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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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Steve having a little sister (who’s like a first-time) senior who has a crush on Eddie. But she’s a cheerleader, her parents expect her to marry an Ivy League, senator’s son or something. She kept her crush a secret until Jason calls him a freak in front of the whole cafeteria- and she punches him.

I had so much fun writing this request! I hope you enjoy what I've come up with, and if you notice the joke I stole from Glee, no you didn't. Reader’s race is not specified and she could be adopted because adoption is a wonderful, amazing thing. Harrington!reader and Eddie 4ever.

Words: 3.1k

“Mr. Munson, late again, I see.”

Mrs. O’Donnell heaves a disappointed sigh as Eddie gives her an over the top smile.

“Sorry, had a meeting with the principal. He wanted to know why you gave me detention again.”

Mrs. O’Donnell frowns. “I didn’t give you detention.”

“Oh, phew,” Eddie says as he slides into his seat. “Glad to hear it. I’ll try and be on time next time.”

The class lets out a titter of laughter as Mrs. O’Donnell rolls her eyes and turns back to the board. The dopey grin is stuck on your face as you lean forward in your seat. Resting your upper body on your desk, you bite your bottom lip as you look Eddie up and down. From your vantage point, you can only see the back left side of him, but you’ll stare at that for the entirety of the class period if you can.

“Miss Harrington?”

Begrudgingly, you tear your gaze away from Eddie’s glorious hair and see Mrs. O’Donnell watching you impatiently.

“Um, yes?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to enlighten us about the Stamp Act?” the elderly woman says.

“Uh…” you trail off, mind suddenly blank of everything that isn’t Eddie Munson. “I would not.”

A few people in the class let out snorts of laughter, but Eddie barks out the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. It makes your stomach fizzle, and your head feel all floaty. Even O’Donnell’s disapproving scowl can’t dampen your giddiness.

The rest of class, you’re riding on a high. You made Eddie laugh. Out of all the accomplishments in your life, you’re not sure if one has ever meant more to you. Making honor roll? Eh. Becoming a cheerleader? So what? Doesn’t compare to making the cutest guy you’ve ever seen laugh.

Okay, you tell yourself. When class is over, you’re going to talk to him. The bell rings, and you’re scrambling to get your things together. Tossing them into your bag, you sling it over your shoulder and follow Eddie out of the classroom.

“H-Hey, Eddie?” you manage.

He turns his head to look over his shoulder and gives you a smile that has your heart stuttering.

“Hey, Harrington. What’s up?”

“Did you see A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2?” you ask, somehow not stumbling over your words. You’d had Steve bring the VHS tape home for you to watch just so you could ask Eddie about it.

“Freddy’s Revenge?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up. “Such a letdown after the first one.”

“Yeah,” you say with a chuckle. “The first one was pretty good. This one made me want to fall asleep.”

“Ironic,” Eddie says with a smirk. He opens the school door for you, and you give him a grateful smile as you step out into the parking lot. You watch as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “See you tomorrow, Harrington.”

“Bye, Eddie.” You’re staring at him as he walks away, and you know you need to stop. But how can you when his ass looks the way it does in his jeans? Once he hops into his van, the trance is broken, and you make your way to your brother waiting in his car at the other end of the parking lot.

You groan as you yank open the car door and slip inside. Steve looks less than thrilled himself, but it has nothing to do with you. Your parents are forcing the two of you to join them at a company party tonight, which both of you are vehemently against. But Steve was tasked with picking you up from school, taking you home so both of you can get ready, then to the party.

“Think I can fake an epileptic seizure and get out of this?” Steve asks on the way home.

“You’re not epileptic,” you say.

“That’s why I said ‘fake’ it,” Steve says with a scoff.

“They’d find a way to make you come anyway,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

The party is just as horrible as you and your older brother imagined it would be. You’re forced into an itchy blue dress and Steve looks like he’s about two seconds away from ripping his tie off. The stuffy guests walk around with their noses in the air, only deigning to talk to those they deem successful enough. You want to throw yourself out of one of the windows as you see your parents approaching you with an older couple that they’ll probably expect you to remember from somewhere.

“Well, look at you,” the older man says. “All grown up.” The way he says it makes a shiver go down your spine.

“You must have all the boys chasing after you,” his wife says with a wink. It’s like they’re competing to see who can make you the most uncomfortable. Before you can open your mouth to speak, your mom jumps in.

“Oh, we have high hopes for her,” she says with a chuckle. “Going to go to Yale or Stanford and find her an Ivy League man to settle down with.”

And when exactly did we decide this? you think to yourself.

“Someone well-to-do,” your father adds. “A senator’s son, maybe. Who knows? We could be raising a future First Lady here.”

You want to gag. Steve must sense your temper rising, because he rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Remember us when you’re famous,” the older man says.

I don’t even remember you right now. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your dad changes the subject to something about profit reports.

Steve drives the two of you home before your parents, the two of them insisting they were going to stick around a little longer. The minute you get into your room, you throw your heels towards your closet. Your brother hears you banging around and comes to stand in your doorway, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He’s taken his tie off and undone the first few buttons of his white button up shirt.

“What’s the matter, First Lady? Didn’t like getting signed up for an arranged marriage?”

You whirl on him, practically shoving a finger in his face. “Do not call me that. I am not some prized pig they can sell at the fair.”

“Technically, I think the pigs are judged at the fair, not sold.”

Groaning, you rub your hands down your face.

“I’m running away,” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m joining the circus. Or a motorcycle gang. Anything! As long as it’s not here.”

“Oh, relax,” Steve says. “When you go off to college you can date whoever you want. They’ll never know.”

“Why do I have to wait until I go off to college?” you demand. “Why can’t I date whoever I want right now?”

“Do you want to date someone right now?” Steve asks, furrowing his brows.

“That’s not the point,” you say, but you feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, you do,” Steve says with a huff of laughter. He pushes himself off the doorframe. “Who is it?”

“Goodnight, Steve.” You shove him out of your doorway before slamming and locking your bedroom door.

“The fuck did you say, Freak?”

Jason Carver’s voice grates on your nerves as you make your way down the hall. Unfortunately, there’s only one person the jock douche would be calling that name and it has you seeing red. You were still steamed from your parents’ comments last night, and this is just going to push you over the top.

“Who, me?”

You walk into the cafeteria to see Eddie grinning at the basketball playing asshole.

“You’re the only freak here,” Jason says.

Your white cheer sneakers squeak to a stop on the linoleum floor, and you drop your bag down by your feet. The clatter has Jason’s gaze shifting to you. Most of the cafeteria’s attention shifts to you, actually. But you don’t notice as you stalk up to the bully. Normally, you might say something snarky to him, but you’re done with words. All your pent up frustration is taken out on Jason’s chin as you serve him a right hook. He stumbles back a few steps and there are gasps around the cafeteria. Your hand is throbbing, but the pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction you feel at shutting that jerk up. The small smear of blood above his upper lip has you smirking.

“Miss Harrington!”

With a groan, your satisfaction wanes when you see Principal Higgins glaring at you. His glasses are perched low on his nose and his hands are high on his hips.

“My office. Now.”

Thankfully, Principal Higgins’s secretary is kind enough to give you some ice to put on your knuckles. Some staffing emergency took precedence, so you’re stuck sitting on a bench outside his office while he deals.

“You’ve got some arm.”

The voice that you’d know anywhere sounds from above you and your neck cracks from how quickly you look up. Eddie stands there with his hands in his pockets, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Oh. T-Thanks,” you say.

Eddie takes a seat next to you on the bench. He yanks a black bandana out of his back pocket and smooths it out across his lap before folding it lengthwise.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the ice you’re holding against your hand.

“Sure.” You extend your injured hand out, and Eddie secures the ice against your knuckles with the bandana, then ties it tight enough to keep everything in place.

“How’s that?” he asks.

“Better. Thank you.” You find it hard to meet his eyes, so you keep your focus on your hand as you bring it back into your lap.

“So,” Eddie says, turning himself sideways on the bench and making himself comfortable. “What made you punch ol’ Carver? I mean, I know we all want to do it, but no one’s been quite so brave. Not until you, that is. And from a cheerleader? One of his own?”

“I’m not one of his own,” you say, looking up at him. But Eddie has a playful smirk on his lips.

“Nah, I know you’re not. I’m just teasing you. But what did want to make you do that? Couldn’t have been all on my account.”

“Why not?” you ask with a frown.

Eddie lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Listen, Harrington. I don’t see you as someone who goes around punching people for the hell of it. You’re one of the nicest people in this hell hole of a town. The jackass must’ve done something to deserve it.”

“He did,” you say. “He called you a freak.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, leaning in towards you with a conspiratorial whisper. “But most people do.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” you say with a frown. “You’re not. And I hate how Jason always does it in front of a crowd. It’s like he needs to put you down in front of others to prove he’s this king or whatever. So, someone needed to knock him off his throne in front of people, too.”

“My knight in shining cheer skirt,” Eddie teases with a wink. He’s shocked when your face goes red and you’re unable to look him in the eye. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The heat in your face is getting worse by the second and you feel it’s only a matter of time before you crack.

“You sure? I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

God, that’s the last thing Eddie could ever make you feel. You immediately shake your head, refusing to let him think those thoughts even for a moment.

“No, no, not at all. I’m sorry, I guess I’m just an…awkward person,” you say with a wince.

“Maybe I like awkward,” Eddie says, gently kicking his black boot against your white sneaker. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and they have plenty of room to buzz about, seeing as you hadn’t gotten to eat your lunch.

“Maybe I like awkward, too,” you say softly.

Eddie smirks. “Oh, then you must adore me, Harrington.”

“Maybe I do,” you say with a shrug, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact with him.

“Well, maybe I like sweet, pretty cheerleaders who can sucker punch like Bruce Lee and talk to me about horror movies.”

Your mind stopped listening after Eddie called you “pretty” though. Did he really think that? Or was he just saying it to be nice?

“Hmm,” you muse. “Guess I should send Hailey Hudson from the team your way to talk about Halloween then, huh?”

Eddie chuckles and the same sensation as when you made him laugh before fills your body.

“Nightmare on Elm Street is more my cup of tea,” Eddie says. “Plus, talking to any other cheerleader bedsides you doesn’t seem very appealing to me.”

“Miss Harrington,” Principal Higgins says, sticking his head out of his office. “You can come in now.” He steps back inside, and you release a sigh. Of course talking to Eddie would have to come to an end eventually, but why now?

“Well,” you say, standing up from the bench. “Guess it’s time to hear my sentence.”

“Maybe if you get released early for good behavior, we could grab pizza sometime?” Eddie looks nervous, and that alone makes you want to laugh. Why on earth would he be nervous asking if you wanted to hang out?

“That sounds great,” you say, the euphoric smile unable to stay off your face no matter how hard you try.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, seeming shocked.

“Why do you sound surprised?” you ask with a giggle. Taking courage from the fact that he seems to be getting nervous around you as well, you decide to be a little bolder. “I don’t just throw punches for anyone, you know.”

The most endearing smile grows on Eddie’s face, and he places one of his ring-clad hands over his heart.

“I am very honored to have the most beautiful girl in school defending my honor.” He outstretches his hand out to you as you begin to walk backwards towards the principal’s office. “I’ll wait for you.”

You can’t help but giggle. “I’ll have my parole officer contact you.”

“Should be easy since I’m in the phone book.”

“I’ll make sure to let her know. Bye, Munson.”

“See you later, Harrington.” He gives you one last smile before you step into the office.

The worst part isn’t the detention you were given or that you have to apologize to Carver. It’s that you’re told to call your parents to come and get you. Apparently, the school nurse is out for the day, and they can’t have you staying in school with a potentially injured hand. It hardly even hurts anymore, but you’re not going to let them know that. Let them think that you’ll be headed to the hospital for all you care.

When you pick up the phone from the desk, your finger hovers over the numbers. Principal Higgins is sitting right there, making sure you’re going to tell your parents exactly why you need to be picked up. At the last second though, you dial a different number.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi, Dad,” you say, gripping at the receiver pressed against your ear.

“Dad?” you hear Steve ask in confusion. “This is—”

“I-I know,” you say. “I’m just calling, Dad, because I need you to pick me up from school. I’m in Principal Higgins’ office.

You can tell Steve understands now by the sigh that comes across the line. “What did you do?”

“Well, my hand is injured, and the nurse isn’t on duty today, so they don’t want me staying at school while I’m hurt and no one can check it out.”

“Tell him why it’s injured,” Principal Higgins says.

“Yes, tell me,” Steve echoes, obviously being able to hear his former principal’s words.

“I, um, I punched Jason Carver,” you say.

“You did what?!” Steve all but screams.

“He called Eddie Munson a freak in front of the whole cafeteria.” You say this piece looking Higgins dead in the eye. Are you going to do anything about that? you want to ask. “So, I punched Carver to shut him up.”

“Honestly, I’m impressed,” Steve says.

“Thanks. So, uh, can you come get me?”

“My shift is over in ten minutes,” Steve says. “I’ll head there as soon as I get out of here.”

“Thanks, St—uh, Dad. I’ll see you soon.” You hang up the phone and Principal Higgins stares at you over the rims of his glasses.

“He on his way?” he asks.

“He’ll be here soon.”

“I can’t believe you punched Jason Carver,” Steve says, shaking his head in amusement as he drives you home.

“He’s an asshole,” you defend with a shrug.

“Over Munson, though?” Steve asks incredulously. “Seriously? Couldn’t have picked another hill to die on?”

“Nope,” you say through gritted teeth. Crossing your arms over your chest, you stare out the passenger window.

“Why Munson, though, I—” Steve cuts himself off with a groan and shakes his head. “Oh, no. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’d love to,” you reply. “But I need to know what you’re wrong about first.”

“Munson isn’t the guy you want to date, is he?” Steve asks nervously.

Your face gets hot for what feels like the millionth time in the past few days. But that’s all the confirmation your brother needs, because he’s letting out a groan that makes it sound like he’s in agony.

“You really have a thing for the Freak?”

“I have one good fist left,” you say. “Want me to use it on you?”

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad about your detention then,” Steve says with a shrug.

“Then I’d tell them about you moving the dirty magazines from beneath your bed into the air vent,” you counter.

“How do you even know about that?” Steve asks, shooting you a glare before looking back at the road.

“Your room and mine share the same vent and I can hear the pages rustling when the air is on.”

“You’re the worst,” Steve grumbles.

“You also have no room to complain with some of the trash you’ve dated,” you point out.

“Are you and Munson…a thing?” Steve asks, sounding like he hates every syllable of the question.

“No,” you tell him. “But he asked me to go get pizza with him. So, maybe soon.”

“And that will make you happy?” your brother asks.

A smile comes to your face just thinking about it. “It would.”

Steve nods his head and lets out a deep breath as if he’s resigning himself to the fact that you have feelings for Eddie.

“Okay, but you’re telling Mom and Dad.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x harrington!reader #harrington!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #request

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appleblueberry-pie · 2 months

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Hello again, I hope you are doing well. I was wondering if you are still open for requests. If so, may I please request for Yandere Nanami wherein his precious captive darling is sick and refuses to be nursed by him

I am 4ever open for requests. I am grateful for the meal. It shall be digested properly.

Let Me Take Care of You.

note: You guys ever been so sick you started crying???

You both knew that this shouldn't go on for any longer. You knew you should've given in a long, long time ago. You've never felt so....terrible from a sickness before. You've never felt this helpless. Weak. But you showing weakness wasn't what destroyed you. You could care less if you looked helpless because the pain and struggle was just that great. You couldn't eat. You could only down liquids and, fuck, you really couldn't speak either. Your lower back hurt. Your arms hurt. Your sides hurt. Your neck hurt. You couldn't rest properly because of the pain. And on top of that, you were extremely fatigued, and dizzy.

During the daytime, you would overheat and even the thinnest shirts with wide-open windows could cool you. But at night, the slightest crack in the window with the millions of blankets you had on top of you couldn't warm you up. It was hell on Earth. And Kento couldn't bare to sit back and watch you struggle any longer. You were his sweetheart. His baby. His everything. And you wouldn't let him help you. It was driving him insane. In the morning, he would watch you move at a snails pace into the kitchen to refill your glass with water. You would avoid eye contact. If he told you good morning, you would reply. But your voice trembled when you spoke, as if it was a task to even make noise. It made him put his newspapers down in extreme concern. But still, you wouldn't let him help you. Take care of you.

It was when he came back for work that he decided he had enough. He thought about it the entire time he was on the clock. He took you in for a reason. He vowed to himself that he would never neglect you and would always take care of you. Yes, he wanted you to be comfortable around him, and yes, he allowed you to set some barriers between the two of you, but you were so sick.

When he walked in the door, all of the lights were off and it was slightly stuffy. The windows were all closed and you obviously didn't eat, seeing the empty kitchen sink with no dirty dishes. He sighs and makes his way to the bathroom. He goes to turn on the light when he hears the soft sound of sobbing from the bedroom. He freezes and turns towards the bedroom door, walking over to sneakily place his ear on it. You're crying. Kento knocks on the door. "Y/n?" Immediately, the sound stops. "Can I come in, please?" You sigh shakily underneath the covers. How the fuck did he hear you? You tell him no. The door creaks open and he softly closes the door behind him.

He walks around to your side of the bed and kneels down to see your puffy face, wet with tears. It breaks his heart knowing he was gone and couldn't comfort you when you were crying like this. "Hey, what's wrong?" He rubs your arm above the blankets and you sniffle. "It's nothing. Please leave me alone." God, you sounded like you were in pain. You could almost see a vein popping out of his neck. You were beginning to stress him out. "Y/n." You shook your head. "No."

His eye twitched and he got into a more comfortable sitting position on the floor. "Sweetie, you know I told you not to keep secrets. Can you please tell me what has you so upset?" It was so painfully obvious what was wrong. There were used tissues scattered on the ground, you had so many blankets, and he could see your sunken in face.

"You're sick."

You used the energy you didn't have to try and turn the other way. You only managed to get yourself onto your back. It was silent between the two of you. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on not crying again, but it was just too much. You didn't want his help. He ruined your life. Kidnapped you, erased your public image, got rid of your phone number. You had nothing but him. You didn't want him. You ignored him. You tried to ignore him. He's right here for you and you just can't help but realize he's quite literally all that you have. It's so humiliating how you have to depend on the only person who you hate that is willingly giving himself to you like this.

A terrible sob rips itself out of your chest and you cover your face with your hands, a migraine reappearing at the strain you place on yourself once more. "I know I'm sick. I fucking know!" You couldn't even properly yell at him, too tired to even try. He frowns, and kneels on the floor, closer to the edge of the bed. "Then why don't you let me take care of you?" He wants to wipe your face of the tears, wipe the sweat off of your forehead. Feel you again. But he's scared he'll stress you out even more.

His hand almost hovers over your face as you cry. Your sad sigh of pain gives him the courage he needs to gently bring the back of his index finger over your face. He wipes a tear that falls down your cheek before bringing his other hand to wipe the other side completely. You let him. His touch was so very gentle. As if he didn't want to scare you away. "I can take care of you...." I am capable, he wanted to add that on. He loved you so much. He would rather fight a thousand curses before seeing you in this state again. He will do almost anything for you. Anything to see you happy. See you smile. He wanted to be fully yours. And he will do anything to prove that to you. Your eyes flutter open when he's done and you look over at him sadly.

Your eyes, so beautiful and beguiling, give him the softest look he's ever gotten from you. It makes his heart skip a beat and he sits up straighter. He would smile at you, but now is obviously not the time for that. "How do you feel? Do you want me to bring you medicine? Are you still in pain?" You look away before making eye contact with him again and nodding. He nods back and responds, "Okay. I will bring you some medicine and more water to drink." He wipes stray hairs off of your face, realizing how much you had to neglect yourself to rest. "I will make you beef stew, as well. You might be hungry, and your body needs energy to survive. I won't let you drink just water. Hopefully you will finish it all, and by then, maybe I could get you cleaned up, if you allow me to." You stare at him silently. He was offering to help you get better. You honestly don't remember the last time anyone has done that for you. But even then, he was still your kidnapper. Still, though, what were you going to do, say no? You hesitate before nodding to him. His face finally softens and he caresses your cheek one more time before forcing himself to stop.

"I love you." A weight is lifted off of his chest when he says those words. He wanted to say it to you in a better moment, but any moment is a good moment rather than when it's too late. He doesn't let you respond and gets up to leave and make you stew, a new fervor in his stride.

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