Hi! I'm Apple. I currently write for Stranger Things. The majority is Steddie, but I do branch out from time to time. After I ran out of link space in my old masterlist, I let it fall about a year out of date. But now I've created sub-lists to sort everything out again.
Last updated: July 20th, 2026
Quick Navigation:
my ao3 | thisapplepielife: short fics | steddie micro | corroded coffin fest | steddie song fics | spicy six | sub eddie week | steddie week | a stranger summer | steddie angsty august | steddie smutty september | steddie spooktober | steddiemas | steddie holiday drabbles | steddie bingo | stobin month | steddie sports au
My hashtag #thisapplepielife: short fics gathers nearly every fic I post on Tumblr in one place. Short is relative, of course, but I've ended up using it for anything that isn't a long fic or series. There's gotta be a couple hundred standalone fics in there by now. With a lot of them not on ao3 at this time.
I also run the event blog @corrodedcoffinfest - if you'd like more Corroded Coffin fan works in your life, come join us!
Author's Self-Rec Fic: Tuesday's Gone With the Wind - this is my favorite thing I've written. So, if you wanna know what I'd tell you to read? It's that one.
(Some of my work is rated E, so please be mindful of ratings.)
I currently have written three long fics that are all complete and ready to read in full. Tuesday's Gone With the Wind is my personal favorite, Take the Money and Run is my most popular and All Across the Universe is my most recent!
[click here for my LONG FIC masterpost]
Don't want quite as big of a bite? Check out these chaptered fics.
[click here for my CHAPTERED fic masterpost]
Fics that are hooked together in a connected universe, even if they can often be read standalone.
[click here for my SERIES masterpost]
Single fics that aren't too long, nor too short. I guess they're just right?
[click here for my TEEN ONE-SHOT masterpost]
[click here for my MATURE/EXPLICIT ONE-SHOT masterpost]
All the short fics a heart could want! I've written a lot for different events. Steddie Micro Fic, Steddie Holiday Drabbles, Corroded Coffin Fest, etc. Find all those fics here:
[click here for my STEDDIE MICROFIC masterpost]
[click here for my other FICLETS & DRABBLES masterpost]
All the fics I've written that are set in the Tuesday's Gone With the Wind universe.
[click here for my TUESDAY'S 'VERSE masterpost]
If you know, you know. Introduced during Tuesday's, and now they have shown up all over the place in my writing.
[click here for my GARETH/DI masterpost]
All the other pairings that also need some love in the fandom! Some are rarer than others.
[click here for my RAREPAIRS masterpost]
Gen fics also need some love in the fandom! Wanna read about Platonic Stobin, Gareth & Steve? This is the place.
Prompt #24 - Cassette Tape | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Inanimate Object Obsession | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Curses, Museum Janitor Eddie, And The Headless Marble Statue He's Named Steve
Eddie slides the cassette tape into his Walkman, grabbing his mop and bucket. Working at the museum after hours isn't so bad. He's all alone surrounded by art. Not really the art that he likes to make, but art nonetheless.
He keeps the place clean for all the guests to enjoy during the day. Polishing the floors. Wiping all the fingerprints off the glass displays. Scraping dried gum from under the handrails.
Tonight, Eddie's starting in the sculpture hall. His favorite.
He scrubs the floor in front of the bronze statue of a naked man whose junk has been rubbed completely golden by the perverts who have spent centuries fondling him. The museum discourages it, but the damage has already been done. They've worn through the patina and the bronze already.
Now, he's the statue with the golden dick.
Eddie named him Peter. For obvious reasons.
And next to Peter is a marble statue that's missing its head. Eddie is fascinated by it. It doesn't look like any marble statues Eddie's seen before. This is no David. No chiseled hard body. No, this man looks real. He even has sculpted chest hair.
He's a ten, even without his head.
Eddie calls him Steve.
Then, there's a collection of busts. Eddie wonders if any of these heads were Steve's. He doesn't think so, but it's fun to imagine what he might have looked like. If he was based on someone real at all.
He feels real.
Too real. Because the thing is, and Eddie would never admit it, but he thinks that Steve moves.
He knows that's impossible. He must weigh thousands of pounds. Nobody is pushing him around. Where he's set, he's there until they winch him out. Even if Eddie thinks his foot used to be in a different position.
Still, it's fun to imagine. And he tells Steve all about his theory. That he's like Emmy in Mannequin ready to come to life. Steve doesn't answer.
He can't. He's headless.
And made of marble.
When Eddie's done with this hall, he turns off the lights and moves onto the next.
The next night Steve is facing in a different direction. It's not subtle this time. It's a substantial shift.
Eddie stands right in front of him and cups his own chin, studying the rotated work of art.
"What'd they do to you?" Eddie finally asks, reaching out and caressing Steve's smooth arm. It feels too warm. They really need to keep this place a little cooler if marble feels warm to the touch.
Oh. Maybe it's his own heat, transferring. That makes more sense. Eddie thinks it'd be awful to have cold hands all the time.
He slides his hand down Steve's arm, and squeezes his sculpted hand. "That better?"
Steve doesn't answer.
"Did you not want to look at Peter's shiny dick any longer?"
Steve can't laugh, but Eddie does. Letting go.
Can you love art? Eddie thinks so. Because Eddie loves him. Feels a connection to him. And he knows that the best art makes you feel, but he just never assumed he'd feel so much about a headless marble statue.
Then, Eddie holds up his boombox. He brought it tonight. Thinking maybe Steve and Peter might like some music played aloud.
He forgoed the metal, just in case he winds up not alone, and instead pops in a Queen tape. Steve looks like he'd like Queen.
So, Eddie works, and they all enjoy the music together. At least, Eddie likes to think so.
"That's a wrap," Eddie says as he finishes up, reaching for the light switch, "See you boys on the flipside. Night, Steve."
The following night, Steve is gone.
Eddie stands in front of the empty exhibit and stares. He hadn't heard anything about Steve leaving. Usually when an exhibit is on the way out, it is announced. There's signage. Last chance to enjoy, and all that.
But Steve is just gone.
Eddie feels grief at the loss, even as he tries to convince himself that he's insane for caring so much about a statue in the place that he's paid to clean the bathrooms, but he does.
Still, he does his work half-heartedly, and then pushes his mop bucket out of the statue hall, and down the hallway, and into the men's bathroom.
He's mopping the floor, paying extra attention around the urinals—
"What's your name?"
Eddie nearly jumps out of his fucking skin, whirling around, brandishing his mop like a soppy weapon.
"Who said that?" Eddie asks.
"Me," the voice calls from the stall, and all Eddie can see are bare feet. Familiar toes wiggling.
"And who is me?" Eddie asks, but he knows.
He knows.
And he feels crazy. Insane.
"Steve," the man behind the door says.
"Steve," Eddie repeats.
"Well, that's what you named me," Steve says.
Eddie pulls his hair in front of his mouth, sliding it between his lips.
"And what was your name before that?" Eddie finally asks.
"I didn't have one. That was part of the curse. I needed to be given a name with love."
"Oh," Eddie says softly, reaching for the door handle. Then pauses.
"Quick question. Do you have a head?" Eddie asks, because, well. That's a concern. He needs to be prepared if Steve's headless.
"Pretty sure I do," Steve says, and Eddie takes his word for it. Slowly pushing open the door. Eyes skirting upwards. Steve's still wearing the draped sheet, the partial toga, Eddie guesses.
His skin is golden, and full of chest hair, just like Eddie knew it would be. Hot damn.
And he steels himself, looking upward, eyes falling on his face. He has a face!
"Oh," Eddie repeats. Steve is gorgeous.
"I have a head don't I?" Steve asks, hands cupping the sides of his face.
Eddie reaches forward, prying Steve's hands off his cheeks, "You definitely have a head. A very nice face."
And Steve laughs, stepping forward, pressing his warm, soft lips against Eddie's.
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: Inspiration for this one was also from a Nightvale proverb! I love when I see one and it makes me think of something totally outside of the box!
Prompt #23 - Acid Wash | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Some Friendly Stalking | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie & Steve, Pre-Steddie If You Squint, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin | Tags: Post Series, Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, But They Don't Know That, Witness Protection, Reuniting
Eddie watches from afar. Standing under a tree on campus. Cap pulled low.
They look good. Happy. Both of them. Even if Henderson is wearing some loud-ass shorts. Kid has never shied away from being himself. Weird Al shirt wearing freshman, to right now.
Harrington's now wearing acid wash jeans, fashion always changing. He can picture his closet. Polos shoved to the back, making room for this stuff. For Guess and Z. Cavaricci. Pepe.
Eddie's been in the mall. He sees what they're selling at Brass Buckle, and Steve looks like one of those store mannequins right now. Eddie misses the Levi's.
Eddie misses everything.
He knows he's not supposed to be here, not supposed to be stalking them. But Eddie has kept an eye out, and an ear to the ground. It's been harder than he imagined to let go of everything. He hated Hawkins, and only wanted out. And now that he is? All he wants is to go home.
By following Henderson, he's inadvertently followed Harrington. And Steve stayed. It puts an ache in Eddie's chest. Everybody else scattered, but Steve stayed, and now Eddie is unfathomably jealous.
Henderson has tattoos, his tattoos. Eddie grips his own forearm, palm pressing hard.
He misses them.
But he can see the stark black proof on Henderson's arm that he's missed, too.
Eddie has made it a mission to check up on everybody in a loop. Wayne. Gareth, Jeff, Goodie. Henderson, Harrington. And then he starts all over again. He isn't living, because he's stuck in this holding pattern watching everyone else live without him.
Time is passing, and Eddie Munson is dead. A ghost.
Not literally, but he might as well be. He didn't realize how much it would hurt to take the shut up and disappear deal. Whoever he is right now is a mirage. Prone to disappearing if he, or anyone else, gets too close.
Henderson hops into Steve's pickup, and they're gone again. Pulling a travel trailer behind them.
Eddie is standing in front of the pre-packaged sandwiches. Looking at the dire options. He wonders what the risks are of eating tuna salad from a gas station. He gets bumped into, and he takes an unsteady step forward, his stupid fucking leg, getting ready to brace himself against the cooler door if he stumbles.
"Sorry, man. My bad," the voice says, and Eddie's whole body tenses.
Steve. That's Steve Harrington. No question about it.
"It's okay," he says, and doesn't turn to look. He can't. He just clutches the handle of the cooler door. He fucked up. Thought they were gone. Out of town. Off on some adventure together. Thought, well, fuck. Thought he was stealth enough, but he should have known he'd be dumb enough to get himself seen eventually.
He wants to be seen.
"Mind if I just grab something real quick?" Steve asks, patting Eddie on the shoulder. Friendly.
Eddie nods, and steps aside as best he can. He can't really move laterally too well these days. He's not steady enough on his feet for that. But he gets out of the way, only stumbling a little, dragging that foot that doesn't always cooperate, and then limps straight for the bathroom, locking himself in the single stall.
Breathing hard and uncontrolled.
That was a close call. Too close.
Boat shoes. Pretentious, stupid boat shoes are standing in front of the stall.
"Uh, hey, man. I know this is weird. But. Here," Steve says, and his hand appears over the stall, a plastic bag dangling.
Eddie takes it. It's heavy.
Inside there are three different sandwiches, a couple bags of chips, some candy bars, and different cans of pop.
"I didn't know what you wanted. And it seemed like you were having trouble deciding before I nearly knocked you down. Sorry about that. So. Here."
The tears burn Eddie's eyes.
"Thanks," Eddie chokes out, and he reaches up and grasps the top of the metal door. Hanging on, like he's drowning.
Maybe he is.
"No problem," Steve says, and stands there a beat longer, waiting to see if Eddie is going to say anything else. When he doesn't, Steve turns to leave. Eddie watches his feet until he can't see them any longer.
Eddie takes a deep breath. Then, he loses the war. He's won the battles, but here? Now? This close and this tested? He fails, spectacularly.
"Steve."
Steve's footfalls stop.
And it's quiet, too quiet.
"Yeah? I'm Steve," Steve finally says. "How'd you…?"
Eddie flips the lock. The sound echoing in this enclosed space, where the tension is high. Steve is Steve Harrington.
And Eddie is Eddie Munson. Once, now, and always.
But he can't make his feet move.
Steve can, however. He walks back over to the stall and pulls the door open. Brave. Always so fucking brave.
Eddie meets his eyes, and one of them makes a noise. Eddie thinks it was him, but maybe it was Steve. A wounded sound.
"What the fuck?" Steve says, but he doesn't wait for an answer. Doesn't hesitate. Not for a single second. Because Steve's a good dude. Arms wrap around him, hugging him tight, something Eddie hasn't felt in a long fucking time. Nearly five years.
It's like he's been brought home.
"What the fuck?" Steve says again, but he doesn't let go, and Eddie laughs wetly.
"Surprise," Eddie says, hugging him back just as tight.
The bathroom door bangs open, "What the fuck, Steve? Did you fall in—are you hugging a stranger? In a bathroom?"
Henderson.
Eddie laughs.
"No fucking way," Henderson says as he squeezes around Steve, squishing through the open stall door, shoving them over as he forces his way into the hug.
Eddie wraps a hand around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Laughing. Crying. Both at the same time.
"Is it really you?" Henderson asks, face pressed firmly into Eddie's chest.
It's really him.
He's Eddie Munson.
And once upon a time, he had friends.
Correction: Has friends.
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: Micro | Word Count: 555 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Minor Injury, Feet | POV: Eddie | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Steve Should Know Better Than To Enter His Lair
"Godamnit, Jesus Christ, what the fuck?!"
Eddie jolts up straight, only to find that there's a paper stuck to face. He grasps at it, batting it away, trying to assess the situation.
"What? What's wrong?" Eddie asks. Alarmed.
Steve's hopping around the spare bedroom, the one where Eddie does his hobby shit.
"I stepped on a Lego!" Steve hollers, voice incredibly bitchy.
Eddie doesn't have any Lego in here, so that seems rather unlikely. But he's not about to tell Steve that. No use poking the bear with a stick.
"Sit down, let me see," Eddie says, heart hammering in his chest. Steve scared the fucking shit out of him. He doesn't usually bulldoze his way into a room, making a ruckus. That's Eddie's schtick. Not Steve's.
Foot in hand, Eddie checks him over. Good news? He isn't bleeding. Eddie sees no glass, no cut. No major disaster. Bad new? There is a red mark on the sole of Steve's foot that Eddie is sure hurts like hell.
"What'd you step on?" Eddie asks, and if looks could kill, Eddie would most certainly be dead. "I'll find it. Don't worry."
And Eddie starts feeling around the laminate flooring, still half-asleep. He didn't know he was going on a scavenger hunt tonight.
Eventually, Eddie finds the offender. A tiny Micro Machines car.
Oh, that's definitely Eddie's bad. But to be fair, this is his room. Eddie doesn't go into Steve's home gym, hurt himself, and then blame Steve. And come on, he only dropped that weight on his foot once. He learned. Steve will learn, too.
Eddie had been experimenting with a modern day campaign, just for something new and different, and had found the tiny cars to be perfect. Clearly one of them got away from him. Whoops.
They do have wheels. He can't be blamed totally.
Eddie kneels in front of him.
"Sorry," Eddie says, picking Steve's foot back up. He's not a foot guy, but this is Steve's foot and he is definitely a Steve guy. He places a kiss on the bottom of Steve's arch in apology. "Is that better?"
"I can't tell," Steve complains. "Better do it again, just for good measure."
He's taking advantage. Goading him. Eddie wouldn't have it any other way.
Eddie kisses the spot again, and relishes the smile that Steve gives him, his annoyance melting away. Eddie's good at making that happen. If he wasn't, they never would have made it this far.
"Thank you. Now, I have something else you could kiss," Steve says, and Eddie is totally game for that. That's much more enticing to him than feet will ever be.
"Oh yeah? Just for me?" Eddie asks, running his hands up Steve's thighs.
"Just for you."
"Is that why you were coming to collect me? You needed a little something, something tonight?"
Steve laughs, and Eddie offers him his hands, helping him to his feet.
"Sure, we'll say that," Steve teases, and reaches over to turn off the music that's playing probably just a little too loud.
Oh.
Still. Eddie won't look a gift horse in the mouth.
"To bed!" Eddie says with authority and excitement, as Steve hobbles along in front of him, Eddie hitting the light switch as they exit.
Eddie will really have to make it up to him tonight.
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! ❤️
Prompt #22 - "Clap On, Clap Off, The Clapper!" | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Sexual Content, Talk of STIs | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Established Relationship, 1990s, Sex Ed Teacher Steve, Idiots on Parade, Silliness
It's a hard call to make.
Steve picks up the phone several times, making a big production before hanging it back up again. Not quite ready to commit to the action. He clearly knows what's best, and knows it's his obligation to follow through with this, even if he's embarrassed.
And he is embarrassed. He dramatically touches his face, patting his own cheek, as if he's feeling heat there. Talking to himself:
"It's okay. It happens to lots of people, and you were smart, got tested, and sought treatment. You didn't ignore the signs. That was responsible of you. Now, it's my obligation to tell all my recent partners that they should get tested, too."
He dials again, and this time it connects.
"Hello. It's Tommy. From the bar. I know this is awkward, but I need to tell you that I have tested positive for a sexually transmitted disease and you should be tested, too."
There's silence, as Steve stands there, acting like he's listening.
"Of course. You're welcome. It was the responsible thing to do."
Then, he hangs up the phone with a smile.
"Cut!" Jonathan shouts, and Eddie is finally able to let out the laugh he's been containing for the past twenty minutes. This script is terrible. Steve's acting is terrible.
It's just terrible all the way around.
"Fuck off," Steve says, and Eddie just grins. "Do we have anything to work with?" Steve asks Jonathan, redirecting his attention.
"I mean, I'll see what I can do," Jonathan says, and Eddie supposes that's all they can ask of him. Steve ain't giving him shit.
Steve volunteering to make a series of sex education informational videos is objectively a terrible idea. Get him behind the camera and he's so wooden.
And Robin? She's even worse.
The two of them together? Oh boy.
But Eddie's keeping his mouth shut. He has no interest in being the face of VD, especially not at Hawkins High, thank you very much. Even if he feels like he could make this come across far more natural.
"This is stupid," Max says, and Steve deflates. Eddie wants to wring her neck.
"It's not stupid. It's a teaching tool and he's doing a great job," Eddie says through gritted teeth.
He gives Steve two thumbs up.
"Nobody believes Steve's got the clap acting like that," she argues, and Eddie doesn't think she's wrong, per se, but she's definitely not being helpful either. "He sounds like a professor! Nobody is gonna thank him for calling. They're gonna yell! I'd yell!"
"We can't scare kids into not calling!" Steve snaps. "We have to make it look painless."
"It's a lie!" Max yells even louder.
"Max," Lucas says.
"These videos will be helpful to kids. We can't have them all out there spreading around the clap," Eddie says. He may think the videos are terrible, too, and probably won't do a fucking thing besides be laughed at, but still. Maybe a kernel of truth will lodge in their pea-brains to be pulled upon, if needed.
Also, it's his job to take Steve's side and hype him up. No matter how foolish he's looking.
"I'm pretty sure I could do better," Gareth says.
"Yeah, me too," Goodie adds.
Eddie looks at Jeff.
"Oh, no, I think he's doing great," Jeff says, lying through his goddamn teeth. Smart man, though.
"If you think you can do better, well, have at it!" Steve bitches, and well, Eddie can't wait to see what happens next.
The videos aren't bad.
They aren't good either, but as far as PSAs go, Eddie's definitely seen worse make it to air on national television. Jonathan did the best with what he had to work with, and for being used at the school? They're fine.
And Eddie didn't have to tell anybody he's pissing fire or anything. So, he's taking it as a win.
Jonathan sent the finished versions today, and they are perfectly serviceable for what they are intended to be.
Steve, Robin, Gareth and Goodie all have their own videos on different topics that Steve's curriculum covers, and next fall, Steve will start using them in his classroom.
In bed, Eddie's lounging, lying in wait.
When Steve walks through the door, he very clearly narrows in on the fact Eddie's up to no good.
"What?" Steve asks, voice slightly sharp as he pulls his shirt over his head.
"You got anything you need to tell me?" Eddie asks, shit-eating grin firmly plastered on his face, even after Steve throws his shirt at him, hitting him square in the head.
"Shut it, or it'll be so long you won't even remember what it looks like."
Eddie peels the shirt off, tossing it away, then makes the motion for locking his lips.
"That's what I thought," Steve says, shucking off his jeans, and crawling into bed.
Steve reaches over towards the nightstand, opening the drawer. Pulling out a condom, and holding it up.
Eddie sticks out his bottom lip.
"Safety first," he says, and Eddie takes it. It's probably expired.
It takes less than a minute.
"Okay, I'm done with this. It's not worth the bit. Off," Steve says, and Eddie laughs as he pulls out, tugging off the condom. Sliding back into Steve with ease.
Steve sighs.
"That's the good stuff. Worth the risk."
Eddie makes an affronted noise. That's rude. He's not a risk.
"Mr. Harrington is a hypocrite," Eddie says, getting back into their familiar rhythm.
Steve scoffs.
Then, raises an eyebrow.
"Is there a reason I should be worried? I thought we were monogamous?" Steve asks, fake hurt filling his voice. Well, he's a better actor in bed than in front of the camera. Still. Not very convincing.
Eddie has very easily kept his dick in his pants for Mr. Harrington, thank you very much.
But if he doesn't think so…
"I mean, if you don't trust me, I can pull out…"
Steve's fingers dig into his back, his tune swiftly changing.
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 kept thinking about the how stiff and wooden Steve and Robin both acted in that Starcourt Mall commercial, and well, here we are. 🤣
The PSAs in the 80s/90s were prevalent. Steve is positively hinged here in comparison to some of them. Calling himself Tommy was a little bitchy, though. Holding that grudge.🤣
'MICRO' wc: 555 | rated: E | cw: N/A | Tags: Small Penis Appreciation, Fighting as Foreplay, Bullying, Blowjobs, Oral Sex, don't bully me you'll cum
Steve likes it when Eddie pushes him around, and this time he makes a discovery he likes even more.
All Steve thinks to do when Eddie shoves him to the ground is to knee-walk back to him. He raises his eyebrows up at him, grabs his hips, and pretends it didn’t hurt.
“What’re you doing?” Eddie asks, lightly pushing at Steve’s forehead.
“Don’t be stupid,” Steve says, ducking away from it.
“Uh—”
Smugness settles in Steve’s chest as he wiggles Eddie’s hips back and forth.
“If you want to push me around, you’ll have to deal with the consequences,” he says, then starts to unbuckle Eddie’s belt.
“Uh—” Eddie says again, putting his palm back on Steve’s forehead. He just rests it there. “Yeah. I know. Like... like anger. Or retaliation.”
“This is retaliation,” Steve says, pulling his belt out. Eddie just stares, so he pops the button of his jeans, pulls down the zipper, and opens them up.
“Steve—” Eddie croaks. “What—I don’t get it. We were just fighting.”
“Yeah, you were being a real bully,” Steve smirks, then presses his face between his legs, against his boxers. Eddie gasps. “You know that gets me hot.”
“Does it?”
Steve nods, finding his dick with his nose, realizing with a mix of shock and interest that it’s pretty small—he doesn’t mean to moan. He feels Eddie’s hips jerk back and he grabs them again, holding him in place as he opens his mouth around him, using his spit to get his boxers all wet.
“Wait, wait, I—”
Steve pulls back, disappointed, and meets Eddie’s eyes.
“You don’t want me to blow you?” he asks, point blank, watching Eddie’s mouth open and close.
“That’s... well,” Eddie says, swallowing. “I guess you already—I guess...”
“C’mon man, go back to bullying me,” Steve scoffs.
Eddie’s teeth click shut and he nods. Steve gives him a moment to get over himself, then tugs Eddie’s boxers down. Eddie’s fingers grip Steve’s hair while he gets a good look at him. He was right. Eddie’s dick is really small—it suits him, but not in the way that people laugh about. He’s not sure how to make micro sound like a compliment, so he just leans forward and gets it in his mouth.
“Fuck,” Eddie groans, pulling hard on Steve’s hair.
Steve rubs his tongue against the underside of his dick—feeling it jerk inside his mouth makes him squeeze himself through his pants. Later on he’ll get Eddie to be mean to him about it, make him take it, to grind against his face and cum all over him. For now he traces his tongue along the edge of his foreskin, feeling Eddie’s whole body jerk.
“Watch out,” Eddie gasps.
Steve doesn’t know what that means—is he going to come? Did that hurt?—so he continues doing it, trying to goad him into being rougher. He thinks he could do this all day—kneel here with his lips pressed to his pubes for hours. Eddie’s balls tighten against his chin and finally he shoves his hips forward, throbbing hard before exploding in Steve’s mouth.
When he’s done and he slumps back against the wall, and Steve doesn’t want to leave, so he follows, still sucking; swallowing his cum, pulling gasps of pain out of him, until Eddie forces him to stop.
“Okay—Okay okay,” Eddie says, pushing him back hard enough to make him land on his ass. “Okay. Fuck.”
Prompt #21 - Ecto Cooler | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Brief Sexual Content, A Splash of Soft Dom/Sub | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Uptight Steve, Opposites Attract
Steve pushes the cart like they are on a mission from Satan himself.
Like the floor is lava.
Like time is money.
Which would all be fine, except Eddie likes to look around. See what's new. See what products are cool, or different. Eddie likes to be leisurely about it. They aren't in a hurry. He can window shop. Browse. Those are things he didn't really get to do as a kid. He's sure Steve did, but now he's trying to deny Eddie the same experience now that money isn't nearly as tight.
Because Steve seems to think they need to make grocery shopping a race.
Mr. List.
Mr. Stick To The Plan.
It's date night. Dinner, a movie and grocery shopping. The Friday special. Eddie looks forward to it all week.
They already had a battle over which new movie they were going to see tonight. Eddie did not want to see Look Who's Talking Too starring John Revolting. That's what Eddie likes to call him, when he's trying to piss Steve off.
It works. So he keeps doing it.
Eddie wanted to see Edward Scissorhands.
As a compromise, they saw Look Who's Talking Too.
Eddie's never beating the dick-whipped allegations, but he doesn't care. He enjoys their bantering far more than he'll ever care about actually getting his way.
Steve wheels the cart down the juice aisle, not slowing a bit. Eddie has to reach down and scoop up three cans of Hi-C and jog to catch up, listening to them slosh in the tin cans, before placing them in the cart with thuds.
"Do we need all that?" Steve asks, not even looking to see what he's objecting to.
"Obviously," Eddie answers, and they keep moving.
Eddie grins to himself. He wouldn't change anything, honest. He's with Steve Harrington and Steve loves him a whole fucking lot. That's never been in question.
Their relationship shouldn't work, and yet. Somehow it does. Quite well.
"No, no, no, what are you doing? Stop that!" Steve yells, hands full of grocery bags. Eddie freezes. Knife in hand.
"What?" Eddie asks.
"You're gonna cut your fingers off," Steve bitches, dropping the bags on their kitchen table before reaching forward to snatch the pocket knife from his hand. Eddie pulls it back, out of his reach.
"No, I'm not, I'm just opening this can," Eddie argues.
"With a knife? A dull knife?"
Eddie scoffs, "My pocket knife is not dull."
That's offensive.
Wayne would never stand for that. Eddie learned how to sharpen a knife young. And Wayne also taught him how to use one to open a can. Which he was trying to do, until Steve came along, screeching like a banshee.
Steve's hands find his hips. He's ridiculous. A clucking mother hen.
"I just want some Ecto Cooler while we put away the groceries, so I'm gonna need you to chill the fuck out."
"You need a church key," Steve says, not chilling the fuck out for a single second.
Eddie rolls his eyes, watching as Steve bangs through all their kitchen drawers. Finally he pulls out a tool with a green handle. "Ha!"
Then, he nudges Eddie out of the way, and hooks the edge of it over the lip of the large can, popping the sharp point into it, leaving a little triangle punch.
Well, that's neat. They definitely didn't have one of those at home.
Steve rotates the can, and pops another hole on the other side so the juice can flow out with ease.
"There," Steve says, clearly proud of himself. "We all get to keep our fingers and don't have to pay for stitches. Again."
It was one time, and Steve will never let him live it down. Honestly. It was no big deal.
"Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says, because it's easier to just get on board, than fight about. He pours his glass of the electric green liquid, and then holds up the can in an offer to share.
Steve shakes his head, and Eddie puts it into the fridge, and gets to work helping Steve put away the groceries.
There are other benefits of date night.
Steve's fresh out of the shower and naked on the bed, ass up. Not that they need date night for this, they most definitely don't, but it's still nice to know that all the banter is leading up to this.
Steve's the boss. Eddie will never claim otherwise. Except here. Here? Steve likes Eddie to take charge. He likes Eddie to pull all his worries out, and toss them away. He wants Eddie to make him relax.
To make him chill the fuck out. And this is the only way Eddie knows how.
"Look at you, sweetheart," Eddie says, and Steve flexes his foot. The only sign that he's heard him.
Eddie sheds his clothes, climbing in bed, hands all over Steve.
"Is this what you were in such a hurry for?" Eddie asks, and Steve whines. Eddie's gonna take that as a yes. "Well, I'll take real good care of you. You'll see."
Steve sucks in a big breath, chest expanding, back rising, before releasing it again.
"That's good," Eddie says, covering Steve's back with his own body. Putting all his weight on Steve, grounding him, while shooing the stress of the day away.
Eddie works a hand between them, lifting his hips, and guiding the tip of his cock to Steve's opening.
He's prepped and ready to go. He always is. Eddie knows the drill. And sure it'd be easier to do this, then lay on him, but this is part of the deal.
Whatever their deal is.
He pops past Steve's rim, and he's in. Pressing deep, still keeping as much weight on Steve as possible. Not doing much moving. Just content with being inside him for now.
Steve sighs. A sound Eddie will always love to be the cause of.
"I needed that."
Eddie grins, pressing his cheek to Steve's, "I know you did."
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 was a major Ecto Cooler fan. I definitely spent time checking shelves for Shoutin’ Orange Tangergreen once the Ecto Cooler branding was phased out. It wasn't the same when it returned in 2016, or at least, my adult tastebuds just weren't as into it, which was a bummer. 😭
It looks like two other movies opened the same night as Look Who's Talking Too. Edward Scissorhands and Mermaids. Two Winona Ryder movies! Fun Fact: Christina Ricci made her film debut in Mermaids!
rated e | 555 words | no cw | tags: secret steddie, established steddie, anal sex, eddie has a big dick
📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖
"I heard he has a small dick."
"I heard it's like a...what do they call it...micropenis?"
Eddie smirks to himself, trying to hide it behind his hand as he looks down at his textbook.
"Maybe that's why he doesn't even try to flirt with girls."
"I heard it's because he's gay."
First thing they've gotten right yet, Eddie thinks to himself.
"I don't think any guy would want him either if he had a micropenis."
Eddie snorts. He feels the girls look over at him, but he pretends he's busy reading. He doesn't even know which textbook this is, let alone what he's supposed to be reading.
"My cousin lives in New York and said that they have a bunch of gay guys who are super into that."
"I guess everyone has weird quirks. My boyfriend has no hair down there. It just doesn't grow."
"God, I wish."
A hand covers Eddie's shoulder and he jumps.
"You shouldn't listen in on private conversations, Ed," Steve whispers in his ear before he sits down across from him at the table. "It's rude."
"Well, when they're talking about your dick, it's fun to tune in and see what they have to say," Eddie explains, nudging his knee under the table. "Did you know there's a rumor that I have a micropenis?"
Steve blinks at him, then laughs. "You?"
Eddie nods. "Me."
"I'm still sore from two days ago," Steve's cheeks turn pink at the admission. "They have no idea."
--
"Fuck that's good. Jesus."
"Eddie's fine."
Steve covers his mouth with his hand, rolling his eyes as he rides him faster. "Don't talk. Please."
That's fine with Eddie. Sometimes he doesn't know what to say anyway. Steve's so goddamn perfect, especially when he's like this. Bitchy, needy, desperate. He can't believe Steve even likes him, let alone wants to fuck him.
Or get fucked, he should say. Sure, Steve likes fucking Eddie sometimes.
But the second he saw what Eddie was working with, he said it would be a crime to not have his dick inside him as often as possible. Which is often enough that Steve has a bit of a limp more often than not. It's his own doing.
"You're so fucking big," Steve moans as he leans down. "Feel so full."
Eddie grips his hips tighter, driving his hips up as Steve finds a rhythm for them to follow. He's got stamina that Eddie can't match even on his best days, but damn does he try. He has to get creative sometimes, find things that make Steve feel even better so that he pushes him closer to the edge faster. It's a bit like a competition for them, and Steve lets him win sometimes.
Steve whines and pulls his hand off of Eddie's mouth after a deeper thrust.
"You want me to touch you?" Eddie offers, even though he knows Steve doesn't. He likes when he comes from just this, just Eddie's dick pushing relentlessly against his prostate.
As he expected, Steve shakes his head. He's predictable.
Eddie loves that about him.
Eddie loves a lot of things about him.
"I'm close. You can come now," Steve allows.
--
"You coming over tonight?" Eddie asks as he closes the textbook.
"Is your dick still huge?" Steve winks. "Yeah, I am."
When Somebody Knows You Well (Well, There's No Comfort Like That)
Day 2 - Prompt: Philly | Word Count: 9435 | Rating: E | CW: M/M/F Threesome | POV: Nancy | Pairing: Nancy/Steve/Jonathan | Tags: Future Fic, Friendship, Reconnecting, Old Friends, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexual Jonathan Byers, Sex With Friends
Read the full fic on ao3.
Excerpt below:
Next month in Philly doesn't happen.
And neither does it in the three months after that.
After a year, then five more, Nancy chalked Philly up to being a pipe dream. A good idea steeped in the optimism of youth, a promise made with good intentions, but that will never come to fruition. They can want to meet up, old friends reconnecting, more than anything maybe, but that doesn't make it happen. You just can't go back in time. It's impossible.
Nothing will ever be the same as the relationships they forged with one another, battle tested and worn-in, but they can't ever be like they were, either.
Life, it just moves on. Fast.
Maybe they all should have listened to Ferris Bueller, and made the time to stop and look around at each other. But they didn't, and now here they are. She's nearing thirty. And Nancy can't remember the last time they were all in one place.
She's seen Robin. They've gotten together a handful of times over the years. She's seen Jonathan more frequently, paths crossing and then parting again. But she can't remember the last time she saw Steve.
Part of that is her fault. She doesn't like going home, back to Hawkins.
So, when Steve calls again out of the blue, doing a bit of prodding, they agree to try and settle on a date. One more time. When they finally pencil one in, it's not lost on her that this is further than they've ever gotten before when trying to make a plan to meet up.
Robin can't make it.
That's the latest update, and having it fall apart before it begins is really par for the course. They talk about postponing again, about canceling again, about putting it off longer. Nancy assumes Steve won't want to make the drive if Robin isn't going to be there. She knows Robin's his biggest draw, and he's got the longest distance to travel.
Still, somehow, happy in Hawkins. Different strokes for different folks.
Even if she can't wrap her head around that choice. She doesn't miss it. She misses the people, but the town? Not at all. She did her time. She's never going back without a good goddamn reason.
"Maybe we could try again next month," Nancy says, and Steve huffs out a breath.
"Again?"
The unexpected sound of disappointment in Steve's voice gives Nancy pause. That sound of hurt she knows intimately because she has caused it before. And she can't do it again.
She can't.
Maybe he needs this. Maybe he needs old friends, and she refuses to be the one to take that away from him if she can help it.
"Or we can still meet up. The three of us," she says, and somehow, she can hear his smile. "Robin can catch us at the next one. Three outta four ain't bad."
"A passing grade," Steve says, and she laughs. "A solid C."
"Look at you, knowing about passing grades now, Mr. Teacher."
She's teasing, and he knows it. Steve was never stupid, even if he liked to play dumb.
"I'll tell Jonathan," she says, and he hums in agreement. Like he doesn't quite believe her, and she thinks that's more than fair.
They are making an effort this time. They talk in round robin fashion. Playing a game of telephone, of phone tag. Cross-country calls, trying to get something in place. Catching up, bits and pieces at a time. Robin swears they can still stay with her uncle, but that seems weird, and other plans are lobbied about until Philly somehow morphs into the Jersey Shore. They'll save Philly for a time that Robin can join them. And after running the numbers, they decide they can swing a beach house rental on the Shore, and a weekend of relaxation.
That sounds more alluring than a musty basement. They aren't twenty anymore.
Steve's not in the classroom right now, school's out for summer, and as soon as the little league season wraps up, he's free. She's got plenty of vacation time saved up, and can write from anywhere. Jonathan sets his own schedule, and since they've planned ahead enough — shockingly — his calendar is clear.
He likes to keep busy.
Jonathan's first feature length film doesn't start filming until fall. Still an indie on a shoestring budget, but he's branched out from shorts and that's a big deal.
They're all free at the same time, and Nancy thinks, somehow, that this is really gonna happen.
Continue reading the full fic right here on ao3.
Title is from London Rain (Nothing Heals Me Like You Do) by Heather Nova. The amount of the Dawson's Creek soundtrack songs I listened to while writing this. I can't even tell you. Totally the right time frame.
Prompt #20 - McNuggets | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Established Relationship, A Slice of Life, Set in the Take the Money and Run Universe, The Sex Pumpkin (aka Happy Meal Boo Buckets)
1990
The house is dark when Eddie arrives. Suspiciously dark. Steve never sits around in the pitch black.
Eddie reaches for the hallway light switch, flipping it on. Only, nothing happens. Well, fuck. The power's out. Better not be an electrical problem. They just signed on the dotted line for this house. And all the little issues are definitely making themselves known, one by one.
So, whatever's wrong here, it's their problem now. Great.
With the power out, it's insanely quiet in here. He hears something scrape across the floor, maybe in the kitchen.
And his hackles are immediately raised. Because, what if this isn't a normal problem. What if it's something else? Something from Hawkins.
Eddie reaches for the closest weapon-like item, an umbrella, and grasps it. Then, decides it might be a good idea to just check first before he surprises Steve with anything raised in a threatening way. In the dark. Eddie has no doubts Steve could still wipe the floor with him.
"Steve?" Eddie calls out.
"Kitchen!" Steve answers, and Eddie loosens his grip, letting go of the handle. Letting it thunk back down into the holder. Laughing at himself. Scared of the dark, like a big old chicken shit. He shakes his head. He's never claimed to be brave. That's Steve's thing.
"What's up with the lights?" Eddie calls out, toeing off his boots.
Steve doesn't answer, and when Eddie walks through the kitchen door, Steve's sitting at the table, and dead center on top of it is a glowing pumpkin.
Since when was the sex pumpkin glow-in-the-dark?
He laughs, "What the hell, sweetheart?"
Not that Eddie's opposed to a sex proposition.
Steve leans back in his chair, and flips the light switch. Suddenly the room is filled with light, and Steve looks mighty pleased with himself.
Eddie realizes the sex pumpkin isn't a pumpkin at all. It's a white ghost. That glows.
"They had new ones this year. The sign lured me in. McNuggets might be cold," Steve says, and Eddie doesn't care. Not in the slightest. He knew Steve had to go into town today, but he just didn't expect this. Eddie pulls out a chair, and scoots it closer to Steve. Resting his hand on Steve's knee.
"It's perfect," he says, and pops off the lid of the ghost bucket.
There's actual food inside, enough to eat, not just a happy meal snack, and Eddie spreads it out in front of them.
It is cold. But Eddie doesn't care. He's not too good for a little cold fast food. So, he eats his cold McNuggets, dipping them in sweet and sour sauce, because Steve would never forget that, and tells Steve all about his day.
"I saw a pocket gopher today," Eddie says, looking at Steve. Steve raises an eyebrow.
"Is it called a pocket gopher because it's in your pocket right now?" Steve asks, and Eddie laughs, shaking his head.
"I wish," Eddie answers. He'd love to bring home half the wildlife he encounters on a daily basis. Who wouldn't want an elk or a black bear?
He knows he's a lucky fucker. He's got a job he loves, and he's got Steve. Four years. They're four years in, and Eddie feels like he still doesn't quite believe it. Steve Harrington loves him.
They bought a house together surrounded by the trees that he loves, and it's finally in just their own names. Steve's dad no longer on the mortgage as a co-signer. He never caused them any trouble, but it was a relief when the day came that they could refinance it all on their own.
Just the two of them, still making a whole life together.
"This is great," Eddie says, and Steve scoffs, chewing a mouthful of cold, tough fries.
But it is. Eddie's happy. In a way he never imagined possible. His life has turned out good, and that seemed like something that would never, ever be possible.
Then, Steve happened.
"What's up with the hallway light?" Eddie asks, already imagining having to figure out how to rewire a light. He doesn't mind. Wayne taught him to use the Time Life home repair book series to figure out shit that they couldn't afford to hire professionals to fix.
He can do it.
"I loosened the bulb," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. A little dramatic just for a bit. He's clearly been around Eddie for far too long.
There's a flashlight on the table. Eddie nods towards it.
"I had to keep recharging the ghost. You're late," Steve says, but there's no heat there. Eddie works long hours more often than not. He's trying to claw his way up from the bottom rung.
He wants to do this for a long, long time.
There's whispers of an opportunity for some travel work, a temporary position that would help bolster his standing in the service. He hasn't said anything to Steve yet, because it's not happening until next year, and there's no reason to worry about something that might not even happen.
They might choose somebody else, entirely.
"I bought a couple steaks and threw them in the freezer for our anniversary," Steve says, and Eddie nods.
He's never been really sure when that is. He thinks Steve considers it from their first kiss, but Eddie feels like the day they left on the road trip might be the real date. That was the start of this great, big love they hadn't anticipated.
"I'd take you to a nice restaurant," Eddie offers, and Steve scoffs. They are pinching pennies. The house needs lots of work. More than they realized, Eddie fears.
"Too far into town," Steve says, "Let's eat here, then we can get to bed quicker."
Eddie smiles. That's a perfect plan. Alone, at home with Steve, there's nothing better than that.
"Sold," Eddie answers, and runs his fingers over the edge of the white bucket. "So, what filthy, naughty things are we gonna keep in here, Harrington?"
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: It just felt like the perfect time to revisit these two, and their sex pumpkin. Now, with a sex ghost. 👻
1990 is the year that they introduced the glow in the dark ghost option.
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.
Do you have a playlist at all for Tuesday's Gone With the Wind (inspo songs, what you would write to, anything like that)? I LOVE that fic and think of it often - if you do I'd love to give it a listen!
Hi! I do! It's right here:
The embedded player only shows the first 100 songs, but if you click into it or save it, you should be able to see the whole playlist!
It includes every song mentioned and/or they played in Tuesday's.
I definitely write to music, and my end of the year music stats are proof of it, lol. But it's always a fun snapshot looking back to remind myself what I've written that year.
And I'm so thrilled you loved Tuesday's and think of it often. That means more to me than you know!
Prompt #19 - Rattail | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Degradation, Hair Pulling/Cutting | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Post S4, 1990s, Fuck Buddies, Lack of Communication, Mutual Pining
This is the third fic set in my haircut series. They can be read separately, but they are building on each other:
Perm | 2. Mullet | 3. Rattail
"Ow," Eddie hisses under his breath.
"What was that?" Steve asks, tugging a little harder.
"I said ow," Eddie complains, then mumbles, "motherfucker."
Steve slides his fingers up the small braid, closer to the scalp, tugging with a little more pressure, pulling Eddie's head backwards as he hammers into him. Eddie wishes he had half the confidence Steve has. Eddie can pretend. Steve just exists.
"It looks fucking stupid," Steve says. "You look like an asshole."
"I am an asshole," Eddie retorts.
"You look like trailer trash."
Eddie's fingers clutch the sheets. Then, he reaches back and taps Steve on the thigh. It's subtle, but Steve will get the message and redirect, just a little.
"Well, if the shoe fits," Eddie says.
Eddie has never found anyone that could make him buzz with desire like Steve does. Eddie asked for this. To feel something. To find a way to feel the roil of desire building anywhere in the way his cock just can't anymore. He feels like he needs his brain stroked. To feel the build-up there instead. He's asked to be put down, to be put in his place, to get off in other ways, and Steve just nodded along like Eddie was asking what the weather was like.
Steve didn't ask questions. He rarely does. He's always just rolled with whatever Eddie throws at him. There's something intoxicating about having Steve Harrington, known bitch, let loose on you while he fucks you good.
To have someone that doesn't give a fuck if Eddie takes an hour to come. Someone that knows it has nothing to do with them, honest.
Someone that doesn't mind his broken parts, inside and out.
It's something Eddie doesn't want to inspect too closely, or he's sure he'd make connections he wouldn't like.
Overall, Steve does great. He's a natural. Coachable. There's just some things that don't scratch the right itch for Eddie. Poking at his tax bracket? That's one of them.
So, yeah, Steve might miss the mark from time to time, but it never takes him long to redirect and get it right.
"You'll never amount to anything. Not looking like this."
That's much better.
Eddie hums in agreement, loosening his jaw to take some of the pressure off that Steve's applying by holding his hair.
"I can't stand looking at it," Steve says, leaning over and grabbing his scissors off the nightstand.
"Steve," Eddie whines.
Then, he hears the metallic snip, before his head falls forward landing on the pillow.
Steve smacks his shoulder with the cut off thin braid, then tosses next to Eddie's face. It tickles his nose.
Then, both of Steve's hands are on Eddie's sides, gripping, pushing him into the mattress.
Fucking him harder. Eddie's just along for the ride.
"This thing was ugly," Steve says, toying with the cut off rattail with one hand. His other, warm and heavy, is hand resting on Eddie's thigh. Grounding.
He's always so grounding that Eddie never wants to be without him.
And that's a dangerous thought.
"You gave it to me," Eddie mumbles around the cigarette in his mouth, and Steve chuckles.
"You let me," Steve says.
"Well, clearly I'll let you do lots of things to me."
Steve scoffs, "Not everything."
It's Eddie's turn to be indignant.
"Like what? Call me trailer trash?"
Steve's grip tightens, "No. You know I don't think that. You told me to talk shit. I was talking shit. I'm not good at this. I'm so sorry that I can't read your mind."
Eddie shakes his head, "Not that. I don't care about that. Just. Nevermind."
"No, not nevermind," Steve says, getting more agitated. Eddie passes him his cigarette, and Steve takes it.
They bicker like this. It's nothing new. They've been in each other's pockets for almost a decade now.
"It's nothing," Eddie says, trying to placate him. Because that's far easier than the truth.
"Eddie," Steve says on an exhale of smoke. Fuck. Even that is somehow smooth. Eddie does not get how Steve is just like this.
Eddie's standard feels like he's a wet cat that's still just standing around in the rain. Broken, and a little unlovable. Steve? Steve's something else entirely.
Eddie shuts this down. It's dangerous. He can't say what he wants. He can't.
If Steve wanted him like that he'd already have him. Steve always goes after what he wants.
"Are you gonna fix my hair?" Eddie asks, changing the direction of the conversation. Steve hums, letting him.
"Yep, I've got just the thing," Steve says, and Eddie should be scared, but he isn't.
The buzz of the clippers should scare him. But it doesn't. Whatever. It's hair. It'll grow back. Eddie's been through too much to worry about what his hair looks like. He likes giving Steve free rein over it.
Steve runs his fingers along Eddie's buzzed scalp, checking for strays, Eddie's sure.
Then, Steve hands him a hand mirror.
A mohawk. Steve gave him a mohawk.
Which, well. It's a definite improvement over the last two haircuts.
"I'll have to trim the sides every week," Steve says, and well, that sounds like a date to Eddie. He's never gonna turn down scheduled time to spend near Steve.
"Maybe you should become a barber," Eddie says, and Steve snorts. "That's gotta be better than retail."
"Eh. I like cutting your hair, I don't give a shit about cutting anybody else's."
Eddie lets those words sink in.
"You do Gareth's," Eddie says.
"An extension of you," Steve answers, fingers still combing through the hair on the top of Eddie's head, trying to get it higher, taller.
"Wonder how tall you could grow it?" Steve ponders, and Eddie will let it grow to a foot tall if Steve keeps doing that.
Eddie leans back, his head resting against Steve's chest. Steve's hands run up and down Eddie's bare arms, and it's too much. Too soft. But Eddie's gonna allow it.
For just a minute more. Maybe two.
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've connected all four of the haircut prompts into one universe, and they'll be posted on Sundays this month.
