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indouloureux · 2 years

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eddie and reader in an argument?? basically eddie misses something that he was supposed to do for her like picking her up after work or she had this big thing she hoped eddie would show up to but he got caught up on something and its not the first time it happened? but pls make it a happy ending

aaaa some hurt/comfort me love. thank you for requesting! <3

eddie winces when you slam the door open, doorknob colliding loudly against the wall as you does so. and he's sputtering out your name and stop like a mantra. but you don't.

"sweetheart, i-..." he sighs, hands falling limp to his sides as you enter the bathroom, a hasty hand opening the faucet as you begin to wash your hands. "can you please just...look at me?"

his plea was reasonable, at least. you haven't looked at him since he picked you up from the studio. poor naive eddie had expected you jumping into his arms, except he'd been greeted by an irate stance of crossed arms and foot tapping; eyes he's been daydreaming of eschew from him and it hurts his chest that you're avoiding his sight.

the car ride was silent. and he even played your favorite songs as you made your way home. but nothing made you look at him, and he wonders if the empty streets of hawkins was more interesting than the fact that he chose to listen to your songs.

eddie's how are you? was greeted by a curt i'm fine. his how was your day? was answered with a shrug. his kiss was chastised by the contact of your cheek, and both his hands were on the steering wheel than your thigh. his heart ached, really, when you kept on scooting in your corner the closer you got from home.

you turn the faucet off, a small squeak heard. you wipe your hands on your jeans, running your slightly damp fingers through your hair before you finally look at him. the frustration is evident by the way your pupils were almost a speck to nothing, a slight flare on your nostrils. although what makes him nervous the most was by the way your jaw clenches.

"what, eddie?"

he looks nervously at your hand on the sink, then at the hand on your hip before he directly looks at your irritated face. "did i do something, baby? you- you haven't looked at me since i picked you up and you sound- well, are you mad?"

you sigh, in a way that tells you're tired. physically, emotionally, his poor mind's still figuring it out. eddie has a hand lifted to reach out to you. "i don't know, eddie. i'm- i'm just tired. let's go to bed."

"hey, hey, no," he stops you on your way out, his body blocking the doorway, hands on your arms to stop you. the courage you've gathered to look at him is torn apart when you refuse to look him in the eyes once more. "talk to me, baby, come on."

"eddie, i'm tired—"

"no. no, you said communication m-makes the relationship work. so you tell me now. we're not sleeping until you tell me what's wrong," eddie frowns, trying to gather up all his patience. "please, (y/n). come on."

you close your eyes, tightly, the wrinkles around your eyes deepening until you open them and stare at him. "you didn't show up to my artshow, eddie."

oh.

his face falls, thoughts now dawned upon the realization. eddie was late to your show, one he promised about. one you talked about for weeks and one he's been listening to nonstop from how proud he was. and he was late.

five hours late, to be exact. kept you waiting outside in the cold with nothing but a thin shirt and jeans, spent two cigarettes as your thoughts filtrated around worry. and when he showed up, he had the nerve to think that everything was okay.

eddie knew how important it was to you. the same person who you expected to show up and come support you like you'd do to his gigs, never went through the door; never clapped and cheered for you.

"sweetheart," he exhales, eyebrows scrunched into a tiny raise. eddie swallows his tears, lets it hurt his throat because he doesn't deserve to cry over his mistake. "i'm so sorry."

"no, eddie! you- you promised!" you jab a finger through his chest before you wedge your thumbnail in between your teeth, blinking rapidly. "you said you'd be there! you told me every day for the past two weeks that you'd be there. and then- and then you weren't and you just left me hanging with my expectations!"

you stab your finger at his hard chest at every word, your voice wavering, filling it with this thorns around your throat that it hurts to speak while you hold back your tears. eddie takes in the pain that your nail gives, but eventually wraps his hand around your wrists.

"i know. i know, baby, i'm sorry." eddie suspires. "i just— i got caught up with the deal. they took too long. i'm sorry, it won't happen again."

you sniffle, loudly that it echoes around the porcelain walls of the bathroom. you refuse to look at him, and glare at the red pick that hangs on his chest instead. his heart aches when your bottom lip wobbles as you say, "you know, that's not the first time you said that. and every time i hear you say it, i always wished i'd never hear it again."

i'm sorry, it won't happen again.

the same words he said when he missed your performance at the pep rally and at the championship game, when he was late to picking you up from work, when he missed your dinner date that you worked hard for. countless events, arguments ended with the same six words before you both fall asleep and pretend it didn't happen because you both fool yourselves to.

"there's this voice at the back of my head that kept on whispering to me that you might be late," you mutter. "and i didn't believe it because you promised, eddie. you promised. and i believed you because i thought that you'd never really do it again. that- that you've learned—"

his heart aches at the two tears that roll down your cheeks. and before he can stop them, there's a bijou of tears that stroll down. eddie cups your face, but you shake your head to move them away. "i learned. i learned, (y/n). i promise that i learned. it's just that—"

"it's just what, eddie?" you furrow your eyebrows. "it's just that your campaign was too long and you forgot and you couldn't disappoint them? it's just that some- some guy stopped you over and asked for weed? or you took dustin to talk to his girlfriend or helped gareth with his guitar? it's just what, eddie? hm?"

"what?" he narrows his eyes at you. "baby, don't put words into my mouth-"

"i'm not," you almost yell, wiping your palm on your forehead. "i'm listing down the same reasons you tell me whenever you weren't there."

eddie lets his reason die in his throat and takes all the pain your words stab to him. he sniffles, feeling his own tears at his waterline as he stupidly decides to wrap his arms around you. you try to push him away, but your tears render you weak — pushing at his chest was as useless as the reason he tries to calm you down with.

"i'm starting to feel like i'm not important to you anymore," you whisper exasperatedly. "it's like- like all my achievements, or-or my hardwork don't matter anymore. because you're always not there, eddie."

he doesn't let go, keeps you tight to his chest as you spend all your energy into pushing him away. but with all your vigor ripped to its seams, you give in, sinking into his chest as you limply wrap your arms around his elbows. eddie whimpers at your sobs, muffled by his shirt that now has tear stains — color darkening by your cries.

"i'm sorry," he repeats. "i'm sorry. i'm so, sorry, baby i-" i promise it won't happen again. he wants to say. but he's afraid of breaking his stupid promise; afraid of breaking your heart again.

"you can just-" you wipe your nose on his sleeve. "you can't just hug me and say i'm sorry every time you disappoint me by breaking your promise, eddie."

every time you disappoint me.

his heart breaks. but he knows he's right. disappointment's always expected in relationships, anyway. it's not like he's never been disappointed in you before.

eddie shushes you, pats your unkempt hair down as he lets a few tears drop down his cheeks and onto your hair as he kisses the top of your head.

"i promise it won't happen again," he says. "i- i love you. okay? you're important to me. i'm very fucking sorry that i wasn't always there. okay so- so from now on, i'm cancelling all those stupid deals, okay?" eddie bends down, placing his hands on your shoulders. and he fights the urge to smile when you finally look into his eyes. "i promise you that i'll be there. break up with me if i break that promise, okay?"

the corners of your lips tug down, before you surprisingly let out a short laugh as you push his hair behind his ears, brushing his bangs away from his forehead as you cup his face.

"i won't break up with you. but i'll hit you in your balls, eddie, i swear," you sniffle. "just promise me, okay?"

"i promise," he nods, taking you into his arms once more. "you're- you matter to me, okay?"

you want to believe him. really. but that's the point in this whole thing — which promise to believe is unknown. it's where the trust is built. so you nod, letting him wipe your tears away. "okay. okay okay. just. be there, okay?"

"yeah." he nods. "i'll be there. even at the fucking bathroom while you pee, i'll be there. or- or at an alternate dimension. or even when you ask me to follow you into mordor. i'll do it, baby."

you laugh, and it's the best thing he's ever heard the entire night.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

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augustjustice · 4 months

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Children Behave (That's What They Say When We're Together), 1/2

AO3

It’s just after 10 pm on a Saturday night when the Party find themselves standing out on the edge of the forest surrounding Lover’s Lake, summoned by the “Code Red” Dustin had sent out half an hour before on their walkies.

“Dustin, seriously…what are we even doing out here?” Max demands with an exasperated flap of her arms as she hops off the back of Lucas’s bike, the pair of them stopping a few feet from the two others already dropped into the grass.

They approach the figures at the treeline quickly, the silhouette of one of Dustin’s many rotating ballcaps and Mike’s black curls–grown out so long they nearly brush his shoulders now–easy to recognize, even in nothing but moonlight.

It’s just the four of them these days, at least until the Byers manage to pack up their house in Lenora and move the family back to Hawkins. The party has been impatiently waiting out the days until summer begins as a collective, Dustin even rigging up a countdown clock that he updates them on every morning before school.

“Yeah, I really wish I knew,” Mike mutters in answer to Max’s question, the pair of them sharing an equally exasperated look, a rare show of solidarity.

“Reconnaissance,” Dustin interrupts, simple and curt, pointing from his position squatted down amongst the greenery. “Look.”

As one, Lucas and Max turn to follow the direction of his finger–where Steve’s familiar maroon BMW sits, about a stone's throw from Reefer Rick’s place.

“That’s…weird,” Lucas admits. “What’s Steve doing out here?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Dustin explains. “Steve wasn’t answering his walkie. He always picks up, he knows the Rule of Law.”

“How’d you even know to look for him out here, then?” Max asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Through the powers of deduction, my dear Mayfield,” Dustin replies, voice purposefully affected. “Something’s afoot. Of the Upside Down variety.”

Even the mere suggestion is enough to make the other three teens stiffen, casting wary glances at the darkened forest around them.

“Vecna’s dead,” Mike says, voice threaded through with sudden tension.

“And El closed all the rifts in Hawkins,” Lucas insists.

“She did,” Max agrees immediately, coming to the defense of both Lucas and El simultaneously.

“How many times have we said that before?” Dustin asks.

Max, Lucas, and Mike all share a cowed, anxious look.

“I’m just saying, it never hurts to stay hypervigilant. Especially around here. Don’t forget, Steve and the others tried to leave us behind, in this very spot, the last time.”

“Yeah, but…it wasn’t like we didn’t know what was going on then,” Lucas says defensively. “They would tell us, if Vecna was back.”

“That’s because we,” Dustin gestures emphatically between himself and Max, “were the ones to figure it out in the first place!”

“Come on, Dustin, he’s probably just…with some girl.” Mike’s face twists in a way that makes it clear exactly what he thinks of that. “I mean, it is Steve.”

“He’s not on a date, Mike,” Dustin rolls his eyes, his snippy tone implying the very suggestion is absurd. “Because if he was on a date, he would have told me. You think he would have missed the opportunity to brag about some hot Saturday night out he had planned? No. Besides, Steve tells me everything.”

“And yet…” Lucas holds up a finger, with the gravitas of someone interjecting in a court of law, “you still continue to insist he and Robin are dating, despite the fact that Steve’s told you a thousand times they’re not.”

“That’s not the same thing. It’s not my fault Steve’s too emotionally stunted he can’t recognize his own feelings for what they are,” Dustin waves a hand dismissively.

“They’re definitely not dating, dude,” Max says with a certainty that makes the boys’ heads swivel in unison to look at her, like she possesses some secret knowledge none of the rest are privy to yet. She ignores them, instead taking the binoculars from Dustin without so much as a question.

“It’s called Lover’s Lake,” Mike points out petulantly, “it’s literally a make out spot!”

“And the exact location of a former gate,” Dustin argues with just as much fervor. “Which Steve knows. Why would he be out here if it wasn’t because of something connected with the Upside Down?”

“I hate to break it to you,” Max interrupts, still peering through the binoculars, a slight smirk unfurling across her face, “but it looks like Steve’s definitely on a date.”

“What the fuck?!” Dustin squawks. “Let me see!”

As Max and Dustin begin a spirited game of keepaway with the binoculars, Lucas cranes his neck curiously.

“Ew,” Mike’s face screws up in exaggerated disgust.

“What?!” Lucas’s shoulders scrunch up towards his ears, defensive. “Don’t act like you don’t wanna know.”

“I definitely don’t, dude.”

“Admit it. You’re just mad because he didn’t tell you.” As she continues taunting Dustin, the corner of Max’s mouth tilts into a teasing grin. “Busybody.”

“Listen to what your boyfriend is saying, Max, and see reason. We need to find out if Steve and Robin finally got their shit together!”

“I already told you, they are so not dating,” Max rolls her eyes. “Besides, whoever he’s got in there with him? Has dark, curly hair. That sound like Robin to you?”

“Curly?” Lucas’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, you don’t think it’s–”

“Nancy?!” Mike gasps, completely scandalized.

“No, but I thought–Jonathan,” Dustin darts a confused look at Mike. “Unless…I was right, and they’re out here investigating something! I mean, come on, it’s Steve and Nancy. That sounds exactly like the kind of guns blazing thing that they would do.”

“It didn’t look like they were investigating,” Max mutters, “at least…not anything that wasn’t already inside the car.”

Whether it’s that last comment that sets him off is unclear, but from one blink to the next, Mike is suddenly charging out of the woods towards the car.

“Wait a second, Mike!” Max shouts, on his heels immediately.

One fleeting look between Dustin and Lucas is all it takes to send them rushing after the pair.

None of them is fast enough to catch up to his gangly gait, however, especially not with Mike Wheeler on a mission. In moments, he’s right on top of the Beemer, slapping an open palm impatiently against the window.

“Steve? Nancy?!” he shouts in petulant, disbelieving teenage outrage as the two figures inside spring apart. “Holy shit, is that you? Open the door!”

The question is followed by the sound of muffled cursing, and, apparently deciding the pair isn’t moving fast enough, Mike yanks repeatedly at the handle on the passenger side.

He’s nearly knocked backwards into Lucas, the other three having caught up, when the door finally pushes open under his hand.

"Nancy?!" he repeats in a screech to rival even Dustin’s loudest as the dark, disheveled curly hair they'd already spotted comes more clearly into view.

"Uh…" a deep, familiar voice pipes up, "sorry to disappoint, but–I'm definitely not Wheeler."

"Oh my God, you guys have gotta be fucking kidding me," Steve’s voice pipes up, and then he lets out a full-bodied groan, leaning across the console and pinning them all under his glare.

He's wearing his 'seriously pissed off' face, which is about two shades more intense than his 'pretending to be pissed off for the sake of saving face and riling them up' face. And at his side sits none other than…

Eddie Munson, who blinks over at them with wide brown eyes.

Part 2

#stranger things #steddie #dustin henderson #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #steve harrington #eddie munson #brotp: babysitter's club #my writing #my stuff #my things #have something silly #fair warning: the party are meddling in this and everyone bickers constantly #but that's their love language #no beta we die like my braincells since i'm writing this while sick lol

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rawsmackdownnxtdivas · 2 years

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Impact World Tag Team Championship - 8 Team Elimination Challenge

#chelsea green #zack ryder #curt hawkins #wwe #matt cardona #Brian Myers #major players #impact wrestling #rebellion

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wheatnoodle · 11 months

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i think steve should save the lives of tommy and carol next season. maybe they couldn’t get out of town cuz they really weren’t great in school either, and they’re total “peaked in high school” adults now.

and the apocalypse is goin wild, upside down creatures are in hawkins. tommy and carol have been backed against a building in the center of town by a demodog, tommy tries to put himself between carol and the dog but let’s be real, he’s shitting himself.

cuz what the fuck is this thing and what the fuck is he supposed to do? all he wants is to use carol as a human shield and scream, but he’s gotta be the man.

the demodog lunges. they scream, awaiting the chomp of teeth. it never comes. instead, there’s a swoosh through the air, a disgusting squelching as something comes in contact, and a whimper of something inhuman in pain.

tommy can’t look. his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s shaking like a leaf. carol’s nails release the piercing grip on his arm and she gasps.

“steve?!” and that’s what gets him to look.

because there’s no way.

and yet, there he is.

steve harrington who runs away from fights. steve harrington who can’t throw a punch but sure knows how to take one. king steve who let a girl ruin his reputation and then went missing the same week as eddie ‘the freak’ munson of all people.

steve harrington who is now coated in a layer of hellspawn-creature-demon-dog blood and brains (if they even have brains) and continuing to swing a bat full of nails like he gets paid to do it.

and when it’s dead and over and the street is quiet except for steve’s light panting, tommy speaks up.

“harrington…what the fuck happened to you?” it’s barely a whisper, all breathy and full of confusion, maybe even awe. there’s so much he wants to say, needs to say, to ask. but that’s all his mouth can come up with.

and steve looks between tommy and carol. his eyes are full of something close to remembered betrayal. it hurts somewhere deep to see but it’s better than the look of shell shock that took over when instincts kicked in and told him to protect, to kill where needed when he ran over. steve’s quick to school his expression into a politeness you save for someone you once knew. he scratches at a thick scar banding around his neck. god, what the fuck happened?

“carry fire with you. a lighter and hairspray works pretty well,” steve says and even his voice has changed.

“stevie, tell me you’re okay. and where the hell you ran off to?! please?!”

speaking of munson, steve’s ears perk up at the sound of the walkie on his hip coming to life. he takes it off, brings it to his lips.

“i’m okay. got a little sidetracked but i’m leaving benny’s now,” he says into the walkie. he gives a the pair against the wall a curt nod before turning and walking back to the street.

“jesus h christ, at least take me with you on your side quests, we die together, sweetheart, you know that!”

tommy shares a glance with carol and sighs in relief.

“maybe i should’ve dated him instead,” carol says and looks off after where he left.

#stranger things #steve harrington #tommy hagan #carol perkins #eddie munson #steve harrington fic #steve harrington headcanon #stranger things fic

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 4 months

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In too deep

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 26

Rated: M

CW: Blood and injury; Mild gore; Monsters; Tentacles; Horror; Light mind control; Referenced murder; Billy Hargrove is his own warning (he's not in this, but guess "who did this"?)

Tags: Eddie Munson whump; Billy Hargrove being an asshole; Lake Monster Steve Harrington; dark Steve Harrington; possessive behavior

Notes: Continued from this microfic. (Tentacle horror for Boxing Day? In this economy? Well, I guess so!)

Eddie’s nose is still bleeding by the time he parks the car on the narrow dirt road, well out of sight between the trees. He wipes at it with the back of his hand, but his entire face explodes with pain, so he quickly stops again. He chances a look at himself in the rearview mirror and groans.

The bruises have spread all the way from the bridge of his nose to the space under his eyes. They've also darkened to a rather impressive shade of purple. To really top things off, his left eye is swollen shut and there's a nasty crust forming on his split lip. He looks, all things considered, a bit like one of the things on his album covers.

“Fantastic…” he mutters at his reflection. “Really fucking-”

The Call hits him without warning, thrums through his blood, his bones, turns the dull throb behind his temples into a jackhammer of painpainpain.

“Jesus fuck!” he swears, grabbing the plastic bag from the passenger seat and hauling open the door so that he can holler into the forest. “I'm coming, your Majesty, calm your tits!”

It's starting to turn dark, but that doesn't bother him. He's made the way through the shrubbery and to the lake so many times he's starting to lose count. What slows him down is the pain in his ribcage, the one that feels like a white-hot knife digging into his lungs with every inhale.

Probably cracked a rib or two, some unhelpful part of him provides. He tells it to shut up. He doesn’t have time for this shit. He's got places to be, lake monsters to feed.

“You're late.”

Steve is lounging on one of the larger rocks near the shore, like some bored young Lord awaiting the arrival of his court jester. If bored young Lords had fangs and eyes glowing like marbles in the gloom and fucking tentacles instead of legs, that is. They twitch impatiently in the water as Eddie shrugs off his shoes and socks.

“Yeah well, excuse me.” he sloshes over, tosses the bag at Steve, who catches it one-handed. “The butcher back in Hawkins caught on to me and put a lock on their dumpster, which means I have to drive to the surrounding towns. So unless you change your opinion on roadkill-”

“Eddie…” Steve says. He snaps his blabbermouth shut, afraid he overstepped. “What happened to your face?”

His tone is conversational, disinterested almost. If it weren’t for the sharp, dangerous edge that Eddie is getting very good at picking up on.

“Oh, um …” He shoves his hands in his pockets defensively. “Nothing. Don't worry ‘bout it, it won't keep me from-”

Something shoves him from behind - something wet and cold - and he stumbles forward with a pained shout. When he blinks his eyes back open, he finds himself pressed flush against the rock - writhing tentacles wrapped all around him. Steve’s hands are cradling his cheeks, those gleaming eyes very close. Eddie tries to struggle, but the tentacles tighten and his broken ribs scream in protest. He whimpers and goes very still.

Steve's mouth curls into a satisfied little smile.

“Now,” he purrs, voice that low rumble that Eddie can feel in his very soul. “Who did this to you? Do not lie to me.”

Eddie screws his eyes shut. There's no getting out of it now.

“Billy,” he rasps. “My neighbor. We had … a bit of a disagreement.”

“Disagreement?” Steve hums. His claws scratch at Eddie’s temples, almost tenderly.

“On whether or not he should pay for his drugs.” Eddie gulps. “It's okay, I've got it handled, you don't need to-”

“Hm,” Steve makes, a curt, displeased thing. Eddie yelps again as he is suddenly released and almost tumbles into Steve’s naked chest. “You know what? I don't feel like eating your garbage today.”

He tosses the plastic bag into the shallow end like something vile. Eddie watches slack-jawed how it floats in the water, red clouds spreading all around it.

“You asshole! D'you have any idea how long it took me to-”

“Silence.” Steve grabs his jaw, hard. “You've been feeding me scraps too long, and I've had it with your excuses. You will bring me this Billy.”

“Wha-?” Eddie can practically feel himself go pale. “But … how the hell am I supposed to do that? You don't know that guy, I can't just casually stroll up to him and ask him on a cute little date to Lover's Lake, he'll-”

Steve presses a cold, membraned finger to his lips and Eddie goes silent.

“Aw, pet,” Steve coos, voice full of fond condescension. “You'll figure it out, I know you will. You're nothing if not resourceful.”

The finger swipes over Eddie’s lip, gathers a drop of blood. Eddie watches with hitched breath how a long, pointed tongue darts out and licks the digit clean.

“Try to look at it from the bright side. I get to feast like a king, and you get rid of another nuisance.” Steve winks at him, almost boyish in his mirth, and one tentacle comes slithering up to caress the curve of Eddie’s ass. “There's only winners here, right?”

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year

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Inspired by this Tweet

While exploring the city they moved to a few weeks ago, Steve and Eddie head out to a bar to celebrate. It’s Friday night, so all the other places are crowded/full, and they’re starving, having just finished unpacking. They’re so excited there’s no wait at the door that they don’t even realize they’ve stumbled into a bar with fully nude dancers until they’re sitting down.

The club is full of men, mostly the sleazy older men variety who are ogling at the dancers working. It’s not Steve and Eddie’s scene in the slightest, but they’re hungry, and they’ve already made it this far, so what the hell?

They keep to themselves, engrossed in their own conversations about the move and their relationship and how the kids are going to be so excited when they visit next week. A few of the dancers try to get their attention (mainly Steve’s because he’s definitely the prettiest guy in the place tonight), but he doesn’t give them much attention beyond a curt nod.

Eddie jokes with him that this must be teenage Steve’s wet dream come true, but Steve just shrugs and continues nursing his beer. Eyes on Eddie the entire time.

Eventually, their food comes, and it turns out the bar has the best burger Steve’s eaten since Benny’s closed down in Hawkins. And Eddie’s vegan burger is just as good. Plus, the drinks are strong, perfectly portioned, and cheap.

They leave the club full and happy and decided to return next week. And they do return. They take up the same seats as last week, order the same drinks and the same food, and keep to themselves.

It’s on their third visit that Steve and Eddie’s conversation over what color to paint their bedroom (Eddie wants red, Steve wants a nice light gray) that one of the dancers shimmies her way over to them.

“I don’t usually talk to our customers unless they approach me, but I have to ask you both a question that’s driving us all insane,” she says, leaning against the bar by Eddie.

Eddie and Steve share a nervous glance, afraid they’ve done something wrong or are being too loud in their conversation. When they turn to look at the girl, they keep their eyes trained on her face. Not straying any lower.

“This is the third time you’ve come in here this month and you haven’t looked at any of the dancers once. What the hell are you doing here? You know it’s a strip club, right? You’re allowed to look.”

This sends Eddie and Steve into a fit of laughter.

“Sorry, but you girls don’t really do it for us, if you know what I mean,” Eddie says cheekily.

“Oh,” the girl says, face flushed. She leans in closer and drops her voice. “There’s a place like this not far from here that you guys might enjoy better. If you know what I mean. You have to be careful going in, but it’s safe inside.”

Steve and Eddie exchange another glance. This one is full of raised and wiggling eyebrows. Silently asking each other if they’d be into that which they learn they are not. At least, not right now.

“Thanks for the tip,” Eddie says.

“But we’re just here for the food. Best burgers in the city,” Steve says, then turns back to his burger to prove his point.

The girl is a little stunned at first but ends up nodding her head. Says she’ll pass the message along to the chef and gets back to the stage for her routine.

Steve and Eddie become regulars after that. The staff and performers know them by name and their burgers are always waiting for them on Friday nights.

When the kids visit and demand to be taken to this great burger place they keep hearing about, they have to think fast. Steve ends up talking the chef into preparing an order for take-out while Eddie comes up with this intricate story about why they can’t physically take the kids. They’re bummed at first, but they get over it when they realize how amazing the burgers actually are.

Robin is the only one who knows that the great burger joint is actually a fully nude bar. Steve and Eddie take her there the first time she visits them, and after a bit of pushing, she hits it off with one of the dancers. They’ve been dating ever since.

The club becomes their regular dinner spot.

Sometimes they get pulled aside by a dancer or waitress to vent about their relationship problems. Other times they’ll buy a private session with a dancer just to keep her from having to dance for some sleazy man in a business suit.

But mostly, they just sit at the bar, eat their burgers, and plan what they’re going to do during the weekend.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #dani writes #mine

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