#eddie is a reebok man

[steddilly]

If you’re about to tell me Steve isn’t a shoe guy, you’re lying. That boy has enough pairs of Nikes to coordinate them with his outfit of the day. He would definitely buy shoes for someone he loves, but not Nike because he’s considerate, he’d buy them whatever they like.

Steve loves his Nikes, Eddie has his beloved pair of ratty Reeboks, and Billy is a Converse boy through and through.

[paperbackribs]

tags: steddie, nsfw, the homoeroticism of knowing you could treat them better

🥵🍆💦

"Okay," Robin smirks at Eddie as she pops the open button on the microwave in Steve’s kitchen, "But you understand how pathetically gay you sound right now, yes?" She pulls out a fragrant paper bag of popcorn; she says that she likes to have an extra bag before retiring after one of their movie nights.

Eddie scowls, forgetting that Steve's in the next room as he becomes revved up over a pet peeve that is less pet and more a wild animal, "It's not gay to appreciate a work of art." He gestures wildly, the lights above catch on his heavy silver rings, "It's not gay to understand that a sweet, beautiful boy is tragically unloved."

Robin snorts, pulling open the edges of the paper bag, releasing a plume of buttery steam, "No, pretty sure that's pretty gay. Next thing I know you'll declare 'no homo' while sucking his dick."

"I'd suck his dick better than Brittany or Betta or Betsy or whatever her name was," Eddie declares, sore at the memory of Steve's broken brow as he'd explained that his latest date had ridden his face and then gave him a pat on his shoulder, explaining that it was a nice time but not to expect a callback.

What an idiot, Eddie fumes to himself, neglecting to notice the shifting shadows in the hallway behind him; who doesn't enjoy a man who vehemently and vocally declares his love for going down on his partners? Eddie would kill for a partner willing to suck him dry.

Eddie may have blamed the deficiency on the female of the species, but Steve had allowed Eddie in the inner sanctum a few months ago: letting him know that it wasn’t only Robin and Eddie who were vehement friends of Dorothy, even if it was only Steve who enjoyed the full spectrum of the rainbow. And while B-whatever-her-name-was may be the source of Eddie’s ire right now, he knows that Steve has had likewise lousy luck with men whenever they’d ventured for their weekend nights out to Indy.

Each and every time Eddie had to endure Steve’s sad face a week or two later as he’d admitted that he thought his night’s partner may be up for more than just a brief bit of fun. And each and every time he’s been left dumbfounded because—

Eddie pulls at his hair, trying to work it out because—

Well. He can only imagine that every single person that’s walked away from Steve’s beautiful lips couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a fucking canon with the intelligence left over in their little pea brains. Because Steve Harrington is a goddamn catch and every one of them has let him escape their grasp.

Eddie’s too busy scowling down at his Reeboks to see Robin look over his shoulder and softly laugh. She scoops a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she swiftly leaves the kitchen, calling out, “I’m claiming the spare bedroom tonight—the one at the far end—see ya.”

Eddie looks up at the last minute, wondering at her sudden exit.

The air shifts again but Eddie doesn’t realise it until Steve’s right behind him. "Her name was Bella," Seve says in a low caress, close enough that his warm breath rustles Eddie's loose curls.

He stops, frozen, the touch of Steve's words making Eddie ache for something that he's wanted for such a very long time even as he’s unwilling to allow himself to think that Steve could mean anything by leaning in so close. But he can’t help but shiver, a tiny movement that brings his lips against Steve's sharp jaw, nearly stuttering, "Who?"

Strong arms wrap around him, bringing the broad planes of Steve’s chest against Eddie’s back, blunt fingers coming up to grip his jaw, directing Eddie’s lips to just under Steve’s.

Eddie freezes again in desperation, every single fantasy converging at once to break his brain and body while he tries to understand that the arms, hands and fingers wrapped around him are not an invention of a daydream.

"I’m saying,” Steve says patiently, eyeing Eddie with a dark gaze over his firm grip, "That I want you. Not Brittany or Betta or Betsy."

Eddie swallows around the knot in his throat.

"Just you," Steve repeats, a steady weight holding down his words that has Eddie’s gaze flying up to meet the hard pressure of hazel eyes bearing down on him. A force that has Eddie’s heart knocking heavily against his ribs, his breath shuddering against his frame, pressing taut and bullying against the thin of Eddie’s skin as he meets Steve’s expectant gaze.

And suddenly Eddie is angry.

Furious.

He’s had to endure weeks and months of listening to Steve be sad. Listening to Steve tell of glum exploits where women and men haven’t appreciated his freely-given love. Where it hadn’t mattered how quickly and devotedly Steve would put himself forward, that his partner would pat him on the back and distance him or herself after.

Eddie is furious and he glares at Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, so close to his own and suddenly wide at the clear fury in Eddie’s eyes. Steve stumbles back, “What…” But Eddie lowers himself decisively, knees falling to the ground with a clear thump and thighs spreading as he knows with a deep conviction that he’s finally interpreting Steve’s actions correctly.

He looks up with dark eyes and presses into the tentative hand that falls against Eddie’s nape; Steve’s brows pull together, doubt drawing at them, “Eddie…”

Eddie glares up at Steve with all the strength of emotion running through him like the swift currents of a river. “No Steve, that’s it. That’s fucking it.”

He determinedly wraps his fingers around the zipper of Steve’s Levi’s and, as Steve chokes out his name again, Eddie glares up at him, daring Steve to take his prize away. “No, I’m done. You’ve given me permission now. You’ve given me a sliver of hope, and you’re not fucking taking it away.”

Eddie swiftly draws down the zipper, pulling down denim and soft cotton until Steve’s already hard cock bobs in front of him and he reaches forward quickly, hand already at its base and mouth open as he’s about to swallow him down but Steve’s hand buries itself in Eddie’s curls, gripping him tight.

“Do you want me?” Steve breathes and Eddie somehow finds it in himself to glower deeper, scowling up at Steve while refusing to speak. Inching forward until the tip of Steve’s cock hovers over Eddie’s open mouth. Steve curses and a heavy pearl of fluid drops from the tip to Eddie’s outstretched tongue. Eyes closing in contentment, he hears Steve choke as Eddie almost hums around the welcome flavour.

“Right,” Steve rasps roughly before pushing forward to rest against Eddie’s lips, he traces the heavy beads from his weeping slit against the petals of his mouth, breath running ragged before pressing further.

Eddie gasps, stretching his lips wide and pushing in and forward to embrace the cock intruding his mouth. His lashes flutter as he finally has the heavy weight of Steve’s cock resting on his tongue, stretching his mouth obscenely open before peering up to check where Steve’s at.

He needn’t have worried because Steve’s own mouth is hanging open with eyes darkly trained on Eddie. “So fucking pretty,” Steve gasps, gripping Eddie’s head to pull him closer. Choking Eddie as he moans, “Yes, fucking, yes, baby. Take it.” And Eddie does. Gratefully. Happily. Fucking swallows and devours and pistons back and forward until the bitter musk dripping from Steve’s dick is greedily consumed, taken within.

Steve cries out, throbbing powerfully and pouring into Eddie. Spilling and overflowing, fucking against his face until beads flood and stream out of his mouth. Eddie lets out a long, guttural and broken sound, grateful for the blessing that Steve fills him with.

He’s so consumed with the feel of Steve in him, surrounding him, that he barely registers the hardness in his own black denim until Steve drops to his knees too, meeting Eddie face to face before falling forward, fingers working his zipper open and mouth swallowing him whole.

Eddie gasps at the sudden sensation of the hot welcoming cavern of Steve’s mouth. He bucks, lightning shooting up his spine and overwhelmed at the attention as he thrusts once, twice and another before shuddering as he releases into Steve’s warm embrace.

Gasping, Eddie’s head falls forward to stare down at Steve in wonderment. In clear awe as he stares down at the beautiful boy in his lap. Mind blissed but still a niggle worries at the back of his mind, enough to have his hand reaching forward to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek and bringing him up to meet Eddie.

“Sweetheart,” the endearment drops from Eddie’s mouth without his permission.

Steve’s lips tug up, spreading in a grin and widening his eyes, “You want me, don’t you?” He asks, almost breathless.

“Yes. Fucking yes.” Eddie has nothing but honesty to his name at this point.

Steve smiles. Smug and fucking so proud of himself. He leans forward, “Then take me,” he whispers.

And Eddie does.

❤️ More steddie here

[fuckmymunson]

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[munson-blurbs]

Hey can I do one of the spirit Halloween requests. Sour Patch Kids/Butterfinger. And can it be with Eddie please. Can include smut if that's OK. Thank you 😊

Enemies-to-Lovers/Shy!Reader/Eddie Munson

(+ 3 other anon requests)

I couldn't figure out a way to make it smutty without it seeming forced, but there are definitely some raunchy elements. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Eddie is mean to Reader, allusion to masturbation (18+ only, minors DNI), Reader wears a skirt

WC: 1.2k

Divider credit to @saradika

“Absolutely not.” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, a sneer cursing his lips. 

“Come on, man!” Mike grumbles, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “I told Nancy I’d help her out.”

Eddie scoffs, turning away from you and your best friend’s younger brother. “Yeah, well, I didn’t promise shit,” he retorts. “We don’t need anymore players, and we definitely don’t need her.”

Your lower lip quivers, and you bite it to stop from crying. “I, um, i-it’s okay, Mike,” you hurriedly reassure him. “I’ll tell Nancy you tried.” You turn around and leave the drama room, tears blurring your vision. 

“What the hell is your problem?” Mike yells loud enough that you can hear him halfway down the hallway, despite the pounding in your ears. “Nancy said she’s really into DnD. She could, I dunno, be our sub when Lucas has a game or something.”

“Am I speaking a different language? No. N-O. Not happening.”

Gareth cocks a bemused brow. “Are you still pissed off about—”

“SHUT UP!” Eddie’s bellow reverberates around the tiny room. “Look, are we gonna play or not?”

“I gotta go make sure she’s okay before Nancy kicks my ass,” Mike huffs, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Thanks for nothing,” he spits at Eddie.

No one says anything for a moment; the Hellfire Club is eerily silent. Finally, Jeff speaks up. “That was pretty harsh, Ed.”

“That was harsh?!” Eddie guffaws and clenches his jaw. “Me telling her she can’t join Hellfire is harsh, but she can talk shit about me to her friends, and that’s totally fine? Cool, got it.” He shakes his head at the memory. Just a few weeks ago, he’d been walking to your locker to ask you out, only to overhear you telling Nancy that you wish he would disappear and leave you alone.

“Why do you even care so much?” Lucas asks, now thoroughly invested in the drama.

“Because he loves her,” Gareth pipes up, “and she thinks he’s an obnoxious prick, which is accurate.” He’s unfazed by Eddie’s glare, having been on the receiving end of his anger many a time. “Dude, you embarrassed the shit outta her in history! Why would she be nice to you?”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Eddie insists at the same time Gareth says, “As soon as she walked into class, he jumped on his desk and shouted, ‘there’s the prettiest girl in Hawkins!’”

All of the guys let out a collective groan. “You can’t do that with a shy girl!” Lucas groans. If Eddie wasn’t six inches taller than him, he’d smack him upside the head. “Max would kick my ass if I did that to her.”

“She probably thought you were making fun of her,” Dustin points out, and Eddie’s face falls when everyone else nods in agreement. “Have you tried, like, talking to her and not at her?”

“No,” Eddie admits, scuffing the toe of his Reeboks on the tile floor. “Shit, I gotta fix this–I’ll be right back.”

You’re nearly at the double doors of Hawkins High’s entrance when you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and muster up all of your courage, but your words still rush out too quickly. “I’m gonna tell Nancy that Hellfire wasn’t my scene. You’re in the clear, okay? Just…go away.”

But he doesn’t go away; he comes closer. The anger that previously flamed behind his eyes is extinguished, replaced by concern. “Can we talk?” he softly asks. “We can go in my van so it’s more private. Please.”

“Fine.” The desperation in his tone convinces you to give in. You follow him to the van, offering him the smallest smile when he opens the door and motions for you to go inside. Pushing aside a stray guitar pick, you take a seat on the carpeted floor. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, twisting his rings around his fingers nervously. “I, um, I’m sorry. For, y’know, the whole thing in history class.”

You suck your lip between your teeth before responding. “S’okay,” you mumble. You really want to tell him off so he knows how hurt you were by his teasing, but you can’t bring yourself to say the words.

“No, it’s not. I…I should’ve told you when it was just the two of us,” he counters, drawing a confused look from you. “What?”

“Told me what?”

“That I think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins.” He offers his own puzzled expression when you scramble to your knees and lean for the door handle. “Wait! Where’re you going?”

There’s a lump in your throat that you force yourself to swallow before you can speak. “This is obviously a big joke to you, Eddie. ‘Ha ha, let’s point out how ugly the nerdy girl is!’” 

“No. No.” Eddie’s voice is firm but kind. “It wasn’t a joke. I really think you’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins. And I like you. A lot,” he adds with a nervous laugh. “That whole, uh, performance was my way of flirting.”

You’re still unconvinced, cocking a brow in disbelief, so he continues. “How about this: since I embarrassed you, I’ll tell you an embarrassing secret. And if I’m lying about liking you, you can tell everybody.”

You relent for the second time today. “O-Okay. That’s fair.”

“All right.” Eddie rubs his palms on his jeans, slick with anxious perspiration. “So, remember that time that I got to class, all…sweaty and out of breath and stuff?”

You nod. “Mhm.” He’d told Mrs. Click that he’d been in gym class, but you knew he’d just come from lunch like you had. You’d figured he’d had a deal out in the woods and ran back to school. 

“Well, um,” he looks down at the carpet, “it was because I saw you in the cafeteria wearing this cute little skirt, and I had to…take care of myself. In the boys’ room.” He presses his palms to his eyes and says, mostly to himself, “No fuckin’ way did I just admit that.”

You’re shell-shocked. Like joining Hellfire, the skirt in question was another one of Nancy’s ideas to ease you out of your comfort zone. You had no idea he’d even noticed. “Y-You liked it?” you ask dumbly. 

“Ohhhh, yeah,” Eddie chuckles. “I gotta stop thinkin’ about it before…” His eyes drop to the zipper of his jeans, a small tent already visible against the seam, and he hurries to switch subjects. “D’you still wanna play DnD with us? I promise I’m usually less of a dick. And a perv.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “I have my doubts about that last part,” you tease, only half-joking, “but, yeah. I would love to play with you guys.”

“Awesome.” Eddie’s face lights up. “And maybe after, you and I can grab something to eat? Maybe catch a movie or somethin’?”

Before you can chicken out, you kiss his cheek. “It’s a date.”

The two of you walk back into the school, Eddie’s hand on the small of your back. “Oh, um, one more thing?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you change into that skirt?”

--

[localemofreak]

Got That Kinda Look To Make Me Freak.

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Based on the song:

Emo Boy - Ayesha Erotica

—————————————

‼️Warnings‼️: use of y/n, slight smut ahead, also kinda fluffy, Eddie is a slightly awkward mf, etc. (if I forgot anything please tell me!)

—————————————

It was a nice Saturday day- and you had decided to head off to the mall, thinking it would be nice to walk around and shop at some of your favorite stores.

As you walked around the mall- that’s when you saw him.

You watched this stranger from a slight distance- he was in a cute little candle shop (wayne probably forced him to get a candle- nasty ass 💀) but he stood out like a sore thumb in there as he stood by the front window of the store.

You watched as he just picked random candles up, sniffing them before quickly placing them back down.

He had long brown wavy hair, he was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt, ripped black jeans, a leather jacket with a denim vest on top of it, the denim vest had a bunch of different pins and patches- honestly bad ass, and he also had some white Reebok's on.

You couldn't forget the million accessories on him, which you noticed first when he grabbed a candle- those rings on his fingers, they looked so cool- they definitely weren't normal rings you could buy in a Walmart.

But one thing that you knew for sure- man, was he hot..

After a moment of standing there, gawking at the random young man, you decided to walk into the candle shop while also starting a small argument with yourself in your head.

You just glanced around, looking at different candles before you finally grew some balls to head over to where the mystery metalhead was standing, looking confused as fuck while scanning through different candles.

"Need some help?-" you offered with a small giggle, he just turned his head- his eyes widened slightly as he saw you, it was obvious he was little taken away by you.

"Oh, uh, yeah- I just, don't know which one is the best.." he said, stumbling around with his words while holding a candle in his hand- you just giggled at his slight awkwardness, it was cute.

"Well- if you don't want your room to smell all girly and like flowers I suggest not the one in your hand." You giggled, pointing to the 'rose and lavender' candle he was holding in his hand.

He just looked down at the candle for a second and quickly put it back, his cheeks tinted pink from embarrassment.

"Oh shit- sorry.." he mumbled, giving a slight awkward chuckle as you shook your head and giggled a little bit more, deciding to pick up a candle that smelt like apple pie.

"No need to apologize- here, this one looks like it would fit you." You said, handing him the candle with a small smile on your face.

He picked his head up to reveal his brown doe eyes and the blush on his cheeks.

Oh god he was so dreamy.

"thanks.." he said, slowly taking the candle from you- his fingers also brushing against yours which caused a slight shiver to run down your spine.

"I'm y/n." You said- you decided to introduce yourself, thinking it would be nice- he just smiled softly and nodded his head, holding the candle in his hand.

"Eddie. Nice to meet you." He said, offering his hand out to shake- you glanced down at his hands and ring covered fingers for a small moment before shaking his hand.

Even after you shook it, you two just held hands for a good second while looking into each other eyes.

-TIME SKIP-

It felt like so much happened in just the matter of seconds, even though it was hours.

Currently, you were in Eddie's trailer- the candle you gave him that he bought was now lit on his messy bedside table.

And you and him?- you were both laying in his bed, naked, his mouth was attached to yours as he hovered over you and made out with you.

His lips muffled the moans that fell from your lips as he thrusted into you with such ease, and god weren't you enjoying every second of it.

Some crazy shit must have happened at the mall for the rest of your day to end up like this- having sex with the town's local freak in his bed.

He continued to sloppily make out with you, his thrusts sloppily and deep that indicated he was getting closer- and you were too.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your legs wrapped around his waist- his body was covered in sweat but it was hot.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving behind marks as you felt your stomach tighten before you finally released- causing you to let out the most gut wrenching, intense moan into his mouth.

He quickly followed behind you, thrusting faster and deeper until he came inside you- his head fell into your neck as he let out a loud moan, his voice cracking as he let it out but that just made it even hotter.

His sweat covered body collapsed on top of you as you and him just laid there, collecting your thoughts real quick- you swore you were seeing stars the second you opened your eyes.

Finally, he slowly pulled out of you and slowly got up, grabbing a random piece of clothing off his messy bedroom floor to clean you up with before he collapsed next to you, pulling the covers over you and him.

His bangs were attached to his forehead thanks to the sweat and his tattoos glistened slightly- you just slowly turned your numb body to lay against his chest, his arm wrapping around you.

"That candle smells nice." He mumbled, a tired chuckle escaping his lips as you just playfully rolled your eyes and dug your head into the crook of his neck to hide your giggle.

[piratefishmama]

Fake It Till You Make It | Part 8

"Oh Steven..."

The view of Eddie was obstructed pretty quickly when Steve manoeuvred him behind him, turning fully to face his dad using his broader body to shield Eddie from view. “He’s—”

“Panicking. He’s panicking. I have eyes Steven. Lynda get this poor boy a glass of water would you?” A chair creaking from inside the room told them all his mother had gotten up to do as she was asked, and while that might have caused most to relax, Steve still stood his ground. A human blockade. “It’s okay son, you’re going to have to move eventually it might as well be now, he’s safe.”

“Is he?” Eddie rested his forehead against the centre of Steve’s shoulders, right at the base of his neck, just… rested there, Steve wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, it’d be okay.

“Well I’m not about to invite my son to send me to hospital, am I?” A wise choice, it seemed like Steve was fully prepared to do just that if necessary. “This house is safe for you both, and it always will be.” John stepped to the side a little, just enough to be able to see around Steve’s shoulder, although Steve was tempted to move into his way again, he’d put himself in the way of a train if it meant protecting someone else, Eddie was certain of it at that point “Eddie… was it?”

He’d overheard while Steve was talking to him. He knew his name. Eddie looked up, basically peeking over Steve’s shoulder. It was awkward, given they were almost the same height, but… he still felt safer there.

“Oh heavens, John step aside, you’re frightening the poor thing to death” And there was Lynda, nudging John aside with a tall glass of water in hand “Eddie, come on out from behind there,” as if ‘there’ wasn’t her damn close to six foot son “it’s okay” he was a grown man, yet he felt like he was seven all over again, hiding behind a couch away from the police who’d come to get his dad.

He’d only hidden because his dad used to tell him that if he was naughty the police would take him away, and he may have… coincidentally… drawn on his bedroom wall, he’d hidden it pretty well but… there were suddenly police bashing down the door!

Just so happened they were there for his father, who’d been doing much naughtier things.

Steve didn’t move, so that left the choice up to him. A choice he had to make, no matter how scary it was. He was there, there was no getting out of the plan now. They’d seen him, he couldn’t make a run for it… or he could but he’d never able to look Steve or Dustin in the face ever again, which left only one real option.

He took a deep breath, placed a hand on Steve’s bicep, and stepped out from behind him. Steve’s hand was very quick to find his, holding him, grounding him, a tether to keep him stable and god it felt nice to have it there, warm, and secure, fingers perfectly slotted between his own. He could only imagine what a pair they looked though.

The King and the Court Jester.

The Jock and the Freak.

Perfect and Completely Imperfect.

He knew what he looked like, how people looked at him, even in clean clothes, even having brushed his hair, he still looked like he’d just rolled out of bed sometimes, and Steve… god… There weren’t words for how perfect Steve looked.

It seemed effortless but Eddie knew Steve must have put in genuine effort. It was attractive how much effort he must have been putting in.

They all looked that perfect though. He truly looked so very out of place. Lynda in her pristine white shirtdress, a belt around her waist giving it shape and John in his expensive pale blue polo and pressed chinos.

There he was, in a hand-me-down red and black flannel, the only pair of jeans he owned that weren’t ripped at the knee (although they were getting there), hands full of silver rings, an old handed down Casio watch, scuffed Reeboks, and the one band Tee he had that wasn’t dirty.

The pickings had been slim he really should have done some laundry. He should have accepted Steve’s offer to help him clean up. They’d have been still doing it!

“Hi… I’m—I’m Eddie… Eddie Munson.” They didn’t know the family name, and it didn’t surprise him either, Wayne wasn’t raised in Hawkins, he’d just settled there after he learned Eddie would be handed to him. Traded his truck for a trailer in a random pick of a town and swapped his long haul journeys for night shifts at the plant and that was that.

They couldn’t have known his family name.

“Oh my…” it wasn’t a disgusted oh my, although her eyes did widen, he felt… seen as she looked him up and down, seemingly sizing him up, and then… she turned to Steve and all his worries seemed to vanish when she, with genuine mischief in her voice, said “he’s a bit out of your league isn’t he, Steven? I know we encourage you to be ambitious but—”

“W-what?!” And that was Steve, flustered in his response “No, I’m—he’s—”

“Sweetheart” oh she sounded so cheeky “he has tattoos” Eddie quickly glanced down at his bare forearms where he’d rolled his sleeves up earlier, bats on display, his tattoos usually a source of judgement, she wasn’t judging him though. “You’re afraid of needles.”

“I am NOT!”

“That’s not what I remember from your last round of shots.”

“I was five.” At least he was the last time they’d gone with him to get his shots done. "I've had plenty of shots since then."

“These fears don’t just vanish, Steven, how do you expect to hold onto this handsome young man if you can’t even handle a little pri—”

“Lynda please.” John interrupted what would have been a stellar takedown with a comical amount of exasperation, the man pinching the bridge of his nose as if staving off an incoming headache. Eddie, against all odds, was smiling, fighting back genuine giggles, the free hand not wrapped within Steve’s lifted to cover his mouth as if to hold them in.

“What? It’s not like it didn’t work.” She handed John the glass she’d been holding, since Eddie no longer seemed to need the water, then took a step closer to Eddie “Eddie, dear… how about you and Steven come into the living room, and we can get to know you a little, how does that sound?” There was no anger in her tone, no disgust hidden in the layers of it, she just… she smiled at him.

Where were these ‘rich assholes’ people kept claiming the Harringtons to be? Because he didn’t see them. He could understand the hesitation to trust, he was still nervous, the fear still licked at his very soul that maybe, just maybe they were biding their time, waiting for the right moment to strike when he couldn’t get out, but… was there any reason to be distrustful?

Had the Harringtons ever been outspoken against his people? Ever? Save for maybe one or two occasions where Steve had called someone queer as an insult back in high school, before he’d obviously grown.

People just assumed.

Those at the bottom just assumed the worst of all of those at the top. Same as most assumed the worst of him, that he was mean, that he was scary. They were just at opposite ends of the social ladder. There had to be some good among the rich, why not the Harringtons?

Why couldn’t they be good? Why not at least give them the opportunity to be good?

“Y-yeah… yeah, that’d uh—that’d be okay I think.” Steve squeezed his hand so gently, another attempt to ground him, to keep him tethered. To keep him calm, and it worked. It helped. Steve was there, Steve would keep him safe. No matter who came at them, Steve would keep him safe, not a King at all.

A loyal Knight, a Paladin, a Defender. He’d probably be safe walking through the fiery pits of hell itself, as long as Steve was there beside him. “You sure you’re okay, Eddie? We can go back to yours, we can just… try another day.” And Steve checked in with him too as his parents returned to the Living room, Lynda pausing at the door to wait for them while her husband continued on.

Steve’s hand warm around his, looking at him with a level of concern nobody had bothered to bestow upon him before.

Not even Wayne, but Wayne was kinda gruff, he showed his love in other ways. Steve barely knew him… he was just, that kind of person apparently.

“Nah, we’re here now and with you here? My very own big, strong knight in shining armour? I’m pretty sure I could brave anything.”

And that bashful little smile of Steve’s whenever someone praised him?

Beautiful.

Beautiful enough to chase any bad feelings away with their tails between their legs. Beautiful enough to give him the boost he needed to pull Steve along by his hand and into that living room with Lynda, beautiful enough to give him the strength to take on the goddamn world.

Or at least the scariest thing he could think of in it at the time, that being… being himself in front of two complete strangers who could ruin his life with zero repercussions aside from their son being angry at them.

So it was a pretty big deal, that smile of his.

The first thing Eddie registered as he entered the main living room though, was that off to the right, there was a magnificent mahogany table, complete with three chairs on either side and one at each end.

Last time he’d seen it, it’d been covered in pizza boxes and alcohol options, its majesty concealed beneath a layer of filth. “Stevie can I—” couldn’t help himself

“Later” Steve was quicker than him though, Dustin had already brought up the table before, it wasn’t hard to guess where Eddie’s mind would go.

Of course he’d shot Dustin down, but Eddie? Maybe… just maybe he’d let Eddie use it. Only once his parents left again though, something told him they’d draw a line at a Dungeons and Dragons campaign, one of the main highlights of the ongoing Satanic Panic, being held in their dining room, whether they used it or not.

“So!" John began as he found his seat once more, waiting only for Steve and Eddie to sit down on the sofa close by, side by side, hand in hand, looking like the least likeliest pair in existence, to begin. "Eddie, tell us a little about yourself, how’d you both meet?”

Straight into the deep end then. "Well..."

Part 10

[fuctacles]

Eddie, begrudgingly: Dustin's older brother is kinda fine :/

I had a craving for best friend's older brother AU so I wrote some but it's not my forte I'm out of ideas so that might be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Edit: jokes on me I guess [Part II] [Part III]

Eddie was about to knock on his freshman friend’s door when there was a loud commotion on the other side and the door opened by itself. A guy, probably around his age, nearly ran into him in his haste to leave the house. He startled, taking Eddie in. And then taking a double take, the way Eddie was used to people doing at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” the guy asked, scrunching his nose and not meeting Eddie’s eyes.

He felt his hackles rise, venom building in his throat and ready to spit. He wasn’t expecting this on a Saturday on his friend’s doorstep, but he guessed this was the kind of town where you just couldn’t wear your battle vest in peace anywhere. His upper lip twitched ready to form a snarl, when suddenly the guy's features softened, a spark of recognition lighting up his eyes.

“Wait. Let me guess. Eddie?”

Eddie faltered, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. He frowned.

“Yeah?”

The guy's face warmed up with a smile, and Eddie was not ready for that kind of emotional rollercoaster this early in the morning.

“Dustin’s stories do not do you justice,” he says for some reason, eyeing him again. Eddie wants to shrivel up and hide. What the fuck was happening. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” he said, stepping to the side to invite him in. “I have to go to work, so you two be good, okay?” he says before waving a cheery goodbye and closing the door, disappearing just as abruptly as he showed up in front of Eddie. The inside of the house suddenly seemed dull.

Another ray of sunshine peeked from the kitchen, toothy grin and hazelnut curls.

“So you’ve met Steve!” Dustin grinned in place of a greeting.

Eddie gawked at him.

“That,” he pointed at the closed door. The sound of a car leaving the curb tickled his ears. “Was Steve?!”

“The adopted brother Steve? The Star Wars fan Steve? The badass older brother Steve?”

“Yes, all that,” Dustin nodded enthusiastically.

“I thought he was, like, 16!” Eddie flailed and it sounded like a petulant whine even to his ears. He winced.

Dustin frowned at him like he was being stupid. Eddie didn’t like that gaze, but unfortunately at this point, he was getting used to it. His younger friend leaned on the kitchen door frame watching Eddie toe off his shoes.

“He’s 19. What gave you that impression?”

Eddie frowned at his scuffed Reeboks. He nudged them with his toe to line up, looking for an answer.

“The adopted part, I think? He’s almost an adult, who adopts that old?”

He knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as he said it. He looked up at Dustin, whose face twisted uncomfortably.

“Shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

Dusting clicked his tongue impatiently, interrupting him.

“It’s fine. This is an unconventional arrangement,” he said in that way when you heard something repeatedly. “I can tell you more, but after we make that character sheet, okay?”

Eddie nodded, eager to abandon his social faux pas. The Henderson’s were an unconventional unit, and that’s what he loved about them, at least from the stories Dustin shared. The guy was a little freak, just like Eddie, so it checked out his family was just as unconventional. So was Eddie’s after all.

The parallels made him warm up inside, the familiar need to protect his younger friends flaring up.

“Deal,” he nodded, following his friend inside the kitchen, where notebooks and DnD manuals already littered the table.

A couple of hours, two coffees and an unsolved argument about the intricacies of multiclassing later, they decided to take a break and Eddie could finally feast his eyes on the family photos on display. He stood in front of the newest one standing front and centre on the mantle. Steve was smiling shyly to the camera while Claudia Henderson had her arms around his shoulders and Dustin was grinning wide from his other side, hair ruffled by the older boy's hand.

“How long he has been living here?”

Dustin’s head popped out of the kitchen where he was rummaging for snacks.

“About a year. Remember the Starcourt fire?”

“Yeah?” Eddie frowned, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question.

“Well, he’s been there and-” the boy frowned, fully stepping into the living room and crossing his arms. “Shit, Mom says I shouldn’t be babbling it around. That it’s Steve's story to tell.”

Eddie hummed, cocking his head.

“Your mom is very smart.”

Dustin unwrapped his arms, clenching his hands together.

“I guess I could tell you I mean who are you gonna tell? You just-”

Eddie raised both his hands, stopping him.

“Dude, he interrupted with all the disapproval his drug dealing nonconformist self could muster. “She’s right and that would be breaking your brother’s trust.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Dustin gulped, looking adequately ashamed at proposing the idea. “You’re right., he nodded.

This lasted about half a second because nobody could stop Henderson from being an egocentric know-it-all and since he was wrong he was now going to overcompensate for it. Of that, Eddie could be sure.

“We can go to his workplace and you could ask him!”

Eddie raised his hands again.

“Hold your horses Henderson, we’re not harassing your brother at work.” The boy was actually pouting, the little shit. “I am not that determined to hear it. I’ll just catch him another time I visit.”

That was the wrong thing to say because he wasn’t planning on being a recurring guest initially. Or maybe it was the right thing to say since Dustin positively beamed at the implication.

Maybe it was because the kid’s presence has been a good influence on him as well.

Also, while the story of Steve’s adoption didn’t seem that interesting before, the idea of a mall fire being somehow involved raised questions that were now itching the back of Eddie’s tongue. He had to ask them at some point.

*

“There’s this guy,” Eddie starts one day during lunch break. 

“Oh-ho,” Gareth murmurs with disdain, the crumbs from his sandwich falling from his lips.

“Not like that,” Eddie glowered at him, slapping against his arm. Even though it was kinda like that. “He’s picking up Henderson after Hellfire today and if we run into him, I want you guys to be civil.”

“We’re always civil,” Jeff frowns at Eddie’s backhanded accusations.

“Yeah, especially when you guys are mooning after Mrs. Wheeler.”

The comment raised a wave of loud protests from his friends.

“I am just saying-”

“You’re just saying that guy is hot and we shouldn’t ogle him?” Gareth, the worst friend he has, raised his eyebrow.

“No, I’m just-”

“You calling dibs, Munson?” John the Traitor, the Backstabber, joined in. Johned in, if you will.

‘No!” Eddie protested, maybe a little too loud. A couple of heads turned but when they saw the ruckus was coming from the freaks table, they quickly lost interest. “He’s the worst. A hunk of jock with stupid hair but!” He rose a finger. “He’s Henderson’s family. And what do we do with family members in Hellfire?”

“Lure in.”

“Lull into a fake sense of security.”

“Cast charm person.”

“Exactly,” he smirked, pointing his finger at each of them in approval. “This case is no different.”

“It feels different,” Gareth murmured under his breath, earning himself another smack on the shoulder.

*

Eddie wrapped up the session and was giving out experience points to his players when a soft knock interrupted his counting. He frowned at the door.

“Speak ‘friend’ and enter!” he hollered to his sheep’s utter glee. He grinned at them.

Dead silence was all the response he got, so he assumed whatever normie was bugging them got discouraged. But then, Henderson was turning around in his seat, yelling at the door.

“It’s from Lord of the Rings! You know this one!”

There was a shuffle on the other side where apparently, Steve came already to pick up his brother.

“Oh! Um… Melon? Was that it?”

“You may enter!” Eddie commanded with a grin straining at his cheeks. Dustin was doing a good job educating his jock brother, apparently. 

The guy pushed the door open, taking in the table full of teenagers. He waved hesitantly.

“You guys finishing up?”

“I’m handing out points, we need just a few minutes,” Eddie waved his hand. “And it’s Mellon.”

Steve frowned.

“That’s what I said.”

“Sure you did,” Eddie cocked his head condescendingly, ignoring the eyes of Corroded Coffin members staring at him. “Now sit and wait,” he gratuitously offered, snapping his fingers and pointing at a nearby bench, like Henderson’s older brother was some kind of dog.

To his surprise, he nodded shortly and obeyed, sitting down and watching him expectantly. Eddie took it as his cue to proceed. He coughed to gather his sheep's attention and went back to his meticulous calculations.

*

“That didn’t look like Charm Person to me,” Gareth hissed as soon as the younger members of Hellfire had left.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Eddie scrunched his eyebrows, throwing him a look while he stuffed his campaign notes into his bag.

“You told us to be nice, but you ordered him around like he was one of the kids,” Jeff pointed out, arms crossing.

“I did not”

“You totally did.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he straightened up.

“What is this? Mutiny? Among my own kin? Ungrateful little herd I had nurtured on my own breast-”

He was interrupted by a cacophony of grossed out noises.

“Spare us the imagery, please.”

Eddie huffed indignantly, closing his bag.

“Then quit yapping. It was a singular lapse of judgement on my part,” he said with finality, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Without looking back, he walked off, hand raised in a goodbye, “Toodles, bitches.”

And he was gone.

Gareth sighed.

“Man, I love Eddie, but sometimes…” John cut himself off, shaking his head. 

“Yeah.”

*

Eddie’s been on the fence about it for some time now. But the time was ticking and he did say more than once that ‘86 was gonna be his year, so maybe it was time to pocket his ego and make some calls.

Some very, very humiliating calls.

Sighing deeply he imagined himself going to the woods and digging up a deep hole. There he imaginary buried his pride, made a fancy map to find it later, hopefully in time for his graduation, and finally dragged himself back home and in front of his phone. Next to it, he tacked on a list of numbers of all his newest sheepies in case of emergencies. Like Hellfire scheduling.

He sighed once more, slumping dramatically before dialling the first of the numbers. As he listened to the dial tone, he squared his shoulders, decided a more confident pose was in order. He was now a man of action, taking his fate in his own hands. His pride was buried deeply in the darkest corners of the forest and only a courageous-

“Har- Henderson residence, this is Steve speaking.”

Eddie’s mind went blank, completely thrown off. Who was he calling again? What for?

“Hello?”

“Is this how you pick up the phone? Did I get the wrong house? Is this the British Queen?”

“... Eddie? Is that you?”

Busted.

“What gave me away?”

“Ah, only the dramatic nonsensical ramblings.” Steve answered, amusement in his voice. 

“Thank you, I pride myself in those.” No pride! Pride is buried deep in the putrid soil of a forgotten battlefield! “But I’m here for the superior Henderson, please and thank you.” Ah yes, the Charm Person again. Somebody could think Eddie buried his Charisma along with the pride.

“Sorry, Claudia is at work right now.”

Eddie scrunched his nose, confused, the gleeful tilt to the voice in his ear irking him. Then he remembered the mom. A staple in most households.

“Har, har, Steven. The smart one.”

“Please never call him that to his face,” the man said with a resigned sigh.

“There wouldn’t be enough space in the room for both our egos if I did.”

Steve laughed then, softly and genuinely, before calling out for his younger brother.

After a loud rattle, Dustin’s lispy voice finally reached Eddie’s trailer.

“What's up?”  

The man braced himself for what he was about to request.

“I need your help with an assignment.”

*

The door opened before he could even knock. Again.

“I thought I told you not to inflate his ego.”

“No, you told me not to call him smart. It is merely a by-product of my desperate attempts at graduating,” Eddie shrugged matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t respond to the likes of you.” He punctuated his words by seizing the guy up before brushing past him inside the Henderson’s house.

“The likes of- Excuse me?!”

Eddie was skipping towards Dustin’s room.

“Hey big guy I’m here for my tutoring!” he announced himself, standing in the open door to his friend’s room, who quickly beckons him inside. Steve’s heavy steps follow and soon he’s the one standing in the door frame, arms crossed, while Eddie bounces on Dustin’s bed.

“What do you mean the likes of me?” he asks, almost pouting. 

“Mainstream,” offered Dustin, shuffling through stuff on his desk.

“Jocks,” added Eddie, still bouncing with glee, hair following up and down.

“Normies.”

“Pop listeners.”

“Mom friends.”

“Conformists.”

“Okay, I get it!” Steve threw his hands in the air, stopping the list that probably wouldn’t come to an end otherwise. “You’re the cool guys, have fun having your cool stuff,” he huffed angrily, grabbing the doorknob. Before he closed the door he threw one seething glance at Dustin. “Do not. Ask me for snacks,” he hissed before slamming the door shut.

Eddie flipped back on the bed, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Man, your brother is so easy to rile up,” he chuckled gleefully.

“Right?! He’s so bitchy,” Dusting turned around towards him, signature smile in place. Eddie hollered.

“He is!”

Alas, a slap of palms interrupted his delightful trashing around.

“I believe we have some physics to cover?”

Eddie groaned. Right. He didn’t come here to bother the older Henderson. Booo.

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

[thefreakandthehair]

@steddiemas day 1: deck the halls | wc: 1.2k | rated: m

Robin Buckley loves Christmas.

Like, really loves Christmas. If she could convince Steve to put the tree up in their little shitbox apartment the day after Halloween, she would. In fact, she'd tried last year but Steve reminded her that a live tree would be a needleless fire hazard by Christmas Day and she refuses to entertain the idea of a fake tree.

Absolutely not. Live tree or bust.

And this is how Steve ends up at the Christmas Tree Farm the day after Thanksgiving, dragged around with a fond if not tired smile as she checks tree after tree, pulling their branches, checking their strength and health.

"It has to be a Blue Spruce to hold those heavy ornaments from my parents, and none of these are Blue Spruces!" She bemoans, whipping her head around to glare at Steve. "Are you even helping?"

He rolls his eyes and sips the hot chocolate that warms him from the inside. "I'm here as moral support and to cut the thing down when you find it." Steve wiggles the little saw he'd been handed and nods her on.

Robin scoffs and marches back towards him. "I think there are some Blue Spruces in the lot towards the back."

Without a question, he turns on his heel and follows her. This isn't their first Christmas Tree Hunt so he knows the drill. No matter how much he actually hates Blue Spruces because the needles are sharp and stick him when they hang the lights, he'll never say a word. Not when it makes his best friend this happy.

Eventually, they make the trek through muddy grass and Robin does, in fact, find a Blue Spruce that makes her eyes light up in the hidden away lot.

"This is it," she beams. "This is the one."

"Perfect, here, hold this--" Steve hands her his mug and starts to lean down, only for the tree to start shaking.

A man in ripped jeans and Reeboks lies beneath the tree, his own saw just beginning to make its mark in the stump of the spiky, healthy Spruce.

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing? This is our tree." Robin says, reaching through branches to hold it steady. "We were just about to cut it down, back off."

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's not that he won't defend Robin's honor and get into a fight in a Christmas Tree Farm for her, he'd just really rather not.

The mystery man pokes his head out from under the tree with furrowed brows and two needles sticking out from the top of his head, dirt on his denim jacket that protects what looks like a red and black flannel. Steve's definitely been watching way too many Hallmark movies with Robin lately because holy shit, he's cute.

"Listen, my best friend wants this tree, and I don't even wanna be under here but if she doesn't get this Blue Whatever-The-Fuck, someone's halls are getting decked and it'll probably be mine. So, sorry." He shrugs and returns to his place under the tree. 

Robin looks at Steve, bewildered and frazzled simultaneously. Do something, she mouths. 

Like what? He mouths back, scrunching his face and contorting his mouth. 

She widens her eyes and jerks her head to the side, desperate. 

He should’ve known Robin would be responsible for his demise. 

“C’mon, man, we’ve been here for two hours looking for a tree.” Steve gets no response, just a few grunts that shouldn’t go straight to his crotch but what can he say? It’s been awhile.

He steps forward and lies down beneath the tree with the Tree Thief. “Is she here with you? Your best friend who seems as fucking rabid as mine is here about these trees?” 

Steve watches as the man focuses on the tree stump, rhythmic back and forth motions of the saw moving his torso along the ground with his tongue poking out between his lips. “Maybe I can talk to her? Or send Robin? She’s… convincing?” 

“Chrissy wants this one, dude. Hate to break it to you.” 

“Ah, okay. Robin and Chrissy. Well, I’m Steve, and you’re…?” 

The sawing stops as he catches his breath. “Eddie. I’m Eddie. And unless you’re gonna help under here, you might wanna move. I don’t wanna drop this on you.” 

Steve pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and takes a chance. Reaching out, he places one hand on top of Eddie’s. “Can I make you a deal?” 

Eddie startles, eyes flickering back and forth from the space where their hands touch on the rough bark of the tree up to Steve’s gaze. 

“Depends on the deal, I suppose.” Maybe Steve imagines the flush to his cheeks and the playful grin that blossoms across his lips. All he knows about Eddie is that his best friend’s name is Chrissy and that he has the most beautiful brown eyes Steve’s maybe ever seen. 

Not maybe. Definitely. 

“Uh,” he shakes his head, trying to pull himself out of whatever Christmas romcom he thinks he’s living in. “What if we help you and Chrissy find another tree and I help you cut it down? I’ll even carry it to the car for you.” 

“What are you, some sort of lumberjack?”

“Nope,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, joking as he leans closer, like an idiot. “Just desperate not to get my halls decked.” It earns him a genuine smile and surprised laugh punched from Eddie’s lungs. 

“Alright,” he taps the saw on the trunk and smirks over at Steve, mere inches apart beneath a Christmas tree. Close enough for the faint scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and Old Spice cologne to permeate the strength of the resinous spruce. “You help us find another tree, lug it to the car, and then meet me for coffee after? Seems like the least you can do, all things considered.” 

Trading numbers with the guy he met while bargaining for Robin’s dream Christmas tree isn’t the weirdest moment of his life, but it’s certainly on the shortlist. As is plucking rogue needles out of his hair when they come up from beneath the tree.

He ends up lugging two Blue Spruces to the parking lot an hour later in two trips— Robin chatting with Chrissy in front of them and Eddie at his side, gravitating closer and closer until their arms nearly touch. 

“You know, you didn’t actually have to do this,” Eddie says, moving away from Steve and to the other side of Chrissy's sedan to help tie the tree to the roof. “You’re not like, actually obligated or whatever.” 

Steve finishes tying his end of the knot and looks across at Eddie, finding him standing with hopeful eyes and a piece of hair drawn in front of his face. 

“Oh, I know.” He smiles and shrugs. “But I want to. Especially the coffee-with-you-after part.” 

“Not until we get this thing up and decked, Munson!��� Chrissy pops up next to Eddie at the same time Robin appears next to Steve, both of them practically bouncing on their heels and grinning ear to ear. 

Robin nudges Steve in the side and he looks down to see her phone held out, Chrissy’s number typed into her contacts with a tiny pink heart to it. He gives her a subtle, excited thumbs up from below Eddie and Chrissy’s view beneath the car. 

Eddie slings an arm across Chrissy’s shoulders and ruffles her hair before she fixes her ponytail, indignant. 

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’ll uh, I’ll text you?” 

Eddie nods and turns himself and Chrissy towards the front of the car. As he gets in the passenger seat, he looks back at Steve with a mischievous wink most likely emboldened by Steve’s brash flirtation. 

“The sooner, the better.”

[munsonmuses]

Meeting in the Middle

Part Two Here

Synopsis: with the awkwardness split and the tension broken, you and Eddie are now sprinting to meet in the middle

Themes: healing wounds, coming to terms, falling back in love, friends to lovers to enemies and back to lovers

Warnings: mild drug usage, crying, and smut! The once in the blue moon happened!!! Addie wrote smut!!

Word count: 3.1k

Eddie’s end of the call was a bit frantic, consisting of him stubbing out a cigarette that was freshly lit, shoving past Gareth who was stoned as all hell beside him, and fumbling to get his reeboks back on as he hummed nervously. Gareth sitting up as he watched Eddie’s frantic rushing around the room as he quirked a brow, his girlfriend Daphne sprawled across his lap as he made sure not to knock her off of his lap.

“Dude…what’re you doing?” He asked softly as he carefully let his head pull to the side, it suddenly feeling too heavy after a few decent puffs from the rickety and well stained bong on the ground. Eddie panting lightly as he fixed his hair back into a low bun. “Josie needs me.” He insisted as Gareth frowned lightly. “Does she really? You’ve spent all this time calling her a succubus and treat each other like shit.” He reminded as Eddie scoffed, searching his dresser and drawers for his keys as he muttered under his breath. “Succubi are sexy, that’s why I call her that. Everyone calls her Josie because she liked Josie and the Pussycats as a kid. So I’ve never fucking hated her man. Not ever. I’ve loved her since before I knew what that shit was and I’m not gonna fuck up again.” He snapped back as he found his keys.

“When her dad died she begged for me and I was too scared. I ran from her. I ran from her when she needed me so fucking badly. I’m tired of running okay.” He insisted softly as he shuddered harshly. “I’m tired of running because I am afraid of having a heart. Because I am afraid of having feelings. I have spent so long being terrified of having feelings, that I didn’t even realize what I was missing till I saw her slip through my fingers.” He asserted before storming out, passing Wayne on the way out and hopping into the van. Speeding his way to family video, traffic laws be damned.

He swung into the parking lot, haphazardly throwing the car into park and walking to the glass doors of Family Video. Going to pull the door open before feeling the pull of the lock, growling in frustration as he knocked on the glass with his keys. “Harrington?! Buckley?! Let me in come on!” He shouted as he watched Robin frantically run to the door, struggling to get it open.

“I uh, shit, I showed her the ho-horse movie?! You know the the the the one that you told me too? And she uh, fuck! She started crying and it hasn’t stopped.” Robin spoke frantically as she led him to the back, Eddie nearly shattering at the sight of you.

You were curled up on the couch, sobbing desperately as Sara tried to soothe you by running her nails over your scalp. Humming softly as your wails echoed. Steve backed into a corner as he nervously chewed on the sides of his thumbs. Gesturing towards your sobbing self as Eddie made his way over. Shaking out his arms and shoulders as he crouched in front of you.

“Hey there…why so sad, a succubus like yourself shouldn’t be so sad, you’ve got a lot goin’ for you…” he tried as you turned to look at him, droplets of salty sadness clinging to your lashes as he gently wiped the tears. Looking back at the three as he hummed. “I’m gonna take her home okay? You guys uh…close up, do what you’ve gotta do.” He insisted as he carefully hooked his arms under your knees and shoulders, Sara placing your purse in your lap and wishing you goodbye. Carrying you out to the van as he carefully worked on setting you into the passenger seat. Buckling you in as he frowned. Rounding the front and clamoring into the drivers seat. Starting up the van as REO Speedwagon played softly along the radio.

“Why’d you have to fucking…pick that movie?” You whispered as he carefully reversed, looking over his shoulder as he hummed lightly to himself. Thinking quietly as he chewed on his lower lip. “I uh…I really thought it would be nice…that you’d like it a whole bunch, and that’s you’d remember.” He whispered as he pulled onto the main road. Driving relatively silently, which was out of character…but comfortable.

“I did remember…and it made me so mad Eddie. It made me more than mad. It made me sad and confused. I’ve tried to get past it, I’ve tried dating…especially dating the opposite of you. I tried dating Andrew fucking Harper. He’s the one who wears that hat everywhere, hangs around Jason…he wasn’t like you. I wanted you. I only wanted you…and I couldn’t have you.” You whispered as you chewed on your lip. “I don’t even know you anymore but you’ve slotted right back into place and it pisses me off. Why do you just get to come back Eddie? Why do you just get to fit right back into my arms and my heart…why do you get to do this? And why am I letting you?” You murmured as you turned to look at him. His eyes trained on the road ahead, tears brimming in his big chocolate eyes as he cleared his throat. “I uh…I dunno…maybe we’re intertwined. I’m the…I’m the demon king, you my loyal succubus?” He tried to find humor in the situation as you scoffed lightly, his unrelenting awkwardness bringing you a sense of joy. Choosing to break the tension, you prompted him with a question. “You hungry…?” You whispered lightly as he grinned, licking his bottom lip in thought. “Starving honestly.”

It wasn’t a long ride to the tiny excuse of a McDonald’s, the both of you ordering as you fished your wallet from inside your purse. Ordering through the crackly speaker and having your order read back to you by a stoned teenager. Handing Eddie a ten as he hummed contentedly. Paying and taking the greasy brown bag as he parked the van.

Rifling through the bag, Eddie grinned eagerly. Clearly his high was catching up to him as he carefully set the bag down on the console. “We’ve got a large fry and a quarter pounder with cheese, extra pickles and mayonnaise for the lady~ and a large fry, a filet o fish with double cheese and an apple pie for myself…” he crooned. “And your disgusting orangeade.” He laughed out while sticking his tongue out in mock disgust as you rolled your eyes. “You’re drinking a root beer and eating a filet o fish, you don’t get to judge me Munson. Plus orangeade is like…carbonated tang, or sunny d.” You reasoned as he rolled his eyes. “Plus I paid! You don’t get to complain.” You bargained as he scoffed. “Ah yes our fine dining, surmounting to a whopping five dollars and seventy cents…” he teased as he ate his filet o fish, carefully chewing away as you ate in silence. “Is this a date?” You suddenly asked as you looked at him. “Because it feels like one Eddie…” you murmured as he choked on his meal, wiping his mouth and chugging down his root beer to quell his suffocating fishy sandwich.

“I…I’m not sure, do you want it to be?” He asked softly as he wiped the mayo from the corner of his lips as you hummed. “I uh…yeah I’d like to have it be a date…” you insisted softly as you carefully wiped your mouth and hummed nervously. “I want to be dating.” You clarified as he carefully quirked a brow. “I want to be your girlfriend…we’ve done the little dance…but we can do this dance backwards? Start dating…while figuring out everything we need to know about each other backwards?” You explained as he stared at you incredulously, quietly nodding. “I’m not a really conventional guy…so yeah I guess I could do that. I’ve got a lotta making up to do anyways.” He insisted softly as he reached over slowly.

His calloused fingers linked with yours, slow and nervous, palms clammy and fingertips bumping before they finally settled together. The both of you letting out a joint exhale as he laughed loudly, pumping his free fist in the air. “Fuck…yes! God yes this is what I’ve been gunning for. Oh my god I can bring you to hellfire…I can bring you to the hideout, I can show you the songs I wrote for you…” he rambled as you laughed. “And youuu, can join me at football and basketball games to take pictures and make spreads for yearbook, to Lynnie’s girlscout meetings, and you can go to do boring shit with me…” you insisted as he clicked his tongue. “Only because it’s for you…” he insisted slowly. Leaving you both in a contented, relieving silence as you carefully finished up your fries and smiled lightly. Letting Eddie drive you back home.

You carefully took Eddie inside with you once home, kicking off your shoes as you hummed lightly. Padding into the kitchen as Eddie followed, finding a note on the fridge that your mom picked up a late shift, and Marilyn would be staying with her friend Maxine just two streets down. Carefully crumpling up the letter and tossing it into the trash as you pried the fridge open. Eddie’s hips pressed to yours as he reached past you for a can of beer and a lemon square in the fridge.

“Well…I think we should do boyfriend and girlfriend things…so we can watch a movie, you can stay the night…” you offered as Eddie shrugged. “Sure…yeah that works for me.” He insisted through a mouthful as you gagged playfully in disgust at his actions. “Whatever you nasty…I’m gonna go change into pajamas, keep yourself entertained.” You insisted softly as you padded upstairs, watching as Eddie immediately went about with his allowed snooping and grinning. The house just fit so well around him, he was meant to be here.

You trekked to your room, deciding on a shower to ease the sweat from the workday away from your skin. Starting up the hot water and prepping your towels and pajamas. Consisting of a long shirt and some shorts. Getting yourself stripped down and taking a deep breath as the warm water eased your muscles. Lathering the coconut like shampoo and conditioner into your scalp, and pairing it with body wash as you scrubbed yourself down. You were happy, you had that closure with Eddie. You were supposed to be happy, so why couldn’t you stop yourself from crying? Why were the tears flowing so freely? Was it relief? Or was it that you did love Eddie but knew you didn’t know him anymore?

You managed to shake the tears away as you sighed. You did love Eddie, you loved him so much, and you were excited to know Eddie. You couldn’t rob yourself of that experience. Shutting off the shower you got out to dry off, working on lotioning up your body, running your product through your hair, and dressing yourself carefully as you opened up your bathroom door. Shrieking in terror as you managed to scare Eddie to the ground during his snooping through your room as he held his chest.

“Jesus H. Christ babe! What the fuck?!” He called as you held your own, heaving lightly as he carefully got back to standing. A carebear clutched in his ring clad hand as you carefully relaxed. “I didn’t know you were in here, I’m sorry honey…put my carebear down please?” You prompted as he obliged, placing it back in its pile as you walked over to your tv in the corner of your room. Flipping it on and letting some random late night television play. Climbing into bed as Eddie removed his sneakers, jeans and jackets before joining you under the frilly comforter. Getting himself comfortable as you scoffed. “Nothing changes huh? You get real cozy wherever you are…” you commented as he shrugged lightly.

The two of you watched tv for a while, Eddie aimlessly playing with your hair before slowly looking at you as he hummed. “Since we’re like…dating, can I kiss you?” He asked softly as you carefully turned to face him. His features soft and lips semi parted as you thought quietly. Not giving a verbal answer, but pulling him in to kiss you as your lips melded together.

He held you close as he pressed his chest to yours, humming into it as his kisses tentatively trailed away from your lips, along your jaw and neck as his calloused hands ran up your hips. Thumbs rubbing circles into them as you leaned your head back a bit. Choosing to make up for lost time, as with Eddie it felt right.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart…” he murmured against your collarbone as his hands worked up your sides and to your breasts as you shuddered lightly. “I should have been here…we could’ve had this the whole time. You needed me…” he whispered as you ran your own hands up his shirt, along his spine as he hummed.

“It’s okay Eddie…you’re here now, you’re here right now and that’s all that matters to me.” You assured softly as you carefully lifted your hips, letting him work his fingers into your waistband. His rings cold against your hips as you smiled lightly. “I want to be here for you…” he whispered as you slowly worked your shirt off, Eddie sitting back to allow you to do so.

His lips latched onto your collarbones, working down the center of your chest. Leaving warm and deep kisses around your chest. Nipping at your left breast to leave a hickey, his right hand moving to lightly grope at you. Gently pinching your nipple as you moaned lightly. Head rolling back as he moved to straddle your left leg, his own slotting between your thighs as he hummed eagerly.

“Pretty girl I’m so sorry…” he cooed as he continued his gentle ministrations. You’d had sex before, you’d had flings, but this was love making. Eddie was showing you how dearly he loved you, how dearly he needed to be there for you. His right hand traveled down your stomach, down the curve of your hip before stopping at your waistband as you allowed him to work off your shorts and underwear. Tentative and gentle as his kisses traveled lower and lower. Crawling down the bed till his nose bumped against your clit as he hummed.

His lips lightly latched onto your clit, lightly sucking while applying pressure with his tongue. His thumb lightly grazing over your slit, carefully patting your lips to find your arousal pooling. Humming contentedly to himself as his kisses traveled down and his thumb took his lips place at your bundle of nerves. Rubbing in careful circles as his kisses deepened along your lips, pressing his tongue deep into you as he lapped slow and deep. He was worshipping you, paying careful attention to you, which he’d failed to do for so long before. Eating you out with nothing but adoration, his big eyes looking to your face for any indication of how you felt.

You were pressed into your pillows, lashes fluttering as you carefully held onto the back of his head. Feeling his tender lips working you with ease as you bit your lower lip. Head lulled back as you moaned deeply. Slowly pressing your thighs around his head as you groaned loudly to yourself. “So good Eddie, you’re doing so good for me…taking such good care of me…” you praised as he continued, now with a bit more confidence as he worked his tongue and thumb in synchronicity.

You felt your back arch as you gripped his hair in your fist, moaning desperately as you panted loudly. Whining in delirium as you felt your pent up anger and confusion unraveling. Nearly coming undone before Eddie pulled away. Mouth slick with your arousal as he smiled adoringly. Working off his shirt and boxers.

His body was littered with tattoos, some better than others. Trail of hair from his navel down to his hardening cock. twitching lightly and desperate for reprieve as you placed your hand behind his head. Pulling him into a kiss as you moaned desperately into his mouth.

Your hand took hold of his cock, languidly stroking him as you made light work of getting you both situated. Helping Eddie with the hard part as you lined him up, easing him an inch or two into you.

His head fell forward, biting his lower lip and whimpering out your name lightly as he eased into you. Slow and tender as he continued his sweet and light kisses. “So good for me honey…you feel so good, I adore you…” he murmured as he bottomed out. Earning a light whine from you as you kissed around his face. His hips stuttering as he began his languid and deep thrusts. Keeping a sensual rhythm as you panted out his name.

“It feels so good Eddie…fuck you’re so good, you’re so good to me honey…” you whined as you held his close, his forehead to yours as you kissed him lightly. Whimpering eagerly to yourself as you carefully dug your nails into his shoulders. You were both so pent up and angry, so sad, so distraught that you’d finally realized just how much you’d needed and wanted one another.

His thrusts stuttered a bit as he sped up, groaning loudly as his kisses grew feverish around your neck and shoulders. Leaving deep hickeys, marking his place in your life as your nails raked down his back. Moaning desperately as you whimpered in need. “Eddie please…’m so close, so so close,” you whined as he grinned lightly. “Me too honey…” he assured as he sped up.

“In or out honey?” He asked softly as you held his face and panted. “In please, I’m on the pill,” you promised before feeling him bottom out, your lashes fluttering as you let your head fall back. Incoherent muttering leaving you as you felt yourself come undone, Eddie doing the same as he moaned and whined out your name. Panting desperately as he whimpered, moving to lie down on your chest as you held him close.

“I’m here from now on…I promise…” he panted out carefully as he rested his chin on your sternum, looking up at you as you smiled lightly, catching your own breath. “I know baby…I know.”

Taglist: open

Tags: @munson-blurbs

[artaxlivs]

Robin had gone first. Then Eddie, flipping up into the right side world and tumbling down onto his own mattress. Nancy is halfway up the sheet rope when it happens. She has her back to Steve so she doesn’t even see it. Eddie watches Steve stiffen up, the whites of his eyes taking over. It’s the third time Eddie’s seen it and it’s so familiar that he recognizes it right away. He hates that he recognizes it. Eddie’s stomach clenches in fear as he looks up at Nancy climbing down to them. Nancy who doesn’t know it’s happening. Nancy who’s in the way of Eddie stopping this from happening in front of him again.

He shouts at her to fucking move as he grabs their side of the sheet rope and starts to climb back up - down? He almost bashes Nancy in the skull with his filthy Reeboks, climbing back up the sheet rope into the ceiling and flipping upside down before dropping onto the floor next to Steve.

“What’s his favorite song?” Eddie yells, looking at Nancy as she stares helplessly at Steve.

Her face scrunches up in fear and what might be shame, “I…I-I don’t know! We barely even talk anymore.” She grabs Steve by the shoulders, shaking him none too gently but it’s like he’s frozen in place, his body resists the movement. “Steve! Steve, wake up! Please, please!”

“That won’t work!” Eddie shouts, voice more than a little manic, because he’s tried it. He’s been here before and there’s no fucking way he’s going to watch Steve float up to the ceiling and break into a million pieces. “Somebody fucking do something - Dustin, what’s Steve’s favorite song?” Eddie’s screeching up at where the kids are watching in terror and he feels bad demanding their help but he doesn’t know Steve well enough and they fucking should.

Why didn’t they make a list? Why don’t they know everyone’s favorite song and not just Kate Bush?

“I-I don’t know. Steve lets us put on wh-what we like. Or just…” Dustin looks like he’s gonna cry and Eddie will feel guilty later but he does not have time for that shit right now.

He curses loudly, pushing Nancy to the side and grabbing Steve’s shoulders, “What is it man? Tears for Fears? Wham? Something terrible like that?”

Behind him, he feels someone else climbing down the rope and then he’s shoved aside as Robin gets right up in Steve’s face. She’s crying and shaking, stumbling over her feet and her words as she almost falls into Steve’s still bare chest.

“Steve? Steve, you can’t leave me. You’re my best friend, I need you. I need you. And you-you gotta sing your part, babe. ‘cause this is a duet, remember? Me and you. Just two chocolate chip cookies. We’re a duet.” Robin’s voice falters for a moment but then she begins to sing, “Don’t go-

*

“You should go first, Steve.” Nancy shoulder bumps him. “Not sure you and Eddie want to be too far apart.”

Sputtering, Steve tries to deny it but she grins. “It’s okay. You like him. I can tell.”

He ducks his head, grabbing the rope and staring up at Eddie. Eddie looks up at him, gives him a little finger wave and, yeah, Steve likes him. Shaking his head he starts to climb up through the opening in the ceiling.

Then he’s falling, falling, falling.

Thump. He lands hard. Rolling quickly to get to his feet, Steve looks around. Is he in his pool? There’s vines everywhere, lightning flashes in the sky and when he turns toward it, he sees his dad looking down at him, mouth set in a harsh line.

“Is this what you’re going to do with your life?” John Harrington says, disapproval bleeding from every word. “You’re just going to be a waste? Dead end job? No friends? No girlfriend?”

“Dad…” Steve starts, his heart in his throat like it is every single time his dad looks down at him.

“No, don’t bother. You’ve got nothing new to say for yourself. Such a disappointment.” His dad shakes his head, turning his back on Steve and walking away from the empty pool. Ignoring Steve’s crying as he pulls himself up the ladder and chases after him.

Steve doesn’t know why he’s crying. He never cries anymore. He hasn’t cried in front of his dad since he was a kid. Maybe nine or ten. Since his dad had told him that crying was for sissies. For babies. Fairies. And did he want people thinking he was a pussy?

“Steve, maybe if you just applied yourself?” His mom is saying, placating, patting Steve’s hand gently. They’re in the kitchen now. “Maybe you could do better?”

“Cynthia. Now. Leave him.” His dad says from far away. His mother flinches, pulling her hand away from Steve.

Steve reaches for her, desperate for her soft touch, for her to love him, for them both to see that he’s more than just a job and college. That he protects people. That he’s helped save the world. Why can’t they see that? Why can’t they see him?

They turn their backs and no amount of his pleading or yelling gets them to turn around or even acknowledge him.

The world shifts and Nancy’s ladling bright red punch into a cup. She’s so young and sad. He doesn’t want her to be sad. She’s so smart and good and brave. She deserves good things and Steve can give those to her. Can’t he? Movies and cuddling and attention. Like a good boyfriend.

“You’re bullshit. Bullshit. Your love is… bullshit. ” She’s petulant and childish when she says it. She’s accusing him, blaming him, leaving him. “Everything is bullshit. We’re bullshit.”

“But-” He starts but she turns away, walking away until he can’t reach out for her. Can’t touch her thin frame or her delicate shoulders. He can hear her crying and whispering ‘bullshit’ but he can’t get through to her.

“Nancy, please, please. I love you. I just want to be here for you. I want to protect you, keep you safe. Can’t you hear me? Can’t you see that? I’m not - I’m not bullshit. Please don’t leave me.” He pleads, reaching out for her but falling short time and again.

*

Eddie runs into his Upside Down bedroom, stumbles for a moment because it’s the same but different and then he zeroes in on Wayne’s old acoustic guitar. The one he’d given Eddie after teaching him to play a Johnny Cash song on it. He’d fallen head over heels in love with music after that. Teaching himself to pick up just about any song and mimic it on his guitar. It wasn’t until high school that he’d actually learned to read music.

He races back to where Robin is singing and starts playing the chords to her song. Hoping with everything he has that it’s enough. That wherever Steve is battling Vecna, that he can hear them.

*

There’s a boy in a chair, a man bending over his arm with a machine. The boy is whimpering, clenching his teeth as the buzzing sound fills the room. The buzzing stops and the man sets the tool aside, wiping something from the kid’s arm to reveal a 001 tattoo on his forearm.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says in a pleasant voice. “Nothing to be afraid of, is there, Steve?” He turns to look at Steve with bright blue eyes and guttural voice, saying, “Why don’t you take a seat?”

Steve runs into the hallway. It feels like a hospital, there’s blood on the walls and bodies on the floor as Steve runs. He comes to a boarded up door, yanking the boards off one by one.

Behind him, the guttural voice calls out, “Steve.” He turns. The monster walking toward him is horrifying. It’s a man but not. “What are you doing? It’s not time for you to leave.” Steve pulls off more of the boards. “Now that you’ve seen where I’ve been. I’d like to show you where I’m going.”

Breaking through the door finally, Steve finds himself back in the first room and then in the chair that the kid had been in, vines twining around his arms and legs as he struggles against them. The monster leans over him, breathing putrid breath in his face. “I want you to tell Eleven everything you see.”

And then Steve’s mind fills with visions of death and destruction, the bodies of the kids, gates opening through Hawkins, the world falling into the Upside Down. He screams.

*

It’s far away at first, “don’t go breaking…” Almost too soft to hear over the other voices but when Steve turns, the music gets louder. He follows until he’s suddenly standing in his kitchen. The sun is shining through the windows like it does in the afternoons. Robin’s there. Her long skinny legs, so white and freckly, stick out from under a pair of his gym shorts that she's stolen permanently because “Harrington, no one needs to see that much of your thighs” and one of her own geeky band sweatshirts. She’s such a dork. He loves her so much.

“I’m personally offended that you don’t wear a frilly apron when you bake cookies, Steve.” She says with that nasally lilt to her voice when she’s making fun of him. She leans around him, poking one finger into the bowl and snaking it back to shove into her mouth.

“Hey!” He smacks her hand with the wooden spoon. “You’ll get salmonella.”

“Who cares? Cookie dough is worth it. Especially yours. Why is it so good? What kind of magic do you put in these?” She tries to reach around him for another finger full but he moves his whole body to block her.

“God, you’re like a fucking raccoon. Hands off!” Steve’s laughing, scooting his body back and forth to block her attempts to get to the bowl.

Whatever song that was on the radio fades out and the intro for Elton John’s “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” comes on, Robin squeals. “This is our song!”

“What?” He laughs, turning toward her and missing the hand that sneaks past him but she’s just grabbing the wooden spoon this time. She eats the small bit on the spoon and then holds it up like a microphone.

“You and me, Harrington. We can’t break each other’s hearts because we are each other's hearts. There’s no one like us.” She grins, dancing on her socked feet, giving a little spin.

Steve smiles to spite himself, wiping his hands on a towel and stepping away from the counter to join her, “Just two chocolate chip cookies in a world full of oatmeal raisins?”

“Yes!” She exclaims and then immediately picks up Elton John’s part, “Don’t go breaking my heart!” Crooning, leaning in and singing right into the spoon. She doesn’t sing the next line.

“Oh, wait - am I the girl part? Of course I am.” Steve sighs, pretending to be exasperated but leaning into it. Shimmying his shoulders and dancing toward her.

She laughs, singing, “Oh honey if I get restless.”

He leans in, “Baby you’re not that kind.”

She spins, tossing the spoon into the sink and grabbing his hand to swing it back and forth during the musical transition, “Oh don’t go breaking my heart…”

“You take the weight off of me,” Steve sings back, grabbing her other hand to dance her around.

“Oh honey when you knock on my door,” She tries to sing sexily but she’s awkward and goofy and has no experience trying to be sexy.

Steve gives her his patented smolder, “Ohhhh, I gave you my key.”

She rolls her eyes but they both sing the “oooo, ooos” as Steve twirls a screeching Robin into his chest. She flails, her complete lack of dance experience making it impossible for her to look like anything other than a graceless flamingo.

They sing together, right in each other's faces, “Nobody knows it.”

Vines grow along the ceiling and Steve’s stomach sinks. The music fades out and his hands are empty. The silence is so loud and the kitchen is empty save for the vines growing along the counters and out of the cabinets. He’s alone. Alone in this big giant house where there was never music or laughter. Where he only disappointed people. Where he let them down. Where Steve wasn’t enough for them to love him.

“When I was down...” Robin’s voice sings from somewhere far away. It’s trembling like she’s crying and Steve can’t let her cry, she’s his best friend. His soulmate. His other half.

*

Robin is singing Elton’s parts to the song and whispering Kiki Dee’s for Steve, tears are flowing freely down her freckled cheeks. On the other side of her, Eddie can see Nancy crying too. He can hear the kids crying above them.

Tears slide out from under Steve’s white eyes, one on each cheek, slipping down his dirty, bloody face to fall from his jawline onto Eddie’s vest. Faintly, so faintly, Steve whispers, “I was your clown.”

Eddie grabs Robin’s flailing hand, “Keep going Buckley.”

Eddie sings the “ooo ooos” with her, strumming along, and they both sing, “Nobody knows it….nobody knows it.”

*

The kitchen turns red, the walls separating to reveal a wasteland, a staircase, a clock, pillars of vines and bodies that Steve doesn’t want to look at. And him. Vecna. Henry Creel…001 as he’s just revealed himself.

“Steve Harrington. So much pain. You hid it so well. Let go. They don’t want you. They don’t need you. They have people better than you, faster than you, smarter than you.” His voice creeps like the vines and Steve wishes he had his nailbat, his baby. “They’re not even trying to save you. Why should they? You’ve never been enough for them.”

Robin’s voice sings so softly it’s almost like a breeze across a desert, “right from the start, I gave you my heart.”

Steve turns toward her voice and sees an opening in the red wasteland. It’s dark on the other side but he can see Robin, her face scrunched up in fear, Eddie’s big brown eyes pleading, Nancy holding onto Robin’s shoulder, whispering the words of the song along with her.

Steve runs. He runs to his girl. His Robin. His platonic with a capital P soulmate.

The broken, bloody bodies of the kids fall into his path like boulders and they might have slowed Steve down, might have tripped him up but he remembers now that he wouldn’t fail them. Not while he could still run, not while he could fight. He would never let them fall so the bodies falling around him aren't real.

They’re not.

“Ohhhh I gave you my heart,” He sings out as he runs to her.

*

Tears are flowing freely down Steve’s face now, matching Robin’s and the kids. He’s still in the trance and he hasn’t sung anymore of the lines yet but Robin’s still singing, even though now it’s more tears and snot than notes. Eddie lends her his voice, singing along with her, “Don’t go breaking my heart,” and then singing Steve’s part, “I won’t go breaking your heart!”

Then together again, “Don’t go breaking my heart.”

*

He’s almost there. Steve can see everyone clearly through the portal now. Can feel Vecna’s laughter behind him. The ground shakes and the world starts to collapse onto itself as he leaps through the opening -

*

Steve’s eyes blink once, twice, then open normally and he throws himself into Robin’s arms like he’d been running to get there. Maybe he has. Eddie isn’t sure he wants to know what it’s like on the other side of this thing. As Steve launches himself into Robin’s arms he sings, “Nobody told us, cause nobody showed us” and Robin, still crying, sings back, “Now it’s up to us babe, Oh I think we can make it.”

They’re laughing and crying, foreheads pressed together. Her arms are holding him tight and he’s got one arm around her shoulders and the other cupping her head to keep them pressed together.

“I love you. I love you so much, Robbie.” Steve cries, clutching her tighter still. Eddie feels like they’re all intruding because he’s never seen such a blatant display of love before. He can’t even be mad as the crush he has on Harrington bows out gracefully. How could he? Robin just saved Steve’s life. She deserves to get the guy.

“I love you too, dingus. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” Robin rears back and smacks Steve on the shoulder, wiping her tears with the other hand. “I’m so glad that song fucking worked. You’re baking me so many cookies after this.”

Chuckling, Steve wipes at her tears with his thumbs, “Deal.” Then he turns to Nancy, hugging her much more gently than he had Robin. “Thanks Nance.”

Eddie glances up at the hole in the ceiling. Dustin and Erica are leaning against each other and Lucas is holding Max in his arms. They’re faces are red from crying and they’ve all got their eyes locked on Steve.

Steve moves from Nancy to Eddie. Much to his surprise, Eddie is enveloped into a warm, tight hug, “Thanks, Eddie. I could hear you, too. Thank you.” Steve pulls him in again, like he’s reassuring himself that Eddie’s there, or maybe just that Steve isn’t dead.

“Sure man, of course. I’m not sure how I would have handled it if it hadn’t worked.” He doesn’t say if Steve had died. He doesn’t say if he’d had to watch someone die that way again. It’s there though, just the same.

Steve nods, like he knows. He probably does.

Cross posted on Ao3

[seths-rogens]

for the writing prompts i GOTTA ask for #34 "why are you so cold" eeeeeeeee i'm twirling my hair already. pairing of your choice <3 and if 34 isn't inspiring, please go for which ever one you hoped someone would request!

okay this is longer than the last two prompts and Wayyyy spicier than anything I've ever posted (even if it is still fairly tame i think) but here u go bestie! hope u liiiike <3

word count: 2.9k | rating: E

cw: blood drinking

——————

34. Why are you so cold?

“What’re you cooking?”

Steve startles in his place by the stove, whipping round and slamming back up against the oven. Boiling water sloshes over the rim of the pan, soaking into the back of his t-shirt. 

He barely feels it, too focused on the figure standing in the doorway to the hall. They’re drenched in shadow, features unrecognisable. He’d had the lights low to offset the migraine that was ever so slowly wearing off, but also because it felt wrong to turn the lights on at two in the morning. 

He regrets that now.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Steve chokes out, wishing more than anything that he had his nail bat within reach. He glances off to the side, judging the distance between himself and the knife block. If only he could—

“Now, now, Stevie. That’s no way to treat an old friend.” 

Steve inhales sharply, his eyes adjusting to the dark.

Long hair, lank and tangled. A once white shirt shredded and stained with blood so dark it seemed black. Torn jeans and muddied white Reeboks. Steve can't see past the tears in the clothes, but he knows it probably isn't pretty. 

A dead man takes a step forward out of the shadows.

“Eddie.”

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!” Eddie grins, baring his teeth. Even in the dark they gleam bright white.

“You’re dead.”

"I am?!" Eddie exclaims, starting to frantically pat himself down. Steve winces  - that's gotta hurt. He pats at his chest, rests a hand over his heart and breathes deep. "God, you had me worried for a sec there, Stevie boy."

"This isn't real." 

"Then what, pray tell, do you think it is?" 

"A-a dream. Or a nightmare. Or... or Vecna's back and I'm his next goddamn victim. Fucking figures right?" Steve rambles on, borderline hysterical. 

Eddie takes another couple steps closer. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and ducks his head as if he's blushing. "Aw, Stevie, you dream about me?"

"No. They're nightmares." He takes a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's just you dying over and over. Bleeding out in my arms, fucking screaming at me to help you." He scoffs before mumbling under his breath. "God, what am I doing? Talking to a freaking mirage."

Steve turns around and leans against the counter. He stares into the boiling water. The pasta's probably overcooked by now. 

"You're not real." Steve mutters to himself in reassurance,

A hard line of pressure  bares down against  the expanse of his back. Steve's breath catches in his throat. "Are you sure, Sweetheart?"

Too solid, all too real, hands gently grasp his hips, before sliding round his waist. A gentle tug and he's pulled into a one-sided embrace. "Don't I feel real?"

Steve doesn't know whether to melt into the feeling or fight it off. 

It's been strange, the last few months. Since they fought Vecna and closed the Upside Down off. Everyone's been different.

Steve included. 

He tries hard to be the rock the group needs, but it weighs on him. He can take everyone else's pain, but who will take his? 

But now, wrapped in strong arms, Steve feels his resolve waning. It would be so easy to fall apart.

He pushes the thoughts back. Eddie is dead. This thing behind him is a trick. 

Steve spins, pressing his palms flat against Not-Eddie's chest and pushing. Quickly, he shifts to the side, leaning over to the switch on the wall and turning on the under cabinet lights. 

He jumps when he turns back round, Not-Eddie much too close for comfort. "Afraid of the dark, are we, pretty boy?"

In the light, Steve takes a closer look. The skin beneath the tears in Eddie's clothes is smooth and unmarred where it should be mangled. The tips of his fingers are near black, like he'd dipped them in ink, the nails sharp. Steve glances at Eddie's grin, notices the extra length of each of his canines, the way they're sharp like fngs. 

Finally, he meets Eddie's eyes. Sees the way they're tinged red. Gasps.

"Like what you see?" Not-Eddie smiles, those fangs of his pressing divots into his bottom lip.

Steve stares, only a little terrified. "You're not Eddie."

Eddie frowns.  "It's a little bit different, I know, but that's what happens when you're the last meal of a few hundred alternate dimension demon bats." 

"No... no, I--" Steve shakes his head. "You can't be him. You can't be." 

"And why's that?"

Steve feels a sting in his eyes. His heart starts to pound. "You were dead. Your heart stopped." He tries to back away further, the counter at his back halting his futile efforts. "We left you there... Oh god... Eddie, we--"

He slides down to the floor, tucking his knees tight to his chest as his breath comes in short pants. "I'm so fucking sorry. I left you there. I... I'm sorry."

With a grace unseen of the Eddie of before,he slinks down to a crouch and speaks with a harsh clarity unlike his previous joviality. "My heart stopped, Harrington. I bled out. That isn't on you."

"But I--"

"No. It's on Vecna. You killed him, yeah?"

Steve nods. "Yeah."

"Then you did all you could. Like, avenged me or whatever." 

Steve runs a hand down his face, surprised to find it coming away wet. "I'm still sorry."

"Steve... I--" Eddie reaches out, cupping Steve's cheek in the palm of his hand. Steve flinches at the sensation of skin touching skin. "What? What's wrong?"

"Why are you so cold?" 

Eddie's skin is cold. Icy like the time Tommy pressed his hand to the back of Steve's neck after taking an ice bath. Cold like the snow Robin shoved down the back of his coat last winter. Cold like the waters of Lovers Lake, and the frigid air of the Upside Down.

It's inhuman. 

Eddie sighs. "So uh, I don't think I'm human anymore." He grimaces awkwardly. "Surprise?"

"What do you mean you're not human?" Steve grits out through clenched teeth. 

Eddie falls backwards onto his butt, sitting criss-cross applesauce across the room. The pot is bubbling over on the stove. Steve ignores it. 

"Well. I should be dead, right? We've established that." He fiddles with a dirty strand of hair. "But all my bites are healed. And I can feel my teeth in my head. They ache and they're sharper than they were before. And..." He pauses, trailing off.

"Spit it out, Munson."

"And I can hear your heart beating. I can smell your blood."

Steve presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose. "So you're saying you're what exactly?"

"I think I'm a vampire."

"A vampire. Of course you are. Why wouldn't you be?"

"Look, I know we weren't that close, but I figured Henderson would freak out if I showed up at his house and the others' parents would ask too many questions."

"So I'm the last resort?"

"No, Steve. I came here because I trust you." He shrugs. "I thought we might've been friends if I'd made it out, y'know? I thought you might be willing to help."

Steve's shoulders slump as the weight of those words sets in. He nods. "What do you need?"

He smiles, canines glinting. "I'm fucking starving."

Steve laughs softly. "Well I've got enough overcooked macaroni if that works?"

Eddie smiles back. "Sounds good."

Steve pushes himself to his feet and offers Eddie a hand up, which he takes gratefully if the extravagant bow he offers means anything. He grabs two bowls and a couple forks, and dishes out the overdone monstrosity. 

With a sheepish grin, Steve passes Eddie a bowl and sits next to him at the breakfast bar. 

Steve digs in as Eddie takes his first mouthful. 

There's quiet for a moment, then, "Hmm?"

"What?" Steve asks through a mouthful. 

"I didn't consider this part."

"What part?" 

"I'm a vampire, Steve."

"So?" He pokes at the pasta with his fork.

"Vampires don't tend to eat human food. Humans are the food." 

Steve splutters, choking on a bite of pasta. He drops his fork, appetite gone. 

"You don't have any raw meat by any chance?"

Steve grimaces. "Haven't really been able to stomach it since," He gestures to his bat bites, still healing. "Y'know." Eddie nods sympathetically. "I'd offer to drive to the butchers but since it's," He checks his watch. "Three-twenty-seven AM, I think they'll be closed. Sorry man." 

Eddie slumps in his seat, running a hand through his mud streaked hair. "It's fine. I'm sure I'll last until tomorrow. Do you mind if I take a shower though?"

"Sure."

He leads Eddie up to his parent's bathroom. "Take as long as you like. I'll grab you a spare change of clothes."

Eddie nods with a smile and ducks into the bathroom. Steve waits until he hears the water running before rushing into his bedroom to pull out the comfiest clothes he owns. A soft pair of heather grey sweatpants and an old, worn in Hawkins Swim team t-shirt. 

He folds them up and leaves them on the bathroom counter, keeping his eyes downcast. 

He heads back downstairs, scrapes what's left of their food into the trash and starts to pace.

Eddie is alive and in his bathroom. *Eddie is alive and in his bathroom.* 

He should be freaking out, and sure, some part of him is, but another part of him is overcome with a sort of overjoyed awe. Maybe he came back a little different, but at least he isn't dead.

It's at that moment that a thought crosses Steve's mind. Eddie is alive again, and he needs to do anything he can to keep him that way.

Steve settles on his parents long untouched bed and waits, raring himself to make an offer he never thought he would.

When the water shuts off Steve swears he feels his heart stop for a moment. 

Eddie smiles when he opens the bathroom door, steam billowing out in a cloud after him. He's trying the ends of his hair with one of Steve's mom's 'hotel quality towels', wearing the borrowed pair of sweats and Steve’s old shirt. "That water pressure is insane, man. I don't think the trailer park has ever had anything like that."

"Ha. Yeah. So I was thinking--" Steve starts, holding himself tense.

Eddie laughs softly. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Funny." Steve rolls his eyes.  "What I was gonna say was, you could always, uh, feed on me. If you want. If it's not like weird or whatever."

Eddie watches him with a stunned expression. Eyes wide and jaw slack.

Steve keeps going. "Just because you said you were hungry, and if you haven't eaten since you got out of the Upside Down - which we will be talking about by the way - then you probably really need to eat, right?" 

"Right." Eddie nods, walking over to the opposite side of the bed to where Steve sits. "And you're just offering yourself up like a jock on a platter?" He shakes his head, sitting next to Steve, up against the headboard. "The kings are supposed to feast on the peasants, Stevie. Not the other way around."

"C'mon, man. You said you were starving."

"I could really hurt you, Steve. It's not worth that." 

Eddie ducks his head and Steve grabs his wrist, squeezing a little."You trust me, right? So I can trust you back. I trust that you'll know when to stop. I trust that you won't hurt me."

"It's not that simple."

"You don't know that. You won't know if you don't try." 

"You're reckless, you know that?" Steve just grins. Eddie hesitates. "Only if you're sure."

"I'm sure." Steve tilts his neck to the side. Edde starts to lean in, shuffling awkwardly to try and find a better angle. Steve takes pity.  "Here, maybe this is easier." He swings a leg over Eddie's thighs and drops into his lap. 

Eddie gasps as his weight settles. Their eyes meet and everything narrows. Nothing else matters, only  two men in an empty mansion in Loch Nora. 

Tentatively, Steve loops his wrists together behind Eddie's neck, the wet strands of his hair brushing his skin. "Is this better?"

Eddie nods, awestruck. “Yeah. That’s good.”

Steve nods. “Okay. Cool.”

A pause. They watch one another.

“You can bite me now.”

“Right.”

Eddie leans in, dragging his nose along the column of Steve’s neck, inhaling that sweet, tart smell. 

Steve tries to repress a shiver.

Eddie bares his fangs, prepares to bite. 

“Wait!” Steve stops him, ducking away from Eddie’s mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Is it gonna hurt?” “I don’t know.” 

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “Continue.”

He closes his eyes, bares his neck once more.

It’s like a prick, at first, when Eddie’s fangs pierce his skin. A little uncomfortable but not unbearable.

But then, all encompassing heat. Spreading down, down from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

Steve gasps, eyes flying open as he twitches in Eddie’s lap, clenching his hands into fists. The heat pools in Steve’s gut as he feels his sweatpants grow just that bit tighter. He rolls his hips without thinking, lets out a guttural moan as his eyes roll back into his head. Feels his toes curl in his socks.

Eddie pulls away. “Steve?”

“Don’t stop. Why did you stop?” His breath comes in short pants.

Eddie grimaced. “You seem a little, uh… compromised? I don’t wanna continue if you’re gonna hate me after. Don’t think I could live with myself.” 

Steve meets Eddie’s eyes, sees the dark, wide circles of his pupils. His own probably just as large. “I don’t want you to stop. I didn’t know it would feel like this.” 

“Does it feel… does it feel good?”

“So fucking good. I want you to keep going.”

“You’re sure?”

Steve rolls his eyes, tangling a hand in the hair at the back of Eddie’s head and dragging him into a kiss, wet and messy with blood and spit. Eddie gasps against Steve’s lips.

When they pull back, his eyes grow ever darker as they take in the blood smeared around Steve’s mouth. 

Steve leans into Eddie’s ear. Whispers. “Bite me again.”

With a moan, Eddie grips Steve at the roots of his hair, tugs his head to the side. Steve lets out an involuntary whimper. 

“Fuck…” Steve sighs, eyes falling closed as Eddie’s teeth pierce his skin for the second time. 

He feels his cock straining against its confines. He starts to roll his hips again, short, frantic jerks as he clenches and unclenches his hand in Eddie’s hair. “Eddie… fuck, Eddie, please.”

Eddie pulls off, licks over the punctures, presses his bloody lips to Steve’s adams apple. “What do you need, baby?”

Steve just whimpers, continues to grind in Eddie’s lap.

Eddie grasps Steve’s hips, stilling him. “Answer me, Sweetheart.”

Steve whines. “Fuck. Need you. Need more.”

“Good, that’s good, baby. You’re doing so well for me.” Eddie’s hands slide down to Steve’s ass, where he grabs both cheeks in a firm unrelenting grip. He squeezes, pulls, forces Steve to start a slow grind. “God, I wish I could rip you outta these, Stevie.” 

Steve freezes, shudders, sits back in Eddie’s hands to meet his eye. Swimming black meets swimming black. 

“Do it.”

“You’re serious?” 

Steve nods. “I have other sweatpants.” 

Eddie smirks. He digs his shoe nails into the fabric of Steve’s sweats, pulls until a loud ripping noise cuts through the quiet of the room. Eddie tears until he can pull the scraps away from Steve’s legs and drops them to the floor.

“Holy fuck.” Steve dives in for another kiss, grinding his barely covered cock against Eddie’s in his borrowed sweatpants as he shoves his tongue in Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie gropes his ass again, little fingers dipping down until they brush the now bare skin of Steve’s thighs below the hem of his briefs. He controls the rhythm and Steve can do nothing but let him.

“Can you come like this?” Eddie asks breathily. Steve just whines an affirmation. “Good. I want you to.” Eddie smirks, but the stuttering of his hips betrays how much he’s affected. 

They become desperate, pace frantic and uncoordinated. They’re not kissing anymore, just breathing into one another’s mouths. Steve clutches tight to the back of Eddie’s shirt as Eddie shifts one hand from Steve’s ass and presses it hard to the bulge in his pants. “Come for me, baby.”

The coil in Steve’s stomach unwinds and he tenses as he falls over the edge, muscles pulling tight like a bowstring. He moans unintelligibly, eyes clenching shut as the roll of his hips turns to involuntary little jerks. 

Everything fades to black.

When he comes to, he’s wrapped up in strong arms.

“Back with me?” Eddie asks kindly, a warm smile upon his - now clean - lips.

“How long was I out?” Steve sits up stiffly, stretching and rubbing his eyes.

“Just a little while. I got you some water.” 

Steve grabs the water bottle on the bedside table, chugging down half before recapping it. “So we should do that again sometime.”

Eddie laughs.  “You read my mind.” Steve turns to him, they share a smile.

Steve smirks. “Thought that was your job, Mr Vampire.”

[illylli]

Sweet Thing | Steddie x fem!Reader (18+)

→ Getting high at Lover’s Lake on a soft summer’s day seems like a perfect idea, until both Eddie and Steve realise they can’t keep their hands to themselves when they see you in your bikini.

→ 4k words: minors DNI; mentions of drug use, public oral (female receiving), choking kink

→ a/n: this was super fun to write, I absolutely adore wholesome n sexy threesome dynamics. If this gets enough traction, I might write a part 2 ;)

♫ mood: ‘sex, drugs, etc.’ by beach weather

Screeching tires alerted you to the boys’ arrival, and you knew what that meant.

Eddie and Steve were bickering over cassette tapes as you slid into the backseat, their argument ceasing as soon as you leant over the console, gifting them both a kiss on the cheek and a flower each.

“What’s this one?” Eddie asked as he brought the pale orange blossom to his nose. You were always sneaking a few from work for your friends.

“Carnation.”

Steve snorted as he put the car back into drive. “What, they sponsored by NASCAR or something?”

“Har har,” Eddie pushed the stem of his flower behind his ear, big brown eyes dazzling you as he smiled. “Do I look cool?”

“You look pretty,” you beamed, settling back into your seat. Steve put his gift onto the dashboard of his new car, which was now filled with a variety of dried and fresh flowers from each time he’d picked you up from the florist.

He reached his hand back, patting your knee as he drove, “Thanks, buttercup.”

You groaned at the nickname; one of many that stuck as soon as they’d learnt where you worked. You didn’t really mind it. In fact, you found it endearing. But letting them believe you hated it always led to them coddling you, and you were a sucker for being sucked up to.

It worked especially well when they were drunk, as it always led to precious kisses, which led to make-out sessions, which led to nothing more, because neither of them were gutsy enough to cross that line.

Maybe it was because they both liked you, thus decided not to put this flirty dynamic at risk by pursuing anything real. All you knew was that something was bound to change eventually, and you were eager to be the catalyst.

“You okay back there?” Steve asked as he heard you shuffling around. Glancing in the rear-view mirror had him swerving on the highway. “Christ, (Y/n)!”

“Don’t look, I’m getting changed into my bikini.”

Steve swore under his breath. “You couldn’t have said something earlier?”

“Dunno why you’re complaining, man,” Eddie mumbled, leaning back to put his feet up on the dash. Steve swatted at his Reeboks.

“Down,” he ordered, “And I didn’t see anything.”

He wasn’t lying. At most he would’ve gotten an eyeful of your thighs when he looked. But it was the possibility that he could’ve seen more that had him on edge.

While he was distracted, Eddie slipped a Dio cassette into the player, and Steve pre-emptively turned the volume down before it started blasting.

“Metal isn’t made to be listened to at a low volume,” Eddie argued, twisting the knob back up.

Another argument broke out; their tiffing the backing track to your wardrobe change. You were at Lover’s Lake in no time, so their bickering fizzled out, excitement setting in.

Eddie hurried to get your door for you, flourishing his hand dramatically. You took it, and he helped you exit. He made no attempt to hide how he ogled you in the wrap dress you’d haphazardly tied around your body to cover up before you reached the shore.

Steve retrieved the picnic stuff and nudged the back door shut with his hip, then struggled to lock the car with his arms full.

They both looked utterly adorable in their beach get-ups: Steve in a thin stripey shirt, red lifeguard-esque swimming trunks, and his signature sunglasses. Eddie went for a more utilitarian look: a dark acid-washed shirt with a few holes in it, his bottom half donned in the most distressed pair of black jeans you’d ever seen (you supposed for airflow). He clamped his teeth around a hair tie as he brushed his mop of hair off his neck, no doubt already feeling the heat.

After he’d tied his hair into a ponytail, and both you and Steve had sufficiently stared at him with hearts in your eyes, Eddie hauled the beach umbrella over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget the sunscreen,” Steve warned, and Eddie gave him the thumbs-up.

You took in the crowded shoreline, filled with families and some familiar faces. “Let’s find somewhere a bit more private,” you suggested, and the boys agreed. You led them through the forest, following the edge of the water until you found an empty stretch of sand, nestled between the trees.

Steve got to work with the sunscreen, ever diligent with his application. With a swift tug, your cover-up fell to the ground. His hands stilled.

“Well, Mr. sun safety, you gonna do me?”

Steve cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah,” he said again, taking a step towards you.

His hands were warm when they connected with your back, his fingers dipping under your bikini string to make sure he got every inch. Eddie came along to help, smothering your face in sunscreen, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he smoothed it out, down your neck and arms.

Satisfied with his job, he promptly snatched up the book he’d brought with him and beelined for the hammock that hung under the shady trees. Steve’s lips brushed your ear as he whispered a devious, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

With a nod you were on to stalking your prey, employing a pincer movement as Steve snuck behind the tree-line. You served as the bait, luring Eddie’s eyes away from the pages, distracting him while Steve jumped out, wrapping his body in the hammock and spinning him upside down.

Eddie released a hilariously high-pitched screech as he hung cocooned.  

“Goddammit!”

You leaned over, flicking his nose. “You have to swim with us today, no more hiding in the shade. You can read anywhere.”

Eddie groaned, “Can’t have a single relaxing day with you two.” He tried fighting out of his entrapment, limbs pushing against the canvas fabric fruitlessly. He huffed his defeat. “Fine.”

Steve put him right, providing an arm when Eddie stumbled back onto his feet, grumbling his discontentment. Eddie rid himself of his shirt, chucking it at Steve’s face, who caught the balled-up fabric with ease, but almost dropped it again when he drunk in the pale, tattooed chest that sunk into the jeans low on his hips.

You’d all seen each other in these states of undress before. You’d even visited Lover’s Lake a couple of times, enjoying the cool water on humid days. But as your attraction never wavered, so did your reactions never change.

Eddie’s knowing smirk lit up his face. He shoved Steve’s chest playfully.

“Don’t forget to do me too, Harrington”

While Steve’s movements stuttered, you started, tugging on the belt loops of Eddie’s jeans to bring him closer before unbuttoning and unzipping them.

“I knew you only wanted to get into my pants,” he teased as you tugged them down, exposing legs that had never seen the sun.

“You wish,” you retorted, sinking to your knees. Eddie’s eyes went unfocused then, the position providing a perfect view down your bikini top. Your expert hands slid up the soft flesh of his thighs and started to feel faint.

Steve’s hands steadied him as he started doing his back and arms, paying extra attention to the tattoos littered across his upper body. He massaged his biceps, fingers following the pronounced veins that wrapped around his muscles.

“Jesus, dude, you’re rock hard.”

Eddie chuckled, turning his head, “From fingering my sweetheart all night long.” He caught the snort you gave in response to his reference to his guitar. He pushed a hand through your hair, tugging, making you look up at him. “Wish that was you, huh.”

You left him with a stinging slap to his upper thigh that left him hissing. You backed into the water to avoid consequence.

“Race me?”

Steve grinned. “You guys don’t stand a chance.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie crossed his arms, getting in his face, “We all know Stevie’s the swim champion.” He then shoved him, stalling him for a second as he ran for the water, giving you both a head start.

The goal was the little island in the middle of the lake, and you were in the lead until Eddie caught up, snagging your ankle. You tried not to laugh, but it was difficult as his ticklish touch crawled up your calves. While Eddie was trying to dunk you into the water, Steve leisurely freestyled his way to the island. After leaving you flustered, Eddie joined him soon after, the two of you prepared for the show of you exiting the water.

Dripping wet with your hair slicked back, the two men felt like they were looking at something that shouldn’t be allowed. During the race your top had become loose, and you were fidgeting with it when Eddie came to the rescue.

“Here, let me help you with that babe.”

The knot was tight, so he had to pry it open with his teeth, his lips brushing the back of your neck. Steve pretended not, his hand hovering suspiciously over his crotch as you pressed your hands to your boobs to keep yourself from being exposed.

Once Eddie was done, your top now secure, he pulled his hair out, shaking it out and splattering you with water droplets. He laughed at your offended look and reached out to pinch your side.

While you watched Eddie retrieve a bag filled with a few joins and his lighter, Steve took the opportunity to palm himself. He was going absolutely crazy watching the drops of water roll down Eddie’s chest, his eyes following to the curve of your body beside his as he passed you a neatly rolled joint.

“My best work so far,” he commented, his wet hair brushing your shoulder as he hovered close.

Your eyes lit up at the pattern on the paper. “Grape flavoured?”

“And apple for Stevie,” he said, passing his friend the one he’d rolled for him.

You all lit up, sitting on the shoreline, water lapping at your feet. With your free hand you played with the damp strands of Eddie’s hair. Steve pointed at his bare hands.

“You lose your rings?”

Eddie shook his head. “Didn’t bring them for that exact reason. I’ve lost a fair few while swimming. Never again.”

Steve placed his hand on his back, rubbing supportively. “That must’ve been really hard, man, I’m sorry,” he teased, playing off Eddie’s unnecessary dramatic wording.

Eddie rolled his eyes, unable to retort verbally while his joint was between his lips.

After that he began to teach you how to blow smoke rings. Steve was going crazy as he watched Eddie press his thumbs to either side of your mouth, demonstrating the shape it needed to be in to achieve the rings. He showed you how he curled his tongue to do it, and you, the apt pupil, got it pretty quickly. Steve showed off and blew one on his first try.

You hummed, licking your lips to taste the residue of the flavoured paper after each puff. Both Eddie and Steve knew you liked sweet things, hence the picnic sitting ready for you back on the mainland, filled with fruit, chocolate and sugar.

As you reached the end of your joints, Eddie started playing with the frill on your bikini bottoms.  “Where’d you get this little set?” he asked, taking in the black and white Gingham, “You look like a snack.”

You shrugged, but the compliment obviously left you chuffed. “Got it on a trip to California.” Then, a minute later, “I’m starving.”

The swim back to your picnic spot was a lot more relaxed, taking a moment to just float and watch the clouds drift across the bright blue sky. Unbeknownst to you, Steve and Eddie were watching on, admiring the glittering sunlight reflected against your skin, making it appear like you were swimming in gold.

“She’s so damn pretty it’s stupid,” Eddie smiled gently. His hair had started to curl as it dried.

Steve was glad they were standing in waist-high water, because the tent in his pants agreed. “Pretty, smart, funny. It really isn’t fair.”

“You guys know I can hear you,” you beamed, eyes still closed. The men laughed, and Eddie splashed you.

Steve waded over with a pebble he’d been playing with, and placed it atop your bellybutton.

Eddie swooped down to pick a rock up from the lakebed, placing it on your stomach. Thus, it became a game of balancing. You shook with restrained giggles as they covered your floating body with little stones. The breaking point was when Eddie placed a tiny pebble on your nose. When it slid off you erupted into laughter, turning upright.

That was your cue to finally have lunch. As you exited the water, Eddie asked Steve what he’d do if someone were drowning. He put on a half-assed act of drowning. You heard him say “I think I need CPR, because you just took my breath away,” and were amused by the way the cheesy pickup line genuinely flustered Steve.

They came to sit down on the blanket, thanking you for setting it all up while they fucked around. You reclined, still wanting to bask in the sun, but as you reached for a strawberry and cream sandwich Steve tutted.

“You’ll choke,” he warned, and with a dramatic groan you sat up, resting your head against his crossed legs, which seemed to be good enough since he didn’t say anything else about it.

Eddie mixed up some cocktails in plastic cups, garnishing the top with a candied orange slice.

“You sure it’s all good to drink and smoke?” Steve asked.

“Golden rule,” Eddie raised a finger, prepared to impart his wisdom. “Beer before grass, you’re on your ass. Grass before beer, you’re in the all clear.”

You hummed in delight as the carbonated drink hit your tongue. Eddie made eye contact with you as he sucked on his candied fruit. Steve tried to focus on not getting hard, hiding his face in his drink as the weed and sugar and his two hot friends drove him insane.

As you reached for a chocolate, just out of reach in your reclined state, Eddie noticed and said “Let me grab that for you, sweet thing.” He hovered over you with the treat, “Open,” he coaxed, then fed it to you. “Messy girl,” he tutted, “Clean me up.” You licked his fingers clean where the chocolate had melted.

He popped one into his mouth, and you mentioned that he got a little chocolate on his face. The mood became more playful as he took another, purposefully smearing it against his face as he frowned at you. “Here? Shit, here?”

You laughed and pulled him down, hands on either side of his face, and you licked the chocolate from the side of his mouth and up his cheek.

Eddie’s dark gaze fell on Steve’s pants and he smirked. “Want one, Stevie?”

You pushed your head back, looking up at him as he tried for nonchalance and said “Why not?”

His stomach flipped as Eddie plucked a chocolate and placed one end between his teeth. He hovered over you, placing his hands on Steve’s knees, drifting closer and closer until Steve opened his mouth to take a bite, their lips brushing in the exchange. You watched the scene, a heat starting to stir in your core.

Eddie acted like the mood hadn’t completely shifted, leaning back to grab a beer before lounging back on his elbows. A cool breeze blew past as the clouds crossed over the sun, and Steve felt painfully restrained as he caught the way your nipples hardened underneath your bikini top. Eddie was looking too, his fingers circling the mouth of his bottle.

“Did you plan this?”

“Hm?” You glanced up at Eddie as he leaned over you to pluck a grape from the bunch.

He motioned between you and the blanket. “You’re matching.”

“Oh yeah,” you giggled, wondering how it’d taken him so long to realise.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you? What, you want us to eat off you instead?”

He placed the grape down on the front of your bikini bottoms, a mini picnic hosted above your sweet spot. Steve began playing with your hair; he had to do something to occupy his hands as he watched Eddie’s mouth lower to your crotch, his lips pressing against the fabric of your bikini as he closed his mouth around the grape.

You sucked in a breath, your hips inching higher ever so slightly, a rumbling laugh reverberating in Eddie’s chest as he chewed, moving away.

“Eddie,” you whined,” Please.”

“Please what?” He laughed when you didn’t answer, “Sweet thing, if you want me to fuck you, you should’ve said something before Harrington got a hardon.”

“I’d be happy to watch,” Steve kidded. “Hang on. You guys aren’t joking?”

Eddie ran a finger up the inside of your thigh, your whole body shuddering under his touch.  “Nah man, I don’t think we are.”

He slid two fingers over your clothed slit, chuckling darkly as you let out a whimper. Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe as Eddie lowered his mouth to you again, teeth sinking into your hip, causing you to buck into him. He apologised with a lick as he hooked his fingers into your bikini, pulling it to the side before pushing a testing finger into you.

“Jesus Christ, you’re already so wet. You like my mouth that much?”

You nodded. Steve groaned.

“So responsive. Uh-uh.” Eddie tutted, pushing your thighs apart as they attempted to jerk closed when his thumb circled your clit. “You want my mouth on you again?” You nodded again, desperate. “I wanna hear you babe.”

“Yes.” Your voice was little more than an airy breath. Eddie smiled.

“Such a good girl,” he beamed, “You want Stevie to play with your tits while I eat you out?”

“Please.”

Steve didn’t hesitate any longer, his hands sliding over the damp material of your bikini top, pressing a squeeze to each.  You looked up, reaching for his face to pull him down into a kiss. He stroked the edge of your jaw as he savoured the sweetness on your tongue, his back stiff as he parted.

Your hand flew to grip his wrist as Eddie’s wet mouth pressed against your clit, his tongue soon flicking against the sensitive nub before he began to suck. Paired with a second finger sliding into your hole, you felt immediately overwhelmed.

Steve wanted so badly to jerk himself off to such a lovely sight, your body twisting, Eddie’s elbows digging into your thighs to keep you still. But he wanted you to feel good first, so his hands dipped back to your breasts, pulling your top down with a low groan. He began alternating between flicking your nipples and squeezing the flesh of your breast. You turned your head, biting down on his forearm hard as Eddie fucked you with his fingers and mouth.

Eddie motioned with his free hand, mumbling something Steve didn’t catch. He made a c-shaped grabby hand, and Steve frowned.

He took the moment to come up for air, pushing his hair out of his face. “She likes being choked.”

“What?” Steve looked down at you, eyebrows raised, “You do?”

“Gently,” Eddie said pointedly, “Like this-“ Eddie reached up, his fingers still in you, pumping slowly as his other hand wrapped around your neck, fingers squeezing the sides, “You don’t want to put any pressure on the front of her throat. Just on the sides. You like that, don’t you sweetheart?”

You responded with the arch of your back, Eddie humming contentedly.

“Yeah, she loves it.”

Steve remembered it now, catching the two of you making out at a party, Eddie’s hand wrapped around your throat. That’s where he must’ve learnt of your preference. Steve tried not to let jealousy wash over him. He wanted to make you feel good, too.

So, he let Eddie’s advice sink in, carefully positioning his hand. He gave a test squeeze and your brows fell in pleasure. “Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?”

You nodded, tears springing to your eyes as Eddie’s mouth pressed to your pussy again. Everything felt like too much and not enough, every touch and squeeze heightened by the high that was coming on now.

“You look so good like this,” Steve cooed, his thumb digging into your pulse. You were biting your lip so hard he was worried you’d draw blood, trying to contain the sounds Eddie was working so hard to coax from you. He bent over, pressing his mouth to yours, and a cacophony of your moans fell onto his tongue and against his teeth.

Eddie made a whiny sound against your pussy as he heard you falling apart, his pace picking up, fingers brushing your sweet spot as they pounded into you. Steve hooked his thumb into your mouth, holding it open so that your pretty sounds released into the air.

Eddie chuckled, lifting his mouth to tell you “You sound like a fuckin’ porn star, baby. God, you feel amazing, clenching around my fingers like that. You gonna cum, babe?”

A chorus of yes yes yes started tumbling from your lips, and Steve cracked onto the fact that you enjoyed the praise.

“You taste fucking phenomenal,” Eddie’s voice muffled as he sunk back to tease your orgasm out with his mouth.

“You’re doing so well, beautiful,” Steve encouraged, “C’mon, I wanna see you cum on his face. Let’s see that. You like it when I play with your boobs?”

Steve’s cock started throbbing when his name fell from your lips in a whimper. At least he could see Eddie was just as affected. Despite his pinpoint focus on getting you off, he was grinding his hips against the ground, chasing friction.

Your nails dug into Steve’s arms as your orgasm built, the pitch of your moans growing higher and higher until you tensed up, your toes curling, a wave of pleasure washing over you, Eddie’s name exhaled dreamily as you rode out the high, enhanced by your actual high.

You slumped against Steve, Eddie panting as he pushed himself up, hovering over you to place a sweet kiss to your lips, still slick with your juices.

“So good,” you whispered, feeling all spent, content to just lay there for a while. “Your turn soon,” you promised.

“Steve should go first,” Eddie told you, “I’m exiling you both to sex island,” he pointed, and you both tittered.

“What makes you think he doesn’t want to fuck you too?” you asked.

Steve held his hands up, “Guilty.”

You all burst into laughter at his response. The day was still young, and you were all high enough to afford yourselves a few reckless decisions. Two of which were devouring you with their eyes, eager to indulge themselves.

They wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

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[passengerseatsam]

bar fight

pairing: eddie munson x female reader

word count: 2.7k

summary: you're a bartender at the hideout. when a fight breaks out, and the band's guitarist gets thrown out, you follow him outside to make sure he's okay. what you discover might surprise you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol use; mentions of blood; sexual harassment; swearing; fist fight; mutual pining; fluff and hurt/comfort

notes: this is the first thing that I've written and finished in, like, four years.

After Eddie gets thrown out of the bar, you wait a few minutes to go find him. It takes a while for the commotion to die down. The patron with the black eye is talking gruffly to the manager, holding a cold bottle to his face, but at least he isn’t calling the cops. The barback, Gary, sends you pointed dirty looks as he mops blood off the floor. You stay planted safely behind the bar, waiting for the storm to pass.

It is partially your fault. This probably wouldn’t have happened, except you, despite knowing that Eddie’s ID was absolutely fake, let him do a few shots of tequila before his set. You didn’t think it was a big deal. He’s twenty years old, and that’s close enough to legal— not like you were feeding alcohol to a high school freshman. Besides, he had been playing here with his band every Tuesday for months, and he’d never caused any trouble. A little bit of booze to loosen up before a show couldn’t hurt, right? 

Wrong. 

The man was older, forties or fifties, with thin hair and breath that smelled like rum. He was laying it on thick— leaning way over the bar, into your face, telling you that certain parts of you were very pretty. Corroded Coffin had just finished their set, and Eddie, lugging an amp off the stage, had caught sight of the guy trying to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. He came in hot, all bravado and no technique. It was downhill from there.

In the end, they toss Eddie out the back door, with his bandmates on his heels. You’re left watching the chaos settle, meeting Gary’s death glare, and keeping your hands busy until the adrenaline fades.

Within a few minutes, the tension evens out. Once the creep is gone, and the manager storms back into his office, it’s easy enough to find a moment to slip out the back door. There were only five customers there, to begin with— four, now that Eddie decked one in the face. They’re good and soused; won’t need you for a while. It’s the time of night where you start watering down their drinks, anyway. You grab a bottle of bottom-shelf vodka on your way out.  

Sure enough, the van is still parked at the back of the building where it usually is. Gareth and Jeff are pacing back and forth, loading drums and equipment into the back. When you step outside, Jeff pokes his head out from the van, looks you over, and sighs. “Hope you’re here to give us a hand with all this shit.”

“You wish. Where is he?”

He jerks his head to the side, directing your attention toward the front of the van. Eddie is sitting sideways in the passenger seat, holding a black bandana over his left eye. The only streetlight is flickering, so it’s hard to get a good view of the harm done. Already, you can tell that a bruise is blooming across his left cheek, a fat trickle of blood streaming from his nose and over his split lip. He took a few hits, but he seems well enough. His legs are swinging guilelessly where they hang off the edge of the van, Reeboks untied and barely on his feet. God forbid he ever sit still.

“Hey, Rambo.” You call, appraising him with a lifted brow. His head lifts. “Haven’t you ever heard you shouldn’t start a fight you can’t finish?” 

“I did finish it,” Eddie grumbles. “I finished it on the floor, but I finished it.”

You snicker.  “I’d ask how the other guy looks, but I saw him already. I think you look worse.”

“He looks like an asshole,” he gripes. He has the soft, unfocused air of drunkenness still lingering over him. Apparently, the beating didn’t quite sober him up. At least, you’re hoping that it’s lingering drunkenness, and not a concussion. “He is an asshole.”

“Well, the manager promised that asshole free drinks next time as a thank-you for not calling the cops.” 

“So he gets free drinks and I get banished?” Eddie scowls. You shrug. Life is unfair that way. 

“You threw the first punch,” you remind him. In all honesty, you do feel kind of bad. He’s drunk, but he thought he was doing the right thing. You’ve seen plenty of bar fights break out over less. He scoffs, head shaking. 

After a beat of silence, his good eye glances back at you. “How about — are you okay?” His words are soft around the edges too, blending together in the way only tequila can do. “Me? I’m fine. That guy’s been here once or twice.” Or three, or four, or five times. But you had been working at the Hideout for about a year now, and getting hit on was kind of par for the course. The guy was a little rude and a little forward, but up until today, he’d been generally harmless. At least he tipped well. You had it under control. 

So you didn’t need Eddie to come tumbling to your rescue, guns blazing. Maybe you should tell him as much— and you will, eventually— but that isn’t the point. You didn’t come out here to lecture him. You didn’t come out to flatter his ego, either. You didn’t ask for this, so you don’t really owe him your thanks. You just came to… check on him, you suppose. Make sure he’s all in one piece. After all, he meant well. You hate to be the reason he’s out here, bleeding in the cold.

Instead, you hold up the bottle of vodka in your hand. “Well, we don’t have a first aid kit.” Don’t tell the health inspector. “But I grabbed what I could.”

Eddie groans. “No more. My head is already spinning.” 

“It’s not to drink, dumbass,” you interject with a soft laugh. “You’ve had enough.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

You stretch your hand out, and Eddie proffers the black bandana he’s been holding. It’s crumpled, damp with sweat; the corner he’s been holding to his face is saturated with blood. With it gone, you can see the extent of the damage. There’s a gash slicing through his eyebrow, dripping thickly toward the hollow above his lid. The red mark under his eye is most definitely going to be purple by tomorrow. You open the bottle, and soak a clean corner of the bandana in the alcohol. Eddie’s nose wrinkles at the smell of it. For a second, you’re worried that this was a bad idea, that the smell might be the thing that pushes him over the edge. You’re not quite sure how drunk he is, and the last thing you need now is for him to be puking out the side of his van. But he swallows, and his face evens out, in control. “You don’t have to do all this,” he says, contrite.

“I know, but it’s the least I can do. This is the most action I’ve seen on a Tuesday shift in ages.” He snorts a laugh at that, his fat lip in the way of his halfhearted grin. You’re passively thankful that the brawl left him with all his teeth. 

You decide to start with the eyebrow. Eddie hisses when you touch the wet bandana to the spot, grin curling into a snarl. “Sorry,” you rush. You dab at the crusted blood that’s matted into the hair, as gently and as precisely as you can manage in the dim light. It’s quiet for a moment, you working and him trying his best to sit still, for once.

You’ve never looked at Eddie closely like this. Of course, you knew his face— you saw him every Tuesday when he played, and sometimes on weekends when he came to see another band. He was basically a coworker. You’d never taken the time to notice the details. His eyebrows are thick and symmetrical, with a slow and steady curve. His jaw is square, overtly masculine, but his cheekbones are high and defined in a way that softens the rest of his structure, boyish. He has a smattering of freckles near his temple, mostly hidden underneath the unruly bangs. Although the fight had been over for thirty minutes now, and despite the September air, there’s still a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. His chest is still rising and falling distinctly, as if he can’t quite catch his breath. If it weren’t so dark, he might be able to see the blush creeping up your throat. You swallow.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice barely above a murmur. 

He shrugs. “I’ve had worse.”

“I meant your pride,” you tease with a smirk. “That old guy kicked your ass.”

“Oh.” He scoffs. His tone is casual, but his voice is thin. With your eyes focused on his brow, you don’t notice him sneaking a glance at your lips, parted in concentration. “Please. He’s lucky I left my rings at home. He’d be in the hospital right now.”

“And you might be in the back of a cop car.” You don’t mean to be sour, just realistic. This isn’t a high school hallway, after all, and it isn’t one of his fantasy games. Actions have consequences here. He can’t just go diving into bar fights totally unprompted.

He frowns. “I wasn’t trying to kill the guy. I was just trying to make a point.”

“And what point is that?”

“That drunk old creeps should know that you’re way out of their league and leave you alone.”

You sigh heavy, lips pursed. “Look… thanks for what you did, but I don’t need you to defend my honor, okay? I’m a big girl.” 

And that’s true, but if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s also the first time anyone has stepped in to defend your honor. It was stupid and dangerous, but it was also… kind of sweet. Gentlemanly, in a fucked up, small-town kind of way. Maybe you’re just used to fighting your battles on your own.

Somehow, he looks even more deflated than he did before. Maybe he was hoping for a different reaction, a little more enthusiasm. You’re grateful, sure— but you were never a damsel in distress. A damsel in moderate discomfort, maybe. You’re not falling into his arms because he punched a guy in the face.

The thought makes you hesitate, fingers hovering over his skin. Is that what you think he wants? 

Shaking your head, you decide to move on; lighten the mood. “Besides, I get hit on by drunk old creeps all the time. That’s kind of part of the job description, actually.” It doesn’t work; he doesn’t answer. His lips pucker, sucking the split flesh into his mouth, apparently deep in thought. You take this as a cue to work a little more quickly. You’d been taking your time, without realizing, focused more on the conversation, on him. Despite the chilly night, Eddie is warm, alcohol and adrenaline making him run hot. It radiates off of him, draws you in. He smells like lime and salt and motor oil. 

You move on to the blood that has dried under his nose, dabbing halfheartedly. Without realizing, you lean in closer to get a better look, squinting in the dim light. Without realizing, Eddie spreads his legs further apart, making space for you to move in closer. 

“...Yeah, well,” he says eventually, as if he were already in the middle of a sentence, and not ending a long pause. His eyes are on you. You realize it suddenly— then feel foolish, of course they are, you’re right in front of his face— but you can’t help that your ears suddenly feel hot. His fingers are drumming on his knee, restless. “My mom always said you should stand up for the little guy.” 

“Your mom sounds wise,” you say thoughtlessly. “She was.” Oh. Shit. You press your lips together, trying to keep your face even while you swallow the awkwardness rising in your throat. “Sorry.” “No biggie. It was a long time ago.” He shrugs, but doesn’t elaborate any further. It’s the sort of thing you couldn’t have known, wasn’t like you were supposed to know, but you feel bad all the same. And now that you know, it opens the door for a dozen other questions you have. He’s strange, this metalhead that you’d only known from a distance on Tuesday nights. Intense but unreserved; forthcoming but pensive. He shares his most sensitive thoughts freely, but keeps the superficial stuff hidden. You don’t know what to make of it.

Another moment of silence follows. You’re not sure if the lull is comfortable or not. Before today, every conversation you’ve had with Eddie was surface level. Although you’re still only making small talk, it plays at something a little deeper— something you’re not ready to think about too closely. It’s safer to focus on cleaning him up quickly. You’ve been at this for several minutes now, after all, and the vodka must be stinging in his open wounds. You’re not trying to torture him. 

“So,” he says eventually, once again nonchalant. “Are we fired?” “Huh?” “The band. Are we allowed to come back?” “Oh—no, I don’t think you’re fired.” His shoulders slump, apparently relieved. That must be what Gareth and Jeff were so cross about. “Trust me, it’d be too much work to fire you. The manager won't go to the trouble to look for a new Tuesday night act. You should be good.” 

“Good.” He grins lopsidedly. “This is kind of our only real gig, so. I’d go beg on my knees if I had to.” 

You chuckle. “I’m surprised. You guys are good. I thought for sure you must have a weekend gig— somewhere cooler than the Hideout.”

He dismisses this, snickering impassively. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.” 

“Am not!” you promise, “I’m here, like, every night. I see the other bands they hire. You’re good.” He glows. You add, “But you know, you’d probably get a little more traction if you quit assaulting the audience.” 

He laughs again, more genuinely now. “Yeah, probably.” 

This time, you’re certain that the silence is comfortable. He seems less tense than before, but still thrumming with energy— not adrenaline, just his typical vim and vigor. You’re thrumming too, you realize. Fingers and toes tingling with something you can’t quite name. You didn’t have a crush on Eddie Munson when you came out here, but you might be leaving with one.

The time comes to call it; you’ve done all you can do. “There,” you say, leaning back to check your work. His skin is still stained red, but the clotted blood is gone. “That’s about as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Good enough for me.” He reaches up, gingerly touching his eyebrow before brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Thanks.” “Don’t mention it. Like I said… this is the most excitement I’ve had on a Tuesday in forever.” Although, the meaning has slightly changed since the first time you said it. You wring out the bandana, clearing it of excess vodka. He takes it and shoves it somewhere in the recesses of the van— likely never to be seen again, if the state of the interior is any indication.

His eyes flicker from you to his feet, then back. “I know you can handle yourself. But, uh. If you ever need back up, let me know.” Halfheartedly, he smirks. “I might lose, but it’ll make a point.”

The kiss you plant on his cheek is soft. It’s a product of impulse, of lingering guilt and that tingle clawing its way into your chest. You were never a damsel in distress. And you don’t owe him anything. But he cared enough, despite barely knowing you, to step in where he thought someone should. That counts for something. “Thank you,” you murmur— then, poke a finger into the center of his chest. “But don’t do it again.”

And if he’s left there, grinning like an idiot until Gareth shoves him, you don’t need to know.

[powderblueblood]

YES! NO! OKAY! I DUNNO!

ronnie and eddie volunteer at the hawkins high carnival to start their senior year off wrong right. wc: 2.4k warnings: eh, none. swearing. era-typical misogyny and shit. ronnie ecker gay as hell. was this inspired by the opening scene of bottoms (2023)? maybe! mind your business! requested by the lovely @joejoequinnquinn

“The thing is, man, when Ms. Kelley calls, you answer.” Ronnie shrugs through a mouthful of kettle corn and Eddie can almost hear the like Ghostbusters! She doesn’t even need to say it. 

“Kelley did not call you, first of all–”

“--well, no, we met at the market. Which is way more intimate, if you think about it. Romantic.”

“Second of all, this is a total fucking betrayal of your anti-school spirit ethos.” Eddie, with his wound cloud of cotton candy stuck in a cone, gesticulates wildly. Dude’s even scaring away the flies that might dare land on it. "What, you’re all pep squad now because you gotta nosebone some teachers into giving you scholarship recommendation letters? Volunteering for the fucking carnival?” His hands go up, a makeshift bandleader for the jaunty circus soundtrack that twinkles through the humid September air. “What’s next, the Young Republicans?” 

Ronnie’s whole face crushes in disgust. As per usual, she’s overestimated his perception in these matters. Dumbdumb is totally missing the point. 

“Edweiner,” she says, adjusting the strap of her overalls, “What I think you’re failing to essentially recognize here is the fact that–look around!--there are girls here.”

Damn fuckin’ skippy. Cheerleaders, nerd girls, regular girls, artsy girls, band girls, chess club girls, girls all wearing marginally hipper clothing than they usually would. Because the Hawkins High school carnival is prime hunting ground for hookups. 

Not that Ronnie's looking for any such thing, but it doesn't hurt to see how the other half live.

“Yyyyeah, girls that have spent the last four years ignoring u–” 

Okay, ixnay. Ronnie cuts Eddie off right at the knees, shoving a full palm into his face.

“Mmmm, glass half full me for a hot sec,” y’know, god knows what brought this optimism on for Ronnie. Maybe her job directing lowly freshmen toward the gaming booths, maybe it’s the kettle corn that kind of tastes like carpet, but she’s rolling with it, “These are girls that are still in fuck-it-it’s-summer mode. Girls that are entering their senior year of high school. Girls, okay, girls who may have finally realized that the social hierarchies of Hawkins are total bullshit and want to start off their year with a bang.”

She and Eddie stop in their tracks, identical brown eyes staring each other down. 

“A finger bang,” Ronnie encourages.

Eddie blinks, slow and spacey, like a cow.

“Fruuuhm you.”

Again, with Eddie’s shaking of the fucking cotton candy. There’s a wasp trapped in there right now. “Are you fucking high right now? Are you insane?”

“Technically, yes!” Ronnie can smoke and bike, it’s fine. “Hereditarily, jury’s still out!” Eddie sorta cringes at that one, and she smirks. “See, I can make those jokes, because of the loopy mom of it all. You can’t make those jokes.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Cue disheartened shrug. ”But. Y’know. We can leave.” 

Her metalhead comrade grimaces, Reeboks kicking through the grass as a bunch of freshmen scatter in his path. 

Ronnie sighs real big. “We can leave… if you’re too chicken to stay.”

Pump the fuckin’ breaks. Ronnie keeps walking a few paces, intentionally leaving Eddie in her dust.

“Ronald James.”

And then she pivots. All that’s missing is Ennio Morricone playing from the heavens. Or the PA, whatever.

“Edward… ward.”

Eddie squints, his heavy brown knitting furiously. “You just call me a chicken?”

And Ronnie shrugs, cool as crushed ice. “If it walks and it buh-kawks.”

Scoff. Scoff. Scoff. Eddie’s whole torso is wracking with scoffs, he’s like a courtesan dying of consumption with scoffs, he’s about to keel over with scoffs, he quite simply can’t believe–

“Quit hawkin’ up hairballs and square up, pardner!” Ronnie yells. 

Enough with the theatrics! It’s like clicking in a seatbelt, the way their competitive nature with each other activates. Just add chicken and they are off, Eddie flinging his cotton candy to the wayside, the sticky mess hitting a nearby kid. The two of them jostle through the carnival, tracking on up to the sad-looking shooting gallery that’s being manned by one of their greasier classmates that neither of them recognise. Eddie, that big-handed buffoon, beats Ronnie to the punch of slamming down his fluorescent green tickets. 

“Hi! I’d like to shoot to kill, please,” he booms. 

The kid just stares at him, shifting to the left. “‘kay. Whatever. It’s three turns.”

Ronnie rolls her eyes as Eddie slams the pellet rifle into his shoulder– she’s seen his hand-eye coordination, alright? It sucks dick, the dude can barely walk in a straight line. It’s a miracle he can play guitar at all! 

Ptew! The first of the little tin duckies barely makes it away with its life, narrowly avoiding a blow to the head from Munson. Ptew! Second one, not so lucky. 

Eddie, roving around with the rifle for his final victim, yells to Ronnie. “Looks like havin’ a dad with a rap sheet pays off, Ron!”

Ptew! Third and final. Eddie’s face peels back into that terrifier of a grin that’s like, okay, calm down, Bozo the Clown.

“Pfff… beginner’s luck,” Ronnie tuts.  

“Like you’ve ever even held a gun before,” Eddie says and pivots back to the kid manning the booth, who’s passing him his prize. “Hold on, nonono, gimme that bear. The like, the zebra print one. With the fuck me eyes.”

The volunteer carnie doesn’t budge. “You only hit two. The bears are if you hit three. You win green Papa Smurf if you get two.” 

And gingerly, Eddie accepts the little off-brand Smurf. Where do they get this shit? Does it fall off the back of the same truck that carries Bev’s off-brand liquor at The Hideout or what?

Whatever, Ronnie grabs the rifle from him and settles it against her shoulder. She can already hear Eddie tutting like, there’s no way and don’t embarrass yourself, Ron, but the thing is–ptew!--you don’t get to be as good of a drummer as Ronnie Ecker–ptew!--without learning a little precision. 

Ptew!

“What?” she shrugs to an open-mouthed Munson as the pimply kid passes her a big ol’ overstuffed bear, with the fuck me eyes painted on and all (weird feature. Ronnie might regret having this in her bedroom later on), “Like it’s hard?”

Eddie huffs, because that’s a boy that hates to be shown up even if he spends so much of his loser ass time being shown up. But, it’s usually not by Ronnie, so! 

They keep movin’ through the fair, like that old folk song goes, two heat seeking missiles looking to outdo each other. Ring toss? Piss. Cornhole? Are you fucking kidding me? Balloon darts– okay, so they maybe blew their wad a little early by going straight to the gun range but there’s gotta be something… 

Then, Ronnie spots it, because it’s all flailing and water and choking and drama and shit. 

Dunk tank.

She yanks Eddie over by the collar. 

Whoever the poor sucker was that they’d been dunking made an extremely dramatic exit. Ronnie overhears something about, ‘What do you mean, you never asked him if he could swim!’ squawked from the irate mouth of one Nancy Wheeler. Because of course she’s involved in cruise directing this, somehow. Like, where does she get the time? How does she have even a minute gap in her schedule for this? How can someone look so pretty when she’s stressed? 

Then, next thing Ronnie knows, ol’ Blue Eyes Wheeler is walking towards them. Orbs of azure all ringed apologetic and Ronnie’s rooted to the ground, she can’t move, she can’t think– 

–and naturally, Nancy’s looking at Eddie.

“I would usually never, never ask this…”

“He’ll do it.” She says it without hesitation, without thinking, without considering Eddie, like, at all. 

Which naturally makes him bark, “I’ll do what?!”

“Be the dunkee. Be the dunked man,” Ronnie hisses, eyes flicking from a confused Nancy to an enraged Eddie. 

“Oh god, would you? Please?” Nancy asks, almost begging– and look, the girl knows how to turn on the charm. She might not be Eddie’s type, not in eight million bajillion lightyears, but it’s near impossible to say no to her. “You can swim, right?”

“And it’s just about time for his yearly bath! So! Heh!” Ronnie gasps a little too loud for her own good, earning a gravitational pull back from Nancy and Eddie. No? No giggles for that one? Fine.

Eddie just shakes his head, sour expression immovable because he knows there’s no saying no to this– it’s for charity. A dumb charity he doesn’t care about, sure, but it’s for charity and also a girl is asking him and also he is determined to not look chicken. Ronnie knows this. It’s why she keeps winning.

“Yeah, Wheeler, I’ve been known to doggy– hold this,” and Eddie pushes green Papa Smurf into Ronnie’s chest, peeling off his jacket on the ascent to the dunk tank. 

Nancy lingers by Ronnie a second, resting her forehead against her clipboard. 

“Oh, thank god. We might actually make our donation target–like, everybody’s gonna want to drown him.”

A beat. Nancy raises her permed head, glances toward Ronnie.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“You did.”

“Sorry.”

“Eh, I get it.”

Nancy flutters on by, muttering something like a thanks and a good luck and an I really hope he can swim. 

Now, to his credit, Eddie makes for a pretty great picture of defiance as he straddles the plank, still fully dressed in his Hellfire shirt (Ronnie’d call nerd, if she wasn’t also wearing hers) and his shredded up jeans. Then it occurs to her that he may not have completely disrobed because he’s not wearing underwear. And that’s disgusting. Moving on.

Ronnie lets him have it, for a while anyway. Nancy was onto something– an alarmingly hefty line of would-be dunkers start to gather, everyone from cheerleaders to underclassmen trying to prove something. Not to side with the idea of gender conformity or whatever, but the couple of cheerleaders that step up to the mark don’t quite throw hard enough to hit. The sophomore that follows them is thrown off his game immediately when Eddie pretend-lunges at him, devil horns at the ready. 

Gareth, their newest freshman recruit and Ronnie’s personal drum mentee, sidles up beside the tank to hype up his fearless (pffft) leader. 

“Doin’ pretty good up there, Eddie!”

Loud enough for Ronnie to hear, Eddie hollers, “Piece of fuckin’ cake, freshman…” 

“Gareth…” he mumbles.

“...I’m gonna be bone dry ‘til the end of this shift.”

Well, y’know, so like, he asked for it. 

Ronnie tosses their hard won stuffies to the side and elbows a couple of basketball players out of the way. Cue watch it, freak!, yadda yadda, who cares, give her the ball!

“That’s what the last girl who hooked up with you said, right?” Ronnie bats to Eddie, stretching her arms above her head like a pitcher. 

If she’s not mistaken, he’s relieved to see that she’s cut the basketball boys (who’ve got much more experience tossing balls than she does) out of the way. 

“Ecker, I’ve seen you in gym class! You throw like an amputee! Bring it!”

Again, he asked. So Ronnie goes ahead and winds up. 

Eddie, in all of his your ass should have learned by now have you not been watching do you not see the signs ego, turns to Gareth. 

“See, Ronnie doesn’t seem like much of a girl but she does throw like o–”

Boom! And the metalheads goes down into the murky depths, not unlike Gareth’s DnD character that Eddie so mercilessly merked at the last Hellfire session. Ronnie doesn’t hold back a cackle, seeing Eddie resurfacing like a drowned river rat and spluttering. 

“Ffflfpfpfl! Fluke! That was a flu–” he jabs a finger through the mesh to something behind Ronnie’s head, “Wheeler, that was a fluke throw!” 

“Is he floating? Oh, good.” Oh. Nancy’s back. Nancy’s back and she’s watching Ronnie. Oh. Oh that’s… Ronnie makes the grave error of glancing over her shoulder to see Nancy grinning, clipboard bound to her chest. “She’s got two more to prove it, Eddie.” 

“Just take the–” Eddie struggles to make it back to the plank, sodden clothes and all that shit, “Just take the ball because she’s not gonna get–”

Bullseye! See, that’s how you don’t choke in front of a pretty girl and all the rest of your classmates, dude, you just wind it up and get it done! Ronnie’s buzzing with a touch more adrenaline now, and it’s going straight to her mouth. 

“Come again, water boy?!”

“Water boy?” Eddie babbles once he floats upward again, struggling under the weight of, I don’t know, his waterlogged hair to straddle first position.

“‘Cuz you’re wet.”

“Not your best. Not your b–”

Not even a full sentence out and Ronnie’s put him back under again. Hello. Why has she never tried out for softball. Would that be too obvious. This is kind of making her wacky, a little.

“What was that, Munson? Whawassat?” Ronnie stomps as the poor bastard tending to this wretched machine helps a soggy Eddie back onto dry land. “Couldn’t hear you over the sound of women’s rights! Can I hear it for women’s rights?! … Ladies?” 

Zero response. Crickets. Nancy Wheeler’s even disappeared. 

Scooping up their stuffed creatures, Ronnie’s shoulders sag– and she narrowly gets out of the way of Eddie, who’s racing towards her, helicoptering his soaked hair. 

“Don’t be– don’t be shaking your Lassie locks at me like some damn dog! Jesus Christ… my sweater.”

“My apologies to the Gap by way of the Salvation Army,” Eddie sneers, draping a towel over his head as he struggles to put his shoes on. 

“One more?” Because Ronnie’s nothing if not sympathetic, alright? Dude’s drenched. She'll let him win this one.

Squelching, Eddie nods. And just like that, to their left, shining like a beacon with a trail of suckers lined up outside…

“One more… to prove we’re not…” …staffed by a multitude of cute-as-a-button beauties…

“We’re not chicken…” …glowing with the radiant halos of fuck it, it’s summer, fuck it, it’s my senior year…

The Kissing Booth. 

Ronnie and Eddie each wear a thousand yard stare. 

Eddie, for reasons pertaining to freakdom and Ronnie, also that, but jacked up to a degree of potential social pariah. God, could you imagine? Could you imagine if she had the nerve to go completely fuck it, completely hetero-nuclear and march on up there with her dollars in quarters dug out of the couch and be like, Yeah, Tina Burton. Lay one on me. Oh, you’re switching shifts? Oh, that’s okay, I can wait… And who is that? Nancy Wheeler? Well, hell! Isn’t it just my gay lucky day!

Because Ronnie can imagine. Is imagining. 

“But I'm… I’m kinda cold.” In truth, Eddie’s kinda turning blue. That September chill is starting to set in, finally… so it’s back to the parking lot they go. 

“And I’m kinda hungry. You shouldn’t kiss people when you’re hungry, right?”

“No, that’s how they discovered cannibalism.”

“Right. So let’s–”

“--Big Boy Burger?”

“For the big boys, yep.”

[eddiesbigolepp]

its just what you do

synopsis: your occasional hookup is so good that you think you’ve fallen for him, he didn’t know til he got you high.

pairing: eddie munson × cheerleader!reader

warnings: mentions of sex, flirty characters, swearing, suggestive language and behavior, pining, slight angst for like a thirty seconds

word count: 919

a/n: continuation of “goddamn man child”

tags: @myfavoritesareproblematic

you didn’t know what came out of your mouth until you locked eyes with him again.

he was frozen.

whether that was in shock or surprise, you’d never know. he was sure it was your high talking. you honestly couldn’t feel that way about him.

then he laughed.

in your face, he laughed. and your heart dropped to your stomach. your eyes closed, then stayed shut for what felt like forever. then you shot up, straight up, sitting in his bed as you shook your head. you scanned the room searching for cheer uniform he discarded across the room earlier.

he could hear you muttering to yourself, but couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. he was more than concerned now, he was nervous. had you really meant what you said? people always said something about drunk actions sober thoughts but he never really believed them.

you stood off the bed, collecting your things and pulling your skirt up quickly. the stark contrast between the dark band shirt and your bright uniform juxtaposing each other.

“i’ve got to go.” you mumble snatching your bookbag off the floor.

“what?” he stands up, off the bed, and follows you out of the room. you pull on the clean white sneakers you left neatly by the door and ignore him.

“i drove you here, what are you going to do? walk?” he says voice getting louder as he grows more worried. he didn’t even know what problem to talk about first.

“i have two perfectly good legs.” you retort, tying your laces tightly.

“thats like four miles! and its the middle of the night!” he exclaims grabbing your bag to keep you in his trailer.

“let me leave, munson.” it leaves a pang in his chest. you always called him eddie, with that sickly sweet voice. never full of malice or annoyance. but munson? munson was too formal.

too degrading coming from you.

“please, i’ll drive you in the morning. i don’t want you out there alone, and high.” he says, coming close to your face, voice wavering as worry overcomes him.

you don’t dare look up. you don’t want to. you can’t even if you tried. if you did, what you said would be real, and the embarrassment would multiply, tenfold.

instead you grab your bag that hung loosely from his hand, and head straight for the door.

“goddamnit!” he shouts, trying to tug his reeboks on. they were haphazardly thrown about and he couldn’t find the second one.

he chased you out into the trailer park. the cold autumn air nipping at his shirtless torso as he raced to catch up with you.

you practically ran away from the trailer, from the situation, from him.

you knew from the moment he touched that lunchbox it would be a bad idea. he didn’t even mention what you said, he just laughed at you. he didn’t even have the balls to reject you with words. but despite all that, you still longed for him to change your mind.

and the moment he caught up to you, things definitely changed.

he grabbed your arm, and before you could protest, his lips met yours. a rule he created when you first started this situation-ship, no kissing. neither of you were allowed to kiss the others mouth, only the neck down.

he broke his own rule.

his right hand fell from around your elbow to your your own hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. the left finding its way to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to his body.

when you pull away, your gasping for air. its like he kissed all the air out of your body. you stand with your eyes closed for a moment, catching your breath, hands still intertwined together.

“you didn’t even let me say it back.” he whispers, making you open your eyes. you look up, eyes meeting his as your face softens.

“you laughed.” you mumble, lips turning into a frown.

“hello? im high.” he answers, bringing his left hand to your cheek, “how was i supposed to know you weren’t pulling my leg?”

“by knowing, idiot,” you joke, looking up at him with big eyes.

“kiss me again?”

he chuckles, leaning in to press another passionate kiss to your lips. its slow, and sweet. all the heat behind it fueled by his feelings for you.

“you don’t know how long i’ve waited to do that.” he says, pulling away with a lovesick grin on his face.

“you’re telling me,” you giggle, putting you free hand on his chest. “oh my god! you’re freezing,” you speak, using your intertwined hands to drag him back to the trailer.

“get in the bed, you need to warm up before you get sick,” you shoo him to the room as you pull off your shoes and place them in their designated spot. you walk back to the room, shimmying your skirt down once you step through the door.

“you drive me crazy.” he says, watching as you bend over to lift the skirt off the ground. its a view he could get used to, favorite cheerleader in his favorite shirt hanging out in his room.

“i drive you crazy?” you question, sweet smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. you turn back, after placing your skirt on his dresser, and start crawling into bed with him. once you lay on his chest theres a lazy smile stuck on his face.

“its just what you do.”

[piratefishmama]

Eddie dressing for a day hanging out with Steve

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeuxULYA/

i'd say maybe on a modern AU Eddie,

I'm honestly not 100% keen on the 'skimpy Eddie' HC's for Eddie, where he dresses all skimpy shorts an croptops an stuff cause he doesnt STRIKE me as that kind of queer man, he's totally queer coded absolutely, but... in the way where he'd easily just blend within his natural metalhead environment. He wouldnt have to try and blend with the straights of his world, he wouldnt struggle with it, he'd just naturally fit in without making anyone uncomfortable. (especially in his time period where gay men made a lot of people angry and uncomfortable)

Fashion wise he wears graphic baseball tees, ripped denim jeans, heavy leather jackets, that he's customized where the zippers are broke, reeboks and a denim battle vest, he wears so many layers.

Dude wears three layers on his torso, two of which are technically jackets. He wears two jackets as a regular outfit.

an y'know what. Steve "S1 Nancy in her awkward virgin librarian get up was hot to him" Harrington probably thinks thats super hot of him too.

all the more power to you, but it's just not my vibe for him!