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Eddie: What's the craziest thing you've ever done to be with your crush?
Steve: Tell them that I don't know how to roll a joint so they'll do it for me and I can spend a few extra minutes with them
Eddie: Craziest thing I've ever done is throw myself in lover's lake to save- wait, why are you having me roll joints for you when you could ask your crush?
“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.”
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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 🫣😆)
I could not be more grateful to you for all the amazing art you did for this story, and all the ideas you contributed to it!!! This collab has been magical from start to finish and I'm all up in my feels about letting it go! 😭❤️✨️
pros of having a favorite character youve liked for over a decade: character brings you joy and excitement
cons of having a favorite character youve liked for over a decade: they have become a permanent part of your internal monologue and you cant get them to go away
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Prompt Day 17: Answering Machine | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: G | CW: None | POV: omniscent | Pairing(s): implied steddie | Tags: told entirely through answering machine messages, corroded coffin love to gossip, steve and eddie meet at the fateful halloween party au
November 1st, 1984 – 09:48
“Um. Shit. Wasn’t expecting the machine. Hey Harrington. It’s Ed–Munson. Um. Hopefully your parents don’t listen to this, but I think you said they were away right? Um, anyway, I just wanted to, I dunno, make sure you’re okay? Break-ups suck. If you ever need someone to hang out with again–nevermind, of course you don’t need any loser friends. Anyway, yeah, hope you’re okay, don’t, uh, don’t feel like you have to call me back or anything. See ya.”
November 1st, 1984 – 17:09
“Eddieeeeee, it’s Jeff, pick up dude. Pick up. Pick up–okay fine. Where’d you disappear to last night? We still on for band practice tomorrow night? Call me back.”
November 6th, 1984 – 21:21
“Hey Eddie. It’s, uh, Steve. Harrington. Sorry it’s taken me so long to return your call, I’ve… I’ve had a few things going on. Thanks though, thanks for hanging out with me on Halloween and, like, taking care of me or whatever. I just… thanks again man. See you at school.”
November 7th, 1984 – 15:55
“Harrington, holy shit dude, I really hope I’m not getting your machine because you’ve collapsed in a heap at home with, like, your brain melting out your ears or something? You looked like shit at school today, and I mean that with, like, concern, not as an insult. Um. Yeah. Just–if you need any, like, pain relief or something, I’ve got you covered, just say the word. It’s, uh, Eddie–Munson, Eddie Munson. Okay. Bye.”
November 7th, 1984 – 15:57
“Hey dude, it’s Gareth, why is your line still engaged? I’ve tried you like three times. Did you see Harrington’s face today? Holyyyyyy sheeeeet, he looked like he’s been through a meat grinder. Call me back.”
November 7th, 1984 – 15:59
“Edward. Yo. It’s Freak. You see the Kings’ shiner today? Heard it was Billy Hargrove. Bro is an animal.”
November 7th, 1984 – 16:15
“Hey, it’s Jeff. You picking me up at six? I got you Red Vines.”
November 8th, 1984 – 11:36
“Hi Eddie, it’s Steve. I’m hoping getting your machine means you’re back at school. You shouldn’t miss any more class. But, uh, thanks for driving me home. I’m going to take tomorrow off too. Let me know when you’re free so I can buy you a six-pack as a thanks.”
June 17th, 1985 – 19:43
“Edward, it’s Freak. I’ve got two words for you; Scoops Ahoy.”
June 18th, 1985 – 10:06
“Hey, it’s Jeff. I was at Starcourt today getting a lamp and checking out the yoga chicks, as one does – did you know Steve Harrington is working at Scoops Ahoy? Oh Eddie boy, oh how the mighty have fallen. Hey, weren’t you two kinda hanging out there for a bit last year?”
June 22nd, 1985 – 18:53
“Eddieeee, where are you man? It’s Gareth, I’ve got the best news! I’ve got us a gig at The Hideout! It’s for July 3rd. The manager I spoke to says if it goes well it could turn into a regular spot. We need to strategise – call me back!”
June 30th, 1985 – 20:14
“Hey Eddie, it’s Steve. I checked my roster at work, and I can definitely make it to your first show! Gonna try and convince Buckley to come, because she’s cool and nerdy like you guys, and you’re all cool with each other, so cred points for me with your friends. Should I bring anything? Should I wear a Corroded Coffin shirt? I will, you know, zero shame. Call me when you get home, I wanna hear how rehearsal went.”
July 2nd, 1985 – 17:03
“Yooooo, Edward. It’s Freak. I got that amp from my cousin, it’s much better than that one with the dodgy cable. Swing by after dinner and we can load it in the van? Buzz me back when you get this.”
July 2nd, 1985 – 22:53
“Hey Steve-o, it’s Eddie. I thought you’d be home by now, but I’m guessing you have been overrun by the army of evil children demanding the SS Butterscotch. It is, after all, an ocean of flavour. Anyway, we’re going on at nine tomorrow night. I’m… I’m really glad you’re coming. I’ll tell you a secret, Stevie, just between you, me, and your answering machine. I’m nervous. Promise you’ll tell me your grandma rocks harder than me or something to keep my head on straight, yeah? I hope work wasn’t too shitty, see you tomorrow night.”
July 3rd, 1985 – 23:27
“Hey Stevie, it’s Eddie. I didn’t see you at the show tonight, and the crowd was like twenty drunks, so I reckon I would have spotted you. You okay? Call me.”
July 4th, 1985 – 13:04
“Howdy Ed, it’s Jeff. I heard from Gareth – The Hideout manager liked our set! He’s open to giving us a regular spot. How good, yeah?! Also, we’re having a barbecue later – mom said to come over, and bring Wayne. Okay, bye.”
July 4th, 1985 – 21:18
“Hey Steve. Is everything okay? Call me back.”
July 5th, 1985 – 22:20
“Steve-o, you’re starting to worry me. Is this the shit you ‘can’t talk about’? Call me back, please.”
July 6th, 1985 – 23:45
“Harrington. It’s Eddie. I’m pretty sure I’ve filled your answering machine after this message. At this point, I’d really just love word you’re alive, but I can take a hint. I thought you wanted–that you–um. Anyway. See you round.”
March 25th, 1986 – 16:56
“Um, hi. This is Jeff Best. Steve, if you get this…have you seen Eddie? He always says you guys don’t talk anymore, but I don’t know who else to call. Jason Carver has lost his mind, and–and I’m worried. I– Jesus, I don’t know why I bothered calling you, actually. You didn’t show up for him before, why would you now?”
April 3rd, 1986 – 14:31
“Hi Mr Munson, it’s Steve. Get back here when you get this – he’s awake.”
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.
Steve has been thinking about getting a tattoo. Since they started dating a few years back, his boyfriend has practically covered his own body in ink. On the couch, when they're cuddled up, he loves tracing Eddie's tattoos, asking about each one, and hearing why they're special to him. He wants something like that, a place on his body to immortalize the most important thing in his life.
"I've been thinking, maybe I should get a tattoo," he says as nonchalantly as possible, as his fingers follow the sweep of each bat.
Below him, Eddie bolts upright, his head almost colliding with Steve's chin. A look of deep concern has overtaken his face as he asks tentatively, "where?"
"Where? What do you mean where? I'd just go to your guy."
"No, where on your body do you want a tattoo?"
"I was thinking..." Steve trailed off. In reality, he hasn't thought it through that far. He doesn't really even have a design in mind, let alone a placement, so he offered his own forearm to Eddie. "Here maybe."
"Oh no, no no no," Eddie insists with a shake of his head, "not there. You can't cover up your best freckles."
"Okay, fine. What about here?" Steve asks, pulling up his shirt to expose his torso, his hand vaguely gesturing to his chest awash in hair.
"Absolutely not! It's not worth the risk."
"The risk? You said tattoos are perfectly safe."
"Yeah, they are. But shaving your chest isn't. What if some of the hair doesn't grow back?" Eddie explains as he runs his fingers through the dark thicket. " That's not a risk I'm willing to let you take, Stevie."
A deep laugh erupts from Steve as he hikes up one leg of his sweatpants. "What about here then?" he inquires, gesturing to his upper thigh, though he knows the answer before Eddie even speaks.
"But my favorite mole is on that thigh, you wouldn't take one of my favorite moles from me, would you?" Eddie's eyes are puppy dog big, as he tilts his head to one side. "And before you even suggest it, my second and third favorite moles are on your other thigh."
They search the rest of his body together, finding a problem with each and every spot, until Eddie announces with great exasperation, "face it, sweetheart, you're already a work of art."
A groan escapes Steve's lips at the cheesy compliment yet he can't help but lean over to kiss his boyfriend, his hands wrapping their way around the creatures creeping up Eddie's neck, until Eddie's lips break from his long enough to say, "unless you want to get a lower back tattoo. I've always thought Michelangelo's David would look even hotter with a tramp stamp. Maybe 'Property of Eddie Munson'?"
"Oh, fuck off!" Steve grumbles as he pushes his boyfriend down onto the couch.
"Don't like that one? We can workshop it," Eddie manages to get out before Steve's lips silence them both.
Eddie, realizing that he didn't take his ferret out of his sweatshirt sleeve before leaving to school, turns to Steve like, "You wanna see my hairy noodle?"
Steve is just, "...sure."
Eddie wiggled his arm until his pet crawls out of his shirt and Steve is just like, "Oh. Thank god. I thought you were gonna get your cock out. Let me hold your hamster."
"He's a f-" Eddie loses his ferret and his mind because, "why did you say yes if you thought I was talking about my dick?"
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Freedom!!! My vacation is finally here! No work for the next three weeks!
Incidentally, today is also the day we're posting the last chapter of King's Gift. I've known for a few months already that these two would coincide. It's a weird feeling, letting this story go, but I'm excited to see what everyone will have to say about how we wrap it up!
Speaking of wrapping things up! I finished another chapter of Live Debt AU yesterday, and am hoping to get the sixth chapter of Coverage done before I board the plane and leave for my vacation on Tuesday.
Send me an emoji, and I'll write and share three sentences from that project
🥀 Coverage
⚔️ Life Debt AU
🧶 Yarn-ing for your love
🎉 Steddie Holiday Drabbles, August pop-up
Snippet from 🧶
It's the largest project he's made so far, and the most intricate one. Alternating squares of black and crimson, with little bats and skulls and flames worked into it in fairisle patterns. He's probably spent as much time ripping things apart as he's spent actually knitting by now, because he noticed he made a mistake three rows ago and needed to backtrack.
It's only about three-quarters done - and that's not counting all the time he'll need to spend weaving in ends and adding a border - but he's damn proud of it. If there's anything he can show off to the Adonis in the self-designed cabled sweater that is Steve Harrington without feeling like a total ass, it's this.
He snaps a photo of the afghan spread out on his bed. He has hardly hit send when the reply comes through.
Cute!
Eddie stares at the screen. Does absolutely not blush like a schoolgirl whose crush just complimented her outfit, thank you very much. He's just about to type a thank you when Steve's next message pops up.
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