#Eddie will warm up to them...eventually

[shy-nightmare]

The Toonz Twins: Toontown Sleuths

Chapter Three: Eddie Valiant

Summary: Now that they’ve been hired, the twins meet their new partner, retired Toon private investigator Eddie Valiant who is also hired to investigate the rumors at Maroon Cartoons Studio CEO R.K. Maroon’s request. The three do not hit it well with first impressions.

Credit for inspiration goes to @imaginarytoon1, author of “The Birchwood Twins: Toontown Investigators” and @its-metal-mistress, author of “Bendy and the Ink Machine: Learning How to Live”. Please check out their own wonderful content ^^!

Special Guests Tags 😊: @marinerainbow, @slashingdisneypasta, @los-angeles-toon-patrol, and @weaselnerd (BTW, I have a favor to ask. If you guys received this, can you please comment you saw my chapter? I’ve been having WiFi issues lately ☹)

Warning: Eddie being biased towards the twins 😑

The twins followed the lady down the hallway to R.K. Maroon’s office. As they walked, they marveled at the sight of various Toons and Toon celebrities walking around the streets at the studio. The walls were embellished with posters of Roger and Herman’s cartoons from Babes in Arms to Tummy Trouble and The Wet Nurse.

“They must be the stars of the studio,” Tom said to his sister, who gave a little shrug as if to say, “Guess so”.

The lady knocked on the doors polished in oak wood. “Mr. Maroon? Our guests are here.”

“Ah! Terrific!” a man’s voice responded. He clapped his hands, “Send them in, please.”

She opened the door for the twins, and they thanked her before stepping into Maroon’s office. It was a classy, organized room with walls painted in ivory decorated with golden statues of Toon celebrities and posters of Roger and Herman’s cartoons near a single green sofa chair on the right. The floor was polished in dark green and red, and only had two little stairs to the office desk. The desk itself was shaped in a curved style, decorated with more cartoon memorabilia and the chair was tufted in vintage green leather. Two velvet green curtains spread open, giving a splendid view of the Acme Factory. And sitting on the office chair and another in front of the desk were two men.

R.K. Maroon was a tall, but stout man. His skin was olive, and his hair was black peppered with streaks of gray. He wore a dark silver-grey jacket accented by a crimson handkerchief over a white dress shirt, a tie threaded in streaks of black, white, and red, and matching silver-grey trousers with polished black dress shoes.

And the other man, judging by his washed-up detective getup, had to be Eddie Valiant. He was slightly shorter, but a little stockier. He wore an old, coffee-colored jacket with a surprisingly clean white dress shirt, holding a black tie dotted in diamond shapes marked with single red x’s and dark suspenders with scuffed shoes. But unlike Maroon, he kept his short dark brown hair hidden in a classic brown fedora. He raised a brow at the twins’ appearances, giving them both a once-over look before his brown eyes darkened. Tom returned his glance with a concealed warning glare, which did manage to tell the man to keep his trap shut. At least, for now.

“Hello and welcome to Maroon Cartoons!” Maroon walked over to meet the twins, extending his hand out. “You must be Mr. Valiant’s assistants. I’m R.K. Maroon, the proud owner and CEO of the studio.”

Tom accepted his handshake, “Tom Toonz. And this is my sister, Twyla.” He motioned to his sister, who shyly held her hand out for a handshake.

“It’s very nice to meet you, too.” Maroon shook her hand before he turned to the brooding man. “OK, Eddie, you’re free to go.”

“Great,” Valiant grumbled, taking another gulp of his flask and stuffing it in his pocket before storming out of the office.

The twins sighed and shared a deadpan look. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled, and they followed him, not noticing Maroon’s smile turn a little…less sincere.

_____________

They followed their “partner” all the way across town, where he decided to hitch a ride on another trolley without them. Asshole. The Red Car stopped near an archway building called The Terminal Station Bar. Just as Eddie was about to take the first step, a young gruff voice spoke from behind him.

“Leavin’ us out in the open?”

“Jesus!” Eddie whirled around, but he glowered when he saw the twins with their arms crossed. “Didn’t anyone ever tell ya it ain’t smart to sneak up behind people?”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell ya it ain’t polite to ditch your coworkers?” Tom answered his question with another question, raising a brow.

“No shit, sherlock,” Eddie grumbled. “Look, I got no time to deal with you Toons—”

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder before Eddie was forced to make eye contact with the young gunslinger. Tom’s tone was even but had a firm undertone do it. “I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you. Where we come from, we don’t take kindly to racists and that does not exclude you, Mr. Valiant.”

Eddie’s glare faltered a little, his brown eyes slightly widening from the stoic, but intense glare in Tom’s darker eyes and his slightly tightened grip. After a long tense moment, he sighed and let go of the human’s shoulder. “Look, buddy. We get that we’re Toons, but like it or not, Maroon and the fuckin’ man-brat requested all three of us for this job. So I’ll offer you a deal, let us help out and I’ll split our cut 50-50 considering the time of the century we’re living in. And after that, we’ll be gone by sundown. Deal?”

The disgruntled man glared down at the floor, as if he were blaming it for all his troubles right now, then he sighed. “All right. Deal.” He shook Tom’s hand, then pulled back. “So Herman brought you two in for the same favor, huh?”

“Yeah. Apparently, there’s a rumor going around saying Jessica’s cheating on her husband. Then he sent us your way, but the problem is we don’t have a camera. And with what we got right now ain’t enough to give Herman the proof.” Tom glanced at Twyla, who nodded.

“I see.” Eddie sighed, “Wait here. I don’t want the guys to see me in the bar with you runts.”

He turned around and headed into the entrance. Tom flipped him off behind his back. He nearly bumped into a drunk who reeked of bad B.O. and booze that almost reminded him of the Hellhole and walked over to his sister who leaned against the wall while looking at her cell phone.

“Have you reached Adam and Echo yet?” he asked.

Twyla shook her head, “No. Apparently, there’s no signal in this time period.”

“It’s the 40’s, sis.” Her brother reminded her, taking his hat off to rub his temple. “We’ll try again later. Last thing we need is to make Echo sick with worry and Adam beat the shit out of us with his fuckin’ laptop.”

“Agreed.”

Suddenly, Eddie stormed out of the bar, clenching his fist. Tom saw some pieces of eggshells falling out of his palm and could tell some shit went down. “We’re going straight ahead. My office is in that building.” He spoke gruffly with teeth gritted in fury, jerking his head at a large suburban-styled apartment building across the bar at Hope Street. The trio entered the building and walked up a set of stairs leading to a long hallway with doors. After a few blocks down, Eddie led the twins to an office door labeled “VALIANT & VALIANT, PRIVATE INVESTIGATORS”, and in the center was a badge-designed symbol written “Veritas”. Eddie opened the door to his office.

His office…was a one-room apartment. The walls were tawny brown, hanging up portraits and photographed frames. It had a small kitchen with enough room to fit little a card-playing table and chairs, refrigerator, oven, sink, and thank God there was a bathroom. On the left side of the office stood a couple of dark oak shelves scattered with documents and more bottles of Jack Daniels while a dark brown leather chair stood a few feet away from them. And standing in front of the blinded window stood two office desks connected to each other with a single vintage chair. One was polished, though littered with picture frames, papers, booze, and debris. And the other was organized and well-put but covered in thick dust. There was only an unfinished scrapbook, a magnifying glass, an adorable Betty Boop figurine, rounded spectacles, and a pipe next to two organized pens. Everything was dusty, but untouched.

Eddie sat on the chair where the scattered desk was, obviously his office desk. He motioned for the twins to sit on the chairs around the table and they each grabbed a chair.

“Now if you’re going to work with me, I have to lay down some ground rules for you.” He began, making eye contact with them. “First, never—and I mean never—sit on this desk.” He pointed at the dust-blanketed office desk without taking his eyes off his “partners”. “Second, don’t slack off or goof around like you Toons do.” He added, and Tom held back a murderous growl while Twyla’s fur lightly bristled with equal rage though she was in more control of her composure. “And third of all, don’t do anything even remotely stupid that will embarrass me or get us killed while we’re on the job. Got it?”

Tom and Twyla both silently nodded. “Yes, sir.” The older twin spoke.

“Good. But before I tell you my plan for the evening, I want to know you two more. Who are ya and where are ya from?”

Tom, who was always one step ahead, did all the talking. “The name’s Toonz. Tom Toonz. And this is my twin sister, Twyla,” he motioned to his sister who greeted the man with a curt tilt of her head. Then, he dug down into his pocket to pull out a file containing two copies of their credentials that Twyla so kindly upgraded a while ago. Tom handed the papers over to Eddie. “We were hired by Baby Herman as covert investigators from Chatham, Chicago.”

“Chatham?” Eddie raised a brow, as if he were perturbed by the fact. He looked at the papers’ contents again for confirmation. “Uh, that’s a rough part of town, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, well, Chicago is rough.” Tom responded with a shrug. “But it’s one of the biggest joints out in the city to pull a sleuth job.” When Eddie furrowed his brows in confusion, the male halfie elaborated. “Before we came here, we’ve done some favors, too. Folks would show up on our door, asking us to find some dirt on people on their lists. Cheaters, scammers, liars, folks pilfering and selling recreational goods for their clandestine businesses, you name it.” he finished, trailing off, “Chicago ain’t as big as New York, but the streets are just as tough and crawling with creeps and sleazeballs of all kinds, and thugs itchin’ to take a crack at you.”

Eddie observed the scar on Tom’s right eye, then looked down. He nodded, “Yeah? Is that why you’re packin’ heavy heat?”

Tom followed where he was looking and saw the hostler of his gun coiled around his right hip. He softly cursed and tried to hide it better when Eddie cut him off. “Ah, don’t sweat it, kid. I get it. You’re trained to prepare, and that’s good. You need to use your eyes and ears, or else the pigs will be blowing your house down.”

“Ha-ha, hilarious. You’re a real fuckin’ Charlie Chaplin,” Tom snorted, but Eddie didn’t get irritated from hearing the swear.

Eddie turned to Twyla, “What about you?”

Twyla’s ears drooped, but Tom was kind enough to answer for her. “Um, sir.” He spoke to Eddie, softening his tone while keeping the eye contact firm but steady. “She doesn’t feel comfortable talking just yet.”

The detective rose a brow, but he didn’t get upset. “Just yet?”

“She struggles to speak when she’s out in public and she’s very shy, but once she gets to know you better, she’s only a lady of a few words.” Tom replied.

Thankfully, Eddie dropped it. “OK, I got ya. So you can say she’s more of the silent type?”

“Yeah.” Tom nodded, “But she’s learning some of the same skills as I am. While she struggles in conversation, she makes up for it with tracking skills and finding clues. Plus, she as a keen attention to detail and is an excellent master of stealth.” He grinned proudly at his twin’s adorable attempt to hide her embarrassed, blushing face while trying to shove her brother off his chair. However, she managed to punch him roughly in the shoulder. “Ow!” he rubbed his right arm gingerly, “And did I forget to mention she hits like a guy?”

Unbeknownst to them, Eddie pulled up their papers to hide an amused chuckle. He cleared his throat and lowered the papers, folding his hands together. “All right, back to business.”

“Right.” Tom fixed his jacket before facing the human. “So, what did Maroon tell you?”

“He told me that the rabbit’s got his tail all up in in knots because of his wife, Jessica.” He tossed Tom a folded newspaper, and the twins huddled together to take a closer look. Written in bold black, the headliner read, “Seen Cooing over Calamari with Not-So-New Sugar Daddy was Jessica Rabbit, wife of Maroon Cartoons Star Roger Rabbit”. Eddie continued while the twins read, “Like you said, there’s always a cheater crawling around. Maroon says Jessica’s poison, but Roger thinks she’s Betty Crocker. Maroon wants us to go to the joint she sings at, a little evening hotspot called The Ink & Paint Club and dig up some dirt on her.”

He glanced up at the twins warily. “There’s just one problem, though.”

They looked at him, tilting their heads confusedly. “What’s up?” Tom asked.

“Toons do work there, but the club is Toon-Revue. Strictly humans only,” he responded, hiding his concealed apprehension when the twins’ faces darkened. “I got some trench coats and hats you can borrow, so we’ll pull the old cloak-and-dagger trick and—”

Tom cut him off. “Oh, trust me. There’s no need for that,” he waved dismissively. And then, he pulled into a mischievous grin. “You just leave that to us.” He chuckled.

The twins shared a toothy smile that made Eddie’s blood run cold. Oh fuck, what have I gotten myself into? He thought.               

[solarmorrigan]

Steve knows how to take care of himself. He's good at it. He's been doing it for years

Illnesses, sports injuries (other injuries) - he knows how to manage them so they'll go away as quickly as possible. He knows when he needs to rest, he knows when he needs to take medication, he knows how to care for pulled muscles and broken skin. Maybe he doesn't always have the opportunity to care for these things properly, but he knows how, because with no one else around, he'd had to learn

Eventually, he gets it down to a routine. A science, almost. An airtight series of steps for whatever is wrong with him so he can knock out whatever crud is keeping him down and move on with his life

There isn't really room for anyone else in it

"You want me to do that?" Eddie asks, watching as Steve stirs a pot of soup on the stove.

"'m good," Steve answers with an absent sniffle.

Eddie hums. "Well, do you need me to go out and get anything? More tissues, cough medicine, more soup...?"

Steve shakes his head, though he stops when it brings on a wave of dizziness. He braces himself against the counter, waving Eddie off when he steps forward to try to support Steve. It's really just a little cold, but the congestion is killing him.

"I've got everything I need," Steve finally says; he always makes sure the medicine cabinet is stocked for this sort of thing, replenishes anything in there as soon as he uses it up, just in case. "Thanks, though."

Eddie is quiet for a long moment. "So you, uh... don't need me for anything, then?"

"Nah, it's fine. Just gonna eat my soup and get some rest," Steve assures him. "You should go enjoy your day."

"Right," Eddie says, sounding weirdly flat. "I'll just. Go do that. I guess."

He disappears into the spare room (ostensibly a guest room, but it's also become a space for all of Eddie's D&D and music stuff, and Steve has jokingly taken to referring to it as Eddie's office), and Steve finishes heating his soup with a little puzzlement. Something is up with Eddie, but Steve is too worn out to figure out what.

He eats his soup and goes back to bed, but it isn't until he's been lying there, exhausted but restless, for almost an hour that it occurs to him what's wrong. He plays back over the conversation in the kitchen and feels a little stupid for not catching on sooner.

He can hear Eddie strumming absently at his acoustic when he goes to knock on the door of the spare room. The sound stops and Eddie opens the door, looking almost surprised to see Steve.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Hey. I, uh - I'm trying to rest, but I just... can't, for some reason." Steve shrugs. "I think maybe I need some company?"

"Yeah?" Eddie asks again, his voice warming a little.

"Yeah. I mean, if you're not busy, or--"

"Free as a bird, baby," Eddie says quickly, reaching out to take Steve by the hand. "Let's get you back to bed."

Eddie takes to his task with gusto, making sure Steve has all the pillows and blankets that he needs, dimming the lights, even offering to read a book. And it's - it's nice, Steve realizes.

It's nice, having Eddie there, giving Steve the one thing he's never really had before.

It's nice to have support.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi there! I love your work, I was wondering if I could request a virgin Eddie who’s a lil bit of a perv who is in love with his best friend (the reader) and when she tells him she likes him and they eventually have sex Eddie’s all nervous. Maybe starting off a lil angsty and then fluff?? Thank you!!

I LOVE perv eddie.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting ❤️

⚠️Smut!

His first time

Eddie was a basic man who had basic needs. He enjoyed adult magazines, he wouldn't deny it. He saved up to buy the newest issues, pleasuring himself to all the different women and their breasts.

He enjoyed checking the girls out, loved watching the cheerleaders perform and sex scenes in movies. But he got bored of the same things.

He blasted music through his speakers as he tried to focus on making himself cum. But he was getting frustrated as nothing seemed to get him there. He tossed the magazine on the floor, closing his eyes as he tried to picture the cheerleaders from before.

His hand moved fast on his cock as he clenched his eyes. His body was covered in sweat and his body was cramping from how hard he was trying to cum. He tried to imagine the scene like he was there again.

He sat next to his best friend, Y/N, as the cheerleaders warmed up. Their long legs stretched out as they bent over. Eddie noticeably checked them out, along with every boy in the crowd.

The bleachers were uncomfortable as Y/N tried to shift. The popcorn in her hand spilled as she did, landed right at Eddie's feet.

"Oh fuck!" She groaned. It caught Eddie's attention, before he could ask, she was reaching down to grab the pieces. Her body was right between his legs. He felt his breath get caught in his throat as her hand rested on his knee to balance herself. Her head between his thighs.

Eddie moaned as he felt his body melting into the mattress. Finally relaxing enough for him to feel true pleasure as he jerked himself off.

He looked down, enjoying the way her shirt dipped and he could see the top of her breasts.

Eddie sighed in pleasure as cum shot out of his cock, painting his hand as he worked himself through it. His hair sticking to his sweaty body as he thanked God he was finally cumming.

Then he realized what made him cum.

His best friend.

~~~

Eddie felt a little bit ashamed about masturbating to his best friend, but not ashamed enough to stop doing it. She was behind the greatest orgasms he's ever felt and he couldn't give that up.

It had been months since he first did it, and now he didn't see any worthy of girl compared to her. He was captivated by her. He began falling for her.

Suddenly her smile made his stomach flutter. The way she laughed made him smile. He wanted to feel her skin against his. He was curious to know how her lips felt.

He wasn't the best with feelings so he didn't bother to tell her how he felt. Plus, there was no way she'd be into him. She was out of his league even as friends. He kept his feelings to himself, torturing himself every second he spent with her.

She was ranting about a teacher. Her mouth moved but Eddie heard silence. Her hands were waving around as she cussed but he was focused on the deep cut of her T-shirt.

He tried to keep his eyes on her face, but he couldn't help but look down at the small part of her bra that was showing. He tried not to whine when she crossed her arms, squishing her delicious breasts against each other.

Fuck he craved to stick his head right between them. Or his cock. He felt himself twitch at the thought. Oh, he definitely wanted to push his cock between her tits.

~

"Wanna play a game or chicken?" Steve asked Eddie as they swam around the neighborhood pool.

"Depends, who's on you and who's on me," Eddie said.

"I'll take Dustin," Steve said as Dustin jumped in. "YO, KID! GET ON MY SHOULDERS!"

Eddie looked around for a partner, a smile on his face as he swam to the edge. He propped his arms up on the concrete, whistling to gain her attention.

Y/N opened her eyes under her sunglasses, looking towards the pool from her spot on the chairs. Eddie was looking at her with a suggestive smile.

"Oh God, what?" She sighed. She pushed her glasses up on her head and sat up. Her day of tanning seemed to be cancelled.

"Be my partner and beat Steve's ass?" He asked, he had one eye scrunched as he looked up at her. The sun beamed right on him.

She knew she could never say no to Eddie. And truthfully, sitting on Eddie's broad shoulders sounded like a wet dream. She stood up and discarded her sunglasses. She quickly took off her shorts and Eddie clapped as she walked towards him.

He whistled as she began to walk into the water. She flicked him off as her body felt the cold water.

"Damn, always looking good in a swimsuit," he winked. She rolled her eyes, hoping the sun was the reason her skin heated up.

Eddie plunged under the water, letting her sit on his shoulders as he stood up. She loved the feeling of his arms holding down her legs. The way they were wrapped around her.

He loved every second of her legs wrapped around him. The feeling of her cunt on the back of his neck. He wanted more than anything to lay her on the concrete and turn around, dive his face in her cunt as he ate her out in front of everyone. He hoped the splashing of the water hid the growing erection in his swim shorts.

~

It was a Friday night and Eddie was getting ready for a party that Y/N was dragging him to. It wasn't something he wanted to do but he had a hard time looking at her and saying no. Plus, if he didn't go she'd still go and he wasn't in the mood to hear about how she got hit on all night.

She's had boyfriends before and they never had Eddie's approval. Which made much more sense now that he knew he was in love with her.

He shoved a few pre rolls in his pocket and ran out the door.

~

About an hour into the party, he lost her. They were outside where he could smoke freely, she went in to get a drink and hadn't come back out. He was getting slightly worried so he stood up from the grass and began walking towards the house.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned. He thought maybe it was her but another girl stood in front of him.

"Hi sorry, but I was wondering if you had any of what you were smoking left? Or even a cigarette?" The girl asked

Eddie wasn't sure who she was, digging into his pocket as he grabbed his cigarettes. "Can't share the good stuff, but I can offer this." He smiled as he passed one over.

She smiled and took it, "lighter?" She put the cigarette between her lips, Eddie flicked his lighter the flame coming to life as he lit the end of the cigarette. She inhaled the smoke. She sighed from the taste. "Thank you. I needed this."

"Not a problem," he smiled. He prepared to turn around and leave but she spoke up again.

"Are you here alone?" She asked

Eddie was a little confused. It felt like she was hitting on him. "Uh no, my friend is inside getting drinks. Which is where I'm heading because it's been like an hour," he said as he checked his watch.

"Well if you don't find your friend, come find me," she winked as she turned around and walked off. The cigarette smoke following her. Eddie was stunned, he barely got hit on.

"Sorry!" Y/N said as she appeared in front of him. "You can't imagine how busy that kitchen is," she noticed the weird look on his face as she handed his drink over.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just think that girl over there was flirting with me," he said as he nodded his head in her direction. Y/N felt her stomach turn as she followed his head. She didn't like knowing someone was showing interest in him. She felt jealous as she spotted the girl smoking a few feet away.

"Oh! Well...she's cute, I guess," Y/N shrugged as she looked back at him. She didn't like how his eyes were still on the girl. "Did you, um, want to talk to her?" She cursed herself for asking. For giving him the option because she didn't want him to.

"Should I? I'm not sure how to talk to girls," Eddie said nervously. He took a swig from his red cup as the alcohol burned down his throat.

"You talk to me," Y/N said, once again not sure why she was trying to help.

"Yeah but that's different. You aren't into me and looking for like... something," he coughed, feeling uncomfortable at the idea.

Y/N figured this was the chance to say something. She could correct him, tell him she was into him and she wanted something with him. She opened her mouth, weight on her chest.

"Eddie, loo-"

"I'm going to do it. Hold this for me," he said as he handed her the cup. He wiped his hands on his jeans and took a few deep breaths. She frowned as he walked away, heading to the pretty girl.

So much for telling him how she felt, she thought. She carried their drinks towards the small bench in the backyard. She wasn't sure if she should watch or stare off into space. She tried to drink away the lump in her throat. Hoping the alcohol would kill all the shit she felt inside.

She finished off her drink, her eyes flicking to where he was. He was smiling as the girl laughed, shoving his arm. She quickly looked away, the sight alone hurt her more than she would like to admit. She chugged his drink, getting up as she went to fill the cups again. Fuck, she needed many drinks to survive this.

She debated going back outside, but figured inside was safer. The air was thick as there wasn't much room to walk around. She escaped to the front yard, letting herself sit on the grass.

She knew she should have said something sooner. Now he was probably going to come ask to bring the girl home. And Y/N wanted to cry at the thought.

She wasn't sure how long she was out there, but she knew it had to be over an hour. At this point she was sad and alone. She was ready to go home and cry herself to sleep. She stood up and dusted off her clothes. She prep talked herself as she walked to the backyard.

She tried to blink away tears as he was still with the girl, much closer than before. Maybe she was jealous, or maybe she was tired, but she didn't find a problem with walking right up to them.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I want to go home," she said. Her tone was serious and it worried Eddie as he looked at her.

"Are you okay?" He asked

"Yeah, just not feeling well," she wasn't fully lying. She did feel like she could puke right at their feet as their fingers were inches away from each other.

"Yeah, here are the keys. I'll be there in like a minute?"

She nodded as she grabbed the keys. Completely ignoring the girl as she began her walk to the van. She made it down the street when Eddie ran after her, throwing his arm over her shoulder as he panted.

"Sure you're okay? Need to get water or something?"

"Yeah, I'm fine Eddie," she softly smiled. She handed him the keys as they arrived where he parked. They climbed in but Eddie wasn't making any moves to drive off.

"What's going on?" He asked as he looked over at her. She looked straight ahead.

"I said I'm fine, can we please go home?"

Eddie sighed and started up the van, driving off.

The ride was silent. Y/N spent the whole drive forcing her tears to stay in her eyes. And Eddie kept glancing her way.

~

They entered his empty trailer, still silent as she worked her way into his bedroom. He took off his jacket and threw it somewhere on the floor. He walked to his room, freezing as she had her back to him as she unclipped her bra. He gazed at the naked skin, wanting her so badly to turn around. But one of his T-shirts was tossed on. She collected her clothes and put them in a small pile. Turning around, jumping as Eddie stood here.

"Jesus. You move like a mouse," she laughed. But Eddie's face was hard to read as he looked at her. She didn't say anything, just threw herself on his bed. She sighed in relaxation as she cuddled into his pillows.

Eddie removed his shirt, unaware of her watching eyes as he moved into the bathroom.

She tried to calm down her racing heart as he changed. She hoped she could avoid talking but she had a feeling he still didn't believe her.

A few seconds later he walked out, only in boxers. She chewed on her bottom lip as he joined her in bed. The small lamp beside him was the only form of light.

They stared at each other, both softly memorizing each other's faces. "You sure you're okay?" He whispered, his hand moving to softly rub her hip. She melted into his touch.

"Did you like her?" She whispered. Her voice horse as she tried not to cry.

"Not really," he admitted honestly. He continued to rub her hip as he shifted closer. His face right in front of her as he frowned. "Is that what this is about?"

She closed her eyes as she had to face it. She opened her eyes, Eddie was quick to wipe away the tears that began to fall. "Oh baby," he whispered as he pulled her into him.

Her nose was pressed against his.

"You know how you said I wasn't into you so talking to me was different?"

He nodded, thumb rubbing her cheek.

"I do like you," she whispered. She hoped he didn't hear it, but that was impossible as there wasn't any space between them. "I wanted to tell you but you know," she sniffled.

"You do know that if I knew, no way in hell I would have bothered with her," he admitted. She felt herself smile.

"Yeah?"

"You don't know how long I've been thinking about you," he whispered. His heart raced as she smiled. He couldn't believe it after all this time, she liked him.

Her smile slowly fell as she looked at his lips. She didn't say anything as she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. He gladly kissed her back, rolling on his back as she rolled on top of him. He moved his hands on her back as her tongue slipped in his mouth.

He whined at how incredible her lips and tongue felt. The feeling of her hands moving into his hair made him clench. His mind already raced with dirty images of them, his cock growing under her as he couldn't fight them off.

She could feel his cock growing hard underneath her, pride in her chest as her kiss seemed to do enough to drive him insane. It did the same to her, she didn't want to wait for anything. She wanted him to fuck her and kill the tension she always felt with him.

She rolled her hips against him, moaning into his mouth as his cock rubbed against her thin panties.

She pulled away for air, moving her lips to his neck. He shivered as she sucked on his skin. He didn't know what any of this felt like, but damn it felt good coming from her. He didn't care how noticeable her marks would be, he wanted to be covered.

His mind was clouded with pleasure as she kept rocking against his cock. Barely noticing her hands moving to strip off her shirt.

Wait, was this happening? Right now? He thought. His cock twitched seeing her bare tits. He stared in awe as his hands dropped to her hips.

She patiently waited for him to touch her, but he quite literally looked like a deer in headlights.

"Eds?" She asked

He looked into her eyes and she could see the nerves in his eyes.

"Shit! I'm sorry," she said as she climbed off his lap. Her face burned with embarrassment as she covered herself with his blanket. She closed her eyes as she wished to disappear.

"No, it's okay!" He reassured her. He sat up.

"We don't have to do any of that. I got way too caught up" she uncomfortably laughed. She felt like an idiot.

"I want to. Fuck, I want to so bad. I just have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Have you ever done it before?" She asked, no judgement in her eyes.

"No," he said quickly, "but I promise I know I want to. And I'm ready right now," he rushed out. He was so desperate as his cock throbbed under the sheets. He was far too gone to ignore it and move on.

"Are you sure? I'm fine with just going to bed," she offered.

"I want you," he confirmed, leaning in as he pressed his lips against hers. She gladly accepted the kiss, climbing back on his lap.

She pulled away. "I'll go slow, okay?"

He nodded, just wishing she'd sink down on him already.

"Do you have a condom?" She asked. He quickly turned to his nightstand, yanking it open. She eyed the amount of condoms scattered around and a pair of handcuffs. "I hope you weren't planning on using all of those immediately."

Eddie blushed as he handed her the wrapper, and shut the drawer. "I wanted to be prepared."

"And the handcuffs?" She teased as she tore the package open. He watched as she moved down his body, hands seconds away from touching him.

"To experiment," he said in a heavy breath. His eyes locked on her hands as she began to put the condom on him. He shivered as she rolled it on, the single touch was better than anything he felt by himself.

She climbed up his body and put her face up against his. "Don't think you'll ever do this with someone else, got it?"

He moaned at her possessive words, loving the heat behind her eyes. He gladly would submit to her anytime she wanted him.

She smiled at his reaction, moving her body to hover over his cock. His submissive eyes were staring, becoming glossy as he whined for her to do something.

She softly gripped his cock, slowly sinking herself down on him. He let out a loud long moan as he gripped her hips. She was so warm. She gave herself a second to adjust to his size, planting her hands on his chest as she began to roll her hips.

His head smacked his headboard with a thunk as he threw his head back. Her wrapped around him easily became the best thing he ever felt.

He pried his eyes open so he could watch her. She looked angelic on top of him. The way her tits moved, her hair, her scrunched eyes and mouth open with moans. He wanted to feel more of her, sitting up straight as his unrehearsed hands moved to her chest.

He froze before he touched her. His eyes look up to her for answers. She opened her eyes when she felt him moving. She looked down at his puppy eyes. She tried not to speak on how fucking adorable he looked.

She slowed down her hips as she pressed her forehead against his. With her lips being that close, he didn't second think of his movements as he kissed her. She moved her hands to wrap around his neck, deepening this kiss. She waited until he wanted to pull away, sitting still on him.

He pulled back, his hands still on her chest. "May I?"

She nodded, going back to moving on his cock. "Yeah, baby. Touch me."

He growled at her words. His eager hands massaged her breasts, making her arch into him. He moaned at how they felt in his hands, so warm, and full. He hated how close he was, wanting this to never stop.

Y/N changed her pace as she went faster. He felt incredible inside of her. He was a perfect fit and she loved the way he kissed and touched her.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," he moaned. His brain only focused on how amazing the build up was, and how he never felt anything like it. He wrapped his arms around her and flipped them over. He didn't know how but he fucked himself into her, doing something right as she moaned out.

He fucked her, head dropping into her sweaty neck as he felt his final thrusts shake. He panted into her neck, she greedily wrapped her legs around his waist to shove him deeper inside her.

"That's it, Eddie," she praised. He gave his final thrusts as he came inside the condom. His orgasm ran through his whole body, he felt it everywhere.

He pulled out of her, body feeling like jelly. "Holy fuck," he chuckled out of breath. "That was the best thing I've ever felt."

Y/N squirmed as he shifted, his cock still inside of her. He wanted to continue but the more he moved, it began to hurt.

"Pull out, Eddie. It's okay," she smiled. He nodded and pulled out, already missing how she felt around him.

"But you didn't cum," he frowned.

"That's okay! This was about you," she said as she rubbed his cheek. But he wasn't having it. No way he was leaving her with nothing.

He wasn't sure what to do, but he's seen enough movies to have a slight idea. His hand skimmed down her body, sliding two fingers inside of her.

She gasped as his long fingers moved inside of her. She moved her hand down to her clit but Eddie slapped it away. He was determined to do it all on his own.

He added a third finger as he used his other hand to circle her clit. She softly put her hand over his to show him how. He enjoyed the way her breathing increased and she began to moan more. He kept a steady pace with his fingers on her clit, and fucking her as fast as his fingers would allow.

"Fuck that's it, don't change anything," she said, throwing her head back as she moved herself on his fingers to feel him deeper.

"Yes ma'am,"

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head from the name, feeling loved by the way his eyes watched her. And how badly he wanted to make her cum.

She focused on her orgasm as it began building. Her hands stretched out to grip his shoulders as she began to shake.

"Gonna cum," she warned, immediately soaking his fingers as she came.

Eddie continued, loving the sounds of her wet cunt, until she pushed his hands away.

He cleaned them both up before he crawled to lay next to her.

"I love you," he whispered as he cupped her cheek. He left a small kiss to her lips.

"I love you, too"

[eddiazx]

buck wild - evan buckley x reader

Buck has always been beautiful. Over the past year though, he had an even bigger glow up, which you didn’t even think could be possible.

His golden hair had furled into soft little coils, his stomach was fuller, his arms were so muscular that you were slightly concerned he was going to rip through his all of his T-shirts, and his thighs. Lord, his thick thighs were built like tanks. All in all, Buck looked comfortable in his own skin, in being himself, and in being enough, and you were obsessed with it.

Of course, you might be biased, but you think the general public can agree with you that your boyfriend is a smoke show.

The 118 and their families were currently gathered at Athena and Bobby’s house. It was one of those rare weekend nights where everyone was free, so the couple had invited everyone over for a barbecue.

Dusk was falling, and the kids were planted in front of the downstairs television watching a horror movie. The adults were sitting in the backyard, chatting over drinks. You were sitting sideways in Buck’s lap, one of his hands bringing a beer bottle to his lips every few minutes, while the other rested on your leg. Both of you were immersed in the story that Karen was recounting about an incident that happened in her lab.

When you decide that you needed a sip of water, you shift yourself up from Buck's lap and the comfortable position you were in. You put your feet on the ground, lean forward and oh-

Your legs were on either side of Buck’s thick left thigh, and whether it was due to the booze or the angle or the solid muscle underneath hitting you just right, arousal zips through you.

You gulp and get up on shaky legs with Buck’s help. You make a beeline to the kitchen and grab a water bottle, pressing the cool plastic to the side of your neck in attempt to calm down.

“Hey, you okay?”, you hear Buck behind you. You turn around to see your sweet boyfriend who had trailed after you in concern.

“Yeah... but do you mind if we go home?”

“Of course. Are you feeling sick?”

“No, but I am feeling hot.” You say, trailing a nail down Buck’s chest to his tummy, biting your lower lip.

Buck, quickly understanding, smirks, and takes your hand in his, guiding you back towards the group to bid your hasty goodbyes before walking out the front door. You don't quite catch the knowing looks and smirks that Eddie and Hen give Buck.

Buck's warm hand never leaves yours, except to help you into his Jeep. He buckles himself in, and starts to drive, but not before asking,

“So, what was it that turned you on?”

Your cheeks warm. You look pointedly at his thighs, and he chuckles. He eventually pulls the Jeep into park in front of your shared apartment.

You move to open the passenger door, but Buck pulls you back. He brings you in for a kiss and shuffles you over the centre console to make you straddle him, adjusting his seat back to make room for you.

“Buck”, you pant breathlessly into his mouth, before sliding your tongue over his. His big hands caress your back and down your butt, before you feel him guide your legs so that one of his thighs was between them.

“Okay, baby. Ride me. Take what you need.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You hold onto Buck’s shoulders, grinding your hips back and forth over the corded muscle. Buck looks up at you like this is the hottest thing he’s ever seen, his own dick straining against his jeans. He bounces his leg up into you experimentally, and when you react positively, he continues to do so in an unrelenting pace. Buck can tell by your whines and breathing that you were close, so he finally grasps your hips and pulls you down hard onto his thigh. Within seconds, you’re shaking with white-hot pleasure.

Buck coos and rubs your sides, grounding you after your high. It's unspoken between you two, but this was most definitely not the last time you'd be doing this.

[hairmetal666]

No one knows who writes the Hawkins High Tattler. It comes out every week, without fail, has for almost two decades. Everyone reads it, even teachers, even parents. It's caused more the one suspension, grounding, and even--famously--a shipping off to boarding school.

Steve's never let the Tattler get to him much. He's in it, of course, practically a new story every week. But it's just silly gossip.

Of course, Steve is also, currently, the titular Tattler, so. It's not like he's surprised when his name shows up.

It's his third year, his last year, and he knows everything that ever goes on at Hawkins High. It's pretty easy, honestly. Everyone thinks he's ditzy and vapid; nothing more than hairspray and polos. People will say anything around him, assuming he's not listening or not interested, and then bam. It's in next week's Tattler. No one even suspects him.

The confessions locker probably helps. Down by the theater, busted and unusable, the perfect place for people to leave tips, to tattle on their friends (or enemies, as the case may be).

That's what he's doing right now, checking the confessions locker. After 9:30 on a Friday night, the place silent as the tomb, perfect time for it. Pretty standard fare this week. The only thing of interest is that Eddie Munson was the person who broke all Ms. Click's pencils and left the stubs on her desk. This one, he laughs at, can't wait to publish it; can't wait to talk to Munson about it.

He gets a lot of stuff about Eddie. Most of it he doesn't publish because it's bullshit about satanic rituals--the nerdy kids he babysits play dnd, and there's no way Karen Wheeler is letting anything satanic happen in her basement--or about his sexuality, and one thing Steve doesn't do is out people.

Gathering up this week's submissions, he closes the locker with a soft clink, and he swears, swears he hears the squeak of a tennis shoe on the polished tile of the floor. He freezes, heart in his throat. Nobody has been here this late before.

Seconds pass but there's only silence. Confident he's only hearing things, he heads out, the parking lot just as empty as when he arrived.

---

He sees Eddie a few days later, when he's picking up the kids from the arcade. They typically exchange casual greetings, but as Steve waits, Eddie stands with him, offers him a cigarette.

"Read that was you who messed with Click's pencils. Good one."

Eddie shrugs, gives a little bow and a smile. "Happy to be of service."

"It was my class, when she found them. Never seen her so mad."

"No way," Eddie laughs. "Not even when Hagan drew dicks on all the textbooks?"

"Not even then, man. She was throwing pencil stubs everywhere."

"Fuck, sad I missed it." Eddie takes a drag, Steve's eyes following the movement, lingering on his mouth. Something warm and tingling builds at the base of his spine and he forces his gaze away.

"How long you in detention for?"

"I'm not. Swore it wasn't me, and Click doesn't want to admit she reads the Tattler, so. Not much they could do. "

"I've seen it sitting on her desk!"

"I know! She reads it when she has detention duty!"

They lean against Steve's car, laughing, and Steve feels good. This is good. He likes Eddie. He's funny and dramatic and smart and kind. He's not deserving of any of the mean things that get submitted to the Tattler.

The kids come streaming into the parking lot then, and Eddie stubs out his cigarette, says "see you around, Harrington," and Steve finds himself flushing for reasons he can't quite explain.

---

He starts seeing Eddie around way more. He's in school most days, smoking in the parking lot after the last bell, chatting with Steve in the hallways.

It shows up in the Tattler; big news that the King and the Freak are hanging out. Most of the submissions are about it, increasingly elaborate rumors about their supposedly deep, close friendship.

He wishes he could tell Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie invites him to smoke at the quarry. He doesn't hesitate to say yes, doesn't even bother to try ignoring the swoop in his stomach, the speed of his heart.

They sprawl out in the back of the van, Eddie's loud, raucous music pounding around them, sharing a joint back and forth.

Steve gets hazy, boneless, can't stop watching Eddie, the way his lips purse around the joint, his long hair glinting gold in the weak light of the camping lanterns, the pleased shine of his eyes every time he makes Steve laughs.

He likes Eddie so much. Everything about him, honestly. Butterflies ping in his stomach, happy and slow, and he thinks how nice Eddie's lips are, wonders how soft they must be. And he thinks--he's read the submissions, right--he knows the things they say about Eddie, and he wishes it was true, he wants--he wants--

He wants

---

Steve's running late to check the locker. Lost track of time at the diner with Eddie, and it's making him panic.

He stuffs the submissions haphazardly into the pocket of his hoodie, dancing with nerves, willing himself to grab them all and get out.

Locker emptied, he sprints towards the exit. He has a second to process someone barreling towards him in the dark, but he's going too fast to stop, can only brace himself as they collide.

It sends him sliding across the floor, Tattler submissions spilling out of his pocket like snow. He hits the ground, scrabbling for the papers, praying that whoever is here with him can't see them in the low light.

Hands grips his biceps. "Stevie, Steve, we have to get out of here" and there's a second where he's comforted by the familiar rasp of Eddie's voice before terror spikes again.

He pulls himself from Eddie's grasp, searching for any dropped submissions in easy reach. "Wha--why--what's--"

"I ran into Jason Carver and his band of idiots at the gas station. They're on their way to here to try to catch the Tattler in action."

Steve freezes. "I don't--that's not--I--"

In the deep silence of the empty school, they both hear the slamming of a door, a bitten off giggle. Eddie grabs his wrist and they run. Into the theater room, through a door Steve didn't know existed, to the backstage area of the auditorium.

"You should be safe here," Eddie says.

Panic spirals through him. "I can explain. I was just--I forgot a--I needed--"

"Harrington! I know, okay? I already know."

Steve can only blink at him, swallows rough in his throat. "What--Eddie, I--"

"I saw you. Weeks ago. Forgot my notebook in the theater room after Hellfire and had to run back for it. You were there, at the locker."

"You can't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to."

"No, Munson, you really can't. Nobody can know. Nobody--"

"Swe--Stevie, I promise. The secret's safe with me." He rocks back on his heels, chewing on his lip for a second before he continues. " I--I couldn't figure you out, you know? I saw you around with those kids and it didn't make any sense. King Steve, babysitting tiny nerds? But I saw you at the locker and..."

"You're giving me too much credit, man."

"I don't think so. You're never--fuck, Harrington--you're never mean. At least, not in the last couple years. You spread gossip, but you don't punch down, and you're funny as hell. Mean as shit too, but only to the people who deserve it."

His ears burn and he looks down. "Just because I have fucking--fucking editorial standards doesn't mean that I'm anything special."

Eddie scoffs. "Remember, Stevie, I was reading it a year before you were here. Cruel, vapid garbage. Always the most vile, pointless stories about people who couldn't defend themselves. And how many submissions have you gotten about me, for instance, that you've never used?"

Steve clenches his fists. "I would never--"

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. That's why I li--You're so fucking good, Stevie."

He laughs, ears burning. "I'm really not, Eddie. I try to write about fun gossip that can't hurt anyone too much, and nobody's found me out because they think I'm too dumb--"

Eddie reaches out then, fingers connecting softly with the edge of Steve's jaw. He can't help but lean into the touch, eyes flickering closed.

"You don't want to hurt people because you're fucking kind. You know how I know for sure? You must get submissions every week about me, and you've never once printed that I'm--" Eddie stops then, swallowing hard.

Steve's throat goes tight. He rests his hand over Eddie's, still holding his face. "Me too," he whispers. "Kind of. I like--it's both. For me."

"Oh," Eddie breathes, mouth lifting in a bright, beautiful smile that Steve can't help but return.

He's watching, sees when Eddie's gaze drifts his lips, making his breath hitch. He doesn't really think about closing the distance between them, slotting their mouths together in a tentative, gentle kiss.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you, Steve Harrington? Eddie asks when they part.

Steve blushes. "That's sort of the last of them."

"Sure. Next you'll be telling me you've played dnd."

"I have a character."

"What???"

"Human paladin. Dustin worked on it with me. Ready to get out of here?"

"Human paladin," Eddie gapes. "You know--you said--what's happening?"

Steve twines their fingers together, leading Eddie towards the auditorium exit. "Well, first we're going to walk out to my car and then we're going to my house, and we're going to look through Tattler submissions. Maybe makeout a little bit."

Eddie giggles. "What the fuck? Like. What the fuck, sweetheart?"

He turns to face Eddie, smile big and pure and bright with happiness. "If you're really nice to me, I'll let you help write this week's issue."

"Oh, oh. You're going to wreck me." Eddie mumbles, almost to himself.

"If you're lucky." Steve beams.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Love Letters to You

Eddie Munson x reader

You find Eddie’s journal and realize that he is very much in love with you.

Thanks @the-witty-pen-name for this idea!

You enter Eddie’s cluttered room where you expect to find him, but he’s not there. You figure he’s just late getting home from work so you sit in his room and wait for him. You’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t feel weird doing that anymore. You sometimes even help yourself to a snack while you talk with Wayne.

You feel so comfortable in that little trailer, the place where you spend more time than your own home. And the Munson men always welcome you with open arms because to them, your family. Wayne loves that Eddie’s finally found someone who treats him the way that he deserves. He’s been kicked around quite enough so it’s about time that he got the girl.

You sit on Eddie’s bed, drumming your fingers against your legs as you look around the room for something to entertain you. Your eyes lock on a journal that’s amongst the clutter. You know you shouldn’t, but you reach for it and flip through it. Eddie’s always told you that what’s his is yours and you think that applies here.

You open the journal and it takes you a second to be able to read what it says. As soon as you can make out the words, you feel tears well up in your eyes. You just know it’s about you from the way it’s written. It’s so beautiful, so poetic and you don’t think anyone has ever written anything like this about you.

Our fingers are like puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. I never thought I’d be able to hold my entire world in my hand, but here you are.

You feel so lucky to have found someone like Eddie. Everyone else always thinks of him as this evil person, but how could someone evil write something so sweet like this? This just further proves that he’s not at all like what they say.

Your voice is the perfect song. The kind that I want to play at full volume as I cruise down the highway with the windows down on a warm summer day.

You flip through the pages and they're all filled with little poems and lyrics-all about you. You seem to be the only thing that lives in his head and it warms your heart to have someone who thinks so highly of you.

My entire life I never felt like I had a place to call home. Then I looked into your eyes and realized that home isn’t a place, but rather a feeling. And that’s what I feel like when I’m with you.

You’re so engrossed in what you’re reading that you don’t even hear Eddie come in. He just stands in the doorway, looking at you with so much admiration, smiling like an idiot.

He clears his throat and you jump, almost losing your grip on the journal and he just laughs, making his way over to you. He sets the journal on the bed then pulls you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling you in for a hug.

You’re so overcome with all of these different emotions that you can’t help but cry into his shoulder. It’s the happy kind of crying-the kind where you feel so loved, so appreciated.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into his skin and he just rubs your back like always, knowing that this is the best way to soothe you. “I just-I didn’t know you felt that way about me. I mean, you love me?”

“Sweetheart,” he chuckles. “I have loved you since the moment I saw you and I will continue to love you even after I take my last breath. You’re it for me.”

“I love you too,” you reply as he wipes away your tears.

You’re wearing matching grins and neither of you can believe that you actually got this lucky. You know it’s still early, but you’re sure that you’re going to be spending forever together.

“Now c’mon, let’s get washed up. Don’t want to keep Wayne waiting,” he grabs hold of your hand and pulls you into the kitchen where you wash your hands together, giggling as Wayne watches you with a giant smile on his face. He knew the kid would find someone eventually and god is he glad that it’s you.

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

or, you sleep over at eddie's for the first time.

"Eventually, you do settle. And it's perfect. You've never felt so warm, safe, or loved..."

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Wayne's gone so, you've got the whole trailer to yourselves. Which is quite nice when you're helplessly in love. The two of you spend the evening eating Eddie’s snacks (some of which he stocked up on for tonight) and watching reruns of Happy Days. But mostly just talking and enjoying each other's proximity as you're cuddled on the couch.

When it finally comes time for you to get ready for bed, you do your night routines around each other in the bathroom because you want to stay close, even if it is a tight squeeze.

As you're brushing your teeth, you stand in front while Eddie stands over your shoulder, his reflection in the mirror smiling at you from around his toothbrush. Both of you laugh when toothpaste drips onto his chin.

Things are definitely a lot slower and sleepier, but you couldn't ask for anything more.

There's a sense of ease about Eddie that's hard to come by. Part of you wonders how you'd gone so long without it. It feels like you've known each other for a lifetime.

Dim lamplight illuminates his bedroom as you crawl into his bed. The mattress creaks softly beneath your weight, and the sheets rustle as you settle beneath them. He lets you take the spot near the wall, while he takes the outside. Everything smells like him, earthen with the faintest undertone of something sweet.

Just as he's reaching over to the nightstand to switch off the lamp, you place a hand between his shoulder blades that makes him peek back at you.

"Hmm?" His eyes are soft as they take you in.

When you don't say anything, he gives you his full attention, turning to face you while propped on a forearm. Then he sees it. The beginnings of a smile. The amusement kindled just beneath the surface.

"You forgot my goodnight kiss."

Eddie sighs like the news grieves him.

"Already gave you about fifty. How many more do you need?" Even as he's saying this, he's leaning in to close the gap.

His lips are soft and sweet against your own. Warmth settles in your stomach.

"Satisfied?" he asks.

You nod your head in confirmation, then Eddie finally cuts the lights.

In the darkness, all sounds seem magnified. The muffled voices outside in the distance. Car wheels against gravel. Even your own breaths as your bodies truly begin to wind down. You can feel each other's heat, the weight of your proximity. It's new, and exciting, and grounding all at the same time.

For two people who always seemed to have a lot to say when it came to talking to each other, a comfortable silence settles in the space between you. It isn't long before Eddie's hand settles on your hip. It prompts you to roll over and face the wall so that you're turned away from him.

He presses in closer, his chest against your back. "This okay?" he asks.

"No," you joke at first. Eddie freezes for a fraction of a second. "It's perfect," you eventually say.

A shiver tumbles down your spine at the plush feeling of his lips meeting the nape of your neck in a gentle kiss. "An extra one for the road," he explains in a murmur.

You laugh not only because of the feathery brush of his lips, but because you still can't believe this is your life. Eddie starts laughing too, and you end up getting swept into a spell of amusement that makes itself hard to shake.

"Shhh," you manage to complain through your laughter, nudging his foot beneath the covers.

"You shush," he counters, giving your side a playful pinch.

Eventually, you do settle. And it's perfect. You've never felt so warm, safe, or loved.

Eddie yawns, then whispers, "Night, angel."

"Night, Eddie."

navigation

[eiightysixbaby]

kissin’ lace in the backseat

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

something something eddie loves your lace panties something something

cw: 18+ oral (f receiving)

a/n: this is really short i’m so sorry but at least my brain let me put something out 🙂‍↕️

“I like these.”

Eddie’s mouth lingers, hot, centimeters away from your nearly naked cunt. The only thing between him and your bare skin is a full-lace pair of baby blue panties.

He kind of loves them. Okay, he really loves them.

Like, for some reason it’s turning him on more that you’re not fully bare. The way the underwear barely holds you in, lips ready to spill out from beneath the garment with one little bit of movement. Hair peeking through the delicate fabric — because fuck him if he’s ever gonna ask you to shave.

You’re delicious right now, and Eddie wants to savor you. He’s never seen you in anything like this.

“Yeah?” You wiggle your hips a little bit, sprawled on your back in the back of his van.

The subtle motion makes the tip of his nose just barely make contact with your clit, and you moan. You fucking moan, at the slightest bit of friction.

God, Eddie’s a goner.

Your skin is warm from the golden hour sunlight that filters through the windows, and he likes the way you feel beneath his palms. He nods his agreement as he lets his hands glide up your torso, slipping beneath your shirt to reveal — sure enough — a matching lace bra to your panties.

The thought that you intentionally picked out a matching set for him is making him want to ruin you.

He groans, letting his fingertips flit briefly across the cups before he’s dragging his hands back down, index and thumb turning their attention to the little bow at the waistband of your underwear. He plays with it absentmindedly, his eyes drinking you in completely.

“Eddie, come on,” you whine at him, glancing down your body to meet his eyes where they hover between your thighs.

“Sorry baby, you’re jus’ so pretty,” he praises, his voice a husky rasp. You can feel his breath hot against you, and it only makes you wetter.

You sigh, a soft little sound, letting him trace his fingers up and down the outsides of your thighs. His nose brushes your clit again, intentionally this time, before you feel his mouth suction onto your core.

Over your panties.

The moan that comes out of you is sharp, guttural. You can feel both the warm wetness of his mouth and also the pleasant scratch of the lace against your skin. It makes your fingers curl hard around the blanket beneath you, gripping tight to soft fabric to keep yourself tethered. Your body practically throbs with desire.

“Eddie—” you gasp, back arching, a sly little laugh escaping him as it happens.

His tongue presses itself flat against your folds, saliva soaking blue lace. You hiss at the friction of the fabric against you as he presses his tongue in, ever so slightly breaching your hole. He flicks his tongue back and forth, teasing you and himself all at once.

Eddie’s in heaven, plain and simple, his cock straining hard against his jeans. Worked up beyond belief over a stupid pair of underwear. He feels kind of like a teenager, creaming his jeans over seeing a thong for the first time or something.

But he can’t help it. There’s just something about the way these look on you. There’s something about you, period.

Shamelessly, he sucks, pulling the fabric into his mouth. Tasting your arousal, stripping the lace of it, looking up at you with those torturous brown eyes all the while. He moans around the mouthful, the expression on his face sinful as you stare at each other. You buck your hips, whining, reveling in the firm squeeze of his hands at your thighs.

He lets go of the panties eventually, pressing his face in close to kiss over your core. He starts at your clit, working his way down until his lips press over your entrance. A finger hooks inside of the now drenched underwear, pulling them aside just enough to let himself tongue fuck you properly.

You can tell how worked up he is in the way his hips rut against the floor of the van, the way his tongue sloppily takes what it wants from you. He’s nearly making out with your pussy, uncaring that you’re dripping his saliva and your own arousal onto his blankets.

“So fucking hot, wearing your little matching set for me,” Eddie’s voice rumbles against you, pink plush lips torturing you. “Pretty lace, just for me. All for me.”

You could already tell, but the verbal confirmation that he likes it makes your face go incredibly warm. He’s so gone, so lost in you, it has you reeling.

So when he makes you cum in mere minutes with his mouth, your body shaking harder than possibly ever before, you decide you need to buy more lace panties.

For, you know, research purposes.

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter four

⭐︎ While I’m alone and blue as can be

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, mentions of blood and wounds, gore, post apocalypse au, major character death

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Steve's outburst leaves him guilty and regretful, but a conversation might fix things... a little.

Word count: 6k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult thank you for proofreading, for fixing my dumbass mistakes and for writing with me hehe

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter ⭐︎ next chapter

☀︎

It was surprising how well you adapted to this change, to being back on the road. You imagined it to be harder when you were still back in Hawkins, you thought that you would struggle after days spent in warmth and safety but you didn’t, you don’t struggle – maybe it’s got to do with the fact that you are not alone this time, that you still have a warm bed to sleep in every night, that you still have the feeling of safety thanks to the people you are with, that you still have a roof over your head. The RV almost feels like home. For now, you have enough food and water to last for a while, though you still stock up on cans, water bottles snacks wherever you can find some, gas stations, grocery stores, and shops that you stop by on the way. 

It’s been three days since you left Hawkins, three days since you saw Steve fall to his knees and cry out tears that you know he must’ve pushed away since the day he lost her. You felt so bad for him, your heart broke at the sight of his pain and at the sound of his cries. You pitied and felt for him, though it still didn’t take away the pain he left you with. His words hurt, and they stung deeply. You were stupid to think that things could work out between you and him when he shared a moment with you in the kitchen, you got too hopeful. He was mean and cruel to you; it was a mistake to try and be his friend.

Now, you don’t talk much to him, only when you have to. You don’t look at him all that much either, nodding at his questions and giving short replies. He tries. He tries to talk to you, to strike up conversation but you don’t want it, you don’t want to talk to him, knowing that he only does it out of guilt. It wasn’t a surprise to you when he approached you on the first day and offered his help to cook dinner with you. You declined and asked for Eddie instead. 

He isn’t heartless, nor is he a bad guy, of course the guilt and the regret would catch up eventually but it doesn’t make the feeling in your chest go away, the dread and the sadness he put inside of you. 

The tension between you is thick and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Eddie and Nancy. Even on the day of your departure, they knew something had happened the night you ran after Steve. You came back crying, and the next day you barely talked, sat there with puffy red eyes and a sad look on your face. 

And now, whenever he comes close to you, whenever he tries to talk to you or help with something, you bolt, not wanting to be anywhere near him, not wanting his help, not wanting to talk to him, nothing. 

Maybe it would have gone unnoticed by them if it wasn’t for the time you’ve spent together cooking the night before you left Hawkins. It was tense between the two of you before, but it was different because you still tried and he didn’t have that guilty look on his face he has now. Every time he asks you something and you reply with less than three words before walking away from him, his eyes follow you, filled with guilt and sadness. 

‘He looks like a kicked puppy’, Eddie had said to Nancy. 

He looked like one for the past three days, and it’s seemingly getting worse. The longer you behave this way towards him, giving him nothing but a cold shoulder, his eyes sadden a little more. 

You are completely unaware of it all. If only you took a better look, you would see it too. 

-

Leaning against the side of the RV, Eddie is smiling with his eyes closed, enjoying the faint warmth of the afternoon sun as he puffs out the smoke from his cigarette, humming the melody of a song Steve doesn’t recognize. 

Unlike the metalhead, Steve looks anything but relaxed, his eyes glued to the dusty windows of the gas station you and Nancy are currently inside of, looking for food to stock up on. He is swinging his bat back and forth, pacing around as he waits. 

He wanted to be the one to go into the gas station with you, though Nancy didn’t even give him the chance to before she followed you inside and told him to stand guard with Eddie. 

The guilt of what he’s done, of what he said to you has been eating at him, worsening every day. He despises what he did when he was angry, and he can’t forgive himself for directing his anger at you. You were right, you were right from the start and deep down he knew it. 

Nothing waited for him back there, not her, not even the ghost of her but he didn’t want to accept it. 

Now he has to deal with the aftermath of the ugliness that ripped out of him when he hurt you. You can’t even look at him and it makes him feel like the worst person alive. 

Eddie peeks one eye open, taking a look at his friend, he can see the distressed look on his face, the deep frown and the way he constantly runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit. He would be amused by this if it wasn’t for the hurt look in your eyes. 

The door opens and Nancy walks out with a box, grinning at Eddie, “we got corn, tuna, beans, we even found some trail mix and chips, they might be a little stale but–”

“Is she still inside?” Steve asks, interrupting her as he looks over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, she’s desperately looking for something sweet,” Nancy chuckles as she moves past him, getting into the RV to put away the things she gathered. 

Eddie takes one last drag of his cigarette before he throws it on the ground, killing the flame with his boot; he starts making his way over to the entrance when he feels a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the RV.

“Stay here,” Steve orders as he makes his way inside instead, wanting to use this moment to be alone with you, to talk to you, to apologize. He closes the door behind him and takes a look around. Most shelves are empty, covered in dust and cobwebs, some cans and bottles are lying around, and an unpleasant smell hangs heavy in the air. He hears some rustling to his right, followed by a string of curse words falling from your mouth. He follows that sound, careful not to step on any fallen object. He finds you in the last aisle, and he notices that one of the shelves has fallen over, leaving a mess on the floor, some bags of candy and chips lying beneath it and you are crouched before it, searching for something, the variety before you seemingly not satisfying enough. 

Steve opens his mouth but he quickly closes it again when he feels the coil in his throat. 

“Reese’s pieces and sour patch kids are not the most popular candy in the apocalypse I guess,” you mumble as you turn around, not expecting to be met by hazel eyes and that guilty face. “Oh… it’s you.” 

Your face falls and his heart drops, he grows nervous. 

“I-I yeah, uh,” he stutters, bringing his hand up to his hair to run his fingers through it. Now that he stands here before you, he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to start with his apology, he doesn’t even know how to apologize, he was so mean to you when all you wanted was to help, you wanted him to come with you, you wanted him to leave the dying town because you didn’t want him to die with it. “I wanted to check up on you… Nance found a bunch of cans.”

Your eyes scan his face, the nervousness and the guilt filled eyes – that is the only reason why he is here, the guilt is eating him alive and he can’t handle it, it’s not even about you and that he hurt you, it’s about himself, only about himself.

“Yeah, we got lucky.” You mumble as you turn around again, no longer focused on the candy, you just don’t want to face him. It’s difficult enough avoiding him in the RV. 

He hates the stoic tone in your voice, it’s so unlike you. Even when he was cold towards you back in Hawkins, you were never like this with him. 

He looks down at you, noticing how slow your movements have become, how you are no longer moving the bags of candies around, looking for that one specific one. You don’t want to look at him and he doesn’t blame you, he can’t. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, not knowing how to start this off, not wanting to make it any more awkward than it already is. 

A sigh falls from your lips, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. 

Steve is being nice, kind – it’s the side of him you were looking for a few days ago, and you couldn’t find it then. If it’s driven by guilt now, then you don’t want this kindness. 

You push yourself up, taking another deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You know you have to start talking to him again at some point, you can’t bear this awkwardness for long either. 

You also can’t bear this look on his face, those stupid eyes, the pout and his tousled hair. You don’t want to look at him in that way. You know he wants to apologize, you also know that he sucks at it. 

“No, I’m done here.” You shrug, gesturing to the box you filled with snacks and toiletries you could find, along with other things you could need for the RV. You’re about to bend down to pick up the box when he stops you by placing his hand before you. 

“I got it,” Steve murmurs, adjusting his bat as he bends down to grab the box. 

“Okay…” You mumble, pulling back. 

You wait for him to move, to turn around and walk out of the store but he doesn’t, instead he straightens his back, with the box on his hands, he directs his gaze at you again. 

You brace yourself for what he is about to say, taking a deep breath, you cross your arms over your chest. 

He starts by saying your name, softly, carefully. You realize how foreign it sounds rolling off his tongue. 

“I-I know this won’t change what I did, what I said but I’m really sorry, I’m sorry for hurting you, for saying those things about your family. I was… I didn’t want to leave, I was angry – and I know that’s not an excuse – I… fuck… I’m horrible at this but I’m just, I’m really sorry. I hope your family is okay and that you will see them again… soon.” 

You can hear the desperation in his voice, the need to make this right. You can see the softness in his eyes, something you aren’t familiar with in the slightest. His lips are curled downwards, the sadness in his features so clear. 

You nod, the tension in your shoulders from all these previous days slowly falling. 

“Thank you, Steve, I appreciate your apology.” The tone in your voice and the look on your face isn’t so convincing though. “And I know that my family is okay, I will see them soon.” 

Good. He didn’t kill your hope. He hopes that it’s good. 

His lips curl up a bit, you are so set on it, you are so sure of it, that your family is okay and that you will reunite with them. It scares him a bit. You are so hopeful now, so confident about it – what will happen when you won’t find them the way you wish to? What will happen to you? Will you lose yourself the way he did when he lost her? Will you die the way he did? Will you be a ghost trapped in a living body? 

You forgive him, but you don’t crack a smile, not even a small one, not like you used to even when he was being an asshole to you. You clear your throat and break eye contact, brushing the fallen strands from your single braid behind your ears. 

The tension between you is still there, the awkwardness and the hurt in your features. He has to try harder than this, an ‘I’m sorry’ won’t cut it. 

“I–”

“We should go, we need to set up camp before it gets dark.” 

Before he can even say, or try to say anything, you move past him, hurrying out of the store, wanting some distance between you just like before. He can’t blame you, he can’t be mad at you but his shoulders slump still, and his face falls too. He didn’t feel this before, he didn’t feel this kind of guilt back in Hawkins because he wasn’t vulnerable, his feelings were bottled up and the lid was closed tightly, there was no space for those kinds of emotions, anything other than anger was impossible for him to feel. 

But after he let her go, after he allowed himself to finally grieve and cry, to empty that bottle of emotions, he started feeling everything again, all at once, overwhelmingly so, and now it all feels so intense. 

The urge to run his fingers through his hair is strong but his hands are full. He sighs loudly, shifting on his feet, he is about to follow you out when his eyes catch a glimpse of something red underneath one of the broken shelves, something you must have been looking for. 

-

The fire crackles before you, the flames are kept low to not attract attention. You sit close to it, needing warmth on your cold skin, the blanket around you isn’t enough, the gusts of wind cause goosebumps to rise on your skin. It’s mid fall, but it’s already getting so cold, and you could smell the hint of winter nearing. 

You can’t help but feel a little jealous of Nancy and Eddie, they get to sleep in the warm RV tonight while you stay out here, doing night watch with Steve. You volunteered yourself, though you quickly regretted it when Steve said he’d join you. 

You were successfully avoiding that the past three days, you either did night watch with Eddie or Nancy. Last night you were the lucky one who got to sleep in the big bed while Steve took the couch – now you are sitting here, out in the cold, tugging the blanket closer around you. 

Steve left to do a perimeter check, not trusting the area despite how safe it seems compared to the ones you have spent your nights at in the past when you were still by yourself. He didn’t want to listen to you though, he grabbed his rifle and left about twenty minutes ago. 

You hold your mug filled with coffee tightly to your chest, chasing that warmth and the smell that reminds you of the past, of simple mornings in your bed with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and your favorite book. You wonder if you will ever get to experience that, if you will find a place that will allow you to live like you used to. 

The sudden sound of footsteps behind you, startles you a little, and he seems to notice. 

“Just me.” 

You wish you could lose that tension in your body again, but you don’t, knowing that you will have to spend the night with him, that you can’t use excuses to run from him, to avoid him, to avoid talking to him. 

He walks around you, glancing at you briefly, he places his rifle down, leaning it against the other free camping chair. You expect him to take a seat, instead he walks away and towards the RV. You watch him curiously, how he carefully opens the door and steps inside on tiptoes, not wanting to wake Nancy and Eddie. 

You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward a little. You keep staring at the door, waiting for him to come back out, though when he steps back out, you quickly look down, hiding your curious eyes from him. 

You hear the click of the door and his boots against the stairs as he walks down, his feet hit the grass in soft thuds. You hear the rustling of plastic. It sparks your interest again, wondering what he got from the RV but you don’t look up, not until his boots come into your vision and he stands right before you. 

Your eyebrows pull together even more, a confused frown making its way onto your face. You tilt your head up to look at him, though your eyes meet his only briefly before the bag in his hand catches your attention and suddenly, all the tension in your body disappears, your lips part and you straighten your back, a little too quickly, causing the blanket to fall from your shoulders. 

Steve’s lips curl into a small smile, he tries to hide it but the excitement on your face and how your eyes light up, make it impossible for him to. 

"Kitkats!?" You yell in a whisper, trying not to shriek and jump to your feet. “You found Kitkats!?”

He can’t hold back the chuckle now, his chest bubbling with an unfamiliar feeling as he looks down at you. 

“Yeah, the last bag, it was stuck between one of the shelves,” he explains, biting his cheek when your eyes look into his. “Your favorite candy… it’s what you were looking for, right?”

Your eyes soften and your lips curl into a small smile. He remembered. He remembered your favorite candy even though it was mentioned only briefly. Warmth floods your chest and something flips in your stomach. 

You nod. 

“Yeah,” you whisper as you bring up your hand to take the bag from him, “I’ve been looking for them everywhere!”

“Yeah, it nearly got you killed,” Steve shakes his head at you and at your gas station incident before you found your way to Hawkins. 

You shrug as you place the bag onto your lap, “now you know how much I love chocolate.” 

Steve gives you half a smile and a breathy chuckle, he looks at you for another long moment before he steps back and sits down on the camping chair next to you. He leans back and crosses his feet, staring into the fire. 

“Please don’t get yourself killed for chocolate,” he murmurs. 

“It’s the only thing that brings me happiness!” You exclaim in that tone that he began to miss. 

“Is it really?” He asks you, turning back to look at you. You have got to be the happiest person he has ever met, you always find a reason to smile, you always find something to be excited about, to look forward to, even in a world like this. He can’t relate, not in the slightest.

You look down at the bag of candy, shrugging, “no, you know me. I have a lot of hope.” Your words come out with a saddened look on your face.

Guilt fills him instantly, he judged you for it, he judged you for something that he no longer has. Hope. Life – there is none of that left in him anymore, no light turned on, while yours is still blazing and glowing brightly. Yours didn’t fade, yours hasn’t been touched by the ugliness of this world. 

He whispers your name softly, his faint voice so guilt filled. 

“It’s good that you have it, that you still have some… life left in you, makes it a bit easier to bear this world.” He admits nervously. “I know you must think I’m a horrible person, I’ve said horrible things–”

“I don’t think you’re a horrible person, Steve,” you interrupt him, turning your head towards him to find him looking at you already, his hazel eyes filled with regret, you know he wishes he could take his words back. “You were hurt and angry, you were grieving.” 

He blinks. 

“Yeah, but I was an asshole–”

“It’s okay, you apologized, you’re not being an asshole now, that’s what matters.” You shrug, not wanting him to feel bad anymore. 

He nods slowly, not moving his eyes away from you. The light from the fire illuminates your face, he sees all the emotions flickering in your eyes, every twitch of your lip, every frown, the softness of your skin, the color of your lips– he catches himself quickly, and instantly forces himself to look away. 

“And maybe you can find that hope again…” You add, carefully. 

“I doubt that. I never had that in the first place, not even then…” He stops when he catches himself spilling more than he would like to. He turns to you, and you are looking right at him, with a frown on your lips and a curious look in your eyes. You want to know and a part of him wants to talk, to let things out. A part of him even feels like he owes it to you. 

He takes a deep breath, looking back into the flames. 

“I-I… I feel like a part of me…” He hesitates, struggling to find the right words. “When Robin died, it felt like a part of me was ripped out of my chest and I buried that part with her. The day she died, I died too – only that I am still breathing and she isn’t… I didn’t want to leave Hawkins because I felt like she was still there, like I could be with her. Leaving meant accepting her death, accepting that she is gone, accepting that I am still alive, that I have to find a way to live without her.” 

His eyes glisten with tears, his cheeks burn red, illuminated by the flames. He doesn’t hold back, he doesn’t hide the sadness on his face. 

You don’t either, you can’t imagine what goes on inside of him, how the sadness eats at him, how the darkness took hold of him. 

“I was so angry at myself for not being able to protect her, I was so angry at this world for taking her from me that I grew hateful of everything and everyone, I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want Nancy and Eddie to leave. I now see how selfish that was but in the state I was in, I was just so… mad and unaccepting of the fact that they wanted to live, something that I did not want. I didn’t want to live again. I knew I’d have to the moment I’d step foot outside again, I would have to fight to protect them, I would have to fight for survival, I would be forced to move. I wouldn’t be able to visit her or be with her… ever again.”

Your chest feels tight with grief for him, you can’t imagine what he felt like when he lost her, and even now. You can see how much he is struggling still, the pain in his eyes is so clear, his voice is slightly shaky, like he is about to break into tears again. 

He lost someone he loved so dearly. He lost his best friend. You had them too, best friends. But they never stayed that for long, none of them ever loved you the way Steve loved Robin.

You can’t help but wonder if he felt more for her, if it wasn’t only friendship for him. 

“Robin was the first person who was my friend not because I was King Steve,” he scoffs at his popular nickname from High School. “She was my friend because she liked me, she was the first person who wanted to get to know me, who wanted to spend time with me, who was there not only on my good days but also on the bad. She loved me for me.” There is a tremble in his voice, a stronger one than before, he is pained, so pained that it hurts your heart. 

You don’t know what to say, there are no right words to comfort him, to make him feel better, to take away his pain. He needs this, he needs to talk, to let it out – though you are surprised that he chose to do it with you. 

“She was the first person who held me, who comforted me, who was there.” He sniffles, staring down at his shaky hands as he goes back to the day when they were covered in her blood. “I was the last to hold her.” 

You blink when you feel your own tears welling up, the warmth stinging in your eyes. You watch how tears start rolling down his cheeks. A part of you wants to wipe them away and take his hand or even hug him, to give him the comfort that he needs. But you doubt that he’d want it from you. 

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” you whisper so sadly that it brings a new wave of tears into his eyes. 

His heart feels so heavy, the sadness burning in him, the grief coming back to life once again as he thinks of that night when he lost his best friend, his soulmate, his other half. A moment of weakness and she was gone – it was only a second that he looked away, it was only a split moment that he turned his back before he heard her scream, the pained sound, the ripping of flesh, blood spilling from her neck and staining her clothes and her hand as she clung desperately to the cut in her throat from where the Demogorgon had sliced her skin open. He remembers how he turned around in horror, how his heart stopped beating and the world stopped moving. They almost made it out, they almost made it out of Hawkins together like they always wanted to. Almost. She wasn’t supposed to be the last to get on the bus, it was supposed to be him but he had a child in his arms, a little boy who lost his parents, he needed to get him to safety. Robin was right behind him, she was right there, they were in the clear, she was already one foot inside the bus when that monster came out of nowhere. 

He remembers the look in her eyes when he saw what had happened, he remembers the adrenaline that flooded through his body when he jumped out of the bus with an axe in his hand, he doesn’t even remember how he killed it, he only remembers dropping to his knees and pulling her weak body into his arms, he remembers how he promised her. 

‘You will be okay, Robin. I promise, you will be okay. I got you, I got you, Birdie.’

But the life in her eyes was fading, tears slipping from the corners and down onto the cold ground, mixing with her blood as he pressed his hand to her wound. She held his hand, gripped it tightly, like she was afraid to let go. She struggled out his name and looked at him with nothing but fear in her eyes, a look that haunts him to this day. 

She didn’t want to die, she said so herself, she even begged because she was so afraid, and he was too. 

There was nothing he could do, there was no fixing it, there was no saving her. He could only hold her and watch how she died, how she slowly slipped away from him, how in her last remaining moments she only looked at him and into his eyes because that is the only place she found comfort in. She died in the arms of someone she felt at home with, she died in the arms of someone who loved her more than anything and he… he lost that, he lost his home. 

When he is done recalling that night, telling you every gory, every heartbreaking detail, he only tastes the saltiness from his tears, feels himself choking up though he doesn’t let the cries fall the way he did that night. He feels his heart hurting once again – though at the same time, it hasn’t felt this alive in a while. 

He wipes away his tears, and his voice dies. He doesn’t look to you, not yet but he hears your soft sniffle, hears you shifting around. From the corner of his eye, he watches you put your things down, the mug that must be cold by now and the candy he gave to you. And then, you scoot closer to him and you slowly lift your arm and place your hand on his shoulder, a comforting touch he has grown unfamiliar with. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and he notices how shaky your voice is too. 

He turns his head slowly, his eyes searching for your own, he sees every emotion – shock, sadness, pain, understanding. 

“I can’t imagine this… pain and what you are still going through. Robin deserved better, both of you.” You look back into the fire, frowning. “I understand why you didn’t want to leave, why you feel that way. I’d feel dead if I lost someone I loved that much.” 

Your heart hurts for him, squeezing in a painful way. His words sadden you. He feels dead, lost in a world that took away his other half and now he’s just a shell of himself, a pained soul. You wonder if he will ever find his way back to himself, you wonder if you could if you were in his place. 

“I do believe that she is with you though, i-if she was your soulmate, then she is with you… forever. She might have left this world but her energy is still there, always with you, following you every step of the way.” 

Steve purses his lips, tilting his head at you, “like a guardian angel?”

A small smile appears on your face, you nod, “yeah, kinda. Maybe she will send you a sign, maybe she did already and you haven’t noticed.” 

“A sign?” He shakes his head, still looking at you curiously, “like what?”

You shrug and turn to face him again, “you’ll know it, it has to be something that is– was special to you both, whether it’s a song on the radio or her favorite animal.”

“Oh,” he nods, furrowing his eyebrows as he wonders if he had missed any signs, if he was so focused on his grief that he paid no attention to what was going on around him. He falls silent, eyes focused on the flames before him. 

“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper after a long moment of silence. 

He leans forward, pressing his hands together over his knees as he fiddles with his fingers, he looks back at you, raising his eyebrows in question. 

“Thank you for telling me, for opening up to me, that means a lot.” 

He nods, taking in your softened features, your kind eyes that gleam again, and the comforting smile you look at him with. It warms his insides and causes his cheeks to flush but among these reactions, he also feels something else, a lightness in his chest that he hasn’t felt in so long, he needed to do this, to talk about this, to tell someone what he truly feels. 

“Thank you for listening,” he retorts, offering you a smile–a first, a genuine one. Your eyes light up at that, your shoulders rising a bit as you straighten your back, surprise flashes in your features and your smile only widens. It’s endearing, he has to admit that. 

“Always.” 

You look into each other’s eyes for a moment. You are surprised to see kindness, genuine and real kindness, and you can’t help but feel giddy at that. 

You are surprised when he moves closer to you, the smile still lingering on his face. He bumps his shoulder against yours, “I’m gonna be nicer from now on.”

You accepted him for who he is, his grumpiness and his rough demeanor sometimes. You don’t want him to change, you don’t want him to feel like he has to. 

“You don’t have to pretend–”

“I am not… I know I’m… kind of returning to who I was… slowly,” he murmurs. It’s something he didn’t want. He didn’t want to heal. He didn’t want to move on because he knew it meant accepting that she was gone but you were right, that night when you found him at her grave, you told him that she wouldn’t want this for him, and he hated it, hated that you were right and he hated how he felt that sparkle inside of him ignite again after he finally allowed himself to properly cry and grieve. 

“And who were you?” You asked with that tilt of your head as always. 

He knows what Robin would have said and he can’t help but smile. 

“... A fucking idiot.”

You giggle at his words but shake your head. 

“No, I doubt that!” 

“I saw the good in things… something I haven’t in over a year, and now I can– I am starting to feel it again… It’s not there yet but…”

You smile again, looking into the fire. You saw him smiling with Eddie today, heard his chuckle when the metalhead tripped over a log. It was a nice sound and the smile looked good on him. 

“Yeah, it looks better on you.” You whisper, not looking away from the flames. 

He tries not to look at you for too long but he can’t help it .He likes the way the golden light touches your skin, the way your eyes shine with contentment, the way your body is so relaxed again, something that wasn’t the case the previous nights. He likes the faint dimple on your cheek as you smile. He admires the way your lashes flutter every time you blink, the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, the way you–

He breaks himself out of his thoughts, forcing his eyes away from you, he clears his throat, jumping a bit when he looks down at his backpack, “ah wait–” he grabs it and unzips it quickly, taking out the radio from their living room back in Hawkins. “You guys left it, I thought we could use some music… sometimes.”

You smile widely at him, nodding. 

“Let’s see what stations we can pick up.” 

While Steve is trying to find a signal, to find a station that plays music, you reach for the second mug you had prepared before and grab the jug where you had cooked the coffee earlier. It’s still hot, steam rising up into the cold air when you pour him a cup. You place the mug on the small camping table that Eddie had set up earlier. Steve flashes you a smile, whispering ‘thank you’ followed by your name. 

You open the bag of Kitkat’s, excitement bubbling up in you to taste your favorite candy again. You pick out one of the bars and place it next to his coffee.

“You’re sharing your Kitkats with me? No way!” Steve gasps and chuckles when you roll your eyes in amusement. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, sunshine?” 

You giggle at the perplexed look on his face, ignoring the way the nickname made you feel warm all over. 

“What if I did?” 

“Then I’ll say that one of them,” he points his thumb at the RV, “is a real bad influence on you.” 

You snort and shake your head, “hmm, I don’t know. You're sassier than Eddie and Nancy.” 

“Me? Sassy!?” He scoffs. 

“Yeah, you’re sassy, Steve. Accept it.” 

He shakes his head in amusement but doesn’t comment on it, he looks down at the radio when the static noise suddenly disappears and he finds a station. 

And surprisingly… ‘Dream a little dream of me’ by Ella Fitzgerald starts playing, filling the space between you. 

The song is calm, warm, a distant memory of your father dancing with your mother in the kitchen while they prepared dinner on a sunday afternoon. Then, your brain processed what Steve had said, a question lingering in your lips.

“Why sunshine?” 

“Hmm?” He asked, his eyes closed in relaxation as he leans back in his chair. You could see the expanse of his neck, the markings around it, his Adam's apple– You shake your head to focus once again.

“You called me sunshine. Why?” You tilt your head in question and his eyes open, his head turning to face you again.

“I don’t know. You’re just… You just remind me of the sun.” He says as if his words mean nothing, as if his words were just that. Words. You giggle, not understanding the meaning of it.

“The sun? Hot and unbearable?” You say in a joking manner, earning a chuckle from his part, an authentic one. He closed his eyes again, leaning back as the song played along.

“No. Bright and warm.” Your smile fell instantly, not because you didn’t like his definition. Not because you thought that what he described you as was stupid. Not because you thought he was lying to you or making fun of you, because you could hear it in his voice that he wasn’t.

No.

Your smile fell because you swear your heart just skipped a beat.

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk

[thefreakandthehair]

cabin.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: cabin | wc: 699 | rating: teen & up | tags: steve pov, steve harrington has a crush on eddie munson, good uncle wayne, sharing body heat, one bed, fluff, getting together

Wayne and Eddie have been so accommodating, so kind, and almost embarrassingly welcoming to him joining their annual ice fishing road trip to Michigan that asking for an extra blanket feels criminal. With how much they’ve opened their arms to him after his parents all but ghosted for the holiday season, he’d rather freeze to death in this fucking cabin than dare to ask for something as stupid as an extra blanket. Besides, the cabin is small enough that he and Eddie are sharing a room; eventually, he’ll come to bed, feel how cold it is for himself, and go grab extra blankets on his own. 

He’ll survive for as long as it takes for Eddie and Wayne to finish the spaghetti western they’d been watching when he came to bed. 

Steve’s been through worse. 

Cool moonlight streams in beneath the thick, plaid curtains and illuminates the far wall, accentuating its wooden details and the knickknacks lining the shelves— a collection of small, handmade stuffed wildlife, framed photos of the lake, books with worn spines well-loved over the years. It’s a quiet space, a sanctuary that Steve’s never had even if he might lose a few toes. 

Is the cabin the sanctuary? Or is it the rare time alone with Eddie? 

He tries not to think about how many times he’s thought of this over the last couple years, how often he’s laid in bed imagining Eddie coming to bed with him and not just in the ways that make him squirm and sweat. He’s pictured it a hundred times over: Eddie sneaking in beneath the covers, trying not to wake him up but it’s not like Eddie has ever been smooth a day in his life. Steve would wake up from a light sleep, turning over to welcome him in and pull him close, wrinkling his nose against Eddie’s frizzy curls as he buries his face in Steve’s neck. He’d listen to him breathe, feel his body grow heavier and heavier against Steve’s and fall asleep to the even cadence of his heartbeat. 

Steve takes a deep breath and shakes his head, focusing instead on the organic spirals and swirls of the logs that make up the cabin walls. With heavy-lidded eyes that grow heavier despite the cold, he traces the markings and imagines patterns and pictures in them the way he had the starts as a kid. One looks like a moose without its antlers, another like an abstract palm tree. He doesn’t find a third one, and falls asleep trying. 

When he wakes up a couple of hours later, Steve’s warm. 

Extra blankets, soft wool, weigh him down and he sighs into the comforting presence that engulfs him. One tattooed arm rests over his hip and another squeezes beneath his pillow, a hand outstretched with silver rings that cover each finger and gleam in the slivers of light that continue to creep in between the curtains. Blinking his eyes open and biting the inside of his cheek to make sure he’s not dreaming, Steve realizes the warmth he’d woken up chasing is Eddie. 

Do I move over? Does he realize I’m not a pillow? Does he actually want this the way I want this? Did I die of hypothermia after all? Does he— 

“You think really loud, Steve,” Eddie whispers into the dark, his lips moving against Steve’s hair as he squeezes him gently around the middle. “Is this okay?” 

“Mhm,” Steve hums. “You’re so warm.” 

“Good, you were shivering when I came to bed.” He feels Eddie chuckle behind him, quiet breaths against his neck. He wants to turn around, to tuck himself into Eddie’s comfort and maybe just never leave. 

“Didn’t wanna bother you or Wayne for another blanket. Kinda glad I didn’t now,” Steve admits, words slurring as his shoulders sag. He wiggles back, trying to get impossibly closer. 

“We’ll talk more about that in the morning.” Eddie squeezes a knee between Steve’s and tangles their legs together. 

Steve nods wordlessly, pulling the top blanket further up beneath his chin. 

The last thing he remembers before drifting back to a dream that has no chance of rivaling reality is the feeling of Eddie’s lips against his temple. 

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[eddiesghxst]

hiii bae culd u plzzz plz write a short blurb abt innocent reader giving eddie head & absolutely loosing it & worshipping his balls🎀🎀🐇

ggrrrrrrr

you’ve sucked him off before. many times actually, it’s arguably one of your favorite pastimes, having his thick cock filling your mouth— because eddie can stave off an orgasm for hours and you’ve got a thing for having any part of eddie munson in your mouth.

you get so shy everytime you ask, it’s adorable. you’re all squirmy and soft spoken, asking to see his cock, asking if you can play with him like it’s not the only thing eddie is ever thinking about.

so you’re laying there between his spread thighs, tummy pressed into his messy bed sheets as you lazily mouth at his cock while he channel surfs.

he lets you do your thing, hardly pays any mind to you except for when he feels himself getting close and has to grip your hair to warn you to back off.

and because he’s hardly paying attention to you, he doesn’t notice how soft your eyes get, glazed, spaced out and low, blinking slowly as you just make out with his cock.

you want him everywhere. need to taste every inch of him. you don’t realize what you’re doing as you slowly descend, but eventually you’re rolling your tongue over his full balls. soaking them in spit and precum, lulling your eyes closed as you nuzzle into him, nose pressed against salty wet skin.

eddie taps in then. jolts when he feels your warm mouth suckling his balls, so wet and sloppy and greedy. he’s shocked, almost wants to pull you off and ask how your greedy little whore mouth got there, but then you’re sucking his full sack into your mouth and eddie’s eyes are rolling.

his thighs open wider, hips shifting up to give you easier access as you fucking devour him— it’s like you want to suck his cum out straight from the source.

you spend as much time as you can there until you run out of breath and part with a wet gasp, strings of spit bowing and snapping onto his thighs and your lips.

and he smells so fucking good like this. so raw and full of sex, you can’t stop yourself from pressing your nose into his balls, nosing up and rubbing your lips against him.

“f-fuck, you’re so fucking dirty. you like that? you like having my balls in your face?” he teases.

you whine, shifting against his sheets as you sloppily mouth at his full and heavy sack.

“yes daddy, love your balls— so much…” you shakily breathe— so fucking out of it.

eddie doesn’t last a second longer, he comes in thick ropes of white, splattering across your cheek and forehead, cursing your name and calling you a dirty slut.

it’s safe to say, that isn’t the last time eddie’s balls end up in your mouth <3

[coffeewasamistake]

Wedding Ink

For the Mini Pride Bingo hosted by @genderthings.

[AO3]

Prompt: Tattoo | Rating: Gen | WC: 1230 | Relationships : Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

Steve wants to marry Eddie and wear a wedding ring to show the whole world they belong to each other, homophobic laws be damned. But Steve is a nurse, and hospital rules are hospital rules.

It’s not that Steve dislikes jewelry. Honestly, it’s kind of the opposite.

Take Eddie’s rings, for example.

His boyfriend has a few of them, all bulky and impossible to ignore, and he barely takes them off to shower. They are always on his hands, even when he plays guitar, even when he sleeps. And he is so full of life, his man, always waving his hands around, rings catching the light with each movement, gleaming. 

The way he touches him is no better, warm hands and soft metal sliding across his skin, gripping, grabbing. Loving.

Steve likes rings. Especially Eddie's.

He’s just not allowed to wear jewelry at the hospital.

Becoming a nurse had not been easy, but after the whole mess that happened with the Upside-Down, after breaking Eddie’s ribs, each snap resonating like thunder in his arms when he was trying to breathe life back to Eddie’s lungs, after everything the nurses at Hawkins Memorial had down for them, strong and caring when the whole town had wanted to crucify Eddie… Steve had known. 

He loves his job. He has finally found his place in the world, one where he can help people in need. No day is really easy, but the rewards are worth the long shifts and the random hours. Being a nurse makes him feel useful in a way he had been craving for years.

He just wishes he could wear a ring.

Some of his coworkers are married, and they either keep their wedding band on a chain around their neck or take it off before their shift and store it in their locker.

He could do the locker thing, realistically. 

But he can’t get out of his head the absolute panic in his coworker Mary’s eyes, the high pitch of her voice, her harsh breathing and her shaking hands when they had ended their shift at the same time and her ring wasn’t in her locker.

She had found it, eventually, because, of course, she had left it at home and had forgotten all about it in the frenzy of hospital life, but the fear had lingered. She had stopped wearing her ring, keeping it in a jewelry box on her bedside table. Just in case.

And the thing is. Steve and Eddie can’t get married. Not legally at last. They have been talks of backyard wedding, one day, maybe, but the ring… The ring is a problem.

It eats at Steve. Days and nights.

He can’t imagine getting married and only having a ring to prove his devotion to his husband. Not when he can’t wear it all the time and could lose it at any given moment. All his wedding dreams end with his ring disappearing and Eddie looking at him through tears, asking if he doesn’t love him anymore. 

When he finally opens up to Robin, she’s kind about his fears. Understanding in a way that speaks about years and years of feeling out of the norm. Different. Kept from enjoying so many things that other people take from granted.

“It’s okay to feel like that, Steve. It’s scary to realize your love is not something people are going to accept, especially when another typical married couple thing is out of your reach.” She squeezes his arm. “You have coworkers who wear their wedding ring around their neck, right? Maybe you should do that when you finally take that step with Eddie.”

Steve swallows, his throat tight, fighting through the burn in his eyes.

“Northwestern Memorial has a very strict policy about jewelry. The only pieces nurses are allowed to wear are wedding bands on necklaces. And you have to provide a wedding certificate for that.”

“So, they wouldn’t…”

Steve loses the fight against tears.

“No, they would never let me wear any ring given by Eddie.”

“Oh, babe…” Robin arms wrap around him as he sobs. 

“Say, Stevie…” Her voice is wavering. She seems so unsure of herself, in a way that differs from her usual anxiety-fueled ramblings. “I could maybe marry you? Legally, I mean. Then you would marry Eddie, and you’ll be able to wear your wedding band around your neck.”

Steve’s burrow deeper into Robin’s embrace. He can’t deal with not being held right now.

“Thank you, Rob. But it wouldn’t be the same.”

They hug for a while, before Robin manages to make him laugh with a crazy anecdote about her least favorite coworker. They end up playing a drinking game in front of Star Wars, and Eddie is woken up at 2 a.m. by his very drunk boyfriend sliding in his bed.

“Hey, Eddie, Eddie?”

“Wot?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Mmmrrr.”

“I love you a lot, Eddie, like… like an insane amount. Scientists cannot quantify how much I love you, and…”

He is stopped by a kiss.

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie tiredly wraps himself all around his boyfriend, octopus-style. “But please, go to sleep.”

_______________________

They’re celebrating Nancy’s promotion in a gay bar when Steve has a revelation.

The girls want more drinks, and Steve grumbles but leave the warmth of Eddie’s arms to bring them cocktails.

“And a beer for your humble servant, please, my liege!”

And a beer for Eddie, apparently.

The bartender is only vaguely familiar, and he is pretty sure the guy wasn’t there two months ago. Steve flags the man down, and watches with a smile as he shakes Nancy’s elaborate cocktail. He is putting on a show, but Steve can tell it’s not really meant for him, not with the wedding band glistening on his left hand and the wink he throws at the new waiter. 

The wave of jealousy hits him unexpectedly. It must be nice to wear proof of your marriage in front of everyone like that, and to be able to flirt with your husband at your own place of work without having to watch your back. Maybe he should hang up his scrubs and go into bartending.

Steve shakes his head. He loves his job. He is being ridicul…

He frowns. 

What’s that just underneath the guy’s wedding band?

The bartender winks at him this time, playing with the ring.

“Had this one for almost two years now.” He points at the waiter. “It goes with that one.”

“What’s that?”

“Hum?” The bartender blink, then smiles again. “Oh! Look.”

He leans over the bar and shows Steve his hand, palm up. He pushes the ring out of the way, and just underneath, the initials S.W. are written in black ink. 

“Scott Williams. That’s my man.”

“It’s a tattoo.” Steve says numbly. 

“It sure is, darling.”

“I can get a tattoo.” Steve cannot breathe. He can have that. He can etch Eddie’s name into his skin, keep him there forever.

“Hey, don’t forget your drinks!”

Steve turns back to the bar, disoriented, and grab the tray the bartender is nice enough to give him.

“You okay, man?” He asks, visibly worried.

“Never been better.”

He walks past the crowd without seeing it and reach their group. Robin’s head shot up at his arrival.

“You’re alright, Dingus?” She frowns. “You look a bit shell shocked over there.”

She yelps when Steve put down the tray heavily on the table, drinks splashing.

“Hey, what are you…”

Steve climbs on his boyfriend’s lap.

“Eddie,” he cradles his face with both hands, reverent. “Will you marry me?”

[spicycinnabun]

jealous!tommy + date night - if tommy hadn't ran away after 8x11 and they'd talked (some) of it out. ao3 link

♡

Evan was FaceTiming with Eddie. 

Eddie had called, and Tommy had taken over whisking the white wine butter sauce so Evan could answer. He hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t reacted. Eyes on the pot.

Chris was auditioning for a part in a school play, and Eddie was telling Evan all about it. Rambling, really. He was nervous, and understandably so. It was a big deal for any parent. Evan was, of course, full of sweet reassurance and advice for him.

Tommy could’ve waited for their conversation to finish. He could’ve stayed out of the way, minded his own, or busied himself cleaning up the kitchen. The food would stay warm on the stove. It was fine.

…Except it wasn’t really fine. 

This was their night. Not best friend night.

Tommy put the whisk down on the spoon rest. He tried not to feel like the world’s most insecure manchild as he reached a decision.

He came up behind Evan and wrapped his arms around him. “Sorry to interrupt,” he lied, hooking his chin over Evan’s shoulder and speaking close to Evan’s ear. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Oh.” Evan made a small sound and huffed a half-laugh. He didn’t shoo Tommy away like Tommy thought he might, didn’t say I’ll be there in a minute. Instead, he leaned back against Tommy’s chest, letting Tommy take some of his weight. “Thanks, babe.”

Tommy smiled. Babe. Well, he’d take that.

Eddie pulled back from the camera. Squinted. “Hey, Tommy! Didn’t know you were there.”

Uh-huh.

Eddie smiled at him. Things weren’t great between them, and it showed in the thinness of his lips, but they were making an effort. For Evan, if not for themselves.

“Diaz,” Tommy acknowledged. The last name thing was a bit petty, he’d admit. His hand splayed, warm and possessive, over Evan’s stomach. Evan’s stomach muscles jumped, his cheeks turning pink on screen. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise.”

It was good to see Eddie. They had been friends. It stung not to be anymore, though Tommy had understood why he’d been ghosted. Tommy wanted to get back to their early camaraderie, eventually. He just wanted Evan to himself tonight more than he wanted that, that selfish beast rearing its ugly head again.

“Tommy and I made ravioli,” Evan explained, angling his phone towards the dirty pasta maker on the counter behind them, the mixing bowl and the open bag of semolina flour. 

The bag was still on its side, some of it spilled. They had knocked it over while fooling around. Tommy had lifted Evan onto the counter to kiss him stupid after he’d made a bratty remark about Tommy’s dough handling skills (“I can handle you, though.”).

The table set for two was also visible in the background. There was wine. Tommy had lit candles.

“Homemade pasta? Sounds great,” Eddie said. He looked a little envious. Tommy bet he missed Evan’s cooking. Now that Evan wasn’t at his Buck and call, he had to cook for himself or go to his parents’. “Chris and I ordered a pizza.” 

“Nice,” Tommy said, not unkindly. He didn’t say anything else.

Neither did Evan.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’ll let you two get back to your date. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Tommy wondered if that was the truth, but tried not to let his mind wander further down that path. Making an effort, he reminded himself.

“Call me tomorrow? I wanna hear how Chris’ audition went. And tell him we’re rooting for him,” Evan said, complete with grin and dorky fist pump.

“Of course,” Eddie said.

It eased something in Tommy that Evan didn’t assure Eddie he wasn’t intruding. It was their date. His hands moved to Evan’s hips and squeezed. He gave in to that beast again and made eye contact with Eddie as he kissed Evan’s jaw. Staking his claim. 

He let go and went to the stove to serve them, setting their plates on the table and turning on some soft music just as Evan stuttered a goodbye to Eddie.

[afewproblems]

Having depressing Steve Harrington Whump thoughts this sunny Sunday morning.

I usually headcanon Steve's parents as being neglectful and absent given their lack of screen presence in the show and thought about Steve grappling with this throughout his childhood.

Being left alone for days and eventually weeks at a time, starting much younger than was appropriate, but it was the era of latchkey kids and Richard and Darleen Harrington assumed Steve was capable enough to not really need watching. The house never burned down.

Their son was fine.

And Steve would be the first person to agree, to smile wanely while the migraines pounded in his head, a parting gift from Billy Hargrove and the and Russians. He was fine.

It was fine.

Until the spring of 1986 when all Hell literally broke loose.

During the last events of the Upside Down and the earthquakes that almost decimated Hawkins, the Harringtons finally come back to town, horrified to be called in from Indianapolis by the charge nurse at Hawkins General Hospital.

Their relationship does get a little better after nearly losing their only son. They don't talk about it, the lost years of quality time, but Steve has made begrudging peace with it and is happy to have them around now for family dinners and the holidays.

They are even fairly good about his relationship with Eddie once he finally comes out. Richard takes a little longer to warm up to the idea, but Darleen seems determined not to lose Steve again.

And things are fine for awhile, the four of them have found an equilibrium amongst each other. Richard busies himself with offering to help with repairs around their house as needed, the leaky sink in their guest bath or the backdoor that was never hung correctly. While Darleen is always quick to bring over a new recipe for them all to try at the next family dinner.

They don't talk about the fact that this is the most home cooking Steve has ever experienced in his 30 years of life or that he didn't know his dad even owned a screwdriver.

But it's fine.

They manage.

It's only after the adoption of their daughter that Steve begins to notice the changes in his parents in a way that makes his chest feel tight.

"I just, I don't get it," Steve says quietly to Eddie one summer day. Richard and Darleen are out in the yard with Abigail, playing in the sun. Abigail shakes a flower from the garden in Richard's face while he pretends to sneeze exaggeratedly, making Abigail break into peals of laughter.

Eddie frowns at Steve, watching as he crosses his arms tightly around himself.

"There has to be something going on, it doesn't make any sense how they're being with her," Steve bites out eventually. He lifts a trembling hand to his hair and tugs harshly at the roots.

"Okay woah woah," Eddie says slowly as he stops forward and gently coaxes Steve's hands away from his hair, "Stevie, sweetheart, I don't understand".

Eddie watches as Steve's gaze travels out the window once more to see Darleen lift their giggling baby girl above her head before lowering Abigail to pepper kisses all over her cheeks. Eddie smiles at the sight but it quickly vanishes as he looks back at Steve who is looking longingly at his mother.

"Because," Steve says, his voice catches on the growing lump in his throat, "if they were always capable of this, of being there, then why couldn't they do that for me?"

[munsonsmixtapes]

Can I Ask You a Question?

Eddie Munson x reader

You invite Eddie to hang out and he has a very important question for you

based on this ask

The door to your bedroom opens and as soon as you’re about to turn to see who it is, you feel the bed dip beside you, Eddie now lying on his stomach in the same position you are, feet up and everything. He’s kicking his legs back and forth as he takes the magazine you’re reading from you. He notices that you’re doing one of those quizzes to see who your perfect boyfriend would be and decides that he wants to be yours.

He’s felt this way for a while now but lying here with you as he looks into your eyes, he’s sure. He just doesn’t know how to get the words to come out. He’s not a shy guy so he doesn’t know why he can’t just ask. 

He sets the magazine down on the bed and begins to spin one of his rings around his finger as a way to take away some of that anxiety and it does help, but only for a little bit. You can sense his unease and the two of you sit up before you pull Eddie’s hands into your lap. 

The weight on his shoulder instantly lessens as you hold his hands, that soft smile making its way upon your lips that he’s come to adore. Suddenly, everything feels so easy. Because it is. You make him feel like he can do anything, like the sky is the limit. You’ve shown him that he’s no longer Eddie “the freak” Munson and that no one’s opinion about him matters but his own. 

He loves hanging out with you as friends, but being your boyfriend would be that much better. He wants to kiss you and hold you and tell you how much you mean to him in a romantic sense. He wants to be able to compliment you without having to subtly flirt, to just tell you how pretty he thinks you are whenever you want.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks before nibbling on his bottom lip. His heart is hammering in his chest as he takes a deep breath, the anticipation of your answer getting to him. He knows that there’s very much a chance of getting rejected and that terrifies him. He doesn’t want his feelings to ruin what the two of you have. 

“Of course you can,” you let out a chuckle as you reach forward, one of your hands threading through his hair, giving his scalp a scratch the way you know he likes. His eyes flutter closed at the feeling, but he quickly shakes his head, hating how quickly he’s able to lose focus. 

“I-I was wondering if…” he takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the way you’re playing with his hair and not how fast his heart is beating. 

You stay quiet, waiting for him to say what he needs to. You’re perfectly fine with being patient as you know how hard it can be for him to voice his feelings. You watch him breathe deeply and then he shakes his head, trying to get back on track. 

“I was wondering if I could be your boyfriend.” His warm honey eyes bore into yours, progressively softening as the seconds pass and for a moment, you swear you can see hearts forming in them. 

The room goes silent as soon as the words leave his mouth. You aren’t sure what you were expecting Eddie to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. But can’t help but smile as you give his hand a squeeze, a light laugh passing through your lips. 

“I’d love for you to be my boyfriend, Eddie,” you tell him as a grin spreads out over your face and his quickly matches yours as he pushes you so your back is flat to the bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He does it over and over until they all melt into one kiss as his lips slot between yours. 

It quickly becomes a mess of teeth clinking together because neither of you can stop smiling, laughs tumbling from your lips as you try to pour your feelings out for each other between kisses, your fingers slotting through his as you eventually figure it out. The two of you fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces. 

Eddie pulls away when you’re both breathless, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping along it as you lean into his touch. You lie for a moment and you don’t even have to ask if Eddie’s thinking because you can see the gears turning. But before you can bring it up, he speaks. 

“I think I love you,” he says, his thumb still moving back and forth across your cheek. The words are so confident and matter of fact that you just know that he means the words and isn’t just saying them because he’s caught up in the moment. Every word that comes out of Eddie’s mouth has a purpose and he nevers says anything he doesn’t mean. 

“I think I love you too,” you reply and Eddie goes in for one of many more kisses of the night before the two of you cuddle up for the very first time as a couple.