#when he keeps bring up Eddie in conversation just like Eddie does with him

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

#borked my computer trying to update the graphics card #have a thing #steven harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #this is part of an almost finished one shot #eventual #steve/eddie/chrissy #eddie is a dork #100% this oneshot focuses on how dorky his ass is #well that and putting two jocks back together after bad relationships and monster's details both their lives #i called it patchworks because its written to ne weaved through the shows plot and is mostly compliant until vecna #hurt/comfort #breakup

[aphrogeneias]

...right? — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern!au)

summary: you're not sure of where you stand with eddie munson, but you're forced to confront your feelings after almost losing him.

word count: 3k

warnings: fluff and angst with a happy ending. jealous!reader. feelings of self-doubt. eddie munson is a sweetheart.

author's note: this one has been a long time in the making, and it may be a little melodramatic, but i'm doing a lot of self-projecting here, so be nice. thank you to @intrepidacious for reading it for me and giving me your approval <3 i'm sorry to all the girls named emma reading this, but i had to give that character a name.

We're performing tonight, if you want to stop by.

You'd been staring at this message for a couple of minutes now, unsure of what to do. You seemed to be in this dilemma a lot, as of late — to answer or not to answer, to show or not to show.

Too scared to show how you felt, but too scared to lose him at the same time.

Zoned out, you caught Robin’s hand flying in your direction from your peripheral. “Stop looking at your phone!”

She snatched it from your hand, still open in your conversation with Eddie. Robin whistled when she took a look at your screen, “Oh, I see. How are things with Mr. Headbanger?”

“You're talking to Eddie?” Chrissy chimed in from her side of the bed, lifting herself on one elbow to see you better with Robin between you.

The three of you had been like this all night, spread out on Chrissy’s queen bed, a sequence of old romantic comedies playing on her TV. There was an empty pizza box on her fuzzy carpet, and a half finished bottle of wine next to it, the second of the night.

You groan, trying to get your phone back to no avail. “Things have been… well, I think. Too well. I guess I've just been waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Then, it was their time to groan.

Your friends like calling you jaded, but you consider yourself a realist.

It's been a topic of conversation between you for years. Ever since your last relationship ended, after you'd been left for another woman, when you swore off love for good — at first, they thought you were just grieving, it would take time to heal, of course, but you never really did.

You don't think you've ever been anything other than an open wound, in that sense, even before your ex. The high walls that were meant to protect you eventually became a prison you couldn't get out of. A princess and a dragon, all in one.

That is until Eddie Munson came into your life.

No one's ever made you want to drop those walls as much as he does. You'd met him through Chrissy, who’d been his friend since high school, and at first you thought he wasn't really flirting with you. He seemed to always be flirting with everyone, always getting a little too close. Until he asked you out, and you were still not convinced.

It could be a friend date. He could be after one of other friends. Maybe he was just passing time until he found someone better.

That was a few months ago, and Eddie hasn't gone anywhere.

He had a few shirts on your place, merch from various bands which you were growing fond of listening to them in his car. Shirts you would wear to bed when he wasn't spending the night, curling into bed with his smell on you. He'd made friends with your cat, and fixed your coffee in the morning the way you liked it, and left strands of hair loose in your shower.

A brave knight, that Eddie is.

Despite your closeness, and the honesty you see in his eyes whenever you're near him, neither one of you has put a name on what you have. It keeps you up at night, thoughts about calling him your boyfriend and have him laughing at your face. How could you be so stupid?

The thought of it brings tears to your eyes.

“What if that's it, though?” Chrissy interjects, with a gentle voice. Her small hand reached for yours, and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “What if there's no other intentions, no other shoe to drop? You have no reason not to trust him.”

“You say that because he's your friend.”

“Chris is right, babe.” Robin says, sitting straighter on the bed. “He’s never given you any reason to think like that. You need to let yourself go, just this once.”

You sigh, and mumble something along the lines of “Easier said than done,” as you sit up and pull your knees to rest your chin on them.

“You should go, by the way.”

Robin reaches to you with your phone in hand, handling it back to you. Her blue eyes are kind, understanding. Chrissy smiles from her place between you.

“Our local rockstar is waiting for you.”

You respond Eddie with a short omw <3 before your friends are pushing you out of your stupor, and into the street.

They’ve already finished their set by the time you arrive at The Hideout.

You're dressed entirely inappropriate for a dive bar full of metalheads and middle-aged bikers, but you don't let yourself think too much about it because no one really notices you coming in, except for the bouncer who compliments you on your old college sweatshirt.

The night is well beyond starting. The bar is full, and it takes you a while to find Eddie, but when you do, he finds you immediately.

He's at the foot of the stage, talking to his friends. The rest of the band is around too, and you wave at them as Eddie makes his way towards you. The smile that pulls on your lips is uncontrollable when he, with an excited smile of his own, takes you in his arms, wrapping himself around you. “Hi! You just missed the show!”

“I'm sorry! I was at Chrissy’s.”

You take a second to look at him closely. His wild hair is a little damp, and his Accept shirt has the sleeves cut off, which shows more of his tattoos. There's a studded belt on his hips, and you don't think too much before pulling him closer by it.

Eddie kisses you on the forehead, and his lips linger a little bit before pulling away. “Did you tell her I said hi?”

“Forgot to. But next time I'll make sure to send your regards.”

When he's close like this, you almost forget your doubts. When his arm is around your shoulders and he's pulling you close, the smell of his cologne and the last cigarette he smoked before going on stage cling to you, and you cling to it in turn.

“Good, and make sure to arrive on time next time too because we played your favorite and you weren't here.” He pouts dramatically, putting one hand to his chest.

The gasp you let out matches it. “Metal Health? Eddie, no!”

“Eddie, yes!” He shakes you a little, turning you in the direction of the tables. “We played Quiet Riot, and you weren't here to see it. Have to say I'm a little disappointed, sweetheart.”

Walking along with him, you stop when you reach a vacant booth on the corner. Turning to face him fully, you leave a soft kiss on his stubbled chin. “I guess you'll just have to keep playing it, then.”

“Does that mean you'll come to every show?”

There's no space between the two of you, standing chest to chest with each other. The rest of the bar disappears. “I might, if you'll have me.”

“Baby, I'll…”

The bubble you find yourselves in shatters and breaks when Eddie stutters, and turns, because there is someone poking him on the back, disturbing your moment. It's a woman, asking to speak to him.

You don't really register what she's saying. All you know is that you've seen her around before, and you know she's friends with the guys. Eddie apologizes to you as he's being dragged away for a private conversation. “I'll be right back! Don't go far.”

Nodding, you remain frozen in place.

They don't go far, but you can't really tell what they're talking about, but her hand on his forearm, slowly rising to his bicep, tells you everything you need to know.

You don't realize it but you're shaking a little bit, cold sweat prickling through your suddenly frigid skin. There's a ringing in your ears, and a lump growing in your throat, but you can't stop yourself from looking.

He looks beautiful like this. The light from the now empty stage hits his figure from the back, making him look every bit like the rock god he's always aspired to be. The frizz on his hair creates a halo around his head, and you think you might faint.

To his credit, he doesn't get any closer to the girl. Doesn't flirt back. His smile is polite, and he maintains a sensible distance, but that's not enough to ease your mind.

He's only keeping a distance because you're here. Your mind says, always the traitor. You're holding him back. He could be making out with a different girl every night. Maybe he is. Maybe he is and you're none the wiser. Better walk away now. Go, before your heart breaks.

It's already breaking, and you're the culprit.

You almost don't notice Eddie return to you, as your vision’s gone blurry.

“Sorry, Emma wanted to invite me to an after party. Told her I was busy.” There it was, his easy smile again. From a first look, you wouldn't think Eddie Munson smiles so easily, but it's always there, pulling on his full lips and showing off his dimples.

You would smile back, as usual, but it's like your face can't move.

“Just you?” You ask, “Not the rest of the boys?”

He laughs, but there's not much humor behind it. “Just me.”

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” He is still grinning, raising one eyebrow at you, as if taunting you to speak up. Something rotten spreads through your insides, stirring them, rising like bile right through your opened mouth.

“Say what? It's not like we're dating, Eddie."

If regret could kill, you would be dead the moment you saw his face fall. Eddie's expressiveness is a double-edged sword — his happiness was contagious, but when he’s upset, there is nothing that could distract you from the way his bambi eyes plead to you.

You double down anyway, already feeling like a fool, but too stubborn to take back what you said.

"...right?"

“Is that what you think?” He asks, a pout on his pretty lips. “Is that what you want?”

“I… I don't know.” Your mouth is moving, but it's like you don't have control over what you're saying anymore. Like you can't even hear yourself, too taken by the dread that has taken over your body. “I think… What do you think?”

You throw the question back at him because you can't be the first one to say it. Because if he backs out, if you say what you really want — and it's him, he's all you've ever wanted, and the realization hits you like a punch to the gut — and he says it's never been quite like that, that he doesn't want you the same way, that he's just been passing the time, you would break.

Eddie looks away from you, then. His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, “You're not sure what you want, is that what you're telling me?”

“No! No, it's not like that.” You almost choke on your own spit, “I'm just…”

Scared. Of opening your heart, of rejection, of him leaving when he learns how much you want him, need him.

“If you're not sure of what you want, I think you should take some time to think about it.”

“But, Eddie, I…”

“Think about it, and call me when you know.”

One of his hands goes to your shoulder, squeezing it, and briefly running thumb over the fabric of your sweatshirt. He's turning around before you can stay anything, the lump in your throat too big to allow you to speak.

The room feels like it's turning upside down as you turn the other way, towards the door. It turns and turns on its axis, and you almost lose your balance as you're making your way out. You wave halfheartedly at the bouncer, who waves back at you in the middle of his conversation with a green haired girl.

Walking home, you have time to think of what you'd just done.

As the tears roll freely through your face, and you wipe them with the end of your sleeves, you think of Eddie’s sullen face, once full of life, now transpiring his disappointment in you. You'd let him down, and it was all your fault.

In an attempt to protect yourself, you pushed him away.

You imagine him back at the bar, with the boys. With Emma, ready to console him after what you just did to him. The thought of it just makes you cry harder, trying to control your breathing as you get closer to your apartment.

You did what you always do. Leave first, turn your back, clam up back into your shell. You just never thought you'd do that to him.

It doesn't take long until you spiral.

You did all you could after you got home. Tried to breathe, but it only made you cry harder. Curled up on the couch with your cat, a brown tabby that curled herself right back into you, and cried until there were no tears left. Ignored your friends’ messages on your phone, pretending everything was all right.

Tried to drink, but felt too sad to even open your fridge. Ran into one of Eddie’s hoodies hanging from the back of a chair in your room, and felt more tears coming, but no strength to cry.

Everything in your room reminded you of him — your unmade bed where he'd be lying on if you didn't screw up, the fantasy book he'd let you borrow on your bedside table, a polaroid of the two of you with your arms around each other serving as a bookmark.

You pick your phone, and it rings and rings. He doesn't answer. In a moment of panic, you leave a message instead, pacing through your room on your bare feet, still wearing the clothes you went out in. The cat on your bed follows your movements with her eyes.

“Hi, Eddie. I… You might not even want to hear from me right now, and I get that. Really, I do, but… You just need to know I know I fucked up. I didn't mean to do you like that, I didn't mean to say those things to you.”

Your voice trembles, just like the hand that's holding your phone to your mouth, but you keep going, “Of course we're dating, we've been dating for a while now. I was too scared to say anything because we never put a label on it and I thought you didn't want anything with me, I guess I just didn't want to be the first one to say it in case you decided this wasn't… that I wasn't… what you wanted.”

There's a few seconds pause as you take a deep breath, and release it in an anguished sigh. “What I'm trying to say is… that I like you. A lot. Have since the beginning. And I understand if you didn't want anything to do with me anymore because of what I just did, but… if you still want to talk, I'm… I'm still here, okay? I'm still here.”

When you're finished, you throw your phone back on your bed, and wait.

You're still pacing around the house, a mug full of tea in hand, when you hear your phone vibrating on your bed. You almost don't pick it up, but you do anyway.

Two notifications from Eddie.

Can I come over?

Are you still up?

Hands shaking, you answer with a simple Yeah. Key’s on the carpet.

The clock on your screen says it's 2:22 AM.

You hear your door opening not too long after that, the spare key turning on the lock, as you're sitting on the couch, writing like a kid that's to be scolded when their parents come home. The mug of tea is half empty at your feet, and now cold, just as your nervous hands as Eddie comes through the door.

Wearing a Metallica sweatshirt, an older one that you've borrowed before, one you know how soft it feels on the skin, he comes in and silently closes the door behind him, leaving the key on a small ceramic plate by it.

You cave in before he can say anything. “I'm sorry.”

Your chin is wobbling again, but you swallow it down, not wanting to make a scene. Eddie comes closer, and sits next to you, careful not to kick the mug that you left carelessly on the floor.

“No, I'm sorry. I should have said something, I should have told you what you meant to me sooner. You know… I've been calling you my girlfriend to everyone but to the person who matters the most.”

“Everyone?” You repeat, “Everyone who?”

“The guys. At work. Wayne…”

“You told your uncle I'm your girlfriend?” The word feels foreign in your tongue, but not unpleasant. Eddie looks sheepish, but the corner of his mouth twitches and lifts just a bit, one of those dimples you love making an appearance in your dimly lit living room.

“Yeah. Like I said, everyone but the one who matters the most.”

There it is. That earnestness, pouring through him, warming you up from the inside out.

“And I guess… Am I the person you mean?”

“Who else would it be?” He's tilting his head now, kind eyes aimed at you. You huff a weak laugh, them, relief hitting you in waves. Not thinking too much, you throw yourself at him, hugging him by the shoulders, and folding your legs under your thighs to be closer to him.

“I'm still sorry, though. Sorry that I made you think I had doubts, or that I…”

Eddie doesn't let you finish, shushing you with a hand on the back of your head, and another wrapping around your waist, keeping you in place. “It's okay, sweetheart. I'm sorry too.”

“Since we're both sorry, does anyone have to be sorry at all?” You mumble into his shoulder, taking in his smell through his clothes. It soothes you more than anything can, along with his voice vibrating through his chest, and the warmth of his body clinging to yours.

“I think we can discuss the details in the morning.”

He seals it with a kiss to your temple. You and your boyfriend sleep on that same couch, and in the morning, there is nothing left to say.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic

[joshlmbrt]

Hey! I came across your account recently so I would like to make a request where Eddie and reader are secretly dating because he says he doesn't want to ruin her reputation (she's not a cheerleader or very popular, but still) but some people are starting to suspect you two, then Eddie starts bullying you so no one can continue talking about it, but there's a catch, he does it without warning you. So one minute you're in his locker and the next he's humiliating you in front of everyone, but that only increases the rumors, because everyone starts saying that not even the school freak wants you. If u dont like ignore me pls 😭

thank u so much for this request, i absolutely LOVE this type of request:p. i hope i do it justice and i apologize for it taking so long! w; secret relationship, angst!

eddie gets nervous when dustin brings something up about you - a fidgety nervous.

then eddie gets nervous when steve brings you up at a hang out you were at since you were robin and steve’s best friend - this time it’s a sweaty nervous.

he’s beginning to suspect that people realize that you both are dating and he doesn’t want your name run through the dirt just because you decided to fall in love with him.

so he does what he does best - try to ‘distract’.

you stumble when you feel a shoulder bump into yours, brows furrowing as you quickly lift your head up. you see a mess of curls and a leather jacket. you can hear other people around laugh when they notice the look on your face - confused and slightly hurt.

it was never your idea to keep the relationship a secret, it was eddie’s. you never understood why he wanted to keep it a secret - he never elaborated on the why.

it was probably only an accident, is what you think. until it happens more through the week. and you couldn’t even ask him about it because he had kept pushing you away, ignoring you.

week three was worse.

a feeling of dread heavy on your shoulders as soon as you stepped into the chilly building, fingers gripped around the strap of your bag.

robin meets up with you, a sympathetic look on her face. “did you sleep any last night?”

you give her a look. “what do you think?”

judging by the bags under your eyes, she thinks you did not. she looks away.

“sorry,” you say softly, stopping by your locker. she stops next to you, giving you a worried look. “i’ve just… i’ve never been bullied, over looked maybe, but never bullied. and i’ve never bullied others. and eddie’s my-” you pause, hand gripping the chipped locker.

robin tilts her head. “your what?”

you lower your voice. “my boyfriend.”

her eyes widen comically wide as she gasps. “what?!” you’re quick to shush her. “sorry. when did this happen? how come we never knew?”

“6 months ago,” your eyes cut over her shoulders. “and he didn’t want… anyone to know. i don’t know why, i don’t have any problem with people knowing. but i wanted to respect his wishes.”

her brows pinch together in confusion. “why would…”

“your guess is as good as mine,” you turn back to look in your locker when a group of friends pass, eyes cutting over to you before giggling, a couple of whispers shared. “and i can’t talk to him because he’s been ignoring my phone calls and hasn’t been coming over for our usual saturday movie nights.”

she frowns a bit, head turning just in time to notice the boy, eyes narrowing at him. he peeks up before quickly looking away, noticing her stare.

she knows.

maybe lunch time he went a bit to far.

went a bit to far by knocking your lunch over your chest on accident.

conversations are stopped. eyes are on you both. and there’s tears welling up in your eyes as you stare at the tray and food spread over the floor.

dustin, mike, and lucas are staring at you, a worried expression on their faces.

jason is the first to burst out into laughter. a shrill thing that makes the hairs on your arms stand.

soon, everyone joins in. thats when the first of many tears slip from your eyes.

“i hate you.” it slips before you can catch yourself and its raw with emotion, the words getting choked up on as you watch his face fall.

you turn away, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand furiously, head down. the heavy door closes behind you when you walk out.

you can hear the door open and close again, your name being yelled. you keep walking because you know who it is, and eddie is the last person you want to speak to right now.

a hand wraps around your bicep, turning you around. “hey… i’m-i’m sorry. i-” you flinch away from his palms when he tries to reach up to wipe away the tears.

“no. don’t… don’t touch me,” you step back, shaking your head. his shoulders slump and he stares at you. he didn’t know what he expected - especially after three weeks of torturing you. “why are you being so mean to me?”

his heart breaks when he hears the crack in your whispered voice. he thinks you probably didn’t want him to hear the question, but he did.

his eyes cut down to the cracked concrete, shifting the weight on his feet. “i just… i didn’t think people would actually join in with me,” he winces at the excuse. “i didn’t want people to know we were dating.”

“why? because you’re embarrassed of me or what? because this makes no sense, eddie.”

“no! no, i’m not- i’m not embarrassed of you. you would’ve been embarrassed of me.”

“well, thank you for making that decision because bullying me totally makes me believe that,” you shake your head. “you’re unbelievable, eddie.”

“what?”

“you could’ve talked to me about it instead of making me hate coming to school everyday. i’ve never felt that way, worried about what was going to happen next, but now i do. i worry about what someone is going to leave in my locker again and hide in the bathroom because of you.”

“someone’s leaving things in your locker?”

“don’t act like you care, because you don’t,” you snap. “in fact, don’t talk to me anymore. don’t look in my direction. i don’t want to see you or talk to you.”

his mouth opens but you shake your head, letting him know that whatever he was going to say, you wouldn’t change your mind.

“bye, eddie.”

#cherry writes ✿ #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn x reader

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 60

part 1 | part 59 | ao3

cw: reference to canonical minor character death

Max slams the phone down, knocking her forehead against the wall. Sixteen calls in a row and still no answer. “I give up,” she sighs. “You should just go.” “Seriously?” Steve protests. “And just leave you here? Alone? After—?” After all that? He throws his hands out like an umpire calling a safe. “No. No way.” “Look, my mom will be home soon, you can’t—” “—I’m not letting you get hurt—!” “—What are you gonna do? Fight my nightmares for me?”

“Maybe I will,” Steve mutters under his breath, pissed off and replaying the conversation on repeat while he gets ready. Feels like a psycho for doing it; feels certifiably unhinged just going about his evening after everything that happened, putting on a clean shirt and choking himself in a cloud of Farrah Fawcett spray so he can go pick up the sweet-but-stupid girl named Brenda he promised to take to the game tonight; so he can go cheer in the bleachers like he didn’t almost die.

(Or like, very vividly hallucinate his own death, which... Yeah. Doesn’t feel any less horrific.)

But whatever. Max is right. Without El, there’s really nothing to do but wait. Hop’s dead, Bob’s dead, Joyce is thirty hours away. Owens is off the table, too. What’s Steve gonna do? Call the government and tell them to come nuke the boogeyman? He doesn’t have any proof. 

He also doesn’t want to freak Dustin or any of the other kids out without knowing for sure what’s going on and what, if anything, can be done about it, so...

Fuck.

Fuck!

He gets dressed; he goes out. Picks up Brenda and does his best to be nice to her even though she gets on his nerves the moment she gets into his car, and he buys them sodas at the gas station and doesn't say a word when she spills Sprite down the side of his passenger seat.

The school is packed when they show up — the crowd in high spirits, the marching band leading chants. Nancy's reporting from the sidelines, Lucas is laughing with his teammates on the bench, and Steve leads Brenda toward the bleachers and does his best not to think. Not about the graveyard, not Max, not the looming threat of cosmic terrors. Not about the fact that Eddie is somewhere in this building, probably looking all hot and menacing while he leads tonight's campaign. Probably perched on a prop throne drinking Mountain Dew from a painted chalice like a fucking dork; probably making it look sexy, anyway. Tight jeans, legs spread, an air of casual command…

Steve could go find him. He could make everyone else leave; he could get on his knees and crawl between Eddie's legs—

"Does it bother you that we might win the championship, like, right after you graduated?"

Reality comes back like a slap in the face. "Yeah, that's an excellent question, Brenda, thank you so much for bringing that up."

They get settled into their seats, and Steve wishes he were more excited when the ref throws the jump ball, but he mostly just wants to go home. ("You always want to go home," the Robin in his head reminds him, and the Robin in real life throws him a weird look when she catches him snorting to himself about it.) He's just tired. Worn down in his bones, hollowed where he thinks his marrow should be, and he's clinging to normalcy with a sort of sweaty desperation that he’s pretty sure Brenda can smell on him because the date just sucks; it’s so bland, so mutually boring and bored. He spends most of the night mouthing stupid shit at Robin or keeping a sharp eye on the court — anything to ignore his proximity to Eddie; anything to drown out his messed-up head and heart. 

When the game finally ends Brenda gets a ride to a party with some friends. Steve goes back to Dustin’s place and paces a hole into the carpet. Stays up until 3 A.M., humming a Fleetwood Mac song.

In the morning, he tells himself as he drifts into fitful sleep. 

In the morning it’ll be fine. 

In the morning Max will come by the store like she promised, and they’ll keep trying until they get ahold of El, or Owens, or someone, and that someone will know what to do and how to help.

—

In the morning the TV tells him there’s a dead girl in his house.

—

part 61

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Pairing: ReaderXEddieMunson

Request: i don't remember reading something like this before and i thought it might be nice. a smut where they suddenly start kissing rough during a big fight like in films/series? they might be fighting because of jealousy or something else and the fight is going really hard, (they don't hit each other) but maybe eddie is throwing things against the wall and breaking them and the reader is pushing him by the shoulders etc., with the intensity of the fight, something can be ignited and I thought it could be a really tough smut

Word Count: 3.3K

18+ Only

Smut, Rough sex, there is verbal fighting, name calling, and throwing of things but never violence at each other

“Are you fucking serious right now Eddie!?” 

Your chest heaved, blood boiling in your veins, making you feel as if you were incinerating from the inside out. Was he really going to stand there and accuse you of this when he did it all the goddamn time, assuring you it meant nothing?

“I saw you, sweetheart! You were practically in his goddamn lap!”

“I was not! Jesus Christ! I was sitting on the stool next to him. We were just talking. I haven’t seen him since high school so he was asking what I’ve been up to.”

Eddie snorted, his eyes rolling up into his head. “Yeah. I’m so sure Billy Hargrove was real interested in a conversation and not your tits that were practically in his face, begging to be touched.”

The rage that was building within you had you trembling. It slithered like an ugly disease down your arm and into your hand. You grabbed the ashtray from the end table and chucked it at him. He ducked just in time as it smacked into the wall with force behind him. 

“What the fuck!?” he yelled, those brown doe eyes now dark with fury. “What is wrong with you?”

“You! You’re what’s wrong with me! I sit there every fucking time you have a show and watch while girls hang all over you! You smile and laugh and tease them! You make them think they have a shot with you! You pose for pictures and sign their fucking tits! You sit there like a king on your fucking throne, soaking it all up, loving being the rock star that all the groupies want a shot with! And you’re always telling me it means nothing! I have to just accept it if I’m with you! But I have one goddamn conversation with a guy…”

“He’s not just a guy! He’s your fucking ex!”

“Yeah! He is! Ex being the word that matters here! I’m not with him. I’m with you! I chose you and I keep choosing you but you never fucking choose me!”

His mouth dropped open, sounds of disbelief and disgust spluttering from him. He folded his arms across his lean chest, rising up to full height, towering over you. You didn’t flinch. You weren’t scared of him. Eddie could be a jerk but he would never lay a hand on you. 

“I choose you! I could have any of those fucking girls I want! They want to come home with me! They’ve heard I can show them one hell of a time and they practically beg me to show them! But I don’t because I have you!”

“Oh! Well so sorry you’re saddled with me! That can easily be fixed you know!”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean, princess?”

“You can leave anytime you want if this isn’t making you happy anymore! Yeah! You know what? Maybe you should! Then you can actually live out your sad small town rock star fantasy! You can bring a different whore home every night and show her what a good time you are.” You paused, tilting your head, hands on your hips. “But what fucking home will you bring her back to when you don’t have me to foot the bills so you can run off pretending you’re Tony Lommi?”

“We’re really going to do this again?”

“Do what again?”

“Bitch about me not pitching in enough around here! You knew what I was when you decided to be with me. You told me you were good with me working part time so I could focus on my music.”

“That was three fucking years ago! How long are you going to keep it up!?”

“You used to support me! You used to believe in me!”

Tears welled up in your eyes, only fueling your anger more, because you didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to show any sign of weakness. You didn’t want him to see how much his words had hit their mark, like an arrow hitting the bullseye. 

You had supported Eddie. You had supported him. You’d encouraged him to go for his dream but his dream was now killing both of you. You couldn’t take it. Night after night watching women throw themselves at him, watching him encourage it, eat it up, relish the attention. Working twelve hour shifts, dead on your feet, just to cover rent because Eddie couldn’t possibly take on more hours if he was going to get that new song finished.

“Yeah, I did, and you used to act like I mattered!” you spat. 

“You matter!”

“Do I? It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it! When’s the last time you spent any time with me that wasn’t in the fucking bed, Eddie? That’s all I’m good for anymore! You don’t want to watch a movie or go down to the lake like we used to! I’m nothing but a toy you bring out when you need to quench your urges and then you put me back on a fucking shelf!”

“Bullshit! I invited you to band practice last week and you said no!”

“Oh! Thanks so much for wanting me to be there! We both know you just want an audience! You want someone to worship you and tell you how amazing your music is. I’m your girlfriend Eddie! I’m not some fucking groupie who’s just there to fawn over you and spread my legs!”

“No? Well, you sure acted like one tonight with Hargrove!”

“Fuck you! Get the fuck out!”

“This is my apartment too!”

“The fuck it is! You don’t pay for shit and my name’s on the lease!”

“You seriously want me to leave?” he growled.

“Yes! I want you gone! I’m done! I’m not doing this shit anymore!”

“Oh! Oh! I see what this is. You gonna call your roid rage boy toy once I’m gone? What sweetheart? You saw that mullet again and just couldn’t help yourself? You going back to him?”

You should say it but you couldn’t help yourself. Not after week after week of questioning if Eddie wasn’t just giving all those girls attention. Not after nights staring at the clock, wondering if he was off with one of those groupies, temptation too much for him to handle. Not after the way he’d just assumed you’d be willing to do the same. Staring him down, you challenged, “And so what if I am?”

His arm shot out and you shrieked, flinching, your hands coming to either side of your head as a shield. The crash of broken glass shocked you to your core as he grabbed the nearest thing to him, the lamp, and threw it with all the force he had against the wall. 

You stared at him, silent, shocked as he glared down at you, chest heaving, each breath straining the fabric of the fitted shirt he’d started to wear ever since a groupie told him he should show off his body more. 

“You want to go to him! You’re gonna leave me for that piece of shit!” he raged, flinging magazines from the end table one by one, nowhere in your direction, just satisfying thunks against the wall that punctuated each word he spoke. “You think he’s gonna be better to you than me!” His hand snatched the little elephant that he’d bought you from the zoo, the tiny figure cracking as it made contact with the wall next. “You’re just gonna walk away!”

“You asshole!” you screamed, fists pummeling against his chest, shoving him backward. His hands wrapped around your wrists, holding you in place, keeping you from reaching him. 

“Stop it!” he yelled as you flailed like a feral animal to free yourself from his grip.

“I hate you!” you cried. “I fucking hate you!”

“Calm the fuck down!” he roared, pushing you back until he had you pinned against the wall, his weight pressing against you. “God, why do you have to be such a bitch!?”

“Probably because you’re such a dick!” you snap back, trying so hard to hold onto your anger but the awareness of his body, every inch of him now pressed against every inch of you, is making it harder to do. 

He rolls his hips, his erection pressing against your center, smirking when you gasp at the contact, “Yeah, but you like that dick, don’t you?”

“Go to hell,” you grind out through gritted teeth and when he drops his head to find your lips, you snap at him, going for the bite. He just chuckles, keeping hold of your wrists, bringing them to either side of your head against the wall. 

“You are such a pain in my ass.” He tries for the kiss and when you nip at him again, his lips latch onto your neck instead, sucking a bruise into your skin while he slots his thigh between yours. 

“You are…” 

But you never tell him what he is as he presses his thigh against your center, your traitorous hips rolling, seeking the friction he’s providing. His mouth moves over your neck, suckling the flesh in a semi-circular pattern until he reaches the other side. He’s marking you, a necklace for you to wear, to display that you’re taken, that you already belong to someone. Like a fucking dog in heat, he’s making sure that Billy Hargrove and any other unfortunate male who even glances your way knows you’re not available. 

You want to fight him. You want to be the badass bitch who pushes him off and walks away, stands your ground, but it just feels so goddamn good. His mouth on your skin, firm muscle grinding against you just where you need it, fingers pressing into your pulse points as he keeps you captive against the wall. 

“What was that, princess? I’m what?” he teases, fingers loosening their grip on your wrists, trailing over the sensitive flesh on the underside of your arms sending shivers racing up your spine. They brush over the outer curve of your breasts and your back arches, your body craving more, needing more but Eddie just steps back, holding his hands out in front of him. “There’s the door. If I’m such a dick, why don’t you head out right now and find your little boytoy?”

Your teeth grind together, that anger that you’d forgotten in the haze that was desire raging back, the two warring with each other, a battle that was about to lead to epic destruction. 

“You bastard…” you mutter, shoving him backward, his body moving barely an inch. “I despise every fucking thing about you.”

One eyebrow lifts, taunting, his tongue slipping out of the corner of his mouth, tracing over his bottom lip. Your eyes watch, a clenching between your thighs as that backstabbing bitch aches for what she knows that tongue can do. 

“I hate you…you’re…you’re…”

“Yes? I’m listening.” He cups his hand to his ear, egging you on, brown eyes dancing with amusement as how vexed he’s gotten you. 

A roar of frustration rips from your throat, your hands slamming into his chest, sending him almost toppling over the coffee table. His arms flail for a second before he drops to his ass, hard, just managing to keep himself sitting. He barely has time to look up at you before you’re climbing onto his lap, your fingers sliding roughly into his hair, grabbing a fistful, painfully pulling his head back, relishing the way he winces. 

“Fuck, princess. Careful with the hair.”

“Shut up,” you order, your tongue tracing down his neck, his wince quickly turning into a groan. You sink your teeth into the flesh between his neck and shoulder and he grunts, grabbing onto your hips, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. 

You rock against him, seeking the relief, the pressure building within you, winds of anger and lust meeting to create a tempest that was about to sweep you both away. Lips, teeth, and tongues clash in a war of biting, sucking, and scraping that has your thighs shaking, a coil tighter than you’ve ever felt before curling in your stomach, begging to spring free. 

Eddie’s hands grab onto your top, tearing it in half, the sound of the threads coming apart satisfying. He makes quick work of your bra and then his mouth descends, marking your flesh until you’re sure there won’t be an inch of you that isn’t bruised. Your hands find their way up his shirt, nails raking along his back when he clamps his teeth over your nipple, tugging at the tender peak, a pain that sends a rush of pleasure straight to where you keep rocking against him. 

“Fuck yes!” you cry, nails embedding into the skin of his shoulders, using him as leverage as you chase your own release against the bulge in his jeans. 

His hand clamps around your throat, pushing you back, away from what you want right at the moment you’re about to get it. The rage is back, awakened again by the audacity of this man to keep your orgasm from you. Your back drapes over his legs as he makes fresh marks over your stomach, his other hand slipping up your skirt. 

The soft Eddie, the one who glided calloused fingers over your trembling flesh, who teased you over top of your panties, who pressed tender kisses to your inner thighs, was nowhere to be found. Without warning, his thrust two of his thick fingers past the scrap of fabric and inside you, not giving one thought to if you were ready for him.

But you were. Holy shit, you were wetter than you’d ever been, inner thighs already sticky from the friction, the brutish way his mouth was marring your skin. You’d never been so turned on in your life and you didn’t know what that said about you and at this moment, with his fingers deep within your pussy, his heel grinding against your clit, his mouth suckling a fresh mark under your breast, you really didn’t care. 

“Not thinking about leaving now, are you, princess?” His hand came down, making contact with the side of your breast with a smack, your whole body jolting. 

You cried out, your hands dropping to the ground behind your head to keep you from spilling off his lap. Another finger pressed into you, stretching you, filling you and a sound you didn’t even recognize wrenched from your body as it clamped down around his fingers. His large palm grabbed your breast roughly, pulling at the overly sensitive skin, everything heightened in this moment, your entire body feeling like it flayed open, senses on max level. 

“Fuck!” you growled, your whole body quaking as it neared release and his palm lifted, fingers slipping out, leaving you feeling empty. 

“You don’t come until I tell you to.”

“What the fuck do you mean…”

But your words were cut off as he manhandled you, turning you over, your face pressed down into the carpet. Snatching off your underwear, he roughly palmed your thighs, spreading you wide until your entire front half was bent onto the floor. 

You heard the slide of his zipper. “You want this dick, don’t you?” he purred, leaning forward, his voice just over your shoulder. “Come on, princess. You want this dick, you gotta ask nicely. Say please.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. 

“Hmm…okay then…”

“You think I want that after so many groupies have had a turn on it,” you challenged, daring him to say it. To tell you that yeah, he’d been cheating on you for months. Letting you believe it was all just about keeping the fans happy so they’d keep coming back. “You think it’s so special? You can fucking keep it. I can find just as good elsewhere.”

You moved to get up and his hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pushing you back down to the floor. 

“Nobody’s had a fucking turn but you,” he growled. “I’m a lot of things, sweetheart but a liar ain’t one of them. You are so goddamn stubborn, you know that? Sometimes I wonder why I even put up with you.”

“Then don’t!”

“Oh, I wish it were that simple. I’m fucking in love you, you idiot! You’re a pain in my ass and you drive me up the fucking wall but I love you and you love me and you fucking know it.” He slapped your ass, leaving a sting that had your pussy dripping all over again. “Now be a good girl and ask for my cock politely.”

Fuck. You hated how right he was. You hated how much you wanted him. You hated how hopelessly in love with him you were. You wished you had the strength to just get up and walk away but you didn’t. A throb between your thighs reminded you how much you needed this. Your body was going to make the decision for you. 

“Fuck me, Eddie,” you snarled.

“I’m sorry. What’s the magic word?”

“I hate you…I hate you so fucking much…”

“Nope. Sorry but that’s not it.”

“Please!” you screamed. “Please fuck me into this goddamn floor and let me come already!”

“That’s my good girl.”

His hips slammed forward, colliding against your own as he buried himself to the hilt within you. You groaned gutturally, your body a discrepancy of both relief and tension. He thrust into you at a brutal pace, your skin smacking together, loudly filling the small space. You had a fleeting thought about what the neighbors were hearing but it quickly dissipated as the only thing you could focus on was Eddie, stretching you, filling you, finally giving you what you needed. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you off the floor, pressing your back to his chest. Continuing to fill you, he gripped your neck, his other hand sliding over your stomach and in between your thighs. When he applied pressure to your clit, you keened, arching back against him. 

“This pussy is mine. You’re mine.” His teeth bit down into your shoulder. “You’re the only one that’s mine. You’re the only one I want. Do you understand that?”

You couldn’t answer. Your eyes rolled toward the heavens, muscles trembling violently. You had zero control. His grip around your throat tightened, a wheeze rising from your lungs as you attempted to suck in air that you couldn’t find. 

“I said, do you understand that?”

He slowly eased up pressure and you rasped out, “Yes. Yes. Yes…”

The word continued to fall from your lips, a mantra as the pressure that had been building within you finally reached its boiling point. You were standing at the precipice, looking at the drop…it was so damn close you could taste it. 

“Come for me now,” ordered Eddie. 

The band snapped, an explosion of sweltering heat racing along your skin, as your orgasm violently took over your body. Eddie kept his hand around your neck, not ceasing his unmerciful pounding, his flesh meeting yours with a ferocious collision every single time. His grip tightened as an animalistic roar assaulted your ears. 

Sweat slicked flesh slid against each other as the two of you collapsed into a heap on the floor. You lay next to him, panting, struggling to understand what the hell had just happened. How had you gone from being ready to kick him out to having the hottest sex of your life?

“I mean it. You’re the only one. I’ve never kissed or touched any of those girls. I’ve never even considered it,” he gasped. “Have you? Were you…considering Billy?”

“No…not really,” you managed, still unable to fully catch your breath.

“You love me?”

Your head turned, looking over at this idiot that somehow had such a hold on you. You couldn’t explain it but you also couldn’t deny it. Rolling your eyes, you shook your head.

“Yeah. I do. I love you even if you are a dick.”

“Good because I love you too, you pain in the ass.”

#eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie the banished #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie the freak munson #rough #rough smut #smut #request #smut requests #eddie munson stranger things #jealousy #toxic relationship #rough stuff

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

The walk passes slowly, as if the length of the tracks has more than doubled since the last time he was here. It seems longer than a couple of years ago, when Steve had strolled alongside him, talking about Farrah Fawcett spray. 

Dustin kind of feels like he’s following a breadcrumb trail that he can’t see—like his body already knows where to go before his mind does. 

He finds that the junkyard isn’t all that different; the only discernible difference is that the bus they once took refuge in is no longer there. It means that there’s more empty space, his eyes darting around until he lands on Steve, who’s sat with his back pressed up against the wheel of a rusty, broken down car—clearly not bothering to take shelter from the rain. 

The relief at the sight of Steve is short-lived; as he nears the car, Dustin starts to get a sinking feeling, like when he reads a detective story and the mystery is solved too soon—there’s too many pages left. 

So he doesn’t rush over, moves slow and steady, one step at a time. And he starts to notice…

Steve is dressed in a threadbare T-shirt, and his sweatpants look old and worn, a few inches too short around the ankles. As Dustin gets within touching distance, he realises that Steve must be wearing what he’d gone to sleep in last night.

“Steve?” Dustin says hesitantly.

Steve doesn’t respond, but his eyebrows furrow in a vague way, as if he’s heard Dustin, albeit distantly. His hair is damp from the mist and rain, his sneakers mud-stained. He doesn’t have socks on.

Dustin wonders how long he’s been out here.

“Hey,” he tries, crouches down in front of him. Slow and steady, he repeats inside his head. Like he’d been with Eddie in the boathouse.

He’s never seen Steve like this, but he knows that people can get stuck in places, like El in the lab and Will in The Upside Down—stuck in their head long after they’d physically left.

Dustin doesn’t know where Steve is stuck, exactly. Just knows he needs to bring him back. 

He clears his throat.

Steve’s eyes land on Dustin’s face—obliquely, but it’s enough to spur Dustin on.

“Remember the last time we were here?”

A pause. There’s a flicker of Steve in the slightest of wry smiles tugging at his mouth. “Your poor cat, dude.”

His voice is brittle, like each word is an effort.

Dustin smiles back. He thinks for a moment, then mimes swinging a bat, relieved when Steve’s eyes actually follow the movement.

“You were awesome.”

And it surprises him—not the sincerity, that’s a given, but the fact that he’s not said such a thing out loud for a while. Well, he reasons, at least not to Steve himself.

Pre-Vecna Eddie would roll his eyes any time the conversation circled back round to Dustin raving about Steve—but in the RV, as Steve swung them onto the open road, Eddie had turned to Dustin with the widest of grins. He furtively nodded towards Steve in the driver’s seat, then said with a breathless laugh, “You were right, man. Incredible.”

Steve makes a small sound that’s more of a gasp than a laugh. Shakes his head. “Yeah, I’m—” He swallows. “Don’t think I’m that guy anymore.”

What do you mean? Dustin thinks. I’m looking right at him.

But he doesn’t say it.

He doesn’t say it, because now he can see why each word Steve speaks seems to come at a cost. His chest is rising and falling erratically, his breathing quick and shallow.

And he’s shaking.

His hands are clenched into fists, knuckles turning white—like he’s focused so much on trying to keep still that it’s making him tremble anyway.

Slowly, slowly, Dustin moves the tiniest bit closer. His hand barely touches Steve’s before he draws back sharply, hitting his head against the body of the car.

“Sorry,” Dustin says quietly, raising his hands just a little, hopefully just enough for him to register as not being a threat.

He remembers Eddie in the boathouse again, when he’d sank down to the floor, the fight gone clean out of him—the danger of him hurting Steve having passed, but Dustin still being afraid that Eddie would accidentally cut himself with the glass bottle, his hands were shaking so much. 

“No, I’m—” Steve sighs, tips his head up with a shaky exhale. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s…” He looks at Dustin, finally meets his gaze properly. “I—I think.” Another sharp breath. “Dustin, I—I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“What? No, there’s—”

But Steve continues like he hasn’t even heard him. “No, no, there’s—like, something’s gone wrong, dude, really wrong. I-inside me. I’m fucked in the head.”

He grits his teeth.

And as Dustin scrambles for a response, Steve covers his face with his hands. His breathing shudders.

It takes a few seconds for Dustin to realise that Steve is crying—crying and trying to hide it, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes so fiercely that it must hurt, like he can somehow will away the tears.

“Steve,” Dustin says, and for a long moment feels completely useless. He’s never seen… he doesn’t know how the hell to approach this.

He’s used to Steve’s spiky brand of kindness, used to the eye rolls, the exasperated, “Dude, how many times, not on the inside,” when Dustin wipes his feet in his car, all the while insisting that he drive Dustin home whenever it rains.

But he doesn’t know what Steve needs from him.

Then Steve’s breathing starts to hitch, more than just the uneven rhythm of sobs; his hands fall away, and Dustin catches a flare of panic in his eyes.

It’s familiar. Makes him think of Will, how his eyes go wide sometimes, how Joyce will murmur, “Breathe with me, hon, it’ll pass. You’re okay.”

This time, when Dustin reaches for Steve’s hand, he doesn’t flinch. Instead Steve clings on, almost like it’s a reflex—like he’s at the edge of a cliff, and Dustin is pulling him back.

“Just breathe with me,” Dustin says. He over-exaggerates his breathing, takes Steve’s hand and places it over his chest so it can be felt.

“C-can’t,” Steve says.

This, at least, Dustin can work with.

“Okay, I know right now it feels like you can’t, but you totally can. Come on, would I lie to you?”

Steve shakes his head, manages a faint smile even as he wheezes—and Dustin is glad to know that even through Steve’s fear, their trust in one another remains a mutually understood thing.

“Look at my track record,” Dustin adds, “I’m always right.”

Steve catches his breath enough to chuckle, just for a split second. “Smart… ass.”

Dustin tsks. “Delirious. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But what he means is I’m gonna sit with you for as long as you need.

He doesn’t know how long it takes, realises too late that he’d forgotten to check his watch when he’d started walking. He hopes Eddie is only mildly freaking out.

Steve moves his hand away, uses it to push back his hair, sticking to his forehead from a combination of rain and sweat. But it’s only when Dustin fails to suppress an involuntary shiver that Steve startles, snaps back into action. Wipes roughly at his face, then nods to himself as if to say Enough now.

“We should go.”

And he stands with only a little jerkiness, takes barely a second to lean against the car before he’s setting off. He looks behind his shoulder expectantly, and Dustin follows.

He doesn’t know how to feel. Relieved, maybe, that Steve feels secure enough to lead the way. Concerned—because the sudden return to ‘normality’ is happening too soon; he can feel it.

As they get off the railroad tracks, begin to approach the edge of the woods, Dustin hears Eddie before he sees him—the clatter and rustle of him repeatedly dropping the flashlight, his muffled curses.

Steve doesn’t seem to notice, has drifted back into silence, blinking down at the forest floor.

Eddie comes into view, and when he sees them, he just. Stops.

“You can’t keep track of time for shit,” he tells Dustin, and his voice shakes a bit in the middle.

Steve’s head raises at that. He blinks slowly. “Eddie?”

“The one and only,” Eddie says as he steps forward, comes to a halt right in front of Steve.

And Dustin doesn’t even take a crack at how incredibly uncool that reply was, because Eddie’s eyes are flickering across Steve’s face, his clothes, like he’s putting a few more puzzle pieces together, ones that Dustin can’t see.

Eddie’s hand lightly touches Steve’s shoulder, no doubt feeling that the thin T-shirt is practically soaked through by now.

“Oh, you’re freezing,” Eddie says softly. “C’mon.”

And Eddie leads the way back to the roadside. He doesn’t touch Steve again, but his hand hovers occasionally, like he can sense that Steve might need someone to lean on.

But Steve never does.

They don’t talk, not until they reach Eddie’s van. And Steve’s car.

“The… the keys,” Steve says. It sounds flat, but only in the sense that he might not have the energy to sound panicked, even when he is.

“Right here,” Eddie says quickly. He takes them out of his jeans pocket. “Safe and sound.”

He offers them, palm open. But Steve doesn’t move. Dustin sees his jaw work a few times.

Then Steve stretches out his hand—he doesn’t take the keys, just leaves it hanging in the air. He’s shaking again.

“Eddie, I don’t think I can-” He cuts himself off, exhales. Drops his hand back down to his side. “Don’t think I can drive.”

He’s talking out the side of his mouth. It almost sounds like he’s embarrassed over Dustin potentially hearing.

Like Dustin would ever think of him differently.

Dustin kind of wants to yell at him, kind of doesn’t. Wants to hug him.

Above all, wants to make Steve understand that he doesn’t ever have to drive people around again. It doesn’t matter, none of it does, because Dustin will love him regardless.

“Okay,” Eddie says. He gestures to Steve’s car. “You trust me with—?”

“Yeah,” Steve says before Eddie has finished speaking, as if he’s answering another question.

“Okay,” Eddie repeats. “How about… you two watch over my van? And I’ll drive the car to yours.”

“How’re you gonna get back here?” Dustin asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Walk?” Then he laughs slightly. “Nah, just kidding. I’ll hitch a ride.”

“Eddie,” Steve says warningly, and honestly Dustin gets it: the town might’ve largely cooled off, sure, but that doesn’t mean most people would tolerate giving Eddie a lift anywhere.

But Eddie just tuts, ushering them over to the van and flinging the door open. Steve seems to follow on automatic pilot, heads inside and sits with his back pressed against the interior, posture like it was in the junkyard. Rigid.

Eddie watches Steve’s movements, and Dustin catches him biting his lip. But he stops as soon as Steve looks his way, gives a gentle kind of smile.

“I’ll be fine, there and back,” Eddie says. “Honestly, Harrington, haven’t you heard? I’m very charming.”

And Eddie steps away, Steve’s keys in hand—but not before giving Dustin a look that he knows means that instead of watching over the van, his instructions are to watch over Steve.

#okay this’ll most likely be 3 parts now. um i think #steve and dustin #dustin henderson fic #steddie with dustin’s pov #steve harrington #dustin henderson #eddie and dustin #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #henderfam

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOUR

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 3.8+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

4:00 ──ㅇ──────────────── 24:00

BIRDIE created a groupchat. 

BIRDIE added DINGUS, NANCE, JOHNNY, & ARGYLE 😎

DINGUS: why the fuck is my name dingus

BIRDIE: so… are we going to talk about how in love they look in that photo?

NANCE: Eddie looks like he’s going to commit a federal crime, Robin.

DINGUS: how do i change my name

ARGYLE 😎: a sign of true love my friends

BIRDIE: @NANCE SEE? he gets it. 

JOHNNY: Is this chat really necessary? 

DINGUS: guys seriously. how the fuck do i change my name?

—

HOUR FOUR - 7:00 PM

Let the record show that you don’t normally care about Lord of the Rings. You’d seen the movies out of obligation to your friends, nothing more, nothing less. You usually held complete indifference towards the trilogy. As a matter of fact, you’d nearly given Robin an aneurysm the day you’d informed them all you preferred the Hobbit trilogy over the original movies. 

Eddie, it seems, holds a similar sentiment to Robin. 

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch and looking far more comfortable than he had previously. A bottle of cheap beer dangles carelessly in his hand. He’d decided to grab both of you one the moment this argument had begun, “You casually bring up Gandalf, and then you proceed to have the worst opinions on the greatest franchise of all time. A crime against humanity.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely through genuine laughter. 

You were laughing. You were sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his apartment, laughing with him rather than at him. It was a fluke in the system, a blip in the Universe. You tell yourself it’s just the effects of the beer. 

“What’s next? You tell me you prefer Star Wars over Star Trek? Or, let me guess, you’ve never read the books?” 

He looks nice like this, at ease. This hour might be setting the track record for the longest the two of you had gone without insulting one another, and you begin to wonder why you’d never been able to hold such a civil conversation with him before tonight. The two of you might not be agreeing or seeing completely eye to eye, but there was enough agreement to keep the entire debate chugging along. 

He notices your silence as you take a sip of the beer you’ve nearly polished off, smirking around the rim of it, a bit of beer lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Oh my God. You’ve never read the books.” 

“I never said that!”

“You never said you did!”

Your mouth is open, fighting back at the curl of the corners, unable to defend yourself because he was right. “I- Who even reads anymore?” 

“Excuse me?” his voice pitches as he sits up straight suddenly, “Oh, no. There’s no way you just said that. There’s no way you don’t read.” 

You shrug, and his beer is quickly set to the side. 

“C’mon, everyone reads. You’ve got to have a guilty pleasure book.” 

“Nope,” you tuck your bottle between your thighs, and catch the way his eyes had followed the bottle before snapping back to yours, “I just prefer the movies, I guess.” 

“No one prefers the movies. You’re a goddamn liar,” he shakes his head and some of the frizzy curls fall against his collar bones rather than continuing to tickle his shoulders, “You have to read something. Romance novels, boring essays, the news. Hell, even magazines or that written porn shi-” he cuts off when you smile at the mention of magazines. “Why are you smiling like that? Stop it. It’s creepy. Do you read those porno books?”

“God, no,” you laugh. A lie - you’d certainly read excerpts from Fifty Shades of Grey he was referencing to understand what the hype was to no prevail, “Just ironic you bring up magazines. You probably consider yourself a real connoisseur, don’t you?” 

He flushes crimson. His cheeks that had tinged pink from the warmth of the beer are now flaming red. “I have no idea what you mean.”

He clearly did. 

“Right,” you drawl, “So which article in that Playboy caught your eye? The one about the psychological deep dive into what makes sex so great, or the interview with that one porn star? No, wait, I got it! It was totally the one that gave fifteen ways to drive a girl crazy-”

“It’s not a fucking Seventeen magazine,” he snaps, but the malice in his voice is dull, “There’s no lists on how to get the girl, it’s a porn ‘zine, Jesus H. Christ.” 

“I know that, do you?” you press, reveling in the brush crawling its way down the side of his neck. 

He runs a hand over his face, groaning, “I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer. Fuck off.” 

“Do you just ignore all the photos of the beautiful women?” you don’t hold back your teasing, subconsciously leaning his way as your voice lilts with sarcasm, “Ignoring all those bushes? Or maybe you just prefer the Brazilian cut?” 

“I liked it better when we were talking about your illiteracy,” he deadpans, staring straight ahead at his entertainment center. 

“I never said I couldn’t read, just that I choose not to most of the time,” you finally pull back a bit, scared to push it all too far. You pull your legs up beneath you on the couch and move the beer that has gone warm to the table on the opposite end as his, “Sue me for trying to make friendly conversation.” 

You await his expected response about how this was not friendly conversation. You start to do mental gymnastics of a way to bring up the specific model he had marked the pages of, of the eerie resemblance she bears to you and a way to push his buttons regarding it. This conversation was following your script, not his.

Or at least, it was. 

“Fine. I prefer the bush, I always find the lack of hair kind of weird,” he says, throwing you off your game effectively. He stares at you with now expecting eyes, “What about you?”

You’re grateful you’d stopped nursing the beer, or you surely would have choked, “What?” 

“What’s your preference?” he clarifies, not backing down, “On yourself, on partners. Whatever.” 

“I- I don’t- I never-” you stumble over your words, at a complete loss for an answer. It only makes him smirk as he’s now the one leaning in closer, close enough to catch the smell of his cologne concentrated on him. 

You hadn’t realized you’d adjusted the boyish smell of the apartment until this very moment. 

“See? Not so fun when you’re the one getting asked the personal questions.” 

He’s right – you shouldn’t dish out what you can’t handle him throwing back into your face. 

“Fine,” you mimic him, squaring your shoulders, “Bush.”

“On yourself or others?” 

“Myself,” there was no use in being shy now, “But also on, uh, partners. Kind of unfair to expect something from someone I wouldn’t give in return.” 

He nods in surprising consideration at the notion. His face twists as if he’s taking words you’d thrown out there so carelessly to heart, as if there’s some hidden message that even you hadn’t realized was laced in the notion. For a moment, you start to believe he’s committing the words to memory before he answers you. 

“That’s fair,” is all he says. 

A moment of intense thought for that?

“What? That’s all you’ve got to say?” you scoff, and busy yourself with the beer again out of nerves. It’s warm and bitter on your tongue, but it’s better than looking him in the eyes. Warm, honey eyes you’d never really cared to notice before.

“Yeah,” he lifts his shoulders into an offhand shrug, “I mean, what else is there to say? Like you said, you can’t expect something from someone you can’t return.” 

Another silence drags out, and this time, it’s stifling. You never thought you’d live to see the day where Eddie being quiet would bother you, but it does. The lack of words in the air is leaving too much room for thought from both of you. It’s giving you too much time to think on those warm, honey eyes and those damn dimples. Trivial things about Eddie that you don’t care to remember past tonight. 

“My friend collects vintage Playboys,” you blurt out, internally cursing yourself immediately. What a stupid conversation segway. 

Should have teased him about the dog-eared pages, you regretfully think as you dare to look his way. 

His face is surprisingly smooth, eyebrows quirking up into the frayed edges of his bangs, “Oh really?”

You nod, “Yeah. Hell of a lot more bushes in the seventies.” 

A lot less of that model you like, you silently add, once more not voicing that concern out loud.

The dimples return. Those fucking dimples. “Hm, guess I should check them out, then.” 

“She collects them for aesthetic purposes,” you continue to ramble, filling the air, unsure of why you’re even defending yourself. You’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to dissect the small piece of your life you’ve offered, “It’s… It’s really cool, actually.”  

“It sounds cool,” he agrees gently. 

The other shoe is left dangling in the air, if it even continues to exist. 

You think about his earlier question, of whether you really wanted to keep up a miserable act for the entire twenty four hours. If the last hour hadn’t already solidified your answer, you knew now for a matter of fact that he had a point, even if he did proceed to insult you after the question. You didn’t want to spend this time miserable. The passing of time came easier when it was like this, all rounded-edged banter and friendly words exchanged. When Eddie Munson wasn’t being an asshole and making personal digs at you, he was actually a nice person to have around. 

You’d never tell him that, of course.

“It’s why I collect all that,” he motions his hand towards the shelving of figurines and trinkets, “I just think it’s cool, you know? I… Uh, I sort of lied earlier. Most of that shit isn’t that expensive. But it’s not about how much it’s worth money-wise, it’s just worth a lot to… to me.” 

A glimpse of crimson, a flash of vulnerability that proves that Eddie has a heart just as you do. It beats erratically, and it can bleed just the same. 

“That makes sense,” you offer in response. You may not get it, but you wouldn’t push his buttons on the topic. They may be nothing but clutter from your perspective, but the same could be said about the vintage Playboys your friend collects. The same could be said about plenty of things that are sentimental to you. “Doesn’t it get creepy, though? Like, you bring home a girl-”

“Or a guy,” he interjects, making you smile. 

“You bring home a girl, or a guy, and you’ve just got Gandalf staring you down while you make a move. Or… Or, Darth Vader?” you squint to pinpoint another figurine, “Is that Darth Vader? Didn’t you say Star Trek is better than Star Wars?” 

“Never said that,” he points at you with a tilt of his head, “I just don’t prefer Star Wars over Star Trek.”

“Have you seen Star Wars? It’s way more entertaining.” 

“Have you seen Star Trek?” he counters, but it’s clearly rhetorical as he continues on, “I like both. Having a preference for one doesn’t mean I’m completely against the other. Besides, the light saber effects are fucking incredible.” 

“So you prefer the prequels?” you ask eagerly. 

“I guess. I mean, the original trilogy is still badass and a classic,” he stands abruptly, and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, but he just walks over to the Darth Vader figurine to pick it up and bring it back over with him as he flings down onto the couch, now several spaces closer to you rather than opposing ends, “It’s kind of hard to beat the ‘Luke, I am your father’ reveal,” his voice dips down to a deep tone, a fairly spot on impersonation, “But it was also nice seeing his origin story.” 

“Plus Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen are gorgeous,” you add, almost daring to lean over and bump shoulders with him. But you don’t. You keep what little space remains between the two of you. 

“Of course,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “The eye candy is what gets you.” 

“And the cool effects!”

“Right. Next you’re going to say you definitely watched for the plot, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“And the plot’s name just happens to be Ewan.” 

You bite down the grin that starts to ache your cheeks, because you’re not supposed to smile around Eddie this much. “Now you’re getting it.” 

The hand holding the Darth Vader figurine suddenly thrusts out in your direction, and you find yourself jumping a bit. When you don’t take it, he waves it around a bit, raising an eyebrow, “It doesn’t bite, you know.” 

“You said to not touch your shit.”

It’s a pathetic lie, you both know it. But he doesn’t know how scared you are to brush fingertips with him, how the way his arm being so close has electricity buzzing from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. One small shift, one outreached hand, and your skin would brush his. 

It would surely be nuclear. An explosion with no survivors, least of all you. 

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve disregarded that rule the entire time, why start being a goody two shoes now?” he teases. 

Which is fine, except Eddie teases a certain way – with his entire body. His knee knocks into yours, he leans into your space, a boyish grin spreads over his lips. You’ve seen him dance around this kind of lighthearted conversation with everyone else in your friend group except you. It’s uncharted territory, and your heart nearly breaks out of your chest from its rapid racing.

You’re just lucky that there’s two layers of jeans between your knees. The nuclear explosion will have to wait for another day.

Instead of an answer, you reach out and grab the figurine nimbly by the small leg. Your fingertips narrowly evade Eddie’s and you’re eternally grateful and his arm retracts. You poke and prod, gently wiggling the red, flexible stick that serves as his lightsaber and pinch at the edges of his cape. 

In your silence, Eddie speaks, “It’s not a crazy collectible or anything, like I said. It probably would have been more valuable to keep it in its packaging, but one time Wheeler brought his little sister over while they were in town, and she wanted to see him out of the box, so I took him out. You know Wheeler, right?” 

You shake your head, inspecting the figurine even closer now. It still looks brand new; you’d never be able to tell that a child, presumably, had played with the ‘toy’. 

“Oh,” Eddie looks taken back, faltering slightly, “Sorry, I- I just sort of assumed that…. You, uh…. You had met Steve’s children.” 

“Oh!” your head shoots up from where your nose had been nearly pressed into the figure, taking in the detailing of the chest piece, “You mean Mike? I’ve heard about him, yeah. Just in passing, though.”

There’s more for Eddie to say, it’s clear in the way his mouth falls open with the corners quirked, but then you’re interrupted by a phone ringing. 

Your phone. 

Steve’s contact photo occupies the screen for the second time tonight, a ridiculous photo of him scowling at the camera in a yellow jumper while holding a can of pringles in front of him, one of his hands bringing a single chip to his pouting lips. 

“Let me answer it,” Eddie insists, holding out his hand as you stare down at the phone, still chiming annoyingly. 

“Were they supposed to call this often?” you ask, knowing well enough that Eddie didn’t have the answer. 

His hand waves in impatience, and you don’t put up a fight as you let him take the phone and swipe the answering bar, focusing instead on the Darth Vader discarded into your lap as he puts the call on speaker. 

“Hello?” Eddie answers in a chirpy tone. 

“How many times do we have to te- hold on. Munson?” Steve starts off aggressive, but his tone melts into confusion, “Why the hell are you answering her phone?” 

“Because I’ve murdered her,” he flatly replies, but his face doesn’t match his tone at all. 

He fucking winks at you. Your grip on Darth Vader tightens until you’re afraid you're about to snap it. 

“Not funny.”

“Not a joke.”

“Where is she, Eddie?” Steve sighs like an irritated parent, in no mood for games, “Please tell me you didn’t manage to make her lock herself in a room again.” 

“I told you. She’s gone. Sacrificed to the Dark Lord or whatever. Just got to go dump her body in the lake-”

You shouldn’t joke along with him, but you still whisper the correction of, “The canals.” 

“Sorry, I mean the canals.”

Another deep sigh. You can picture the way Steve was currently pinching the bridge of his nose at the two of you. 

“I heard her, you idiot. Now that we know you’re both clearly alive and well…. Where the hell is our photo proof?” 

You both share a look, and you quickly mouth, already?  

Eddie shrugs and mouths back, I guess. 

“We lost track of time,” you finally say out loud, still locked in eye contact with Eddie. His brown eyes are surprisingly captivating, several autumn shades all woven together. Burnt orange leaves, red apples, brown sweaters. You never thought you’d be able to see a season in someone’s irises, yet here you were, picturing it clear as day. “Let us hang up and we’ll send the photo.” 

Steve starts to speak, but Eddie’s thumb is quick to end the call. The moment your lock screen stares back at both of you, you look at the time. 

7:41. Shit. 

“Oops,” Eddie whispers as he hands the phone back over, “They really gave us quite the grace period that time.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, quickly opening your damn camera app. “So, how do we want to do this one?” 

Eddie thinks for a moment before he launches himself back to his side of the couch, and motions for you to toss him your phone. 

And once again, you put your faith in him, not even hesitating this time. 

It happens naturally; you both mirror each other, drawing up your knees, your sock-clad toes bumping firmly against one another. Your back is supported by the worn arm behind you, similar to how Eddie’s is, as you face him. 

He quickly angles the camera towards you, sticking a hand out into the frame while raising his middle finger. You don’t know what to do, so one hand holds up the Darth Vader as the other mimics flipping him off. 

A soft click from your phone. The photo’s taken, and you’re not even sure if you were smiling. 

“Trade,” he leans forward, one hand holding out your phone, the other reaching out for Darth Vader. 

You oblige, and go through the same process for his photo. His white socks contrast your black ones, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards no matter how hard of a line he presses them into. You can’t look at him directly, and settle for watching him through the screen as you hit the small grey button to snap the photo. 

Just as quickly as he had shoved away from you, he’s back at your side, watching you send off the photos to the group chat with a thumbs up emoji. You take a deep breath, scanning over the pair of photos until it’s confirmed that they’re delivered, and lock your phone. Your brows are furrowed in your reflection staring back at you through the black screen. 

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours?” Eddie’s voice echoes in your mind. 

No, you don’t. No matter how wrong this levity with Eddie feels, no matter how uncomfortable it is each time you remember that he’s meant to be the enemy and not someone to share laughter and smiles with, you don’t want to waste these remaining twenty hours being miserable. 

“What’s up?” Eddie’s actual voice echoes in real time as you continue to stare at your reflection.

“Just thinking,” you grunt. The thought of admitting your decision to Eddie is much more intimidating than simply acknowledging it to yourself. 

“Dangerous.” 

Instead of quipping something rude back, you decide to be vulnerable with Eddie. You decide to crack yourself open just a small bit, just as he had done microscopically when he spoke of his collection of items. It’s a dangerous gamble, and you don’t give yourself the chance to overthink it. 

“You were right, earlier,” you force the words out, fighting the way they try to cling onto your tongue and remain safely in your throat. 

“About… what?” He looks distrusting, and for good reason. He said plenty of things earlier - you could be preparing to remind him of any number of rude things he’d spewed. 

“About keeping up the miserable act,” you explain, turning your head to him and abandoning the phone, “You were right. I don’t want to be miserable this entire time. It… It goes by faster when we’re not about to strangle each other, believe it or not.” 

You swear you see his shoulders sag in relief. “Well, yeah, I could have told you that. I did tell you that, actually.” 

“Shut up,” you force a scowl, “My point is… I don’t know, maybe, we could try to- try to just- we could be-”

“Civil?” he finishes the sentence you stumble over. 

You nod, “Yeah. We could be civil.”

The word feels foreign on your tongue. Civility was not something you’d ever considered with Eddie, but the last hour had proven it to be possible. 

“Okay,” he nods along with you. He turns his entire body to face you, knees once again bumping as he sticks out a hand for you to shake, “Deal. We will try to be civil the rest of the time.” 

“Civil,” you repeat yourself again, more sure this time, still staring at his offered hand.

An olive branch. The opportunity to work together to survive the next twenty hours. The opportunity for his bare skin against yours. 

You think again of nuclear explosions and pulsing electricity, of open chests and matching scarlets, of smashing glasses against walls and ruined parties, of wounds healing over in scar tissues as they glow a gentle pink.

Civil. You wonder if that’s one of the words they’ll include on your gravestone as you reach out your hand and let Eddie’s palm meet yours. 

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#twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #let's see if i can get it to post in one try this time

[eiightysixbaby]

How do you think the boys would react to reader asking them to spank her in the bedroom 😏

heheheheheh….. ohhhhh boy

Eddie just about loses his shit, I feel like that’s just something Eddie is into and so at first, when you make no mention of it, he’s debating how he can bring it up to you because he wants to try it with you. But when you finally initiate the conversation, flat out asking him to spank you one night while he’s fucking you, he literally has to remind himself to keep (some of) his composure. He doesn’t need to be asked twice, instantly slapping his hand to your ass in one swift motion. When you moan at the contact it makes him even fucking harder inside of you, his hand gripping the flesh of your ass so tightly before smacking it again. It becomes a staple in the bedroom, Eddie especially loving when he’s fucking you from behind because your ass is on the best display for him then. He loves to get you screaming, your ass stinging, testing your limits for how much you can take. If you can’t sit the next day, it’s a win in his book.

I think Jonathan would be so shy about it at first, he does not want to hurt you so when you ask him about spanking you he’s hesitant. It takes a lot of reassurance on your part that you think it feels good, you want him to do it and he’s not going to be hurting you in a bad way. When he first tries it out, he doesn’t have the confidence to give you a good smack. His palms slap your ass lightly, turning into his fingers squeezing the flesh rather than truly spanking. With some encouragement, though, he can definitely learn. I think once he gets more comfortable with it, once he sees how much you love it and hears how you cry his name when his hand cracks down on your soft flesh, then he’s spanking you any chance he gets. He can definitely play rough sometimes, it just takes some extra encouragement.

I feel like Steve is the type to especially love spanking when it’s in a “punishment” sort of context. He’ll spank you while he fucks you, has absolutely no problem with that, but something about him just makes me feel like he loves to have you bent over his lap, ass facing up, spanking you till you’re nearly crying. When you first ask him to spank you, he’s basically countering that question with, “well, how far do you want me to take this?” because he just goes crazy at the thought of spanking you when you’ve been acting out. He loves pushing you to your limits too, big palms cracking against your ass over and over again while you ride him, watching your face contort into that perfect mix of pain and pleasure. He’s so confident and cocky when you moan for him to do it again, and absolutely loves the way he can get you so worked up just from this.

#leah’s got mail 💌 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #jonathan byers #jonathan byers x fem!reader #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers smut #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Arguments ✨

Summary; It's Friday and you have the worst headache in the world, To make your day even worse you and Eddie get into an argument, and Eddie snaps telling you to leave Hellfire.

When the headache overwhelms you and Eddie finds out he is anxious to see you.

Warnings; Angst, fluff. Kinda mean Eddie? Jealous Eddie, minors dni

I don't give anyone permission to copy my work.

❤️✨

❤️✨🌸

You were having the worst day, on top of a bad headache, you had had an argument with Eddie.

When you were sick, you could get irritated or emotional quite easily, Eddie had made some remark about one of Jason's friends Matt who kept staring at you.

"Why does that asshole keep staring at you? It's fucking weird" Your head snaps up and you frown. There was already tension between the two of you because you tried out for the cheer squad and made it.

"Didn't realize it was so weird that someone finds me attractive" you reply wounded.

He pauses and shakes his head.

"I didn't mean it like that sweetheart?" he assures you and you raise an eyebrow.

"Well, how did you mean it? It's weird that someone may find me cute?" he shakes his head.

"You're putting words in my mouth. I just mean that it's those assholes, they are doing it to piss off Hellfire, jocks, cheerleaders, they join up to the dark side and they are all the same"

This wounds you, does he think you're like that?

"No not all of us. Some of the jocks are nice, and Chrissy is a sweetheart. Do you think I'm like that?" he looks frustrated now.

"Is there much point in me saying anything else sweetheart because you'll literally just take everything I say the wrong way"

Gareth jumps into the conversation and you massage your head which is so sore that it nearly brings tears to your eyes.

"Calm down you two, things are getting heated here and they don't need to be" Eddie angrily folds his arms across his chest and glares at Gareth.

"I'm not the one who started it" you huff and get up having enough of Eddie.

"Fine blame me, when you're the one who made stupid remarks" you fume at him and Dustin looks worried.

"Where are you going? We're discussing tonights campaign" your mood softens as you look at Dustin, he was a sweet kid.

"Sorry Dustybun, think I'll skip tonight" It's not like you'd feel welcome anyway. Eddie scowls.

"You miss tonight and you're out" There are angry protests to Eddie's ultimatum and your stomach drops at his cold gaze.

"Fine" you snap and storm away. You don't cry until you're well away from the cafeteria.

💕

Gym. Just to make things worse for your head you now need to compete in dodgeball.

Usually you enjoyed the game but after your argument with Eddie you just wanted to curl up at home in bed and ignore the world for a little while.

But you couldn't, you had cheer practice, no Hellfire though so you could go home straight after but it wouldn't stop you from missing everyone.

Eddie must have skipped gym because you don't see him anywhere, you try to focus on the game and not the argument the two of you had.

It's made even harder by how dizzy you feel as you're running around and it's almost a relief when two balls hit you so you're out of the game.

Except one hits you on you're already sore head and the pain is so intense, you cry out and the dizziness overwhelms you and you faint.

💕💕

"Back off everyone, give her some air" you wake up to a few classmates staring down on you.

Chrissy is beside you looking as worried as your gym teacher Mr Bennett.

Nurse Watts comes in and checks you over when you tell her about your raging headache and dizziness.

"Sounds a lot like a headcold honey, you need to go straight home and rest"

"I have cheer practice I can't go home" you say anxiously to the nurse and Chrissy squeezes your hand.

"As your cheer captain, I order you to go home and rest up" This relaxes you a little bit and a few of your classmates help you up including a worried Jeff.

"I'll be fine, can you drive me home, please Jeff? Eddie usually does after Hellfire but...

Well, with the two of you not talking that wouldn't be happening, nods and motions you to follow him to his car as he takes you home.

He hangs around for a little bit and it's a relief to have someone with you. However, Hellfire is soon close to starting so you tell him to go.

Once Jeff leaves after making sure you are okay you get a big glass of water, some pain meds then change into your comfiest clothes and cuddle up in bed.

💕💕

Jeff races into the drama room ten minutes after Hellfire starts and Eddie is already grumpy after his argument with you.

"Now after that interruption let us finally begin the campaign kay?" he announces and the others nod excited but occasionally glancing at your empty seat.

It feels strange without you here, Eddie feels it too and the ache in his chest since the fight the two of you had.

Jeff is trying to think of a way to mention what happened at gym but decides to say it after the session ends.

It's Mike who ends up saying about it as they are finishing up.

"Did you hear that yn fainted in gym class today?" Eddie's head snaps up and his stomach drops, he was doing a deal during class then setting up Hellfire with some of the guys.

Why didn't he hear about this sooner? Jeff speaks up.

"I was trying to tell you that dude, the ball hit her on the head and she fainted. Said she's been feeling shitty all day" Jeff trials off at Eddie's livid.

All that Eddie can think about now is getting to you, making sure you're alright.

Fuck, the argument. You meant more to Eddie than some disagreement. More than anyone else knew.

He let you see sides of him no one else had, sides he kept hidden away.

"Shit, I have to see her. Sheeples do me a favour and clean up yeah?" he races out as quickly as he can and into his van, anxious to see you.

💕💕

A light tapping on your window wakes you up around nine-ish, you've slept for hours but still feel sore.

Eddie is at your window and you get up gingerly, wincing at your achy muscles.

"What are you doing here?" you ask not wanting a repeat of earlier.

"I heard what happened. Wanted to see if you were okay, to apologise"your eyes widen.

"You did?" he nods and helps you back into bed.

"Look, I'm not apologising for hating the jocks, maybe some of the cheerleaders as they can be just as bad. I'll never apologise for despising Jason and his goons but not all of the dark side is bad. You aren't"

"You mean a lot to me you know that princess, I've opened up to you in ways I haven't opened up to anyone. You mean so fucking much to me and it's not weird Matt was staring at you because you're amazing and beautiful. I was jealous"

Knowing how difficult this is for him, letting his emotions out like this softens you.

"So you don't want me out of Hellfire then?" he shakes his head.

"No, I don't. You're the one person in this shitty town who I never want to lose" your hands entwine with his.

"I'm not going anywhere, Eddie" he smiles, all dimples.

"I think the cheerleading thing is pretty cool you know? Might have to attend a game to see you in action" This makes you giggle as he mimics the cheerleading.

"Unless you would prefer that Matt douche cheering for you" he fake smiles and you sigh, god he really doesn't see it does he.

"Edward Munson, I don't want Matt at all" he tentaively strokes your cheek.

"You're my girl sweetheart, I can't stand the thought of you with that dickhead or anyone"

"Ditto", it's pretty much how you feel for Eddie. He moves closer to you, his eyes yearning, a vulnerability there as he lets his walls down.

"Kiss me" you urge gently and he doesn't need to be told twice as his lips meet yours.

You were his girl, his heart. You had been for a while and you always would be.

💕

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #mean eddie

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 96

Part 1 Part 95

Mom makes him go home when he starts dosing on Steve’s hospital bed. But it’s okay because she kisses Steve’s cheek before she leaves, and Eddie and Wayne stay parked by his side. 

The connection’s easier now. It’s like all that time straining for Steve has snapped something into place. He can feel them all the time, a warm buzzing in his chest. He wonders if he runs hot now. If the warmth will diffuse through his whole being, make coats obsolete even in the dead of winter. 

Hopper is waiting for them in the waiting room, El burrowed into his side. She looks wan, and tired, drooping into her extravagant coat, eyeliner running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. Something inside him twists when he looks at her.

Before he can untangle that knot of emotion, Hopper stands up, both hands slapping against his knees first the same way Mike’s dad does before he gets up from his recliner. “You ready to go?” he asks, not looking away from Mom. 

When Will glances up, Mom’s smiling up at Hopper in a way he doesn’t want to think about. The adults talk quietly in front, leaving El to stumble tiredly along beside Will. She’s staring at the side of his face. Will can’t bring himself to look back. 

“Steve,” she says, sounding the word out and making it longer like it still tastes foreign on her tongue. “He is okay?”

When Will gets up the courage to look over, her eyes are big and worried. He smiles at her helplessly. It’s almost funny how innocent she looks; like she’s a bunny dressed up in punk clothes. “He’ll be okay.”

She smiles, small and close lipped, but it still beams out of her like the sun. Will tilts his head to the side and tries to see what Mike sees in her. He wants to hide her in Castle Byers, build a fortress around her, and keep her away from all the lab people for the rest of her life. 

Is that howMike felt, hiding her in his basement, giving her frozen eggos and keeping his mouth shut? 

But then her lips thin and she looks forward again. The feelings vanishes. It’s just El, hia friend, despite how much of Mike’s attention she’d snapped up just by being herself. 

“I’m glad,” she says, looking at Hopper’s broad back as she takes two steps for each one of his. 

It’s quiet after that, the way it always is after; all of them too brittle and bruised and bone-deep tired for conversation.

Hopper’s truck rat-a tat-tats itself to life in the hospital parking lot. The radio croons out something quiet and thrumming until Hopper reaches over to shut it off.

El’s heads smushed into the window, vibrating against the pot-holed roads of Hawkins.

Will’s so tired he’s wide awake. 

He watches the familiar buildings of Hawkins flicker by. It's been a long time since knowing his surroundings brought any comfort. 

Monsters could live behind every door, every tree, every smiling face.

He’s not sure any of them will ever feel safe again. 

Will closes his eyes, locking the scenery out so he can focus on the bundle of warmth in his chest. They’re still huddled together, two sparks merging in his chest. 

The past couple days have been a necessary violation of Eddie’s private feelings. He’d bared them all with love confessions and grasping hands, trying to pull Steve back from the edge of immolation. 

He’s not even sure Steve knows, hopes he does. Steve deserves to hold that love delicately between his palms and choose what to do with it. 

He won’t crush it, even if it’s unreturned. He’ll hold it gently like he always does.

Will doesn’t realize he fell asleep, or that they’d arrived home until he’s in free-fall. It feels like one of those falling dreams where you wake up solidly in the middle of your bed, but this time he really is tumbling, only Jonathan’s arms keeping him from hitting the gravel. 

“Are you okay?” he asks shakily as he pulls Will into his chest, holding him tight enough to hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom murmurs, wrapping them both up in her arms, chin landing solidly on Jonathan’s shoulder, sandwiching Will between their bodies. “Everyone’s fine, right Will?”

Will murmurs his affirmation, feeling groggy and confused in the light of day. 

“I was with Nancy,” Jonathan whispers. “I was just with Nancy, and you were–I almost–”

“Shh,” Mom cuts him off, reaching up to cradle his face and smile up at him. Will barely catches the edge of his watering eyes from his restricted vantage point between them. “Everyone’s fine.”

“I should have been he–”

“Jonathan,” Mom interrupts again, sharper this time. “Everyone is fine. You deserve a normal life.”

“But Will–”

“I’m fine!” Will cuts in this time. 

Jonathan pulls back, looking down at him with worried, droopy eyes. “And Steve? Mike said he was possessed.”

Will feels that bundle of warmth in his heart, lets it shine through his smile as he looks up at his brother. “He’ll be okay.” As Jonathan droops with relief, Will feels his smile turn cheeky. “Eddie will never let you forget that you were on a date while we were fighting monsters, though.”

Jonathan closes his eyes, pained while Mom laughs. 

It’s not until they’re walking toward the front door that Will notices the lack of demo-dog bodies. There’s still puddles of black oil-slick blood, but everything else looks normal. Who covered their tracks? The lab? Hopper?

He settles down for the debrief, pillowing his head on Jonathan’s shoulder as Hopper’s even tones flit through his brain. 

Maybe familiar places no longer hold any comfort, but Jonathan’s bony frame is enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Part 97

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #will byers #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #Steve pov: I'm a wretch and a monster and everything is my fault #will pov: steve's so comforting :) #also Jonathan freaking out because he missed everything is something that is so fun to me. He's like. I'm a terrible brother! #Meanwhile Nancy only has low stakes in the whole thing. And she never got involved so by the time she knew to worry about Mike. #She already knew he was fine. so her main reaction is feeling left out. #Nancy is so fun in this AU because her inciting character incident (Barb's death) shapes so much of who she is #that we have like maybe one episode of characterization to work off of wrt what she was like before #anyway I'm sick so we'll see how much writing I can actually get done while feverish!

[rottenaero]

Family video was slow, as it always was on Mondays. Steve’d been stuck on shift by himself, and he passed time by flipping through the same five magazines that have been sitting in the desk drawer since before Robin and him had arrived.

Movies became a-lot less entertaining when you had to watch them 24/7, and you start learning the difference between a good film and a wannabe-camp.

Internally, he winced.

Robin was definitely rubbing off on him. All those days where she sat on the counter beside him, pointing directly at the screen, ranting about how unrealistically the girls are portrayed.

“Whiney and boy-obsessed, Steve!” She yelps. On the screen, Back to The Future is playing, and Marty’s mother is insisting he stay in her room.

He leans forward, onto the counter, and tilts a twizzler towards her. “Pretty sure it’s meant to be hot to people. Like imagining that it’s you she’s saying this shit to.”

“Of course it’s hot! But if it’s my mother then I wouldn’t be hanging around.” She hisses. At the same time Marty runs out of the door.

Instead of an action movie, or romance, he’s got The Parent Trap playing. It’s sweet enough that the occasional parent with a ‘sick’ child wadding behind them doesn’t scream at him for violent or sexual scenes.

The sound isn’t loud enough to disrupt him reading, which he’s thankful for.

The bell rings, and he throws out a, “Welcome to family video, I’m here if you need anything!” Without looking up.

“Harrington!” A familiar voice crows, and he rolls his eyes. Sets his magazine down open on the counter. He eyes Eddie, who has a grin already lining his face.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at school, failing your forth year?” He tuts, no real malice in his voice. Eddie sighs dramatically. “It hurts me that you forget. They let me off the hook! Free graduation baby!”

Steve stands, approaches where the register is, and leans his forearms onto the counter. “And, uh, when was this?”

He gets an unimpressed look. “You were there.”

“Was I?” His voice lilts, and he has to hold back a laugh at Eddie’s furrowed brow.

“You helped me get ready.”

“Does not ring a bell.”

“You talked me down from giving Higgins giving me the finger!”

“Hmm…” Steve hums conspiratorially. “You know, still doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Shithead!” Eddie yelps. A college girl from another aisle, that definitely should be at school, giggles. He sends a little finger wave to her while he speaks. “Munson, you better be glad that it wasn’t a mother.”

“Steve, Stevie, Steven-”

“Not my name.”

“Steven, you remember.” Eddie grins, and the girl starts walking towards them with two tapes in her arms.

“Is this all?” Steve asks with his customer service voice, as he shoos Eddie to the side. The girl smiles sweetly. “Yes, well…Actually I don’t have an account. Don’t you need a number for that?” She asks. Eddie scrunches his nose from the side.

“Yeah, what’s your name?” Steve slides to the create an account, and she spews out her name, and her number. “It already exists.”

“Oh,” Her voice isn’t shocked at all, “Well, how about you keep the digits to yourself? Maybe give me a call?” Eddie backs up, and fake gags out of her view. Steve gives him a glare. “Alright, well, your total is 5.27.”

She hands him the change, lets her fingers brush his before walking out with her discs. As soon as she’s gone, Steve lets his face fall. He rounds on the metalhead.

“Dude!”

Eddie tilts his head, “What’d I do?”

“What if she saw you?”

He sighs, leans onto the counter dramatically. “So I make one little face.”

“Are you going to actually buy anything?” He asks, cutting off the conversation before it just turns into a loop.

“Right, yeah! Where’s the-“ Eddie smirks, eyebrows raised, and rings the service bell before he lifts a hand like he’s using a salt grinder? “-Adult section.”

And that was definitely not salt. His nose scrunches, “Gross dude.”

Eddie shrugs innocently. “We all do it.”

“Robin doesn’t.”

“Robins not a guy.”

He’s about to bring up one of the kids, before pausing.

They’re highschoolers now, he doesn’t know what they do and he frankly doesn’t want to.

“Jonathan?” He suggests.

“Argyle has made a little too many right hand jokes about him for me to believe that.”

“God, whatever,” He sighs, points to the corner, where there’s a bead covered doorway. “Sections over there.”

He gets a salute in response before Eddies practically skipping away.

He’s so fucking weird.

Two people come in by the time he comes back out.

Which means that he was in there for a while.

He’s got three tapes in his hand when he walks back to the countertop, slams them on there. And Steve,

He really tries not to look. Because while some of the films in there are just R-rated, there are still some pornos and he doesn’t really wanna know what Eddie’s into.

But, it’s unfortunately difficult when he’s trying to scan the titles in. Eddies swaying back and forth, hands in pockets as he gets a glance at-

“Rocky Horror?” Dark brown eyes snap to him, and he nods approvingly. “Good choice.”

It doesn’t exactly fit his and Robin’s non-whiney-and-boy-obsessed-women regime, but they both enjoy it. It’s funny enough.

“You’ve- You’ve seen it?” Eddie asks, voice high pitched for a reason he can’t pin point. “Yeah, a couple times.”

“You’re sure you’ve seen this one, and not Rocky wrestler?” Eddie asks again. Steve huffs, “Yes, Janet, Brad, Tim Curry and Rocky.”

A “Huh.” Is muttered as Steve types in the title name to Eddie’s account, and moves onto the next movie. Poor Pretty Eddie, he’d never seen it, and flips it over, reading the description.

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s eyes squint as he nears the end of the paragraph. “Dude this sounds graphic, you seriously watching this with Rocky of all things?”

“I like my variety.” He states, slowly, sounding out every syllable.

Blood Thirsty Butchers is next, and Steve quickly types in the names. “What even are these movies?”

He gets a shrug. “I don’t know, I’ve only seen Rocky. You know,” Eddie smiles, leans over the counter further. “It more fun to watch a new movie with someone.”

Steve hums, “You want Darla’s number? Bet she’d watch it with you.”

“Steven,”

“Not my name!”

“Stephano!”

“Whatever,” He sighs, runs a hand through his coiffed hair. “Sure, I get off at four.”

“Seems a bit early, but whatever. What about work?”

“Ew, dude. Chill out, this is Family Video.”

“Is that why I saw a bunch of pornos back there?”

“Adult section- Just-“ Steve shoves the metalhead lightly off the countertop. “What time do you want to do this?”

An older lady walks in as Eddie talks, “How about five? You buy the pizza, and ring my shit up.”

“Or-“ Steve slides the tapes to him. “-You buy the pizza, I use my employee-free-rental on these.”

“Works for me, it’s a date, Steve.”

He shoos him away as the lady steps into the romcom section, “See you at five, freak.”

Eddie blows a kiss, “Miss you already!”

He shakes his head, grabbing his chair and magazine and dragging them to near the register.

What a weirdo.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #stranger things #crisisinverted17

[eddieschains]

Is It Actually Over?

A/N: this is a repost from when i first started my blog

Word Count: 1.2k

Part 1

TW// cheating, angst

“Whose baby is that?” Eddie questions the both of you. You look at Steve, who’s looking between you and Eddie.

“Hey Eddie.” Steve greets him with a shaky hand. Eddie ignores him and continues staring at the sleeping child in the car seat.

“Is anyone going to answer my question? Or am I just supposed to know?” You and Steve look at each other, searching for what to say. “Is she yours Harrington? Knock some poor girl up that decided she didn’t want you anymore?”

“Eddie! Stop it!” You yell at him. You motion at Steve to give you the keys to the apartment and you unlock the door, ushering Eddie inside. “You should come inside.”

You had already moved most of your furniture inside so there would be less to bring on the actual move in day. Eddie takes a seat on the hand me down couch your grandmother gifted you, as you sit in the recliner across from him. Steve sets the baby down next to you as he leaves to bring all the boxes inside.

“What’s her name?” Eddie questions, his eyes never leaving the child.

“Kelsey.” You respond, a soft smile gracing your lips.

“How can you and Steve have a kid? I’ve only been gone 7 months. Were you- were you cheating on me?” He finally looks up to meet your eyes.

“No Eddie, I would never. She’s… uh… she’s not his.” Your voice is shaky. You weren’t prepared to have this talk today, or any time soon for that matter.

You can see Eddie’s eyes welling up once again, a single tear falling from his left eye. “Are you saying that… that she’s mine?”

Steve carries the final box into the kitchen, listening in on your conversation wondering if he should stay with you or make his way to one of the bedrooms. He decides to unpack the box labeled kitchen first. That way he can give you guys your space while also keeping a close eye on things to make sure nothing goes wrong.

“Yes… she’s yours Eddie.” He lets out a laugh of disbelief, shaking his head.

“No no how- how can that be? You would’ve told me.” He protests. “And… and we used protection every time.”

“I didn’t find out until after you left. Apparently condoms don’t work 100% of the time. I wanted to tell you, I did. But you didn’t really give me a chance.” You scoff. “You didn’t leave a number Eddie. You didn’t leave a number or and address or anything. Was I supposed to just go to LA and roam the streets until I found you?”

“You knew where Wayne lived. He would’ve told you.” He stares into his lap, sniffling his tears away.

“Yeah let me just knock on Wayne’s door and tell him I need your number because i’m pregnant with your baby while you’re 2,000 miles away. That sounds like a great idea.” You stand up from your seat in the living room, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Eddie is still sat down, looking over at Kelsey again. “Can I at least hold her?”

You turn to Steve, looking for advice. He reaches for your hand giving it a squeeze. A silent let him glowing in his eyes. You finish your water, before making your way back to the living room. You pull Kelsey out of her seat, holding her as you sit down next to Eddie.

You don’t give her up quite yet. You look down at her, admiring her features as Eddie does the same. You never noticed how much she looks like him until now. Or maybe you just didn’t want to believe it. She had his thick curly brown hair, his full pink lips, and his wide brown eyes. The more you look at her, you realize the only thing she had of yours was your nose.

You take a deep breath in before handing her over to Eddie. He lays her in his arm, supporting her head with the crook of his elbow while he plays with her soft ball of curls.

“She’s beautiful.” He smiles.

“She looks like you.” You smile back. Steve senses the tension starting to fade, so he makes his way over to you. Sitting on the couch with a comforting hand placed on your thigh.

“What’s her full name?”

“Kelsey Anne Munson.” He looks up at you, trying to fight back tears for the third time today. Anne was his mothers name. Even though you thought Eddie would never come back, you still wanted Kelsey to know the people that she came from.

“After my mom? Or am I being conceited in thinking that?” A chuckle leaves your mouth.

“No. She’s named after your mom.” You smile, kissing the top of her forehead. Eddie smiles with a slight glimmer of tears welling up in his eyes as he hands her back to you, laying her back into the warmth of her mothers arms.

“So you guys are raising her together? So Steve- Steve’s like her… dad?”

Steve shakes his head. “I may be helping raise her but you’ll always be her dad, man.” Eddie smiles at Steve before returning his focus on you and Kelsey. Steve stands up to grab his keys off the kitchen table. “I’m gonna go to the grocery store so we have something to eat tonight. I’ll let you guys catch up some more.” He smiles before walking over to you, placing a kiss on your forehead and making his way out the door.

You and Eddie sit in silence for a few minutes, just admiring what the two of you created.

“So… we made a baby.” He interrupts the silence, rubbing Kelsey’s little feet.

“Yeah, yeah we did.” You chuckle, looking him in the eyes. His eyes are void of sadness. You see nothing but love glimmering in his pupils. This is the man you fell in love with. This is the man you planned on spending your whole life with. The man filled with nothing but love. You don’t realize how long you were staring at him until he pulls away for a second.

“I missed you. A lot.” Eddie admits. “I should’ve called, I should’ve come back. I shouldn’t have even left in the first place. I’m so sor-“

“Shh. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now, with your daughter. That’s all that matters Eds.” Eds. His favorite nickname. He’d never felt more content than in this moment. All the fighting before, it didn’t matter. All he cared about was that you were here.

Suddenly, his hand reaches around your neck pulling you closer to him. “Eddie… what are you doing?” Before you can get a response from him, his lips are on yours. His lips are just as soft as you remembered, and his taste, god his taste, a perfect mixture of tobacco and his favorite mint gum.

You fall deep into the kiss, your arm that isn’t holding Kelsey up snaking around to the back of his head. Your fingers intertwine with his curls, pulling lightly. Eddie moans softly into the kiss, moving one hand down your hip.

It feels like time itself has halted. The world has stopped turning. Nothing and no one left but you, your daughter, and Eddie. Neither of you pay attention to the sound of the door opening until you hear footsteps approaching.

“Steve…”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

[apomaro-mellow]

King&Prince 4

"Hey Eddie, what happens if you stick a finger up someone's ass?", Dustin asked.

Eddie choked on nothing and looked up from the map he'd been studying. He cleared his throat and flailed his hands at his young ward.

"The fuck Henderson?"

"I asked Steve about it once but he said he wouldn't tell me yet."

"Steve?!" Eddie got up while slamming his hands down. "As in the prince? As in the one I have locked away in the dungeon as we speak?"

"Yeah", Dustin replied, unbothered by the shadows shifting behind Eddie as his hair began to stand on end.

"I will say this in the simplest terms I can. Stay. Away. From Harrington."

Dustin put down the anatomy book he'd been reading. "But he's not dangerous. At least not while he's caged up. He's got pretty decent knowledge of how to hurt someone though."

"Oh I'm sure. He comes from a long line of people who live to hurt." Eddie moved from behind his desk, leaving the map behind. The fireplace was burning bright, the sun had set long ago and Eddie should have sent Dustin to bed by now, but he liked the company. "You know what his family has done."

"I do, but it's not like he's done it. He doesn't deserve to sleep in a shit hole just because his family is a bunch of assholes", Dustin said.

"And who's to say he isn't just as much of an asshole? Apples don't fall far from trees." Eddie moved to stare into the fire. He had been studying the map of his kingdom to think of ways to move his citizens and creatures. He didn't want to displace people, nor seem like he was conceding the border, but the Harringtons weren't giving him much of a choice.

"Can't you just give him some new clothes? He's literally starting to smell."

"I want you to stay out of the dungeons. You keep it up and I'll tell your mom that you're fraternizing with the enemy."

Dustin let out an offended scoff, upset that Eddie would go as far as tattling on him. Well, he had ways around that. Curious about the royal hostage, Dustin had intercepted the servant going to give him his meal and took over that task. But since Eddie told him he couldn't go anymore, Dustin got someone else instead.

Mike had to be bribed with a book, but he went and asked Steve what was worse, internal bleeding or dying of infection.

"Are you one of Dustin's friends?"

"Just answer the question so I can get outta here", Mike sighed.

"I'm not a doctor. I don't know which is worse. But infection is definitely more gross", Steve said. "Especially if it's on your-"

"On your what?", Mike pressed.

Steve considered how much of a pest Dustin was when he didn't get a straight answer and decided that having a conversation partner so he told Mike what he knew about infections while eating. Mike's jaw never left the floor.

"Eddie was wrong about you. You're so-!" Mike stopped short when Steve looked up at him. "You're uh, you're fine, I guess. Do you know a lot about gross stuff like that?"

"I don't know about a lot. I know a thing or two", Steve shrugged. That name came up again, Eddie. Steve was almost interested enough to ask about him but figured he was probably just someone else in the castle that hung out with these kids. And apparently he was someone they looked up to.

From then on, he had a rotation of visitors to bring him food. Dustin was still around, and he'd met Mike. But now there was also Lucas, who mostly asked about the fighting techniques Steve knew about. He also met Will, who usually came with a list of questions Dustin had but also asked about his kingdom in general. Something about the whole thing caught Steve off guard and he asked Dustin the next time he saw him.

"Does your king only employ children?"

"What? No, we don't get paid, but we should", Dustin rolled his eyes as he slid the food over. "We just live here. Lucas and Mike wanna be squires. And I-"

"Where are all the monsters?", Steve asked.

"You probably mean the demobeasts. They live outside, you know, like most animals." Dustin looked at him like he was stupid. It was a common expression on his face.

"They're not like, crawling around?", Steve hadn't even seen so much as a rat, even here in his cell.

"It's not a wild house", Dustin crossed his arms. "I brought one demodog into the castle and Eddie lost it just because it tore up some scrolls."

"You and this Eddie guy hang out a lot? How come you've never sent him down here?", Steve asked.

"He's pretty busy. Plus, he doesn't like you that much."

Steve didn't need to ask why. He was an enemy prince, after all. So far, only Dustin and his friends had shown him anything resembling kindness. Just a day ago, someone had been sent to 'clean' him. Which was really just tossing a bucket of cold water at him. And even those that knew him beyond his status weren't so loving and warm. It was why Steve wasn't surprised that his family had yet to burst through the doors to save him.

--------------------------

Alric had known long before he got a letter that his son had been taken and by whom. Steve's escorting party had returned much sooner than planned. Many of them injured, but none dead. They had reported to their king the events and just who was responsible. Still, Alric waited for the official word, just to see what that devil of a king wanted in exchange for his son.

It turned out to be a call to end his aggression and enter a truce. A call to discuss the details of the truce more in person. To sit at the same table as equals and figure out how to live harmoniously as neighbors.

He threw the letter into the fire.

Such terms were unthinkable, as was sending a reply of any kind. Alric would allow his silence to do the talking.

When it went on week three without any sort of word, Eddie called his council to discuss.

"What does it mean when a king doesn't care about his prince?", Eddie had asked.

"It's got to be a ploy", Nancy said. "He wouldn't abandon his only son."

"Unless he was some sort of disgrace", Jeff said. "But then again, something like that would have hit the rumor mill already."

"How can a prince be disgraced? They get away with everything", Robin commented.

Eddie was pacing around the table in the council room. "The point is, dear old dad doesn't seem to bothered with this. It's almost like he wants to be rid of him."

"So what do we do?", Jeff asked.

"We need a clearer picture", Nancy said.

"Clearer picture...", Eddie mused, pausing in his pacing. Then he let out a very loud, every exaggerated groan while bending so far backwards his head almost touched the floor. "Time to visit my favorite hostage."

Part 6

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #the party

[steddieas-shegoes]

you're not santa

i may or may not be having a small (this is a lie) crisis over liam believing in santa this year? i am 90% certain he doesn't actually believe in santa and just said he does because he thinks the cool gifts come from santa. meanwhile i am just trying to get the vibes on if i need two wrapping papers this year or not for the same amount of gifts. so anyways working through the feelings with putting the idiots in the situation as always, enjoy.

rated t | cw: the mildest innuendo | tags: fluff, modern au, married steddie, steddie dads, the magic of christmas is all of it not just santa etc

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

"You better be quieter this year," Steve slapped Eddie's still bare ass as he hurried to throw on his Christmas pajamas. "Almost woke Maddy up last year. You're lucky I was standing by the door."

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, maybe if you hadn't turned the-"

"Just go!" Steve laughed, throwing a pillow at him with deadly accuracy.

Eddie threw it back at him with a smirk. "When I get back, I'm giving you your present."

"You already did, Eds."

"No, that was just one of them," Eddie rushed to say before leaving their bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him.

Both bedroom doors were closed across the hall, so he quickly made his way down the stairs to the garage, where all the gifts were hiding since Robin dropped them off earlier that day.

But when Eddie opened the garage door and flipped the light switch, a voice startled him into nearly turning and running.

"I knew it!"

Sammy.

Their oldest son had been acting very suspicious of Santa related discussions for months now, and Steve had warned him that he was getting to an age where a lot of his friends probably didn't believe in Santa anymore.

"Sammy, why aren't you in your bed?" Eddie put his hands on his hips, identical to the way Steve stood when he was about to have a very serious conversation with one of their three kids.

"Because I saw Auntie Rob bring in a big bag earlier and you and Dad were trying to keep us distracted. So I looked out here while you were cleaning up dinner and saw all these presents." Sammy was standing with his hands on his hips, a mirror image to Steve in every way down to the same swoop of hair and freckles across his cheeks. "And all of these say from Santa, but Santa wouldn't have even come here yet because he was in London one hour ago and London is at least four hours from here!"

Eddie bit back a laugh at how Sammy tried to explain his way through the Santa gifts being here.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Eddie asked, dropping his arms and sitting down on the ground, gesturing for Sammy to join him.

"I already know Santa isn't real," Sammy said as he sat, sounding absolutely miserable.

"What do you mean Santa isn't real?" Eddie asked, pretending to be shocked at the revelation.

"Really, pops? You're gonna act like Santa is real?" Sammy got the sass from Steve, too. It was both annoying and adorable. "I'm seeing the evidence that he isn't with my own eyes."

"Look, Sammy, can I call you Sammy?" Eddie smiled when Sammy let out a laugh. "Santa as you know him isn't real, you're right. But there is a Santa. He's just so busy and can't do it all in one night, so he has presents delivered early for some people, like you and your brother and sister. But he can't ruin the magic, so he left them at Auntie Rob's house for safekeeping."

It sounded airtight. Any kid who wanted to believe in Santa would definitely believe that.

"Dad. Seriously." Sammy was giving him The Look. "I'm nine years old. I have straight As. I'm not stupid."

Which was something Eddie knew of course. He was endlessly proud of all of his super smart kids who did a million times better in school than he and Steve ever did.

But he didn't think believing in Santa was a sign of a kid not being smart.

"You're smart enough to learn the truth, which is that Santa gives the parents a lot more control than we let you think. Don't you think it would be harder to get Maddy to do her homework if I said 'Dad will take a present away' instead of 'Santa is watching to make sure you do your homework'?"

Sammy looked out at the garage, the clutter of children's outdoors toys and broken Christmas decorations and bulk snacks for lunchboxes scattered around.

"So he just gives you the toys when he thinks we've been good enough for them?" Sammy asked, still sounding unsure.

"Exactly! And he usually delivers them a couple weeks early so we can make sure they're wrapped and ready for tomorrow."

"So why keep it all a secret?"

Damn Sammy for always being two steps ahead of Eddie.

"It's more fun this way! Olivia was so excited to leave out cookies before bed, remember? If we told her this, she wouldn't even get to be excited about Rudolph eating the carrots, right?"

"So Rudolph is...real?"

"Okay, that one might be a lie," Eddie gave in on that to sell the rest of it. That's what you had to do with Sammy.

"So who eats the carrots?"

"I take bites and spit them in the trash. You know I hate carrots."

"Why don't you make Dad do it?" Sammy leaned against Eddie's side, letting out a long yawn. He was probably sitting out here for the last couple of hours waiting. He had to be exhausted.

"Dad did a lot of that stuff when you were really little. For five whole years before we switched."

"So he sleeps while you bring out all the presents?"

Eddie's face went red as he thought about what Steve was probably doing in their room right now.

"Yep! He did a lot of baking and stuff all day today so I let him rest," Eddie wrapped an arm around Sammy as his weight became heavier against him. "I think you should probably get some rest, too. Santa wouldn't want your Christmas morning ruined because you stayed up all night."

"I guess." Sammy yawned again. "Can I sleep on the couch?"

"You know Dad's rule. Bedrooms only on Christmas."

"Yeah, but that was for the secret. Now I know."

"But Maddy and Olivia don't. We have to keep this a secret from them, okay?" Eddie paused when he heard some footsteps directly above them. His brows furrowed.

"Maybe Santa forgot one?" Sammy asked, perking up.

"Maybe. Better get to your bed so he doesn't see that you're awake," Eddie nudged him.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Sammy was rushing out of the garage and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Eddie looked above him, but no more bumps could be heard.

After setting all the presents under the tree in a mostly organized fashion, Eddie got back to the bedroom, where Steve was fast asleep.

He got into bed carefully, not wanting to wake him up, but Steve's eyes blinked open slowly as he curled up under the comforter.

"Took you too long," Steve whispered.

"Sammy."

"What?" Steve's eyes opened all the way and tears were instantly filling them. "Does he know?"

"Sh," Eddie pulled Steve against his chest and ran his hands through his soft hair. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Sleep, love."

"Eds-"

They heard a small bump on the roof and then silence.

Steve sat up and looked out the bedroom window, then back at Eddie.

"What was that?"

"Must've been Santa," Eddie teased.

Steve rolled his eyes.

They both stayed up for a bit longer to make sure no other noises happened outside, but fell asleep when there was nothing.

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

The next morning, all three kids jumped into their bed, yelling about how many presents Santa brought them and how full their stockings were.

Steve and Eddie made their way downstairs, rubbing their eyes as the kids pushed them down on the couch while they started grabbing gifts.

By the end, the kids were so busy playing with new toys, they didn't notice one more present hiding between the fireplace and the tree. Eddie reached over for it, not recognizing the wrapping paper.

"Did Robbie say she was getting them something else?" he asked, holding the gift out to Steve.

"Nope," Steve took it, checked the tag, then handed it back to Eddie with a shrug. "Says it's for you."

Wayne wouldn't be bringing his gifts for everyone over until that afternoon, so who could this one even be from?

He opened it carefully, worried that it was a prank by Steve and the kids. It wouldn't be the first time they managed to pull off a prank gift.

The confusion only increased when he pulled out a small plastic replica of the London Bridge.

"You don't even like London that much. Who got you that?" Steve asked, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"No idea."

Sammy looked up at them over the new book about planets he got and beamed.

"Santa brought you a present!"

Eddie was suddenly reminded of their conversation last night, how Sammy insisted Santa was just in London and couldn't possibly have made it here.

Eddie had seen a lot of weird things in his life, had ignored a lot of them and passed them up to weird coincidence, but this was different.

He set the replica on the table by the couch and wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, kissing the top of his head as he leaned further into him.

"Santa?" Steve asked.

"Must've been a good boy this year," Eddie smiled.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you were," Steve kissed his cheek before turning back to watch their kids playing on the floor.

Maybe Eddie would have to write a letter to Santa next year to thank him for the gift.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie dads #drabble #christmas #fluff

[ganseybois]

tommy (at this point already casually dating buck) hanging out with eddie and calling him out on his feelings

alternatively eddie last minute helping maddie before the wedding and maddie calling him out on his feelings

or both

both? both. both is good :D i hope you enjoy it, it got a little long haha! if you want to send me a buddie prompt, click here!

Tommy is the first one to bring it up.

They're finishing up on the basketball court, and everyone has filed out by this point, leaving the two of them alone. Tommy is driving Eddie back anyhow, and today was an intense game, so they're taking their time.

Why Tommy chooses to bring it up before the car ride, Eddie doesn't know. But what a way to make it awkward.

"Hey, man I need to tell you something," he says as they return to the car. "So you're not blindsighted when it happens."

"Everything okay?" Eddie asks, clearly concerned.

"Well, not really." he lets out a tired laugh. "Uh...I'm going to be breaking up with Evan. I wanted to tell you so that, you know, you could do what you do and be there for him."

Shocked, Eddie steps in front of Tommy, "Wait, what? I thought things were going great with the two of you." he feels his gut twist uncomfortably - the last thing Eddie wants in the whole world is to see Buck hurt again. "Tommy, come on, Buck is great. He's amazing. There's not a thing about him to not like."

Tommy scoffs, "Believe me, Eddie, I know that."

"So then what's wrong?"

"Eddie, seriously?" Tommy rolls his eyes. "I can't keep dating him and ignore...whatever it is you two have going on. I like Buck, a lot, I do but, there is clearly something between the two of you."

Eddie lets out a small laugh of disbelief. "Tommy," he says, grinning, trying to find his footing in this conversation. The rug has been swept out from under him. Him? And Buck? No way. "He's my best friend. That's all."

"You know Eddie," Tommy rolls his eyes, walking past him now. "I know everyone is a bit of an idiot with love, but you're acting obtuse purposely."

Eddie turns around and follows, "Hey," he snaps. "I'm sorry if we're too close for you to handle, but I'm not going to apologize for being his best friend."

"I don't want you to Eddie, really, I don't. But you should both take your head out of your asses so that you can stop hurting other people." 

That stops Eddie from making a retort. 

Tommy picks up his pace as he walks over to unlock his door, as though he can escape Eddie and erase the fact that he is also driving Eddie home. That they are going to have to share a space for twenty minutes before Eddie can leave and be alone, and send Tommy on his way to break his best friend’s heart. 

Does Eddie love Buck? 

Of course. 

Buck is his best friend. Why wouldn’t he love him? How could he not? Buck is beautiful, and kind, takes care of his son, and has been there for Eddie since the day that they met. Buck is honest and hopeful, Buck is tender and funny, he is knowledgeable and earnest. He’s the best friend anyone could ever ask for. Eddie knows all this, and of course he loves him for it. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s in love with him…does it?

***

“Thank you so much for helping me Eddie,” Maddie sighs as they walk into her house, Eddie with boxes stacked in his arms. He doesn’t even know what’s inside them - Maddie needed help, so he agreed. 

“Sure thing,” he kicks the door shut and follows her to the kitchen, gently laying the boxes on the table. “Here’s okay?”

“Perfect,” she rubs his back. “Want some coffee? You’re welcome to stay for a while.”

“Coffee sounds great, thanks,” Eddie nods, watching her move around her kitchen. He feels a little awkward–he likes Maddie just fine, but really, he hasn’t spent too much time with her, so he isn’t sure where to strike conversation. They already spent an hour talking about kids in his truck, he feels like he’s used Christopher enough. 

“So,” she says, tone careful and light, prepping mugs. “Did Buck tell you about Tommy?” 

“Yeah, he did.” Eddie murmurs, Tommy and Buck broke up three days ago. Eddie listened to Buck tell the story, and hugged him tight. He gave him beer, ordered him food, and let Buck stay over for the night so he wouldn’t have to be alone. 

At least you’re always going to be here, Eddie, right?

Nowhere else I’d rather be, Buck. 

Eddie broke up with Marisol a day later. He has tried not to think too hard about why that is but…he has spent the last three days thinking about what Tommy has said. 

Eddie clears his throat. “It sucks, I thought this would work out for Buck for sure.”

Maddie sighs sadly, starting to prepare the coffee for them, before she turns around and gazes at him fondly. “I already knew it wouldn’t.” When Eddie just continues to look at her, she rolls her eyes and smiles. “Eddie, come on.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Seriously? You’re going to make me spell it out for you?”

He feels his heart skip a beat, understanding dawning on him. “Maddie,” he shakes his head with a small laugh, although what he wants is to run in the other fucking direction. “Listen-”

“All I do is listen, Eddie. I listen to my brother talk about you like you hung the sun in the sky. I listen to him complain when he can’t see you and Chris. I listen to him talk about everything you do for him, everything you say to him.”

“He’s my best friend,” Eddie says, feeling cornered. 

“I know that I really do. And maybe I’m wrong, maybe I don’t know you as well as I think I do but…I know my brother. It could have never worked with Tommy, because he was too busy being in love with you.”

“Maddie-”

“Hey, maybe I’m wrong,” she says, pouring their coffee. Why do these things never happen when he’s about to leave? “But look into his eyes Eddie, and you’ll see it. Promise me.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do. 

A little part of him admits that he’s afraid to look. Afraid of what he’ll find. 

“Maddie,” he says softly. “He’s my best friend.”

“Eddie.” she sighs. “You look at Buck the way I look at Chimney. The way Karen looks at Hen. The way Bobby looks at Athena. This is so far beyond what you think it is. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

“I promise.”

***

Eddie thinks about it all the way to Buck’s house. 

He thinks about his life, about what makes sense, about his son, and what makes sense in his son’s life. He thinks about the obvious - is he happier when Buck is around? Yes. Did he like Marisol? Not really. Was that because of Buck? He doesn’t know. 

Does he miss Buck when he’s not there? Yes. 

Does he think Buck makes him a better person? Yes. 

Does he love Buck? Yes. 

Yes. 

Yes. 

He makes it to Buck’s apartment and knocks on the door. It opens a moment later. 

Look into his eyes, Eddie. 

Eddie looks. 

Buck smiles, bright as a thousand suns. Just because Eddie thought to come over, to just spend time with him. 

Buck’s eyes sparkle – there is love there, warmth, undying devotion.  

Eddie, finally, can see.  

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks. 

Buck steps aside, and Eddie takes the first step into the rest of his life.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 #911 prompt #buddie prompt #ask #prompt #buck x eddie

[morganbritton132]

in the EMTTS, does Diane ever find out about the death threat letters to Steve? if her daughter watches Eddie’s tiktok she would’ve seen the videos about it so did she tell her mom? how would Diane react? would her reaction annoy Steve or would he actually find it sweet?

Oh man, her daughter would show her Eddie’s TikTok and Diane’s response would be the same one she has for a death in the family and divorces: desserts and being a pleasant presence in their lives.

Steve doesn’t immediately put two and two together because he kinda assumes that Eddie told their friends about it and that’s why people knew, not that he posted about it on the internet. He honestly just thinks that Diane is being her usual annoying self and thus, following the rules of upper-middle class etiquette, keeps having to bake for her.

She stops by one evening and brings them a plate of macaroons and spends an hour standing on their front porch talking about the neighborhood watch. They gained three new members. Steve interprets this as dig about his sleepwalking and then spends the rest of the evening hate-baking her a pie.

Steve is sitting outside waiting for his carpool one morning and she accosts him to have him try this new doughnut recipe she’s trying out. They’re begrudgingly delicious, but her interrupting the only peace and quiet he’ll get all day to talk about the neighborhood watch again is unforgivable. Steve makes her brownies.

Steve is laying with his back flat against the deck in the backyard, listening to Eddie chase Ozzy around the yard. His eyes are shut but he can feel the sun shining on him, and it’s the first time in a long time that he doesn’t feel like complete shit. So, of course.

“Yoohoo, boys,” Steve hears called over the fence and when he cracks his eyes open, he can see her waving at them. She has a tin of cookies with her and is already handing a homemade dog treat to Eddie, and Steve just sighs so deep within himself that he can feel it in his toes.

When he peels himself off the deck and drags himself over to have a pointless conversation by the fence, he can hear her talking about the neighborhood watch. Again. She is saying something about Suzanne down the street seeing a car circle the block a few time this week with their lights off, and Steve’s just had enough.

He doesn’t have it in him to bake another fucking pie.

He cuts off her rambling about being bad at guessing the make and model of cars with some barely concealed frustration, “That’s Ryan and Jackie’s kid. The one that just got a permit. He and his friends take their car out and joyride it around the neighborhood because Ryan refuses to teach him to drive.”

“We live in a cul-de-sac,” Steve adds because he thinks that she’s being a little ridiculous. He says it like he was no longer a person that had trouble leaving the house, that could open the mail without their hands shaking, that wasn’t in their backyard instead of on a run because they’re afraid – Wait.

Steve’s eyes flicker over to Eddie and then to Diane, and everything slots into place like the most obvious puzzle. Of course, she knows. Everybody probably knows. That’s why the neighborhood watch is suddenly so popular, and yeah.

Later when Steve can think about it all more rationally, it is sweet that their neighborhood is looking out for them and that they’re concerned. But in the moment, Steve feels like he’s been hit with a tidal wave of pity, and he gets frustrated. He gets angry.

He barely registers that he drops the cookie tin on the ground or hears Eddie’s blasé response about Steve’s clumsiness. He knows that he’s about to get mean and he doesn’t want to, so he just turns around and goes inside.

Eddie follows him a few minutes later, asking questions and says that it’s not a big deal that people know. He says that it’s actually better because it means there are more people looking out for him. Steve tells him that he’s not talking about it and goes to bed early.

He wakes up early too. He puts on his shoes and he goes across the street, and he tells Diane when she opens her door, “This needs to stop.”

“Oh good, you’re awake. When I saw you on the porch, I thought you might be…” She trails off, making a twirling gesture at her temple and then frowns. “Oh, that’s not correct, is it? April is always trying to teach me these new rules. I mean nothing by it, dear.”

“I’m not – I’m not broken,” Steve says. “I’m not sick, or weak, or – and I don’t need you to bake things for my husband or form a neighborhood watch for me. I need-“

“Dear, that’s simply not true,” She says, voice dropping into something serious. This might be the first time that Steve has ever seen her not smiling. “I heard about those awful letters you got sent to your door and you may not like it, but at times like these. You need people. You may not like that it’s me, sweetie, but that’s what you got.”

Steve hates how he feels like he’s ten years old and making up excuses for why his parents didn’t pick him up, “I can look after myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but do a girl a favor and let us look after you too,” She says. She must see that he’s not thrilled with that statement because she tells him about a sorority sister she had and the anonymous notes she used to find, and how they buried her two years after graduating.

So, she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze, “Let me do this. For me.”

Steve doesn’t pull his hand away and admits maybe for the first time, “I’m so scared all the time.”

#Have I posted something sad this week? if not here we go #I think it’d be so disheartening to make it through the upside down and to learn to live with the trauma of it so you can have a happy life #and then he thrust right back into that mindset of stress and anxiety because someone on the internet decided they didn’t like you #to me Steve in this situation is angry all the time about being made to feel afraid like this #also I wanted to build up a bit of a backstory for Diane because I love a ~layered- character #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson