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longlivefanfic-net · 2 years

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Banished&Bloody: King Steve

Fic Summary: Post-Volume II. Eddie Munson wasn't dead when he was left in the Upside Down; well, he wasn't dead anymore. Steve Harrington has spent the days since they came back to Hawkins haunted by the idea that he could have saved Eddie--or at least died in his place. It quickly becomes clear that the Hawkin's group has to go back to the Upside Down and, when they do, they find an unfamiliar face. Vampire!Eddie Munson, Grieving Steve Harrington.

Chapter Summary/Content: Chapter 2 of 8. Steve is dealing with the constant ache of Eddie's death, the feeling that he should have been the one who died. Very heavy on the angst, grieving Steve Harrington, some mentions of Nancy/Steve.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I really, really needed more info about what happened after Eddie died. Basically I just needed to know that it actually affected...anyone?? other than Dustin and Uncle Wayne?? so this is v angsty and sad bc IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THAT WAY ON THE SHOW. anyway duffer brothers I'm outside anytime u want to talk

Chapter Two: King Steve

Always the babysitter. He was always the fucking babysitter, Mr. Mom as far as everyone else was concerned. Steve rolled his eyes, grabbing another package of Doritos off the shelf to pitch into the grocery cart he was pushing, thinking about how Jonathan had so casually suggested Steve run to the store for provisions when Dustin had complained that he was too hungry to think. The actual adults–a term Steve still didn’t feel like applied to him–were all at work, trying to make life look as normal as possible to keep the rest of them safe. Frankly, Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle had more or less decided to keep their plans secret from Murray, Hopper, and Joyce: the “adults” needed to focus on things like keeping the cops off their backs, and it wasn’t like anyone was going to suggest that Joyce Byers go into the Upside Down. And, as Jonathan had pointed out, there was no reason for the adults to fret about what the rest of them knew had to be done. The adults knew the bare minimum of what was going on: they seemed to gratefully swallow the lie that the group of kids were all spending eight or more hours a day together just to sit and watch TV, or occasionally going in groups to visit Max at the hospital. Part of keeping their plans under the radar meant avoiding telling Hopper or Joyce too much about what they were doing or how often they were together; that left Steve in the grocery store, playing the role of grown-up despite the fact that a part of him still felt like the high school kid who had kissed Nancy in his bedroom after throwing her in his pool. But, he did have to admit, he wasn’t the same person he had been back then. He still kept his baseball bat full of nails in his trunk, and, even in the grocery store, he was aware of the closest exit to him at all times (at this moment, it was through the storeroom which would bring him out to the loading dock where he could either go back to the parking lot for his car or go straight out from). Picking up groceries felt useless, though. It felt like something anyone could have done, and by asking him to do it, Steve felt like the rest of them viewed him as useless. Was this why he had survived? He had beaten a demogorgon, had been tortured by Russians, had lit Molotov cocktails and thrown them at Vecna and still he felt like he was just…a necessary evil to the rest of them. A combination of bodyguard and babysitter.

A sharp slice of pain cut through his heart as he turned the corner into the next aisle. A combination of bodyguard and babysitter was what he had thought of Eddie Munson when he left him with Dustin to distract the demobats. He had known Eddie would keep Dustin safe, had seen the way Eddie looked at Dustin like he was a little brother, had heard Eddie’s admission to being jealous of Steve ringing in his ears. Steve had known in his heart that Dustin would keep Eddie from being stupid, and Eddie would do whatever it took to keep Dustin in one piece. He hadn’t counted on Eddie doing that same thing for him, for Nancy, for Robin. Dustin had told them, sobbing when they came back to the gate in the Munson’s trailer, how Eddie had tried to make Dustin go back to Hawkins, had gone back outside on his own to draw the demobat’s attention. Steve shuddered at the memory, his breath speeding up as he remembered Dustin soaked in Eddie’s blood, tear tracks clearing dirt over the round, youthful face that had suddenly lost some aspect of childlike innocence. Steve had looked at Dustin, and he had known that a part of Dustin had died when Eddie Munson did. They had worked together to pass Dustin through the gate with his injured leg, and Steve suddenly felt a phantom of the tickle against his chin as Dustin had buried his curls into Steve’s neck, sobbing as he was passed to Nancy and Robin in the trailer. But that’s not where he was right now–he was not in the trailer, he was not holding a crying Dustin, he was not wiping Eddie’s blood off his hands. No, Steve was in the grocery store, about to hyperventilate in front of the bread options. Eddie was dead. Dustin wasn’t. Steve wasn’t. Just because Eddie had broken his promise to Steve, had decided to be a hero, didn’t mean Steve had to– Had to what, he thought, suddenly angry. Had to feel guilty? Yeah, he did. If he hadn’t been so pissed about being the babysitter he probably would have been the one with Dustin. He, Steve, would have died instead of Eddie. And that was something he was going to have to get used to, because Steve knew it was going to burden him for the rest of his life.

Shaking his head, the brown locks flopping in front of his eyes as he cleared his mind forcefully, Steve grabbed the first loaf of bread his hands touched, threw it in the half-full cart, and walked to the front. He checked out quickly, barely making polite conversation with the cashier–a shame, too, because he was highly aware of the way she was flirting with him, but he couldn’t shake the itchy feeling in the back of his skull that told him he needed to be back with the kids, making sure that they were all safe. He loaded the food into his car, sliding behind the wheel with the intention of driving directly back to Hopper’s cabin. Most of their company, as Mike insisted on calling them, were living in the cabin together, so as soon as Joyce and Hopper were gone for the day it was the perfect place for everyone to convene and work on their battleplan. They had spent the last week talking through plan after plan, shooting them down one by one. They couldn’t be sure where Vecna would be; they couldn’t be sure that El’s recently returned powers would be strong enough to fight him again; they couldn’t be sure they knew how to kill him after their last plan had failed. Nancy had been angry, at first, when they had realized Vecna had lived. When they realized Vecna had taken Max–or taken her and given her back, Steve wasn’t completely sure–Steve had had to hold Nancy, rubbing circles in her back while she sobbed. Robin had held her hand, the three of them suddenly aware of the price they had paid for not being ready to face him. But, Robin had reasoned later, Vecna was going to take Max anyway–maybe it was because they had weakened him that Max was still alive, albeit asleep in a hospital bed. That’s what they all told themselves, anyway. That still didn’t make Steve feel better about Eddie, though. No one really talked about Eddie like they did Max. Every time they saw Lucas, someone would ask immediately if there had been any change in the young girl, if she had suddenly opened her eyes and started snarking at nurses. Steve had only heard Dustin talking about Eddie once after they left the Munson’s trailer–telling Mike that their Dungeon Master hadn’t survived. The two had clapped each other on the shoulders, quiet tears slipping down their faces. Steve had watched them, thinking how grown up they seemed; it was like they were more mature than him, closer to being adults than he was, because they could put their grief aside so easily.

Steve’s car suddenly slammed to a stop. He had spotted one of the many flyers lining the streets of Hawkins these last few days, and his foot had slipped onto the break. He maneuvered his car to the side of the road, putting it in park as he got out. There, fluttering in the wind, was a picture of Eddie. It was one of the signs his uncle had put up, covered with the word “Missing” instead of “Wanted,” and someone had drawn pentagrams over it. Steve knew Eddie wouldn’t mind the pentagrams–probably would have laughed–but the red ink that scrawled “MURDERER” across his face was too much for Steve to bear. He ripped the poster down, balling it up and tossing it in the open top of the trash can he passed on his way back to his car, that same slicing pain in his chest. He had made it a habit to scan the posters he passed, telling himself that he was looking for faces he recognized, keeping a mental scorecard of how many people Vecna had taken from him, but he really was watching for Eddie’s posters. Anytime he saw a “Wanted” poster, he would stop to examine it, making it look like he was only looking at the picture closer before he slipped it into a jacket pocket. The police force had enough going on as they dealt with the recovery from the “earthquake” that Steve felt certain they would forget about their missing “cult leader” within weeks. The ones Wayne Munson put up were different though. Wayne had used a better picture of Eddie, one that looked much more casual than the yearbook picture the police had pulled from Hawkin High’s files. Eddie’s lips were half crooked in the “Missing” photo, a begrudging smile playing at the edge of his mouth as he probably said something that would have confused Steve–something about Dungeons and Dragons, or the Mordor shit those kids were always going on about. In the photo, Eddie had his arms crossed in a defiant pose that, to Steve, spoke to his need to be different, separate himself from everyone around him. Steve tried to take most of the “Missing” flyers down too–there was no need to leave Eddie’s face to fade in the sun for weeks when they knew exactly where he was, where he would always be. But when Steve found the posters that had been vandalized, cartoon devil horns and cruel words scrawled over them, he couldn’t stop himself from letting just the tiniest bit of his anger out.

Eddie had fucking died for this town. No one knew it but them, but that didn’t make it fair for these people–hell, these assholes–to make a mockery of him. Eddie had told Steve that he wasn’t a hero; he had told him about how he ran, how he ran when Chrissy was dragged onto his ceiling, how he ran when the cops showed up, how he ran when Jason and his friends found him, how he was always, always running. Steve had clapped him on the shoulder, leaning in to remind Eddie that running is a survival instinct. You’re supposed to run from this kind of shit, he had said. Eddie had bristled at his response; “I know there’s no shame in running,” he had said, his voice low as they walked through the woods in the Upside Down. “But you don’t run, do you, Harrington?” Steve had half-shrugged at this, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. No, he wanted to say, but I want to and that’s just as bad. And that was just another reason Steve would feel guilty for Eddie’s death. If he had turned around, had put his hands on Munson’s shoulders, maybe even given him a little shake to force him to look in his eyes, and said “I want to run, I would always run if I wasn’t the only thing standing between these creatures and those kids; you should run and maybe I’ll run too,” maybe Eddie would be alive now.

Steve pulled up to the cabin, putting his car in park before turning the keys in the ignition. He had been so distracted with his thoughts about Eddie that he hadn’t even paid attention to where he was going, sheer muscle memory bringing him back to the poorly-repaired cabin. The slam of his car door summoned the younger kids to the door, and they fell on his car, pulling out the grocery bags, like a pack of starving wolves. “Yeah, yeah, slow down ya little–” Steve cut himself off when he saw Nancy standing on the porch, smiling. He smiled back at her, raising a single hand to wave. His chest twisted again. Part of him felt like it wasn’t fair. He had been so close to telling Nancy how he felt before they went after Vecna; if he had been able to stomach the idea of her living without him, he would have told her in no uncertain terms how he felt about her before they had gone to the Upside Down. Instead, he had waited, convinced he would be able to tell her when they got back, but there was always something keeping the two of them from having a quiet moment to talk. There had been one moment in her mom’s kitchen, while she grabbed trash bags and he waited to take them to the basement, that he had started to tell her. “Nance,” he had said, and his voice had broken. She had turned to look at him, eyes wide, and looked at him with a hint of panic in her face. “Are you…okay, Steve?” She had asked. He had been about to answer–about to say no, he wasn’t okay, he was pretty sure he was the reason Eddie Munson was dead and he was in love with her, and both of those things were going to be permanently weighing on his mind but he needed someone to know and he wanted that someone to be her–when Robin had bounced into the kitchen, pulling the box of trash bags out of Nancy’s hands and teasing Steve for standing around like an idiot.

Now, the only time Steve ever got to see Nancy alone was in his dreams. That sounded dirty, he thought to himself as he unpacked grocery bags in the small kitchen of the cabin, but it wasn’t like that. He dreamed about her almost every night, but he also dreamed about Dustin, about Robin, about Eddie most nights. He’d wake up almost every night, screaming, his sheets twisting around his sweat-soaked body. It almost made him grateful that his parents were never home; no one was around to burst into his room, to ask why he woke himself screaming until his throat was raw and sore, why this happened to him every night. Steve couldn’t help it: he would lay in bed every night, staring at his ceiling, and keep his eyes open as long as possible. He would think about good things–red lipstick on pretty girls, ice cream in the summer, the smell of his pool at midnight in the Fall–and he would still eventually close his eyes and wake up howling, a sound that didn’t even sound like it should come out of a human body breaking through his chest. Steve’s dreams were full of death. It wasn’t always bloody. Sometimes, he dreamed about Nancy in Vecna’s grip again, no music to pull her back to him as her bones snapped under his too-weak fingers. Sometimes it was Robin, coughing up bloody spittle as demobats pinned her down like they had done to him, and she’d reach her fingers out to Steve but he could never reach her. The ones that hurt him the worst, the ones that he would wake up from and spend the rest of the night sitting locked in his bathroom, the fluorescent lights on, a knife or his bat in hand as he crouched against smooth tile until the sun came up, were the ones about Dustin. Dustin being pulled into the air as his jaw cracked, Dustin pinned under one of those stupid demodogs like he had fed candy bars to, and–the really, really bad ones–Dustin being held down by Eddie, the demobats circling the two of them as Eddie dripped blood onto Dustin’s body and Steve stood there helplessly as Dustin’s eyes darkened, went glassy. Steve’s imagination had taken over, but only when he was asleep: during his waking hours he was still in control. As a result, he had basically stopped sleeping. What was the point, anyway? All he did during the day was work the occasional shift at the Family Video, essential to keeping Keith from getting too suspicious about where Steve and Robin were, and run errands for the people in the group who actually got things done.

Since coming back from the Upside Down, Steve had spent a lot of time thinking about one of the many assigned readings he had struggled through in high school. Reading wasn’t exactly Steve’s strongest subject, so Nancy had helped him make sense of the damn thing. Even though she was a year younger than him, she could read through the nonsense words and explain each scene to Steve, make the weird sentences and spellings into understandable moments that Steve could see when he closed his eyes and listened to her talk; he had spent the entire day fuming when she explained the ending, telling him that the hero had come back to get his revenge after being rescued by pirates because, really, who got rescued by pirates? But what he really thought about, more than anything else, was the ghost in that story. The guy had been haunted by his dad; his ghost-dad told him to get revenge for his murder, to kill his uncle because his uncle had killed him. Steve felt like he was being haunted by Eddie, every flier on the street with his eyes ordering Steve to get revenge for his death. Steve also worried about what that meant for Nancy because, if he was Hamlet, that meant she would be that pretty girl who drowns, singing about flowers. He shook his head suddenly–that’s why it was best to let Nancy and Jonathan stay together. Let him be her Romeo–well, that one didn’t end any better either, so maybe they could be…just someone else, someone happy.

A small hand patted him on the back, pulling him out of his reverie as he considered how few of his English class stories had happy endings, and Steve jumped. “Hey, calm down,” Dustin said over his shoulder. He reached out, grabbing the bag of Doritos Steve had just unpacked and ripping the top open. Dustin turned to Steve, smiling, and Steve tried to plaster a similar one on his face. If Dustin noticed the artificial smile or the dark bruises under Steve’s eyes, he didn’t say anything. “New plan,” Dustin said around a mouthful of taco flavored corn chips. “We’re briefing in the living room.” Steve followed behind him, taking a spot on the floor near Robin, still wearing her Family Video uniform from her shift that day, as the younger kids crowded onto the couch. “We go in, we get to Vecna, El holds him, right, and then–” Mike turned to El, his words bubbling over his lips, “we grab Max and we run, and you guys–” Mike pointed to the older kids as he said this, “go in and you hit him with fire and burn him, and then El will just like,” he clapped his hands together, “squash him.” They all sat, looking at Mike. “Okay, dude,” Argyle said from where he was sprawled on the floor. “How is this different from the last plan?” “It’s not,” Nancy said, voice sharp as she shot a biting look at her brother. “No, it is actually,” Mike said, “Because Will is going to be with El and he’s going to let Vecna take him like with Max,” Jonathan gasped, “but we’re all going to be together this time.” All of the eyes in the room slid to Will. He was looking at the floor, lip between his teeth. “You want Vecna to grab you?” Steve couldn’t stop himself from asking. “No,” Will said, sharply. “But I want to stop him.” He looked at Jonathan, and the two brothers shared a watery-eyed nod. “Do you…do you think this will work?” Steve turned to look at El. He had never truly gotten used to the young girl, with her odd speaking patterns and word choices, but he trusted her completely. She locked eyes with him, far too intense for a kid, and nodded. Steve bit his lips, looking back at Nancy. She nodded as well. “What do you think, Buckley?” He asked, trying to force his tone to be light. “We’ve made it out twice,” she said. “Might as well tempt fate again.” The two looked at each other, half smiling, and Robin’s eyes narrowed as they slid over his face. She searched Steve’s eyes, tilting her head to the side.

Once everyone else had agreed to the plan, Nancy immediately taking control of fine-tuning the instructions with Dustin, Robin pulled Steve outside. “What, what?” He yelped, her nails clawing into the soft skin of the back of his neck. “What’s your deal, Harrington?” Robin half-growled at him, getting too close as she poked him in the chest. “What do you mean?” Steve asked, brows slipping over his eyes in confusion. “You want me to make a move with Vickie, you tell me that it’s now or never, you immediately back off,” she whispered, “Nancy,” and then resumed her usual too-loud volume, “and then you start showing up here looking like…well, you look like shit, Harrington.” He shook his head at Robin. “Cool it, okay, with the…romance stuff, Buckley.” “No!” Robin said, throwing her arms out to the side. “Why should I have to carpe diem and all that if you don’t?” “Because you and Vickie actually have a chance,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips as he leaned towards her. “Okay, despite the fact that you and I have equal chances,” Robin said, raising her eyebrows to add silent emphasis, “That still doesn’t explain why you look like you were dragged through a lake again.” “Don’t worry about me,” Steve said. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” He turned away from her, looking out over the woods. Robin’s voice was uncharacteristically soft behind him as she asked, “Why not?” Steve chewed his bottom lip. He didn’t want her–or anyone else–to worry about him, but he just doesn’t lie to Robin. “Nightmares,” he whispers, sliding his eyes to hers as his voice fades into the oncoming night. He turned, looking out over the oncoming night sky as the sun faded below the treeline. “What kind of nightmares?” Robin asked from behind him, her voice rasping. He half inclined his head towards her. “The bad kind, Robin.” She snorted then, realizing he was serious, put a calming hand on his shoulder. “What kind of nightmares, Steve?” “Nightmares about you,” he admitted, quietly, and her fingers tightened around his shoulder. “And Nancy. And Dustin, and–” Steve’s voice broke. “And Eddie,” Robin said. Steve just nodded, his throat tight. “He’s gone, Steve,” she whispered. “It’s my fault, I think.” “It’s not.” With that, Steve turned to look at Robin fully, smiling a half smile that likely only emphasized the bags under his eyes. “Agree to disagree, Buckley.”

Chapter Three here!

#Steve Harrington #steve harrington fan fiction #stranger things #my fic #steve harrington #feral fics #steve stranger things #steve harrington fics #babysitter steve #babysitter steve harrington #grieving #angst #grieving steve harrington #post season four #robin buckely #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #dustin stranger things #stranger things fan fiction

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sewercentipede · 2 months

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everybody’s horny or on their period or microdosing mushrooms or having their birthday soon… march really has arrived

#my dashboard is synched in menstrual cycle and psychedelic therapy due to the harmonic convergence of waning Pisces and waxing aries season #I got my period the morning after posting this 💃#so now I’m all four #1k #5k #10k

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twinstxrs · 2 months

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fabian’s insistence on calling someone to tell them about lucy & yolanda because he thought people just deserved to know, out of respect. both deeply sweet & incredibly gutting. (bill seacaster move over that’s MY darling boy)

#(who is also his own darling man boy but that’s besides the point)#fabian seacaster #fantasy high #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #dimension 20 #ok sorry for all the posts this ep just gave me a lot of feelings it was so #the bad kids really felt like kids in this one for me. what an honor what an injustice & all that #fantasy high spin off season where it’s four episodes set during summer break and incredibly stupid my god please #FREE THEM

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steddiehyperfixation · 1 year

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accidental eavesdropping (steddie ficlet)

based on this post by @imjust-that-shy. i hope i did this vision justice <3

The doors to the bathroom burst open, and - on some pure, inexplicable instinct and with nearly inhuman speed - Eddie darts back into the stall he'd just been about to come out of and leaps to perch on top of the toilet seat, crouched there like some sort of creature.

He hears the sound of retching and the stench of vomit fills the air. He holds his breath, wrinkling his nose and trying to imagine what possible context could be behind Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley bursting in here together to puke their guts out. Eddie knows the two of them work together, he’s seen them sharing shifts at Scoops Ahoy when he's walked by. (Not that he often intentionally passes by the ice cream parlor and slows down just to catch a glimpse of Steve or anything… Although who could really blame him if he did? Like, come on, Steve in that uniform? Hello, sailor.) His mind is busy spinning stories of possible explanations, ranging from spoiled ice cream to sneaking alcohol and getting too drunk during their break.

Eddie's leaning towards the 'drinking on the job' explanation, especially when the retching finally ceases and Robin says something about the room no longer spinning. Those little rebels, Eddie thinks approvingly.

“When’s the last time you, uh…peed your pants,” Steve is asking Robin now, in response to her telling him in a Russian accent to interrogate her.

Eddie curls over his knees, tilting his head to try to peer through the gap between the stalls and the floor to put an image to his eavesdropping. Might as well, he’s kind of stuck here and there’s really not much else he can do right now. He can see Steve’s legs, one bent and the other stretched out in front of him, and Robin in the stall past him laying on the floor with her legs up against the stall wall as she answers, “Today…”

“What?” Steve questions.

“When the Russian doctor took out the bone saw!” Robin says.

Okay…what? Russian doctors and bone saws? Eddie’s now thoroughly intrigued, if a little (okay, a lot) confused. Maybe they’re talking about a movie they watched or something.

Steve’s legs shake with his laughter. “Oh my god.”

“It was just a little bit, though.” Robin pinches her fingers together as she twists her body in Steve’s direction while he laughs again and mutters that whatever it is they took is still in her system. She pushes her feet off the stall and slides to sit against the opposite wall. Eddie can only see her legs now. “Okay, my turn. Have you…ever been in love?”

Steve answers that he has, with Nancy, and makes a sound mimicking an explosion. Eddie remembers that, remembers seeing Steve and Nancy being all touchy and cute in the hallways at school while he was trying his damndest to convince himself that he absolutely definitely did not wish he was in Nancy’s place. It didn’t work very well. And it’s not working very well now either as Steve starts to go on about some new girl he likes now instead - some girl who’s funny and smart and can crack secret Russian codes (okay, seriously, what is it with these two and Russians?) and oh shit, he’s talking about Robin.

Eddie very suddenly feels like he should not be here listening to this, eavesdropping on Steve confessing his feelings for someone. Not only is that, like, a private and personal thing, but also what if Robin likes him back and they start kissing or something right here in this bathroom where Eddie has to sit here and listen to it and that would just be horrible for him for so many reasons and- Eddie’s getting ahead of himself. Robin hasn’t even said anything yet, and her knees are pulled up to her chest and her voice shakes when she confirms she’s still alive after Steve asks if she’s OD’d there in the silence and she uncurls with a deep sigh. All signs that she doesn’t actually like Steve back.

Eddie watches as Steve shifts and slides under the stall into Robin’s, and catches sight of the nasty bruise marring nearly half of Steve’s otherwise beautiful face as he does so. Now concern has been added to the list of emotions this eavesdropping experience has rollercoastered him through so far. The bruise looks fairly fresh and Eddie can’t help but wonder what the hell gave Steve a black eye like that and if he’s okay.

After a brief spiral of concern for Steve’s face, Eddie tunes back into reality to find himself staring at Steve’s ass as Steve now sits with his back against the stall wall opposite Robin. Eddie blinks, expands his tunnel vision to include Steve’s lower back and Robin’s legs which are also visible beneath the gap in the stalls.

“It’s not because I had a crush on you,” Robin is saying. “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

“Mrs. Click?” Steve sounds confused.

“Tammy Thompson,” Robin clarifies. “I wanted her to look at me.”

Oh. Eddie should really not be listening to this. Robin is trying to come out to Steve, trying to share something deeply personal and vulnerable with him and only him, not knowing that she’s outing herself to an eavesdropping near-stranger as well. Eddie feels violating and intruding. He can’t imagine how he would feel if he found out someone he barely knew had been secretly listening in on him coming out - probably not great, probably terrified. This is something he shouldn’t know, not like this.

“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl,” Steve says, his tone unreadable, and Eddie’s heart nearly stops, sure his own anticipatory anxiety is likely only just a fraction of what Robin must be feeling right now.

“Steve…”

“Yeah?” A pause. “Oh,” Steve’s voice goes soft. “Oh… Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Robin sighs. Eddie can see her hands nervously rubbing at her shins. “Holy shit.”

Steve is silent for a few painfully long moments. Eddie’s hands curl nervously around his own shins. Is Steve going to be homophobic? Should Eddie be worried for Robin now?

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin asks, trying to be light but Eddie can hear the anxiety in her voice.

“No, I just, uh- just thinking,” Steve responds.

“Okay…” Robin’s voice is barely audible. Eddie is holding his breath.

“I mean, yeah,” Steve says finally, “Tammy Thompson’s cute and all, but the only reason I never gave her the time of day was because I was too busy staring at Eddie Munson.”

The aforementioned Eddie Munson releases the breath he’d been holding with an involuntary squeak and claps a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, neither of them heard him over the sound of Robin shouting. “What?! Eddie Munson?! You liked Eddie Munson?” she squawks, voicing Eddie’s own stunned thoughts perfectly.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms casually, completely unaware that he's throwing an eavesdropping Eddie into an absolute crisis right now. There's a soft thudding sound like Steve's hitting the back of his head against the stall wall. His voice gets kind of wistful, almost dreamy, as he says, “His rings, man. Rings and tattoos…and that long hair and those chains he'd wear… Honestly just his whole punk aesthetic thing had me mesmerized.”

“Pretty sure he's metal, not punk,” Robin corrects him.

Thanks, Robin. Also, what the fuck is happening right now?

“Whatever. Still hot as hell,” Steve says.

Eddie squeaks again and practically shoves his whole fist in his mouth to keep himself from making any more noise, his teeth knocking against his rings. The rings Steve likes, apparently. He feels like he's going to pass out, his heart beating so erratically it's making him lightheaded. King Steve - the popular, preppy, stupid, gorgeous, dumb jock Eddie's been crushing on since forever - just called him hot????

“Did you hear that?” Robin asks suddenly, voice low and cautious.

Shit.

“Is anyone else in here?” Steve calls out.

Fuck.

Eddie bites down hard on his knuckles and holds his breath, going impossibly still. If they get up and search the bathroom, then he’s about to be caught red handed, crouched on top of a toilet seat with his fist in his mouth and his face flushed scarlet, eavesdropping on their private conversation about secret Russians and gay crushes. Eddie contemplates falling into the toilet and attempting to flush himself down it. Every god imaginable is receiving a silent prayer from him right now as he watches apprehensively through the gaps in the stall. One of those gods must've heard and taken pity on this poor gay disaster of a man crouched like a goblin in a bathroom stall, because after a few horrible seconds of silence, all Steve does is lean down to peer beneath the stalls for a moment before sitting back up and saying, “Looks empty. I think the drugs are making us hear things.”

“Yeah, probably,” Robin says. Then she giggles, knocking her leg against Steve’s. “I still can’t believe you were into Eddie.”

Steve flicks Robin’s knee. “I can’t believe you were into Tammy.”

“What’s wrong with Tammy?!” Robin protests.

“What’s wrong with Eddie?” Steve counters. “At least he’s actually got talent. Tammy’s a total dud - she wants to be a singer and shit but she can’t even hold a tune.”

Eddie is going to die. He is actually going to die right here, right now, because Steve Harrington thinks he’s hot and talented. And then Steve starts mimicking Tammy, singing Total Eclipse of the Heart in a ridiculously goofy voice, and now Eddie is going to die because he finds that so stupidly endearing and adorable. Maybe he should just flush himself down the toilet, save himself from this hopelessly pathetic crush of his. Instead, he’s saved by the bathroom doors bursting open again and a new voice shouting at them, “Okay. What the hell?!”

Steve and Robin collapse into a fit of giggles before being dragged to their feet by the newcomers and led out of the bathroom, leaving Eddie alone and reeling and struggling to process literally everything he’s just overheard. He finally hops down from his toilet perch and exits the stall like he’s in a daze. He’s not sure how long he had been camped out in there - probably only about ten minutes - but it felt like hours, so long that the world outside of that single bathroom stall almost feels foreign and unfamiliar now.

Eddie grips the bathroom sink and stares at his flustered reflection in the mirror and whispers to himself, “What the actual fuck?”

---

Later, years later, only after he and Steve are already dating, Eddie tells him all about this experience, and Steve laughs so hard he nearly cries.

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rainylana · 1 year

Text

“Hush.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you find porn under eddie’s bed.

warnings: smut, insecure reader, innocent reader, porno magazine, blowjob, daddy kink towards the end, spanking, fingering, fluff, edging, dirty talk, decrophylia, the causal dominance in this will kill you. i’m in love with this one omg i got so horny writing it help. please let me know what you think!!

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to snoop through his stuff, but you knew damn well he looked through yours every chance he got. He was in the shower, and you were freely looking through his drawers, not looking for anything particular. You were just bored. He’d asked if you wanted to join him, and you had just blushed deeply, making him laugh before he tugged off his shirt.

He really needed to deep clean his room, but you knew he wouldn’t. He hated cleaning, hated organizing. Every surface was covered in dust and spider webs decorated the corners. Trash littered the dressers with old pop bottles. You knew he wouldn’t do it, so you figured you’d have to.

Sighing, you started picking up some of his clothes off the floor to put in his dingy hamper, your bare feet sinking into the carpet with every step. You could hear him humming in the shower, his voice echoing off the shower walls. You were able to throw away most of his trash and make his bed, even though you were going to mess it up soon, anyways. You dusted a few tables and even lite a candle. There were a few boxes on the floor that you scooted off to the side. After having nowhere to put them, you pushed them to the bed.

A magazine was peaking out underneath his mattress, and you curiously took it in your hands, eyes widening at the cover. Your face blushed deeply, quickly looking to make sure Eddie hadn’t suddenly appeared back in the room. There was a woman on the cover, a very attractive one that immediately made you self conscious. You started flipping through it, lips parting in shock at the graphic images on the paper.

The first page, a woman tied up. She was being flogged by a man in a mask. The second, another model handcuffed and gagged on a bench. Each page was filled with vile images, yet they made your belly flip flop. Your face burned shamefully. Just as quickly as you had picked it up, you placed it back in its original hiding spot. It wasn’t any of your business.

Yet, you couldn’t seem to force yourself to clean anymore. You sat on the bed, biting your thumbnail anxiously. You suddenly felt very insecure. See, you were a quiet girl. You had friends, but not many. You liked your privacy and alone time. You had many doubts about yourself and Eddie knew it. He tried to help you as best as he could, assure you daily that you were beautiful, his best girl, but you had a talent for letting negative thoughts get the best of you.

“Why the long face?” Eddie announced himself, causing you to jump in your seat. You hadn’t noticed him come out.

“Oh- nothing.” You shook your head, trying to force a smile as you admired his body, nothing but a white towel around his waist. “I cleaned for you.”

“I can see that.” He laughed, opening his closet to find a pair of boxers, dropping his towel to the floor. “If you were that bored, baby, I told ya you could’ve joined me.”

You blushed again, fiddling with your fingers. You were having trouble forgetting the magazine, the women you saw. Of course, you knew they didn’t look like that in real life, but still, the insecurities flooded in. You were new to sex. You and Eddie hadn’t been dating all that long yet, only about six or seven months. Sex was obviously great, but the magazine made you question if he wanted more with you, if he wasn’t satisfied.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie shook the towel against his hair, now clad in black boxers that showed off his prominent bulge.

“Nothing.” You smiled softly, running a hand through your hair. You hated that your eyes started to prickle.

He threw the towel on the floor, watching you questionably. “You look like you’re getting ready to cry.”

“No, I’m fine.” You turned your back, picking at the skin around your fingers. “Just sleepy.”

“You sure?” He asked, coming to sit down beside you. He frowned when your eyes were full of tears. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I’m okay.” You blinked heavily, waving your hand.

“No, you’re not. You’re crying.” He grabbed your knee, dipping down so he could see your face. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Your face was burning red, a tear slipping down your face as you sniffled. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Well, I do.” He pushed, tucking your loose hair behind your ear. “I wanna know what’s got you upset. Come on, tell me.”

You whined, keeping your head in the opposite direction so he didn’t see you. When he questioned you like this it wasn’t hard for you to break. “I just- fuck,”

Eddie widened his eyes. It was rare for you to curse. You even criticized when he did it. “Woah, there, holy mary,” He chuckled. “Thought we were supposed to watch our language, huh?”

Your face was beat red and you couldn’t stop thinking about the magazine. “Do you think I’m pretty?” You turned to him, eyes full and bright.

“What?” He said confused.

“You heard me.” You blinked. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I think you’re pretty. You’re beautiful, y/n.”

You pondered with his answer, looking down at your lap. “Well, I don’t think so.”

“That’s stupid.” He answered without a beat, shaking his head. “Don’t think like that. I don’t want you to. You’re beautiful and you know it.”

“But I’m not like them.” You whined, fisting your hands with a cry. “I’m not skinny like those models. My hairs not shiny like theirs, it’s just a big fucking rats nest!”

Your outburst made Eddie recoil, eyes widening in shock at your admittance, but it out the pieces of the puzzle together. “I take it you found my magazine?”

Your face burned as you nodded.

“Baby,” He grabbed your shoulder, turning you toward him. “Look at me. Hey, come on, look at me.” He tried to find your eyes. “I’m sorry you found that. I shouldn’t have it, I know. I promise you I don’t…well, you know, with it anymore. Not since you and I started going out.” He said honestly, wiping away your puffy tears. “But you know those girls in there aren’t actually like that, honey.”

You did, but it didn’t help. “I know.” You tried to look down but he kept your eyes on him.

“And anytime I’ve ever…used it, I’ve only ever thought of you, I promise.” He assured you, grabbing your hands, his hair still damp from his shower. “I’ve always thought of you doing the things in there. Not the other girls. It’s always you.”

You stared at him, looking for any sign of a lie. You didn’t find one. You swallowed awkwardly. “I only looked at a couple pages.”

“What did you see?” He rubbed your knee, scooting closer so your shoulders were pressed together.

“Uh,” You tried to remember, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “A bench.” You stared at the wall. “A girl on a bench being flogged, and one girl with handcuffs over a man’s knee.” Eddie stared at you, making it much more difficult to say such profound words.

“I’m sorry that it upset you.” He frowned.

You shook your head. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have been snooping. I was just trying to clean up, a bit.”

An awkward silence filled the energy between you. Eddie didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to scare you. But you were still curious after what he had said. “You said you think of me.” You turned to him, eyes no longer wet. “Is that true?”

He nodded.

“You picture me instead of those girls?”

He nodded again.

“Is that…what you want to do to me? That turns you on?” You didn’t know where this sudden urge of confidence came from, but it shocked both you and Eddie.

“Yes.” He felt a twitch in his boxers, looking at your lips. “The idea excites me.” He knew he had to be careful with he said. You were like a baby deer, anything could scare you.

You nodded this time, gulping as you looked at his chest. “I see.”

“What are you thinking?” He asked quickly. “Be honest with me.”

You liked it, the idea of him doing that to you, it was just scary. You didn’t know how to do it. It would be in his hands, which you were okay with. “It’s intriguing.” You looked at him through wet lashes. “Just..kind of scary, too. Do you think we could try it?”

He couldn’t help but smirk, making your tummy flop. “I don’t have a bench, baby.”

“Well, not that.” You shook your head quickly. “Not that. But maybe..I could, uh-”

“Take a breath.” He instructed you, lifting his chin. “Don’t rush.”

You did as he said, taking a deep breath through your nose and out your mouth. “You could put me over your knee.” You opened your eyes to look at him, body almost shaking with nerves.

“You want me to spank you?” He rubbed the back of your neck, a look in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. It made your stomach twist together. “That’s what you want?”

You thought you might faint. You felt a throb between your legs that made you tremble. “I want you to do what you want.” You shrugged your shoulders.

“No, no,” He shook his head. “No, this isn’t about me. It’s what you want. You’ve gotta be honest with me, baby. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

It was what you wanted, you just didn’t really know how to ask for it. He knew you were nervous. Your face was on fire and you were picking at your nails. He rubbed your knee comfortingly.

“I want..” You took a breath. “I want to try what was in the magazine.”

“And what is that, exactly?” He got closer to you.

You swallowed hard, looking down to his lips. Oh, how badly you wanted to kiss him. “I want you to- to uh, to spank me.” You struggled to find the words, choppy and fractured they came.

He put his lips on yours in a desperate, hard kiss, one that knocked you back a ways, his nose pressing against your own. You moaned into him, making his cock harden in his jeans. He loved the sweet sounds you made. He scooted closer till he was right beside you, oh so confidently reaching between your thighs to cup your pussy with his palm. You gasped into his lips, parting away, but he connected them back, mixing his tongue with yours and gritting teeth.

He rubbed you over your shorts, warm and wet. You were so needy for him you wanted to cry all over again. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest. His other hand was in your hair, tangling it, while the other stayed on your warm cunt. You grinded into his hand, back and forth you moved, whimpering into his mouth.

He did this until you were worked up enough, moaning into his neck, biting into his skin as your orgasm was off by seconds causing before you could crash, he pulled away. “Bad girls don’t get to cum.” He whispered into your ear.

“What?” You pulled back, face flushed and voice high pitched. “What-”

“Going through my things was bad.” He tsked, pulling your hands off from his neck. “You knew better, angel, but you did it anyways. This means I’m not doing my job correctly. You’re falling out of line.”

Your mouth fell open and close, trying to find words. “I don’t-”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” He raised a brow. “You’re going to be punished, you understand?”

Your pussy pounded, heart racing, blood rushing. The thrill of excitement went straight to your core. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He repeated. “No. You address me as sir during your punishment, got it?” He lifted your chin, raising a brow.

You quickly nodded. “Yes. Oh, I mean- yes, sir.”

He nodded in approval, patting his knee. “Then get over my knee.”

You looked down at his thighs, then back up to him, unsure. You couldn’t move. Nerves paralyzing you. When your breathing got loud, Eddie frowned.

“Hey,” He grabbed your hand. “You alright?”

“Yes.” You nodded quickly. “Sorry- just, nervous, I guess.” You chuckled awkwardly, brushing away your hair.

“Take a breath.” He rubbed your back. “We don’t have to do anything, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No,” Your eyes widened. “No, I- I want to,” You assured, grabbing his wrist. You knew if Eddie got to thinking about it too much, he’d be too worried to continue. You needed to take action.

“I’ve been bad, Eddie.” You said as confidently as you could. “I think I need to be punished.”

His face drew darker, lips curling. “You have.” He agreed. “Think we should take care of it?” He held out his hand for you to take.

You slipped your hand into his, allowing him to pull you over his lap, your torso flush against his lap. Your hair fell over your face, the blood rushing to your skull.

“Comfortable?” He patted your back.

“Yes, sir.” Your words made him smile.

He looked down to your backside, rubbing his hands over your shorts. “I can’t punish you with your shorts on, honey.”

You were sure he could feel you throbbing against his thighs. “Take them off.” You said bashfully.

He chuckled at your meekness, pulling down your shorts to find you bare. He gave your flesh a little love tap, warming you up. “You tell me to stop if you need to, alright? This is new for you, baby, don’t overwhelm yourself.”

You nodded. “Yes, sir, I won’t.”

He warmed your skin, littered with goosebumps, rubbing the fat of your ass with his hands, squeezing and pulling. You had to clamp your mouth shut from moaning, already becoming a mess all over again. You were always so sensitive. Eddie always used it to his advantage.

“I’m going to start.” He announced. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

The first smack was light, startling you with a tiny gasp. The second one, still gentle, warming you up. The third was on the opposite cheek, a little harder, but not much. You had to force yourself not to grind yourself on his jeans, your pussy throbbing with such a need.

“Shit,” You cursed, turning into a yelp when he spanked you hard.

“Language,” He said sternly, rubbing the skin he assaulted. “We don’t talk like that, remember? Trying to make you my good little girl again.”

The fourth and fifth spank was harder, enough to draw sounds from you. Six and seven came quick, making you breath heavy, anticipating the next. You were throbbing so hard it was hard to think clearly, a small burn on your backside starting to grow. You moaned when he spanked you again, full handed, lower where the skin met your thigh.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying this, sweetheart.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “This is a punishment.”

You jumped when his hand dipped between your legs, trailing his fingers through your slit. You let out a loud, desperate moan that made him chuckle. “This really get you going, huh?” He pushed his fingers inside of you, making you squeal, lurching up from his lap.

“Oh, god!” You cried out, being pushed back down by his hand. “God, Eddie,”

“Hush.” He smacked your ass hard, continuing to finger you.

You shoved your hand in your mouth as he quickly finger fucked you, giving you no time to adjust to his fingers. He had his way with you, entering his digits in and out with a loud squelch. You cried into your hand, rocking yourself back and forth into his fingers. He worked you up until you were close to coming, pulling away before you could. “Bad girls don’t get to cum.” He said sternly, landing two harsh smacks on your ass, continuing with your punishment.

The peak of your orgasm faded away quickly and you sobbed, yelping and jumping as his hand came down harder on your skin. It really wasn’t bad. You knew he wasn’t using his full strength, but your sensitivity was making everything more heightened. Your need for him stronger.

“Are you learning anything?” He switched from cheek to cheek, alternating in steady, rhythmic movements.

“Yes!” You sobbed, your belly flip flopping.

“What?”

“I need to be a good girl.” Your orgasm was coming back just as quick just from the spanking itself. You were going to cum right on his lap. “Fuck, Eddie, I’m gonna cum.” You reached down to squeeze his ankle. “Spank me,”

He told you not to, but the idea of you coming just from him spanking you? He was hard as bricks. “Fuck.” He cursed, adjusting his hold on you before bringing his hand down again hard. Your whole body tensed on his lap as he spanked you, but the rhythm of the music that left your mouth told him he was doing a good job. “Fucking cum on my lap.” He husked. “Be my good little girl again.”

One more smack down towards your core sent you over the edge. You let out a wail, a shrill gasp that made him stop immediately, thinking he had hurt you. You convulsed on top of him, weeping and sweating as your body wracked with shakes of overstimulation and excitement.

“Oh, god,” You panted, fisting at his ankle. You were completely fucked out of it. Your vision was blurry and your head pounded, body shaking so hard that you thought you could hear your bones shaking.

“Baby?” You could hear him say. “Are you alright?” He grabbed your arm, trying to lift you so he could see your face. “Come on, honey, talk to me.”

You could feel how hard he was against your side, but your pussy was sore from having his fingers lodged up inside of you, too sensitive, but you wanted him anyways. With shaky limbs you crawled off his lap and sank to floor, looking up to him with a ruined face. “Am I good girl again, daddy?” You blinked through wet lashes.

He quickly fumbled with his belt, already struggling to keep his cool. “Fuck, yeah, you are, honey.”

You sat up to wrap your lips around his cock as soon as it was free. He gasped, leaning back on his elbows as he watched you. Your makeup was all over your face, snotty and slobbering. Your tongue swiped at the sides and the base of his cock, your hands coming up to massage his balls. He jumped, trembled in your grasp as he bucked his hips into your mouth. “Ah- god, good girl,” He praised. “Such a good girl. Took your spanking so well for me, didn’t you?”

You gagged around him as he sat up, grabbing the back of your head as he wracked his fingers through your hair. He thrusted just hips gently into your mouth, letting out a load moan that made your tired pussy flutter to life. “Fuck, fuck,” He chanted, his own orgasm building in his abdomen. “You gonna take my cum down your throat, huh? You gonna do that for daddy? Be my good- ah, oh- god, good little girl?”

He praised you as he came, shooting his load in your mouth with a quick flex of his hips. You gargled around him, your strings of saliva drooling out of your mouth. When you swallowed and let go of his cock, he collapsed on the bed where you joined him.

You both laid side by side. Teary eyes and flushed faces, ruined makeup and his cum leaking down your neck, a drop you had missed. And your ass incredibly sore, but buzzing with a sense of something new and exciting. The both of you are too fucked out to say anything, so you just grabbed his hand.

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson x you

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