#steddiemicroficfebruary

[eddie4bat-president]

Hands. Who knew?

@steddiemicrofic written for the prompt: "edge" | rating: G | wc: 509 | cw: none

It catches him off-guard when it happens. Eddie has never really thought too much about hands. Sure, he likes how his own hands look covered in silver and he knows the effect dramatically steepled hands can have when prompting a party of adventurers on their next move in the face of danger. He's also had a girl here or there look a little too long at his hands from the edge of what the Hideout counts as a stage while he had been shredding his heart out; comparing their hand sizes afterwards in a move that always worked on him more for its boldness than the hand thing itself. His hands are just... part of him. An important part, for sure, they're what he uses to write and draw and play guitar until his fingers bleed but also a part he has never consciously wasted a thought on.

So he isn't ready for the way it makes him feel to have Steve push the palms of their hands together to compare while still talking about... something. Basketball, maybe. Something about holding balls? In the back of his mind there is a voice telling Eddie to make a joke but he can't make the thoughts connect. Eddie's hands aren't small by any means but Steve's are bigger. His fingers longer. They're peeking out from behind Eddie's. Thicker too. His whole palm wider. Radiating heat.

And while Eddie is still grappling with that view and the thoughts that follow, Steve continues to manipulate his hand whichever way strikes his fancy. Looking at his rings, tapping them one by one in a rhythm that makes sense only to him. Following the last one with his own finger while turning the whole hand so the palm faces upwards. He starts tracing the lines there - softly, so softly - following the outline of Eddie's fingers with the edge of his fingernail. Had Eddie's hands always been this sensitive? The threat of a shiver begins building at the back of his neck. Steve starts paying special attention to the calluses at Eddie's fingertips, tapping his own fingertips against them.

Eddie only becomes aware that Steve had fallen silent when he starts speaking again, "You know... I used to be good at this... knowing if someone was into me." Tap tap tap. A self-deprecating laugh, "or not into me, that's been happening a lot..."

A few more soft taps, like he's steeling himself for something, a determined look on his face though his gaze remains locked on their hands.

"But with you, I... I don't know. I can't imagine, like, platonically holding my buddy's hand. But everything you do is so out of the ordinary to me. Maybe you do?" Everything seems far away except for the heat of Steve's hands on his and his words echoing in Eddie's head.

"...Fuck it." Steve wraps his fingers under Eddie's, his thumb on top and makes devastating world-shattering eye contact while he presses the softest kiss onto Eddie's knuckles.

"Are you? Into me? Because I'm so very into you."

[wormdebut]

FEBRUARY MICROFIC - EDDIE IS KINDA…

@steddiemicrofic | PROMPT: edge | WORD COUNT: 509 | Rated: T | CW: internalized homophobia, anxious Steve

——

Here they are again, Eddie on one side of the couch, Steve on the other. Steve isn’t even sure why he’s currently hanging off the edge of his own couch like a fucking weirdo, but he and Eddie stay on their sides.

Which—doesn’t make any sense to him, because he and Tommy would share space and blankets and body heat in the winter and—it was normal. Right?

At least—he thought it was normal—but maybe this was normal, and Steve simply didn’t know any better.

——

Turns out staring at your best guy friend longingly from the edge of your parents stupid ass, hoity-toity sofa is ‘not normal behavior Steve, that’s pretty fucking gay.’

Steve is currently pacing the length of his kitchen, trying to process his stupid dumb conversation with stupid dumb Robin.

He couldn’t be gay—right? That is so—that would be so—Women, you know? But also—Eddie. Eddie is kinda—no! But…yes?

“Fuck!” Steve yells.This is so stupid. Why is this all so fucking confusing?

“Um—Stevie? You alright over there?” Eddie’s voice rings through the kitchen and he tenses.

“Hi, Eddie.” Steve intones, it’s flat. “You know what? I’m not okay. I feel like I’m going insane because I can’t stop thinking about you. Which—don’t get me wrong there are certainly worse people that I could be thinking about—“

“Gee, thanks Stevie.” Eddie offers. Steve keeps rambling—explaining his scattered thoughts to a very red faced Eddie.

“And then Robin said that clearly that means that I’m gay or bi-something—which—I’m not—cause that would be—“

Eddie breathes in with a sharp inhale. “That would be—what, Steve?”

“Well—that would be—“

“That would be.” Eddie quips as he hops off the counter quickly. “Hey—listen Steve, I’m gonna go, okay?”

“Wait!” Steve pleads, “Why?”

Eddie runs his hands over his face. “Because, Steve, I don’t really want to sit here and listen to the guy I have a big fat crush on, panic about how he may or may not feel the same way!”

Eddie—what? He—what?

“Y-you, like me?” Steve asks and Eddie nods. “Then why do you sit so far away from me on movie nights?”

Eddie laughs, “What? Steve, this whole crisis is because of that?”

“Well—yes?” Steve isn’t sure why that’s what set all this off, but it is. He tells Eddie as much and he laughs, again.

“Stop laughing at me Eddie! I’m trying to explain and—“

Eddie cuts him off, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Steve, baby, I’m not laughing at you.”

Baby. Baby. Baby.

Steve watches as the hand on his shoulder moves, Eddie cups Steve’s cheek and he can’t help but lean into it.

Steve can’t say shit, ‘baby’ still playing on loop in his head.

“I’m laughing because we’re both idiots.” Eddie says, it’s soft, and his stupid eyes are shining. Steve thinks Robin is right.

“Eddie?” Steve breathes. Eddie’s hand is still on his cheek, his thumb running across cheekbone.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Kiss me, please.”

——

Later, Steve and Eddie are on the couch, not a trace of space between them.

Steve couldn’t be happier.

[steddieonbigboy]

Equate

written for @steddiemicrofic february prompt ‘edge’ wc: 509 | rated: G | cw: none other than steve being a sportsball enjoyer

🏀 🏀 🏀

"I just don't get how you can be on the edge of your seat over a sportsball game," Eddie frowned, "It's so boring, how d’you get excited over that shit?"

"Eddie, baby, I love you dearly but that is exactly how I feel about your dungeons and dipshits game."

"You know it's dragons, Stevie." He whined, not even trying to hide the pout on his face.

"Do I?"

Eddie hoped the look he gave Steve was as unimpressed as it felt.

"Okay, fine. Dungeons and Dragons. Happy?"

"Eh," Eddie see-sawed his hand as he scrunched his nose, "With the words, yeah. The tone, though? Not so much."

Steve just stuck his tongue out and turned back to the TV, which Eddie thought was kinda rude of him when his question still went unanswered.

"Anyway. Sportsball, boring. You, excited. How? Why?"

"Jesus, Eddie. It's called a hobby. I know you know what that is."

"Thank you, Steven. I certainly am aware of what a hobby is, in fact I may even partake in them from time to time, but what I don't know, is why this is yours?"

"You really need me to explain why I like watching basketball?"

"Yes!"

"Eddie, my love, my life-"

"Please don't fucking quote ABBA at me right now."

"Eddie, the bane of my existence," He raised an eyebrow at Eddie to check whether he found that more suitable and at Eddie's nod continued as if explaining to a toddler, "I like watching basketball because, and I know this might sound like a wild concept, but because I like playing basketball."

"Steeeeve. Baby, I know you like to play the basketball. I don't agree with you, but I understand that. Accept it even. But why do you want to watch someone else play it when you could just go out and you know, do it yourself?"

"Are you saying you'd rather sit in your room alone playing guitar than go to a concert and see a whole band perform?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"It just is," Eddie crossed his arms and tried to keep from whining, "Totally different."

"No, it's not," Steve poked him as he tried to protest, “Me shooting hoops alone and you playing guitar alone equate to the same thing, right?"

"Equate? You need to stop hanging out with Dustin so much."

"Yeah, probably but not the point. The point is they're the same thing. Both of us, on our own, doing something we enjoy and are some level of skilled at, yeah?"

"Fine," Eddie sniffed haughtily, "They fuckin' equate."

"Glad we've established that," Steve smirked, "So therefore, and yes shut up Dustin is a terrible influence, but that means that basketball games and concerts also equate. We get to watch a group of people with more skill, doing something we enjoy, in a way that we will never experience. So, I like watching basketball for the same reason you like going to concerts. It’ll never be us but at least we can imagine it."

"God, I hate it when you make sense."

[hellfireloserclub]

Fireside

For @steddiemicrofic Feb

Promt: Edge : words 509. Rating : G

They're on the edge of something, have been for months now.

It started with a bottle to his neck and it's brought them here.

Bonfires burn away in the clearing, the changing of the guards passing from Hopper and Murry to them, with knowing looks from the latter.

That something growing between him and Eddie is as clear as day to anyone who cares to look.

Eddie sits close, the demobats skittering in the distance making them both alert to the ever present threat, the creatures rarely attack. It's not time for that, they stand guard of the rift, they watch. They wait.

Beside him Eddie stroked absentmindedly at his stomach, the scars always hurt when the weather turns. In the warmth and protection of the fire burning to ward off strays. The fire keeps them back, keeps them closer to the rift. There's too many to fight now.

The shadows have faces and all of the faces have teeth, chattering. Waiting.

Nobody walks the woods alone.

The scars run deeper than the surface.

This is when Steve finds Eddie in his space the most. Where the Something between them is the most obvious.

Steve reaches out, stilling the hand that irritates old wounds. Fingers twisting together as his eyes scan the perimeters, the bits the warmth of the fire doesn't reach. Skin warmed metal stills between the knuckles as Eddie squeezes once, twice, three times.

He's okay, he's fine, nothing to fear.

But Steve knows, deep in his bones, that the upside down wants Eddie back. Feels the way the demo creatures follow his scent on the air, chance there luck more often when Eddie is out on patrol.

They want back what Steve took from them.

But they can't have it.

Not now.

A shadow moves, grotesque petal shaped head sniffing at the air, its face turns towards Eddie. They both still as it rears, but it doesn't charge; it just opens its mouth as if tasting the spores that fall gently like decaying snow.

Steve instinctively pulls Eddie behind him, his trusty nail bat ready to swing if he needs to, gas to throw on the fire if that somehow fails.

( it never fails. He's gotten good at hitting them where it hurts and fast ) behind him Eddie's ready with his own lance. They move as one, as they rise from the bench, Eddie pressed as close to Steve as possible.

But the beast doesn't advance, it falls back, back into the shadows, one more curious sniff in the air before it sulks off.

“That's new.” Eddie mutters, eyes darting the lines for the next threat. When nothing moves for a few minutes they relax.

Steve does his checks. Eddie's still here, he's fine. Eddie slumps back into his side and Steve gets a lung full of his own aftershave wafting from Eddie as he finds his hand again.

Eddie smells like him.

Because they're on the edge of Something.

And the upside down doesn't get to have him before Steve finds out what.

[katyawriteswhump]

Lie for me (steddie microfic)

Written for @steddiemicrofic February prompt, ‘Edge.’ Alt canon: Eddie is arrested soon after Chrissy’s murder, and his boyfriend, Steve, takes drastic measures to help him.

WC: 509 CW: None Rating: T

…

“You killed Chrissy Cunningham!” The interrogator slams his fist onto the table. “Say it, Munson.”

“I… I…” Eddie teeters on the brink. He’s endured questions for twelve hours, confessed only the truth. I wasn’t there when the crazy shit started. I ran because…

“You know what happened,” coos the interrogator. “Tell me. This’ll be over.”

Eddie stares at his trembling hands. He’s so tired, sweaty and mixed-up, he almost believes… Did I kill her?

“I… I…”

Officer Powell pokes his head round the door. The interrogator yells, “WHAT?”

“There’s been a development.”

Powell frogmarches Eddie to a cell. Eddie falls forward onto the bunk and silently screams. He’ll never see Steve again, or his friends, and… Goddammit, Chrissy!

He descends into an edgy slumber, reliving those final moments. In his nightmares, he becomes some evil puppet-master, pulling the strings that inflicted her horrible torture.

Voices revive him.

“Listen, son.” Powell uncuffs Steve—Steve!?!—and shoves him into the adjoining cell. “Next time you confess to homicide, check you don’t have an ironclad alibi, providing a taxi service to half-a-dozen kids.” Steve rubs his wrists, blinks as if dazed. “You cool off, while we decide what to charge you with.”

Eddie squeaks: “What the—?”

Seconds later, they’re pressed to the bars that divide their cells, attempting an uncomfortable approximation of a hug. They kiss, and it’s brief, warm, desperate.

“They wouldn’t let me see you!” Steve looks somehow furious, loving, and terrified, his eyes bloodshot. “I was verging on losing it. I couldn’t think what else to do.”

“You confessed to murder?” Eddie rests his forehead against Steve’s. “I love you, you idiot, but you shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you.”

“You don't know that.” Eddie shudders, extracts himself, turns to the shadows. “She… Chrissy… Shiiiiit! Maybe I did—”

“Now who’s the idiot?” Steve catches Eddie’s sleeve and clings. “They tore me apart in ten minutes. Okay, I was lying, but in any long interrogation, those a-holes screw with you, push you to the edge. Make you believe anything.”

Eddie stares at Steve’s wrist, bruised where he’s strained against the cuffs. Oh, baby. Who turns themselves in, then struggles anyhow?

“Don’t let them win!” Steve tremulous anger tricks Eddie into looking up. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

The faith in Steve’s wide eyes proves devastating. Eddie’s lower lip wobbles, as he experiences a wisp of hope.

They settle on the floor, bars between them, shoulders still touching. Steve falls asleep and his soft breathing, the comfort of his nearness, keeps Eddie’s demons at bay.

When Powell reappears, Steve wakes with a cry, tangles his fingers with Eddie’s. Eddie’s heart squeezes painfully. Is this the last time they'll touch?

“Killer struck again—while YOU were here, Munson. You’d got that big city interrogator already convinced of your innocence, so…” Powell opens Eddie’s cell first. “Don’t leave town, boys.”

They’re processed, released, and then they crumple into each other’s arms. “What just happened?”

“I haven’t a clue.” Steve’s steely tone defies the fast, nervy gasps that ruffle Eddie’s hair: “Now you’re coming home with me.”

[mugloversonly]

The Letter

written for ‘edge’ wc: #509 | rated: _G_ | cw: _na_

@steddiemicrofic

The party sat around the Harrington living room and watched Eddie pace back and forth. He was holding an envelope in his hand that he was too scared to open. It would tell him whether he was a success or a failure.

Steve watched his boyfriend for a few moments before stepping into his path and gently holding his shoulders. “Babe, breathe” he demonstrated a few deep breaths. “You’re on the verge of a panic attack.” Eddie followed his instructions until he calmed enough to speak.

“Stevie, this letter makes or breaks my life”. He said as he tried not to hyperventilate.

“Well then, open it!” Dustin yelled followed by a chorus of agreement. Eddie shook his head frantically. “Why the hell not?” Dustin demanded.

“Language, butthead.” Steve replied pointing a finger in his face. “We can’t open it because Wayne’s not here”. That shut everyone up. They knew Wayne had been Eddie’s only source of love, understanding, and support for years. He needed his uncle for this.

Steve forced Eddie to sit down and Erica brought him a glass of water. She was excited but nervous. Unlikely as it seemed, Eddie and Erica bonded like siblings after Vecna. It annoyed Lucas and Dustin to no end.

The girl turned to Eleven, “Can you see how far away Wayne is? Eddie’s about to explode.” She said with her usual sass. El nodded and closed her eyes.

“Two minutes” she said when she found him. All noise faded from the trailer as they heard Wayne’s loud truck. He opened the trailer door exactly two minutes after El spoke and froze. Steve made eye contact.

“The letter” Wayne whispered. His nephew nodded and held it out to him.

“You open it, dad. I can’t” Eddie’s voice and hands shook. Wayne took the letter and glanced around the room. He tore it open and scanned the contents. Without saying anything, he folded it back up and tucked it back inside the envelope. Everyone hung onto the edge of their seats. Wayne took a breath giving nothing away. He moved to his recliner and sat down, grabbing Eddie’s hand on the side without Steve.

“Eds,” he said looking pensive, he put both hands on Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie’s eyes widened as he waited with bated breath. “The first Munson to go college”. He said with a smile, tears in his eyes. Eddie gasped, a huge smile breaking across his face. The party cheered around him.

“God, almost gave me a heart attack old man!” He laughed as he jokingly pushed Wayne away. Wayne’s words finally caught up to him and he froze. “Wait,” he said turning back to his uncle. “I got in?!” He yelled snatching the letter. There at the top Congratulations Mr. Munson. He turned to share a smile with Steve. “I got into college baby!” He screamed as he practically tackled Steve with a searing kiss.

“We’re going to Chicago?” Steve smiled. A face splitting grin spread across Eddie’s face.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed kissing him again. “We are”.

“Can Robin come?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53980570

[steddieas-shegoes]

lost an edge

rated t | 509 words for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'edge' cw: implied sexual content, mildly suggestive language | tags: hockey au, defenseman steve harrington, goalie eddie munson, enemies to lovers (mostly just implied babes this is only 509 words), chirps

⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️

Steve's left skate had felt wrong all night. It wasn't the ice, he'd already asked everyone else if they felt like it was rough and they said no. The equipment manager checked the blade and it was sharp, not loose at all.

Whatever was causing it was a mystery and he'd just have to adapt.

But it was quite possibly the worst night to have to adapt.

The Bruins were facing their toughest competition this season: the Florida Panthers.

It was stupid; They weren't even that good! They just found a way to always get in their heads and-

"Harrington, wake the hell up!" Hagan, his D partner, yelled right before the whistle blew.

The game started rough for all of them. They just got back from a ten day road trip, four wins but two in overtime, and they were all still struggling with jet lag. They just had to get through this game and they'd have four days off, but-

The horn blared and Steve let his head fall where he sat on the bench.

A goal in the first two minutes of the game was embarrassing, especially at home. He was still catching his breath from his shift when his coach tapped him to go back out.

He'd do it because that's what first liners did sometimes, but he wasn't thrilled.

He managed to keep the puck out of their zone for most of the shift, but he was giving 120%. He couldn't do that the entire game.

Plus his skate still felt weird, almost unstable.

Florida scored again right before the end of the first period and Steve tried not to feel defeated this early.

He took his last shift of the period, hopping over the wall to rush towards the blue line.

He felt his ankle shake, then twist, and he was down, sliding across the ice on his knees like a damn amateur. He looked down and saw everything was normal.

"Looks like you lost an edge, sweetheart," the Panthers goalie, Eddie Munson, said right behind him. "Might need to head to the local learn to skate before you play next game."

"Is that where you were earlier?" Steve barked back as he got up and skated back towards the play.

The second period went about the same, and every time he managed to get close to Munson, they chirped each other.

It happened every time they played, chirping turned to banter turned to outright flirting on the ice.

It was worse today because Steve always managed to lose an edge right near Eddie's crease. He caught himself most of the time, but Eddie always noticed.

"You want a private lesson after the game? Might be able to show you a few ways to stay on your feet?" Eddie said after a whistle for a trip.

"On ice or off?" Steve asked.

Eddie stared back at him, mouth open in shock at his comeback.

"Now look who lost an edge."

The Bruins didn't pull off the win that night, but Steve sure did.

[hotluncheddie]

Just what I needed.

for the february @steddiemicrofic prompt 'edge' ! :)

wc: 509 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: time skips, getting together, chubby steve Harrington, eddie munson centric

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first time one of them says it, Eddie had stowed away one of reefer Ricks old flasks in the innards of his jacket. the whisky was stale but, Eddie wasn’t picky.

‘Somethin’ to take the edge off?’ Eddie offered to Steve, the two alone in the RV, time liminal, pre Vecna battle, post nail shield making.

Steve seemed torn between telling him off for being irresponsible and laughing at the whole ridiculous, horrid situation. 

He took a swig, wincing at the taste. Handing the flask back in a way that let their fingers brush. Eddies hands tingled all the way to the upside down.

The second time, it’s Steve. 

Eddie’s in his hospital bed and the nurse sent Steve through with his meds for the night. ‘A little somethin’ to take the edge off, Mr Munson?’ Steve wiggles his eyebrows and holds the little tray like a waiter. Eyes flashing at the shared memory. 

Eddie sniggers, then has to try and cover his wince where the movement pulls his stitches. But Steve notices, helps him sip his water. 

Later, Eddie thinks, actually, it might be the way Steve holds his hand during the shitty PBS horror film they both thought they could handle (they couldn’t), or how Steve steals his jello just because he knows Eddie finds it hilarious, he thinks maybe thats what really makes everything feel just that little bit better. 

So it becomes a habit, after that, for Eddie to use Steve’s touch, Steve’s presence, to help him relax, help the pain ebb, and fade.

On around the sixth time he gets to kiss Steve, finally home from his shift, while Eddie’s been down with pain for most of the day, stretching and meds not doing enough, Eddie feels it again, that Steve effect.

‘Just what I needed’ Eddie sighs against Steve’s lips, squeezing the dough at his hips, pushing Steve further into the couch. 

Steve laughs, breathy, pretty. ‘What?’ He asks. 

‘To take the edge off.’ 

And Steve kisses him. 

‘You’re too high, take the edge off!’ Eddie says, shoving three pizza rolls into Steve’s mouth. 

Steve laughs so hard he snorts, honks, keels over onto the floor with giggles as he chews with his mouth open, eyes closed. 

Eddie looks down at him, giggling himself. 

Steve opens his mouth for more. 

Eddie rolls off the couch on top of him. Feeds Steve snacks one by one, a kiss between each. 

It was a bad day. Work sucked, his body hurts, its past 8 when he’s finally locking the door, locking the world out.  

Steve’s laying on the couch, watching a movie, in an old pair of shorts. 

Perfect. 

Eddie slumps over, stripping down to his boxers. He lays his head between Steve’s thighs, one of Steve’s legs over his hip. Face smushed into the squish right on the inside, nuzzling into the hairs, breathing Steve in. His favourite spot. 

Steve cards his hands through Eddie’s curls. ‘Taking the edge off?’ he asks, and Eddie nods, burrows closer. Relaxes. 

Steve helps. Steve always helps. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

@pearynice <3

[steddiemicrofic]

happy love month, babies, i think you’re pretty! 😍 this month’s prompt is:

edge | 509 words

make ’em edgy, practice edging, push them past the edge or balance on the edge of a knife — as always, feel free to interpret the prompt however you like! submissions should be 3rd person steddie-centric fics with a title, rating, and any relevant content warnings, and the body of your story should be exactly 509 words when you paste it into wordcounter.net

mods will comment a 🥧 emoji to let you know your submission has been verified and added to the queue; once you’ve been verified feel free to add your fic to the february ao3 collection

happy writing!

- wynn 🔪

[marvel-ous-m]

An Embrace at the Edge of the World

WC: 509 | Prompt: Edge | Rating: T | Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort | @steddiemicrofic

Steve’s had his fair share of bad days at work. On a scale of ‘bad’ to ‘fucking awful’, he’d label today a resounding ‘pretty shitty overall’. Robin was out for the week- she was visiting family on the east coast- which left Steve to work with Keith, which actually meant that Steve worked alone while Keith smoked and sorted returns in the stock room. To make matters worse, it was two-for-one Tuesday at Family Video. Steve was faced with a steady stream of customers, which led to crowded aisles and the inevitable knocked-over endcap. On top of all that, he got chewed out by an older woman who was pissed about being denied the ability to rent (she had five overdue rentals, so Steve was literally not allowed to rent to her- it was company policy).

By the time he clocked out, he was ready to curl up in bed and have Eddie read him to sleep.

That didn’t happen, though. Steve got home, trudged up the stairs to his room, expecting that Eddie was already up there and strumming on his guitar (as was routine nowadays). Instead, he opened the door to find Eddie sitting on the edge of the bed, face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, and muffled sobs filled the room.

Steve left his bad day at the door and crossed the room in an instant, taking a seat next to Eddie and wrapping his hands around Eddie’s middle. “Hey, baby. What’s goin’ on?”

Eddie turned, burying his face in Steve’s neck and wrapping his arms around Steve. “’S stupid.”

“No, no sweetheart. It’s not stupid. Not if it’s you.”

Eddie let out a wet-sounding, humorless laugh in response. “I went to the store today and some assholes started harassing me. I should be used to it by now, but… just got to me today.”

Steve leaned back to take Eddie’s face in his hands, inspecting him for any injuries. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Eddie shook his head, his eyes downcast. Steve tilted Eddie’s head up with his hand, smiling reassuringly when Eddie’s wet eyes met his.

“You’re allowed to be upset, Eds. The way that you're treated- most people would leave town the first chance they got if they were faced with even an ounce of the shit that’s thrown at you every single day. You are the strongest man that I know, Eddie Munson. A man that I love more than words.” 

Eddie’s face crumpled, indicative of another round of sobs, and Steve pulled him back into a tight embrace, running a hand through his boyfriend’s curls. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Yeah, Steve had a pretty shitty day. He could put all that aside, though, and be here with Eddie- sit at the edge of his bed, hold his boyfriend close, and remind him how much he was loved. Because in times like these, it’s just the two of them existing in their own little world- and at the end of the day, that’s all they really needed: each other.    

[inner-things]

Dangerous habit

| Written for @steddiemicrofic | edge | 509 | rated: E |

-

It was becoming a habit.

A very dangerous one at that.

Steve knew this, of course. The question was why he kept doing it while pretending to be something he felt in his bones wasn’t right; performing for his parents and his peers by reflecting their expectations back at them; chasing down the rush of empty affection that effortless popularity brought him one party at a time.

He also knew he was being very stupid. Incredibly so.

But here he was, one more time.

Pressed against the back wall of the pool house. His pants were wide open, underwear pushed out of the way, just enough to let his cock out.

That was part of the thrill, right? The possibility of getting caught.

The party was in full swing, his house full of people who could come looking for him at any moment and find them like this.

Find them together.

Because that was the other, most important part of the thrill.

The person pressing against him, was no girl.

First time it happened, Steve was looking for a stronger drink in the kitchen, when he found Munson closing up shop for the night.

“You’re in luck, Harrington” Eddie said, producing a joint from behind his ear. “I’m about to smoke the very last one.”  

“Nah, it’ll make me hornier. I just want to drink away the rest of this party.”

“Sooo, tonight’s conquest left you hanging, my liege? Good to know royalty is just as fallible as the rest of us peasants.”

“Fuck off, Munson!”

“Gladly!” Eddie grabbed his infamous lunchbox and paused beside him on his way out. “Ooor, we can rub one off together after this beauty” he singsonged, carelessly waiving the joint in front of his face. “Believe me when I say, I’ve saved the best for last.”

Steve’s brain stopped working for several seconds and Eddie reacted accordingly.

“What? Don’t tell me King Steve is some kind of a prude.” He mocked, turning to leave by the pool, not waiting for an answer.

Steve wasn’t a prude. He had seen some shit in the locker room, although he never... he never…

Why didn’t he?

Huh.

Just this once, he told himself, when he followed Munson outside that night.

Then, it happened again at the next party. And the next. And the next.

And the polite distance they’d established while getting off together, started to erode every time they jerked off, eyes glued to each other.

Now, the distance between their bodies was nonexistent.

Now, their cocks were flushed against one another. Eddie’s hand moving rapidly around them both.

This, felt real to Steve. Like nothing else had felt before.

He was here, now, dancing on the sharp edge of attraction; loving the rush, dreading the fall.

And tomorrow, tomorrow he would go out, looking for the opposite of rough fingers and sarcastic tongue, finding in Nancy Wheeler a good compromise between other people’s expectations and his wants.

That is, until another sharp edge was pushed against his throat and he’d finally, let himself fall.

-

AO3

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemicrofic February challenge.

So Here Is Us

February Prompt: Edge | Word Count: 509 | Rating: T | CW: Post-Apocalyptic, Pre-Existing Injury | Tags: Canon Divergence Post-S4, Hurt/Comfort, End of the World, Survival, Just the Two of Us, The World is Bleak, But We're Together

Steve's been walking forever. 

He was goddamn certain there was a town nearby, and now he's scared. Scared he's made a mistake. Scared Eddie can't survive him being wrong.

Steve studies landmarks, memorizing his way back to the abandoned building. Back to Eddie. He repeats the directions he's been making up in his head:

Straight towards the burned out car, past the tall tree, turn at mile marker 365…

With no map, he repeats these markers, over and over, making sure he'll be able to find Eddie again, because if he doesn't, they'll both be dead. Eddie from infection; Steve from the insanity of finally being truly alone.

Eddie had looked at him, his expressive brown eyes shining with pain and fever, and begged Steve not to go. Begged Steve not to leave him. Steve hadn't wanted to, had scrubbed his hand over his face, pinching his nose, terrified, and trying not to show it.

But, Eddie can't walk anymore.

So, Steve had to leave him somewhere safe, stashed away from monsters, despite every instinct in his body telling him no, don't because you don't split up. That's rule number one. But, Eddie's got an infected demobat bite on his side, with lines of red shooting upwards, towards his heart. He's balancing on the edge of trouble, real trouble.

Steve's scared to death if he doesn't find antibiotics that Eddie won't survive the next few days. And if Eddie goes…

Eddie can't go, can't leave Steve all alone out here, on the raggedy edge.

Civilization is gone, decimated by Vecna, and yet, somehow they've survived. And Steve needs them to keep surviving. Needs Eddie to keep surviving.

"How will you find me again?" Eddie had asked, sweat dripping down his temples, as he tried to hold back the shiver that wanted to break free.

Steve had held Eddie's overheated face in his dirty hands, and pressed his dry lips to Eddie's, "I'll always find you again."

Now, when Steve finally sees the abandoned small-town pharmacy, he wants to cry. The sign says Steve's Pharmacy, and he wonders if he's dead. If this is a nightmare Vecna's trapped him in. 

No. He doesn't have time for a crisis. Eddie doesn't have time for Steve to have a crisis. The door to the pharmacy is standing wide open, already ransacked. 

But the pull-down gate over the pharmacy hasn't been breached, somehow, and behind the locked metal barrier are shelves full of pill bottles.

Steve digs in his backpack, gets his bolt cutters, and goes to work. It's hard, nearly impossible, and his hands are blistered and throbbing by the time he's made a hole large enough to squeeze through. 

There's a drug reference book on the counter, laid open, abandoned, and Steve reads. Finds the matching bottles, stuffing his backpack full. Taking everything he can carry. 

Taking the book, too. They'll need it again, he's certain.

Back on the abandoned street, he starts repeating as he walks:

Turn at mile marker 365, past the tall tree, towards the burned out car…

Notes: This was set in the same little universe as my fic for the November prompt, Miles to Go, was. Can be read alone, or continued there, if you're so inclined.

Title is from a quote from Serenity: "This job goes south, there well may not be another. So here is us, on the raggedy edge."

Picture is from The Walking Dead. I was like, "I need an abandoned pharmacy, like the one that was in that early ep of The Walking Dead. Maybe I can find a screenshot." I did, and but I definitely did not remember it was called Steve's Pharmacy. Hilarious. That was just a gift from the universe, lol.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[katyawriteswhump]

Eddie and Steve: Monster Hunters (steddiemicrofic/steddielovemonth)

For @steddiemicrofic Feb prompt, ‘edge,’ and @steddielovemonth day 23, Love is giving him your sweater even if it makes you cold. (@stevesbipanic) Thank you <3

Rating: T. WC: 509. CW: None. Tags: established steddie, angst, slight au, slightly fluffy, slightly soft Eddie, slightly silly!

…

Eddie wasn’t sure how he’d gotten separated from Steve. However, there he was—alone, the demo-goat caught between him and the quarry, his Molotov cocktail primed.

“Eat dirt, you evil, bleating little sh—iiiiiiit!”

Suddenly, Steve was there, hot on the goat’s hooves, brandishing a home-made flame-thrower.

Too late. Eddie’s missile already flew. A flash blinded him, echoed by a crackling boom, and a thunderclap in his chest. He rushed, choking, through the smoke. DID I JUST EXPLODE MY BOYFRIEND?

“Steve?”

“Heeeeere!”

Eddie swayed on the quarry precipice, from which Steve dangled, clinging with both hands. And then with one hand. Already on his knees, Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist.

“You trying to kill me?” Black goop smeared Steve’s pale face.

“Didn’t see you, Stevie.”

“I’d got this… Jesus! My shoulder… your rings… Hurts. Oh shit, oh shit, I’m gonna die!”

Sweat beaded Steve’s brow, fingers quivering for grip as he slipped farther. Eddie squeezed tight words from gritted teeth:  “Gimme your other hand.”

It didn’t go like in movies. Steve’s efforts wrenched at Eddie’s faltering hold. Their gazes locked, pulses going apeshit in union.

“Steve, I—"

Steve plummeted into the cool twilight. Eddie’s heart dropped through his boots, falling with his boyfriend, as far as the distant splash.

Eddie stumbled blindly to the shingle shore. He saw only his final image of Steve—Steve’s horror mirroring Eddie’s own, Steve’s too-pretty mouth forming a perfect ‘o’.  Almost like when we kissed, and those times we… The sex no longer mattered. It’d been casual between them till now, when the idea of a future without Steve shredded Eddie’s soul. Worse, poor Steve! Way too young to…

Eddie whipped out a flashlight, legs numb, stomach knotted. Something crawled out of the water. Hopefully, not the demo-goat. Seconds later, he hovered over Steve, who flopped onto his back, arms flung wide.

“Holy shit.” Eddie tugged his hair, hesitating to touch Steve—fearing he’d shattered some illusion.

Steve panted hard, catching his breath. Wet, bedraggled, and incongruously adorable, his flat hair made his eyes seem huge. Then he scowled, attempted to sit. Eddie finally tumbled forward, flung his arms around him.

“You scared the shit outta me.”

“You angling for an apology?” Steve’s voice was trembly as the rest of him. “Diving that far stings like a b-bitch! Did I say I wanted a swim, Munson?”

“Sorry.” He rubbed Steve’s back

“Thought I was a g-gonner. Makes you realize… about… st-stuff.”

Eddie sniffed then pulled off his sweater, shivering himself as he wrapped it around Steve. Steve raised a weary brow. “B-body heat st-still required, Dipshit.”

Eddie enfolded him tight again, then might have sobbed as he helped Steve up. Steve proved too tired to speak, Eddie too choked, till they reached the car. Eddie dialled the heater up, touched Steve’s thigh: “Stevie, there’s something I… uh…”

“I love you, man.” Steve rested his head back, eyes fluttering closed. “Try not to nearly kill me again this week, ’kay?”

“Love you too.” Eddie tenderly stroked dripping hair from Steve’s brow, then scrambled over the gear-lever to get cosy.

[griefabyss69]

Pull

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ] [ Tip / Commissions post ]

‘EDGE’ wc: 509 | rated: T | cw: Weeeeed <3

Here's Eddie's side of The Hole Story (Rated E), there will be 3 more installments <3

There's a new customer at his picnic table and Eddie can't help but wonder about him.

Steve Harrington in all of his glory has Eddie secretly clutching the edge of his seat, white knuckles hidden beneath the picnic table.

There's something to his stride that presses his thighs together right at the last second before he shifts to the other leg, his crotch moving in his tight Levis. Eddie's eyes are stuck there, even as Steve gets close and slides in to sit, his jeans pulling against his thigh as he swings his leg over.

"Hey, you working?" Steve asks with a veneer of confidence that Eddie doesn't bother looking through.

It's a stain that every jock carries; what's underneath is usually pretty fucking dull.

"Yeah, pick your poison," he replies, tapping dramatic fingers over his "lunchbox".

Steve nods, mouth opening in an air-headed drop that sends Eddie's mind wheeling back to thoughts of his dick. His lips look real soft and he can probably take a pounding; one thing Eddie thinks being a jock is good for, even if there's no tackling in basketball.

"Uh, weed. Please.”

Steve licks his lips as his eyes flit over Eddie's face and he feels kind of like baiting him, so he licks his lips right back, taking his time, pressing his tongue into the bottom one. Lingering.

It takes a minute before Steve snaps out of it, blinking heavily as he looks away.

How thrilling.

"Uh-huh, how much do you want?" Eddie asks, licking the edge of his teeth just to fucking see.

"I dunno, whatever you'd smoke in a week?"

Steve seems unsure of himself now, and Eddie knows he likes power but he really shouldn't be into the broken cockiness; still confident in some ways, but he could also be some tragic ingenue in an old movie.

His long eyelashes don't help.

"Way too much for you to handle," he laughs, and opens his stash. "You got twenty bucks on you?"

Steve nods, takes out his wallet. His thumb runs over the edge of it as he considers him.

"I'm not a virgin, you know," he says, and Eddie feels something hot flare down from his head to his toes.

"You're the last person on Earth I'd call chaste, Harrington," Eddie says, fighting against a hard swallow.

Steve really doesn't have to be a virgin to be a convincing boy-next-door type. Not with the guileless look he gives him, the beauty of it sticking to Eddie's mind like glue even when he shifts into a confused sort of understanding.

"With weed, Munson. Not a virgin with weed," he corrects him, huffing.

Annoying Steve is… a little intoxicating; if Eddie’s to continue being honest with himself. So he grins at him and does a game show gesture over his lunchbox even as his mind scrambles to figure out a way to get Steve to blush.

"Don't get cocky," he says, and pulls out a bag of his better stuff, fresh, because he's a fucking sucker.

It's fine as long as Steve doesn’t catch on. Nobody needs to know that there's a limit to his jock tax.

[medusapelagia]

I'll make you proud

written for @steddiemicrofic

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Prompt: Edge TW: no one WC: 509

Steve has trained for this all his life, but when his father gives him the order he hesitates.

The entire throne room is silent when King Harrington declares that they are going into war and that his son will lead the battle.

“You can’t go into battle!” Eddie tries to convince him, yanking him by the arm as soon as they are safely in their room.

“You know I have to, the King gave me an order.” Steve replies, avoiding his husband's stare.

“He doesn’t care if you live or you die!” Eddie protests, his long dark curls around his head like a black halo: he looks so beautiful when he is angry.

A soft coo from the bassinet gets their attention and Eddie runs to pick up the sleepy baby, “If not for me do it for our kid! Don’t leave him an orphan!”

That’s a low blow, Eddie is a war orphan and Steve knows how deeply that affected him, and it breaks his heart knowing that he can’t give him the only thing he ever asked for in all their years of marriage.

Steve kisses the dark crown of his kid’s head and caresses his husband's cheek with his thumb.

“It’s my duty.” Steve replies sternly and Eddie understands that his battle is already lost.

“Will you take care?” He asks, avoiding Steve’s stare.

“I’ll make you proud.” 

“I don’t give a fuck about that!” Eddie yells, turning so abruptly that the baby starts to wail.

Steve moves closer but Eddie turns his back “Don’t. Tomorrow you are not going to be here, why lose your time comforting a kid you are ready to abandon?”

It stings, but Steve doesn’t reply, he gives a little bow and leaves the room he has shared with his husband for years.

Jonathan, their guard, is patrolling outside the room.

“Will you take care of them? For me?”

“Your wish is my command, my lord.” He replies, bowing his head, “But I’m sure you will return victorious in no time.”

Steve smiles at him, glad to spare him from the horror of the war, “Take care of your family too.” He whispers before turning toward the stables where Robin, his squire, is already waiting for him. 

She helps him fasten his armor while she keeps rambling, complaining about the rations she hasn’t even eaten yet  “Nothing like Chrissy’s cooking. I’m sure of it.” 

Steve shakes his head, “You don’t have to come with me.” 

But Robin retorts “Where should I be if not at your side, Steve?”

They look at the soldiers gathered around the stables, most of them are too old or too young to join the war, but the King gave an order.

Steve makes a sincere speech, promising that they will face the enemy together and nobody will be left behind.

When they leave the castle, Steve turns one last time and, even if they are too far, he is sure that the dark figure, looking at them from the edge of the tower, is his husband.

(Should I keep this concept as a plot bunny?)

[lady-lostmind]

Blade

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt 'Edge'

wc: 509 | Rated: M | cw: very mild knife play

on ao3 or under the cut.

Eddie sits in the back of his open van, hands flailing dramatically as he tells Steve about something that happened at work today. He leans back, grabbing his lunch box from behind the seat, and pulls an apple out of it. He sits back up and pulls a knife out of his pocket, wrist flicking to pop it open. 

Steve’s eyes track the movement. He watches Eddie’s hand work as he uses the blade to cut a chunk out of the apple and bring it up to his mouth, the edge of the knife brushing against his lips as he takes a bite. 

He’s still talking. There are words coming out of his mouth between chews. But Steve hears none of it. He’s completely zoned in on Eddie’s movement with the knife. 

Where did that come from? He just…carries a knife on him? All the time? How did Steve not know his boyfriend is walking around with a fucking weapon? 

Steve swallows thickly, spit pooling heavily on his tongue, heart hammering in his chest. 

Why is this so hot? Why is the fact that Eddie has a knife turning him on? Being with him has really turned him into a damn freak. 

Eddie brings the knife back up to his lips with another slice of apple, his eyes flicking to Steve’s face, probably realizing that he hasn’t responded in a while. That he’s distracted. Eddie’s brows raise and he tilts his head, a menacing smirk pulling at the side of his mouth. He finishes chewing his bite of apple and lets his tongue peek out, licking the juice off the knife. 

A breathy whimper escapes Steve’s throat at the sight and he feels his cheeks flush. Great. Eddie is never going to let this go now. 

Eddie lets out a deep chuckle, leaning back a little, hand falling to rest on his thigh, flicking the knife open and closed. “You okay, baby?”  

Steve nods, eyes not leaving the way the light catches on the blade. 

Eddie leans forward, dipping to catch Steve’s eye, holding his gaze with an intense stare. “You sure?” 

He twists his wrist, flourishing the knife and pulling Steve’s attention again, eyes flitting back to it immediately. Eddie chuckles again, and reaches the blade out slowly.

Steve’s breath picks up. He shifts in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable in his tight jeans, as the knife comes to gently tip his chin up, bringing his eyes back to Eddie’s. 

Eddie’s dimple pops with his grin, his eyes dark and searching. “You like my knife, sweetheart?” 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and takes a steadying breath, trying to will his now, painfully obvious, erection to go down. Because honestly. What is wrong with him? 

Eddie taps his chin lightly with the side of the blade, a silent demand to look at him. But looking at him means admitting this. Steve sighs and opens his eyes before nodding. Just barely. 

A smug look spreads on Eddie’s face as he pulls the knife back and leans forward, crushing their lips together.

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!