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Prompt Day 16: Hypercolor | Word Count: 996 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Eddie | Pairing(s): Steddie | Tags: secret relationship, bi4bi steddie (not important to the plot but important to ME hehe), eddie's ill-defined general insecurities, inconvenient handprints (or are they??)
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“Where are you supposed to be right now?”
Eddie gasps the question out between hot, wet kisses. For a long moment dominated by a heady press of lips, he gets no answer, so he lifts his hands and buries them in thick, gorgeous hair, using his leverage to separate them a scant inch.
“Grocery shopping,” Steve breathes, heavy-lidded, his pupils blown and fuck, he’s so gorgeous. Eddie has long resigned himself to never getting over that fact, and actually, he loves the little thrill of lust-longing-love he feels whenever he catches sight of Steve’s face. Eddie could – has – written song after song about how beautiful Steve is, how fun and smart and badass he is, how easy it is to love him and so on and on. The rest of Corroded Coffin give him so much shit for it – how many metal bands have albums worth of love songs banked? they always tease – but Eddie’s songwriting process very much consists of dumping out what’s going on in his head in metre and verse. So it’s not his fault, really, because his head is full of Steve, like, 90% of the time on any given day.
But the thing is, no one knows the songs are all about Steve.
Which is fine, really, it is. They’d gotten close after Hell Break ‘86, squirrelled away together at Casa Harrington to keep Eddie safe from the righteous mob, and then the town had gone into military quarantine anyway. Eddie was fully recovered by then, but the arrangement was working for them, so they’d just continued on, until it was a random Thursday night and Eddie was laughing at one of Steve’s stupid dad jokes while he picked a record from Steve’s collection to play while they made dinner together, like they did every night, and being struck by the realisation that Steve Harrington was his best friend.
There was always something underneath it though, a little zing of delicious tension. Maybe they’d have danced around it forever, if not for the pesky Upside Down problem, if not for the tower, if not for Steve nearly falling off the tower. If not for nearly flinging himself off it too, to catch Steve’s arm. If not for the oh realisation in that moment.
They’d kept it secret because it was new and precious and fragile. Neither of them had ever felt that way about another boy before, and they didn’t need any external pressure on them while they figured it out, together. And now, suddenly, it’s like they’ve blinked and it’s 1990, a whole new decade, and they’ve been in a secret relationship for two years. It’s fine. Eddie doesn’t ever wake in cold sweat, unable to shake the notion that he’s not good enough for Steve, that he’s something bad and embarrassing, to be hidden away forever. Never.
He doesn’t even want to tell that many people. Just Robin – maybe it’ll stop her unbelievable knack for calling them the literal moment Steve’s getting a welcome hand down Eddie’s jeans. And Jeff, who keeps looking at Eddie like he lost some brain cells in addition to his left nipple in the bat attack, whenever Eddie brushes off the attention of girls at their shows. Jeff’s asked a few times, all sly and teasing, when Eddie is going to introduce his secret girlfriend to the band.
“Where are you?” Steve asks, the you wavering on the moan that punches out when Eddie slides a thigh between his legs.
It’s summer, which means everyone is back in Hawkins, and subsequently have completely invaded Casa Harrington-Munson, abusing pool privileges and their pantry. It’s also meant almost zero alone time, for like three weeks now, and they’re both getting a little desperate and risky. They’re so used to it usually being just the two of them in the house.
“Packing instruments,” Eddie murmurs, kissing along Steve’s jaw. “Have I told you I hate these shorts?”
They’re all the rage, Eddie knows because Steve told him so, some bullshit gimmick where the fabric changes colour between hot and cold. Hypercolor, Steve called them. Whatever they are, Eddie’s eyeballs are offended by the violet, violent blue.
“So many times,” Steve says, with a little chuckle. He makes a little noise of delight when Eddie’s hands drop to his asscheeks and stay there, holding firm handfuls. “I think they’re funky.”
“Dork. Can’t believe how much I love you,” Eddie sighs, kissing Steve senseless instead of waiting for his undoubtedly bitchy retort. “We should stop,” he says, though it’s the last thing he wants. Unfortunately, common sense has to prevail when they’ve got a houseful of their nearest and dearest, all the screaming and laughing and splashing muffled only by the walls between them. He squeezes Steve’s cheeks again, kneading, revelling in his beloved’s laughter. “Okay, now we stop.”
They tumble out of their hiding closet after a quick check that the coast is clear. When they reach the kitchen, Eddie only has half a second to process the sight before him – Jeff and Robin conspiratorially eating slices of the birthday cake Steve made for Lucas that has not yet been presented to the birthday boy – prior to the screech of “What the hell, Buckley?” that Steve lets out.
“What the hell me?” Robin demands right back, around a mouthful of cake. “What the hell you, Steven!”
“You wanna tell me why you’re ruining Sinclair’s cake?” Steve says, that flush Eddie so adores climbing his neck. He tries not to stare too long.
Jeff leans into Robin’s ear, whispering. She narrows her eyes at Steve, gaze pointedly dropping to his shorts. Her tone is triumphant – clearly she thinks she’s playing her trump card as she says, “You wanna tell me why you’re here, not grocery shopping as previously alleged, coming down the hallway like you’ve been up to no good, with Eddie’s handprints on the asscheeks of your colour changing shorts?!”
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for the full, uncropped version please check out my 🦋 or ❌
I saw the poll results on ig and understand that a large portion of people would also like to see a patreon for uncropped versions, so I'm working on getting one started as a creator as soon as I have time to sit down on my laptop!
Lazy afternoons in the woods vibes for the @steddiecaz zine, based on Le Printemps by Pierre-Auguste Cot (I only cried 3 times doing the foliage and drapery!)
Huge shoutout to the incredible artists, writers and moderators who made it all possible <3 you guys rule
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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for @corrodedcoffinfest day 16 prompt 'hypercolor'
rated t | 476 words | no cw | tags: band manager steve (yes, again), established steddie, corroded coffin on tour
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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.
Based on this fic by @morganbritton132 , a sketch for a comic that I will probably never finish.
✨️You can find more panels of this comic in my Ko-fi (it doesn't change the story at all but somehow I drew almost twice as many panels as there are here)✨️
The police station was very gray so I added a little yellow to make it not so boring, but now from my cell phone it looks too yellow. I swear it didn't look like that on the screen I drew it on.
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It’s late. Rain’s hitting Steve’s living room windows. They’re on the couch and eddie’s legs are on Steve’s lap and he’s mid-ramble about Wayne about how “Wayne would get so pissed, because I’d drag every blanket in the trailer into the living room. Couch cushions, chairs, that shitty lamp we weren’t supposed to touch because we’d get shocked but to poor to replace and I’d be in there for days, man. Had snacks, comics Never wanted to get out. Safest I ever felt.”
Steve’s quiet for a second, watching him. Then says “Huh.”
And Eddie says “What?”
Steve, shrugging, a little embarrassed “I never… actually made a fort. As a kid.”
Eddie sits up so fast dragging his feet away from Steves lap he almost knocks his beer over “I’m sorry, what?” Eddie stares at him like he just confessed to a crime. Then his whole face lights up, with a mischievous grin. “Oh, hell no. Nope. We’re fixing that.”
Steve blinks. “What, right now?”
Eddie’s already off the couch. “Yes right now, come on, I’ll show you. Childhood do-over, Harrington.” Eddie tearing through Steve’s house like he owns it. Going through closets and grabbing blankets from Steve’s bed and Couch cushions Steve’s just leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, absolutely gone for this man.
Steve laughs “Eddie, ome on You’re going to get everything dirty.” And eddie, dragging a dining chair in the living room “For a king,” he says, dropping everything in a pile with the goofiest, proudest smile. “Can’t have his majesty catching a draft in his first fort.”
Steve bursts out laughing, hand over his face. It’s so stupid. And It hits him all at once nobody’s ever done something like this to make him happy and god was he happy. And Steve, softly says “God, I love you.”
Eddie freezes. Blanket in hand. Then he grins, slow and dangerous, and drops the blanket. Two steps and he’s got Steve by the hips and backing him into the half -built pillow wall.
Eddie, nose to nose with him “it’s because of my good fort skills isn’t it?”
Steve can’t even answer. He’s laughing, but it’s wet, and he yanks Eddie down by his vest. “Shut up and finish the fort, Munson.”
They do eventually end up finishing it and It’s lopsided and one of the chairs keeps collapsing. String lights from Christmas are hanging inside because Eddie “always wanted those in a fort.”
Steve’s laying on Eddie’s chest, both of them under the questionable blanket roof. Eddie’s playing with Steve’s hair.
Steve says almost in a whisper “I get it now. Why you never wanted to get out.”
dyslexic Steve Harrington who tries to be all suave in the bedroom and confidently tells Eddie he's going to "radish" him with a night of "cardinal" love-making
baratheonpilled
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
theartofmadeline
