#discodrabbles

Steve runs a small bakery and has quiet mornings he preps all the goods for the day. In his sacred and quiet times (like 3am without a soul around as he's measuring ingredients and rolling dough) he listens to an audiobook of a fantasy series Dustin had recommended to him.

And he's enthralled by it and a little more than obsessed with the narrator’s voice. The series has a revenge plot, mythical creatures, romance and some very spicy scenes. The narrator uses the perfect tones and tricks to keep him in the story. The personality the man packs into it- well Steve couldn’t imagine reading them on his own, not when he can have this instead. (This being a slight infatuation with the voice of some faceless man folding him into some fantasy realm).

Simultaneously his first customer of the day is always this long haired tattooed man. Who gruffly points to a pastry and barely says a word, and when he has it’s with a sleep filled disused voice. His rings glint in the light and his big doe eyes have Steve leaned into his space as he hands over his pastry of the morning.

Usually it’s still just Steve in the store when the first few customers trickle in, covered in flour and fillings, still wearing his goofy frilly apron Robin insisted on buying him.

Steve is in too deep to ask the man his name at this point in their interactions just mentally refers to him as tattoos and doesn’t think too hard on it.

He has his audiobook still playing on a winter morning when tattoos comes in. Faint snow starting to fall making it look magical outside as Steve is lost in the words being read to him.

The door chimes,

Tattoos points to a flaky pastry with cheddar and raspberry when he squints at Steve, his sleep gravelly voice roughly asks, “You like fantasy?”

Steve’s cheeks heat up as he turns off the audiobook, “Sorry, lost in another world. Yeah? I mean- yes, kinda my first foray into it. I was never a big reader but the way this one is told I look forward to my mornings to listen to more.”

The man gave him a breath taking smile at his response, dimples and endearing crowsfeet lighting up his features,

“Don’t let me keep you from it then.” He paid and made his way out of the shop.

One day it happens to be Dustin in the shop begging for freebies after a night out at the late night bars, hangover creeping in and wheedling Steve to make him a breakfast sandwich even though ‘those aren’t on the menu Dustin’.

When tattoos walks in at his usual time, thrown off by someone else being in the shop too. Their interactions had grown since he’d asked about what Steve was listening to.

Dustin almost swallows his tongue and chokes out his words, “Y-you’re Eddie Munson.” He whispers out in astonishment.

Tattoos looks caught out.

The name doesn’t click for Steve right away as he pushes a breakfast sandwich over to Dustin (sue him, he’s a sucker).

It isn’t until his favorite patron leaves, flustered and also with a breakfast sandwich Steve had made for himself but wrapped up for tattoos that Dustin screeches about how Steve has been serving pastries to his favorite fantasy author for months and Steve never told him.

It crashes into place then.

Steve’s customer crush and his audiobook narrator are one in the same.

@steddiemicrofic

G|Dream|434| s2 sad steve|no cw

Title from Silver Jews, The Wild Kindness

Eddie let his mind wander, his eyes were closed and his face was angled up toward the late summer sunshine. Humidity had broken a few short weeks ago and the tips of some of the trees were just starting to change to their autumnal hues. There was a crispness to the mornings that warmed through the late afternoon.

It was his favorite time of year.

He was embarrassed over his second go at senior year, but out here, in the forest clearing, at his picnic table he could get lost in this pocket of sunshine. Let his eyes stay blissfully shut as he soaked in the warmth as his mind rolled into a lovely day dream.

One where he wasn’t himself for awhile.

Or maybe just a different version of himself.

He heard someone’s presence, “Oh, sorry Munson.”

Eddie cracked his eyes open to look upon the intruder.

Steve Harrington stood drenched in the afternoon sunshine, ethereal and dreamlike in his own way, something softer about the jock from years prior.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture.

“Looking to buy?” Eddie prompted.

Steve paused, “I don’t think I’ve got enough cash on me, and I was just looking for some place quiet before basketball practice.”

Eddie gave himself a beat to really take in the other boy. He looked exhausted. Even a little haunted?

Eddie leaned back and basked in the warm glow of the sun as the wind swept through gently, “I can be quiet.”

Steve snorted in disbelief, “I’ll hold you to it.” He said as he settled on the bench opposite of Eddie.

Eddie couldn’t help himself, “You can hold me to anything, big boy.”

Steve shot him an unimpressed look.

Eddie mimed zipping his lips and closed his eyes again. Steve Harrington wasn’t much of a threat without his usual entourage. He looked bone-weary.

Moments passed into more time. The stillness weirdly companionable. Eddie’s mind wandered to a place where Steve knew of Corroded Coffin, maybe would cheer in a crowd for him, a rolling crowd leaving Steve’s body flushed. Cheeks pink and smile just for Eddie.

His brain sending him mixed signals as Steve snored lightly, head rested on his hands atop the picnic table. An oddly sacred thing to take in.

Eddie drank it in, this close he could see the purple of Steve’s under eyes as his eyelashes kissed his cheekbones.

The metal head pulled out a rolled joint from the breast pocket of his battle vest and slipped it under Steve’s hands.

He didn’t wake him.

eddie's a leatherworker who has gained an insane amount of traction for his craftsmanship through his goofy social media posts: some a 'day in the life', some of him showing off custom floggers, restraints, and collars, some of him modeling his wearable pieces (suspenders, jackets, vests).

he has fun with it, he's always been a bit of a ham, and loves working with his hands as well as educating about safe, consensual, and careful use of some of his more risque products.

he's been in the scene for a long time and some of the comments on his videos where he's showing off the buttery leather of a new flogger can get thirsty.

he takes it in stride, has a laugh, and smiles even bigger when his sales spike due to certain videos.

cue a new commission for custom restraints that starts an email correspondence with steve, a construction foreman who is fielding questions and overseeing building sites daily,

who shares he wants a more comfortable restraint for the few times a month he heads into the city to have someone make the decisions for him while he subs at a kink club to shut his mind off for a blissful evening.

and sparks an ongoing epistolary friendship about D/s relationships, about preferences and daydreams, about themselves; the safety of the screen making it somehow easier to share.

steve sending eddie a picture one of the club doms took of him using the new custom restraints eddie lovingly crafted--

eventually more customs filled between their correspondence.

more sharing between the two of them, eddie still not having fully seen steve aside from the arsty and mainly faceless photos sent his way of his leatherwork in use by steve.

eddie plans a kink safety and sales event in steve's city, steve goes radio silence, leaving eddie wondering if he overstepped, or misread their interactions and countless emails-

What about…

Former MLB pitcher Steve- his life had been a pipeline of tee ball, little league, traveling teams leading him on the path to high school captain of the baseball team with a full ride to college and scouted for the major leagues. The kind of things some people only dreamed of-

Except his elbow was a wreck by the time he was creeping into his mid twenties.

The stray ball that slammed into said elbow had been his final straw of putting his body through repetitive abuse for a game he no longer loved in the same way; wasn’t sure the last time he truly felt that rush of passion for the American past time.

Three years later and Steve shifts gears:

He was laying in savasana, corpse pose, slowing his breathing from a restorative practice as his two chihuahuas pitter-pattered around him with one making her way onto his chest and laying her full bodyweight onto him as he continued his cycle of breaths.

“From here you can choose to stay in savasana for as long as you’d like, it seems buttercup is ready for attention, so I’ll start wiggling movement gently in my hands and feet. Slowly I’ll remove this sweet girl from my chest and roll to whichever side and incrementally push myself into a seated position.”

He did just that his hair in appealing disarray, in his dark green joggers and a Blondie tee shirt he had stolen from Robin eons ago.

“Now sit up tall, thanks for joining me in this practice today, and thank yourself for making time to do so- hands at heart center, one last cleansing breath in and out-“

He breathed in deep through his nose filling his lungs and stomach and cycled the air out of his mouth in an exaggerated exhale,

“Namaste.” Steve said as Buttercup and Teeny wagged their tails and trampled tiny paws into his lap and wrestled over one another to try and kiss his face.

The calm energy met with his loving critters had him let out a giggle before turning off the camera.

Yoga with Steve had become one of the most viewed at home yoga YouTube channels. Steve had never intended for it to be successful. It had started as something for him to connect with a community during his own journey of finding comfort in his body after so many years of punishing body conditioning.

It really blew up when he started incorporating his animal foster stories on his channel helping numerous four (or on occasion three) legged friends in the Chicagoland area get adopted into loving homes.

It turned out there was life after baseball.

Cue Rock star Eddie…

Eddie never dreamed that Corroded Coffin would be selling out mega venues and headlining festivals. He was close to thirty and years of giving his all on stage (and off) was catching up. He ached, he fatigued, fuck he'd given up drugs and alcohol three years ago (aside from weed) and still things wanted to catch up to him.

He felt like the tin fucking man.

Jesus H. Christ-

All of his bitching had his agent suggesting all kinds of body work and exercise- and Eddie barely had time to do things he wanted let alone something like having to exercise the chore of it had him wanting to rebel against it.

But he realized how good it felt pre-show to shake out his body and lean into some easy stretches. Liam, who only really put on the Freak persona onstage had caught the change in Eddie’s routine,

“Here, I sent you a link, that one’s only like twenty minutes but it’s a nice beginner flow.”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows and opened the text from his friend and band mate, Yoga with Steve popped up,

“You know I don’t…like do yoga. Very granola, hell I can barely touch my toes.”

Liam leveled him with a calm gaze, “Yeah, the point is to work on yourself, small goals, Ed. Maybe by winter you’ll be able to touch your toes.” He shrugged and wandered off.

Eddie forgot about the link.

Until a few days later his calves were tight and his entire body felt on the verge of a charley horse, they had been three nights on and today was a rest day. He pulled himself out of bed and opened the link.

And-

Holy shit—

Liam didn’t mention the guy was hot.

All perfectly messy hair and pronounced cupids bow.

Eddie did the entire twenty minute beginner video. It was the right level of challenging and relaxing, the smooth-voiced banter and light joking made it better, somehow more accessible for a self proclaimed non yoga person like Eddie.

He laid on his back and laughed at the name of corpse pose as his body felt less like a cramp and lighter than it had in awhile, also his mind felt less buzzing.

He watched the array of videos, learned about Steve being an ex pro baseball player and an animal advocate.

What he learned the most was the way Steve’s lightly toned stomach looked when he did any poses that sent his arms above his head and his often cropped tops to expose an unfair expanse of temptingly mole dotted skin.

Eddie’s own back popped satisfyingly as he followed along with a new upload he grinned as he watched the man’s just as beloved to his channel chihuahuas do their own expert versions of downward dog.

Steve ended the session as he always did with savasana and sitting back up for the last cleansing breath.

“Today I’ve got a four pup litter up for adoption and as many Chicagoans are talking about Riot Fest I decided to get inspired by it for their names!”

He popped back on screen with four black and white spotted wriggling and awe-inducing puppies:

“Now my friend helped me for the who’s who of Corroded Coffin one of the headliners playing the fest to get them the right names for the right personalities, here’s Gareth the sweet one, Jeff the strong silent type, Liam or Freak the surprisingly tame one, and Eddie-“

The last puppy was letting out a tiny awooo noise before squirming in Steve’s arms and licking his face,

“Eddie the wild card! He’s a little comedian, anyways folks let’s get these babies adopted!”

Eddie sat and replayed the end of the video.

Yoga with Steve was in Chicago.

Eddie would soon be in Chicago.

He took to his twitter; he couldn’t not help get his namesake adopted!

And if this gave him the perfect opportunity to meet Steve, that was just icing on the cake.

title from Stevie Nicks & Tom Petty, Stop Draggin' My Heart Around

March Prompt: @steddiemicrofic

E | 453 | Ride | 80s, no upside down, rockstar!eddie bartender!steve, not super graphic toes the line on M/E for rating.

The crop top rode up higher as Steve procured a bottle from the top shelf. Not a lot of people came into this kind of club requesting the good stuff. Especially on karaoke night, most folks wanted to get drunk on minimum wage.

“Okay, big spender,” Steve said as he turned to face the admittedly hot guy at the bar.

Aforementioned hot guy regaining his own composure after clearly being caught checking out Steve. Voilà, Steve thought to himself, Robin's homemade tailoring working again to help Steve pay his rent. That’s why he held onto the bartending job. Nothing beat fast cash.

Steve placed the expensive bottle of whiskey down in front of the patron and cocked his hip a bit more saucily with a smirk playing at his lips. The guy was doe-eyed and heavily tattooed, his eyes now catching Steve’s after being ripped away from taking in the ample sliver of toned flesh on display.

His features softened, “You like Fleetwood?” nodding to Steve’s top.

Steve grinned, Fleetwood Mac was a band he and Robs always agreed on.

“Yeah, a witch like Nicks, what’s not to like?”

The man had dimples when he smiled,  “Couldn’t agree more, on the rocks please, sweetheart.”

title from Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks, Lariat

1.2k | G | modern au, falling in love, pure freakin fluff because it felt needed today.

Washed up rock star Eddie looking to reignite meaning into his life decides to buy a run down farm on one hundred acres of land back in Indiana. He finds it some level of hilarious when he finds acreage for sale in Wayne County, calling his Uncle Wayne when the deal is done.

“Hell, kid, not sure what yer getting up to with all this,”  Wayne admonished fondly.

“Midlife crisis, I guess.” Eddie answered back a little too honest and raw.

I was working on a couple wips this weekend but then yesterday this little idea took hold, just a sweet little au!meetcute to kickstart your monday 🥰🧡:

title: The Bangles, Manic Monday

wc 988 | G | single parent!steve, garbage man!eddie

Monday had never been Steve’s favorite day of the week. He suspected that was true for most people. That was all before though.

Before Ty turned two.

Before Steve’s divorce.

Before becoming a single parent.

Before he moved back to Hawkins.

Because now Monday was the day they anticipated, Tyler was creeping up on three quickly and his main interests were trucks, their dog Twigs, his auntie Robin; and did Steve mention trucks? The bigger the better, and ones with a purpose? Whoa buddy, don’t get him started.

Ty was enamored by the garbage truck, and Monday’s were garbage collection day. When he turned two Robin had found a few decent trucks to gift Ty, or at the time twucks (which would never not be cute to Steve), the kid played with the fire truck, the construction truck, but the loud noise and fun mechanism of the garbage truck struck his little toddler fancy and had stayed steadfast in his admiration.

980 words | T language | au meetcute pre steddie & buckingham

The old jukebox flips to another song as Eddie winds through the aisles trying to catch a glimpse of a bouncy ponytail. Chrissy had dragged him along to a few different antique malls and he was nearing his capacity.

He was hungry.

He needed caffeine.

He needed a nap.

His attention was captured by someone coming up next to him, “Looking for anything specific?”

Eddie turned to a woman about his height. Choppy light brown bob, freckles, and an eclectic style grabbed his eye, “Yeah, a strawberry blonde about yea high-“ He held his hand to indicate Chrissy’s height, “Flitting around on a mission for lighting fixtures.”

The woman grinned back to him, “I think I can point you in the right direction, I’m Robin, not here to steer you wrong. I work here.”

“Eddie,” He introduced himself, “Unwilling participant in this endless madness for the perfect lamp.”