6 Works by peculiva
Listing Works
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“Eddie, can you maintain a shred of consideration for your coworkers’ aural health and, y’know, both our dignity?” Steve asks sweetly, kind of serious, but also kind of not.
Eddie’s voice is just as sweet, “What, you don’t want them to know how you edge me until I can’t walk anymore?”
Steve groans and folds himself over the kitchen counter.
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Or, Eddie Munson’s Guide on How to Make NSFW Phone Calls at Work
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A little bit of lemonade dribbles out between the bottle and Eddie’s mouth. Steve swallows thickly. It runs down Eddie’s chin, pink and sweet and a little sour, ‘cause Eddie likes berry stuff. Raspberry Dream popsicles and ice-cold currant lemonade. Blueberry pancakes once when Steve made breakfast for dinner. He watches the drop, heat collecting low in his gut despite the cooling water of the pool around him as it reaches Eddie’s jaw, almost disintegrates in the dip of the scar there, then makes it to the soft skin between his mandible and throat.
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Or, swapping spit
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“What happened to our pact?” Steve asks. He’s not whining, just genuinely wondering when and why she shed her loyalties and gave someone else his reserved treat.
Robin throws him a look he can’t quite read. “I had to help out a patron in need,” she says vaguely. “Did my job, y’know.”
Which would be a valid explanation of course, if Robin hadn’t spent the last two months stashing away a secret popsicle for him even though Jen would give her an earful about it if she knew. And if it was Jen of all people who’d requested that final frozen perfection, Robin would’ve said so right away.
Robin, who’s throwing him another look, well kinda. She’s sort of peeking over his shoulder actually, somewhere behind him. Huh. Steve spins around.
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Or, Steve's craving his sweet treat, Robin lovingly betrays him and Eddie's just trying to read in peace.
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“Don’t laugh, man,” Steve warns from behind the relative safety of the open closet door. On its other side, sprawled out over the entirety of the bed like it’s not two people usually sleeping in there, Eddie snorts.
“You have to know that’s basically begging me to make fun of you, right?”
Written for the Steddie Bingo Mini Event "A Splash of Summer"
Prompt: "Don't laugh" -
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Steve’s sprawled on the cushioned floor opposite Robin, feet hanging out the back of the van when guitars start playing. It’s almost dreamy, though the guitars are soon joined by something deeper, a cello maybe, and they morph into a slow and sad melody. Steve throws Eddie a look where he’s next to Robin, perched over his rickety lunch box, expertly rolling a joint. He has ditched his jacket; the bats tattooed close to his elbow dancing in the gloomy light.
“Wait for it,” he says without looking up.
Steve waits for it.
Until the melancholic vibe shifts into something a bit faster and decidedly more rhythmical with drums and a bass setting the pace.
Something perfect to get high.
Steve’s head starts bobbing on its own accord and he pretends not to notice Eddie’s satisfied grin.
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Steve's future is— Yeah, fuck if he knew. Because he's stuck working in a shitty video rental store and soon he won't even have his best friend with him anymore, and he lives in a silent empty house and he's gonna be very fucking lonely.
Except, well, there's also Eddie. And they might actually be becoming friends. Or maybe they already are.
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Steddie Microfic Challenge, January 2026 prompt: first
It's handcuffs, everyone.