Ahoy!

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.

"Hey," Eddie says, greeting Steve as he holds open the back exit to the theater. Steve looks annoyed, but Eddie's learned that's kind of just his face. 

Steve nods, and once again, Eddie feels like an annoyance. Steve Harrington never asked to be saddled with Eddie as a friend, it just sort of happened to him against his will. 

"Don't make a mess for Robin to clean up," Steve warns, and Eddie nods. He knows the drill. 

"You aren't staying? You weren't a He-Man guy? I dug Skeletor more myself." 

"Weren't you like eighteen when that came out?" Steve asks, brow furrowed, like he's questioning Eddie's sanity. Again.

"I mean, I'm not too good for some cartoons," Eddie says, but feels foolish. Of course Steve Harrington wasn't watching cartoons. He was already fighting monsters in 1983.

Eddie just has fond memories of Saturday Morning cartoons with Uncle Wayne, and if he still watched cartoons, Saturday Morning or otherwise, so fucking be it. He's already a freak. What's a little more weird added to the pile?

"Whatever floats your boat. I'm not staying. Robin is," Steve says, "I've got a date." 

"Lucky girl," Eddie says, and Steve just nods, looking away. Like he's just going through the motions as they walk to the front of the theater. It's pretty much deserted.

Gareth is soon haggling with Robin over the price of popcorn, as if they didn't already get a steep discount on their weekend entertainment. 

Eddie watches as Steve exits the theater, studies him crossing the parking lot, and keeps staring as he tosses his uniform shirt into the back seat of his car. 

When he jogs over and opens the passenger door of some pickup, climbing in, Eddie takes notice. Interesting that Steve's the one getting picked up by his girl—

—the pickup passes by the front of the theater, and, well, that's not a girl. 

Eddie swallows. 

Steve's on a date with a dude. A dude that's not Eddie, because Eddie didn't know asking out Steve was an option. 

"Eddie, you coming or what?" Goodie yells, and Eddie turns to look. They're all waiting on him. Popcorn and drinks in hand.

Eddie hurries over, like he hadn't been spying on Steve.

Jeff hands him his drink, and they make their way to the theater, where Eddie slumps into his red, probably not velvet, seat.

Eddie couldn't tell you anything that happened in that movie. He thinks it was bad. At least, he felt bad during the whole thing, that's for certain. All he could see was Steve Harrington riding off with some guy to do god knows what. 

The jealousy burns, and Eddie feels ashamed that he feels the way he does. Steve deserves to be happy, with anybody he wants. Just because he'll date a guy, it doesn't mean he'd want to date Eddie. 

So, Eddie knows he's just gonna have to get over this one. Take it on the chin, accept the loss. Whatever.

It's harder than he thought to let this go. So, he avoids Steve. He puts his head down, working, taking extra shifts. He doesn't think Steve's noticed he's fallen off the face of the earth until he comes home late one night, and Steve's sitting in front of his apartment door.

"You're avoiding me," Steve says, and Eddie doesn't deny it. He is avoiding Steve.

"Just been busy," Eddie says, sliding his key into the lock, as Steve stands. Arms crossed against his chest, looking defensive.

"Sure," Steve says, and it's biting. Sarcastic.

Eddie turns, glancing back his way, "A man can't be busy?"

"Sure, but I think you just think a man can't date another man," Steve snaps. Defiant. Mad. He's mad at Eddie, clearly.

"Did I say that?" Eddie asks, the sarcasm rolling off his tongue, "Be a bit against my own best interests, but okay. Sure. Think what you want, Harrington."

There's no comeback. No bitchy, biting retort. Steve's just staring at him with those big eyes.

"What?"

"You want to date men?" Steve asks, voice low. 

"Fucking duh," Eddie answers, "you seriously didn't know that? It's not a secret."

Steve hangs his head, hands clenched at his sides.

"I didn't know," Steve finally says, quietly.

"Now you do. We done here?" Eddie asks, turning to head into his apartment, but Steve is right there.

"No, we're not, dickhead," Steve says, snapping at him, pressing himself to Eddie's back, hands squeezing Eddie's hips, before spinning him, making him face Steve.

Eddie's head is pounding, blood rushing, face flush.

Are we really gonna? Eddie thinks, just before Steve's lips touch his.

Oh. They definitely are.

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! 🦇

She brings over a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, setting it down right on the colorful metal surface. The sandwich is only a little burnt, and is cut into four little squares, with cheese oozing out.

He's happy to see both of them. Steve is running a tight ship on who gets to help take care of him. Hell, Gareth only got clearance a couple weeks ago. So two more new faces is nice. He thinks that must mean he's doing better. 

That, or Henderson just annoyed the fuck out of Steve until he relented.

"Thank you for sharing your toys with me, m'lady," Eddie says, picking up the spoon Dustin had brought him. It's harder than he'd like it to be. It still shimmies in his hand, shaking as he tries to guide towards the bowl of what he assumes is Campbell's tomato soup.

He grips his wrist with his other hand, his better hand, and tries to steady it. He could just try to learn to eat with his left hand, but he wants to play guitar again, so his fucking right hand has to cooperate. That's just how it's gonna be.

It's gotta learn how to work again.

Eddie would be embarrassed, but he's been poked and prodded, and seen at his weakest ever since the bats gnawed the shit out of him. This is nothing in comparison. Showing a little weakness to two kids that love him, for some insane reason, is barely a blimp of embarrassment.

Nothing like Wayne and Steve bathing him after bringing him home from the hospital. That had to be the last true embarrassment he had. Steve Harrington carefully wrestling him onto a bath chair, and then holding him steady in the tub while Wayne scrubbed his back was just the final straw of privacy. Even if Steve had laid a wet washrag over his crotch. Like that was gonna make it all better, and more normal.

It certainly was not.

Steve clucking about Eddie's wounds, still not healed, even after being released from the hospital. Bandages were changed. Creams and lotions applied. Medications carefully administered.

A watchful eye that hardly ever left his sight. 

It was weird, until it wasn't. Now, Steve's just part of his daily routine. And Steve can bathe him all by himself, trusting that Eddie will be able to hold onto the chair while Steve scrubs and rinses his hair.

Tomorrow is bath day again, and Eddie knows he's getting a little ripe. All the deodorant in the world just won't cover it up. Not totally.

Maybe soon he'll graduate to standing in the shower all by himself, but that day just isn't here. Not quite yet.

Today, he eats while Henderson and Erica argue just to hear their heads rattle.

"You little shits had better have taken good care of him," Steve snaps, breezing into the room, dropping his jacket on Eddie's desk. Well, in theory it's Eddie's desk. He's never sat there, not for a minute. It's Steve domain right now. Hell. Most of the room is Steve's domain.

In the early days, while Wayne was working overnights, Steve would lay out a sleeping bag on the floor, staying close, for when Eddie was bound to wake up from the nightmares. These days, he's graduated to his own bedroom. Mostly. 

This house has three of them, and it didn't take long for Eddie to realize Steve had just moved on in.

"Jeez, way to have faith in us," Dustin whines, and Steve ruffles his hair, pulling him close.

"Lunch was edible?" Steve inquires. 

Erica has her hands on her hips, and Eddie is absolutely certain there's only one answer to that question:

"Fantastic. Erica made pie," Eddie says, and she nods, as if he's passed the test she was administering. 

Steve nods, and sits on the edge of Eddie's bed, hand curling around Eddie's blanket-covered shin, squeezing.

It's nothing. And everything.

There's been no moves made. But Eddie feels like maybe there might be whenever Eddie's back on his feet again.

It's a good motivation to keep getting stronger. 

"I rented some movies—"

"—yes!" Dustin interrupts.

Steve ignores him.

"Adult movies."

"Ew," Dustin adds, and Steve is clearly getting frustrated, waving his hands.

"Jesus. Not like that. Just not for children," he clarifies, and Eddie tries to bite back his smile, just letting Steve continue to dig this hole for himself.

Steve sighs.

"I brought your own tapes. Take them and go," Steve finally says, defeated. He always gives into them, and honestly, Eddie loves that he does. They're good kids.

"You're not gonna give us a ride?" Henderson whines. Eddie knows how this ends. Of course Steve's gonna shuttle them around.

Steve looks at Eddie, tilting his head, then squeezes his leg once more, before grabbing his jacket, herding the two kids away, towards his car.

"I'll be right here awaiting your imminent return!" Eddie shouts.

Eddie starts to ease a third finger inside, his knuckle catching. He's slicked up good, but Steve still whines, and it's honestly a sound Eddie adores. The sound of him wanting. Needing. 

"Too much?" Eddie asks.

"Not enough," Steve bemoans, and Eddie grins. That's his bossy, bitchy boy. Steve's always got complaints, and Eddie's always all ears. He wants to string him along, making him shudder and shiver with how much he's feeling.

It's powerful.

And Eddie never felt powerful a day in his life until he ran headlong into Steve Harrington's open, loving arms.

Steve takes a deep breath, relaxing further into the sheets, and Eddie slides home. Three fingers, buried deep.

"Uh," Steve huffs out as Eddie slowly works them inside him. Moving in short, deep thrusts. Flexing his hand, just a little. Enough to brush Steve's prostate with his thick knuckles. 

Steve whines, toes curling.

Eddie wants to keep him like this indefinitely. His orgasm, just out of reach. Straddling the precipice, ready to fall if Eddie would just do something more.

"Full," Steve says, cheek resting on the pillow. His hair in his eyes. It's gotten long, and when he's like this, it never keeps its shape. It's always hanging limp. Damp with sweat. It was fascinating to see the first time. Like Steve was removing his persona. 

Eddie never got the whole Clark Kent glasses thing until he saw Steve Harrington with damp, floppy hair. Whole different person. 

A softer version, most definitely.

Eddie uses his free hand to stroke Steve's lower back. Gentle fingers against soft hair, and Steve sighs. Closing his eyes.

Moving his fingers with more purpose, Eddie watches as Steve winds back up. Getting closer to the edge one more time.

Eddie lets him. 

Then, backs off again.

Steve's breathing is shallow, face flushed, but he looks peaceful. 

Eddie reaches up and brushes his hair out of his eyes, and Steve smiles.

On the stage of The Hideout, Eddie struts around feeling confident. Sure, it's no arena. It's not even a big crowd. It's a handful of drunks that definitely aren't metal in the slightest. Still, they sound good, for them, and when the gig is over he's loading up stuff in the back of his van.

"You looked good," comes the familiar voice, and Eddie turns, smile already split across his face. He hadn't even seen that Steve was there tonight. Usually he's too busy to come out and play these days. He wants to be a teacher, like an absolute lunatic.

"We sounded good," Eddie corrects, reaching for Steve.

Steve laughs, warm hands sliding against Eddie's bare skin as he hugs him back, "No. You looked good."

"Ouch," Eddie answers, kneejerk, before he realizes what Steve's actually saying. Maybe. Maybe not. 

He doesn't know. Things have always been kinda weird between them, like if one of them would just take a single step forward that maybe everything might change. 

So far, nobody's made that move.

Unless.

Unless Steve is making it right now.

Eddie pulls back from the hug, offering Steve a smirk, showing off a dimple, "So, I looked good, did I?"

Steve's hands are still clutched against Eddie's lower back, but he glances away, down at his feet, smiling. 

And okay. Yeah. 

Steve pushes his hand up under Eddie's shirt, under the cropped fabric, and glides curious fingertips all along Eddie's scars. Steve has his own, of course, but Eddie got it worse. From the bats. From the town.

But right now? Right now he thinks maybe he's won after all.

Because there's kissing. So much kissing.

Eddie's never had a hook-up like this. Not that he's had all that many, but still. This is new. Steve's fingers grazing his skin, like he's trying to map every part of him. Carefully. Thoroughly.

Eddie doesn't mind. Because it's Steve. And Steve knows exactly how he got all these scars. Steve knows what Eddie went through, what they all went through.

Nimble fingers unbutton Eddie's jeans, hands pushing them down Eddie's thighs, and then Eddie's shoved back onto the mattress with a bounce.

Steve giggles, and unfastens his own jeans, wiggling them down his hips, before crawling on the bed, covering Eddie's body with his own. As if he's too desperate for them to get fully undressed. 

Eddie has no complaints about that.

Steve licks his own palm, and wraps his fist around both of them, grinding his cock up against Eddie as he works his hips. Eddie grips both of Steve's shoulders, and it's all he can do to hold on for the ride.

"Good?" Steve whispers, hot breath against Eddie's ear, and Eddie nods.

"Real good," Eddie answers, and relishes the feeling of Steve's cock rubbing against his own, Steve's firm grip guiding the way. It's a little too dry, and a little more friction than Eddie prefers, but it's Steve.

Of course it feels good.

Eddie has wanted this since they were knee-deep in Vecna's bullshit and he'd realized Steve Harrington is not at all a bad dude to be around.

Steve's still jerking them off, hips working, thrusting against Eddie.

Eddie moans, and Steve sucks in a breath, then comes all over his hand, Eddie's cock, Eddie's stomach. The slip has now changed, and Eddie lets himself chase after Steve. His own orgasm hitting him like a bolt of lightning.

Steve giggles, resting his head in the crook of Eddie's neck, his weight a welcome sensation.

Eddie blinks his eyes, trying to adjust to being awake. Steve Harrington. The first thought is he was dreaming, but he knows better. Steve Harrington came home with him last night after their Hideout gig. 

"Hey," Steve says, right on cue, and Eddie turns.

Steve's standing in the doorway to Eddie's room, two mugs of coffee in hand. But more importantly, he's wearing one of Eddie's failed crop tops, the one Eddie deemed too short.

But on Steve, it looks amazing. All that dark hair covering his stomach, his scars, sleeveless to show off his arms. Which are far more defined than Eddie's.

Eddie swallows.

This shirt wasn't right for him, but it is right for Steve. Boy howdy, is it ever.

"Hey," Eddie says back, sitting up, holding out his hands for the mug, and the soft smile Steve gives him makes his stomach flip. 

And Eddie's ready. Beyond ready.

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! 🦇