Pippin the Fluffy, Guardian of Pants

The guy's name is Steve and he made Eddie ache in the best way. 

But now it was time to go. 

He isn't proud of it, but it's what he does. All his partners so far hated the long distance of touring, which isn't something he's ready to leave behind. His band is gaining momentum right now and they all agreed sacrifices need to be made if they want to make it big. Dating is one of them.

So Eddie leaves every hook-up, no matter how hot they are, how sweet they talk to him, how good they smell. 

How evil their Pomeranian is. 

"Dude," Eddie hisses in exasperation the second time the little dog bares his teeth at him. He's usually great with dogs and loves most of the little creatures but this guy seems to have a vendetta against him. He's sitting on top of Eddie's pants like he's Smaug guarding his pile of gold and treasures. The most Eddie's managed to put on is his boxers but the rest of his clothes are under the dog's little body. And it's adamant about staying there.

"Fine. Be like that," he huffs. Maybe if he goes to use the bathroom, the dog will move, join his owner on the bed, or something. 

When he returns, the dog watches him smugly, still leaving its light hair on his black clothes. Eddie sighs, now resigned to a scavenger hunt for dog treats. He's starting to consider getting back in bed because going through a stranger's cupboards feels like a new low.

Thankfully he finds a packet of treats in plain sight. He picks it up happily, but his smile falls instantly when the dog spots the bag.

The little fluffy ball stands up, the hair across its spine raising while it bares its fangs, and Eddie is losing his confidence at an alarming rate. It's like the dog is offended that he's trying to bribe him. 

"What the fuck do you want from me?" he whispers heatedly, looking into its beady eyes. "I just want my pants!"

"Pippin!"

His heart almost falls out of his chest. The dog meanwhile, apparently named Pippin, jumps onto the bed happily, all signs of malice gone.

Eddie laughs awkwardly now that his hook-up is awake and puts the treats away before bending down to retrieve his stuff. 

"Your dog is insane, man. He wouldn't get off my clothes."

Steve hums.

"I trained him to do that."

"What?" Eddie looks at him in confusion. Now that he's awake, he feels weird about just leaving.

"Got tired of everyone leaving without a word. So I taught him to guard their clothes on the floor," he admits while scratching at Pippin's fur.

Eddie gapes at him.

"But by all means," Steve motions at the door. "I had fun, hope you did too."

"You're insane," Eddie says instead of something more appropriate. "I'm... I move a lot so I'm not looking for anything serious right now."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"I was hoping for a second round, not a marriage proposal."

Eddie considers him for a second before placing his clothes on a nearby chair.

"Well, in that case..."

I don't care what anyone says. I keep seeing Dom-Eddie this and Top-Eddie that.

I accept nothing less than Eddie learned about Queer culture and immediately put a handkerchief into the wrong pocket just because he thought it looked cool.

You cannot convince me that at some point an experienced gay who assumed Eddie was all dom and tough wouldn't stop in his tracks and watch this boy call over a group of people just so he can show them that Steve can benchpress him like a sack of flour.

You absolutely cannot convince me that Eddie doesn't make a character in D&D that's based after Steve thinking he's being so subtle about it, when in reality everyone knows it's Steve because Eddie spends a good ten minutes describing how strong and amazing and good the character smells.

It also doesn't help that he invites Steve for the practical demonstrations.

"Hey Steve!" he'll shout over everyone's heads towards the other boy sitting on the ratty couch reading a gossip magazine.

Steve would perk up. "Yeah?"

"I'm trying to demonstrate how this orc might throw someone over their shoulder." Eddie will never admit he swoons, even while he twists his curls around a finger and swings his feet under the table. "Could you...?"

"Oh! No problem!"

"He really doesn't have to," Gareth will say, weakly.

"We can envision it, we really can!" Lucas adds.

Eddie's already got his shining eyes set on Steve, vibrating out of his skin while Steve gives his muscles a preemptive stretch. "Yeah, but I really want to make this experience immersive. Now, fair knight, give me my uppies."

Everyone in Hellfire is so happy that Eddie is happy but they're absolutely suffering.

Written for the @steddiemicrofic October challenge.

All the Jokers Dressing up as Kings

October Prompt: Dress | Word Count: 350 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Underage Drinking, Recreational Drug Mention | Tags: Pre-Steddie, Missing Scene, Set During S2, Halloween Party, Post "Bullshit" Scene

The wig itches. Eddie scratches his scalp through it, hoping it doesn't get messed up. It's a shitty wig, but the drama club's costume trunk didn't exactly have a lot of options.

He borrowed a Members Only jacket from Jeff's dad, and a pair of Nikes, a half-size too big, from Jeff himself. It didn't look terrible while he was at home, but now that he's standing outside of tonight's party house, he's second-guessing himself. Maybe this was funnier in his head.

Too late now.

He saunters into the party, head held high, exuding confidence that he doesn't exactly feel. It's fucking packed. People everywhere, dancing, drinking.

But no Steve Harrington. 

Eddie gets the reactions he'd expected: some laughs, eyerolls, and attention, but it's definitely less fun without the King here to see that he's getting knocked down a peg.

The whole school has been slowly turning on Harrington, and Eddie has enjoyed watching that play out from the outside edges. It's been almost worth the repeat senior year.

Eddie scoops up some mystery punch, and then leans near the stained glass window by the front door, ready to make a quick getaway when needed. 

Oh, there's Harrington. 

He's pushing his way out of the bathroom, through the crowd, pinching his nose, making Eddie briefly wonder if he was doing coke in there. Fuck him, if so, because he didn't buy it from Eddie.

But, no, Eddie realizes Steve's trying not to cry. 

Shit.

Eddie follows him out the front door. He's not sure why. But Steve slides into his car, frozen, gripping the steering wheel.

Eddie hesitates. Then pulls open the passenger door.

Harrington's head snaps up, eyes red and wet, now looking even more defeated than before. He expected someone else. Wheeler, maybe. Of course he did. He definitely wasn't expecting Eddie Munson to climb in.

"Munson, what are you-" Harrington starts, then really looks at Eddie under the dome light, "Are you dressed up as me?"

Eddie pulls the wig off, bobby pins painfully yanking loose, "No."

And King Steve, through tears Eddie is politely ignoring, laughs.

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! 🎃

Notes: The header is a real Members Only ad, just edited down and colorized. It seemed super fitting with that tagline. Something does happen when you put it on. Title from Taylor Swift's, "Call It What You Want."

a new bottom in town

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop up event 'anniversary'

rated e | 902 words | cw: references to injury | tags: post-vecna, established relationship, top eddie munson, bottom steve harrington, anal sex

🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃🔃

“Can we try something new?” Steve asks as they finish eating the cheesecake Eddie brought home to celebrate their anniversary.

Six months may not seem like a lot to some, but for Steve and Eddie, it was a major milestone and they wanted to treat it as such. The first four months they spent together was mostly at the hospital while Eddie learned how to walk and talk and eat again.

“Sure, baby. What is it?” Eddie sets his fork down and leans forward so he’s in Steve’s space.

Just like Cinderella

"Shit, fuck!" Steve lets himself have one last glance at his wristwatch, and of course, it instantly proves to be a mistake. 

He runs straight into someone's back, and it punches all the air out of his lungs. He's stunned for a second, and can barely hear a rushed apology. He thinks he mutters back 'No, it was my fault', and by the time he blinks back into reality and crouches to pick up his bag, the guy is gone. 

But not all of him. 

On the pavement, right under his bag, he finds a... something.

It's made of metal and intricate, and not his. He picks it up and straightens up quickly, in hopes of seeing the guy he ran into. There are a lot of people rushing about, though.

"Hey!" He picks up his pace again, hoping to spot the person he ran into. He remembers long hair and a mix of citrusy shampoo and cigarette smell. Not much else. Nobody turns their head as he runs through the morning crowd, so he stuffs the item deep into his bag and focuses on the initial goal of rushing to work. He can worry about this all later. 

On his break, he takes the thing out of his bag to take a better look. It looks well-made and could be expensive, but he has no idea what it could be. It reminds him of old egg beaters, but he doubts that's what it is. Maybe a toy? One of these educational puzzles for nerds, like a Rubik's cube? Or! It could be a replica of some sci-fi movie gadget. Like the sonic screwdriver that Dustin made.

He probably should just ask around. 

His usual go-to, the self-titled oracle and part-time scholar Robin Buckley, had no better ideas than him. She turned the thing in her fingers, cradling it delicately like an eggshell, while humming and hemming. 

"Looks like a tiny brace. Maybe for a york's paw? The guy could be a vet," she offers. 

"Maybe," Steve nods, not convinced at all. He doesn't want to think about a little dog with a broken paw somewhere out there, its bones unprotected. "I was thinking it could be a kitchen utensil?"

Robin puts it on the desk between them and stares at it intently. 

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Steve shrugs, embarrassed to share his idea. "Like an egg beater?"

Robin continues her loud thinking but in the end, leaves him with nothing. 

The thing weighs him down on his daily commute, waiting in the bottom of his bag for the day he finds its owner. Steve isn't even sure if he would recognize him. Them? After a week he wasn't even sure it was a guy. 

The workload doesn't give him a break either, and once Friday finally arrives, he makes a detour on his route home to grab a drink or two. After his first drink, he checks for any loose change he could put in the tip jar and his hand finds the Thing. He pulls it out with a sigh and puts on the bartop with a small clunk. As he reaches out to put what he's found in the jar, he hears a very concerning and loud choking sound. 

To his right, a long-haired guy is wheezing his lungs out, fist-punching his own sternum. Steve immediately leans over the empty stool between them and starts smacking his back to help.

"Jesus, you alright? Went down the wrong pipe?" He looks around the man, but all he sees is a glass of beer, so hopefully he didn't get a peanut lodged in his windpipe. 

The man lets out a really gross phlegmy cough, clears his throat, and takes a shuddering breath.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he wheezes out. "Just, uh, you know. Didn't expect to just turn around and see, uh, that." He spares a tiny glance at the Thing in front of Steve. 

Steve immediately brightens up, hoping to finally get an answer to his predicament. He swiftly moves to the empty seat, drink and Thing sliding along the bar with him. He sees the man wince while he's still facing forward like he's afraid to take a proper look. He takes a drink of his beer, this time slow and cautious, and Steve can see the redness spreading from his cheeks down his throat.

"You know what it is?" Steve asks hopefully, leaning closer to him. 

The man freezes, and maybe it wasn't in his best manners to just sit down next to someone without asking, but it's already happened and Steve is kind of desperate. 

He gulps down the beer, no accidents this time, but his voice is still strained, when he asks incredulously:

"You don't?! No, you know, that actually explains it. Take them damn thing off the bar for the love of Merlin."

Steve, while taken aback by the sudden shift and being ordered around by a stranger, stuffs the Thing away from peering eyes. 

"Why? What is it? Something illegal?" Fuck, why didn't he think about that? 

But the man is shaking his head.

"No, but I'm pretty sure the bartender wouldn't appreciate it."

"What is it?" Steve presses on.

The guy finally turns to him and Steve can see him in all his glory. Black leather, long hair, and a pair of truly soft brown eyes that don't match his overall vibe at all. And they stare right at him like they are trying to look straight into his soul. He's searching for something for a long, drawn-out moment, before he deflates, eyes skirting away, but he keeps facing Steve. 

"Really?" he mutters, mostly to himself. "It's a fucking cock cage, man."

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠 🪱

I'm still on my rock star Eddie bullshit, so this week I'm thinking off …

… newly famous Eddie who's just had his big breakthrough, just going on his first big tour, playing in sold out venues for the first time and still dizzy from the rush of it all. 

And the biggest, most important concert of the tour is a huge success, the crowd is losing it, and as Eddie stumbles off the stage, sweaty and out of breath, and drunk on applause, his manager Argyle claps him on the back and says “Fantastic job, my dude! There's a little treat waiting for you in the green room, enjoy!” 

Before Eddie can ask what he means, he winks and leaves, but Eddie doesn’t dwell on it, just makes his way to the green room. 

There's a guy in there. He's fussing with something on the sofa table when Eddie enters, and at Eddie’s startled “What the fuck?” he yelps and whips around, hazel eyes wide and surprised. 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks warily. Maybe he's one of those crazy stalker fans he's heard about. The ones who'll sneak backstage and try to steal your used underwear or whatever. He doesn't look like a metalhead in his light wash jeans and striped polo, but who knows? It might be part of the disguise. 

“Oh, um, sorry,” the guy stammers, and blushes. He's got a pretty blush, Eddie must admit. Large splotches of pink blooming high on chiseled cheekbones that make his moles stand out. “I'm Steve. Argyle sent me?” 

Eddie’s eyes go large, and shit, now it's his time to blush. “What, really?” 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I'm to make sure you have everything you want.” 

“Oh,” Eddie says again. “Well, in that case …” 

He must say he's a bit surprised, but Argyle's always been a little weird like that. He also always thought callboys dressed a bit more revealingly, but what does he know? He's new to all this, and he doesn't wanna look ungrateful or stupid, so when in Rome or whatever. 

It's only after he's pinned Steve against the next wall and shoved his tongue down his throat that he discovers the actual treat: a case of cigars and bottle of whisky on the table. 

Luckiky, Steve doesn’t seem to mind the misunderstanding too much. 

Tagging: @stervrucht @arelliann @steddie-island @medusapelagia @vecnuthy

Robin is exhausted. The show ran long, the artists wouldn’t clean up their shit faster, and Vickie’s mom has to stay at her place, so she’s getting home way too late. She knows Steve’s probably asleep so she’s trying to be quiet as she sneaks into the kitchen to grab a drink.

She stops short when she sees some dude standing in her kitchen, digging through her fridge.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Ope,” the man shuts the door out of surprise and now Robin sees there’s a NAKED man in her kitchen.

“Oh my god!” She covers her eyes with her hands. “Who are you? And why are you naked in my kitchen?”

“You must be the roommate. Uh, I’m Eddie.”

“Eddie who? Why are you naked?” She keeps peering through her eyes to ensure he’s not moving closer to her.

“Eddie Munson, I’m Steve’s date. I’m naked cause…,” he trails off and thank goodness for that.

“I found more batteries!” Steve pops out from who knows where, just as naked as this random guy, but he’s holding a very pink vibrator in his right hand. “Shit! Rob!”

“Oh my god! Stephen Marie for the love that is holy. Take this twink and your dangly bits and get out of my kitchen!”

Fic where Wayne thinks Steve is Steve's middle name and that that's the name he prefers to be called.

He thinks Steve's first name is King because 1) Eddie always ranted about King Steve Harrington and he just thought Eddie was full government naming the kid in his rage and 2) he absolutely wouldn't put it past the Harrington's to name their only son King.

Imagine his surprise when he learns Steve's first name is, in fact, Steve.

Moles

written for @steddiemicrofic July

prompt: one || wc: 111 || rating: T || cws: nudity, excessive fluff

~~~

"One.” Poke.

“Two.” Poke.

“Threeee--”

“Eddie, babe, you can't count them all,” Steve sighs, lying naked on his stomach. Eddie's soft now, pressed alongside him, fingertips roaming his back. 

“You have no idea what I'm capable of, sweetheart.” Obnoxiously waggling his eyebrows, a wicked grin paints his face.

“You tried last night and failed,” Steve chuckles.

“Maybe you're right.” Eddie bites his shoulder, and Steve yelps. “But this time, I've got a marker.”

Head lost to the clouds, Steve's eyelids feel heavy with love.

“Four. Five. Six.”

Poke. Poke. Poke.

It feels wet, smells sharp.

“Wait,” Steve gasps, flailing for Eddie's hands while his boyfriend laughs maniacally, “you've got a what?”

Sea salt and freedom

Words: 1,385 [also on AO3]

Rated: M

Tags: Fantasy AU; Dragon Eddie Munson; King Steve Harrington; Soul bond; Mates; Implied sexual content; Monsterfucker Steve Harrington; They're in love, your honor

Notes: @house-of-the-moving-image said give me Upside Diner or Hic sunt dracones verse for my birthday, and I said why not both? Here's your surprise second ficlet, enjoy! 🐉💕

“Is this really necessary?” Steve asks as his dragon slips his favorite piece of silk over his eyes. He tries to go for annoyed, but can't quite keep the giddy laugh out of his voice. Hasn't been able to ever since they left the castle for their little get-away. “Or is this another weird sex thing of yours?” 

Eddie hums in mock-thought, a deep rumbly sound that floats through the fuzzy darkness behind the blindfold and tingles all the way down Steve’s spine, in his soul. His hands tie off the knot at the base of Steve’s neck, then go on to toy with his hair. His breath tickles the shell of Steve’s ear as he speaks. 

“What a question, beloved. You know how much I enjoy making you squirm.” As if to prove his point, he nips at the junction of Steve’s neck and shoulder, chuckling at the shiver and sharp intake of breath it gets him. “But also, you'd be able to see it once we're over those mountaintops, and I don't want you to just yet. Wanna look at your face when you do. So be good and wear this for me, yes?” 

What if Steve’s dad’s name is something like Marvin?

Can you imagine being intimidated by a Marvin? “Get a job,” sure thing Marv, whatever you say.

I see this and I raise you:

Herbert