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bunny584 · 2 months

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OBSESSED: GETO (PT. II)

A/N: I…guys this one is…dirty. For so many reasons. I don’t. I can’t look myself in the eye. Suguru made me do it 😅

C/W: Voyeurism, Mature themes, 18+ (Part I here)

Music inspo: This is SO Chase Atlantic coded

Acceptance.

They say the first step to recovery from addiction is acceptance.

Fine, then.

Suguru Geto’s addiction to you is absolute. And he has no interest in recovery.

He’s accepted it. You own him.

Granted, he didn’t realize just how tight your leash is. Not until last night.

Suguru is a logical, reasonable, creature of habit. He doesn’t need much. Really, he doesn’t.

But fucking you to sleep nightly is non-negotiable.

Or rather, fucking his hand. While watching you watch TV. And swirl a glass of Pinot noir in your gorgeous mouth. With your graceful fingers mindlessly swimming in a bowl of popcorn.

Extra butter. With tons and TONS of salt!

The first time you ordered your side snack at the movie theatre, Suguru almost keeled over.

But then he made the glorious mistake of flickering over to you, mid movie. Just as your index finger slid between those pillow soft lips. Pulling remnants of salt and butter away, leaving a trail of lip gloss behind.

He could’ve sucked it off your finger right there and then.

The way you pistoned in and out of your mouth. Doe-eyed and trained on the screen. Not a thought in your head. It was his gateway drug.

The butterfly effect.

A moment in time that rerouted fate.

His excruciatingly beautiful, platonic best friend, now a visceral need.

And just like any addiction. There were stages.

Denial: He doesn’t see you that way. No, of course not. His mind just got caught in a horny spiral. He’ll snap out of it. Things will go back to normal.

Anger: How could you do this to him? You know how disorienting you are. That smile. Always looking up at him with puppy eyes and parted lips. You’re a cocktease. Begging. Pleading. Needing him to debase you to nothing. Is that it? You want him to ruin you, don’t you? And he could. Fuck you into next week. Until you’re screaming and crying. He’d smear those tears all over his cock and fuck them back into your pouty mouth. It’s what you deserve.

Shame: It’s perverse. You call to vent about your day. He rubs himself raw while you talk. You kiss his cheek. His dick leaks. How could he do this to someone who trusts him like you do?

It was a vicious, muddled cycle. He could barely function around you.

Rushed greetings. Kurt words. Clipped responses. Avoidance.

He had to protect you from his depraved thoughts. Shield you from sordid actions taken in the dark — as if they would spontaneously materialize in the light to harm you.

And they did. But in the opposite way Suguru intended.

“Hey, HEY! Suguru, what the hell is up with you?”

You squeezed his wrist with all your might. It felt like nothing. But the weight in your tone hit him like a freight train.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been distant."

“I’ve been right here.”

“You’ve been distant, Suguru.”

Quartz showers streamed down your beautiful face and his cock quivered. Drooling along his thigh. So. Fucking. Pretty when you cry.

Did you know?

How irresistible you looked?

Glassy eyes. Trembling lips. Vulnerable. Soft enough to hunt.

Did you know?

How he clawed his palm bloody to keep from gripping your neck. Shoving you to your knees. And giving you a reason to whine his name like that again.

“Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“I have to go—“

“I don’t care!”

“Wha—“

“I don’t care!! I don’t care what it is okay? I just…I miss..I miss my best friend.”

You elevated off your heels. No where near eye level, but enough to cradle his face in your dainty hands.

And God dammit. He might as well have been wearing a dog tag with your name on it.

If lost, return to Owner.

Between your misty eyes. Swollen lips. Face like a canvas to paint with his cum. He bit back a pathetic groan. And choked out an apology.

Most importantly, he made a promise to never hollow out your friendship like that again.

So, instead he fills it. With ropes of his arousal. And fuck, it’s rhapsody.

The stages. The anger, disbelief, shame…it was worth it. Because this ecstasy? It’s sublime.

Constant ascension. Never once reaching cruising altitude.

…which made the fall agonizing.

Last night, in a sick, twisted turn of fate - his camera feed cut off.

One minute Suguru is pumping into his abused rubber cocksleeve. Sliding his eyes up and down your hips until he was dizzy in the head. Pre cum squelching out of the little space between his cock and the ring of his 5th battered toy. Unintelligible praises leaking out of him, cementing his devotion. And just as the curtains began to fall on his vision. Balls heavy and hot with his seed—

Then he saw nothing.

Suguru couldn’t recognize the man in his room last night. Fingers aching. Mind racing. Dick red, angry, pulsating for its one and only vice.

Alarm bells rang between his ears. Crash landing into an abyss. Mayday.

Mayday.

In that moment. He knew he needed more. More skin. More angles. More you.

And so, he’s standing outside your Pilates studio @ 7:28 PM. Two minutes until you’re done.

A Dragonfruit smoothie rests in his hand.

And a new camera system rests in his back pocket.

———

“Ugh, I needed that.”

You sling a cold eucalyptus towel around your neck.

“And I need him.” The comment emanates from one of your girlfriends. Both of you rounding the corner out of the studio.

Suguru.

You don’t have to look out the glass windows to know exactly who she is referring to.

“I mean, seriously. How can you not climb him like a—“

“Stop it!!” Your protest made less believable because of your sheepish giggles.

“We’re just friends.” You mutter. Pulling your gym bag out of the front lockers.

Yeah, who are you trying to convince? Her? Or yourself?

Your eyes flicker to your platonic, gorgeous best friend. Raven mane in a glossy, high ponytail. Freely cascading down his back. Curly wisps framing his razor sharp angles.

He stands tall. So Muscular. Quietly masculine. Despite how dreamy his hair is.

“Omg! Your hair!! Whats your routine?” - every woman who meets him, ever.

“Genetics.”

Suguru responds the same way every time with a dimpled smile. The other party is always immediately caught in his web.

His eyes. They lure you in like quicksand. Onyx. Swarming with grey and violet specks. Stormy. Perpetually faraway.

He’s the perfect gentleman. But always a little bit above it all. Just out of reach.

It’s mesmerizing.

You can’t blame the women for trying any and everything for a tiny piece.

Suguru catches your gaze. Silky smile pulls across his lips. He beckons you with one swirl of the liquid gold in his hands.

“What are you doing here, pretty boy?”

“Happy to see you too.” He counters with a low chuckle.

You coax the sweet treat away from him. It’s precisely what you need.

Suguru always has his pulse on you. Somehow he knows where to be and when. Every time.

“Mmm” your eyes flutter shut. Savoring the sickly sweet, cold mush on your tongue.

“Exactly what you wanted?”

“Exactly. Have I told you I love you lately?”

“Not nearly enough.” His baritone hovers over you. Traveling down your spine at light speed.

Has he always sounded this sultry?

You lazily pull yourself out of the sugar-induced dopamine hit.

Suguru moves into you like a storm cloud. Accentuating the comical difference in stature. The world around you slowly dissipates.

Lost in the desert mirage of his gaze. Everything feels conscious.

Your shallow breathing. The thrum of blood surging through your vessels. Heart rattling against its bony cage.

Time stops.

Then it happens all at once.

Before you know what is happening, your best friend’s well built arm is around your waist. His large, veiny hand palming the nape of your neck.

His lips. His plump rosy lips are on yours. Sweet and warm. Pulling, pushing, melding with you into play dough.

He’s delicious.

More delectable than you knew possible.

“Mmmgh” You moan and Suguru takes the space to push his tongue into your mouth. He’s blinding. Expertly tickling the ridges and corners of your mouth. As if to show off just how skilled he is with his tongue.

“S-Suguru..”

He pulls away far before you’re ready. Shocking you out of your lusty daze. For a moment he just rests his moist lips on yours. Exchanging breaths between each other. As if only you two are the source of oxygen around you.

“Wha…what was..”

“There’s a guy burning a crater into your back.” He finally responds. Gruff. Strained. You’ve never seen him without a tight leash around his self-command.

“I didn’t want him thinking he has a chance.”

And just like that, the familiar tame control lines his velvet baritone.

Suguru places a chaste kiss on your cheek before starting to walk in the direction of your apartment. As if the world didn’t just tilt on its axis.

You’re able to maintain a fairly normal conversation with your best friend the entire walk back to your apartment. You both laugh and joke as if he didn’t just fuck your mouth with his tongue. And as if you didn’t feel drunk off of it.

You’re just friends.

…right?

You toss your keys somewhere to your left. In the periphery you see Suguru smile and shake his head. Well aware of your messy tendencies. He leans down to take your keys and place them on the door hook.

The devil on your shoulder is deafening.

Test it.

Test him.

Your hand moves before your mind.

Your fingers hook under your sports bra. Pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. Before your mounds bounce in full view, your arm cups them against your chest.

You turn to Suguru, now topless.

“Gonna hop in the shower for a little. Are you staying for dinner?” Willing your voice to be steady and light. A casual question amidst the mayhem in your mind.

And, as expected, Suguru is the perfect gentleman.

His olive tone is even. Hands slotting into his athletic pants. Faint smile tracing on his lips, dimple apparent in his left cheek.

His eyes don’t falter below your neckline. Not even for a moment.

“Not tonight, pretty. There’s a show I want to catch. Rain check?”

Of course, you’re just friends.

Best friends.

You flash him a genuine smile. Swallowing the nagging flecks of dissappointnent beginning to weave itself within you.

“Rain check!”

And maybe 10 or so minutes after soaking in your steamy shower. Trying to wash the remnants of his kiss out of your memory, you hear your door slamming shut.

You make a mental note to ask about what show he was referring to.

———

Whiskey glides hot and cold down Suguru’s throat.

Back flushed against his desk chair.

Patiently awaiting his 10:00 PM viewing.

His dick is a steel rod. Blushing and moist. Draped in a pair of your used panties. He swiped them on his way out of your apartment.

Suguru drags his palm lazily up and down his shaft. Soaking your lingerie in beads of pre cum. It’s like he’s feeling you rubbing your plush cunt up and down his rod.

Fog is settling opaque in his mind. While he pets the flame stirring between his legs.

You haven’t even come into frame yet. But Suguru admires the pristine view he has of your room. Porcelain duvet messily strewn about. Half open night stand. Magenta vibrator propped against the corner of your drawer.

How often do you touch yourself?

What do you think about?

How pretty do you sound? When you milk pleasure from your dewy core?

“Fuck,” Suguru hisses.

He brings the whiskey glass back to his parted lips. The thought of seeing you work yourself to a peak drove his hand up and down his cock too fast. If he’s not careful he’ll cum before he’s ready.

No.

Not tonight.

Tonight he wants to savor his relapse.

24 hours sober of you was unbearable. He deserves this indulgence.

Suguru tilts his chin up. Damp hair feathering his shoulders and back feels refreshingly cool against the lava circulating beneath his skin.

“You like teasing me don’t you?” He murmurs, slowly pumping his cock through his strained grip.

The way you pulled off your sports bra. Well before you reached your bathroom door. Pretty bedroom eyes raking his face. Testing him. You knew he would go home and feverishly fuck his fist for you. Didn’t you?

A siren’s melody pulls his hazy, dazed attention back to screen.

“There she is.”

Suguru leans closer to his screens. Giving himself kudos for choosing a camera system with audiovisual integration this time around.

You step in full view of his camera and his body stills. Completely statuesque. Mouth ajar. His cock drool dribbling down his stiff hand is the only source of movement in the room.

“Fuck…fucking hell.”

There you stood. Thong as richly colored as the wine in your glass. Accentuating the dramatic dip and swell of your pretty waist and hips. The wavy lines from your slender shoulders to your full tits are enough to make him seasick. Your nipples are so hard. Puffier than he imagined.

You are immaculate.

A divine being. Heaven’s incarnate.

And even if you weren’t. Even if you were the devil. He’d follow you to the depth of hell.

A thick surge of pre cum flicking back against his lower abs pulls him briefly out of his trance. Suguru didn’t realize how hard he was strangling his length. Which is violently jerking in haphazard directions.

Begging for its real owner.

Suguru drags in a deep breath. Reluctantly unraveling his needy hand away from his manhood. Another sip of icy brown liquor.

Savor this.

As if your souls are tied, you take a sip of red wine before settling in your bed. Back against your head board. Feet planted on your plush duvet. You let your knees fall to the side and Suguru nearly drools on himself.

A blooming rose.

Presenting your swollen, misty petals to him for worship. His eyes drop to your core. A thin line of fabric laid so perfectly between your folds.

Suguru has to remind himself that you aren’t in front of him.

And he can’t just dive into your dewy cunt. And nuzzle against your bud. And lap up the honey in between your folds.

You rest your head against the wall. Exposing the delicate lines of your neck. His left hand magnets back to his cock. His right hits the record function on the screen.

You are too special not to capture.

But, even if he couldn’t record you on this system, every moment right now is etched into his mind for an eternity.

Especially the way your dainty fingers travel down your chest, along your torso, beneath the hem of your panties and settle over your clit.

“That’s it, princess.” Suguru chants beneath his clipped breaths. Dragging your soaked underwear along his messy shaft.

He matches his pace to your tiny circles. Small, gorgeous pants tumble out of you.

Your other hand palms at your tits. Pinching and pulling at your pert nipples. Your hips buck at the sweet pleasure and pain.

“Good girl”

His arousal continues to collect at his base, trickling to his inner thighs. The sound of his hilt slamming into his hand fill the room.

“God. S..Suguru…”

His name thunders between his ears.

His name wrapped in that melodic, lusty falsetto of yours.

Suguru’s brain can barely register the way your tits bounce in rhythm with your hands. Pistoning your fingers in and out of your sweet cunt. Ascending to euphoria. He can barely register the way your lips are swollen and abused from your teeth. Or the light sheen of sweat along your collarbones.

“Fuck, Suguru please..” you moan. Both hands now working your flower.

Suguru is slack jawed. Completely short circuited. He cannot move.

Unblinking, he studies you. Hands at his side. Cock spearing high in the air, leaking.

His mind is flooded with the thin, featherlight moans and whines. Sticky arousal leaks from your needy opening around your fingers. Coating your inner thighs. How you twist and groan away from your own pleasure - so clearly overstimulated but not stopping your fingers, anyway.

“Say my name, pretty girl. Say my name.” Suguru rasps out. Sharp pain lightening through him from the dryness in his throat.

And you do. You moan his name when you reach nirvana. Heaving and whining and squirming in your mess. You called for him.

“God, I’m disgusting.”

You laugh through the remnants of your high and bury yourself under the duvet. Lazily tapping the bedside lamp. Bringing Suguru’s private viewing to an end.

And his smile is vulturous.

Suguru’s hand runs the length of his insatiable cock. Slow, lazy strokes. Haphazard twitches pushing out globs of cum. Begging for an encore.

You think you’re disgusting?

Ohhh, sweet girl.

You don’t know the half of it.

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martiniluvr · 2 months

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IDK if requests are open but i NEED a Jason Todd hc as a dad

Love yaaa

🎧

they absolutely are ESPECIALLY for dad!jason omg… headcanons under the cut 🩷

also my first emoji anon hi ily 🥹

minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

jason todd never thought he’d be a father, but now that he is one, he can’t imagine life any other way.

I know in my heart of hearts he’s a girl dad. just picture it. everything about it makes sense.

she inherits his little white streak, and it’s his favourite thing in the world.

he’s determined to be the father he always wanted needed. he’s loving, affectionate, gentle, and fiercely protective of his little girl. from the first time he holds her as a newborn, he knows he’d kill die for her.

there’s no request he can deny his child. donuts after breakfast? of course, he’ll have one too. flashy cartoons before bed? absolutely. playing hair salon before school? he’s dropping her off with butterfly clips still in his white streak.

one day, you get a call from the school about an incident in class that started with a boy breaking her barbie pencil and ended in a bloody nose.

“my daddy told me it’s okay to punch mean people! he says he does it all the time at work.” oops.

you glare at jason, but he can’t hide the proud smile on his face. you apologise profusely to the teacher, ensuring this will be dealt with. as you leave the school, though, jason takes your daughter’s small hand in his, giving it an encouraging squeeze, and you know you can’t be mad for long.

there will come a day when you both have to contend with the challenges of adolescence—prom, parties, mood swings, driving. jason will have to meet her first boyfriend, and he won’t be able to hide his disapproving scowl.

for now, though, you take in the sight of one of gotham’s most feared vigilantes and the pigtailed little girl tugging at his sleeve. he bends down so she can whisper in his ear, and then turns to look at you with a grin. “I think rainbow ice cream sounds great, doll. whaddya think, ma?”

sigh…dad!jason you live in my heart 🫶

#martiniluvr’s asks #🎧 anon #jason todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd headcanon #dad!jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood fluff #red hood headcanon #red hood x reader #red hood x you #dc comics #batman #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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Love Comes Walking In - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie didn’t want to go to prom, until he wanted to go with Chrissy. You wanted to go to prom, but not if Eddie is going to go with Chrissy. But above everything, you want Eddie to be happy.

Note: this whole thing mostly came about because I wanted to write the one scene with Dustin. You’ll know the one.

Words: 6k

Eddie teasing you was nothing new. His lighthearted jabs about your skirt making you look preppy or having sleepy eye boogers first thing in the morning roll off your back, occasionally even making you laugh along. But when he teases you about wanting to go to prom, that gets under your skin.

Wanting one special night to wear a pretty gown with glowing makeup and neatly styled hair didn’t sound stupid to you. To your best friend, it seemed like torture. The whole school year Eddie would rag on you about buying into the whole conformist commercialism that you thought of as a rite of passage. That makes it even worse when he suddenly changes his tune just a week before the dance.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jeff complains.

Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just because I changed my mind doesn’t mean I’m ridiculous,” he argues.

“You changed your mind because of a girl!” Gareth shouts.

Jabbing your green beans with your plastic fork, you stay silent as the boys bicker back and forth. Part of you was also afraid to open your mouth, unsure of what would come out.

“You say that like I’d go to prom with any girl,” Eddie snaps. “I’m not saying I’m going, I’m saying I would go with Chrissy.”

The fork is clutched so hard in your hand that you think it’s going to snap in half.

“What’s wrong with wanting to go with anyone?” Jeff asks.

Eddie waves a dismissive hand at him and wrinkles his face up in distaste, not bothering to give a verbal response.

“Hypocrite,” you mumble under your breath.

“I am not.” Eddie stares at you and your head jerks up in surprise that he heard you.

“Yes, you are,” you say. “You’ve made fun of me all year for wanting to go and now because you have a crush, it’s different? Bullshit.”

“I changed my mind,” Eddie reiterates.

“Fine,” you say with a huff. It’s not worth arguing with him over.

“Maybe you should apologize,” Dustin suggests softly.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Come on, you have been on her ass about it all year,” Dustin says.

“Thanks, Dustin,” you say. “But it’s fine.”

Eddie opens his mouth, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. Chair legs scraping against the floor, you push your seat back and stand up from the table. The guys all watch as you leave, dumping your tray in the trash before stalking out of the cafeteria.

Arguments with Eddie rarely happened. They’re so rare that neither of you know how to react when you next see each other. Are you still fighting? Has it been long enough where you both can pretend like nothing ever happened? There’s no chance to talk to one another in your shared algebra class the next day, so it wasn’t until lunch that you really came face to face. Eddie’s at the table before you, and you plop down in your usual seat next to him.

“We cool?” Eddie asks as you’re in the middle of lifting a forkful of mac and cheese to your open mouth.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, eyeing him over your full fork. “I guess.”

“Good.” He slouches down in his seat, as if he can relax now that he knows you’re on good terms. “Oh shit, here I got you something.” Eddie reaches into his metal lunchbox and pulls out a Three Musketeers bar. “Band kids are selling candy, so I bought your favorite for you. Hide it before Henderson gets here or he’ll steal it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a grin. This was exactly the reason why your feelings for Eddie would never go away. Just when he pisses you off to the point where you swear you’re never going to sit with him at lunch again, he turns around and does something sweet and thoughtful without expecting anything in return.

“Breaking news, losers,” Gareth says as he drops his tray on the table. “I have a prom date.”

“Well shit, I guess hell has frozen over,” Mike says as he and Dustin join the rest of you.

“You’re not a senior,” Jeff points out.

“No, but my date is.” Gareth’s smirk is enough to earn an eye roll from both you and Eddie.

“Who’s that desperate?”

Gareth throws a French fry at you - which you dodge - before he answers.

“Calling Kel desperate?”

“What?” you almost screech. “How are you going with one of the sweetest girls at school?”

“I’m super cool,” he says, making the rest of you bust out in laughter.

“But seriously,” Jeff says.

“You’re all assholes,” Gareth says before digging into his food. “At least I have a date.”

Eddie goes to reply, but you’re afraid of what he’s going to say, so you scoop up your backpack and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once you step out of the cafeteria, you roll out your neck and shoulders, trying not to think of Eddie back in there talking about prom with the guys. You push the girl’s bathroom door open and breathe a sigh of relief when you’re the only one in there. Dropping your bag on the floor between your feet, you lean forward on one of the sinks and look at yourself in the mirror. A few deep breaths later, you feel your body relax. It’s short lived, however, when the door squeaks open on old hinges and two cheerleaders step in.

You feel bad for the guttural reaction you have to seeing Chrissy’s blonde ponytail swinging behind you in the mirror. She is a complete sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but the jealous green-eyed monster rears its ugly head and your fingers dig into the cool porcelain.

“It really sucks,” the other cheerleader says to Chrissy. You know you’ve seen her around, but you don’t know her name. Both cheerleaders park at the sinks next to you to touch up their makeup. Chrissy throws you a bright smile and a friendly wave before taking her lip gloss out and turning back towards her friend.

“I know,” Chrissy says. “I knew we were going to break up, but I was hoping for it to be after prom. How am I supposed to find a new date in a week?”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that,” her friend assures her.

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says with a sigh. “Everyone probably has their dates by now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your pulse is raging in your ears and sweat is starting to make your hands slip against the sink. The internal debate rages inside of you. Do you let your jealousy get in the way of something that will make Eddie happy? It would throw away any shot you had of going to prom with Eddie yourself - but you know that was a long shot anyway.

Still undecided, you take a step back from the sink, and your backpack falls over. You bend down to pick it up and the Three Musketeer bar falls out. It feels like your gaze should melt the chocolate that’s laying before you. Damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness at buying you the stupid candy. You toss it back in your bag, wincing as you prepare self-destruction.

“Hey, Chrissy,” you say.

She turns to you with a smile, putting the top back on her lip gloss.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“I, uh, didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” you say as you slide your backpack on. You can’t manage to look her in the eyes as you speak. “But I know someone who doesn’t have a date yet.”

“You do?” She perks up in interest and the souring of your stomach almost keeps you from going further.

“Yeah.” It sounds painful coming out of your mouth and you hope neither cheerleader notices. “Um, Eddie? Eddie Munson.”

“Really?” her friend asks. She crosses her arms over her chest and juts a hip out. You’re two seconds away from smacking the snotty look off her face when Chrissy speaks up.

“Eddie is great,” Chrissy says, looking over her shoulder at her friend before looking back at you. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Think he’ll say yes if I ask him?”

“I do.” Those two words were almost the hardest to get out. It was killing you how much of an understatement it was.

“Okay!” The eagerness in her voice makes you want to cry. There’s no way you’ll be able to face Eddie back in there.

“You can, um, ask him now if you want,” you say with a shrug. With a deep breath, you head towards the bathroom door. You stop halfway out the door and turn back around. “Oh, if Eddie asks,” you say, doubting he would because he’d be too consumed by the fact that his dreams were coming true, “can you just tell him I wasn’t feeling well and left?”

“No problem.” Her brow furrows in concern and she takes a step towards you. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” It’s the biggest lie you’ve told in a while. “Cramps.” You put your hand to your lower abdomen and Chrissy gives you a sympathetic nod.

“Feel better!”

Without answering her, you walk out of the bathroom and down the hall, to the school exit. As soon as you slide into your car, the tears start. They start pouring so heavily and your hands shake so badly that you can’t put your key in the ignition. Momentarily giving up, you drop the keys in your lap and drop your head down to the steering wheel.

Giving yourself enough time to get the worst of it out, you pull back and use your sleeves to wipe down your face. With a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to center yourself. After a few breaths in and out, in and out, you’re able to get the keys in the ignition on the first try. You pull your car out of the parking lot and head towards your house. The conversation you had with Chrissy keeps going through your head and you can’t keep from picturing the euphoric look that will be on Eddie’s face when she asks him. The saving grace you’re holding on to is the fact that Chrissy immediately defended Eddie to her friend. There aren’t many people in the school who would do that.

Luckily, no one is home when you get to your house and you’re able to go inside and sulk in peace in your bed. More tears leak out as you hug your pillow to your chest. You must end up falling asleep because the persistent ringing of your doorbell jolts you awake sometime later. Heart racing from the adrenaline, you pull yourself out of bed and drag yourself to the front door.

Eddie’s standing on the other side and it’s the first time his smile has ever broken your heart.

“You are the best!” He swoops into your house and wraps you up in his arms. “Oh shit, sorry. I forgot, Chrissy said you’re having some girl pains.”

Right.

“They’re better now that I’ve rested,” you say. “And you don’t have to thank me. Just doing what a good friend would do, right?”

“The best friend in the world!” He takes your head in his hands and presses a loud smacking kiss to your forehead. His happiness is infectious and despite your foul mood, a small smile curls on your mouth.

“Now,” he says, taking both of his hands in yours. “We have to find a date for you.”

“Oh.” Your face drops and you shake your head. “I’m not going to go.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that Eddie would still be thinking about how you wanted to attend prom. The idea of his own perfect date should’ve been occupying his whole brain, but damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness.

“What?” Eddie immediately frowns and it tugs at your heart. It tempts you to tell him you’ll go, but the mental image of Eddie dressed up and dancing with a flawless-as-usual Chrissy makes you bite your tongue.

“You were right before,” you tell him. “It’s dumb and there’s shitty music. Plus, the dresses are way too expensive.” The dress you planned on wearing was already in your closet, but Eddie didn’t need to know that.

“Are you sure?” Eddie dips his head down to meet your eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly.

“Yeah,” you tell him.

“I’m going to miss you there,” he says, and you almost slip up and laugh out loud at his statement.

“Oh please, you’ll be having way too much fun to notice I’m not there.”

“Like that could happen,” Eddie says with a skeptical look.

You don’t bother arguing with him, even though you know he’s wrong.

On your way to the cafeteria the next day, you can’t bring yourself to walk in. You know if you do then you’re just going to be hearing about plans for prom and you don’t trust yourself not to break down in tears in front of everyone. There was no way you could avoid the guys entirely until prom, but you couldn’t face them today. Eddie doesn’t want to be with you. He wants to be with Chrissy. And you have to make yourself seem okay with that somehow. Just not today.

There’s a vending machine on the way to the gym, so you pick up a bag of crackers and a bottle of coke. The gymnasium is empty, so you take a seat on the bottom row of bleachers and start to eat your sad little lunch. It’s easy to let your mind wander, so you try to redirect it away from where it wants to go. Usual calming fantasies revolve around Eddie in some way, but that’s out of the question right now.

Your mind can’t stray far from Eddie though, so you let your mind divulge in a little dark fantasy as you eat. What would happen if you just ran away? What would happen if you just threw some clothes in a bag and bolted? You would never actually do it, but imagining Eddie being sad over you leaving brings you a sick sort of comfort. Because he would miss you. You know he loves you, it’s just not in the same way that you wish.

As you crumble up your wrapper in your hand, the gym door opens and a familiar hat over tousled curls walks in. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, as he walks your way with his hands in his pockets. Sneakers squeak across the shiny floor and come to a sudden halt as he stops in front of you.

Dustin dips his chin down and raises his eyes to look at you. He takes one hand out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

“Yes?” you ask, looking between his eyes and his hand.

“I know what you did for Eddie,” he says. “We all know. Except for him, he’s an idiot. But it really was a nice thing to do. I never could’ve done it.”

“Thanks,” you say skeptically, unsure of where he was going with this.

“He told us you said you don’t want to go to prom. I know that’s bullshit. So,” he says, bringing his hand back and extending it to you again, “I am asking you if I may take you to the prom.”

Your eyes immediately well with tears as you look up at the boy in front of you. Dustin was always one of the sweetest people you knew, but this was taking it to a whole other level.

“Oh, Dustin,” you say. You take his hand and tug his arm until he’s sitting on the bleacher next to you. “That is the sweetest offer I’ve gotten in my entire life. But I can’t go to prom.”

Dustin sighs and nods his head.

“Can’t see them together?” he asks.

“Correct.”

He wraps his arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, everyone knows, huh?” you ask.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you stare at Eddie a lot.”

The laughter that bubbles out of you is so unexpected that you bring your hand up to cover your mouth.

“I know,” you admit. “I do.”

“And you look at him differently than you look at anyone else,” he says.

“Like he’s an idiot?” you ask and Dustin chuckles.

“No, I think we all look at him that way.”

You sigh and pick your head up from Dustin’s shoulder. You pat his arm and give him a grateful smile.

“Dustin Henderson, you are the best. And if I were going to go to the prom with anybody at all, it would be you.”

“Well, when I go to my senior prom, I hope I go with someone half as awesome as you.”

That makes the tears spill over and you hastily wipe them off your cheeks.

“God, I love you.” You throw your arms around his neck and give him the tightest hug you’ve given anyone in a while. He chuckles as he hugs you back.

“Who doesn’t?”

The night of prom comes, and you stand in your kitchen, alone in the house and in your comfiest sweats, making cookie dough. Screw warnings of not eating raw eggs, you were making this dough to eat, not cook. The last few days at school you went back to eat lunch with the guys but used a fake sore throat as an excuse for staying quiet and distant. You really only needed to fool Eddie though, since the other guys knew what was really going on with you.

You take the bowl of cookie dough into the living room and set it down as you flip through the VHS tapes you’d rented earlier in the day. Steve had known about you not going to prom because, of course he did, Dustin tells him everything. You assured him it wasn’t a big deal, just wanting to get out with your movies.

Settling on The Outsiders because you could stare at Rob Lowe all day, you pop the tape in and settle on the couch with your favorite blankets and your bowl of cookie dough. You can only eat about a quarter of the dough before your stomach has had enough. It sits on the table in front of you as you watch the rest of the movie. It’s not even eleven by the time the movie’s over but you don’t feel up to sitting through another one. You take the bowl of cookie dough back into the kitchen and stick it in the refrigerator. Thoughts of what’s happening at the prom have been trying to jam their way into your brain all night, but without the movie to distract you, those thoughts finally break in. Is there a slow song playing right now? Are Eddie’s hands on her hips or is one wrapped around her back while the other holds her hand? Is he having a good time? Are they playing any music that he likes? What did he end up wearing? You know you’ll end up seeing pictures but you’re not looking forward to seeing how pristine Chrissy is all dolled up when she’s naturally so beautiful on her own. Right now, you can imagine she’s wearing a garbage bag and her hair is all rolled up in curlers and her makeup looks like a clown’s. But once you see pictures, that illusion you’ve clung to will burst like a bubble in your heart.

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to try and stop the impending tears from falling. A few deep breaths and you get it under control. This heartbreak shit sucks.

Before heading up to your room, you grab a water bottle from the fridge and your blanket off the couch. On your nightstand is a small radio and you click it on so you won’t be alone in silence with just your thoughts for company. The sheets feel cold and crisp as you slide into them. Putting your blanket back on top of you, you curl up on your side and nuzzle your face into your pillow. The light’s still on in your room, but you didn’t feel like getting up to turn it off.

The dial on your radio must’ve gotten knocked at some point - which happened often as you fumbled with things on your nightstand constantly - because smooth jazz starts playing and you huff a laugh into your pillow. You weren’t moving to fix that, either. When your parents come home, if you’ve already fallen asleep, your mom will turn both the radio and light off for you.

But the jazz is actually more soothing the longer it plays. It calms your frayed nerves and helps you start to doze off, body finally giving in to the exhaustion you’ve been feeling from all the stress lately.

In your half-asleep state, you hear your parents come home. They’re not exactly quiet walking around downstairs, but they also probably didn’t expect you to be sleeping this early. The thudding of your mom’s heels coming up the stairs echoes in the quiet hallway, drifting into you even over the radio. The footsteps keep coming towards your room and you’re looking forward to the sweet darkness you’ve craved when your mom gets to your room. But the lights don’t turn off. Instead, the bed dips next to you and you feel someone lay down beside you.

She means well, you know, because she knew that you were bummed to miss prom, even if she didn’t know why. But the last thing you wanted right now was to have her try and talk to you about how you’re feeling. You know you’ll lose it and end up crying yet again. She stays quiet beside you though and you’re thankful for it.

“I know you’re not asleep.”

The deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open. Eddie’s laying down on his side, facing you, head propped up on his arm. He’s smiling at you. It’s the first thing you notice before your eyes travel down, taking in the suit he’s wearing. Partially a suit, anyway. He’s wearing nice black slacks, which you didn’t even know he owned, with a maroon button up shirt. No jacket, but you’re not sure if he had one on earlier or not. He’s still your Eddie though, because he has his pick necklace on and his many rings adorning his fingers.

“Look at you.” Your voice sounds a bit froggy between almost being asleep and all the crying you’ve done. “Not a stitch of denim in sight.”

Eddie chuckles. It sounds so nice. He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“Came by to see my best girl,” he says. Maybe he still says it out of habit, but you’re pretty sure you’ll be losing that title shortly.

“But prom,” you say, whinier than you intended to.

“It’s over,” he says.

You frown and crane your neck to see the clock on your dresser. The neon green tells you that it’s just after one in the morning. You must’ve dozed longer than you thought.

“How was it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the answer.

“Pretty much how I expected it to be.”

“Oh yeah?” The fake smile on your face is starting to feel second nature, and you hate it. “Everything you’d hoped?”

“No,” he says with a laugh. He shakes his head and twirls the ring on one of his middle fingers with his thumb. “I was right the first time. Shitty music. Horrible punch - which Principal Higgins was guarding like he was trying to keep the Huns from invading China. People at our school can’t dance for shit, myself included. And to top it all off, my favorite person wasn’t there.”

Your brow scrunches together and you sit up in bed.

“She stood you up?”

“What?” Eddie asks. When he realizes what you mean, he closes his eyes and smiles. “No, you dork. I meant you. You weren’t there.”

“Me?” you ask. The skepticism in your voice cuts right to Eddie’s heart. He frowns and scoots forward on the bed so he can rest his hand on your hip.

“Yes, you. You’re doubting that you’re my favorite person?”

“Well, kind of,” you say quietly.

“Why?” he asks, and his frown makes your heart plummet into your stomach.

“It’s just, you were so excited to go with Chrissy.”

“I was,” he admits. “But just because I had a crush on a girl doesn’t mean that you’re not still my number one.”

Had. The one word sticks in your mind and you know there are other things you should say, better things, but the question is burning your tongue so it has to come out.

“Had a crush?” you ask.

Eddie nods and rubs his thumb over your hip bone.

“Turns out a lot of crushes can go away quickly if you actually spend time with the person.”

“Did she say something? Do something?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply. “She’s great. There was just nothing to talk about after the first twenty minutes or so. She knows nothing about my interests, and I know nothing about hers.”

“Just didn’t click?” you ask.

“Yeah, exactly,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, mouth pursed in thought. “This is a horrible analogy, but it’s what came to mind. It’s like when a present is sitting there in front of you, and it’s wrapped beautifully. Ribbons and bows and all that jazz. You just stare at it and want it, imagining what kind of fun thing could be inside. Then, you finally get it, you can hold it in your hands. You open it and it’s a new shirt. It’s nice, but not what you were expecting. You don’t dislike the shirt, it’s just not the present you wanted.”

“Look at you with the metaphors,” you say with a smirk. “Senior English three times and you’re a full-on scholar now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and playfully squeezes the skin at your hip.

“I was being serious,” he says.

“I know. And I get it. You kissed a frog who didn’t turn into a princess.”

“And you thought I had an odd way of putting it,” Eddie says with a laugh. “But I didn’t even kiss her before I knew there was nothing there. Once the excitement wore off it was pretty boring, actually.”

“I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted,” you tell him honestly.

“I’ve always known the prom itself would suck. Just thought it might be fun with the right date. And it might’ve been, but I didn’t have that.” He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “I should’ve brought you.”

The tears are coming but you force them to hold their position. It’s hard not to yell at him that that’s what you’ve wanted all along. But there’s no point. Any begging or pleading before the prom wouldn’t have gotten him to agree to take you. So, instead of living in the ‘if you realized this sooner I could have gotten to go to my prom’, you let it go by and just appreciate the fact that he wishes he had gone with you instead of Chrissy.

“But I’ve had an idea,” Eddie says as he pushes himself off your bed.

“And what’s that?”

“Well,” he says as he walks over to your closet. “First things first, I’ve got to see what we’re working with here.”

“Why?” You scoot down to the foot of the bed to see what he’s doing more clearly. He’s going through your clothes, inspecting every piece, and deeming them unfit for whatever scheme he’s cooked up in his brain.

“You’ll see. Wait. Are you kidding me?” He reaches into the back of your closet and pulls out the gold dress that you had bought for prom. “You told me you didn’t get a dress!”

“How do you know I haven’t had that dress for a while?” But your blush won’t let you get away with the lie.

“Well for starters, the tag is still on it.” He brandishes it to you and you huff.

“Okay, yeah, yeah, I had a dress. But I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t think you’d end up riling through my closet anyway.”

“Put it on,” he says, tossing its hanger into your lap.

“I’m sorry, what?” The dress tries to slide from your lap to the floor, so you pull it up and lay it down on the bed next to you.”

“Put it on,” he says slower this time, as if that should clear up everything.

“Why?”

“Because I want to dance with you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I’d dance with you in your sweats, but I thought you might want to get all dolled up like me.” He smirks and runs his hands down the buttons of his maroon shirt.

“You want to dance with me?” Maybe you’re still asleep and this is all a dream.

“Yeah.” Again, he says it as if it’s something you do every day. His casual tone is making you think you’re the one who’s not making sense.

“Okay,” you say as you stand. “I guess I’ll go change.”

“This is your room,” Eddie says, heading to the door. “Change here, I’ll wait out here.” He walks into the hallway, closing your bedroom door behind him.

You slip the sweatpants down your legs and tug the sweatshirt off over your head. The single strapless bra you own is at the bottom of the drawer and you have to dig your way down to find it. The gold dress has a halter neckline so there’s no way you could wear a regular bra underneath. You squeeze the bra on, and even change your panties from blue ones with butterflies on it, to one of the few lace ones you own.

The dress unzips easily and glides down your body as you get situated. You can’t zip it yourself, but Eddie can do that for you. Most of the makeup you own is in the bathroom, but you can make do with the little bit sitting over on your dresser. Looking in the mirror, you do a soft layer of makeup and then inspect your hair. It strikes you as funny when you see yourself in a golden dress with makeup on, but total bedhead up on top. You yank the scrunchie out of your hair and shake your head to toss your hair around. It looks better but not great. Your eyes land on a silver hair clip dotted with pearls and you reach up to tuck some of your hair back and secure it with the pin. There. The look is done.

When you open your bedroom door you expect Eddie to be waiting there but you don’t see him. You stick your head into the hall and look both ways but see no metal head.

“Eddie?” you call.

“Coming!”

He jogs out of your dad’s office a few doors down, carrying a few sheets of paper. Eddie comes to a halt as he takes in your appearance. Heat blooms in your face as you watch Eddie scan every last detail of this ensemble.

“You look gorgeous,” he says. It’s enough to make you pass out, but you somehow stay standing firm.

“Thank you,” you say. “You look very handsome. Did I tell you that when you first got here?”

“No,” he says with a chuckle. “Just a remark about me not wearing any denim.”

“Which is truly a miracle. But you do look handsome. Very handsome.”

He smiles and takes steps towards you, paper still in his hands.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“I’m not very good at origami, but I did my best to turn this sheet of paper into a corsage.”

Your heart leaps at his words and it’s another battle of wills with your tears when Eddie slips his improvised flower on your wrist. Some tears win the battle, and they trail down your face. Luckily, you were smart enough to apply waterproof makeup.

“Eddie, this is…” you trail off, not having the words to express how you’re feeling.

“You wanted prom, so I’m giving you prom.” He takes both of your hands in his and guides you back into your bedroom. He closes the door behind him with his foot, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Can you zip me up?” you ask. He nods and you turn around. His hands against your back sends a shiver up your spine and goosebumps break out over your arms. You hear him chuckle and he trails the tips of his fingers over your shoulders as you turn back around.

“What’s with the smooth jazz?” Eddie can’t help but laugh at the saxophone solo coming in over the speakers.

“I hit the dial again.”

“Well, let’s fix that.” He bends down and turns the dial to find a good station. The static goes in and out, some songs coming through in pieces, or sounding like they’re underwater. It finally lands on a clear station and Eddie grins in triumph. “Perfect. Love Comes Walking In.”

“You know I love Van Halen.”

Eddie stands up straight and takes the few steps over to you. He bows in classic dramatic Eddie fashion, and he comes back up with a frown on his face.

“You’re not wearing heels. Or shoes at all.”

“Eddie, I would’ve kicked them off the moment I got there anyway,” you tell him with a laugh. “Barefoot is fine.”

“Just checking. Want this to be an authentic impromptu prom for you.”

You giggle and Eddie reaches his hand out to you. You take it and he instantly pulls you in and holds you against his body. It would be a miracle if he couldn’t feel or hear your heart beating so fast it’s like someone is dribbling a basketball beneath your ribs. His right hand takes your left and he twines your fingers together. His other hand snakes around your waist until it settles warmly on your back. You place your other hand on his shoulder and smile up at him.

“This is already better than actual prom,” he says. “Good music. Perfect date.”

Red rises to your cheeks and you duck your head shyly.

The pair of you sway to the beat of the song, bodies moving along with the rhythm. Eddie spins you and it makes you let out a giddy peal of laughter. He pulls you back into him and you wrap both arms around his neck. He places his hands firmly on your waist as you start to sway again.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“You brought all the best parts of prom to me. I didn’t have to suffer through the shitty parts. I’ve got my dress, my music, my favorite person. It’s perfect, Eddie.”

“I’ll dance like this with you anytime,” he says. “All you have to do is ask.”

The way he’s looking at you stirs some butterflies up that have been dormant until this point. He’s never looked at you this way and you’re not sure what it is. You know every Eddie facial expression and what they mean, but this one is new. His face is soft, and his eyes are wide, as usual. The brown irises are twinkling and there’s the barest smile on the left side of his mouth.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

“You,” he says. No further explanation, which leads your mind to grasping for answers as usual.

“What about me?”

“Just…you.”

“Okay, I take back what I said about being a scholar now. You’ve lost the ability to words,” you say and wrinkle up your nose playfully at him. He catches you by surprise, though, when he leans forward and presses a kiss to the very tip of your nose.

The blush you had before was nothing to the one now gracing your features. Eddie chuckles when he sees it and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours.

“Do you want to have another prom tomorrow?” he asks.

“What’s that entail? Dancing with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good music?”

“Of course.”

“Can I wear comfy clothes?”

“I’ll be wearing mine.”

“Hmm,” you hum, pretending to consider it. “Can we get food too?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I like the sound of that,” you say with a smirk.

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asks.

“Eddie, I’d have this kind of prom with you every single day.”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction

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eldritch-thrumming · 3 months

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watched that new jennifer lawrence comedy on netflix and like. should we make it steddie?

steve’s a rich kid who grew up having to be self sufficient because of his parents traveling constantly for work. he’s basically a mini adult, but because of that, he sees himself as a lot more mature than the rest of the people his age and by the time he’s ready for college, he’s missed out on a lot of the social milestones that young men his age are experiencing. instead of going to prom, he’d hung out around the house with his weird nerdy band geek best friend having marshmallow eating contests and watching bad rom coms. instead of going to graduation parties, the two of them had built a tent in the harringtons massive backyard and gone night swimming before camping out.

enter his parents, who are less worried abt steve coming out of his shell for his own independence and comfort and more worried that he’ll embarrass them at his ivy league in the fall. there’s been a long line of harrington men attending yale and they’ve paid a lot of money to even get steve a spot there, so if he fucks this up, if he doesn’t join the right clubs and make the right friends, they’re worried it’ll all be a waste.

so they put an ad on craig’s list. eddie and his bandmates are trolling the boards, looking for any odd jobs they can find to try and raise the cash they need to record a demo at the local studio. jeff points it out as a joke and, after laughing at the poor pathetic dweeb whose parents think he’s such a dud they’re trying to set him up with a stranger, they scroll on. but later that night, eddie pulls up the page on his own phone while he’s lying in bed. the offered amount is more than enough to pay for their studio time and then some. eddie calls them and sets a meeting.

when he gets to the harringtons beach house, he’s nervous. he’s a townie and townies are rarely invited into the massive homes that line the shoreline. he knows what he looks like and he knows that the rich tourists who infest the beachside towns every summer tend to steer clear of him when they see him around.

but he needs the money and after meeting with the couple, he thinks this kid probably needs all the help he can get and so he decides to meet their son steve.

turns out steve’s a lot more attractive than he’d imagined and he’s only a couple of years younger than eddie is. he’s also a lot more flirty and charismatic than eddie had assumed. turns out, steve doesn’t lack the ability to make friends or get dates, he just really hasn’t been interested in anyone… at least, not until now.

they hit it off almost immediately. eddie’s never had this much fun with anyone he’s ever tried to date before. steve is funny and smart in very specific ways and his best friend, robin, is a riot. eddie’s not sure how steve’s parents don’t see any of that, but then steve tells him all about how he’d grown up basically alone, how he’d had to make a lot of his own fun growing up, how he’d rarely ever even seen his parents between the ages of 11 and 18. they hadn’t even made it to his high school graduation. steve reveals to eddie that he’s not even sure he wants to go to yale at all, that he only agreed because he’s not sure what else to do.

and eddie tells steve about his dad, abt how he’d gone to jail when eddie was 13, on a job with eddie in tow. he tells steve abt how his mom was heartbroken afterwards, would barely get out of bed to even pick him up from school. he tells steve abt the car accident, the flashing lights of the police car that had picked him up one day and taken him to a foster home before wayne had been called down from upstate to come collect him. wayne had moved out onto the island, trying not to disrupt eddie’s life more than he had to, but prices down here were so much higher and he’d had to work all the time. he’d done so much for eddie and eddie is so grateful… he just wants to pay him back anyway he can.

they reveal things to each other no one else knows and suddenly, as the summers coming to a close, eddie realizes that he’s been falling in love this whole time. but before he can tell steve abt the deal, before he can apologize and come clean and confess his feelings, steve has some kind of massive blowout with his dad. and his dad—in all his anger—tells steve the truth. he tells steve how steve is so pathetic that he and his mom had had to buy him a boyfriend.

steve is, obviously and understandably, beyond devastated. he confronts eddie with tears in his eyes, begging eddie to tell him it isn’t true, that his dad was a liar and he’d just known where to hit him hardest. but eddie can’t deny it. that is how all this started.

eddie doesn’t see steve again, not around town, not at any of their usual haunts, and soon the school year is starting. steve, eddie assumes, has moved into his dorm at yale and is, hopefully, making new friends. by the time thanksgiving break comes around, eddie can finally think about steve with only a tiny ache in his chest. he and the band have recorded their first demo, thanks to that harrington money, complete with the saddest love song eddie’s ever written.

and suddenly steve is there in the bar eddie works at, where he’d been taking steve on their nights out all summer. his brown hair looks extra soft and he’s wearing a quarter zip with the yale logo emblazoned over his heart. they stand there and stare at each other for a moment too long before they both try to speak at the same time.

“no, me first,” steve says, and eddie really can’t deny him this. he’s the one who ruined everything, after all. “what you did to me was terrible.” it’s straightforward and factual, but eddie’s face burns. “you hurt me. a lot.” eddie watches as steve swallows. “i told you things i’ve never said out loud.” eddie opens his mouth to speak, but steve powers through. “but now i’m up in connecticut and i’m meeting all these new people. and some of them are great. but i can’t help but compare them to you. everyone i meet, i think of you. and no one is as fun as you, and no one makes me feel as good. no one sees me like you did.”

eddie’s speechless for a moment, mouth dry. he swallows. steve’s looking at him expectantly. “i was always honest abt how i felt about you, stevie. i really was falling in love with you. or… i mean…” eddie pauses, runs a hand through his hair. “i mean, i love you. i am in love you, like, currently. ongoing. probably in perpetuity which, uh, you know. is like, forever or whatever.”

“yeah?” steve asks softly, a small smile curving on his lips. “forever or whatever?”

eddie can feel himself returning that small smile, nodding. “yeah,” he responds, “ no biggie, though.”

steve laughs. “i kind of disagree. cause i don’t know abt you, but i’ve never been loved in perpetuity before. seems pretty big to me.” eddie shrugs as he watches steve close the distance, smiles widening. “i’m pretty sure i love you too, you know.”

“pretty sure?”

“i’m trying to be a little aloof abt it. not reveal my whole hand too soon.” they’re standing chest to chest now, eddie can feel steve’s breath on his face, they’re so close.

“right. makes sense,” eddie murmurs, staring steve’s wet pink mouth. and then they’re kissing.

and they kiss until gareth comes into the bar for the start of his and eddie’s shared shift and turns the club soda spout on them.

they have a lot to talk abt. but thanksgiving break is a whole week long and after that it’s only two weeks until winter break. eddie has a lot of time to make it all up to steve, in any way he can, in perpetuity.

#steddie #here have this thing is this anything???#steddie au #steddie ficlet #steddie rom com au #steddie blurb #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlets #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson

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the-ace-with-spades · 7 months

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(It was supposed to be 4+1 extra for slow down but instead, it's a bit more chaotic 'Ice checking on Bradley during the night' standalone ficlet)

It starts like this — Carole passes away, Bradley already lives with them, so not much changes, but there's a period when CPS gets a bit too involved and he's taken away from them (from Mav only, technically, since Ice is a secret they're keeping hush-hush) and when he is given back to them, finally comes back to them, there's a month Bradley sleeps with them in their bedroom. Both because he's having nightmares every other night and this way they can make sure he wakes them up when they happen, and because Mav is paranoid and can't fall asleep if Bradley isn't in his range of sight. He understands the sentiment — it does feel like he's going to be taken away from them any time they aren't looking.

Bradley does eventually go back to his own room — he's almost a teenager, it's inevitable — and Mav does eventually start sleeping through the night.

But Ice is a light sleeper and an insomniac.

He wakes up one night, well past midnight and thinks he's heard something. He doesn't wake up Mav, just stands up as quietly as he can, and goes down the corridor, until he steps into their living room and under the dim light from the street lamp, curled up on their couch, Bradley is sitting with Tom's old Flight Manual on his lap.

He closes it, caught red-handed, as soon as he notices Tom.

"Buddy, you've got school," he says softly.

"I can't sleep."

"You still gotta try," he says because kids need sleep. "Come on, I'll tuck you in."

He doesn't even protest when Tom kisses his forehead, like he's been lately.

Ice goes back to their bedroom but he's still tossing and turning, something nagging him, pulling at the back of his head and at the heart inside his chest.

He gets up and Bradley isn't in the living room or the kitchen but he can hear the ruffling of the sheets through the door to his room.

When he peeks his head inside, Bradley turns towards him, the big doe eyes wide awake but crinkling as he tries to pop the covers more over himself, like he can hide away from him.

"Still can't sleep?"

Bradley shakes his head.

"Me neither," he confesses. Then, because Bradley looks—he just looks so sad and so tired and he doesn't want to leave him alone in the dark, just with his dino night lamp in the socket glowing green. "You mind if I lie down with you?"

He promises himself he'll stop once Bradley's nightmares disappear but he never does. Not when Bradley starts middle school, not when he graduates middle school, not when he's studying for his SAT, not when he's going to prom.

When Bradley leaves for college storms away, screaming he hates them and he never wants to see them again he can't kick the habit down either.

“He’ll come back, there’s still four weeks before he’s supposed to check into his dorms, he—” he tries to be logical about it, tries not to panic, tries to keep his head cool. He reasons, begs for it to be true. “He has nowhere else to go.”

“Yeah, he has nowhere else to go, Ice,” Mav says and he sounds terrified. “Nowhere.”

Bradley's always had Mav's stubbornness and Mav knows better than anyone that Bradley isn't going to relent no matter how hard it gets for him.

That night, he wakes up and Mav isn't in their bed.

When he gets up to check on him, he doesn't find him in the kitchen or in the living room, or even in their laundry room, trying to fill the sleepless night with forgotten chores.

Last place Tom checks is Bradley's bedroom, hope blooming in his chest as he reaches the doorknob.

Mav is asleep, his nose diving into Bradley's pillows, Bradley's pyjama top curled into a ball under his arm.

Tom steps into the room and crawls in next to him.

Bradley doesn't come back.

Ice never allows himself to venture into Bradley's room, not to do more than dust the place, and never actually sleeps in there without Mav. Not when Mav gets deployed, not when Mav is stationed in Nevada or Hawaii, not when it gets so lonely and the texts remain unanswered, calls are ignored, not when he spends sleepless nights on the couch downstairs, thinking about how he could turn back time and fix everything so they could still have their kid.

Not even when they moved into a bigger house, Bradley's room packed and unpacked at the new address, hoping he'd return there at some point — maybe after college, maybe after he gets his wings, maybe just, one day.

The only time he slips in there in the evening is the night he notices a blue Bronco in front of their house and sees it drive away as soon as he opens the door and then doesn't get a reply to his text.

He's at the end of his chemo plan and Mav's been trying to get Bradley to come down and talk to him, just in case, just for the support, and Bradley's seemingly ignoring it all.

But he was there. He could recognize the car anywhere.

He wakes up around midnight and his tired mind tells him Bradley might have come back and he walks down the hall and opens the door and—

And the room is untouched, a bit dusty, and there are no sheets, just the bare mattress and the sausage dog pillow Mav bought Bradley when he kept on insisting he wanted a dog when he was sixteen, and Tom lies down and hugs the pillow and tries to fall asleep, trembles through the cold air in the room, waking up from time to time.

The first time Bradley stays over after the mission, in his own room, untouched in almost fifteen years, Ice wakes up at two in the morning, feeling like the whole day — Bradley ringing the doorbell, Bradley helping Mav cook, Bradley eating dinner with them, Bradley grabbing clean bedsheets from Ice's hands, Bradley hugging them goodnight — was a figment of his imagination and he'll come downstairs to have breakfast and Bradley will still be on the other side of the States and not even answering their texts.

He shouldn't have — Bradley is an adult now, he needs privacy and Tom doesn't want to scare him away by not giving him what he needs once again — but he can't stop thinking the reality is going to betray him in the morning.

He walks down the hall, the automatic light turning on as he goes further, until he stands in front of Bradley's door.

He opens it just a smidge, so he can have a look, but the light is so bright in the corridor, and Bradley's sleepy face grimaces at him before he lifts his head up.

"You okay?" he asks Tom, as if he was the parent here.

Tom should leave, but he can't. He just stands there, looking at Bradley's sleepy face and squinted eyes and can't stop.

Bradley raises an eyebrow, falls down back on his pillow, and pats the space in front of him, covers ruffling.

Ice steps in and his hand reaches Bradley's face as soon as he's sat down, gets the curls off his forehead and then caresses his cheek, so much more coarse than he remembers, the unshaved skin tickling his fingers.

Bradley pushes his cheek closer into his palm and he's almost purring under Tom's affection.

"You can sleep here if you want to, Pops," he murmurs, eyes closed, hair out of place, curls falling on his forehead again. "'m sure Mav won't be too jealous."

Pops. He still can't believe he's getting called that again.

He crawls in, feeling his knees protest, and tucks Bradley — into his arms and under the covers.

Bradley moves in with them, a bit reluctantly, but he does — military housing is and always will be crappy, he's been moving from place to place so he has two suitcases and a keepsake box to his soul, and they're still trying to rebuild their family — and that's enough to give Tom a second life.

Tom still wakes up at night, still feels the panic that he'll go back to sleep and in the morning, Bradley won't be there, so instead of tossing and turning, he gets up and just goes to have a look anytime he needs.

Because he can do that now, again. He can walk down the hall and take a peek and maybe even have a chat with Bradley if he's awake and just look his fill until he calms down.

It's one of those nights — he wakes up and even Mav's soft breathes can't lull him back to sleep so he gently untangles himself from their bed and walks down the hall, opens the door to Bradley's bedroom.

Bradley is so used to it by now he doesn't even stir up at the light from the corridor. Instead, Tom hears a, "Huh?" in an unfamiliar voice and Jake 'Hangman' Seresin's head pops up from behind Bradley's shoulder.

He shuffles, blinking at Tom and the bright light, like he's confused about what he's seeing, and Tom notices his arm peeking out of the covers, wounding back around Bradley but this time on top of the duvet.

Tom backs out and closes the door behind himself.

"Jake Seresin is in Bradley's room," he says dumbly once he sits down back in bed.

Mav turns around to him, blinking at their night table light, and pulling the covers back over Tom's legs, scooping him to get back to the cuddling they had going on

Sleepily, he looks at Tom like he lost his mind and asks, "What time is it?"

"Mav," he repeats. "Jake Seresin is in Bradley's bed."

"They're thirty, dear." Mav doesn't even open his eyes. "You can't exactly be outraged about... you know."

"He sneaked in," he points out. "Into our son's room, under our roof."

"Pretty sure he just used the front door when you were asleep," he says, pulling on Tom's arm so he lies down. "Be glad you didn't walk into anything."

"Mav."

"Baby," Mav says, and his eyes are only half-open but he tries to hold his gaze as he leans back from where his chin rests on Tom's arm. "I know it feels like he's still seventeen but he's not. He's—He's all grown, okay?"

"He's still our kid."

"He is," Mav agrees softly, voice moussed with sleep. "Which means you can give Seresin your famous icy glare in the morning. Now, though, just go back to sleep. He'll still be there in the morning."

He'll be, Tom knows, but for how long? They've barely managed to talk him into moving in with them and even that was stretching the social norms a bit — most kids don't live their parents once they finish college, after all — but Tom didn't want him to go anywhere.

"Do you think they could move in here?"

Mav only gives him a confused, "Hmm?"

"When they get married, do you think they could live with us?"

There's enough space, the house is huge, and it's certainly better than any military housing they could get. Maybe they could stay at least for a bit, save up for a mortgage downpayment, or maybe just hold onto this place until they stop being regularly deployed.

Mav lifts his head, one eye open, giving him the look. "You already plannin' their wedding?"

"I don't mean Seresin specifically, just whoever Bradley marries," he explains. He's not sure he likes the idea of Seresin, the I'm-better-than-you-lone-wolf as Bradley's anything. "Do you think we could talk him into staying even when he gets married?"

"I dunno," Mav says, nuzzling into his shoulder again. "The housing market is shit so maybe? Probably would be easier for him, too, if he decides to have kids."

"Kids," Tom repeats numbly. "We could—We could watch them when we retired, right?"

Bradley's been seventeen in his mind for so long he didn't even let himself think about Bradley having kids of his own.

"Baby," Mav says. "He's not going to have kids overnight, not with Seresin anyway. Just go back to sleep, please."

#icemav #hangster #tgm #charlie writes #op

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the-maw-consumes · 1 year

Text

“Have you…ever been in love?”

Steve blinked. That…wasn’t what he was expecting. Still, there’s only one definitive answer.

“Yep,” he answers, popping the ‘p’. “Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” His mimicked gunshot doesn’t even cover how that felt, but he does it anyway.

“Oh my god,” he hears from the other side, “She’s such a priss.”

Nancy Wheeler is a lot of things; priss, she is not. And maybe she doesn’t need him to defend her, but, still, he hums, “Turns out, not really.”

Robin scoffs as if that’s unbelievable, and maybe it could be. Then, she asks, “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

No, is the first thought in his mind. And, well, it’s strange to think his answer would’ve been different at the beginning of the year, as much as he’d told himself he’d moved on back then. But, the months in between have just made him realize that how he feels for her has changed a lot since October. He loves her, of course he does, and he’ll never really get over her. But, he doesn’t think he’ll ever love her like he did again.

So, after a moment, he says, “No.”

Then, of course, she asks the question he’s been avoiding thinking about: “Why not?”

There’s a lot of answers to that question, but Steve…well, he knows the one that’s most responsible, even if it’s been thrown to the back of his mind. He’s never really brought it to the light of day before—if bathroom lights could be called that. But there’s just something about this moment, sitting with Robin on a probably disgusting bathroom floor with his mind still kinda floating, that makes him feel like it’s safe here. They just went through hell—there wasn’t a better time, right?

“I think,” he starts, “it’s because I found someone who’s a little better for me.” He huffs a laugh, “It’s funny, you know? Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been saying, like, you gotta find your Suzie, you gotta find your Suzie.”

“Wait, who’s Suzie?”

“It’s some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real.” Steve shakes his head and kinda wishes he’d thought up a better analogy. “But that’s not really the point. Uh, the point is…I think I already found my Suzie. You know—this person is someone I didn’t even talk to in school, and I don’t know why. Maybe Tommy H. would’ve made fun of me, or I wouldn’t be…prom king. It’s stupid.” He sighs. “I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all a bunch of bullshit anyways. I should’ve been hanging out with this person the whole time. I wish I did. I mean, they’re so cool and hilarious—I feel like, the past few months, I’ve laughed harder than I have in a long time. And they’re smart, and a dork, but so passionate—you know, they can talk on and on about so many things, it’s amazing.” Captivating, really, but the second it takes to reminisce about those moments are enough to make him realize he’s been rambling for like, minutes, and he’s gotta stop at some point. So, “They’re honestly unlike anyone I’ve ever even met before.”

Steve smiles to himself for a second, his head still feeling a little flighty—but the silence keeps dragging on beyond that. The smile falls a bit, and Steve really hopes he was careful enough with his words. He really hopes he can trust Robin if he wasn’t.

“Robin?” Steve taps on the stall wall between them, the sound echoing through the bathroom. When the silence just gets heavier, it’s with genuine concern that he asks, “Robin, did just OD in there?”

“No.” He breathes a sigh of relief, then hears it echoed, though weighted, from the other side. “I…am still alive.”

Still, there’s something so heavy in her tone, and a visual confirmation that she is alive becomes essential for him. So, shuffling over to grip the wall between them, Steve slides underneath the stall and lands a little to the left of where she sits, alive and breathing. She smiles a bit.

“The floor’s disgusting.” He huffs and glances down at the sailor uniform that has (probably) seen better. “Yeah, well. I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…”

She breathes a bit of a laugh, and, at the very least, some of the heaviness is gone. Alive and breathing.

“What do you think?” he asks her, almost intentionally vague.

“About?”

“Am I in love with Nancy Wheeler?”

“No,” she grants. Then, very decidedly, “But, I think you’re on drugs and not thinking clearly.”

And the look she gives him feels too significant, too weighted, and he really, really hopes he was careful because the possibility he wasn’t is starting to loom over him. He can’t argue that his mind was in stellar shape a few minutes ago, and everything she’s done since then is just working to form a pit of dread in his stomach. It feels like wishful thinking to consider that nothing she’s said has been outwardly accusing, but it’s still there.

Why did he have to say so much?

No, no, right. The drugs. Robin may be right, he probably wasn’t thinking clearly. And, damn it, this may not be entirely his fault but he does not want the repercussions for it.

“Well, I think I’m thinking pretty clearly now.” Wishful thinking, it is.

“You’re not.” Somehow, her expression feels like an echo of his own worries. “Steve,” she starts, and the dread gets worse, “you’re not thinking clearly about this. Look, you don’t even know this person—” Wait, what? “and if you did know them, like, really know them—I don’t think you’d even want to be their friend.”

Steve blinks. That—That’s what she was talking about? How did she even know who he was talking about? He shakes his head, honestly baffled. “Wait, what? That’s not true.”

She speaks again before he could ask what about everything he said was so revealing, “Listen to me, Steve. It’s shocked me to my core, but I like you—” Harsh. “I really like you. But I’m not like your other friends. And I’m not like Nancy Wheeler.”

Well, Steve thought he was thinking clearly, but he is lost. Somehow, this conversation has escaped him within the span of two seconds, and the moment feels wrong to ask how they got here. But, if he’s going to take any guess at her meaning, he much prefers thinking she’s…supportive, maybe. Indifferent, even. So, he doesn’t think of the ball of dread winding through his chest, and he tries to follow what Robin may be saying. “Robin, that’s exactly why I like you.”

And that is the truth, really. He’s never had a friend like her, if they could be considered friends. This summer has carved a small space for her in Steve’s heart, and the past few days have done numbers on expanding that space. She’s funny and smart and definitely not like Nancy Wheeler, wherever that came from. And he really doesn’t want to lose her, not right now. If they get out of this, he wants to be her friend. He wants to know her better than ice cream shifts can tell him.

Robin scoffs lightly as if that’s not what she needed to believe him. “Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

“Yeah?” He nods slightly.

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you,” she says, slowly, as if a plea to make him understand. He doesn’t. “It’s because…” she continues, hesitant in her words, and he desperately wants to know how to make this better because his heart breaks for the expression she has. Then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, “...she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

He blinks. “Mrs. Click?”

A breath of a laugh at that, but her eyes plant themselves on the wall. She clarifies, almost resigned, “Tammy Thompson. I wanted her to look at me. But…she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair.” She looks back at him, with watery eyes. “And I didn’t understand because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor and you would ask dumb questions and you were a douchebag!” She shakes her head lightly and he really is trying to understand. “And…And you didn’t even like her, and I would go home and just…scream into my pillow.”

Steve stares for a second, trying to will his brain back into place, his thoughts to something clear, because something is being said here, something important and—

The puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh!

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” she echoes.

Unwillingly, Steve laughs. A bark of laughter just bursting out of him because, jesus-–this entire situation is so botched. But her face falls and he immediately stops in a wave of guilt and throws himself at reassuring her. “No, no, that’s not what I meant! I didn’t mean to do that.”

Robin looks away again, shrugs. “It’s fine.”

No, that won’t do. Steve shakes his head, vehemently, and taps her hand. “No, Robin, seriously—there’s been a huge misunderstanding here. I don’t have a crush on you.”

That makes her look back at him, eyebrows furrowed “What?”

“I think you’re awesome, Robin, and super cool and smart. I really want to be friends with you, seriously. But I wasn’t talking about you.” And Steve could stop there, but she just revealed…herself to him and he owes it to her to do the same. He knows how terrifying that is. “I was— Jesus.” He laughs again, brushes a hand down his face. And, still, knowing about her doesn’t make it any less terrifying to say it out loud. “I was talking about, um,” Like a bandaid, right? “...Eddie Munson.”

Her eyebrows seem to go to her hairline, but he celebrates the light that’s back in her eyes. “What.”

“Yeah, we uh—” There’s warmth in his cheeks. This is the first time he’s saying any of this out loud. “I don’t know how it happened, but we ran into each other one day and just started talking and…like, hit it off, super surprisingly. It’s crazy, he wasn’t even on my radar back then and now he’s—” Steve cuts himself off before he can start rambling again, rubs the back of his neck. “I really like him. I was talking about him.”

Robin grins. “Holy shit.” She shakes her head, repeats, “Holy. Shit,” enunciating, as if for good measure. He matches her grin.

“I had no idea what you were talking about.” He explains, “I mean, maybe I don’t really know Eddie, but how do you know that? And then you started talking about Mrs. Click’s…” he mimics an explosion in his head. “I thought the drugs completely fried my brain.”

She laughs, finally, her head falling back onto the wall, and he can’t help but follow her lead. It’s a good few moments before they stop, Robin suddenly sobering to hold a hand, saying “Wait, wait, Eddie Munson? You’re hanging out with drug dealer, total nerd, band dweeb Eddie Munson?”

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say you could criticize my taste, Miss Tammy Thompson.”

She scoffs, sounding just a bit offended, “What’s wrong with Tammy?”

“I mean, she’s cute and all but she’s a total dud.”

“She is not!”

. . .

#steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steve harrington x eddie munson #there's plenty of these already i'm sure #but i love changing the bathroom scene around to encompass steddie #and i was incredibly bored so #here this is

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courtingchaos · 3 days

Text

Bully Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Plus Size!Fem!OC (written in 2nd POV you/your)

Summary: Third time’s the charm, right?

On his third and final senior year, Eddie is ready to coast as far under the radar as everyone will allow. Between finding a new leader for Hellfire, keeping his grades just above water and maybe finally getting a date with his longtime crush Chrissy Cunningham, he barely has time to breathe.

To get to his ultimate goal of scoring the Prom Queen he’ll need help, and unfortunately that means enlisting you, the bane of his senior year. Both thorns in each other sides, it’s only a matter of time before you tear each other to shreds, or maybe find out that you have more in common than you thought.

Series Notes: This is a pretty low stakes story. Typical high school drama, enemies to friends to lovers. I don’t do non happy endings, but I do love putting my boy through the wringer.

Series Warnings (will be regularly updated as new chapters are posted): Substance abuse, absent parents, incarcerated parents, drug and alcohol use, smoking, language, sex in all its iterations (either discussed or depicted), era appropriate insults.

August- In the Garden of Wonder and Worry TBA

September- The Morning Star Is a Teen Girl

October

November

December

January

February

March

April

May

June

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson X OC #Eddie Munson Fluff #Eddie Munson Smut #My Work #My Fic #Bully Masterlist

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h4rring1on · 2 years

Note

could u do cheerleader!reader asking eddie on a date/prom and eddie thinks its some sort of joke and mocks her or somethin

𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ˋ°•*⁀➷

you and Eddie have been friends for quite a while now, even though you were a cheerleader and he was the freak, you never seem to think about it much. because frankly, you didn’t care, you liked being friends with eddie.

maybe more than friends, you spent a lot of time with eddie and started developing feelings for him. prom was coming soon and you thought that it might be the best way to tell him how you truly feel about him.

eddie told you that he was going to play dnd with his friends at hellfire club, so after cheer practice you decided to wait for him, knowing that it would probably be ending soon. once the other kids started stepping out, you walked into the room to see eddie cleaning up

“hey” he said as he put his things away

“hey—how was it?” you asked, and he told you how the game went. even though you didn’t really care for dnd, or even knew anything about it, you still liked listening to him.

“anyway—how was practice?” he asked

“yeah yeah good—it was good, unimportant—anyway so um. well—so you know how prom is coming soon?” you nervously said

“yep” he sighed, “want me to ask jason if he’s gonna ask you or something? doubt he’ll even want to talk but i’ll give it a shot even though he hates me” he chuckled and you just furrowed your eyebrows

“oh—“ you said at the realization of what he meant, “no—i don’t want him to ask anyway…cause i wanted to ask someone else”

“really?” he raised an eyebrow, intrigued to know who it could be

“yeah…” you said, contemplating if you should say it or not. you hesitated to ask, you weren’t gonna in the first place. until dustin and mike kept pestering you, telling you they were gonna expose you if you don’t ask.

“well? who is it?” he asked

“eddie it’s you” you quickly said, “i know we’re good friends and—i just…i really like you. and i was wondering if you…want to go with me?” you said, looking him right in the eye

eddie’s expression quickly morphed into a disappointment, “wow” he said and your confidence went away, worried thoughts consuming you, “where are they?”

“where are…what? who?” you said in a low voice, the embarrassment already coming for you

“your friends” he said, “what—are they waiting outside? waiting for you to say you had me fooled or something? i knew it”

“wh…what?”

“i knew it. how could a cheerleader, a golden girl come hang out with a freak, yeah? you really did have me fooled for a while, thinking you weren’t like the others—that you really did want to be my friend. but let me guess, jason bribed you to come do this shit? well you can tell him i didn’t fall for his trick. he couldn’t get me this time.” he sternly said and turned away

“eddie—what? it’s—“

“just go” he said in a low voice

“wh—“

“just go!” he yelled

tears blurred your vision as you walked out, mike and dustin were nearby, since they had planned to come ask you how it went

“so? how’d it…” dustin trailed off as they both saw your tears

“what happened?” mike asked

“i asked him. hope you’re happy now. i shouldn’t have done this” you said as walked away from them, the two looked at each other and went to the room to see eddie still there, his expression sadder now

“so uh…” mike said, turning away from dustin

“we saw y/n come here…what was that all about?” dustin asked

“oh yeah—did you see her friends too? get this, she tries to be friends with me and then proceeds to ask me out to prom. i don’t know if she thinks i’m stupid or something, can’t believe i almost fell for it”

“fell for what?” mike asked, frustration clear in his tone

“that it was a trick—some prank she tried to pull with jason and his other annoying friends” he said and dustin just shook his head

“oh my god” mike sighed

“you idiot!” dustin yelled

“what?” eddie furrowed his eyebrows

“there was no trick! there wasn’t anybody even outside, other than me and mike who were waiting for her to come tell us what happened after she told us she was gonna ask you out to prom!”

“no” eddie shook his head

“and now when we saw her she was full on sobbing because of you, dumbass” mike said and eddie paused

“what the hell are you doing—go to her!” dustin yelled and pushed eddie outside, “swear i have to do everything” he muttered as he watched eddie run to his van

you were laying on your bed, sniffling as you listened to music, you looked at your window to see a rock being thrown at it, you turned off the song and opened the window, looking out to see eddie there

“hey” he said and you just glared at him, rolling your eyes and walking away, “i’m freezing! come on” he whisper yelled

you walked back to the window, “good” you said

“im gonna perish!” he whisper yelled again

“then perish, asshole.” you said and he just kept on pleading for you to come down, you finally gave in and let him in through the window

“hi” he smiled and you just kept glaring, “okay—here it goes—i know i was a piece of shit to you but—i mean come on! you’re a cheerleader and im the town freak…it sounded too good to be true. guess i just didn’t wanna get hurt—im sorry. will you…” he trailed off as he got down on one knee and pulled out a flower from god knows where, “go to prom with me?”

“you’re so corny it’s disgusting” you crossed your arms and he just kept awkwardly smiling at you, “get up” you said with a little giggle, he got up and kept reaching his hand you so you can take the flower, you sighed and took it, he smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist, you gently grabbed his face and shared a kiss

“did you take relationship advice from two 14 year olds?” he asked

“shut up! don’t act like they didn’t tell you to come do this” you two chuckled

a/n: the ending sucked i’m kms 😁😁

#stranger things 4 #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie stranger things

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queen-of-the-avengers · 24 days

Text

Waiting For Someone Better

Pairing: Tom!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Prom is right around the corner, and you're waiting for someone special to ask you.

Squares Filled: free space for @spider-man-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You keep your head down when you enter school because you don’t like the attention on yourself. However, when you see Peter at his locker, you bounce over to him, ignoring the stares you get.

“Hey, Peter,” you grin.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he stutters.

God, he’s so cute when he’s nervous.

“I missed you this weekend. I don’t like to study alone.”

“I’m sorry. I had something come up with my aunt, and it was this whole thing. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about it,” he shakes his head and puts his books into his locker.

“Nah, I get it. You better make it this weekend.”

“I promise,” he smiles.

You stand there in awkward silence because you’re waiting for him to say something to you. Prom is next month and you still have no date for it. Peter gives you a side glance but doesn’t say anything about it.

“Okay, I’ll see you in class.”

“See ya,” he smiles.

Ned waits until you leave before joining his best friend’s side.

“Did you do it?”

“No,” Peter sighs.

“Why not? You had the perfect opportunity! You better do it soon before someone else asks her. I know Flash was looking at her the other day.”

“What?” Peter swivels his head to his best friend. “No, he wasn’t. Shut up. I’ll ask her.”

“Better be today.”

Peter and Ned say their goodbyes before Peter heads to his science class which he has with you… and Flash. You two have been lab partners for the whole year so maybe he’ll ask you during class. You smile when he walks in and his whole day suddenly gets better.

This class is meant to catch up on your project which you’re struggling with. Peter is so smart that this kind of stuff comes easily to him, so you’re hoping he can do a better job at explaining it to you than the teacher can.

“I really don’t understand this. Can you explain it to me so I can do my part better?” you ask him in a low voice.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers with a smile. “I’ll do it for you.”

He takes out the chemicals to make the special mixture and you watch with admiration at how easily this comes to him.

“I admire how smart you are. I wish I could be that.”

Peter lowers his head so you don’t see the blush on his cheeks and ears. There is a lot of chatter in the classroom as everyone tries to work on their projects so if Peter wants to ask you, then he can do it now without a bunch of people overhearing him. He’s going to do it. He has to do it now before someone else asks you.

He lifts his head and looks at you but no words can come out of his mouth. Flash is behind you just staring at you which makes him even all the more shy about this.

“So, Prom is next month,” you say and he snaps his eyes to you.

“I know,” he nods. “You’re on the committee for it, right?”

“Yeah. Are you going to go?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Are you/”

“Well, no one has asked me yet.”

You’d think the stare you’re giving Peter would be enough to tell him to ask you but he doesn’t. In fact, he can barely look at you. Maybe he doesn’t like you. You take this as your sign that you should move on to someone else.

When class ends, you and Peter pack up your things and are about to leave when Flash stops you.

“Hey, can I talk to you?”

“I’ll catch up with you later,” you say to Peter who only nods. You could have sworn you saw a look of disappointment but you could be wrong. “What’s up?”

“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush. Want to go to Prom with me?” There is something about the way he’s asking that gives you the ick. It’s like he’s cocky and is only doing this because he knows it’ll piss Peter off. Peter might not want to go with you but that doesn’t mean you’ll resort to Flash. You open your mouth to respond but he beats you to it. “Before you answer, tell me one thing. I beat Peter to it, huh?”

“Even if you did, there is no way I’d go to Prom with you.”

You leave Flash hanging and walk away from him to go to your next class. You didn’t see Peter for the rest of the school day since you only had science with him, and you didn’t see him after class since you had to go to your part-time job right after.

Your dad owns a men’s suit store in town that is very popular with the older folk, and he allowed you to be a cashier to make extra money and save up for something you really want like a car or a laptop. The first hour is pretty slow since everyone is still at work so you’re just moving about the store and tidying up the clothes as you see fit.

The bell on top of the door rings when someone enters, and you look to see Peter walk in.

“Peter? What are you doing here?” you chuckle.

“I’m looking for a suit to wear to Prom.”

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything.” Over the next ten minutes, he wanders the store and keeps sighing, indicating he’d like for you to ask him what’s wrong. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You’re about to leave to clean when he stops you. “So, you’re going to Prom with Flash?”

“And if I am?” you chuckle.

This time, you don’t miss the look of jealousy that flashes over his face.

“No big deal.”

Okay, this is just too fun. The longer you go without saying something, the more Peter is fuming. It gets to a point where you have to put him out of his misery.

“I’m joking, Peter. He asked but I said no.”

Peter’s shoulders tense and then relax.

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“Do you want to know why I said no?”

“Why?”

“I’m waiting for someone else to ask me.”

You keep eye contact for ten seconds before leaving his side to go back to the cashier’s desk. Wait, were you talking about him? Do you want him to ask you? Ned is right. If he keeps avoiding this, then someone else will ask you and you might not say no next time. He takes three deep breaths before going up to the counter and placing his hands on the desk as if he means business.

“Y/N? Will you go to Prom with me?”

“Yes,” you grin.

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, Peter,” you laugh, “I will go to Prom with you.”

“Awesome,” he smiles. “Okay, I gotta go. I have to get a suit.”

Peter is out the door before you can tell him he’s already in a store that sells suits. He’s dorky but he wouldn’t be Peter if he wasn’t.

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