#steddiemicrofic december

[fastcardotmp3]

fluke

for @steddiemicrofic December 2023 prompt: PINE | words: 508 | rated: G | established relationship; no CW (I wrote fluff, are you proud of me?)

They come into the land by a total and complete fluke.

An empty Tennessee plot that hasn't seen use in decades, it's got a shed of a cabin built by Eddie's great grandfather, likely no modern plumbing, and it's perfect.

A perfect fucking fluke that the Munson family is fractured in enough ways that Eddie and Wayne are the only direct decedents around to inherit the land and all of its endless potential.

Or so Steve calls it.

“I mean, look! A balcony,” he jogs out a handful of yards across the snow-dusted plot of land, spreads his arms wide like he can see it, “right here-- a table and chairs-- a spot to look out at the view.”

The view is also a fluke. A gorgeous overlook of the Blue Ridge Mountains sort of fluke.

“It could even be two-story with stairs,” he gestures upward, such a skip in his step and a flush to his cheeks that Eddie can't help but think that he's a perfect sort of fluke too, Steve Harrington, “that lead right up to a second balcony right outside the bedroom. Yeah?”

He's beaming, positively glowing, and Eddie is mostly just stunned when he nods in agreement. Arms crossed tight to hold in the warmth of his coat and the hair not tucked into his knit cap whipping across his face in the wind, he nods.

Next month, Eddie will turn thirty years old even though he was supposed to die at nineteen, and Steve Harrington's face is going soft with something like understanding as he plans out the blueprints for the house they'll grow old in.

High up in the mountains. So far from the holes in the ground that once tried to drag them to hell.

“C'mere,” Steve strides back over to him, some of the broad exuberance leaving his step but none of the joy as he grapples for Eddie's hand and drags him to the other side of the plot, “okay, so from about here--” he gestures to where they stand, “to over by those trees, there's space for a guest house, don't you think?”

“A guest house?” Eddie looks at Steve questioningly.

“For Wayne. Now that he's finally retiring.”

Eddie may be the creative force when it comes to words and sound between them, but it's in moments like this that Steve proves the kind of vision he has. He can stand here on a nearly empty plot of land, a cabin so neglected the windows are boarded up and the porch rotted through, and still he sees a life.

A future. A family. Not just a fantasy but their prize, if they choose to take it.

“Hardwood floors. Pine,” Steve says, grin only growing as Eddie gapes at him in awe, takes his face between gloved palms, “oak furniture-- I'll build it myself.”

Eddie exhales, fog of breath dancing across Steve's crooked nose. “You really would, wouldn't you?”

Steve grins and kisses him soundly in the place that will become their home.

What a remarkable little fluke.

[stevesjockstrap]

Drumsticks Are Not Pine

@steddiemicrofic prompt: pine | word count: 508

rated: T | tags: modernish au, and they were roommates 😬 | ao3 link

When he’d seen his new roommate with the drum setup, he’d internally groaned. He’d assumed it would be loud and obnoxious. (He’d assumed the same about his new roommate.)

Weeks later, he’d found the assumption of the drum kit was wrong. Eddie explained it was an electronic drum set, so it didn’t make much noise. He wasn’t a drummer, but he wrote most of the songs and liked messing around with beats.

Steve was infatuated with the drum. And his new roommate. Slowly, he’d migrated closer and closer when he’d hear the tap-tap-taps of the pads, standing in the hall, propped himself in the doorway, then invited inside and sitting in Eddie’s desk chair. He had a fancy computer that recorded his beats on the drum and hooked up to his electric guitar and bass. Steve felt so entirely out of his league with all of this stuff, and with Eddie himself.

His original assumption of Eddie was confirmed, yet it worked for him. The guy never stopped moving or making noise. But he was always so goddamn genuine and charismatic about it.

He felt drawn to him, their conversations could last hours, ping ponging from one topic to another and back. He liked watching him play his guitar but he loved watching him play the drums. He was always itching to give it a try, mostly because Eddie made it look so effortless and so fun.

Today, something must’ve shown on his face or with his fidgety hands because Eddie finally looked over, “You wanna give her a whirl, Harrington?”

He froze, but then he was nodding. Eddie grinned at him and he knew he had been found out.

“I-I don’t- What do I do?” Steve stood and surreptitiously wiped his clammy hands on his jeans.

“Just get over here, man,” Eddie laughed.

He got him settled on the small seat and handed him the sticks.

“Just go crazy. It’s not nearly as fun as a real one, sorry. Maybe I’ll take you over to Gareth’s and you can get a real taste.”

Steve swallowed. Keep it together, perv.

He focused back on all the different pads in front of him but didn’t know what to do.

“Here, can I?” Eddie sidled up behind him, pressing into Steve’s back. Then he wrapped his hands around Steve’s and started a slow beat on the rubber pad.

“Keep it going. You got it, big boy.”

Steve gasped at the name and as Eddie squeezed himself closer to move his foot onto the floor peddle. “That’s your bass, so keep this steady, like your heart beat.”

“Uhhh, okay.” That might not work out for him right now.

“The rest is whatever you want.”

Steve stared up at him, glad he’d stayed pressed close behind him. “Whatever I want?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, so quietly.

“What if I want something else?”

Eddie's hand settled on his jaw, tipping his chin up further. They stared at each other for a moment before Eddie finally slid their lips together.

The drumsticks hit the floor.

a/n: please excuse any musical instrument inaccuracies, this is very loosely based on a band dude I know from college and it’s been [redacted] years since then 🖤

[wormdebut]

STEDDIE MICROFIC DECEMBER - ‘CAN I HAVE THIS DANCE?’

@steddiemicrofic | PROMPT: Pine | WORD COUNT: 508 | Rated: T | CW: angst with an ambiguously happy ending

——

“Steve. Could you just give the whole pining thing a rest? I’m literally getting fucking married.” Robin whines. You know what? That’s fair—it was her wedding day. Today was her fucking day.

Steve wasn’t going to ruin it by pining. There was no pine, alright?

It was fine that Chrissy’s best friend was also walking her down the aisle. Steve would walk with Robin and then Eddie would walk with Chrissy. There was no pining.

Steve shook his head, determined to snap himself out of it.

“Robs, there’s no pining. Okay? It’s—Eddie and I are long over. It’ll be fine. You know I’m over the moon for you guys. I couldn’t be happier for you both. Eddie isn’t even a prob—“

Robin tsks, clicking her tongue behind her teeth. “Yeah, Stevie. Sure. That’s why you’re ‘Robin rambling.’ No pining. Got it?”

Steve smiled. It was fake and they both knew it.

There was no thinking about his estranged ex—that he still loved, with everything he had—there was no thinking about that.

Everything was going to be fine.

——

The wedding went well, because of course it did. Nancy Wheeler was a hell of a wedding planner. Chrissy and Robin looked gorgeous and Steve and Eddie—Eddie wasn’t looking at Steve the whole time, and Steve sure as hell wasn’t looking at Eddie.

He wasn’t.

——

Steve had finally found some time to sit down. He had found some space to breathe, but not for long. Eddie waltzed his way up to the lone table.

“Dance with me.” Eddie says, his eyes were shining and Steve was tired.

“No thank you.” Steve answers.

“You can either dance with me or tell me you love me. Your choice.” Eddie says, and he’s smirking. The beautiful bastard.

Steve’s lips form a thin line. “Well—“ he starts, “—I’m not dancing with you, Eddie. So—“

Eddie laughs. “So you love me, then. That’s what you’re saying?”

Steve shakes his head. Yes. “No, Eddie. That’s not what I’m saying, but I’m not—we aren’t gonna make a scene at our respective best friend’s wedding. They don’t deserve that and you know it.”

Eddie looks at Steve. It feels like he’s looking straight through him. The smile he flashes is fake, hollow. “Thats not a no, Steve.”

Steve just stares at Eddie, daring him to say something else.

Eddie just shakes his head, grabbing something from his pocket and sliding it toward Steve.

It’s a fucking hotel key.

Steve scoffs. “Eddie. What the fuck is this?”

Eddie just smiles. “Don’t be stupid, baby. When you figure out why you aren’t willing to dance with me? Well, now you know where to find me.”

——

Later, after everything, Steve finds himself knocking on the door of a room at the Doubletree Inn.

Eddie answers fast. His eyes are wide, but he schools his impression quickly. “Did you decide you wanna dance, baby?”

Steve looks at him, really looks. There was never a choice. It was always going to be Eddie Munson.

“No.” Steve breathes. “It’s the other thing.”

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Microfic

December prompt: pine

Word count: 508

No warnings apply

Rated T

@steddiemicrofic

Steve has a problem.

It’s not a major problem, not really. It’s not Vecna again. Not even close.

It’s Eddie.

After the gates closed for the final time, Steve and Eddie had gotten along in a way that had far surpassed Dustin’s expectations, and then some.

For the past five months, Steve has been overjoyed to call Eddie his boyfriend.

A boyfriend who hasn’t stepped foot in Steve’s house since November changed into December and he broke the Christmas decorations out.

Steve had been over to Eddie’s multiple times, which isn’t a problem, per se, but, well…

Steve and Eddie are both healthy young men with certain needs that arise occasionally. And they can’t do anything half the time because Wayne’s home, and none of them want that.

And of course, Steve could always go home and do it himself, but it’s not the same. He’s not touched his boyfriend below the belt in over ten days and he thinks he’s going through withdrawal.

“You’re not going through withdrawal, you’re horny and pining,” Robin says flatly. Steve squawks at her.

He keeps trying to figure it out, is the thing. He wonders if Eddie is secretly a grinch, but no, his boyfriend loves Christmas more than he does.

Maybe it’s the rich-person decorations, but that’s never stopped Eddie from coming over before. And besides, Steve had explained that none of the decorations were his, but his parents’, and just what he had, and Eddie had seemed to understand. He’d come over no problem… before Steve put up the decorations.

It has to be something, he knows, so he goes home and looks around. Wreath on the front door, Christmas tree in the living room, garland on the stairs, lights in the kitchen… it’s nothing that Eddie doesn’t have too—besides the garland on the stairs—but he can’t see Eddie getting upset about that. Certainly not enough to where he’d refuse to come over.

Steve finally, reluctantly realizes Robin’s right. He needs to talk to Eddie, so he drives over before he has the chance to lose his nerve. “Eddie?”

“Stevie!” Eddie brightens almost comically and pulls him inside before kissing him. “Hey, baby.” He pulls back and must see something on Steve’s face because suddenly he looks worried. “What’s wrong?”

Steve worries his lip and blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Eddie’s face drops. “Sweetheart, no, what- what’s happening? What’re you thinking?” He leads Steve over to the couch and sits with him.

Steve shrugs miserably. “I’m being stupid,” he mutters.

“Honey,” Eddie says seriously, “you’re not stupid. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“You won’t come over.” Steve looks down at their intertwined hands. “Ever since I put up Christmas decorations. You came over once, cut it short, and haven’t come over again. So I must’ve done something.”

“Oh, babylove,” Eddie sighs. “No, you didn’t do anything. I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you. I don’t know why I haven’t yet.” He looks down, then back up. “I’m allergic to pine, baby. And you have a real tree.”

[skepsiss]

Before the Fire - Steddie Microfic

Getting my microfic in right under the wire...! @steddiemicrofic This month's prompt was pine, and I decided to do something a little "pre-steddie" inspired. Aka, they're not together-together yet, so not only is the practical word "pine" used here, but Eddie is also pining.

Page break/border by @/alderdoodle.bsky.social on Bluesky.

Length: 508 | Rating: G | CW: Suggested danger for a younger party member

"Watch this," Eddie said quietly, his tone almost conspiratorial as he waggled a pine cone at Steve and then wedged it into the fire pit. 

Steve looked exhausted as he wiped his hand over his face and watched. It didn't look like he had the patience for this right now, but he was entertaining Eddie anyway.

Eddie flicked his lighter on and had to try a couple of times before the pine cone started to burn in a brilliant green flame.

"Where'd you learn that?" Steve asked as Eddie sat down beside him.

"You don't run a five-year campaign and not learn a couple useful things."

"DnD? Really?" Steve asked rhetorically, sounding exasperated. 

Silence drew out between them as Steve watched the fire and Eddie watched Steve. It was chilly tonight and they both seen better days as Eddie took in the layer of grime on Steve's clothes and his hands. 

"We'll find him," Eddie said quietly, tentatively reaching out and squeezing Steve's knee. 

Steve just nodded and Eddie frowned before dropping his hand and staring at the fire as well. Steve was more than a little crestfallen; Eddie understood why, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try and cheer Steve up a bit.

"You ever camp as a kid?" Eddie asked out of nowhere. He folded onto his thighs, and he put his hands out toward the fire to warm them.

"No…" Steve answered unenthusiastically.

"Me neither. Unless you count sleeping out of a car with your old man." 

Eddie felt Steve glance at him, and he tried not to bristle; he had shared for a reason, and he hoped his sob-story was enough to distract Steve for the moment.

"It wasn't like he taught me any survival shit… well, he taught me that you can keep from getting hypothermia if you light a tea candle and put it on your car dash while you sleep."

"Is that true?" Steve asked, sounding vaguely interested.

"I don't fucking know," Eddie laughed, lulling his head and smiling at Steve. "I'm still alive, despite everything." 

Steve huffed a small laugh at that; Eddie was glad his dark humour had cheered Steve up.

"He's just a kid… he shouldn't be by himself," Steve said after a beat.

Eddie pursed his lips and looked back at the fire, feeling his own gut twist with worry.

"You were the same age… when all this started, weren't you?" He asked, trying not to sound accusatory. 

Steve's silence answered his question, and Eddie sat back up, not wanting to shame him.

"He's durable… had some great examples to follow. If I can survive this shit, I'm sure he's okay," Eddie encouraged, not certain if he believed it himself. 

"Yeah…" Steve answered back quietly. 

Eddie stilled as he felt Steve tip his head onto his shoulder, his hair brushing his cheek. He didn't say anything, but Eddie felt a warmth rush through his body at the contact. Steve was seeking out comfort and Eddie attempted to breathe even so he didn't break the spell.

[loveinhawkins]

passing period

ao3 written for @steddiemicrofic May 2024 prompt, “top,” 510 words. Rated G, Missing Scene, post season 1, cw: brief mentions of nausea & vomiting.

The sleepless nights catch up with Steve eventually. He doesn’t know what pushes him over the edge exactly—whether it’s the brightness of the hallway, or even the movement of his bag, the strap rubbing against the bare skin of his shoulder—just knows that he’s tilting suddenly, mid-step.

Before he can slam against the lockers, he feels a hand around his forearm, a quiet, “Bathroom?”

Steve nods through clenched teeth.

He flings his bag off just in time as he’s steered into a stall—promptly throws up into the toilet.

It’s over in what feels like a blink; more time must’ve passed though, because the usual chatter in between classes has faded away.

Over the flush of the toilet, Steve hears a voice outside the stall, “You contagious, Harrington?”

Steve rubs one eye. “No,” he says curtly.

“Darn. Was hoping for a ticket outta class.”

Steve opens the door to find Eddie Munson leaning by the sinks. He’s got Steve’s bag slung over his shoulder, safe from the clinging damp of the tiles.

“Dude, you’re gonna be so late.”

Eddie checks his watch lazily. “Nah, I like a dramatic entrance. Always fun watching the light leave O’Donnell’s eyes.”

“Doesn’t she, like, take marks off for shit like that?” Steve says passively, washing his hands—it just seems like the kind of thing to ask, especially since most seniors have been hurrying around all December, faces pinched with stress.

Evidently not Eddie Munson.

“Yeah, don’t think that’d make a difference,” he says, and maybe the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Not exactly top of the class.”

Steve shrugs in vague acknowledgement. Briefly presses his palms to his eyes, blessedly cool from the water—doesn’t really think anything of it until he drops his hands, sees Eddie just looking at him, a slight crease to his forehead.

Steve feels far too drained to even try and figure out whatever he’s noticed.

“You okay?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve doesn’t know what to do with the question, too bare in its sincerity; there’s no expected space for him to make a quip back, to play it off.

“Just tired,” he says, “that’s all.”

“Mm-hmm, that’ll kill ya in the end,” Eddie says, sing-song.

Freak, Steve thinks mildly.

“Hey, uh, who d’you have right now, Harrington?”

Steve has to think about it, his timetable hazy.

“Um… Mundy.”

Eddie makes a face. “My condolences.”

As Steve dries his hands, he hears the rustle of paper, a quick pen scrawl.

“Here,” Eddie says.

Steve turns. Eddie’s holding out his bag to him; Steve takes it, before being handed something else: a hall pass bearing a convincing copy of Mundy’s signature.

“In case anyone gives you shit. Folks are still kinda, y’know,” Eddie wiggles his hand back and forth, “since the whole Will Byers thing.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I know.” He folds the hall pass. “Um, thanks. How much—?”

But Eddie waves him off. “Nah, that’s your free sample.” He opens the bathroom door, glances back with parting words: “And I’d take full advantage, Harrington. Go home and sleep.”

[slavicviking]

Yellow

@steddiemicrofic December prompt: pine | wc: 508 | G | cw: none | tags: misunderstandings, pre-Steddie

“Looking good, Nance. Did you do something with your hair?” Nancy did not. She knew for a fact her curls looked worse for wear thanks to the raging wind outside. Steve knew that, too – had to, with his in-depth knowledge of maintaining hair, curls or not. Eddie stiffens next to her. “I’m here to return this,” Nancy pulls out a Breakfast Club tape from her bag with a forced smile. “Great movie choice,” Steve trudges on with otherwise admirable perseverance. The ugly green Family Video creases inelegantly as he leans forward. “I think it sucks,” Eddie jumps in. He grins but Nancy knows him well enough to tell how tense he really is. And isn’t that a wild thought in itself? Nancy would never expect to get along so well with Eddie Munson and yet here he was, dare she say it - her best friend at the moment. Steve lets out a nervous laugh, red dotting his cheeks as his hand ventures out to rub his neck. Robin’s bright eyes keep darting back and forth between two boys, an unreadable look on her face. “This is getting ridiculous,” Nancy says once she slips into the driver seat of her car. Eddie joins her on the other side, uncharacteristically quiet. Her eyebrows drop lower. “He’ll get over it soon. You’ll see.” “I don’t know, Wheeler. He seems pretty dedicated.” The thing is, Nancy’s observant. She pays attention to her close circle of friends, and that includes Steve. Something about this isn’t adding up – the compliments, the showering with attention. And it’s not only because she’s usually left with a morose Eddie, unfairly pining away, in the aftermath. It’s been going on for weeks now. Something’s got to give, eventually, she’s sure. It does, a week later, when Steve Harrington knocks on the Wheelers’ front door in the middle of the day, clad in an ironed shirt and beige khakis. “Here,” he hands her a bouquet of yellow roses. “They’re for you.” She makes a point of not taking them. They hang awkwardly between them until Steve drops his hand with a grimace. “We’re not getting back together,” Nancy tells him bluntly. Steve’s a good guy, he is, but he can be a bit obtuse sometimes. To her surprise, Steve doesn’t deter her. Instead, he blinks. “What?” “It’s sweet that you’re trying,” she tries. “But we wouldn’t work out. We just wouldn’t.” He blinks again. “I don’t-uh. This is awkward.” Understatement if she’s ever seen one. “I don’t want to date you, Nancy,” Steve finally says. He winces before adding. “No offense.” “Then what’s with this?” she points to the flowers. “The compliments? All of it?” He sighs. “I know we didn’t really end on good terms. And your opinion matters to him- I mean, he's just so-” “Him?” Nancy questions before realization dawns on her. “Eddie?” “Wait, does he think I – shit!” Steve’s eyes grow wide as he shoves the flowers into Nancy’s chest and backs out towards the car. “Shit! Sorry, Nance. Gotta go!”

Yellow Roses are the symbol of friendship <3

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

The trouble with cones

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, December 2023 edition

Prompt: pine, 508 words

Rated: M

CW: Explicit language

Tags: Coffee shop owner Steve; Tattoo studio owner Eddie; Flirting; Teasing; Sexual Tension

(Everything goes under the cut bc Eddie jumps right to the important question.)

“Is that a butt plug?”

Steve pinches his nose and heaves a long-suffering sigh. Tries to steel himself for the sight awaiting him. Turns and realizes he failed.

Eddie is leaning in the door of his tattoo studio, mouth curled into a cocky grin. Sleeves rolled up, like the cold doesn't bother him at all, revealing lean forearms covered in ink. Snowflakes gathering in his hair, stark white against the dark curls.

“Fucking hilarious,” Steve rolls his eyes, just barely remembers to cap his window marker before he tugs his freezing hands into his armpits. “Don't you have better things to do?”

“Well…” Eddie's eyes crinkle. “I'm not the one drawing a butt plug on my window.”

“It's a pine cone!” Steve sputters, face lighting up like a furnace. It stings in the frosty air. “Jesus fuck- it's supposed to look festive, why would I draw a butt plug?”

Eddie watches him gesture at the cursed creation he has spent the last thirty minutes slaving over with an expression full of fond indulgence. When Steve signed the contract for his quaint little coffee shop, he wondered why there were no other bidders for the place …

“See, I wondered, but who am I to kink shame you?”

He is beginning to suspect the reason now.

“It is a pine cone,” he insists lamely. “It even has the- what d'you call them? The little nub thingies!”

Eddie quirks a brow. Steve turns and looks at his work.

“Oh fuck,” he groans.

Eddie pulls some hair in front of his mouth, but his shoulders are shaking treacherously. Steve thinks he dies, just a little.

“Here, lemme help.”

Eddie's hands are warm as he steals the marker from his stiff fingers. He whips his bandana from his back pocket to wipe the embarrassing evidence of Steve's total lack of artistic talent off the window, and then-

Then he works his magic. Steve watches him bounce to and fro before the glass like a manic blur of creative energy, brow furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out from between plush lips.

When he steps away, Steve doesn't say anything for a second. Too mesmerized by the image Eddie has thrown together with those quick, efficient strokes of his wrist. A steaming mug of coffee, surrounded by a cluster of artfully scattered pine cones, baubles and twinkling lights dangling above.

“Thanks,” he finally manages to croak. “It's… That really wasn't-”

And then Eddie grabs his arm and pushes back the sleeve of his sweater and he forgets what words are.

“Did you…” he squawks when he finally remembers. “Did you just write on my arm with window marker?”

“Yup,” Eddie says proudly, tugging the marker into Steve’s back pocket. “So that you know where to find me. In case you ever need my assistance with any conical objects again.”

He winks, and then he's skipping into his studio. Steve stays outside and stares at the numbers on his arm for a long time. The snow falls around him, but suddenly he isn't cold anymore.

Part 2

[puppy-steve]

it takes a village

@steddiemicrofic prompt: rest | wc: 387 | cw: teenage parenthood (steve is 16, eddie is 17)

i've been wanting to write my teen dads au for so long and never had any solid ideas for it, but here's something for it finally! i'm not sure if this baby is emma or not, or if i want to make an oc specifically for this verse

wayne hears it before he's even out of the truck, and if he can hear it, then so can the rest of the trailer park, so he has to do something quick before he's got angry neighbors on his doorstep at seven in the morning.

forest hills is no stranger to babies, but everyone has their limits. wayne opens the front door with a wince as he's greeted with the ear piercing wails of his granddaughter. eddie and steve look like they're not fairing any better—steve is leaning on the counter with his head in his arms while a frazzled eddie desperately tries to calm his daughter's cries, pacing back and forth in the kitchen and patting her back, a burp rag thrown over his bare shoulder.

"she's been crying for hours, uncle wayne," eddie says, his voice cracking like he's gonna start crying at any second. "we've tried everything but we can't get her to stop."

steve lifts his head and looks just as desperate as eddie. "she's gonna cry herself sick but nothing's working."

wayne knows that it's killing them. they've made a fuss over every tiny noise this girl has made since bringing her home from the hospital a month ago, like all new parents do. but to be a new parent when you're only teenagers yourself? they deserve a little grace.

november is chilly and the december cold is right around the corner. wayne starts the bmw and lets it warm up as he gently takes the baby from eddie and puts her in her coat.

steve and eddie hover as he does this. understandable, since she's still squalling.

wayne sighs. "you boys need to rest, you look like you're gonna drop any second."

"but you just got off work-"

"no buts, son," wayne tells steve with a hand on his shoulder and a reassuring smile. "lord knows it takes a village. get some sleep."

eddie manages to convince him and after they both press kisses to their daughter's head, they slink back to their room to sleep for who knows how long.

wayne gets the baby in her car seat and pulls out of the drive, the music on a low volume. he huffs a laugh when the crying stops and she's asleep not even half a mile down the road.

taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero

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[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie microfic: I got you

Steve loves it when Eddie rubs his chest.

Written for the December @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘pine,’ 508 words. Originally inspired by the ‘pining’ idea, then it evolved and some extra pine turned up elsewhere!

Rating: T. CW: A couple of sexual references. Tags: shameless hurt/comfort, sickfic, fluff.

***

Their first winter, Eddie got sick. Then Steve got sicker. He took to their bed with a cough that scoured his lungs, rattled his ribs. When Eddie arrived, Steve buried his damp face in the pillow. “I’m all gross. G-go away.”

“Sorry, Babe.” Eddie rolled Steve over, fingers skittering soothingly across his brow. “Kinda guilty here. You scored my germs.”

“Always g-got chest infections as a kid.” Steve shivered. “Ask my m-mom.”

“She won’t talk to me, remember?”

“Ugh. Why are my f-family shitheads?” The pang of irritation proved too much. Steve’s next breath jammed in his lungs. A coughing fit consumed him. Eddie helped him sit, rubbed his back till the worst passed. Then Eddie removed his rings—huh?—pulled the covers over them, and spooned Steve from behind.

His warm hand slid under Steve’s t-shirt. He rubbed Steve’s chest, so gently Steve hardly noticed at first.

“I gotcha, Sweetheart. I gothcha.”

Steve’s shuddering breaths fell in sync with Eddie’s caresses, beneath which painfully taut sinews softened. Steve’s chest still burned, his breaths wheezy, but… 

…Eddie’s touch got him, somewhere so deep it almost choked him again.

It became a regular thing, in sickness and health. Eddie’s guitar-string callused strokes across Steve’s chest—sometimes firm, sometimes soft—set Steve sighing, groaning, purring like a cat. He even adored the cool slide of Eddie’s rings, especially when they snagged in his hair.

One day, afterward, he littered Eddie’s agile fingers with kisses. “Wanna marry your hands.”

Eddie quirked a brow: “You got a mighty fine chest, Babe.”

Steve grinned, sent his own hands south on a far dirtier mission.

Next winter, Eddie scored a touring gig with a band who’d lost their guitarist. Steve missed him like crazy, ignored that tell-tale tickle in his throat, and went to work—peddling hotdogs in the snow. Eddie called daily around 3am, always losing track of time. Steve mainlined cough medicine and pretended so hard:

“I don’t miss your mess, man. I cleaned the shit out of this place—totally reeks of Pine-Sol.”

“Haha. Miss you too, Stevie.”

“Riiight. If you blow the drummer, I’ll repave the drive with your vinyl collection.”

Steve got sicker. The pine stench of the stupid polish caught on his chest. He coughed himself raw. That night, Eddie didn’t call.

Or, Steve didn’t hear.

When he woke, he tried to sit. Flopped back down. He was shivering, out of water, and coughed till tears streaked his face and blood spattered his hand. Scared now... He drifted, never quite sleeping, coughing less, instead struggling to drag whistling breaths. His bones ached. His head ached worse. Freakin’ terrified…

A gentle touch revived him: “Babe?”

He blinked. Eddie? 

“You didn’t answer last night. Caught the first flight home.” Seriously? “Do I need to take you to ER?”

“No,” wheezed Steve.

“Don’t be macho, dude.”

“Need c-cuddle.” That ‘not macho’ enough, Honeypie? 

Steve was too sick for decisions, so let Eddie make them. Much later, when Eddie slid into bed behind him and rested a warm hand on his chest, he knew he was mending already.

***

Thank you for reading :) Also posted on my AO3 here

[hotluncheddie]

angel

(i bring u the usual girl dinner chubby steve but this time in steve POV - for the festive goblin season :3c)

for the December @steddiemicrofic prompt 'pine' !

wc: 508 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: chubby steve, pre relationship, mutual pining

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

The big, old, ugly porcelain faced angel is almost in the perfect spot atop the tree, if only the box he’s on was a little taller. Steve reaches his arms higher, feels his shirt ride up but he almost has it. Just has to stretch a little further.

Finally getting the angel in place, Steve grunts as the breath he was holding is released. ‘Perfect’ he pants. 

He expects some fan fare, or at least to distract Eddie enough from his light detangling to earn some kind of reaction. But bellow him is silent. 

Steve looks down and Eddie is sitting motionless, hands wrapped in Christmas lights, which look more tangled than when he started.

Eddie’s staring, but not at his face. Steve glances down at himself, noticing that his shirt is still hiked up from stretching. A sliver of his belly exposed, sitting new and soft and prominent above the waistband of his jeans. 

His cheeks warm, ‘ah.’ He readjusts himself, tuning away from Eddie to step down onto the floor. 

See, Steve knows he’s gained weight, because he had to get these jeans in a bigger size. 

But, thing is, he likes it, makes him feel sturdy, more himself. His legs are thicker but feel strong, same as his arms, his chest. A little voice in his brain likes saying that maybe he feels more protected, his body more of a shield. 

Plus, he thinks his ass looks great.

But, just because he likes it, doesn’t mean Eddie wants to see all that. Steve pulls at his shirt again, touches his hair. 

‘Uh, what d’you think?’ he asks, trying to break the tension. Eddie’s still staring, mouth slightly open. 

‘Looks really good.’ Eddie says, voice rough and serious considering it’s about an ugly angel Robin found at Good Will. Steve huffs. 

‘I mean it.’ Eddie stands and looks right at Steve. ‘Looks really really good.’ Steve watches Eddie swallow thickly and reach to place a gentle hand on Steve’s thicker waist. 

Oh. 

Steve’s heart rate increases, he stifles a grin. Steps closer, tentative. But relishes in the blush that blooms over Eddie’s features, the way his eyes widen. ‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah.’ Eddie whispers. 

Steve’s stomach brushes up against Eddie’s flat one and he almost misses the little squeak Eddie lets out. 

Steve moves his hand up slow, notes the flutter of Eddie’s eyelashes. He pulls a pine needle from Eddie’s curls, flattening the displaced wisps back down. 

‘That’s better.’ Steve murmurs, holding the bit of green up for Eddie to see. 

Eddie glances at it, looks back at Steve. Eddie’s eyes dip down to Steve’s mouth. Steve swallows, leans in a little further. Feels Eddie’s breath fan over his face, Eddie’s other hand on his hip.

Steve lets the needle fall and cups Eddie’s neck. Fingers brushing the soft skin of his nape, thumb stroking lightly along his jaw. Eddie’s pupils are blown wide. 

‘Boo! Gross!’ Robin heckles from the doorway. 

Eddie’s head whips around. ‘Shut. Up.’ He hisses and Steve laughs, big and real and happy.

[steddieas-shegoes]

pine avenue

for @steddiemicrofic december prompt 'pine' wc: 508 rated: t cw: mention of minor background character's deaths tags: light angst, happy ending, teacher steve, future fic (barely), eddie is so in love with steve he buys him a whole house

🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡🏡

The house on Pine Avenue was the only place Steve ever felt happy. His grandparents made sure he felt loved, and cared for, and special, unlike anything he ever felt when he was home.

It wasn't big, but the yard was. He was never really allowed to play outside at home unless it was in the pool, where he couldn't get dirty. But here, his Grampy let him run in the grass before he mowed it, pick the wildflowers so he could bring a bouquet inside to his Grammy to make her smile, play in the puddles that collected in the gravel driveway after an afternoon storm.

He got to sit out on the porch and help his Grammy peel potatoes for a soup that she always made two pots of, one for them and one for the soup kitchen in town.

His parents were gone for the summer, and he was too young to stay alone for more than a week at a time, so he got to be a kid with them.

It was the best part of his childhood.

His Grampy died right before Christmas when he was 11. His parents were stoic, somehow distant from something that hurt Steve like a bullet wound to the chest. They traveled all the way to Pine Avenue for his funeral, his insistence in being buried in the woods of their property the only reason they bothered to make the trip.

On Steve's 13th birthday, his Grammy died. She'd been sick for nearly a year and hadn't told anyone, didn't want anyone to take her from her home, from the love of her life buried in the dirt nearly a half a mile from the house.

The house on Pine Avenue went up for sale, his parents not wanting to deal with upkeep or renters.

Steve's only reminder of his time there was the family album his Grammy kept on the bookcase in the living room full of their times together every summer.

When Steve is 23, he graduates from college with a teaching degree and quickly finds that he doesn't want to stay in Hawkins.

Eddie just smiles and agrees, like he'd been waiting for Steve to come to the conclusion himself.

They search high and low for teaching jobs in the city, try not to be too upset when the only ones available are the lowest paying ones.

Then Steve sees a listing for the house on Pine Avenue.

Tears fall as he realizes that the previous owners never touched it, barely even lived in it. It was the same as it was when he was little.

Eddie sees it circled later that night.

He finds a job listing for a gym teacher in the area only a few days later.

Eddie takes a risk, uses up every cent of his savings to put an offer on the house. Knows this is important.

Steve moves into the house on Pine Avenue with the love of his life when he's 24, and he feels happier than ever.

[vecnuthy]

new

Late entry for @steddiemicrofic December prompt: pine, and for @steddieholidaydrabbles December 31 prompt: New Year's Eve/Resolution | wc: 508 | G | pre-steddie |

Eddie looked around him and took a deep breath.

Another year had come and gone, and he'd made it.

There in the woods, scattered around a fire among the people that mattered the most to Eddie, it really hit him. All at once. That warmth in his chest, the sting behind his eyes, the pull of the corners of his mouth. He was relieved - happy, he thought, gripping his beer can too tightly. The pop made him jump, which made Jeff jump and yelp beside him.

"Scared the shit out of me, man!"

Eddie laughed.

Jeff nodded toward the cabin's porch where Eddie saw Robin and Steve making sloppy light designs with sparklers, wiping tears from their eyes because they were laughing so hard.

"I never would've thought that he was such a...." Jeff stopped, getting caught on the right word.

"Lame dork with a heart of gold?" Eddie supplied.

Jeff's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, sure. Robin had it right: he's a dingus. He just genuinely doesn't care, does he?"

Eddie shook his head, eyes glued to the Steve and Robin goofing around. He caught Steve's eye and they smiled at each other.

"You know," Jeff's voice softer. "I know somebody else who doesn't care," he said with a nudge.

Eddie's smile lingered a little longer, then faded as he cast his eyes down and played with the tab on his can. "I care."

"I know," Jeff conceded, understanding, then grinned to himself when he saw Steve look over at Eddie again. Robin disappeared inside the cabin. "New year, new possibilities. You should get a sparkler. You're starting to give this tree over here a run for its money."

Eddie snapped his head up, confused. "What?"

"Pine. It's a pine tree, and you're pining. You know, identify theft is not a jo-"

"Jesus Christ, stop," Eddie shoved him with a laugh. "Fine."

Nineteen steps brought him to the porch, under the glow of the strung Christmas lights and a grinning Steve, who said. "Hi."

"Hi," Eddie breathed out.

The sparklers had made the air smokey, filling it with color from the shining Christmas lights. Red, yellow, green, and blue bloomed and swirled in the smoke, bathing Steve in color and light, and Eddie lost every train of thought he'd ever had.

"Can I use your light?" Steve asked after a few moments, his face kind.

"Yeah," Eddie said after a beat, patting his pockets, then reached up behind Steve's ear, conjuring up the lighter.

Steve's eyes went wide, and he barked a laugh. "Did you just do a magic trick?"

Eddie blushed hard. "No," he lied. Why would he do that? "Why would I do that?"

Steve laughed, bright and colorful in a way that had nothing to do with the lights. "I'm not complaining. I already thought you were magic, but...." Steve shrugged with a smile that Eddie couldn't help but mirror, Christmas lights dancing in their eyes. "...proof."

For Eddie, 1987 started within a cloud of color-soaked smoke, with a boy that would become his. Soon.

[ithinkicouldloveher]

beyond the pines | december @steddiemicrofic 🥀

prompt: pine | wc: 508 | rated: m | cw: human/monster romance; implied parental abuse

Steve loves the forest. Could get lost in it for days.

It’s home to many living things. Red squirrels and spotted deer, great horned owls and sneaky foxes.

Bluebells, violets. Large spruces and spiky firs.

But his favorite are the pines, a dense cluster at the base of a mountain. His spine tingles at the scent.

It's sharp; potent.

Heady.

Can never not think of him, when he gets a whiff.

Steve exhales, cold breath swirling before him. He reaches a hand out, icy from the walk, from refusing to wear gloves, and runs gentle fingers over its grooves.

He likes the way the cold bites. Likes to experience the forest, to connect with the natural world around him, likes to scrape docile skin on weathered rocks.

He likes to reach down into dark waters, let it run between his fingers as he takes a gentle sip.

He could live off of what it has to offer him.

What he has to offer him.

Steve hoists the duffel up his shoulder, continues into the pines.

He brings a finger up to his cheek, hissing between his teeth when it stings.

A fresh cut, courtesy of Richard Harrington’s class ring.

He approaches a lone, grand tree, aged and evergreen.

Briefly, Steve hesitates. He’s never stayed longer than a few nights.

Nevertheless he grabs a rock, cuts his palm. Droplets of red bead at the surface and he turns his hand, letting it stain white snow.

Like clockwork, a shadow looms behind him.

Unspeaking and unmoving, it watches Steve curiously.

He turns to face the wild-haired creature, this god of a monster made of ivory stone and onyx ink.

He’s naked, like always.

Steve watches the monster's pale tongue swipe across his bottom lip, nostrils flaring, midnight eyes zeroing in on Steve’s gored hand.

Black, feathery wings stretch wide behind him.

“Eddie,” he greets, sounding out the name he’d affectionally given the creature only two winters ago. “I missed you.”

Eddie grins wide, all sharp white teeth and blood red lips.

He gathers Steve in one swoop, carries him easily to the den beyond the pines, nestled in the mountain.

Steve drops his bag. “I need to stay a while,” he says, unbuckling his belt, stepping out of his jeans as he warms up by the fire. “That okay?”

Eddie eyes him, humored. He saunters over to Steve and drapes himself across his body.

Steve feels the monster’s ridged length press against the small of his back, hot and erect.

He smirks, cheekily pressing back.

Eddie purrs, tightening his grip and rolling his hips into Steve.

“Only if you have something for me in return,” he taunts lowly, sharp claws scraping lightly at Steve’s skin, making goosebumps rise.

“Oh?” Steve murmurs, lilting his voice as Eddie's hand hovers over his plumping cock. “What do you want?”

Eddie's other hand snakes up to grip Steve’s chin. “Don't be foolish,” he snarls quietly. “You know what I desire.”

Steve leans back, baring his throat to the monster.

“So take it,” he whispers.

[a-little-unsteddie]

sleepless nights

written for @steddiemicrofic’s december prompt, pine. not sure if it makes sense at all, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i think it does and i like it.

wc: 508 || prompt: pine || rating: g || tags: semi-nonverbal!steve, insomniac!steve, pre-steddie

—

Ever since July, Steve often found himself unable to sleep. It wasn’t every night, but it was definitely more of them than he’d ever care to admit. He would lay in bed, staring at the unchanging popcorn ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep, to close his eyes and let sweet unconsciousness take him.

Those nights, it didn’t matter how much Steve wanted it, sleep eluded him. So, instead of laying there uselessly, he would get up and pull on some clothes, grab his bat, and head outside. To the forest.

Mostly, he didn’t pay attention to where he was going, Steve would just wander the woods. He lost himself, most of the time. Zone out, listening to the sounds of the woods around him, letting it soothe the anxiety that more monsters lurked around the pines.

This was one of those sleepless nights.

He couldn’t remember how long he’d been walking, but the moon was high and bright in the sky, casting the forest in a dim light. The steady crunching of the leaves beneath his feet helped him focus on nothing at all, instead letting his attention wander.

“Harrington?”

The sudden voice startled Steve badly enough he prepared to swing at the intruder before logic caught up and he was able to stop himself.

“Woah, woah, woah!” the voice continued in a panicked tone, which Steve thought was understandable, given he was definitely about to swing his nail-studded bat at him.

A figure came into focus in front of him, first the wild hair, then the Hellfire shirt, and Steve knew exactly who had found him.

“Munson.”

“Whatcha got there, buddy?” Eddie asked, voice concerned. Steve blinked slowly and glanced at the bat.

“…a bat.” he explained uselessly.

Eddie hummed, all high-pitched and whiny, “Yeah, bud? What for?”

Steve pondered this for a moment, “..monsters..” he settled on.

Eddie didn’t look relieved at that answer, and held out a hand, “Why don’t I take that from you, sweetheart?”

Steve blinked, looked at the bat, still poised for a swing, and slowly lowered it into Eddie’s hands. The metalhead immediately looked more relaxed, but still concerned about Steve.

“Let’s get you somewhere…not here,” he said, gently trying to coax Steve with him. Unable to really fight back, and not really wanting to, Steve followed his lead.

“What..” he tried speaking, but his voice got stuck in his throat. Eddie looked at him curiously, so he tried again. “Why…in the woods?”

“Nothing important,” Eddie assured, “at least, not more important than getting you out of here.”

“Like your voice,” Steve mumbled, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that had been hidden behind the fear, the unending anxiety that something was still out here.

“Do you?” Eddie asked, effectively distracting Steve from his thoughts. “Luckily for you, I do too.” he said jokingly, before starting to talk about anything that came to his mind. He talked about his band, the nerd club the kids were also in, his uncle, anything to keep Steve distracted.

At least until they got to his trailer.

[aidaronan]

Krampusnacht? More Like Krampus-Rocked

For @steddiemicrofic December's prompt: pine. 508 Words || Explicit || Tag it Monsterfucker Steve, BDSM, Spanking It was December, and there was a monster in Steve's bedroom.

Not a demogorgon, not a demoanything.

Something else. Something with cloven hooves and horns. Something that smirked with sharp teeth when Steve relaxed enough to talk, to—shit—to flirt.

He—Eddie apparently—hadn't come for Steve. He'd intended to visit Steve's parents, but some wires had gotten crossed in the magical lines of the universe. So Eddie didn't know Steve's parents had been gone for years, that at that point, Steve was basically acting as caretaker for their future retirement home.

"Is that pine?" Steve asked, staring at the long, wispy rod in Eddie's clawed hand.

"Birch." Eddie thwacked it gently into his opposite palm and then smirked. "Would you like to feel it?"

Something about the look in Eddie's eyes and his low tone of voice went right to Steve's cock. It was fucked up, wasn't it? To start flirting with an intruder, especially when that intruder was…

"Like, hold it?" Steve asked, voice weak as he stared at the apex of Eddie's furry thighs, at the thin scrap of rags he wore there and the obvious tent beneath.

"Or…" Eddie licked his teeth and offered an outstretched hand. "Other things."

Like snow, Steve found himself gently falling, bending over the side of his bed. Eddie's claws skimmed his hips as he worked Steve's shorts down.

The first blow was gentle, just enough to feel the impact. More surprise than pain. The second stung a little, like a sunburn just on the edge of a tan.

The third though—that one had Steve moaning, grinding his cock into the side of his mattress.

"Fuck," Eddie said, voice reverent. "Look at you. Dying for it already."

"Guessing this isn't how these things usually go," Steve panted, hips still circling, canting.

"Never even once. Another?"

"Please."

Eddie hit him again. All told, they got in six poetic licks before Steve needed more. Eddie let him peel the rags off, a thick pink-brown cock hiding underneath, pre-come beading at the tip.

Starving for it, Steve dragged his tongue through the deep slit, palming himself at the low growl it pulled out of Eddie.

"That's enough," Eddie said.

"What?"

"Oh I want you to, don't get me wrong. But I want to fuck it into your pert little ass even more."

Steve's exhale stuttered out of his throat. "Okay."

It was its own kind of torture, Eddie eating him out and fingering him until he could actually fit inside. It was worth it for the stretch of fullness, for the way each thrust hit true.

It was worth it, too, for Eddie's claws raking his skin. For each slap on already-tender flesh as they groaned like two animals instead of one.

They finished seconds apart, Eddie filling him with so much come that it overflowed, dripping off his balls.

After, they lay panting side-by-side, fingers intertwined.

"That was…" Steve turned his head. "You could come back, you know… if… if you…?"

Eddie smiled, teeth sharp and shiny. "Sweet Stevie baby, I'll move in tomorrow."