#eddy does sound like a name though...

[the-roc-pile]

Hrmmmmm.... I have a very silly idea... a very silly idea where I take this batch of characters I have and make an AU where they are all in charge of the Welcome Home Restoration Project instead of an AU where they are inside of Welcome Home (by @partycoffin).

To be honest (as I cannot be Frank in this context) I don't know how much of this is that psychology personable fable versus my child me who feels the need to act drastically different as I can feel I am moderately different but no one else seemed to pick up on it but either way the thought is worming!

Lol I have three pages of filled notebook paper --including some relationship diagrams-- and about 600 typed-up words about the concept already and it's only an hour old! I thought of it an hour ago and I have generated so many things about it but I must go to bed : / sadly I have courses. I'll see if the idea is still going tomorrow or if I dream about it (I hope so it will give me Ideas).

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne knows eavesdropping isn't the done thing. He's definitely old enough to know better, and he wasn't going to. He had a plan. He was going to walk directly into the living room, so they'd know he was awake, and after he'd fixed his cup of coffee, he'd plopped into his perfectly worn in recliner and subtly glare at the Harrington boy until he squirmed.

Mostly because it amused Wayne, but also just a little sliver of it was because he wanted the Harrington boy to know Wayne didn't think he was good enough for his boy. But only a little! Lord knows that Wayne couldn't do anything to make Eddie change his mind about Steve Harrington, short of Harrington proving Wayne right. Which he doesn't actually want because he doesn't want Eddie hurt.

He's just... He expects it to happen. That's what boys like Harrington do to boys like Eddie. He's seen it enough times to know that this song and dance leave no room for improvisation. Boys like Harrington play around, get their kicks with the devotion Eddie shows them, and then when they've had their fill, they leave.

Boys like Harrington will never be good enough for Eddie, but they always leave with Eddie feeling like he's not enough. Wayne hates it.

Anyway, his plan wasn't to eavesdrop. It's just that Harrington said his name and Wayne found himself standing still instead of continuing.

"Why doesn't Wayne like me?" Harrington asks.

"This again?" Eddie says dismissively, which has Wayne agreeing. His opinion shouldn't have bearing on their friendship.

A deep sigh from Harrington before, "I just. It's- he means so much to you. And, like, I- nevermind. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Hey," Eddie sounds a type of serious that Wayne rarely hears from him, "you're not stupid. And you gotta quit fucking saying that. You say it enough and you'll start to believe it and it's not true."

"Hard to quit feeling stupid when people dismiss my concerns like they are stupid," Harrington snaps back, bitchy as can be. The tone makes Wayne bristle on behalf of Eddie. His boy doesn't reply immediately, though. Doesn't bite back like Wayne's used to hearing. Huh. Maybe he's growing up, just a little.

"You're right, Steve," Eddie says when he finally speaks. "That was dismissive. I'm sorry. Explain it to me. Why does it matter to you whether Wayne likes you or not?"

"Well, because he's your family."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "he is. But that doesn't explain why it matters. I don't care if your parents like me or not."

"That's different!"

"How?" Eddie asks, soft but firm.

"Because their opinion doesn't matter. It's not- It's irrelevant. What they think."

"That makes no sense. Wayne's opinion matters because he's my family, but your parents' opinion doesn't even though they're your family?"

"Yes!"

"But why?" Eddie presses.

"Because they're bad people!" Steve bursts, not quite shouting but close. "Because when bad people don't think highly of you, it's not a fault in you. Their disproval is, like, a compliment. They don't like you because you're too different from them. And that's great! You shouldn't want their approval. It's different, because your uncle is a good person. And when a good person doesn't like you, it is your fault. It's something- it's..." Harrington loses steam here, voice dropping low and defeated, "there's something wrong with me. Something in me that- that he just knows. Senses about me or whatever. Something wrong or rotten or-"

"Steve! That's bullshit. Sure, Wayne's been standoffish, but he'll come around. You're not wrong, or rotten, or whatever else you think you are."

"How do you know that? I was an asshole most of life and what if that's just the real me? What if that's who I'll always be deep down. 'Cause I'm trying so damn hard, man. I'm giving it my all trying to be a better person and it's not enough! Everyone still talks about who I was in high school and even you-" Harrington snaps his mouth closed so hard that Wayne hears the clack of his teeth from his position in the hallway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."

"Steve. This is about more than just my uncle's opinion of you, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I want you, too. I want to know if I've ever done anything to make you feel like you aren't enough."

Wayne really shouldn't be listening. He should back down the hall and into his room. Give them time to talk.

"No, Eddie, you don't make me feel like- that's not what I meant. I just. I'm...."

"Hey, Stevie, you can tell me."

"I'm just so afraid that... That one day everyone will wake up and realize what Wayne already knows. That I'm not good enough for them. For you."

Oh. Wayne really shouldn't be listening.

"I'll admit that Wayne's opinion is important to me, for a lot of things. But not about you. What I feel about you, how I feel about you, isn't dictated by Wayne."

"Sure. I mean, I know that, like, logically or whatever. But it's. I can't convince my brain that you won't just. Hate me one day. And I- fuck, Eddie, I'm already halfway in love with you and-"

"You're in love with me?" Eddie interrupts, sounding awed, starstruck, and Wayne cannot be listening anymore. He backs down the hall silently and back into his room.

Steve Harrington seems to think that he's a good person, but he's not feeling like a good person at the moment.

He's got some thinking to do.

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: When you confide in your boyfriend about your difficulty getting wet, his reaction is not what you'd expected.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), reader takes antidepressants

A/N: To all the afab folks who, for whatever reasons, can't get wet--this is for you.

Collaboration with the queen of fluffy smut, @corroded-hellfire 😘

--

“Feel good, baby?” Eddie growls in your ear, his fingers digging into the skin above the waistband of your panties. His other hand cups your breast, still concealed by your bra, though you venture it won’t be long before it’s uncovered. 

You continue grinding on his bare thigh, his boxers pushed up high. The outline of his cock shows through the cotton, and you can’t help but grab it. He inhales sharply at the sudden contact, making you giggle.

“Love seeing you all turned on, Eds,” you murmur, sucking a bruise into his neck that has his eyes rolling back in his head. He moves his hand from your waist to your clit, pressing slow circles to the sensitive bud over the lace. A moan slips past your lips, quickly turning into a whimper of his name. “F-Fuck, Eddie. Right there.”

Despite your words and the drag of your cunt on his leg, Eddie can’t help but question whether or not you’re faking it. “How ya feelin’ baby?” he whispers, tiptoeing around the more direct question in a means of cushioning his ego. 

“So good.”

Okay. Good. You feel so good. Everything’s…good. Right?

Eddie pulls back, ducking behind his hair and missing your confused expression. “We can stop if you’re not into it,” he mutters. He’s not angry at you; he’s angry at himself, because he’s clearly doing something wrong if you’re not…

“Wh-Why wouldn’t I be into it?” Your eyebrows pinch together. You’d been together a few months and hadn’t slept together yet, but you’d thought tonight could be the night.

“Because you’re not really…” Eddie struggles to find the right words. “Like, you sound into it, but I don’t feel you getting turned on.”

Embarrassment heats up your body. You slide off of him and onto his carpeted floor, repositioning yourself so you’re facing away from him. You can still see him out of your peripheral vision, but you hope he doesn’t notice the tears welling in your eyes. “M sorry, baby.” Your voice is small, and despite your best efforts, it catches in your throat when you speak.

He rests his hand on your upper arm, gently caressing it with his thumb. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, trying to hide his disappointment at the unreciprocated longing. “We gave it a shot. You can’t help if this doesn’t get you going.” He gives a little shimmy, shoulders swaying back and forth clumsily.

You turn back around towards him,  “You think…no, Eds. You’re so sexy, even when you do your weird little dances.”

“I’ll have you know,” Eddie starts, giving you a playful look, “that my weird little dances have gotten me not one, but…yeah, okay, just the one hot girl’s phone number.”

“And it was mine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He reaches for your hand and holds it tentatively. “But if I’m making you feel good, how come you don’t get…y’know…?”

Instinct has you wanting to turn away from him in shame, but his grip on your hand is enough to keep you where you are. It’s hard to meet his eyes, but once you do and that big doe stare tugs at your heart, you let out a sigh.

“You’re making me feel amazing, Eddie. It’s just…I don’t really get…I mean, I can’t get too…” The right words don’t seem to find you and frustration balls up inside of you. You slap your free hand over your eyes, partially out of frustration, but also to hide the tears that are beginning to well up. 

“Hey…” Eddie lightly chides as he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand. “You can talk to me. You know that.”

The hand falls from your face and you take a deep breath. Words jumble through your brain, trying to figure out how to come from another direction. “Y-You know how I have depression and anxiety.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, swallowing before continuing, “the meds they give me for them…they, uh…well, they kind of keep me from being able to get…”

“Wet?” Eddie offers.

You nod, a few tears breaking free despite your attempts to keep them in. 

“I can…a little…just not a whole lot. I’m sorry.” 

Eddie frowns and shakes his head. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because,” you say, huffing a humorless laugh, “you’re so cute and sweet and I’m worried that when we actually have sex, it won’t feel good for you.”

He pauses for a moment, tongue poking out from his lips in the way that makes you melt as he reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a bottle of lube. He holds the small pink tube up between the two of you.

“Think this’ll work?” he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. The bottle is the last thing you expected Eddie to pull out of that unorganized mess he calls a nightstand. 

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

“Well, uh,” Eddie starts, cheeks tingeing pink. You notice he continues to look at the lube instead of you. “I use it every night when I think of you.”

The words take you by surprise, even though he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like you hadn’t gotten off thinking about him long before the two of you even started dating. 

“You…you think of me?”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie shrugs with a grin. “My girl is ridiculously beautiful, you think I’m not going to get off thinking about her every night before I go to bed? And most mornings before school?” He ducks his head and his bashfulness makes him look especially boyish. “Plus, there was all that time before we started dating when we were just friends…”

“So that’s why it’s more than half empty,” you say, a small smile breaking through on your lips. 

“I prefer to think of it as half full.” Eddie’s roguish smile has you breaking out into a full blown grin. You let out a chuckle as you pluck the bottle from your boyfriend’s fingers. 

“I didn’t peg you for a strawberry kind of guy, Munson.”

Eddie looks down with a shy expression on his face. Every time you make him flustered you take it as a personal victory.

“It’s, uh, it’s ‘cause it smells like your chapstick.” He leans up and presses a kiss to your nose. When he sees the effect that has on you, mischievousness creeps back onto his face. “What do you say…wanna give it a try?”

You exhale, still frustrated. The anxiety at the back of your brain is still saying that Eddie is just being nice about this. That he really thinks it’s weird and doesn’t want to have sex with you now.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? With being with someone who needs to use lube?” you double check.

Eddie looks at you with an incredulous expression. “Baby, I’d use WD40 if it meant being inside you.”

A snort of laughter escapes you and you lightly slap his chest.

“Eddie, I’m serious!”

“I am, too! Shit, I’ll go grab some Crisco from the cabinet right now—”

“Eddie!” You sigh. “I know you’re going to wanna have, like, spontaneous sex. That might not be something I can do if we don’t have lube.”

Eddie shrugs without missing a beat. “I’ll carry it around with me. Like pocket lube or something.”

“Pocket lube?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

He laughs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “We can keep this one here, and I’ll buy another one for the van. How does that sound?”

The offer has your heart melting and you lean into his body. “Sounds like you’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” he smirks, tugging gently at the waistband of your panties. “May I lube up the fair maiden?”

“As long as you promise never to say that again,” you say, already climbing onto his bed. 

“Noted,” he agrees with a laugh before turning his attention to the panties that block his view of your beautiful pussy. He drags the lacy fabric down your legs and tosses it aside as you unclasp your bra. A goofy grin spreads across his face as he takes one breast in each hand. “Sorry,” he says, though his tone has no ounce of apology, “but you can’t just show off your tits and expect me to focus on anything else.”

You roll your eyes and giggle, a fluttering feeling in your stomach that goes beyond the moment’s lust. The way he can make you laugh in your most vulnerable moments is special, and you want to capture this joy and keep it forever.  

“Lay back and open these pretty legs for me, Sweetheart.” Eddie squeezes out some lube onto the tips of his forefinger and middle finger, gently pumping them in and out of you, going a bit deeper each time “‘S good?”

“Mhm. So, so fucking good, fuck.” Your walls clench around his fingers in a silent plea for him to be buried deep inside you. 

“Tell me if you need more, okay baby doll?”

You nod, really only able to fixate on the way his fingers feel inside you. The addition of the lubricant removes any unwanted friction, and you moan louder than you intend to. 

“Your noises…holy fuckin’ shit.” Eddie muses, palming himself over his boxers. 

You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. “‘M sorry.”

He pauses his movements, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Don’t ever apologize for making such beautiful sounds. It’s crazy hot, baby.”

“Really?”

He uses his free hand to grab your wrist, bringing your palm to his tented boxers. The fabric strains against his raging erection. 

“Really.”

With that, you let yourself fully indulge in the feeling of his fingers. You barely recognize the noises you’re making; you’ve never felt this good in your whole life. 

The way Eddie’s tongue pokes from his mouth gives you another idea, and you press your thighs together to stop his ministrations. 

He looks up at you, brows knitted together in confusion. “What is it, baby? More?” He starts to reach for the bottle until he sees you shake your head. 

“Do you, uh, w-wanna taste the lube?” It’s as straightforward as you can manage, still overwhelmed by the pleasure washing over your body. 

Eddie’s cock twitches, his face contorted in amused disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me if I want to eat you out?” he asks. “Was it not obvious that that would be a yes?” 

He throws your legs over his shoulders so quickly that it has you laughing in surprise, but that laughter stops as soon as his mouth is on you. His tongue immediately finds your clit, flicking over it until your toes curl. He wraps his lips around it and sucks gently until he has you on the brink of orgasm. His fingers return to your needy hole, filling you expertly until you cum with a wanton moan. 

“So fucking good f’me,” Eddie says, still between your legs. His mouth and chin are covered in a slick sheen. “You wanna taste now, baby? Wanna know just how delicious you are?”

You open your mouth and eagerly accept his fingers. They taste of your arousal and a hint of strawberry; it does bear a striking similarity to your Chapstick. Once Eddie lets his fingers drop from your mouth, you’re whining and writhing below him. 

“Need you, Eds.” It sounds more like a whimper than a plea. But your beautiful boyfriend isn’t about to deny you a thing—let alone something that he also wants very badly. 

“Fuck, need you too, baby doll.” He launches his boxers across the room and smears some lube on his cock, bucking his hips slightly into his closed palm. He doesn’t break eye contact as he enters you, searching for any inkling of discomfort. The stretch is delicious, and you arch your back once he bottoms out. 

“Look at you, taking all of me. My good girl,” Eddie growls, watching his cock disappear into your cunt. “Holy shit; I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this perfect pussy from me.”

You shiver at the praise, blinking away the prickling tears on your lash line. 

Eddie gradually picks up the pace, snapping his hips into you. His pubic hair grazes yours and he lets out a groan of his own. 

“Could stay like this forever,” he mumbles in your ear, forearms braced on either side of your head. 

So could you. Except…

“Eds?”

“Hmm?”

You swallow your timidness. I can trust him. “I think, um…could you use some more lube?” You’re embarrassed and annoyed at yourself for having to interrupt the moment, but Eddie’s unfazed. 

“Sure. Can I just put it inside you? Cuz, uh, if I put it on my dick, I’m gonna bust in my hand.” He gives a small laugh, though you both know he’s not joking. 

Eddie gingerly fingers you, all-too aware of how oversensitive and overstimulated your pussy is. At some point, he’ll have fun teasing you with his touch, but tonight is about your comfort. 

He slides his cock back inside you. “Better?”

“Much,” you manage, re-acclimating your body to him being inside you. “Thank you, baby.”

“‘Course. Let me know if you need more again, ‘kay?”

You nod, relishing in the way he fills you. His cock presses against your walls; you can feel every last inch of him.

Eddie doesn’t stop showering you with praise as he pistons his hips. “Love when my girl tells me what she needs,” he says with a small smirk. “I’d do fuckin’ anything for you, sweet thing.” A few strands of hair cover his eye, and you swipe it away. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You manage a smile of your own before he catches you off guard, positioning you so he can rub your clit while fucking you. Your jaw drops in surprise; it’s exactly the reaction he wanted. “Just like that, Eds. Holy shit, right there!”

“That’s what you like? Hmm? Like when I’m deep inside your perfect pussy, making you feel good?” The hand not making small figure-eights on your swollen bud grabs your ass, squeezing it possessively. “Like when I claim you? Let me show you who you belong to.”

The combination of Eddie deep within you and being claimed by him pushes you over the edge. The coil snaps and you choke out a sob of relief as pleasure invades your body. You finish on his cock, chanting his name like a prayer. 

“Fuck, c-can’t hold out anym-more,” he grunts, and with a cry of your name, he fills you with his own release. He stays inside you for a moment, catching his breath; when he finally pulls out, you can feel his cum dripping down your bare thigh. He hurries to grab the faded blue towel hanging from the back of his door, wiping you off before plopping next to you. He draws tiny circles on your forearm while pressing kisses to your shoulder. 

“Was that good? It didn’t hurt or anything, right? Because I kinda lost my mind at the end—” 

You silence him with a kiss that only ends because you both start smiling. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had. No one’s ever made me cum before,” you admit. 

Eddie scoots back slightly. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. You’re the first. So, um, thank you?”

He puffs out his chest, slick with perspiration. “No need to thank us, baby. We’d do anything for you.”

“‘We?’” You cock your eyebrow. 

“Yeah, me and the lube,” he states plainly, as if this is an obvious fact. “We make a pretty good team, dontcha think?”

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”

“I dunno, I thought my ‘pocket lube’ idea was pretty damn brilliant.”

--

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

That's What Friends Are For- E.M.

I've been really thirsty for Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie so I poured myself this taaaallll drink of water. Hope you love it xx

You've never had an orgasm, and Eddie would be happy to help remedy that.

Part 2

Masterlist

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI!! Cursing, mentions of smoking, heavy petting, pet names (angel, sweetheart), a lil crying (but in a good way), fingering (lmk if I missed any)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,802

(Gifs not mine, credit to owner!)

It wasn’t something that you’d normally ask, but with the haze of weed clouding your senses and the exaggerated moans of the poor actress being exploited for the dumb action movie you and Eddie were watching out of sheer boredom, you couldn’t help yourself. You turn to Eddie, the cogs in your head turning in overtime as the words reach your mouth before you can even put too much stock in them, “What does an orgasm even feel like?” Your eyes narrow as you imagine it, the sounds of the woman on screen echoing in your mind. There’s no way that real people sound like that, no, this is just some stupid movie that you and Eddie had never even heard of before digging it out of the pile of tapes beneath the TV. “I mean, I guess it’s gotta feel good, but does it feel that good?”  

While you ponder the probability of the sounds onscreen being at all accurate for real-world scenarios, Eddie’s face pales, the light high he’d been enjoying completely knocked out of his body at your words. Despite being best friends for the past several years, you never really talked about your sex lives with each other. For you, it was because it didn’t exist. For Eddie, it was because the only person he really wanted anymore was you. Every other person in town combined couldn’t interest him half as much as you, and he had definitely looked. Pining after your best friend for years wasn’t really something Eddie was interested in doing, not that it helped. Of course, the only reason you hadn’t made a move—aside from the fact that you were thoroughly terrified at the thought of being rejected—was because you thought that Eddie was something of a ladies’ man. You knew he was much more experienced than you, not that that was a difficult feat, but you knew that he at least went on dates. And you never wanted your attraction to him get in the way of your friendship anyway. If he liked you, he would’ve made a move sooner, right?  

Wrong. 

Eddie had fallen head over heels for you about a year after you had met, both of you juniors in high school. You went away with your family on vacation for a couple weeks that summer and came back... different. You were more confident, and even though it had only been a short separation, you looked different, more womanly than gangly teenager. He liked you before, but some switch inside his chest flicked, like the lights were finally turning on in some long-forgotten roller coaster ride. He’s had it bad for you ever since, suffering in silence because he knows how shy you used to be, and still are to some extent. He would never, ever want to do or say anything to make you uncomfortable, including putting his feelings on the line in exchange for your amazing friendship.  

Still, the news that you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like was surprising. He knew you were private about your dating life, and he always respected that. But you had had boyfriends before. And you were both in your early 20s now. Surely you had been with one of them. Or even figured it out on your own... 

“What?” is the brilliant response that flies from Eddie’s lips as his brain short circuits. You look back at his face, having wandered away, lost in thought. Eddie half expects you to backtrack, but still, to his surprise, you double down. 

“What does an orgasm feel like?” He can tell your Mary Jane consumption must be fueling this line of questioning, but if you’re really curious... 

“Um, well...” Eddie flounders, trying to find the words to say. You keep your focus on him, your thoughts trailing only slightly as you wait for him to respond. “It... It does feel really good. I don’t know exactly what it feels like for women, but for guys, at least, for me, it’s like my whole body kind of explodes, but in, like, the best way,”  

You mull this over for a moment, your eyes darting between Eddie’s face and the screen, which has since moved past the over-exaggerated sex scene back into shootouts between the good guy and the bad ones. “Okay, well, have any of the girls you’ve been with ever sounded like that?” You were genuinely curious, trying to imagine what could feel that good and coming up blank. 

Eddie chuckles a bit, eyes flicking up in a memory, “Well, one, but I’m pretty sure she was faking. Some women think they have to sound like that because that’s what the movies show them they’re supposed to sound like. But really, there are all different kinds of... sounds... that people make when they’re feeling that good,” he explains, his surprise relaxing now into amusement just slightly. 

“Oh,” You look back at the screen, apparently done with your questions. Eddie feels his heartbeat fading back into its normal rhythm after the near heart-attack you had inflicted upon him, and things go quiet for a minute before you turn your head back toward him, mouth poised open to speak. “Do you think—Never mind,” You quickly shove the thought back down your throat, remembering that Eddie’s not supposed to know you’ve been in love with him forever.  

The possibilities of what you were about to ask him makes his heart race again, until he’s burning to know. “What is it?” He asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. 

Your lips press together and shake your head as a heat spreads over your face, giving you a moment of clarity amid the warmth of the high. “No, it’s okay, it was a dumb question,” You wave your hand in dismissal, and pray that Eddie doesn’t press it further in fear of your mouth working faster than your logic. Of course, you have no such luck. 

“There are no dumb questions. If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask. Would I ever judge you for anything? And really think about that, because I’ve seen you pick a pickle up off the floor and eat it,” He laughs, trying to diffuse the tension. It helps a little, and with his reassurance and that fleeting moment of clarity far away, you open your mouth again, hesitating as you find the right words. 

“Do you think... that you could maybe... show me?”  

Eddie’s eyes bulge from his skull, and he’s afraid that his heart has totally stopped for a minute. But after an agonizing moment, a thick thump of his heart breathes life back into him, and he can only pray that you can’t hear it as it loudly thump, thump, thumps in his chest.  

“Show you..?” It’s a begging question. He’s not exactly sure which part you want to learn, and he wants to make sure he doesn’t assume anything. 

You turn away again, the mortification laying over you in a thick blanket. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have... You can forget it,” 

Eddie doesn’t want to mess this up, and the visions of you making such pretty little sounds for him, or better yet, unraveling under his touch, automatically send all of the spare blood in his body downward, so quickly that he almost becomes dizzy. He has to make an effort to shift his body to hide his growing erection as he tries to reassure you. “No, no! Don’t worry, I’m listening. It’s okay, I swear! What do you want me to show you? I... I can do my best,” His voice is sincere, sincere enough to make you look sheepishly back at him, your lashes low as you try not to look in his eyes. 

You take a deep breath, your head buzzing with adrenaline as you form the words. “Would you show me how to have an orgasm?”  

Eddie swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. He’s trying so hard to make this seem as chill as possible, for both of your sakes. If he gets too eager too quickly, there’s no way he wouldn’t just bust in his pajama pants, and he might scare you. His mouth is dry as he nods quickly, “Um, yeah. I- I can definitely try,” He watches as your face grows redder by the second, but you give a small smile, one that makes Eddie lightheaded again as another shockwave of want shoots through his half-hard cock. “Do you want to go to my room?” He asks softly, gauging the look on your face as you still avoid his eyes.  

“Yeah,” You murmur, but your legs won’t move. There’s a want in you, despite not knowing how to indulge it, and as Eddie gets up from the couch, offering a hand to you, you take it and squeeze, finally looking up at him. Eddie feels like he might faint in that moment, your hazy eyes doe-like and innocent, not making it any easier for him to keep calm. He pulls you up to your feet and you follow him, your hand in his, to his room.  

You shut the door behind you, flicking the lock on the knob despite being the only ones home, and turn to face Eddie, who stands just behind you, still not believing what might happen. “S-so, um...” He begins, feet shuffling beneath him. “For girls, it’s a lot harder to... finish. It takes a lot of warming up first,” Your brow furrows. 

“Warming up?” A blush breaks out over Eddie’s cheeks, and he reaches out to let his fingers trace up your arm, ghosting over your shoulder and up your neck. A breath hitches in your throat as his palm cups your face, and suddenly, you think you might know what he means. Nevertheless, he explains. 

“It’s a lot easier when you’re feeling good from other things first. Like touching, kissing... things like that. It can be painful if you don’t do it right,” Your lashes flutter as he leans in slightly, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face. 

“Oh,” Eddie lets out a breath of a laugh at your breathless response, and already you feel yourself turning to putty in his hands.  

“I want you to tell me if you don’t like something, okay? Don’t try to spare my feelings. If you want me to stop doing something, or you want me to do something specific, you tell me. Okay?” The demanding edge in his whispers snaps you back to reality, and you feel a warmth building deep within you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Sure, shadows of this have been felt watching risqué movies with sex scenes or kissing your prior boyfriends awkwardly in the backs of their cars, but that pales in comparison. This is a new, deep burn in the very depths of your body. 

“Mhmm,” You try to lean closer to him, to feel more, but his other hand goes to your waist, holding you in place. Your eyes meet his, and they’re unexpectedly hard, his brown eyes serious as he looks at you. 

“I need you to say it. I need to know you can say it,” Your breath stutters again at his words, but still, you find your voice. 

“I- I don’t like that,” You whisper, and it’s all you can do. Eddie nods in approval, but his eyes want you to continue, “I want you... I want you to kiss me,” You can hear the hammer of your heart in your ears, your blood singing as the anticipation grows. Eddie’s eyes return to their normal softness, gazing into yours like he’s seeing the sun set over the ocean for the first time.  

“Are you sure?” Eddie whispers as he inches toward you, his face leaning down ever closer. This might be the closest you’ve ever been to him, and the thought sends a delicious shiver up your spine. His nose just brushes yours, and your eyes flutter shut. 

“I want you to kiss me, Eddie,” It’s barely a breath, but he hears you, and gently, gently, his lips meet yours, barely a brush of skin against skin. You hear him suck in a deep breath before letting his lips move against yours a little more firmly, the hand on your waist snaking around your back to pull you closer to him. You let your hands find the back of his hair, which is up in a cute, messy bun, and your fingers wind themselves around a few loose, curly tendrils there. Then, Eddie’s lips move across your cheek, down toward your jaw, and the first sound comes loose from your lips. 

It’s a tiny noise, but it might as well have been Eddie’s favorite song, the way he revels in it. He can feel the pounding of your heart in your chest as you press yourself against him, not really knowing what to do other than let Eddie work his way down your neck with his lips. “E-Eddie...” You whimper, hands gently grasping at the fabric at the back of his worn t-shirt.  

Eddie stops then, immediately, waiting for your instruction. He had gone too far, hadn’t he? He had done something to make you uncomfortable and now you’d never ever talk to him again... “Can we lay down?” You ask, breathy and quiet in his ear. He presses a firm kiss to the top of your shoulder in relief, elated that you were enjoying what was happening before pulling away. 

“Yeah, let’s get you comfy,” He smiles one of those easy, lopsided smiles that takes your breath away, and you feel the butterflies that usually reside in your stomach move downward to your core. You instinctively clench your thighs together to try to squash the foreign feeling, but as Eddie moves to lay down, you see the bulge in his loose pants, and it sends a new swarm flooding your body. With a deep breath, you join Eddie and lay next to him, his face only inches from yours. His hand reaches toward your face, gently brushing a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Do you want to just keep kissing, or are you ready to try something else?” He asks. You think it over, biting the inside of your lip as you bite back the embarrassment of being so inexperienced next to him.  

“Can we try something new and still do some kissing?” You smile sheepishly, not being able to hold his gaze as your face heats. He lets out a small laugh, not at you, but because you’re so nervous. 

“Yeah, we can do that. Is it okay if I touch you? I can just try a few things and you can figure out what you like,” He suggests, his eyes roaming over you. You’re not wearing a bra, because you never did when you and Eddie were just lounging around watching movies and smoking, something Eddie had to get used to quick when your body started really developing. Once or twice when he was a few years younger, he had to fake an upset stomach just to relieve his aching cock in the bathroom upon seeing your pert nipples through the fabric of one of his old t-shirts. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that,” With your permission, Eddie’s fingers gently reach the hem of your shirt, slipping under and running his calloused fingertips over the smooth skin of your side. You let out a gasp, your eyes screwing shut, and he notices the way your hips move of their own accord, trying to scratch an itch you’ve never felt before. He has to bite back a moan of his own just at the sight of you, so beautiful, so willing beneath his capable hands. He lets out a shaky breath as his hand moves up your side, leaning in to kiss you like he said he would, like he was aching to do again, and you accept his lips greedily, your hands pressing into the sides of his face as he glides across your skin, not light enough to tickle, but enough to send tingles over your skin, goosebumps forming in the wake of his caress. 

When his hand comes to cup your breast, not daring to flick over the sensitive nub just yet, you let out your second noise as he gives a little squeeze there. This one is muffled by his lips, pressed firmly to yours, and the vibration of it shoots straight down to his cock, which twitches willfully in his pants, wanting you more and more every second that passes. 

With a light touch, Eddie lets his thumb just brush your nipple, and it sends an electric shock through you, leading to your third noise, a much sharper sound that almost sounds painful. But when your lips press into his even harder, Eddie is only spurred on and he does it again, then lets his full hand grope over the full mound, rubbing across your breast with his palm. Eddie lets his tongue trace over your bottom lip then, and you open your mouth to him, not really knowing how to kiss with tongue, but unwilling to stop to make a comment about it as your body ignites to a new level of fire and electricity.  

Your legs are continuously rubbing together now, the friction glorious but not enough, and you want to feel more. You’re panting in between the long stretches of kissing, and while you don’t want to stop, you also need to tell Eddie what you want. So, instead of rushing back to his kiss, you press your thumb gently to his bottom lip, pupils blown with need. “Can you take my shorts off?” You ask, your confidence building. Eddie nods all too eagerly, and he gets up onto his knees to shift town toward your bottom half. You roll onto your back and lift your butt to make it a bit easier for him, his hands finding purchase at your hips, fingers dipping just below the waistband when he stops. 

“Do you want me to take your underwear off too?” He asks, wanting to be sure. You bite your lip again as the embarrassment floods back. 

“I’m not wearing any...” You admit, giving a small smile. His hands grip at your hips a bit harder then, and his sharp breath only helps your growing need. This is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen him, towering over you like this. You can see the long outline of his length through his pants now, and you let your mind wonder what could happen if this goes even further than you originally intended. It’s enough to make your hips roll in Eddie’s hands as he starts pulling down your sleep shorts. You close your eyes, trying to keep your embarrassment from making you chicken out when you’re finally about to get what you’ve always wanted. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, and your eyes shoot open as you stare at him, mortification building in your chest. 

“What? Is it bad? Do I look weird?” You ask in a flurry. Your hands go to cover your face, thighs clenching together to spare yourself when Eddie pries your legs apart again. 

“What? God no! You look... You look fucking amazing,” There’s a wonder in his voice, and you peek through your fingers to find him staring down at you, the look on his face amorous, hungry almost, like you’re his favorite meal in the world. It takes you aback, but nevertheless, there’s a twitch in your hips again, seeking a friction that you can no longer achieve for the time being. Eddie gently lowers himself on top of you, and you let out a moan when you feel the fabric of his pants brushing over your bare pussy. You let your hands fall as you try to push yourself into him, but there’s a hand holding onto your hip now to keep you down. “Oh my god, please, can you try not to do that right now? I am already in serious danger here, angel. If I feel even a little bit of you against my dick I’m fucking done for,” Eddie breathes a laugh to cover the moan in his voice, his face hovering over yours. 

“B-but I want—” Eddie cuts you off with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing into your hip as you desperately try to feel him against you again. 

“Not tonight, sweetheart. I want this one to be about you, okay? If you still want to in the morning, we can circle back,” Eddie offers, and you give a small nod. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch you now, okay? I’ll go nice and slow. If you want me to change what I’m doing, just tell me,” You nod again and the hand gripping your hip travels down and his lips meet the hollow of your neck, giving just a tiny nip at the skin that sends your hips up again in need. Eddie tries to hold it in, but he can’t help but moan softly against your skin as he continues his journey.  

His fingers ghost just over the sensitive bud of nerves then, and the shock that goes through your body is even more intense than before when he was playing with your nipple. Your arms fling around his back and you grip the fabric of his t-shirt like a lifeline. “I’m gonna take good care of you,” Eddie whispers as he travels up your neck, “I’m gonna make you feel so good,”  

The promise is punctuated by a soft circle around your clit, and your whimper is so pathetic it startles you as it tumbles from your lips. You can feel how wet you are now; how hot your core is against his fingertips. It’s so blissful, so wanton that you feel your walls clenching around nothing, another new feeling that sends your head reeling. Eddie continues his gentle pattern around your bud, sucking sweet bruises into the skin below your ear between whispers of sweet nothing that spur you forward on your quest into the unknown world of this beautiful feeling. 

“E-Eddie,” You plead, head thrown back in pleasure. Your fingers pull his shirt so that your hands connect with his skin, “Can you go—Can you go a little f-faster, please?” Eddie nods into the crook of your neck as he complies, fingers moving just a bit faster, a bit firmer against you, and your chest starts heaving in pants again, moans spilling from your mouth more freely now. You grind into his hand pathetically as the intense pleasure grows. You feel like you could cry at the feeling, so blissful and beautiful and everything you’ve ever dreamed of as Eddie works you further and further, his lips only ever leaving your skin to whisper sweet nothings to you. 

“You’re doing so good... I can’t believe I get to do this for you... Been wanting you like this for so long...” Eddie nips and sucks and licks across your neck, up your face, across your lips, and you’re just so consumed by him that you feel hot little pinpricks in the corners of your eyes, your throat going thick as the tears begin. 

When Eddie catches sight of the first one, he slows his work on your core, afraid that you had changed your mind. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” You feel a pang of panic then, not really knowing why but knowing that you were desperate to reach the edge you were approaching. You pull at his shirt, not being able to verbalize your excruciating need for a second. 

“No, no!” You plead, “Don’t stop, please... I just... Please don’t stop...” You don’t know why you’re crying. Maybe because it feels so good, maybe because the emotions are just so new that your body is startled by them. Either way, Eddie is reluctant but believes you, because he trusts you and you trust him so completely that you don’t think that there’s any way that either of you would or even could hurt each other. 

Eddie picks up the pace again, his lips focusing on yours now to help keep you from crying. Your fingernails scratch up his back as you whine and writhe beneath him, coming closer and closer to something. There’s a tenseness in your stomach now, and it’s building. There must be a precipice close, a pinnacle to all of this pleasure and need Eddie has been giving you. Your panting breaths become more ragged, and Eddie gets the feeling that you’re close. 

“That’s it, angel. You gonna cum for me?” He practically moans against your mouth, and it’s another agonizing minute of this pressure inside you building before you feel it.  

Your hands clench Eddie’s shirt as you unravel. Your tears are flowing freely down your face, mouth open in a loud moan that reverberates on the walls of Eddie’s small room. Eddie keeps drawing circles over your clit as you ride through the waves of your first ever orgasm, kissing down to the top of your chest and back up to add to the pleasure. Finally, you feel it start to subside, the wide waves lessening into ripples as your breath starts to even out again. Eddie slows down again, and finally stops after a few more seconds, wanting to draw out your bliss as much as he can. He kisses you deeply, the hand on your pussy traveling up to grip your side, sliding up past the hem of your shirt as he holds you firm. You can feel the slick on his fingers cooling down on your skin, and it sends a new wave of shivers through your body.  

You kiss each other for a long time, not wanting to go back to reality where you’re just friends, but finally you have to pull away for air. You look at each other, both of you quiet. There’s a new electricity in the air, charged with the anticipation of what you’ll say to each other now that everything has changed.  

“How was that?” Eddie settles on, his brow set in a concerning furrow. He wants to make sure that you had the best experience he could’ve offered you, because that’s what you deserve. You deserve to feel this good all the time. 

Your soft eyes bore into his and you nod slowly, trying to etch every detail of this night into your memory forever. “It was amazing. You are...” Your hand comes to hold his face, and he leans into your touch in such a way that your heart melts for him even more. “You’re so amazing, Eddie, thank you.” You give a little laugh then, at how silly it sounds for you to thank your friend for giving you an orgasm. Eddie laughs a little too, and he stretches his lips to kiss the edge of your palm. 

“Anything for my favorite girl,” He whispers, smiling that easy smile that you love so much. Pride sparkles in your chest at his words. God, you love him so much... 

“So...” You feel a blush creeping on your face again, “You’ve been wanting me... like this?” You think back to the words he whispered against your neck that made your insides turn to mush. 

Eddie flicks his eyes away from you, embarrassed. “You caught that, huh?” 

“Was I not supposed to?” You giggle, your smile sending shockwaves through Eddie’s body. 

“Well, I just didn’t think you would. You seemed to be pretty distracted if I recall,” He jabs playfully, his gaze returning to you. His eyes soften at his next thought, “What do you think about that?” 

This is it, this is where everything changes. It’ll never be the same after this. “I...” You begin, building your courage. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”  

Eddie’s face moves through confusion, surprise, and then settles on joy, his smile widening to reach his sparking brown eyes. “Yeah? You’ve been wanting that too?” Your smile matches his as you nod, letting out a breath of a laugh with the relief settling in your chest. 

Suddenly, Eddie squeezes you in a bone crushing hug, peppering kisses over your face as you giggle. His lips settle on yours again, and it’s like taking a drink of cool water after wandering in the desert. You don’t know if you’ll ever get used to this, but by God, you’d be happy to. 

You keep kissing and cuddling for a long time, talking like you usually do, how best friends do, but now it’s just better. Best friends, but there’s no more hesitancy, no more wishing for more, because now, you have everything you could ever want. 

[myeuphoricmindset]

Let me remind you

(middle photo credit: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

Paring | Eddie Munson x fem!blind reader

Summary | Reader is blind and Eddie is utterly obsessed with you, going out of his way to play you music and read to you. It’s simply a friendship, but he can’t stop himself from crossing the line.

Notes/tags | That’s correct, the reader is blind. I do not mean to write this in any way that would be insensitive; I just loved the idea of seeing Eddie care for someone who has a disability. The way he would be so sweet and go above and beyond. If this fic rubs anyone the wrong way or makes anyone uncomfortable, please let me know, and I’ll remove it. My intentions are pure. It’s a very sweet fic with the vibes of what it feels like to be young and in love. — No smut, but there is making out, and it feels very sensual. Also, cheesy AF.

I do switch back and forth with povs, don’t expect this to go by the writers rules.

— Oh, I listened to Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine while writing this. But what’s new? I always write Eddie fics to that song, even years later.

Word count | 2.1k

Eddie always met you outside. He waits on his porch, finishing his cigarette, and the moment he sees you approaching, he gets up quickly to close the distance, taking your hand to guide you to his place. He loves the excuse to touch you. He’s not greedy either; just your hand in his makes him secretly giddy. He’s focused on it the whole way to his room, even though he’s talking your ear off about a new song he wrote.

Nothing about this is new or different. Eddie inviting you over to play music and talk well into the night has become normal. A friendship that never crosses the line, but Jesus Christ, he thinks of crossing the line all the time. He wonders if your touch would feel different if it was reaching out with love instead of friendship. He doesn’t dare feed into his thoughts of how your kiss would feel and if his name would sound different if you moaned it into his ear.

He admires you as he strums his guitar, only half-focused on the song. By now he’s memorized every curve of your face and has counted every lash on your eyes. It feels wrong to stare, knowing he can’t be caught. Can you feel his gaze?

You’re lying in your usual spot on his bed, surrounded by his scent in the sheets. You try to hide the deep inhales you take as if it were the last time you’d be here. But, it’s not. You’ll be back tomorrow, as you always are.

He plays beautifully, and you try not to smile because he plays softer for you than he does during his shows. Is he nervous to scare you off? He never could.

“I love it,” you say as he finishes the song.

He smiles, and you know because it’s laced with his voice, “You do?”

The sound of his guitar being placed on the wall mount is familiar, followed by the radio on his dresser being turned on. It’s only for background noise. Eddie hates silence, and you can’t help but wonder if he just doesn’t like to sit with his thoughts.

You both lie on his bed in deep conversation with no sense of time. Eddie lazily plays with small strands of your hair with the hand draped behind his head. Does he realize that you notice every time he does it? It makes your stomach flutter.

“Read to me?” you ask as you shift onto your stomach, feet rising up behind you.

Eddie takes a moment to speak, but you hear his breath hitch, and when he does speak, his breath is warm against your face. He shouldn’t be surprised by your question as he reads to you every night, but maybe it’s the way you’re closer to him than before.

Your bodies aren’t touching, but there is a sense of intimacy with the way he’s lying on his back, most likely looking up at you, and the way you’re on your stomach, nearly looming over him.

Unsure if he’s uncomfortable by the way his breathing becomes uneven, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your water, trying to make it seem like you’re giving him a little space. When you return to your position, you’re a few inches away from him.

You realize you were wrong about him feeling uncomfortable because when Eddie grabs The Return of the King off his dresser, he returns to the bed even closer than before.

His arm touches yours as he lies back on the bed, and you can’t take your mind off of it. It gently moves against yours as he turns the page.

“Now, where were we?” he says as the sound of pages turning fills the room. “Aha, here it is.” His smile is audible in his words. “You’ll like this part.”

Eddie begins to read. His voice is like honey, sweet and soothing to your ears. He makes you giggle occasionally with his exaggerated voices for certain characters. His laughter matches your own, and even though he’s read this book a hundred times, it feels like he’s experiencing it for the first time with you.

As he continues, there’s a subtle change in his tone that you can’t quite place until you listen closely to the words. Two characters in the book kiss, and the way Eddie reads the description makes your stomach flutter more than the romance he’s narrating. You feel your cheeks heat up and lower your head to your arms to hide it.

Eddie chuckles softly, saying your name, “Are you blushing?”

“No!”

You bury your face deeper into your arms, breathing in his scent from the sheets. You would give anything to sink into the mattress, completely enveloped by his smell.

He calls your name again, clearly amused by your reaction. His fingers find your sides and he starts tickling you, forcing you out of hiding. You burst into laughter, trying to grab his hands to push him away, but your laughter only encourages him.

“Look at you. You’re so red you might pop,” he teases, continuing to tickle you.

“Stop,” you manage to say between fits of laughter.

You struggle to fight back, and Eddie laughs at your attempts. Your stomach begins to hurt from the laughter, your breathing becomes ragged, and your hair covers your face from the tussle.

Both of you finally give up, gasping for air. Eddie plops down beside you, the weight of his body next to yours so familiar that you long for it when you’re alone in your own bed.

“I’ve never seen you blush that hard before,” he says, amused.

You can feel his stare, which only makes you blush more. “Can you stop?” you groan, playfully shoving his arm.

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me. I can feel it.”

He scoffs, “I’m not staring at you.”

You sit up and demand his bandana. He protests in confusion, but once he understands, he relents. Sitting up directly in front of you, you lift your chin with a sense of victory.

“Because I don’t believe you, this is what I must do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, pretending to be exasperated though he’s smiling like a fool. “If this pleases you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. Reaching out, your fingertips touch the corner of his mouth, feeling it curve up against your touch. His face is smooth, and you take advantage of the moment to trace your fingers across it, finding their way to his hair. He remains silent, but his breathing is slightly heavier—something only you would notice.

His hair is soft, and you resist the urge to twirl his curls around your finger. Instead, you wrap the bandana around his eyes and tie it tightly behind his head.

“Oh,” he says with surprise, followed by a chuckle. “A little tight, huh?”

“Can’t have you peeking.”

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks.

Your hands drop into your lap as you smile. “Mm, I’m still deciding.”

But that was a lie. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. There were many people you trusted to be alone with, but as you’ve spent time with him, he’s proven that you’re safe with him. The best feeling is being completely vulnerable and knowing without a doubt that the person you count on with your vulnerability handles it with care.

“So, this is what it’s like for you?” he asks softly.

“Something like that.”

The room is silent, the radio off since before he started reading the book you’ve both abandoned. The only sounds are his breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioning. But you notice the parting of his lips and the sudden, yet soft, intake of breath as if he were going to say something but decided not to.

“What is it?” you ask.

He clears his throat as if caught and takes a breath. “Can you…touch me?” You’re nearly taken back by that until he speaks up in a rushed sentence. “Uh, sorry, I —uh, I mean, my arm or face. Show me how it feels for you.”

Your heart warms at his request. And you gladly give him what he wants. Your fingers meet his face again and you admire all the softness. You trace the lines and curves, imagining if he’s as beautiful as he feels. Eddie sits there still for a while, softly breathing.

Then his hands grasp your wrists and lower them to your lap. “My turn,” he says as his fingers begin to move up your arms. Goosebumps break out over your skin, and you try your best to control your breathing, knowing he can hear if it catches in your throat.

His calloused fingers brush against your soft skin, but you don’t mind. One hand drops from your arm and takes hold of one of your hands. You fight back a smile, knowing his fingers tracing your features are close enough to feel your reaction. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. It feels incredibly intimate, just the sound of his breathing matching yours as time seems to slow.

He breaks the silence. “You’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks out on your face. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you look like.” His tone is serious yet soft, almost as if he’s in deep thought.

He lets go of your hand and cups your other cheek. Your face fits perfectly between his warm hands.

“Eddie…” you say, wanting to ask what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. But your words fall short as you feel his thumb brush over your bottom lip.

“Tell me you feel this.”

He doesn’t mean his gentle touch on your lips, and you know that. The electrical current between you two could light up Hawkins. He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his chest. Your breath catches at the feeling of his heart thumping wildly against your palm. It’s so strong that you think it might burst out of his chest and right into your hands.

“Yes,” you answer him.

“Tell me I can kiss you.”

Your stomach flutters so fast that you feel like you could float away. “Yes.”

There is a moment of stillness in the room, time frozen. The sound of you both breathing dulls out and you lose feeling in your cheeks at his touch as you await his lips on yours.

He’s so gentle and slow. His lips meet yours and you welcome it, nearly melting into him. The kisses are soft and lazy, as if you both are drunk off each other. Your hands are in his hair and he moans at the feeling. Heat forms in your lower belly and you can’t help yourself when you crawl into his lap.

“Yes,” he breathes as he welcomes you into his embrace. His arms wrapping tightly around your back, rubbing his hands up and down your back while still kissing you.

His tongue brushes your lower lip and you open your mouth to taste him. He’s perfect. He’s all you feel and taste, nearly drowning in him. His bandana is still tightly secured around his eyes and you wonder if he’s consumed by you as well.

Eddie starts kissing your neck and your head drops to the side in pleasure. His hand wraps around your head, keeping you in place as he begins to suck softly in the right spot. You moan and you feel his smile against your skin.

“There it is,” he mumbles, before finding your lips again. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

“Stop.” You mutter against his kiss, fighting back a smile. Your cheeks turn hot and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten around you and you sink further into his arms. You both stay like that for a few minutes, resting in each other's arms. You feel him inhale you deeply before he starts stroking your hair.

“You may not realize how beautiful you are,” he says as he begins to play with your hair. “But, I don’t mind reminding you every day.”

“Would you?” You whisper.

“I’ll take your hand, tell you in great detail about the world around us while reminding you how it doesn’t even compare to you.” He kisses your shoulder. “Not even close.”

The smile that spreads across your face is almost painful. “You have such a way with words.”

He takes your face in his hands, “I do write songs, sweetheart.”

With that, he kisses you with such passion that you fall back onto the mattress, giggles spilling from your lips as Eddie turns your darkness into light.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve was looking around for his wallet to pay the pizza man but he couldn't find it. It was Eddie who found it wedged between the couch cushions.

"Thanks, Daddy," Steve said and went to pay the pizza man.

Eddie's eyes widened, and he whipped his head around to face Robin, whose eyes were just as wide.

"You heard that, right?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, buddy, I did," Robin said. "He does that, though, calls people names that are similar to their own. He called me Bobin the other day. Although, I kind of like it. And Daddy is awfully close to Eddie."

"Oh," Eddie said softly.

"You sound disappointed. Did you want him to call you that?" Robin asked.

"What? No. I like girls," Eddie squeaked.

"Eddie, you know about me. You know I wouldn't care if you were also like me," Robin said softly.

"I like girls, Robin," Eddie said.

"Well, I'm just going to put this information out there, for anyone who's interested. . . You can like more than one gender," Robin said.

"Pardon?" Eddie asked.

Before Robin could even open her mouth, Steve came back into the room.

"You'll never believe who's delivering pizzas now," Steve said, only to find Robin and Eddie staring at him. "What?"

"My name is Eddie," he said.

"Thanks, I had no clue," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "Of course, I know your name is Eddie."

"You called me Daddy," Eddie said.

"No, I did not," Steve said and rolled his eyes. "This is just like when Robin thought I called her Bobin. Is it possible that you're just hearing what you want to hear?"

"You think I want to be called Bobin?" She asked.

"You did say you kind of liked it," Eddie pointed out.

"Okay, the pizzas are getting cold," Steve said and headed into the kitchen.

Eddie leaned forward as he stared blankly ahead. He pressed his hands together.

"Do I want him to call me Daddy?" Eddie asked, and then his eyes went wide. "Oh my God, Bobin, I think I want him to call me Daddy, and while he's in my lap, and he's. . . "

"Woah, you can stop there!" Robin exclaimed.

Eddie jumped up and started pacing. He was muttering under his breath as he did calculations in the air. Robin jumped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders.

"Eddie, this a good thing," she said softly.

"I know, it's just surprising, or maybe I'm surprised about the fact that I'm not really surprised at all," Eddie said. "Everyone's been calling me queer for years, I just - "

"Didn't want them to be right because they're a bunch of assholes," Robin said and grinned. "Well, that's understandable."

Eddie was about to open his mouth to say something else when Steve walked back into the room.

"Did I order pizza for nothing?" Steve asked and Eddie stared at him. "What?"

"Steve," Robin started to say before Eddie started crossing the room.

He didn't even go around the coffee table. He just walked directly over it.

"Eddie! What did I say about walking on the furn - Mmmm!" Steve was interrupted.

Eddie grabbed him, dipped him, and looked at him questioningly with his lips close to Steve’s. Steve nodded, and Eddie crashed his lips to his. Steve immediately gasped into his mouth before kissing him back and gripping his shoulders. Eddie quickly broke the kiss and brought Steve back up.

"Wooo! Yeah, definitely not straight!" Eddie exclaimed and slapped Steve’s ass. "You can call me whatever you want, big boy. Hell, you can even call me Big Daddy if you want to."

Eddie swaggered into the kitchen, leaving Steve dazed.

"I told you accidentally calling him daddy would work," Robin said and then winced. "I didn't know he wasn't awake yet. My bad. The hanky threw me off. Well, it all worked out. Steve? Jesus, where did that kiss send you? It couldn't have been that good."

"Leave me alone, Robin. I'm literally seeing through space and time right now," Steve said, closing his eyes.

"Hey! There's pizza in here! In case you forgot," Eddie called out.

Robin rolled her eyes and went into the kitchen.

"You Vecna'd him with that kiss, asshole!" Robin exclaimed.

"Hmm," Eddie said, his mouth full of pizza. "Maybe another kiss will wake the prince."

He skipped back into the living room.

"I'm eating all the fucking pizza!" Robin yelled.

"That's fine! I found something good to eat in here!" Eddie hollered back.

"Swallow that pizza before you kiss me, Eddie!" She heard Steve exclaim. "I'm not a baby bird!"

Meanwhile, Robin was smiling as they squabbled until it fell into silence. She was glad they both finally figured things out. Her clueless boys. She wouldn't trade them for the world. Hmm, maybe for the recipe for this pizza. Holy shit, they've never been this good before.

"Hey, who'd you say was delivering the pizzas?" Robin asked.

"Not only did they deliver the pizzas, but they also made them!" Steve hollered back.

"Name, Dingus!"

"Argyle!" Steve yelled. "I asked him to stay, but he had other deliveries to make. He said he needed to spread the love."

"Aw. I love that guy," Robin muttered.

As she chewed down on the pizza, she decided that she definitely needed to add a new best friend to her collective. Yeah, Argyle was definitely her new best friend.

[fuctacles]

you guys are feral for silly wereshifter Steve AU and I love that

Some meatheads are calling Eddie names again. The dog that's been tailing him appears out of nowhere and makes eye contact with him as it struts over to the group and lifts his leg, pissing all over the fresh wax on their BMW with the determination and focus of a dog that hasn't been outside for the whole day.

"Hey, get your fucking dog off my car!" One of the guys jumps up, but the warning show of canines stops him from shooing the dog away himself.

Eddie shrugs, though he's restraining a smile.

"It's not mine."

Later the dog finds him again as it always does, and he makes amends.

"You are my dog though, right? My good doggie. Who's my good boy?" he asks, scratching the overjoyed dog all over its furry body.

At home, Steve asks Robin to call him a good boy when he shifts, to see if it feels as good. It doesn't. Well, it does, but not in the same way.

It comes to the point when dog Steve spends more time with Eddie than human Steve. To soak in the happiness and love Eddie shows him.

"Is Steve okay?" Eddie asks one day, petting the dog beside him while they take a break from band practice. The rest of Hellfire is hanging out in the garage, with Mike jumping on every opportunity to learn guitar from Jeff and the rest usually following.

"Yeah?" Dustin cocks his head. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"I don't know." Eddie shrugs. "Haven't seen him in a while and you're never mentioning him anymore."

Dustin looks at the dog.

"He's fine. You're overthinking it."

Eddie thinks that might be it, but...

"I know we're not friends-friends but I don't even see him in passing! Hell, Buckley is there to hang out, and he's not!"

Dustin throws his hands up in the air, annoyed with the questions.

"Don't ask me, man! Ask him yourself! And, to be honest," he crosses his arms, glaring at the dog, for some reason. "I don't understand what's going on with him either."

Eddie frowns, looks at the dog that huffs loudly, and looks away with a grunt. He pats its fluffy fur.

"How am I supposed to ask him if he's never here?" he sighs. "I don't want to just corner him at his place."

Dusting looks at him like he failed elementary two times, not high school.

"There's this thing called phones?"

"Oh. Right."

"Jesus it's like you'd die without me."

"Well..."

"Not what I meant!" Dustin goes pale instantly, mortified by his own words.

"I know, kid." Eddie pulls his head down in reassurance and leans into a side hug. "Don't worry."

-----

"He's not picking up," he tells the dog while biting at a hangnail. "Maybe he's at work?" He wonders out loud and goes to the magazine pile on the coffee table. The dog struts behind him. He rummages through the papers under its watchful eye until he finds the Family Video pamphlet. He runs back to the phone with it and dials the number on the back.

"Hi, I'm looking for Steve? Oh, hi Buckley. Do you know if he's home? Okay. Can you tell him to call me when he's free? No, I just wanted to ask him something. Thanks. Bye."

When he hangs up, he's alone in the room.

"Buddy?"

There's a bark from the front of the trailer.

"Sure, sorry!"

He runs up to open the door for the dog already waiting there. But before it leaves, it nuzzles up into his hand, the wet nose and hesitance to leave reassuring Eddie that he'll be back sooner or later. He smiles at the dog, giving him one last scratch between the ears.

"Such a good boy. See you later, buddy."

----

Steve calls him not even an hour later.

"Eddie?" He sounds out of breath.

"Steve, hi!" He's relieved to hear him and suddenly realizes he doesn't remember the last time they actually talked. "Has Buckley talked to you already?"

"No?"

"Dustin then?"

"No- ah, yeah! He's mentioned you wanted to talk."

He's a bit disappointed Steve hasn't thought to reach out himself but it's better than nothing.

"Yeah, I Haven't seen you in a while, man. What have you been up to?"

"Uh, you know, just... This and that. Doing a lot of... Running. Exercises. You know."

Eddie doesn't know, but he's willing to nod along to keep the conversation going.

"Yeah, totally, you've been busy. Do you want to hang out maybe? Movie night, or, or..." He tries to come up with anything they could do together. "I got a new strain of weed we could test?" He offers.

Steve laughs at that, genuine and relaxed and Eddie relaxes at the sound himself.

"Sure, why not? Is tonight alright? I have a day off anyway."

Eddie's not prepared mentally and neither is his room but he agrees immediately.

"Sure, come over anytime."

"Okay I'll take a shower and I'm off."

When they meet up, everything seems normal. For about fifteen minutes.

Steve jumps whenever Eddie touches him, and his face is red, making Eddie look at him worriedly and ask if he's alright.

But all Steve can think about is “good boy” and belly scratches. When his leg twitches when Eddie touches his shoulder, he jumps off the couch, mortified by his body's reactions.

"Do you have a dog?!" he almost yells, looking around in panic.

Eddie blinks at him.

"Uh, no?" But then he frowns. "I mean, there is a dog," he corrects, and his brows crease in worry. "Wait, are you allergic?"

"Yes!" Steve points his finger at him. "I gotta go, man, sorry, I'm itching all over," he spits out fast, walking backward toward the exit and almost running into a wall. "But it was great seeing you, uh, bye!"

The doors slam shut and Eddie's left alone and confused, the reality show host still yelling from the screen.

[matchingbatbites]

cw: non-con voyeurism

Listen, Steve hadn’t meant to see it.

He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary; going over to Eddie’s place unannounced was normal at this point, something to be expected really. Especially since Robin is out of town this week, gone with her parents to visit family out of state. It's become commonplace for Steve to come over after his shift, late enough that Wayne had already left for his own job.

Steve lets himself into the new trailer like he usually does, and smiles at the sound of Eddie’s music coming from behind his bedroom door. Toeing off his shoes is practically second nature, even though he knows the Munsons don’t care, and he drops his keys on the kitchen counter as he passes it on his way to Eddie’s room.

The music isn’t as loud as Eddie usually plays it, and there’s already a comment about it brewing in his mouth as he opens the door. Instead Steve freezes in the archway, is thoroughly held in place by the sight before him. 

Eddie is laying on his stomach, his cheek pressed to the plush pillow held tight in his arms, as his hips steadily grind into another slotted between his legs. Steve’s eyes are locked on the way he rubs against the pillow, the motion steady but with a desperate edge that makes Steve feel hot all over. 

He’s wearing boxers but his back is on display, a plane of smooth, pale skin occasionally interrupted by pink scars. Steve wants to kiss the knobs of his spine, wants to lick over his shoulder blades and bite into the back of his neck, hold him in place as he- 

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie moans, the sound cutting though Steve’s thoughts and the music still playing. “Fucking- ah, please please please.”

Steve’s hand tightens on the doorknob, his grip almost painful as Eddie - all of him, the sight, the sound - goes straight to his dick. He shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be seeing this.

He’s unable to move though, completely stuck in place as he watches the object of his desires dry hump a fucking pillow and somehow make it the hottest thing Steve’s ever seen.

Eddie is whimpering and whining, Steve can hear it when he focuses, listening for it under the music. He wants to shove his fingers in Eddie’s mouth, wants to know if he sounds just as needy with a cock down his throat.

A spike of terror rips through Steve as Eddie groans out a “Please, I’m- Steve,” and it takes him a second to realize that Eddie hasn’t noticed him, he’s fantasizing about him. It takes every ounce of Steve’s willpower to not just pounce, to not slot himself behind Eddie and rut against his ass the way Eddie is doing to that poor, lucky pillow.

Eddie’s desperate noises reach a peak and his hips stutter as he gasps, high and sharp. Steve only gives himself a second to watch Eddie come before he steps back, closing the door as quietly as he can. He stumbles away from it and fumbles to get his shoes back on, barely remembering to grab his keys on his way out of the home. 

Steve is burning with desire as he climbs back into his car, thinks vaguely about the time Dustin tried to explain spontaneous human combustion to him and wonders if this is how it feels, this crackling, sparking heat underneath his skin.

He’s thankful for the cover of night as he shoves his hand into his pants and strips his cock in short, fast strokes, too desperate to wait, the image of Eddie too fresh in his mind-

Steve comes in almost no time, paints the inside of his briefs because he hadn’t even bothered to pull his dick out. He slumps back into the seat as he tries to catch his breath, tries to figure out his next move.

He’s had a crush on Eddie for a while, one he’s refused to act on because he couldn’t tell if Eddie felt the same, if his teasing and flirting was genuine or just all jokes.

But now he knows. He saw Eddie come with Steve’s name on his lips and he knows.

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan —Roan’s having a hard time adapting to the new babysitter. stepmom!reader, 1.4k

Eddie’s car is parked poorly on the driveway, but it’s there, and it’s nice to see after a long day. You park snugly behind him, pull your purse onto your shoulder, and rush out of your car, up the steps to the house. 

You open the heavy front door.

“Roan?” you ask, greeted by the smell of Eddie’s tomato pasta and fresh bleach. “Eddie, did you mop?” 

“Sasha mopped,” Eddie corrects from the top of the stairs. “She’s up here.” 

“Sasha?” 

“Roan.” He smiles at you. “Sasha is long gone home, baby. And if I were you I wouldn’t say her name. It hasn’t got me super far.” 

You wince, hanging your purse and coat over the bannister and shucking off your shoes, aching feet a little less painful on the carpet of the stairs. Eddie waits for you on the landing, and he kisses you when you’re close enough, to your fear. 

“I’m gonna fall.” 

“No,” he says, encouraging you against him with a forearm to the small of your back. “Like I’d let you.” 

“Is it really bad?” 

“She went into a full blown nuclear meltdown. I don’t think Sasha will be back any time soon, she looked shell-shocked,” Eddie says. 

His eyes flare wide and his lips pucker, but he looks less worried and more entertained. He knows Roan is gonna be fine eventually. She has a case of the crankies because nobody will let her have her way (but you would if you could).

“She definitely wants to see me?” 

“I think you’re the only person she wants to see. She kept pushing me off of the bed.” 

“Oh.” You kiss his cheek. He smiles like he did the very first time you kissed him, surprised and elated to be liked, which is a tad silly —you love him. “Hello. Dinner smells nice.” 

“It does, doesn’t it? I’m gonna go make some garlic bread if you don’t need me.”

You hold his arm. It’s strange to be in love sometimes. You coparent his occasionally angry child. He makes you dinner every single night. There’s barely time to say hello, but you say it because saying hi to him is always, always fun. 

Eddie gives you a quick hug. “I’m downstairs if you want me,” he promises. 

You ease around one another. He goes down the stairs too quickly, you knock gently against ‘Princess Roan’s’ door. The placard is missing a few gems, but it’s still sparkly. 

There’s no answer.

“Hello?” you ask, knocking the door again. “Baby, I’m coming in to see you.” 

“…Okay.” 

You smile at the sound of her voice. You’ve missed her, even though it hasn’t been that long. It’s better to see her, opening her door, finding her all curled up on her bed. She’s mostly guilty, you’d say, but still annoyed at the situation. 

“Hey, angel,” you say, pausing against her doorway. 

“Hi, mom.” 

You grin. “Dad told me what happened.” She tenses, expecting a telling off, but Eddie has that covered. She can’t treat people the way she did, pushing poor Sasha and screaming at her to go away isn’t fair, but she had her reasons. Neither you nor Eddie plan to ignore them. “You okay?” 

“Fine.” 

“What can I do to make you feel better than fine?” you ask. 

“Let me come to work with you.” 

“I told you already, Ro. You can only come with me for emergencies. They’re very grumpy at work.” 

She glares and curls tighter into her ball. She’s small, less than a third your size but with feelings that would threaten to tip you over. Her dress is creased to death and her face is covered in tears. 

“Wanna get dressed for bed?” you ask. 

Roan sighs tiredly. “No.” 

“Just let me wash your face then, princess. Tears make your eyes sore after a while.” 

“Can you hug me?” Roan asks shyly. 

You cross the room. She slides across her bed to make more room for you than you need, but you love how big she seems to think you are, in a way. Like she sees you as much older, maybe more protective, or that’s what you’d like to think. You lay down in her bed, and you move your arm from your side to let her know the hug factor is ready for business. 

She lays her head on your shoulder. 

“It’s hard missing you,” you say. 

It’s hard missing both of them. You feel like a lot of your life is totally wasted at work when you could be talking yourself hoarse with Eddie, Roan between you both or on someone’s lap. You’d rest your face on his arm and watch his lips make each word. You could do it forever, but the world doesn’t let you. His stories and jokes have to wait until the weekend.

“It is?” Roan asks quietly.

“It’s so hard. I miss you all the time.”

“I miss you too,” Roan says. 

“I know.” Her bed is crazy comfortable. You stretch out and turn your face down to hers, back twinging, content to stay her with her forever. “Can I give you a little kiss?” 

She laughs and turns her cheek to you for kissing. 

“It’s been a long time since I asked you that, huh?” you say, pressing three light kisses in the same place. 

“You aks me sometimes.” 

“You never ask me!” you tease in a shouting-whisper. “You just plant them on me!” 

“You like kisses.” 

“I love ‘em. You and dad give the best kisses I ever had.” 

She smiles, but it slowly turns into a frown. “I don’t like being home with Sasha.” 

“It’s summertime, bug. Me and dad have to work, Wayne has to work. We can’t find any other way.” 

“Sasha doesn’t… She’s not… Ugh.” Roan rubs her sad face into your chest. 

“Sasha’s still a stranger, baby, that’s all it is. I know she seems a bit weird right now, but that’s, like, how meeting new people goes!” You hug her to you loosely. “You remember when you met me?” 

“You liked me on the first day,” Roan says. 

“Of course I did.” 

“Sasha doesn’t like me.” 

“Sasha thinks you’re awesome. But when I first met you, Ro, you were littler, and you liked to cuddle more. It was easier for me and you. Plus, I think things for me and you are much more special.” 

“She doesn’t like me anymore.” 

You coo sympathetically. “No way. I think if you say sorry, and maybe me and dad can explain, Sasha won’t mind.” 

“I just wanted you,” she says. 

“I know. It’s okay if we miss each other, because we always get to see each other before dinner.” 

“Is dad still mad at me?” 

You sit up to look down at her, stroking the dark baby curls away from her face, smiling as they spring back into place. “Nah. But maybe he deserves an apology like Sasha. He said you gave him a couple of pushes too.” 

“He was trying to give me a hug and I was still mad,” she complains. 

“That’s okay. I guess dad’s not the kind to hold a grudge anyways.” 

Eddie absolutely holds grudges. He has one-sided beef with half the town and mutual beef with the other half, but he doesn’t hold one with Roan. You wipe the tear stains from her cheeks with a warm cloth and get her changed into clean pyjamas, holding her hand the whole time at her insistence, which makes doing her buttons up hard. 

“Why can’t uncle Steve have me?” Roan asks as you carry her downstairs. 

“Because he has a job, too.” You put her down at the bottom of the stairs. “Most grown ups do.” 

“And you can’t have summer vacation?” 

“I wish, baby. I wish.” 

Roan walks ahead of you into the kitchen, where Eddie’s setting the table, pasta and garlic bread and a big tossed salad waiting. Roan’s place has been set especially for her, with her glass of water, her glass of juice, her favourite fork, and the big purple cushion on her seat. 

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks her, bending at the waist when she holds up her arms. 

He gives her a soft hug, patting her back between lazy up and downs. 

“Sorry, daddy.” 

“That’s okay,” he says genuinely, “I know summer is hard. Maybe I can get some more days off soon.” 

That sounds like a good idea. 

“Please,” Roan says. 

Eddie coils one of her curls around his finger. “I’ll see what I can do. And you’re going to be nicer to Sasha?” 

“Yes. Sorry.” 

Eddie tips her head back to kiss her nose. “I don’t want you to be sorry, I just want you to be kind.” 

“‘Cos kind is the new cool,” Roan says. 

“Yes!” He drags her up his chest to squeeze her tightly. “And we’re the coolest cats in town.” 

[formosusiniquis]

for @thefreakandthehair and inspired by this. Everyone enjoy some bee keeper!Eddie saving the day so Steve can play some baseball

Eddie picked up beekeeping the way he picked up most things in his life: accidentally and by virtue of following a crumb of serotonin straight down the rabbit hole of obsession. It isn't what he expected to do for a living, and at this point he does have to admit that when it accounted for 91% of his taxable income last year it is what he does for a living, but he likes that he gets to work outside and set his own hours. He likes that the regular customers he has who buy his honey are nice, and likes getting to advise people about things like flavor profiles and what they taste best with, it was the thing he liked best about his position at the dispensary that was now more of a side gig. And then there's his contract with city animal control that gets him called out to parts of the city he didn't even know existed to relocate hives a lot more often than he thought would happen.

It's a good life, and he likes that he's made it himself.

But it's the kind of life that gets him calls from people late at night when trying to finish binging Fallout before the internet can spoil it for him. He has a rule to always answer when Chrissy calls though, he isn't going to miss helping her if it's an emergency.

“I need a favor,” she says before he's even finished answering.

“Anything for you,” he agrees.

“You might regret saying that.”

Chrissy Cunningham turned a full ride scholarship for cheerleading into a business and marketing degree and she turned that into a fancy job with the White Sox that he didn’t fully understand but totally supported. He wore the free cap she gave him, and was endlessly glad that as a white guy he didn’t get gatekept the way girls like Chrissy did, since he couldn’t name a single player on the team.

And it was that endless support that had him in his full gear at the White Sox stadium with his smoker and bee vac.

Chrissy meets him at the front with a harried expression and a warm hug, “I’d say I owe you one but if everything goes right we’ll be totally square before the first inning.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, repeating it louder when all she gives him is an enigmatic smile. 

The only answer he truly gets is being shoved into a little green cart that she drives with a frightening speed. She drives them through the stadium through a route he has no hope of remembering on his own until they reach an opening that leads straight out to the field. Eddie always had a dream, as a kid, of being a rockstar, driving out onto the diamond to a sudden and uproarious cheer is the closest he thinks he’s ever come to truly experiencing what it would be like to be famous on stage.

He hams it up of course. Waves his arms to try to get them to cheer louder as Chrissy stears them toward the lifter that he’s going to have to go up to get to the swarm. And they do, the cheers becoming an enthusiastic roar, a sound so loud he thinks he could climb them up to the bees without the lifter. 

“Focus will you, you’re on national television right now.” Chrissy says, with a subtle elbow to his side.

“Yeah but how many people are watching a delayed baseball game?”

Never one to just take his smartass comments, he’s sure that Chrissy says something super witty and sarcastic back. Only Eddie made the mistake of turning his head and catching sight of the most glorious ass in the snuggest pair of pinstriped white baseball pants and lost the ability to hear. A second elbow in his side reminds his brain full of metaphorical bees that he’s on television and he doesn’t have his veil on, he isn’t about to get caught drooling on television.

The fattest ass in the stadium turns around and Eddie thinks he’s been stung. He has to be going into anaphylaxis with the way he suddenly can’t catch his breath. The guy in front of him, with a hand on his hip and his eyes trained unwaveringly on Eddie is tongue-swellingly hot. And he just keeps getting closer as Chrissy doesn’t stop driving forward.

“Steve, you’re not supposed to get this close, you're our starting pitcher you can’t get stung.” Chrissy chides.

“I just wanted to make sure that he wasn’t going to kill the bees.” The guy, Steve, says.

“He’s not.”

“I’m not,” Eddie says, shaking his head as fast as he can, like that will make things more convincing for the hot baseball guy. But he’s got an eyebrow raised giving Eddie an up and down like he still doesn’t believe him.

“Look,” he pulls out his equipment so Steve can see. “I’ll smoke them with this, that’ll make them calm so they don’t freak out when I vacuum them up with this.”

“And running them through a vacuum isn’t going to kill them?”

“It’s a gentle suck,” he says, immediately filled with a burning mortification. “It’s just enough to move them into the tank where I can relocate them.”

Hot baseball Steve has his big brown eyes open even wider, there’s a twitch at his mouth like he’s about to say something else and Eddie actually can’t have that. “Chris can we get me strapped into this thing, we want to get this big ballgame going right?”

Steve takes a couple steps back, hands raised up in a placating gesture. Whether it’s for him or for Chrissy because he didn’t listen, Eddie’s too busy putting a neon yellow safety buckle on to think about it.

He takes his time, this is basically free marketing so he’s not about to rush through or do a half-assed job. But in just a few minutes he has a vac full of bees and the game is ready to be played. The lifter gently lowers Eddie back to the ground with another round of cheers. He unclips from the safety harness and takes a shallow bow for the crowd.

Then Steve is jogging over, Eddie stands up straighter than he ever has in his life. Nervous for what is about to happen.

“You saved the game, man!” Steve has the nicest smile that Eddie has ever seen, wide and toothy. He is but a man and thus falls a little bit in love immediately.

“It was nothing, really, just part of the job, y’know.”

“Well, here’s something you probably haven’t done on the job. You have to throw the first pitch.”

“No, no, I absolutely will not be doing that.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, a mischief lights up in Steve’s eyes. He jerks his chin up at Chrissy who says something Eddie is too far away to hear into a walkie talkie. He thinks he has a guess though when the loudspeaker begins to drawl, “Laaadies and Gentlemen, our game is about to begin. Tonight’s first pitch will be thrown by our bee rescuer, Eddie Munson!”

The crowd begins to scream again, but the sound is almost like the hive's steady drone when Steve leans close enough to whisper, “It’s just ceremonial, all you’ve got to do is throw it. I’ll even play catcher for you.” And Eddie’s helpless to do anything but nod.

There’s actually a lot that has to happen before they’re ready for him to throw his sad attempt at a pitch. But that gives him the time to settle his equipment out of the way and scream at Chrissy. Still it’s sooner than he’d like before she’s shuffling him over to a big mound of dirt in the center of everything. She pushes his hat and veil back and it feels a little proud father of the bride right until she pats him on the top of his head and whispers, “Don’t fuck it up, nerd.”

His palms are sweaty, they feel too slick to get a good grip on the small, white ball. He thinks he might throw up, only across from him Steve is there. A glove on one hand he sends Eddie an encouraging little finger wave with the other. 

He can do this. 

He takes a deep breath and throws.

It’s awful. Too high and a little off center, but Steve snags it in that large, ungloved palm and the crowd cheers again like he’s done something fantastic. He’s starting to think they’re just happy to be here.

He starts to walk off the field, toward Chrissy where he knows he’s safe. But he can’t help noticing that Steve is jogging his way too; the ball that Eddie just threw in one hand, a sharpie in the other, his glove tucked tight under his arm. “Eddie, hey, you gotta take this with you, dude.”

Steve lobs it at him in a soft underhand, and Eddie still fumbles the catch, “Thanks, man, but really, I don’t-” the rest of his response dies in his mouth when he realizes just what Steve has scribbled across the ball.

“Give me a call if you’re interested,” Steve says, walking backward toward the mound Eddie just left, “I can show you my gentle suck.” He laughs at his own shitty pickup line, which is somehow more attractive than his whole hot jock thing.

Eddie thinks he must be blushing up to his hairline by the time he makes it back to Chrissy and his things. She looks too smug for it to be any other way. “Told you we’d be even before the end of the night.”

“Chris, if this goes well I might owe you a favor. Now we gotta go, I’ve got bees to relocate.”

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

[edenavari]

On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

[rogueddie]

Steve wakes up to a beeping noise- a heart monitor. He struggles to open his eyes, turning to squint around the hospital room. Something about it feels off, though he can’t tell what.

A woman stumbles in, almost spilling her coffee. She looks familiar.

“Hey,” Steve tries, only to end up coughing. His throat is painfully dry.

“Steve!” She exclaims. She hurries over, swapping the coffee for a plastic cup of water. She carefully holds it to his mouth for him to drink. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake! I know we can’t talk here but… fuck, man, you really had us scared for a minute. Promise me you won’t do anything like that again!”

“I promise?”

“Oh! Eddie finally woke up too! Just the other week. He keeps asking about you, I should go-”

Steve is only more confused. There’s only one Eddie he knows and that Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead worrying about someone like Steve. Not unless...

“Munson?”

“Duh. Oh! Nancy! I was supposed to- you’re ok, right? I’ll just be a minute!”

“Yeah, sure.”

She throws him a thumbs up, darting out the room, calling for Nancy.

His head throbs. He’s not sure what is going on, what happened… maybe that thing in the Byers house did get him after all? Maybe this is just a dream.

"Ah, Mr Harrington," a nurse greets with a warm smile. "It's good to see you awake. I'm just going to check your vitals and all of that stuff, then we'll need to go over some questions. Does that sound alright?"

"Questions?"

"You've been asleep for a few weeks. We need to make sure that everything up there is ok." She lightly raps her knuckles on the side of her head.

Despite how light she's trying to be, Steve feels a sinking in his stomach.

"Is that possible? What- what could be wrong?"

"Nothing too serious. You're speech is clear and legible, you're conscious and cognitive." She lifts the clipboard off the end of the hospital bed. "You remember your name?"

"Yeah," he says. After a moment, he realizes; "oh! Right, sorry. Steve Harrington."

"Date of birth?"

"April 29th, 1967."

"Do you know what todays date is?"

"Um... how long have I been out? You said a few weeks, right?"

"Almost three weeks, yes."

"Three weeks, so that would make today... December 4th?"

She doesn't respond for a moment. The way she keeps her eyes on the clipboard feels too calculated.

"The year?"

"Uh... 1983?"

She only pauses for a moment, before continuing to ask simple questions about current events, how he's feeling, where he feels any pain or discomfort.

He lies when she asks if he remembers what caused him to be hospitalized. He's not sure what the story Nancy and Byers will give. He can't imagine people... involved, would want the truth out. And he's not willing to risk whatever consequences will come with that.

"I'm going to talk with your doctor," she finally says. "I'll be one minute."

"Wait! What- am I ok?"

"Your doctor will explain everything, don't worry."

Amnesia, his doctor explains.

Three years of his life, gone. They try to reassure him, say that it's still early days and he could completely regain his memory, no problem.

But they don't know. Not really. It's all 'possibly's, and 'maybe's. No guarentee. There's still a chance that he may never remember.

The woman who ran in when he woke up, sat by his bedside and holding his hand in a death grip, doesn't look anymore reassured by their optimism than he is.

"We're... close?" He asks her.

"Yeah," she says, forcing a smile. "Platonic soulmates. It's, um... Robin, by the way. Robin Buckley."

"Do we have that... Mrs Click, you sit behind me, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." She looks stunned, almost dazed. "I didn't think you remembered, or even noticed me."

"How could I not? You're hilarious!"

"What? We never-"

"Oh, uh, you're muttering. Behind me. It wasn't exactly, um... quiet."

"Oh my god," she slaps a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. "You heard me talk about you!"

"Yeah, like I said; you're funny."

Luckily, someone else bursts into the room, interrupting whatever epiphany Robin is having.

"Steve!" He yells.

The guy looks like a kid, barely out of middle school. But he rushes to Steve, eyeing him up like he's Steves babysitter.

"Uh, hi?"

"Oh no," is the kids response. He turns to Robin. "How much does he remember?"

"He is right here, you know."

"I think some time in 83?" Robin replies, ignoring him.

"Before or after the whole... uh..." He glances at Steve with suspicion, then pointedly to the door.

"Jesus," Steve mutters, rubbing at the crease between his brows. "Did Nancy and Jonathan tell you, or what?"

"Tell us about... what?"

He rolls his eyes at them, pointing to the kid. "Whatever has short stack paranoid. The thing with the-" he flops one hand around, raised towards the ceiling, "the lights."

"Do you remember anything that happened after that?" The kid quickly asks. "At the hospital, and Will?"

"You mean the Byers kid? Isn't he, like... dead?"

"So you... don't remember me."

"Sorry?"

"It's fine," he lies.

Steve hates how sad the kid sounds. He glances between the two of them, both seemingly wallowing quietly about the situation.

"Which room is Munson in?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"What?" The kid frowns. "Eddie? Why?"

"Which room?"

"He's two doors down to the left," Robin answers. "Why- woah! Don't get up! You're still-"

"I'm fine," Steve gently pushes her away, ignoring both of them trying to plead for him to get back into bed.

Despite the bandages, bruises and sick look to him, Munson somehow looks better than Steve remembers him looking. The longer hair definitely suits him.

"Steve?" He frowns. He tries to sit up but, grimacing, he soon stops. "What the hell are you doing up? You're gonna freak Dustin out."

"Dustin? That the kid?" He asks, grunting as he sits on the edge of his bed.

"What do-" he pauses, expressions slowly twisting with the horror and realization. "Yeah. Yeah, man, Dustin is the kid."

"Right. So... um... we're friends now?"

Eddie winces. "We haven't exactly had time to talk about... that."

"What? It's been years!"

"It's not that simple."

"Are you saying that because it's true or because you don't-"

"Because it's true," Eddie rolls his eyes. "A lot has happened since then, Steve. You fell in love with Wheeler."

"What?" Steve can't hide his confusion. "Nancy?"

"Yes, Nancy. You made sure everyone fucking knew about that."

Steve snorts, having to grab at his side with a wince. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

"So you're still easy to rile up?" He asks, smirking.

"Wh- you-" Eddie gasps. He tries to sit up again, grunting when he flops back down. "You were trying to make me jealous?!"

He's looking at Steve with disbelief, but he's also smiling.

"Are we friends now?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, Stevie. We're friends."

"Just friends?"

"I don't... Steve, how bad is your amnesia?"

Steve quickly looks away, wincing. "Not... that bad? I remember that- the first time. This, um... monster shit. Falling out with Tommy. And the doctors are optimistic- they're pretty sure I'm going to remember."

"Alright... maybe it'd be better if we talk then, instead of rushing into it now."

"Jesus," Steve frowns. "I really have missed a lot. When did you get mature?"

"Hey-"

[ikarakie]

mike has a panic attack.

it's sudden and it's terrifying and eddie has no idea what to do. one minute they're all yelling and laughing and just playing d&d, and the next, mike is collapsing to the floor struggling to breathe. gasping out the same two names over and over again. the panic attacks eddie's had before were never, never this bad. for a fucking awful moment he thinks he's about to watch wheeler die.

lucas stays with him, crouched by his side and talking in gentle tones. murmuring words of assurance that, while good, don't seem to reach his friend. dustin had sprinted out of the room yelling into a walkie talkie as soon as mike went down, so eddie has no fucking idea what he's up to. not that he's able to focus on much other than the kid (because, god, he's so young, what the hell has happened to him?) trying and failing to just breathe.

he tries the shit that worked for him, trying to get him to breathe in time with his counts, but it's like mike's ears are full of cotton. there's not even a hint of recognition in his eyes as either him or lucas speak.

dustin returns exactly three minutes later, trailed by the last guy eddie would've ever expected to walk through the doors of hellfire club. steve harrington zeroes in on mike like a hawk, crosses the room quickly and crouches in front of him. lucas scoots away, visibly relieved to see steve, so eddie reluctantly does the same. mike's knees are to his chest and he's heaving sobs so powerful they wrack his entire body. for about thirty infuriating seconds, steve just watches.

"oh god- oh fuck- fuck- will, will-" mike is saying, through stilted breaths. "will, el- el- i can't- they're-"

"mike." steve's voice is like honey, low and soothing in a way lucas' can't be yet. mike snaps his gaze up, finally proving his ears work. "where are you right now?"

"hawkins lab-" mike chokes, and eddie just listens, dumbfounded. "hawkins- starcourt- fuck-"

"no," steve says gently. mike stares at him, slightly less glazed. "where are you?" he asks again, a little more pointed. a few seconds pass. mike's eyes dart around the room.

"hellfire." he whispers, barely audible. steve nods, asks if he can come closer, if he can touch mike. the kid nods frantically, and then his hands are being peeled from where they were curled protectively against his chest. they're placed against steve's instead, and they spend the next few minutes breathing in tandem. harrington demonstrating and mike doing his best to follow.

his breathing eventually evens out, thank god, and the heart-wrenching sobs simmer down into quiet tears. mike all but throws himself into the embrace steve offers, tucking his head under the guy's chin and seemingly making himself as small as possible.

"it's okay, you're okay." steve promises, speaking into mike's hair as he gently rocks them back and forth. "they're okay. they're just fine, both of them. you looked after them so well, bud." he keeps whispering reassurances and sweet, kind words into the little cocoon he's crafted. mike stays curled up there for a while, making a wet patch on steve's shoulder.

then finally sounding more like himself, grumbles, "just 'cos we're hugging doesn't mean i like you." after maybe four or five minutes have passed. steve just huffs a laugh, because despite his words, mike is still clutching steve's arms as he pulls back.

"of course not." steve agrees. mike smiles as his hair is carefully ruffled. turns and reaches for dustin and lucas, who waste no time in piling themselves onto their friend. steve doesn't go far though, keeping a hand in the hair at the nape of mike's neck.

it's only then that he finally makes eye contact with eddie, who's watched the whole thing go down with a sick curiosity. because... who was this guy? this was not king steve, or the asshole, cookie-cutter jock steve harrington that eddie knew of. eddie had thought dustin's nickname for him of 'number one babysitter' had been an exaggeration; that maybe he'd watched them a grand total of three times back when he and nancy wheeler dated, and dustin had developed some fixation on him.

but... no, here he was. having brought hard ass michael wheeler down from easily the worst panic attack eddie had ever seen with the ease of someone who's done it a million times. (and wasn't that a harrowing thought?)

"you mind cutting it a bit early tonight, man?" he asks, softly, and it takes eddie a second to register that he's speaking to him. "i know you've still got, like, 20 minutes, but-"

"no, no," eddie cuts him off, kind of desperate for wheeler to get home and rest. "shit, man. that was... yeah, of course, take him." steve smiles appreciatively (an annoyingly pretty expression eddie never imagined him capable of, let alone directing at him), and turns back to the kiddie hug pile.

"hey, boys? mike?" he calls, all gentle and warm. it makes eddie's heart ache; even more so when all three turn to steve with big, shiny eyes. mike's peek out from dustin's arms. "how about we head off now, and stop at that payphone on the corner of glenview on the way home? give the byers a call in california?"

mike nods, hinging on desperate. dustin and lucas give him one more good squeeze before agreeeing themselves. steve corrals them all up, bids a fucking goodnight to the present company, (plus an extra one for eddie specfically), and shuffles them out of the room. eddie, and the rest of hellfire, are left stunned in the wake of babysitter harrington.

(when mike tries to apologise the next day, eddie absolutely refuses to accept it- and, at lucas' timid request, writes the mind flayer he'd introduced out of the campaign entirely. the next session, it's like the thing never existed.)

[strangersteddierthings]

Shovel Talk(s) Part One

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve and Eddie aren't even together when Steve gets the Shovel Talk from Eddie's uncle, but it is what tips Steve into talking to Eddie about his feelings, so he's not upset by it.

They aren't dating, not because he doesn't want Eddie, because he absolutely does. It's just that he wants to be sure Eddie wants him back. There are times when he's sure, when Eddie gets into his space a bit too close, or more often, than he does with anyone else. Eddie calls him a thousand and one nicknames, ranging from sweet to irritating but just when Steve thinks that's a perk left just for him, Eddie hands someone else a new nickname (just the one, a voice in Steve's head that sounds suspiciously like Robin says).

Not that any of that is the point. Wayne wouldn't bother to give Steve a shovel talk at all unless he knew how Eddie felt. Wayne is a man of action, and he's never done anything unless it mattered. Meant something. Steve and Wayne have sat in plenty of (what Steve considers to be) awkward silences because Wayne doesn't talk to fill the void of silence.

The point is, Steve drops Eddie off at the house the government so graciously bought for the Munsons, walks Eddie to the door and giving Eddie a hug goodbye. He stays on the porch until Eddie shuts the door and then nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Wayne call out his name.

"Harrington," Wayne says from the shadows of the wrap around porch.

So, Steve jumps and it's only then he notices that Wayne is sitting at the table and chairs set up on the porch. "Mr. Munson, sir, hi. Hello."

Wayne lets out a chuckle, but it doesn't really sound amused. "I have come to accept that you are nothing like your father, boy, but I do want to make it clear to you, that Eddie means more to me than anything else on this Earth."

"I know, sir."

"I know you do. And while I will forever be grateful that you helped return him to me alive, know that I will not hesitate to make you disappear if you hurt my boy in a way he can't bounce back from."

Steve's not afraid of Wayne, not really, but that doesn't stop him from feeling the need to flee. He doesn't, though, because he'd gotten enough shovel talks from concerned parents in high school, and he knows they can sense weakness. "I can't promise I'd never hurt him, sir, but I can promise it'll never be intentional."

He can't actually see Wayne's face in the darkness but he feels sized up all the same.

"I believe that, Steve," Wayne says, and it's the first time Steve's ever heard his name leave the man's mouth, "now go home."

-

Wayne's shovel talk was expected. Robin's is not.

"You took Eddie on a date date?" She whispers it as though they aren't alone in Steve's living room. They're laying on the floor in a line, heads next to each other so if they turn slightly to the side they can make eye contact. Steve's not sure why they always end up on the floor for Serious Talk Time.

"Yeah," Steve says, looking away from Robin's face to stare up to the ceiling, "I mean, sorta? We can't like... be open that it was a date, but we went to dinner and a movie and it was nice. Shared a popcorn and played footsie under the diner table."

"Whoa," Robin says. "I never thought you'd- didn't think you'd be brave enough to ask him."

"Me either."

"Steve," Robin sounds serious, so Steve turns to look at her. She studies his face for a moment before she's the one to look away, speaks to the ceiling, "be careful with Eddie, yeah?"

"What? Careful how?"

"I just think you could really fuck him up," Robin says. "You're his first boyfriend, right? That's going to set a precedent for relationships that might happen if you two don't work out. And I hate to say this, because I know you've changed, but like, I saw how a lot of those girls you dated in high school ended up when you broke up with them."

Steve's a little hurt, because Robin's his best friend. She should be giving this talk to Eddie, not him. But, also, he understands. He knows that Robin knew about Eddie's sexuality before he did, knows they bonded over being queer while Steve was still figuring himself out.

Steve also knows that Eddie's never been in a relationship before, Eddie'd told him at much when Steve asked him out. Steve doesn't like that Robin implied that he and Eddie will eventually break up, but no matter how much that thought makes Steve's heart ache, he won't know if it'll happen unless it does.

He just doesn't understand why she seems to think he'll be the one breaking Eddie's heart. It could go the other way.

"Did you OD over there?" Robin asks, trying to lighten the mood.

"No," Steve answers, "I'll be careful."

-

They've been on four more dates before Nancy knocks on his door. She doesn't accept his invitation to come inside. Just starts speaking on his doorstep.

"As Eddie's Capital P Soulmate," is how she starts that sentence, and it makes something hurt deep inside Steve as he tries not to think about Robin, "I am obligated to remind you that I do own several guns now. And I don't miss."

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, because even Wayne was more subtle, "I got it."

"Good. I do know you'd never hurt him on purpose," Nancy says but Steve doesn't feel reassured.

He thinks that, if she really didn't think he's going to end up hurting Eddie she wouldn't have said anything at all. "Right."

"Well, good talk Steve," and then she's walking down the driveway and climbing into her car.

He closes the door and goes to the kitchen to get himself a beer, mostly so he has something to do besides stew in his emotions. He wonders if Eddie has been given the shovel talk, too? Maybe Robin did the same thing Nancy just did. Showed up unprompted, threatened Eddie with some sort of bodily harm, and then just left.

Steve grabs the phone and dials Eddie's number.

"Hello?" Eddie's voice greets him, albeit questioningly.

"Eddie, it's Steve."

"Oh, hello sweetheart," Eddie says, "are you calling for business or pleasure?"

Steve laughs, "business."

"Boo!"

"Listen, uh, I had a question. I just wanted to know if anyone's said anything to you. About us. Or, y'know, specifically about us and our relationship?"

"Uh, not really? A few congratulations, I guess. Why? Did someone say something?" Eddie's voice is level, almost too level, so Steve knows he's trying to keep cool.

"Oh, no! No! I mean, aside from the scary shovel talk from- Wayne, everyone's been surprisingly cool about it. Very supportive," Steve says and even though it's true, everyone they've told has been cool about it, it feels a little bit like a lie.

Eddie laughs, "I can't believe my uncle gave you a shovel talk! You know, I keep expecting to get one from Robin but so far nothing. She must think you're safe in my capable hands."

Steve is safe in Eddie's hand, he thinks, but that doesn't stop the sting that goes through him. "Of course, she does. You've been a perfect boyfriend."

There's a pause before Eddie's voice comes through the phone, soft and quiet, "I'm glad you said so. I want to be. For you."

"You're not allowed to say those kinds of things when you aren't within kissing distance, babe," Steve says, because if he doesn't add humor to this conversation, he's going to tell Eddie he loves him instead, and even Steve knows that saying that a month into dating is too soon, especially over the phone where he can't see Eddie's reaction.

Eddie laughs and makes kissing sounds at him before the conversation shifts to chatting about the day and making plans for the weekend.

-

Steve is trying really hard to not be the person he was in high school but every time he gets to the point where he's being a better person, someone brings up how he used to be. Shoves it back into his face that no matter what Steve does he can't outrun his past.

One such time is shortly after Steve and Eddie accidentally come out as a couple to all of Hellfire. Steve was just dropping off the boys and had stepped inside to chat a bit. Once game time had arrived it had and Steve made to leave, they'd (he and Eddie) had been on autopilot. Eddie'd whined 'where's my goodbye kiss?' and Steve had stepped over, kissed him goodbye, and was out the door before it had actually computed.

Steve had burst back through the door, rushing back to Eddie, because no way in Hell was he going to leave his boyfriend to deal with whatever the consequences would be alone.

It had been absolute chaos at the table with people shouting over each other.

"Of all the people you could be with, you picked Steve!? You could do better!" Mike had whined, and Steve had thought for sure he was the only one who had heard Mike until he saw Will punch his arm and hiss his own 'don't be a dick' at Mike.

It took almost half an hour to calm everyone down. It was a relief to know that Eddie had come out to his bandmates/the older Hellfire members already. The kids took it in stride, in the end, and Eddie had shoo'd Steve away.

Jeff had excused himself, too, and Steve thought he was just going to use the bathroom but instead he followed Steve outside.

Ah. Steve knows what's coming.

"Harrington," Jeff says, "can't say I'm excited that you're the secret boyfriend Eddie's constantly sighing wistfully about. I'm sure Wayne's already threatened you," And Robin, and Nancy, and Mike doesn't think he's good enough, "but if you hurt Eddie-"

"I get it! There will be dire consequences if I hurt Eddie," Steve snaps, not down for hearing it anymore. He stomps to his car and peels away from the curb without bothering to look back.

-

If he's being honest, Steve didn't even know he had a breaking point with shovel talks until he gets his fifth one from Dustin.

It's not even a shovel talk. It's just a single sentence, said almost a month after Dustin learned about their relationship. He's dropping Dustin off after their DnD game. Normally Claudia picks him up, but she's busy tonight and asked Steve to do it.

"Alright, Henderson, safely delivered."

"Thanks, Steve," Dustin says, unbuckles his seatbelt, and opens the door, before turning back to Steve. He just looks at him for a moment.

"What?"

"I'm happy for you and Eddie. Just, don't hurt him, ok?"

He nods his head but can't say anything. Dustin grabs his backpack, shoots him a smile, and climbs out. Steve does wait until Dustin closes the front door behind him before putting the car back in gear.

He manages to get home, somehow, because Steve doesn't fully remember the drive. It's not that his mind was so focused on something else that made him fail to take in his surroundings, but rather that his mind wasn't even a part of his body anymore.

One moment he was pulling away from the Henderson residence, and the next, he was home, just standing in his kitchen in the dark. And now that his thoughts are back, or easier to process, he finds himself wondering why everyone thinks that he's going to be the one to hurt Eddie.

How many people has he hurt that this is his reputation? Is it inevitable that he will hurt Eddie? Is it truly just a matter of time until he breaks Eddies heart? Why is everyone so convinced that he will?

Briefly the thought occurs to him that maybe he should call up Eddie and break up with him right now, before Eddie has a chance to get in deep enough that Steve could break his heart, but just the thought of it breaks Steve's heart, so he's not going to do that. Doesn't want to do that. That would just be punishing Eddie for something he didn't do.

None of this is Eddie's fault, and Steve's an asshole for even thinking of breaking up with him because of it. Which feeds him back into the loop of thinking that maybe everyone is right about him. He is an asshole and will someday hurt Eddie, perhaps even on purpose.

He loves Eddie. He's in love with Eddie. But does loving him mean proving his friends wrong? Or does it mean leaving him before they're proven right?

He wants to ask everyone why they think he'll hurt Eddie.

He wants to ask everyone why they don't care if he's the one that gets hurt.

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)