maybe he’s at the hospital.
He drives straight to Gareth’s and bangs on the door.
“What?” Gareth opens it, bag of chips in one hand, pajamas still on. He’s not even trying to look like he had plans for the day, which kind of pisses Jeff off. Sure, they don’t have school and Gareth doesn’t have a job, but he could at least get dressed.
“Eddie’s in trouble. Or Wayne is. But we gotta find him,” Jeff shoves him into his house. “Get dressed and put on some deodorant. You stink.”
“You stink,” Gareth rolls his eyes. “Maybe Eddie’s just sleeping in his van or something.”
“Dude. The cops are involved. And it must be bad because they aren’t letting anyone into the trailer park at all.”
Gareth goes pale. “Did you see him?”
“No. We need to find him. He wasn’t there,” Jeff explains. “Something’s wrong.”
–
Frankie ends up finding him first. They split up, which is probably not smart in this situation, but they need to cover more ground.
He hides in Jeff’s house for hours. No one knows he’s there and he begs them not to tell anyone. Frankie goes home because it would be suspicious for him to be hanging out and not playing the new Atari. He takes Gareth with him.
“What the hell is going on?” Jeff whispers when he’s sure his parents have gone to bed.
“I have to get out of here, man,” his eyes water as he curls up in Jeff’s closet. “I’ll go in an hour or so, when more people are asleep.”
“Tell me what’s going on!”
Eddie shakes his head. “Something’s fucked, dude. Chrissy-”
Jeff’s eyes go wide. “Did you do something to her?”
“No!” Eddie yelps. “No. I wouldn’t.”
Jeff knows that. But why else would all of the cops in town be at his door if he didn’t?
“She’s in the hospital. They said both her arms are broken and she may be permanently blind. You know anything about that?” Jeff crosses his arms.
“Yes and no. I know about it, but I still don’t know how it all happened. I…” Eddie sobs. “I can’t go home.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine if you just explain what happened.”
“I don’t know what happened!” Eddie’s voice is way too loud for hiding. Jeff shushes him before he can freak out more. “And you know they won’t accept that answer. I’m fucked.”
“You aren’t fucked.”
“I am. But I’m gonna run and they’ll give up looking eventually,” Eddie explains. “Chrissy will tell them the truth and they’ll probably believe her just enough to stop looking for me, but not enough to not bother me. I have to go.”
“But-”
“Jeff. I have to go.”
He wouldn’t leave Wayne if he felt like he had another option. He would never abandon them if he didn’t have to.
So Jeff says the only thing he can think to say.
“If you’re running away, I’m driving the car.”
“What?” Eddie looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “You aren’t getting dragged into this.”
“I already am just by being your friend. You think they won’t come asking questions?” Jeff shakes his head. “If you’re in the shit, so am I.”
“You can’t steal the car to run away with me. You have school next week.”
“So do you.” Jeff laughs. “I’ve got some money saved up. I’ll grab the Atari. We’ll stay at a motel for a couple weeks. I’ll tell my parents I’m touring schools. It’s fine.”
“They won’t believe you.”
“Probably not, but I’ll already be gone.”
Eddie breathes in and out a few times before he stands. “Fine.”
Prompt #13- Atari | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Mentions of Period Typical Internalized Homophobia, Mentions of Recreational Drugs & Alcohol, Teen Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Blow Jobs, Time Jump, Pre-S1 to S4, Secret Party Hookups
1983
The door closes, and Eddie hears fingers twisting the lock on the knob. He freezes, joystick in hand.
When Steve Harrington turns, they lock eyes, and Steve jumps. Eddie laughs. It's ridiculous. Like a skittish cat. If cats were dressed by their mommies in dorky khaki pants and tucked-in polos.
Harrington's face is a little flush, like he's been drinking. Smoking. Something. Eddie sold out of his stash fast tonight, even with the rich bitch premium he adds on for these parties.
Because these kids have loose wallets, spending daddy's money, and Eddie definitely takes advantage.
He also takes advantage of Harrington's queer proclivities. Harrington can deny it, can chase girls all he wants, but if Eddie hangs around long enough, at least fifty percent of the time, Steve will strike out with all the girls and come find Eddie instead. Too many times to be considered an accident, or a mistake. Still, Eddie has no illusions about what that is, or means. He knows he's a dirty little secret, but he still likes it when it ends up that way any given Friday night.
Eddie holds up his hands, joystick still clutched tight.
"What the fuck are you doing, Munson?" Steve asks, as if it isn't obvious.
"Playing your Atari. What the fuck are you hiding in here for?"
Eddie has hopes, but it's honestly too early for that. The party is still too hot, with too many people still here.
Still, Steve sits on the edge of the bed next to him, "It's just a lot tonight."
Eddie nods, and hands over the joystick, "We could take turns."
And Steve smiles, unpausing the game.
Eddie is between Steve's spread legs, and Steve is yanking at that helmet of hair of his, stomach tense, pulled taut. His hair looks better all messy, hot, just like the dark hair that's coming in all over his stomach and chest these days.
"Fuck," Steve whispers, and Eddie lowers his head again, bobbing up and down. He hasn't sucked many dicks, mainly just Harrington's these days, but he knows he loves it. The taste, the smell. Steve's dick is big, and he's clean. That last one isn't always a given, so Eddie has absolutely no complaints.
Steve's watching him tonight. Usually he has an arm slung over his eyes, like he can't bear to look at Eddie being the one that is unraveling him. He knows Steve isn't very in touch with how he feels about men. Or, at least how he feels about Eddie.
Eddie gets it. He'll get there. Or he won't.
"Oh, god," Steve says, and comes, his whole body tensing.
Eddie swallows.
When Eddie pulls back, he wipes the back of his hand across his swollen lips. With his other hand, he reaches down to adjust himself in his jeans. He's hard, fucking rock solid, and he can't help giving himself a few strokes through the rough denim. It wouldn't take much tonight. He could get there with very little elbow grease.
Usually he takes care of himself in a bathroom, or in the dark van.
"Hey! Stop that!" Steve snaps, and Eddie looks up at him, startled by the outburst.
"What?" Eddie asks, and Steve's hand finds Eddie's elbow, squeezing, trying to make him let go.
"You said we could take turns. It's my turn now," Steve says haughtily, and Eddie releases his own cock, stunned.
That's not. They don't.
Well, Steve doesn't.
"You're gonna…?" Eddie trails off.
"If you stop jerking it, I was planning on it, yeah," Steve says, bitchy, like Eddie has inconvenienced him terribly.
Well, in that case.
"Have at it, Harrington."
He's never done it before. Eddie realizes that quickly.
Harrington is enthusiastic, but there's no skill to speak of. But he isn't a quitter, Eddie will give him that. Steve keeps bobbing down, too deep, and coming up off coughing. It's not a good blow job, but any blow job is better than none. Eddie's no fool.
Eddie reaches down, and gently guides Steve's hand to the base of his cock.
"Here," he says softly, "use your hand and just focus on the head."
Steve nods, and when he goes back in, it's much better. He can lay back and enjoy it now, and when he gets close, he warns Steve.
Harrington is brave, or dumb, and takes it in the mouth.
Then, he freezes. Mouth full.
Eddie holds out his hand, and Steve spits into it.
"Thanks," Steve says, sheepish. And Eddie just shakes his head.
1986
"Oh, fuck me," Eddie groans, as Steve Harrington kneels between his knees. Sucking his cock. Squirreled away from the rest of the group. Forearm pressed against Eddie's stomach. The pressure is nice, even if it blocks his view a little.
Sometimes, Eddie felt like he'd made it all up. Another story he was telling, if only to himself. Harrington started dating Wheeler and that was that. He never sought out Eddie again until now. Never even glanced his way, leaving Eddie unsure if it had ever really happened.
Tonight, he knows he didn't dream it. They've done this before. And the motions don't even seem rusty.
Something must've snapped in Steve when Eddie had held him hostage with that broken bottle. Clearly. Eddie was out of his mind with fear, and hadn't even registered who he had a hold of.
Steve Harrington.
And now here they are, again. After all these years. And fuck if it doesn't feel goddamn amazing.
When Eddie comes against Steve's tongue, Steve pulls off. Looking at him.
Eddie holds out his hand.
Steve gives a silent laugh, air puffing out of his nose, and then he swallows.
Eddie smiles, cupping the side of his face, rubbing his thumb against Steve's cheek. This has been a bad fucking day. The goddamn worst of his life.
But Steve's here again, and he never imagined that would ever happen. And there's really only one thing to say:
"It's my turn now."
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
