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 After I ran out of link space in my old masterlist, I let it fall about a year out of date.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: June 23th, 2026
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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.
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Written for week 2 of the @steddiemicrofic three-year anniversary challenge
Prompt: years, 444 words
Rated: T
Tags: No UD AU; Rockstar Eddie; Hairstylist Steve; Eddie is a horny shit; Confident Steve
The salon is called The Hair.
Eddie rolls his eyes at the pink sign.
“Didn't you say he was a genius? Doesn't extend to naming stuff, obviously.”
Gareth sighs. “He's the best stylist in town, and you're lucky he agreed to see you. Let's go, he doesn't like waiting.”
“The fuck?” Eddie sputters as Gareth drags him inside. “I'm a fucking rockstar, I'm never late. The show starts when I arrive.”
“Okay, Gandalf,” says a voice.
Eddie freezes. Because damn, that was a solid comeback.
Also because it came from the most gorgeous man he has seen in his life. Perfectly styled caramel hair. Cheekbones that look like they were carved from marble. He's regarding them with his hands on his hips, the seams of his pink polo straining against the muscles of his arms.
On Eddie, another seam strains. Further south.
“Eddie and Gareth, right?” says the man. There's a name stitched into his polo, in the same cursive font as the sign outside. Steve.
“That's us,” Gareth nods. “It'll be ten years since our first number one hit next week, and we have that big photoshoot.”
Steve, who has been dancing around Eddie, lifts a strand of frizzy curls between two fingers.
“His last haircut was around the same time, I guess?”
“Fuck you!” Eddie blurts. “I did cut it. Like three years ago. Also, the hair is my trademark.”
Steve gives him a look. “This isn't a trademark, it's a cry for help. Give me two hours.”
He's lucky he's hot, Eddie thinks. He'd never agree to this otherwise.
*
“Done,” Steve declares, swivelling the chair around so Eddie can look at himself in the mirror. “What do you say?”
Eddie doesn’t say anything. For one thing, he’s still weirdly floaty from the feeling of Steve’s hands in his hair, Steve’s fingers turning his head, Steve’s voice telling him to hold still or sit straighter.
For another, his jaw is currently on the floor.
Gareth puts down his magazine and whistles through his teeth.
“Amazing! It looks like his hair but … good!”
Steve smiles, spritzing Eddie’s curls with something smelling of citrus and herbs. The bottle says it’s for a glossy finish.
“One of my easiest exercises. You like it?”
“It’s not horrible,” Eddie concedes, standing from his chair and grabbing a grinning Gareth to pull him out of the shop. It’s the understatement of the century and they all know it. “Call our management about the bill, yeah?”
“Will do,” Steve promises. “Make sure to come by for a touch-up soon. Preferably sooner than ten years from now.”
Eddie guesses he will. Just because the guy is hot, obviously.
Prompt: Day 8 - Where's the beef? | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Ableist language | POV: Steve | Relationships: Steddie | Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, disabled Eddie Munson, ableism, protective Steve, mild angst, they're in love, happy ending I promise
Gareth doesn’t usually wander into Family Video without one of his merry band of misfits in tow, but apparently Steve has been blessed today.
“Eddie’s job sucks.”
Steve snorts. “Well, duh, he works in a burger joint huffing grease and frying mystery meat all day. Of course it sucks.”
“I mean, they’re being assholes to him.”
Steve straightens. “Who, the customers?” And hadn’t that been exactly what Steve had worried about when Eddie got the job? But he needed the money, needed to get his independence back and Wendy’s didn’t seem to care about the Spring Break bullshit.
The customers, on the other hand.
“No, his boss. In front of everyone.”
Yeah, he doesn’t like that.
Gareth’s over protective of Eddie after everything that happened, it could just be a boss riding his staff too hard.
Still, he’ll swing by, sometimes a friendly face is all you need to turn your day around. And he has a very friendly face.
Eddie beams at him from the drive thru window, impish grin and dimples just for him.
“Where’s the beef?” Robin shouts from the passenger seat.
“Very funny,” Eddie says, “I haven’t heard that in about ten minutes. Everybody’s a comedian. Are you here to order or just to see me, because—“
“Eddie! Get a move on!”
Steve can’t see the owner of the nasally voice, but he can see Eddie physically shrink before him. And it pisses him off.
They order some fries just to get out of the line, but they park up and take them inside because Steve absolutely wants to know who spoke to Eddie that way.
Eddie limps around the kitchen, getting moved from window to station to service counter, always with an impatient comment, which Steve and other customers should not be able to hear. These assholes are having a lot of fun at Eddie’s expense and it’s making him feel sick.
A couple of kids clean the tables beside theirs, and he overhears them laughing about ‘the cripple’ and his stomach drops. He moves to get out of his seat but Robin reaches over, squeezing his arm. “Don’t,” she says, quietly. “You’ll make things worse.”
He’s suddenly not very hungry.
Steve angles himself to get the best possible view of the counter and kitchen behind it. Eddie looks miserable, but he doesn’t snap back at anyone, just takes the comments and moves on. It breaks Steve’s heart but he gets it; it took Eddie so long to get this job, and he and Wayne really need the money. Millions of people put up with awful jobs to get by. It’s shitty but sometimes people just don’t have a choice.
As Robins slurps down the last of her Frosty, Steve gets a front row seat to a kid shoulder checking Eddie. Eddie does his best but he can’t stop the tray from tipping, food spilling all over the floor, a large Coke following it.
And in the middle of it all, Eddie, cheeks blazing.
Steve is out of his seat in a second, ignoring Robin’s pleas to sit down.
Eddie’s manager looms over him.
“How many more times do we have to put up with this?”
Steve flips the counter top open and barges past the gawping staff to help Eddie stand up from where’s picking bits of food off the floor.
“None, he’s not working here anymore.”
He grabs Eddie by the hand, leading him out to the parking lot, Eddie fighting him all the way.
“What are you doing?! I’m going to get fired!”
“They can’t fire you, you quit.”
“What the fuck, man. I need that job!”
“There are other jobs.”
“No there aren’t! Not for me!”
“Perhaps you could do this in the car?” Robin interrupts. “People are staring.”
Steve nods, she’s right, and Eddie’s embarrased enough as it is. They climb in and there’s a pause before Eddie speaks.
“I have thousands of dollars of medical bills.”
“I get that. I do. But I will not accept someone treating you that way. Not for any amount of money.”
Eddie sighs, wearily. “Steve—”
“If that was happening to Gareth would you be okay with it? Henderson? Me?” Steve lowers himself to catch Eddie’s eye line. “I don’t think you would.”
“I need the money, Steve. No one else will hire me. Do you not understand that?”
Steve shrugs. “So we’ll move.”
Eddie stares at him, open mouthed.
“What?”
“We’ll move. Hawkins isn’t the only place in the world, man. I can move in with you and Wayne for now. You’ll have two lots of money coming in to the house until you find something. We’ll make it work.”
Eddie shakes his head. “My life isn’t something for you to fix.”
Steve reaches over and takes Eddie’s hand in his, stopping Eddie from pulling away.
“I never said it was. Sometimes people need help. Right now it’s you. One day it will be me. How are we going to get through the rest of our lives together if we don’t let each carry the weight for both of us when we need it?”
The anger seeps out of Eddie and he deflates, angry alley cat all gone.
“The rest of our lives?”
“Is that not what you want?” Steve asks. He thought they were on the same page here. Has he fucked up?
There’s a hint of shy smile on Eddie’s face when he answers.
“I didn’t think that was an option.”
Steve squeezes his hand. “It’s an option. I thought it was a given. Sounds like I need to communicate more clearly. So for clarity’s sake, I love you, Eddie, I will do everything possible to keep you happy and safe for the rest of your life and I want you to do the same for me. Deal?”
“That sounded awfully like a wedding proposal?” Eddie says with a smile.
Steve laughs. “Yeah, well, you can take it however you want, point still stands. I love you. Now let’s go home.”
It's 3am here and this is probably laden with typos, sorry about that.
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for @corrodedcoffinfest day 9 prompt 'leg warmers'
rated m | 990 words | cw: implied suicidal thoughts (very brief, not detailed) | tags: angst with a happy ending, good friend steve harrington, hurt/comfort, coming out mentioned
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
Steve slams on the brakes. “Fuck!”
There’s a person on the side of the road. Just sitting there. Like it’s not snowing and nearly midnight.
What the fuck.
He puts on his emergency lights because if there’s anything Hopper’s driving lessons taught him, it’s not to fuck around when you’re in an emergency situation.
“Are you okay?” He yells as he gets out of the car, slamming the door shut.
“I’m fine.”
“Shit. Munson?” Steve kneels down in front of him and reaches a hand out. Eddie flinches. “You need a ride, man?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He’s shivering and his hair is soaking wet, probably from snow falling on it for who knows how long. What little he can see of his face is pale with red splotches like he’s got a rash or was crying. Steve’s pretty sure if he stays outside for too long, he’ll die.
“Dude, it’s freezing out here and you’re soaked. At least warm up a little in my car,” Steve tries, though it seems to fall on deaf ears. Eddie practically growls at him to go away, but Steve is stubborn. “I’m not gonna be witness to your death, man.”
“Then leave.”
Steve’s shocked into silence for a moment. Does he want to freeze to death? Seems like a pretty terrible way to go. If he actually wanted to die, he’d–
Well, maybe he thinks differently than Steve.
“No.”
Finally, Eddie looks up. Probably more out of frustration than anything else, but it lets Steve take him in better.
He has been crying. His teeth are chattering. His cheeks are bright red, but his lips are almost blue.
“I’m not letting you freeze to death. No one deserves that,” Steve continues. He grabs Eddie’s arm and tugs him up, not surprised when he can’t seem to stand on his own. Who knows if frostbite has already settled somewhere, or if he is dehydrated or starving. “The heat’s on and I’m sure I have something to help warm you up a little in the trunk.”
He’s actually not sure, but he’ll check anyway.
Eddie doesn’t put up much of a fight as he leads him to the passenger seat, but he’s probably not really able to. He seems too weak to waste energy on trying to run away. He’s glad he’s the one who found him and not someone who would hurt him.
Once he’s settled in the front seat, Steve closes the door and goes to open the trunk. He usually has a spare jacket at least hanging around, or a scarf left behind from one of the kids, maybe. Anything that might help warm him up.
He moves the nail bat out of the way, and the bag of clothes he’s supposed to bring to the donation center for Dustin’s mom. None of that will fit Eddie. He sees something in the back that looks like it might be sweater material, but it’s small. Maybe a kid did leave a scarf back here.
He reaches for it.
Leg warmers. How the hell does he have leg warmers and not a jacket?
He doesn’t know who they belong to or why they’re in his trunk, but it’s gotta be better than nothing. He could put them on his arms or something.
Steve closes the trunk and gets in the driver seat, holding out the leg warmers as if it’s a normal thing to provide someone shivering in the passenger seat.
“What are these?” Eddie asks through chattering teeth. That’s probably a good sign. Or maybe it’s not. Steve isn’t familiar with hypothermia signs. Eddie takes them and snorts. “I don’t think leg warmers are gonna help much.”
“It’s all I have. I’m taking you home,” Steve puts the car in drive, ready to pull back onto the road when Eddie’s shaking hand covers his arm. “What?”
“I can’t go home,” Eddie says, eyes wide and lip trembling. He looks scared. “Just take me to…I guess my friend Jeff’s house?”
“Where does Jeff live?”
“Same neighborhood as the Wheelers,” Eddie still looks terrified, like he might try to jump out of the car if Steve doesn’t agree. “I can get in without waking anyone up.”
Steve shakes his head. “No, I’ll just take you to mine.”
Eddie doesn’t argue, but he’s pretty sure the second he takes his eyes off him when they get to his house, he’ll run for it. He might chase him down. He might not.
The leg warmers sit unused on the center console. Steve doesn’t push.
–
Eddie’s snoring on his couch.
He looks warm and peaceful.
Steve nudges his shoulder gently to wake him. “Hey, man. I made some eggs and toast if you’re hungry.”
Eddie turns onto his stomach and lets out a loud snore.
Maybe later, then.
–
It takes a few days of Eddie quietly moving through Steve’s house before he finally seems to realize Steve isn’t gonna push him to talk or leave.
“My uncle found out I’m…uh,” Eddie breathes out. “Gay.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Eddie sighs. “He didn’t do anything. Didn’t even say anything to me. I just ran.”
Steve doesn’t really know Wayne Munson well, and he’s pretty sure that’s on purpose. Wayne keeps to himself, always has. But he took Eddie in a while ago when he easily could’ve said no. He donates food every Thanksgiving even though he’s working overtime just to pay his own bills. He helps the elderly people in the park mow their lawns over the summer.
“You worried he’s gonna hit you or something?” Steve asks.
“Not really. Just don’t think he’d want me around anymore.”
Steve hums. “Why don’t you talk to him?”
Eddie frowns. “Are you kicking me out?”
“Yeah, man,” Steve laughs. “Your uncle is probably worried about you. And he loves you. Don’t run from that.”
Steve takes him home later that day and winks at Eddie when Wayne crushes him in a hug.
rated m | 923 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: flirting, canon divergence, chrissy lives, jeff and chrissy on the run
🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️
It’s not a nice motel, but it’ll do.
His one and only job is to get Chrissy safely to Steve and Eddie’s temporary hideout in Nebraska. He didn’t think anything could be in Nebraska. Maybe that’s why they chose it for a hideout.
The room is cleaner than he expects and he’s grateful for it. Chrissy is nice, but she’s definitely used to a certain standard of living that most motels could never meet. She doesn’t look disappointed with this one.
“You can shower first if you want,” Jeff offers. They’ve been driving all day, taking extra turns and back roads to throw off anyone who might follow them. He didn’t mind too much except for the stress of looking in the rear view mirror every few miles and expecting a black SUV to be tailing them. “I’ll-“
He cuts himself off when she goes over to the bed and sits on it. She sinks a little and bounces back up, and then tilts back and forth a bit.
She giggles.
Jeff isn’t an idiot. Chrissy is beautiful. He’s also learned she’s incredibly nice and funny once she gets comfortable with you. It didn’t take him longer than crossing the state line of Indiana to develop a crush.
He didn’t think sharing a bed tonight would be a problem, but now that he sees her bouncing on what is clearly a waterbed, he’s not sure he’ll be able to sleep at all.
“Oh my gosh, my friend has one of these. It’s like being on a boat!” She giggles again as she bounces a bit more.
Jeff smiles at her. He can’t help it. She’s been pretty quiet for most of the trip. Obviously scared about the future, worried about having to make a new life for herself. Jeff would be scared, too. Shit, he is scared, and he’s just one step in her journey.
“Come here!” She waves him over with one hand and pats the bed next to her with the other. “It’s fun!”
Jeff’s pretty sure he’ll do anything to see her keep smiling, so he joins her. She nudges his shoulder and he bounces himself, which bounces her, and then they’re both laughing. They bounce more, even after Jeff stopped trying to, and eventually lose their balance, falling backwards on the bed.
He looks over to see her smiling up at the ceiling as both of their bodies keep moving to the rhythm the bed’s made.
When she looks over at him, he quickly looks up at the ceiling, hoping she doesn’t notice he was staring.
Her arm touches his, then her hand finds his and she laces their fingers together. He feels like he can’t breathe.
“Thank you for doing this,” she says quietly. There’s still a hint of a smile in her voice, but she’s gotten more serious now. “I know it’s a lot to take on. Risking yourself and everything. I just…”
“Needed to get out, I know.”
Jeff turns to look at her again and she doesn’t look nearly as sad as she did this morning. She’s almost glowing. Distance from Hawkins has clearly done wonders for her.
“Will you stay when we get there?”
“Oh.” Jeff breathes out. “Probably for a bit, so it’s not suspicious that I was only gone for a few days. But I have to get back to my parents.”
“Right.”
Her smile drops, but she doesn’t look away.
“Will you visit?” She asks. She almost sounds hopeful.
“Definitely. Once Steve and Eddie have a new place, I’ll probably bring more of their stuff to them,” Jeff says. “And I’m sure they’ll bring you with them.”
“What if they bring me somewhere else?”
“Then I’ll visit you there.”
He doesn’t know that he could, really. He has quite a bit of allowance money saved up, but he used some of it for this trip since Steve and Eddie pretty much had to start over and don’t have much to their name. If they take her somewhere he has to fly, he’d eat up a lot more of it. Maybe all of it. He doesn’t know how far they’ll go to keep her safe.
He’s pretty sure he’d go anywhere, though.
“You’re a good guy, Jeff.”
He can feel the heat on his face as she leans her head over to rest against his shoulder. He can’t help but lean his head down on top of hers.
“You wanna take a shower?” Jeff asks after they lay like that for a few minutes.
Chrissy sighs and stands up from the bed, laughing when she almost loses her balance from the water making sloshing noises as she moves.
She walks towards the bathroom and strips off her shirt. Jeff pretends not to look.
“I’ll be quick,” she says. When Jeff thinks it’s safe to look, he sees her taking off her pants. He doesn’t look away fast enough. She winks at him. He’s dead. “Or we could just both take one. Since there’s probably not much hot water.”
That could be true, but he’s fine with a cold one. Or he was, until this offer presented itself.
“Like…naked?” Jeff sits up.
“Well, yes. We do have to get clean,” Chrissy giggles again. It’s so cute. “Or maybe I read this wrong…”
“No!” Jeff stands up as quickly as he can. “I want to do that! Let’s shower!”
He tries really hard to focus on Chrissy naked in the shower with him instead of what they might do in the waterbed after.
Prompt #10 - Waterbed | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Established Relationship, Banter, Eddie Gets a Secondhand Waterbed, Steve is Less Than Thrilled
"I don't know," Steve says, standing in the hallway, holding up the middle of the garden hose, as Eddie drags it through the house, thanks to their propped open back door.
"C'mon, live a little, Harrington," Eddie says, forging ahead, "It was a steal."
Steve snorts, like he isn't sure this thing was worth anything. Let alone what Eddie paid.
He couldn't be more wrong. This is luxury. This is how rich people live.
At least Eddie thinks so.
"Do the rich all have waterbeds?"
"Absolutely not," Steve says. "My mother would find this the height of tacky."
"Well, then. We better get two."
Steve chuckles, and Eddie knows he's got him.
Now that Steve is begrudgingly on board, this should go much smoother.
They own a waterbed now.
"It's freezing," Steve says, disgruntled. Wiggling on the newly filled mattress, making Eddie jiggle on the other side of the bed as he rides the wave of Steve's movements. "It's like it's leeching all my body heat."
"There's a heater underneath! Give it a chance to work!"
"Uh, yeah," Steve says, sounding unconvinced.
"In the meantime let's get this baby rocking!" Eddie shouts, giving it a hard smack. "Let's put some motion in the ocean."
"I'm having second thoughts," Steve says.
"About the waterbed?" Eddie asks, feeling a little crestfallen.
"About you," Steve retorts dryly, and Eddie cackles.
He knows better.
"C'mon. Blowing off some of this steam will do you good.
"I'm not laying my back on that cold ass plastic."
Eddie rolls his eyes.
"I'll bottom, c'mon," Eddie says. Tucking his knees upwards.
"Oh, great, so I have to find leverage against this thing to do all the work? I get to drive my knees into the bottom frame? Sounds fun."
Eddie laughs. Steve's awfully high maintenance today.
"You can sit on my dick, I'll do the work."
Steve still looks displeased. But he caves. "Fine."
It's a rough ride.
Eddie's trying to thrust up into him, and they're just getting battered around. Up and down, and side-to-side. A rhythm is impossible to maintain.
It's like they are playing tug-of-war. And not in a good way, as both of them try to strong-arm the rhythm, the pace, and aren't very successful. Steve's huffing, annoyed, and Eddie's just gripping his hips, trying to get them in sync. It might be impossible.
They have good sex. That's never been a problem.
This? This might be a problem.
"Just stop moving!" Steve finally snaps, and Eddie stills his movements immediately.
"Yes, sir," Eddie snarks, and Steve places a hand in the center of Eddie's chest, and rolls his hips. Gently. Testing the waters, literally. The wave starts, but this time it's a softer roll towards the head of the bed and back down. Steve tilts his pelvis up, testing another small movement, and well, that's nice, too.
Steve catches the wave on the way back and shifts with it. Grinding down on Eddie's cock.
Oh.
It's free momentum. That's the secret. They've gotta move with the natural coasting motion the bed is making, not try to jackhammer it to their will.
Steve is figuring it out in real time. Eddie can see it all over his face as he concentrates. Eddie shouldn't be surprised. This is Steve's wheelhouse. The mechanics of movement. Eddie just stomps and flails and scampers through life.
Steve gives another roll, a light moan escaping from his parted lips.
"Okay," he crows with a grin, "I've got it now. Go with the flow."
"Did you piss the bed again?" Steve mutters, voice thick, full of sleep.
"That was one time and I was blackout drunk. You were there. Did you piss the bed?"
Steve makes an annoyed noise, and Eddie knows he's skating on thin ice at — 2:23 in the morning — while Steve's ass is wet.
"It's leaking," Steve says, stating the obvious.
"Are you sure it's not from you?" Eddie asks.
And the noise Steve makes is enough to wake Eddie fully.
"I might be leaking, but if it's down on the side of my thigh, we've got problems," Steve says, haughtily.
"Gotcha," Eddie says, rolling carefully out of the bed, and onto his feet as Steve sloshes around, following.
"It says to apply the patch while it's dry," Eddie says, holding up the instructions of the ancient waterbed patch kit that came with it. The overhead light is blinding at this time of night. Hostile, even.
Steve wipes the bladder with the towel again, and more water bubbles up. If looks could kill, Eddie would be dead.
"Well, that's easier said than fucking done," Steve snaps. If he doesn't get his eight hours of beauty sleep he's a fucking bear, and this has already taken the better part of an hour.
"Maybe we need to drain it."
Steve throws the towels down, hands finding his hips, "Do you know how many gallons of water are in this thing? We aren't draining it!"
Eddie holds his hands up, conceding.
"Just fucking help me. I'm gonna force this part upwards. You wipe it dry, then apply that godforsaken patch. Got it?"
"I got it," Eddie says, and Steve nods, trying to wrangle the heavy, vinyl waterbed mattress. Wrestling it. It looks impossible to move, it's so heavy. But, Steve places a knee beneath the spot of the hole strategically, forcing the spot with a hole up as high as he can, grabbing a slick fistful around it, shoving upwards.
"Now!" Steve yells, and Eddie springs into action. Drying the pinhole twice, just to make sure, and then sticking the patch down.
Steve lets go, and the mattress flaps back towards the sides of the bed frame with a thwack. Jiggling as it settles back into shape. Steve leans back on his haunches.
"Did it work?" Eddie asks, and Steve gets up, shedding his damp underwear, putting on a dry pair.
"Guess we'll find out," Steve says, "but you're sleeping on that side now."
Well, that seems fair.
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! 🦇
rating: G | wc: 333 | ao3
also inside: pov wayne, steve's chevy, secret-ish relationship
The first time Wayne sees the strange Chevy, it’s in their driveway. He assumes Jeff finally got that car his folks have supposedly been promising for three years. Inside, instead of finding Eddie and his buddies watching TV, he hears voices back in Eddie’s room, muttering curses and whispering indistinctly about him being home early. Eventually, the shh-thunk of the window opening precedes a couple of yelps as someone climbs out.
That’s not too bad. Eddie’s twenty-three; if he’s fooling around with someone, it’s not Wayne’s place to intrude even if he wanted to.
The second time he sees it, it’s parked outside Claudia Henderson’s place. That still isn’t odd—Eddie and her Dustin run in the same circles. What Wayne isn’t counting on is who’ll walk out the front door just as he’s passing the house.
Steve Harrington waves over his shoulder to Claudia, who laughs at something he said while he climbs into the driver’s seat.
Since when does Harrington’s boy drive a truck? Wayne thinks, followed by, My Eddie is fooling around with Harrington’s boy?!
Wayne isn’t going to butt in, but this is one of those instances that reminds him despite how loud and uninhibited Eddie is, he’s far from a great communicator. Steve’s never been anything but polite to Wayne in passing, but he can’t help worrying about the implications of the two of them sneaking around.
The third time Wayne sees the Chevy, it’s back in his driveway. He steels himself to enter the house.
Eddie greets him with an enthusiastic, “Wayne!” Steve stands beside him.
“How’s it going, Ed?” Wayne tries.
“Great. Listen, I…want you to meet my boyfriend. Steve.”
Boyfriend. The word fills him with relief. It’s serious enough; it means something.
Steve smiles and offers a handshake. “Sorry it took so long. I’ve been begging Eddie to introduce us for weeks.”
Wayne smiles back as he accepts it. “Boy sure can be stubborn.” He raises an eyebrow at Eddie, who purses his lips in defiance.
Prompt #9 - Leg Warmers | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Clothed Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, And Steve Harrington Decides to Drive Him Insane
Holy shit.
Eddie is frozen. Stuck behind the door, watching through the glass. Steve is on his back, doing hip thrusts, grabbing both of his heels, bouncing, legs spread wide.
Then he pushes his legs upwards, weight resting on his shoulders, as he rolls backwards. Feet behind his head as Jane Fonda gives instructions on the TV.
Robin is there, too, doing the same thing. But that's not of importance. Not when Steve is bent like a fucking pretzel in his neon shorts, leg warmers on his legs. Like they had to get dressed up to do this workout.
Steve's shorts have slid down with his legs up that way, and Eddie wants to fucking mount him. Wants to keep him bent in half, maybe forever.
Eddie reaches down to adjust himself in his jeans, hand cupping, squeezing, trying to relieve the pressure, and Steve must catch the movement, because he smiles at Eddie, wiggling his fingers, and Eddie? Well, Eddie runs.
He's going to have to leave town. That's all there is to it. He's going to pack up his shit and go before he has to face Steve with Steve knowing what he must know. That Eddie was watching. That Eddie was turned on by him bent over, ass in the air.
That Eddie clearly wants to fuck him.
Nope. He's not living through that.
He'll leave town. Change his name. Eddie Munson? Who's that? Never heard of the guy.
Eddie is still looking around his room, deciding what he needs to take with him when he does this fleeing, when he hears the front door open and close.
"Eddie?" Steve calls out, and Eddie wishes he could disappear.
Steve pushes open Eddie's bedroom door, the one in the new house, the one that isn't quite home. Not yet. Not ever. And Eddie is mortified. He should have just died at the teeth of the bats. That would have been preferable to this.
He never asked to be friends with Steve Harrington.
He never asked to be attracted to him, or men in general, for that matter.
Eddie never asked for a lot of things he's been saddled with in life.
"Eddie?" Steve asks, voice closer, right behind him now.
"I'm sorry," Eddie says, refusing to turn and look at him.
"What for?" Steve asks, his hand now gripping Eddie's arm, turning him. He's still in his stupid workout gear, and Eddie just stares at his feet. At the scrunched leg warmers around his ankles.
"Why are you dressed like that?" Eddie chokes out, because he's never seen Steve in anything like it. Steve's all man. With the chest hair, and the big hands. He's not neon green and hot pink. It's just not him.
Steve laughs, "Robin thought it'd be fun. I don't know. We just decided to try them out with one of Robin's workout tapes. Jane Fonda. She's a babe," Steve says, and Eddie doesn't think Jane Fonda is a babe. He thinks Steve is a babe.
And there lies the problem.
"Or so Robin says," Steve adds, and Eddie still can't look at him. "Why'd you run away?"
Steve must know. He has to.
Eddie shakes his head.
And Steve's hand settles on Eddie's hip, tugging him closer. This is just gonna make everything so much worse, but Eddie allows himself to be pulled further into Steve's orbit.
"Did you like what you saw?" Steve asks, and Eddie can't deny it. Can't say anything with Steve's thumb finding a sliver of bare skin beneath Eddie's sleeveless tee, the arm holes cut far too large. Rubbing. Caressing him.
"Eddie," Steve says, breath ghosting across Eddie's cheek.
He's too close.
Eddie wants him closer, still.
And Eddie's impulsive side wins. He's moving, suddenly, probably startling Steve. But Steve goes with it. Allowing Eddie to push him onto his back, flopping on the new mattress that Eddie hasn't even gotten broken in yet.
Legs falling open. Hips tilted. The little nylon shorts, slipping up his hairy thighs, pooling at his crotch.
Eddie pushes Steve's legs further upward, fingers gripping his thigh as he bends him backwards, pressing his dick, hard and trapped in his jeans, against Steve's ass.
Steve moans, a hoarse, deep sound, and Eddie thrusts against him.
"Is this what you wanted when you put on this outfit?" Eddie asks, voice ragged, breathless. "Did you want to drive me crazy? Did you want me to fuck you?"
Steve whines, clutching at Eddie's messy sheets.
"Unintended consequences," Steve says, meeting Eddie's eyes, and Eddie rubs against him harder. Then, slides his hand down into the leg hole of those loose shorts, hand curling around Steve's big dick. Hard and trapped by his underwear. Eddie rubs him, thumb grazing the sensitive head of Steve's cock as Steve clenches all his muscles. Eyes dark, pupils blown wide open.
Eddie keeps jerking him off through his briefs as he ruts against his ass, Steve's feet swaying in the air.
It's absurd.
It's also the hottest thing Eddie's ever experienced, and he's not even naked.
"Gonna fuck you just like this someday," Eddie says, running his mouth, "Gonna keep you bent over and begging."
Steve comes, body tensing, a long whine escaping his throat.
And Eddie thrusts against his ass a few more times, before making a mess of his own boxers. Breathing heavy as he backs off, and gently lowers Steve's shaking legs to the mattress.
Steve's face is flushed, glistening with a sheen of sweat, and Eddie leans forward and kisses his forehead. Steve doesn't stand for that though. No, he grabs Eddie by the back of the neck, crushing their lips together, his tongue sliding into Eddie's mouth, brushing against Eddie's.
Eddie kisses him until Steve pulls back, still holding Eddie's neck, "You promise?"
And Eddie isn't following.
"Promise what?" Eddie asks.
"That you're gonna keep me bent over and begging," Steve says, and Eddie groans.
Fuck. He's in over his head.
Oh well.
Guess he'll drown.
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This comment was left on a post about making the most of the Libby app. "Excessive use of generous lending policies" is the most absurd phrase I've ever seen anyone use to discuss libraries.
Perhaps the most insane take I've ever seen from any author. Super-readers are an author's very best friend for a few reasons.
If they like the book enough, they may very well purchase their own copy. If there are multiple versions of the book available (ebook, paperback, etc) they're likely to go for the physical copy, which has a higher profit margin.
Big readers often recommend their favorite books to friends and family, who may decide to purchase an ebook/physical copy based on the recommendation if a library version isn't available.
They leave reviews on Goodreads/Storygraph/etc or run their own reading blogs, which is huge for visibility.
Libraries don't keep licenses for books that aren't getting borrowed and don't shelve books that aren't getting checked out. If a book is constantly getting checked out (due to recommendations), then the library may purchase more copies.
If you have a multi-part series and the library only stocks the first part, then the reader may request the rest from the library (resulting in a sale) or not want to wait and purchase their own versions (again resulting in a sale).
Also, at least for Draft2Digital, library copies make almost double the profit of a direct-to-consumer sale. Yes, it may "reduce" your sales because people are borrowing, but who is to say they would have bought it in the first place?
I just really hate other authors who feel entitled to sales. You aren't entitled to jack shit. Be grateful that someone isn't pirating your books and you're making any sales whatsoever, even if it's a single-time sale to a library that results in multiple reads.
Most of us writers have spent many happy hours as children in libraries, well before we had our own pocket money to buy books, and inhaled every book we could find. We OWE it to libraries to give back, because their "generous lending policies" were what made our own books possible. If anything, we authors should be demanding higher funding for libraries and donating copies of our books (if the library wants them).
There is no scenario, in the history of the world, where someone checking a book out from a library is a net loss. For anyone. Not for authors, not for readers, not for society. And frankly, I hope this person makes zero sales for all of eternity as punishment for defaming libraries in such a way.
Prompt #8 - "Where's the Beef?" | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: AU, Office Setting, Meet Cute, Misunderstanding, Free Donuts!
"Eddie, can we chat?"
Eddie looks up from his desk, er, well, the desk he'd commandeered months ago. He nods, wondering if the jig is finally up.
Steve Harrington is standing in the doorway of his office, a tight smile plastered on his face. And oh yeah, Eddie's definitely fucked.
Holding open his arm, Steve gestures towards the chair across from him. Eddie takes it. Steve's face is confused. Kind, too. But mostly confused.
"Eddie," Steve starts, tapping away on his keyboard. Stuttered little henpecks that Eddie finds endearing. "After our audit, I can't seem to find any files submitted by you. Not for a while. Not ever, actually."
Eddie grins, in a way that he hopes looks impish, throwing up his hands in a 'what can you do?' motion.
"And everybody has to pull their weight. I can't have someone on the payroll that isn't contributing. Have you done anything?"
Eddie shakes his head.
"So, um, I'm really sorry to do this. But I'm going to have to let you go."
"You can't," Eddie says plainly.
"Eddie, I don't have a choice. There's literally nothing from you! You're doing no work! Where's the beef? Not here, not from you."
Eddie laughs. Steve's funny. In a dorky way.
"You can't fire me," Eddie says again, playing with him, just a little. He's gotten to know Steve, and has liked him a lot.
"I am, and I will. You are fired," Steve says, but doesn't seem all that sure about it.
Eddie finally smiles, "Steve. I don't work here. I've never worked here. I'm here for the free cake and good conversation."
Steve's brow creases, confusion coloring his features, "No. That's not. I put you at that desk."
Eddie nods. Yep. He definitely did that.
"You were a temp?" Steve says, voice lilting up as though he's unsure.
"Yeah, just not for you," Eddie answers, pointing to the other side of the building, "I was a temp over there, and you guys were having donuts, and I wanted donuts, and then I had a desk. It's a nice desk."
"Am I even paying you?"
Eddie shakes his head.
"Then, what do you do for work?" Steve asks, "You're here every damn day."
Eddie laughs, "I'm a musician. At night. And I'm not always here. Just Fridays. Some Tuesdays."
Steve laughs at that, running his hand down his face. Clearly exasperated.
Then, he stands, walking towards his office door, closing it with a heavy snick.
Eddie stands, too. It was just a joke. He'll pay for the cake if that's what it takes. As long as Steve doesn't call the cops. As long as he isn't trespassed and arrested.
As long as Steve isn't really mad at him.
"I didn't mean to upset you," Eddie says in a rush. "I'm sorry. I like you. I didn't mean to keep coming in."
Steve stalks towards him. Eddie keeps talking.
"I pretended I worked in the field four days a week. Then, I'd come in here, enjoy casual Friday and eat whatever the employee snack of the week was. Steve. I'm sorry."
Steve places a hand in the center of Eddie's chest. Fisting his casual Friday t-shirt.
"Eddie Munson," Steve says, then furrows his brow, "You are Eddie Munson, right?"
"I am, I've never lied about anything else, and technically I didn't even say that. You did. You gave me a desk and I just took it. I liked you, and you had donuts, so I went along."
Steve laughs, and it sounds a little unhinged.
"Do you know that you've driven me crazy?" Steve asks.
"What—?"
He's kissed. Well and fully kissed, and Eddie leans into it. Hands finding Steve's back, pulling him closer. Kissing him, or being kissed, Eddie can't be sure which. But he likes it. He likes Steve. Steve's the reason Eddie kept coming back, because Eddie loves seeing Steve every Friday.
He'd help him run the copier, or volunteer to go with him to pick up the donuts or cake. Pizza. Tacos. Bagels. They've had everything.
And he's had fun. So much fun.
Steve pulls back, licking his lips, eyes looking a little wild, "Do you have any idea how long I wanted to do that? But I couldn't. Because you worked here, Eddie."
Eddie gives him a sheepish smile.
But Steve shakes his head, "All this time. All this time I could have asked if you wanted to go out for a drink. Or dinner. Anything. But I didn't. Because it would have been inappropriate."
"I'm sorry," Eddie says, because he never thought Steve liked him like that. Eddie had a crush. But what's new? Eddie always has a crush on people he shouldn't. And sure, Steve was nice and friendly while Eddie flirted shamelessly, but Eddie never thought he had a chance. Not even once, or he'd…
"Just," Steve says, looking exhausted, "Do you want to get a fucking drink?"
Eddie laughs, guffaws actually, nodding. "I'd love that."
"Well, good. Now, are you gonna go with me to pick up the build your own sundae bar?"
"Absolutely," Eddie confirms, bowing, holding out his arm for Steve to go first.
"And then you'll tell all your co-workers what you've been doing?"
"Uh," Eddie says, sheepish, "I'm pretty sure they already know."
Steve shakes his head, but huffs out a laugh.
Before
Eddie sees the donuts being carried in. Box after white box.
And well, Eddie wants a donut. So, he follows the handsome man in the suit into the meeting room, and takes a seat along the window. Out of the way. Hoping to go unnoticed.
Eddie gets his donut. And then a second, but when he tries to sneak away, he's caught.
"Steve Harrington, CEO," Steve Harrington, CEO says.
Eddie nods.
"Eddie. Eddie Munson," Eddie offers.
"Welcome, Eddie. It's always nice to see a new face. Do you have a desk yet?"
Eddie shakes his head. He most certainly does not.
"Well, let me find you one."
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇
Notes: This was actually inspired by this proverb from Welcome to Nightvale, haha.
prompt: three | wc: 333 | rated: E | tags: boys in love, hand job, light bondage | also on ao3
Steve's really no better than a dog conditioned to salivate at the jingling of a bell, can feel the downward rush of blood pumping hot into his lower half at the sight alone.
Eyes fixed on thick fingers with calloused tips, veins visible on the back of his hands, moving methodical, almost ceremonial, as Eddie slowly slides one chunky ring after another off his left.
One-two-three, he lets them drop onto the nightstand individually, each thudding sound sending little shocks of desire through Steve, making impatience grow into unbearable need.
The single ring on his right stays on, always does, and Steve can already feel a phantom sensation of it on his skin before Eddie's even close enough to touch him.
"Please," he hears himself beg, heart picking up pace when Eddie looks down at him and laughs.
"I got you, baby."
It's a promise Steve knows he'll keep, but it doesn't soothe the ache, not with all this distance still between them.
Eddie's making a show of it, coating his fingers with the translucent gel. He ignores Steve's lusting gaze, eats him up instead with dark, hungry eyes, unashamedly feasting on the most vulnerable parts of him.
Steve waits in suspense, trembling with anticipation as the seconds pass, stretching into what feels like minutes until Eddie finally straddles his thighs. One hand wrapped around himself, the other spreading warmed up lube along Steve's cock, offering a smooth glide when he rubs their tips together.
Steve moans at the feeling and Eddie harmonizes with his own satisfied sound, mumbles sweet praise between open mouthed kisses that makes Steve blush from his ears down to his chest.
Eddie's hands work in tandem while Steve's own are bound at the wrists, tied up and useless.
'You won't need them. Just let me take care of you,' Eddie had said, coaxing Steve into forced surrender.
Now helplessly subjected to his will but unafraid to do the trust fall. Because he knows Eddie will always catch him.
rated T | written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘three’ + 333 words | slice of life, injury, being goofballs as always
—
Three. That’s how many front teeth Eddie knocks out of his head trying to pull off some boneheaded trick at the skate park. “Owwwww,” he whines pitifully from the back seat of Steve’s car where he’s got his head in Robin’s lap, the sound muffled behind a bag of frozen peas pressed to his mouth.
“Yeah, well,” Steve says, stepping harder on the gas. Eddie’s teeth are in his pocket. “That’s what you get for trying to impress a little girl.”
“Excuse you,” Max glares from the passenger seat. “I’m fifteen tomorrow.”
“You’re a baby.”
“I have tits!”
“Ew.” Steve doesn’t want to think about her tits, for god’s sake.
“Steve,” Robin chides, adjusting Eddie in her lap as they round the last corner into town. “Don’t body shame.”
Max ignores her. “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “It wasn’t even impressive.”
“Hey!!” Eddie sits up; takes the bag off his mouth to protest; ends up spraying blood across the roof of Steve’s car as they go over a speed bump. Goddammit. Goddammit, he’s lucky Steve would do anything for him.
Steve scowls at him in the rearview and pulls up to the dentist’s office. “You’re cleaning that up.”
—
They get Eddie in to see the dentist surprisingly quickly.
Steve goes back with him, hangs out at the edge of the exam room and horrifies the assistant when he fishes three teeth roots-and-all out of the blood-stained front pocket of his jeans. Eddie’s all loopy on laughing gas so they can reimplant the two front teeth — “we’ll need to replace the lateral incisor” — and the whole ridiculous ordeal is kinda worth it when, at the end of the appointment, just the two of them alone in a tiny room, Eddie looks up at Steve like he hung the moon, gives him a big gap-toothed smile, and says “hey” like ‘I love you.’
Prompt #7 - The California Raisins | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Recreational Drug Use ('Shrooms) | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Christmas, Eddie Munson Lives, And Goes On A Trip
"Whatcha watchin'?" Steve asks, flopping down on the couch next to Eddie.
"A horror movie," Eddie says, and Steve takes a look at the TV. It doesn't look like a horror movie. It looks like a cartoon. A child's cartoon. A Christmas special, he thinks. Like Frosty.
"This?" Steve asks, pointing towards the screen. Maybe their ideas of horror movies differ vastly.
Eddie nods, dramatically. Eyes fixed on the movement on the television.
Steve gets a good look at him. His pupils are huge, and he's fucked up.
"There were dinosaurs eating waffles."
Steve raises an eyebrow, but keeps looking at him.
"And singing and dancing camels. Look! They have knees. And shoes. Like yours. Why would camels need tennis shoes?" Eddie whispers, like he's horrified by this possibility.
Steve laughs.
"Right. Of course," Steve says, humoring him. "So. Totally unrelated to the camels in my shoes — what did you take tonight?" Steve asks in a singsongy way.
Eddie doesn't miss a beat.
"Gareth and I had some mushrooms. We ate them. He's in the bathroom puking."
Steve chuckles. Halluciogenics. That tracks with how Eddie's acting right now.
Next up, there are Claymation bells, and Steve slings an arm over Eddie's shoulders. There's a clay version of Quasimodo directing their bell orchestra.
Eddie's clearly horrified.
"Look at him. He's terrifying."
Steve doesn't agree, just laughs. This is funny, and when the bell that isn't doing anything the way he's supposed to chucks his hammer away, and then tries to steal the hammers of others around him, Steve laughs.
"It's not funny!" Eddie exclaims, and it really is. Eddie's reaction is making this a thousand times better than it would be on its own. Steve's sure of that.
Eddie's face is pressed into Steve's chest, one eye still glued to the screen.
"That bear has boobies," Eddie says.
"Pretty sure that's a walrus," Steve answers, "and yes, she does."
By the time the trippy Joy to the World comes on, with the Earth shifting and moving, and changing faces in the sun, Eddie's full-on freaking out. Steve's gotta get him to bed, and Gareth out of the bathroom.
"C'mon," Steve says, "time for bed."
Eddie is slow to get up, transfixed by the changing colors. Like he's hypnotized, but in a traumatized way. Steve didn't need some children's Christmas special to tell him they're all a little traumatized. He experienced all that first hand, thank you very much.
When the hands scroll across the screen, traveling upwards, Eddie screams.
"That's it," Steve says, and gets him to his feet. "Bed."
Eddie only makes it halfway to the doorway before he wheels around, "Hey! It's the California Raisins! That's why I was watching this!"
And there's no use fighting him, Eddie bails back onto the couch, and Steve must follow. Those are the rules in this life he's chosen to live.
Eddie watches, no longer scared, transfixed, and Steve is pretty sure he's gonna wind up at Hardee's to collect even more of the California Raisins figures.
When it finally ends and the credits roll, Eddie says, "Garfield was on before this. He went to the farm for Christmas. He breathed fire."
"I'm sure he did," Steve says, guiding Eddie by the shoulders towards the bedroom. When they pass the open bathroom door, Gareth is leaning against the wall, and gives Steve a thumb's up. At least he's among the living.
Steve digs around the stereo, and finds The California Raisins – Sing The Hit Songs tape, shoving it into the deck. It starts somewhere in the middle of Lean on Me and Steve helps Eddie get undressed and ready for bed. Hopefully he'll be long asleep before Steve needs to get up and change the tape to the other side.
"What the fuck did we watch last night?" Eddie asks, rubbing his eyes with his fingers in a way that Steve thinks must hurt.
"You watched a Claymation Christmas special while on shrooms. It was interesting, to say the least."
Eddie laughs, and Steve rolls over, placing his hand in the center of Eddie's chest.
"You better this morning?"
Eddie nods.
"Glad to hear it. Gareth might still be in our bathroom."
Eddie laughs, a scratchy sound, and hauls himself up out of bed. Steve follows, and sure enough, Gareth is still sound asleep on the bathmat. Steve offers to go make some breakfast while Eddie gets him up and off the floor.
Steve doesn't know why they keep dabbling. Or at least, why Eddie keeps dabbling with Gareth. History has proven Gareth can't handle anything they've tried. His tolerance is worse than Steve's despite partaking more often.
Still, it's nothing a little food and attention from Eddie won't cure.
After digging in the fridge, Steve is just about to crack and egg into the bowl when he hears, "Hey, Steve! We want Hardee's!"
Steve closes his eyes, tilting his head back. Fine.
He places the egg back into its carton, and clutches the edge of the counter.
"Fine!" he yells back, and knows until that damn California Raisins promo is history, he's always gonna eat another cinnamon raisin biscuit drizzled in icing for breakfast just so Eddie can procure another .99 toy.
Nobody warned him that this was what would happen when he fell in love with a nerd. Happy Meal toys. Collectable glasses. And it's not even as if Eddie's sucked this out of his thumb, either. Wayne collects, too. Just mugs. And hats. Still. It feels very similar, his things just require Steve to drive all over, trying to complete all of Eddie's little sets.
They ate Pizza Hut once a week until the Flintstones glasses were all bought. Collection complete. Last year, it was the Popples ones. Steve honestly doesn't remember what it is even like to drink out of a glass that doesn't have some sort of cartoon character on it.
Still, he'd change nothing.
"Hurry up! I'm hungry!" Steve yells, and finally hears feet on linoleum.
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: If you've never seen the Christmas special that was referenced throughout this fic, it was Will Vinton's A Claymation Christmas and you should watch it. And The California Raisins were a big deal during this time period. I don't actually remember what time of the year in 1987 that Hardee's promotion took place, though, and couldn't find it online. So, I'm just pretending it was over Christmas, lol.
And yes, this fic takes place specifically on December 21st, 1987, and yes, A Garfield Christmas did air directly before on CBS. Never seen that either? Here!
Credit for the TV guide picture from this cute retro video. Check out the Rodney Reindeer plush next to the TV. You just know Eddie made Steve get those from Burger King that year as well.
Also? While all the 70s and 80s collectable glasses are cool and I still have lots of my original ones, they were painted with lead and/or cadmium paint. So, they should just be for looking at now, not drinking out of. When Steve learns this, in about 2010, you know the face he's gonna make at Eddie. Hands on hips. 😒
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Written for week 1 of the @steddiemicrofic blog's third anniversary challenge.
Rated: T
Prompt: three, 333 words
Tags: Gay bar; bisexual Steve; awkward flirting
“I don't get it,” Steve mutters, fiddling with his empty beer. There's a girl standing at the bar. Curly hair, dark nail polish, skinny jeans hugging a cute little ass. Too bad she won't be into him. “Why is the club called Three Dollar Bill?”
Robin sighs. “Because three dollar bills don't exist.”
Steve scoffs. Hot curly-haired chick throws back her head and laughs at something her date said. A tiny strawberry blonde with a tooth gap.
“So? Queer people do exist.”
Robin honks. “I love you. Get us another drink?”
He probably shouldn't. But she's finally starting to loosen up, so he goes.
He places their order, then hops on a bar stool. He's just in time to see the strawberry blonde girl slide into the seat beside Robin.
“Thank Christ,” says a voice by his ear. A deep, rumbly one. “Chrissy has been ogling your friend all night. It's her first time, so she's a little nervous.”
Steve turns. Hot curly-haired chick grins back at him, eyes twinkling with mirth. Except that voice was decidedly un-female just now, and shit, he's an idiot.
“Eddie,” says hot, curly-haired dude. “Saw you checking me out.”
“Steve,” Steve croaks. “Sorry, I thought you were a girl. I'm not …”
Eddie watches him gesture at the bar, and something about his smile turns sad.
“Got it. You're the straight chaperone, huh?”
Steve cringes. “Yeah. No. I'm not completely against the idea, I've just never- … What I'm trying to say is that I'm not a full three dollar bill. More of a two-and-a-half.”
Eddie has been listening to his ramble with a confused frown, but now his face lights up.
“Well, big boy,” he purrs. “I wouldn't mind adding my fifty cents, if you catch my drift.”
“Don’t you mean your two-” Steve starts. Eddie winks. “Oh. I mean … yeah? I'd like that?”
Eddie's smile goes large and dimpled. Steve leaves the club with three fresh hickeys and a number tucked into his pocket.
'THREE' wc: 333 | rated: T | cw: N/A | Tags: Pre-Relationship, Chest Hair, Nipples, Lust, Inspection, but not in the BDSM or medical way, Eddie's not a doctor anyway he doesn't know if he's right
Steve needs Eddie's opinion to settle an argument.
“Oh my God Steve,” Robin sighs. A years long exasperation permeates the air. “It’s not, you’re normal.”
Steve crosses his arms over his bare, hairy chest—Eddie forgets to listen as his tits get squished. He’s been with enough men to have preferences—unfortunately Steve tends to embody them all.
“It is! And it’s weird enough,” he argues, letting his arms drop. He’s too busy to notice that Eddie’s two seconds away from howling like a dog. “You’ve never even looked.”
“Yeah well—” Robin says, rolling her eyes. “Excuse me. I don’t want to get all personal with your—your nudity!”
Eddie bites at the insides of his cheeks. Their arguments are usually pretty entertaining—this one’s the best, because Steve took off his shirt to prove a point that Eddie can’t see.
“Then you don’t have a leg to stand on,” Steve says, like it’s final. “Eddie—”
Eddie’s head whips up from where he was squinting.
“Settle this,” he says, coming closer. Steve gestures at his chest like his tits are vowels on The Wheel of Fortune—Eddie desperately tries to conceal that he feels like a crazy horndog.
“Okay?” he asks, pulling up years of DMing experience to keep his composure; Steve’s tits are a hidden enemy, or a boon the party has to discover on their own.
“How many nipples do I have?” Steve asks. Eddie opens his mouth to say clearly there’s two, but—
This warrants scrutiny. He leans in closer—Steve smells good, like always. He looks whole and healthy and strong—Eddie’s mouth literally waters as Steve helpfully points to what could be a mole.
Eddie considers it, trying for objectivity.
“Could be a nipple, could be a freckle. Lemme test it,” he says, holding up his fingers. Steve doesn’t stop him, so he lightly pinches one of his regular nipples and gets fully hard when Steve sucks in a quiet gasp. He quickly moves onto the third one, lightly pinching that too. “Feel anything?”
“Feels normal,” he frowns, disappointed. “I don’t have three?”
