#stranger things vol 1

[ryan-waddell11]

they’re both anxious boys

[queenimmadolla]

𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝

Summary: A glimpse into Eddie’s morning as a first time and young dad with his baby. Oh, and you’re there, too.

Warnings: allusions to sexy stuff, descriptions of breastfeeding (it’s natural—suck it up), and fluff.

a/n: pulled this one out of the vault for you guys, written last July. hope you like it!

Eddie’s up before you and surprised to see it’s light outside, a sight he hasn’t woken up to in the last couple of months. Two, to be exact.

  That’s when the two of you had brought Penny home.

  Eddie yawned, impressively loud before he slapped a hand over his mouth, gaze flickering to you but you were still asleep; on your stomach with your face partially hidden in your pillow. You’d successfully kicked the sheets off yourself in your sleep, leaving your legs bare and your top half covered with one of Eddie’s larger shirts. 

  One of your legs was bent at the knee and raised up near your elbow.

  God, you always looked so fucking delectable. All he’d have to do is rouse you with some kisses pressed to your neck, settle himself behind you, pull his boxers down and move your panties to the side and he could just—

  Eddie inhaled sharply, tearing his gaze away from your body before his blood could rush off to an area he didn’t have the time to acknowledge, as the very reason he couldn’t partake in his little fantasy cooed from her crib. 

  She’d been the result of a very similar event.

  He took a couple of moments to calm himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he promised, soon.

  Then he got out of bed, snagging a band t-shirt from the dresser as he walked to the crib on the other end of the room.

  Eddie yanked on the shirt—only briefly struggling with the arm holes—before he was peering into the crib, mouth breaking out in a megawatt grin.

  Penny was awake alright, big brown eyed stare focused on a sticker that had been plastered to the wall of his room long before she was even conceived. You’d swaddled her before putting her to bed last night, so she looked like an adorable, content burrito.

  Once she realized Eddie was hovering over her, the sticker lost her attention and those big beautiful eyes were on him, sparkling as her mouth parted in a gummy smile big enough to rival his own. 

  Daddy came to rescue her from confinement. 

  “Hi, baby, good morning!” Eddie cooed, trying his best to excitedly whisper so as to not disturb you, but he couldn’t help it. He was still so thrilled—and fucking terrified—to be a dad, to have that cute face peering up at him every morning and waiting for him when he got home from work. She always looked at him like he was the greatest thing to walk the earth, always so delighted to see her daddy.

  Even though she’d start crying for you the moment you came into view—but you had an advantage he lacked, you always had her food on you. Her walking meal ticket.

  And Eddie couldn’t even blame her, he was a huge fan of your boobs and he’d even bet he appreciated them more than Penny. 

  Eddie reached into the crib, tugging the tucked in corner of the blanket out and as the blanket around her loosened, Penny’s arms shot up near her head, her tiny body arching as she stretched for a comically long period of time. Eddie chuckled, using it to his advantage, he slipped an arm behind her back and head with the other supporting her bottom as he picked her up, pressing a kiss to her head (and giving her hair a secret little sniff to get a whiff of that baby scent of hers).

  “Did you sleep good, honey?” He cradled her in one arm, tucked close to his chest as he carried her out of the room to start on breakfast. 

  Penny obviously didn’t answer, head resting against his collarbone.

  “Heard you woke up mom last night—well, early this morning, I guess—with boobie demands.”

  Eddie pulled the fridge open, hovering in front of it as he debated on its contents before selecting the cartridge of eggs.

  He didn’t want to put Penny down, happy to have her curled up in his arms, so a simple breakfast would have to do. A pan was pulled out, so was a little bit of cooking oil and soon Eddie was breaking the eggs out of the shell—angling his body to the side so Penny wasn’t at risk of possible oil splash back—and letting them cook.

  “You like eggs?” Eddie asked, stepping a little ways from the stove as he hitched her higher on his chest and held the eggshells out for her to see.

  She kicked her legs, a roll covered arm shakily reaching out towards the shells but Eddie kept them out of her reach.

  “Uh-uh, no sticky fingers for you, young lady.”

  The shells were tossed in the trash can but Penny didn’t care, twisting her upper so her chest was pressed to his. She gripped his shirt loosely in her chunky fist as she leaned forward and mouthed at his shoulder, effectively soaking the area with her drool before she began to suckle.

  “Jesus, you act like we starve you.” Eddie chuckled, reaching for a recently washed pacifier to pop into her mouth.

  She seemed to prefer it over his shirt, doing a full body sigh once she was suckling on it, with her need partially sated (eddie knew he had about fifteen minutes to wrap up breakfast before she realized nothing was coming from it and would start crying), Penny went back to cuddling into his chest. 

  She was starting to be a little more active—not sleeping as much as she did this time last month but for the most part, her movements were still unstable. She had good neck control (you’d had to pin Eddie down to keep him from picking her up when she’d immediately cry upon being put down for tummy time), she liked to kick her legs like she was about to take off for a marathon, but she still couldn’t quite hold things for long (unless it was hair or fingers) and had yet to roll over without you cheating and nudging her the rest of the way.

  Speaking of making Penny do things…

  Eddie lost to his intrusive thought, rearranging his hold on Penny so he was gently grasping her sides as he placed her feet on the counter. Immediately, she popped down to squat before shooting up again. And then she did it once more, getting comfortable with using her legs.

  She didn’t even seem to wonder why Eddie was making her stand, she was more focused on staring intensely at her own feet.

  Then Eddie made her jump, lifted her up and down and up and down, and when that got her smiling wide enough for her pacifier to fall out of her mouth, Eddie moved onto the cabinets.

  “Go, baby, go!” He turned her on her side, miming the motions of her chunky legs running over the top cabinets like some baby ninja and laughing at how big her smile managed to keep getting, her big eyes squinting with it.

  “What are you doing to my baby?” You asked as you emerged from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

  “She’s gonna be the next Karate Ki—hello.”

  Eddie couldn’t help himself, dark gaze trailing over your figure as you stood there, hair a wreck, no pants, oversized t-shirt—ooh, and a leaking nipple. 

  Eddie’s favorite. Yum.

  You followed his gaze, scoffing at the dark stain growing over your left boob, hand pressing against it to stop it as if you were applying pressure to a wound.

  “It heard her,” You pouted, lip stuck out and wobbling at him as you referenced your body’s response to the sound of your baby. Crying, giggling, whimpering—didn’t matter, your milk ducts went into overdrive, aware that your baby was conscious and could need a feeding. Her baby noises were like a trigger sequence.

  Eddie lifted Penny to his face, pressing fervent kisses into the chub of her cheeks, “Score for you, babe!”

  You rolled your eyes, completely, utterly fond and smitten over the interaction. He briefly abandoned the kitchen to hand her to you after you’d made yourself comfortable on the couch, ready to fall to his knees in adoration.

  You pulled the shirt over your breast, and despite trying to place your nipple in her mouth for her, Penny struggled to find it, mouthing greedily at your boob, her little head turning this way and that way but always missing the peak. 

  “Girl, it’s right there.” You laughed. Penny gave it like four more seconds of trying before her whimpers kicked in and you hurriedly managed to get her to latch, stopping the outburst.

  And just like that, Penny was content, making satisfied little squeaks as she nursed and stared up at you, pretending like she hadn’t been moments away from screaming her lungs out.

  And Eddie was distracted, solely focused on the two of you and how he wanted to roll around on the carpet because the cuteness aggression was almost unbearable. If this was how he would be spending every work-free morning for the rest of his life, he was ready to convert to being a morning person.

  Especially if those big sparkly eyes and that gummy smile would be staring up at him. GOD-she was so stinking cute. He wanted to smother her in his affection, but she was growing annoyed with Eddie all up in her face and squishing the chub she was accumulating. She even cried if he faked chewed on her chunky cheeks for too long.

  “What’s that smell?” You asked, snapping him out of his love stupor as you sniffed loudly.

  “FUCK!” Eddie bolted back to the kitchen, smoke surrounding the pan and what had once been edible eggs, “Hey, honey, what’s your opinion on extra crispy eggs? You a risk taker?”

“The answer to that is hurting my nipple right now.”

“Valid. That was a very fun risk.”

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

[pullhisteeth]

the bone crush | eddie munson

summary you’re five years out of high school and your boyfriend's managed to get famous. some days are harder than others, but he goes to great lengths to make it better. [5.5k]

contains modern!au, fem!reader, rockstar!Eddie/famous!Eddie, established relationship, insecure reader, a fight (kind of), depression, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

something I dreamed up on the train home from work one evening because I was listening to Taylor and getting all emo. lots of love xxx

-

But I don't like a gold rush / I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush / I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch / everybody wants you / everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

-

A tingling sensation spreads from your fingers into your hand, creeping slowly up the length of you arm where it’s pressed between your body and the couch.

You’ve been lying here, on your side on the couch in your apartment, for three hours. The sun’s gone down but you’ve made no effort to move to switch on a light, or to eat, or to do anything, really, besides scrolling mindlessly through every app at your disposal. It began with TikTok, which you opened upon slumping down on the couch after work, still in your stuffy trousers and button-up shirt. It moved to Twitter for a while, then over to Instagram, and back round to TikTok. At one point you even entertained Pinterest, keying doomed phrases into the search bar that you knew would drive you further into the hole.

You’re on Twitter right now. Somehow, you landed on a thread dedicated to the lead guitarist of a well-known rock band. Each new tweet is another photograph of him showing another way that he is, as the poster claims, boyfriend material.

They’re not wrong. The photos are candid shots, taken behind the stage after a gig, or at stage-door late into the night. In each one he looks sleepy, soft, a direct contrast to the gritty stage persona he adopts. He’s got a dopey half-smile or he’s sticking his tongue out; in some, he’s wearing a beanie, and in others he’s got a black hoodie on.

You keep going, reading the replies to each tweet individually, scores of young women cooing over him. Your screen is awash with hearts and flames and flowers, exclamation points and capital letters. 

One of the photos catches your eye. You linger on it for a few minutes, studying the details, reading the replies. You swipe up from the bottom of your screen to close the app, replacing it quickly with your camera roll. You swipe quick, scrolling upwards until you reach your photos from six or seven months ago.

Eddie had been on a tour across Europe. He’d left in February and come home in May, leaving you behind. But in mid-April he’d flown you out to Spain, where the band had a week break between shows. You’d spent six days trawling the streets of a small coastal town, eating your body weight in paella and swimming for hours in the sea. When you got home you’d posted a photo on your Instagram, just one. You like to keep these moments to yourselves, and usually you don’t share much of anything of your life with the world. When you do, though, the fans go wild.

It’s a photo of Eddie at a restaurant. It looks intimate, like it’s just the two of you, though no one’s to know you were surrounded by the band and crew. It was a clear evening, warm and fresh, and he was sat opposite you in a pretty shirt, top three buttons undone so his ink-splattered chest peeked out. He’d tied his hair back, though by this point it was loose, and the ring on the chain around his neck reflects in the light of the candle between the two of you.

He’s looking past the camera, up and over it to your face. You think about what you must have looked like, tongue between your teeth while you got the right shot, head pulled back, the angle unflattering, but it never changed the way he looked at you. The way he always looks at you.

His big, round eyes catch the light, too, deep and rich in the orange glow. His skin’s lit just the same, and so he looks softer than ever. It’s one of your favourite photos of him, which is all the more reason for you to regret ever sharing it.

You take the dangerous leap with this tweet in particular: checking the quote replies. The ones usually hidden from you, only seen if you go looking, which is precisely what you’re doing now. You know this never ends well, only ever leaves you with a deep pit in your stomach, but you have no will to stop yourself.

You know this because this has become routine for you over the past weeks. It’s like a drug, addictive though it does no benefit to you really. Acknowledging that the mean comments sent your way were increasing was your first mistake; seeking them out is where you fell down the hole.

As the window opens, the first tweet you’re greeted with is surprisingly tame and kind, something sweet about how pretty he looks. True.

But then the second, and the third and another a few tweets down, is where it gets bitter. See, when you’re as famous as Eddie is, with such a dedicated following of young girls, your life is never private, and never can be. These girls know who took what picture and when. They think they know how he felt in each one, or who was making him laugh, or where he’d just been. This one is no exception, and their biting remarks resemble thousands you’ve seen before.

He always looks so bored of her.

Surely he can’t enjoy being kept away from the band???

Am I the only one that thinks he hates her lmao

It doesn’t stop there - it goes on for ages, tweet after tweet after tweet of sarcastic or scathing comments about you. Your appearance (which has never been good enough for anyone, apparently), your personality (boring, stuck-up, controlling), and, most commonly, the fact you are a - quote - clout chaser.

Your arm’s completely numb now. You tell yourself that you couldn’t turn your phone off if you tried, despite the fact your thumb is scrolling just fine. You ingest every word, find new fan accounts to trawl and new insults thrown your way to soak up. There are maybe three photos of you online now, and they circulate through these accounts like paper money, exchanged for nothing but the venom of teenage girls. Are they teenagers? You’re not even sure; some of them definitely are, but you’re convinced most of these people are adults.

A call comes through just as you open another series of replies - this time to a thread titled times Eddie Munson looked good enough to eat. It breaks your concentration, your eyes flitting up to the little picture in the corner of the screen.

Eddie.

You can’t bear to answer the phone. You haven’t spoken to him yet today, and the last time you texted him was yesterday, on your lunch break. Sometimes he’s busier than usual; you’re no stranger to a bit of distance.

You let it ring out, the little green telephone going until it stops, the notification sliding back up the screen. Soon enough you get another, for a text, but you swipe it away before you can read the preview.

You stare at the replies for a while, lingering on the ones that claim they could be better girlfriends than her, before finally hitting the lock button and letting your phone drop onto the carpet. You roll onto your back, groaning when the blood rushes back into your arm and the tingling feeling comes back, and muster the energy to push yourself up and stretch.

As the joints in your back and across your shoulders pop, you toe your shoes off and stare blankly at the wall. There's that feeling that always follows these late-night escapades into the depths of the little yet dedicated following Corroded Coffin have amassed: it's a hollow feeling that somehow still fills you entirely. It rips through you, a deep and unwavering yearning for him.

He's been away since August, and now it's October. Two weeks ago, you'd laid here for a few hours after your friends had packed up the dinner party at midnight, looking up at the ceiling, counting the weeks you'd spent with Eddie this year.

So far, it was fewer than you'd spent apart. Of course, watching the man you love do the thing he loves so much is one of life's biggest blessings, but you'd be a fool if you tried to convince anyone that it didn't hurt. Even if you have friends, and your own life, and a job. That clawing yearning, it grows, expanding by the second every time he leaves for another grand tour of some continent somewhere, with his childhood friends and their insatiable libidos, their lowkey stimulant dependencies and the roadies.

He's home in a month, which is really a month and a half but giving yourself more manageable goalposts is something that helps. You're definitely not delusional.

You decide you’ll spend the rest of the evening offline. It’s 9pm, so you strip your work clothes and pull on something comfier. You put bread in the toaster and when it’s done you spread peanut butter on one slice and jam on the other, and on your way to bed you pick your phone up off the floor.

Your offline evening lasts maybe twenty-five minutes. Something about the comfort of bed and the need for something to entertain you while you eat two slices of toast lulls you back to the welcoming arms of evil fans.

It’s 1am when you get another call from Eddie. You managed half a slice of the jam-covered toast before discarding it in favour of your favourite meal - the insults of strangers - and you’ve been curled up in a ball scrolling TikTok for three and a half hours.

Should you answer it? Probably, yeah. For some reason, though, it feels like you’re angry at him, even though he's done nothing. Something spiky flares inside you when he calls, like you’re jealous, or bitter. It’s entirely your own doing and yet you’re punishing him for it.

He calls again when you don’t pick up, and then texts when you let this one ring out too. You try to swipe the notification away again but click it by accident, opening your conversation, which is awash with grey bubbles where he’s tried to reach you with no reply.

The latest one, above the bouncing bubble with three dots, reads: is everything okay?

No, you think to yourself. You watch the dots, addicted to knowledge that he's out there somewhere, texting you after a gig, when everyone else is getting drunk or high or laid. You know this isn’t healthy, but tonight you feel particularly self-destructive.

give me a call when you wake up. xxx

He thinks you’re asleep, so you’re off the hook for now. You can return to your mind numbing, to breaking down your brain cells one by one, until your eyes force themselves shut and your brain winds down, your phone still open in your hand, playing the same video on loop into the night.

It’s a restless sleep, broken too many times and not deep enough to really count as sleep at all. You eventually drift off properly, some time in the early morning, and when you wake, the light’s blinding. You didn’t close the curtains before you went to bed - did you even try to close them at all? - so as the sun’s moved across the room, it’s landed directly over your face. You’re splayed out on your stomach, drool in your hair.

The sun seems high, too high for an autumn morning. You reach around, patting the mattress and your bedside table in search of your phone. With no luck you sit up slowly, groaning, rubbing your sleep-laden eyes.

Your phone’s on the floor beside your bed. You reach it and find that it’s dead, so you tug the charger cable out from where it’s lodged down the side of the bed and plug it in.

For a few minutes you lie there, befuddled, with no idea of the time or how long you were asleep. Impatient, you get out of bed, aching and creaking because of how you slept, and pad across the room to the bathroom. After you pee and dodge your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you head to the kitchen.

The little fluorescent numbers on your stove read 12:08.

Shit.

Turning on your heels, you run back to the bedroom, throwing yourself over the bed onto your stomach. You grab your phone and try to power it up but it’s still flashing the little battery at you, almost like it’s angry you’d even try to turn it on.

Shit, shit, shit.

How long were you out? It’s definitely nearly 12 hours since Eddie last called, and it’s now 48 hours since you spoke to him on your break.

The wait for your phone to come back to life is agonisingly long, a painful three minutes wherein you pace and sit, break out in a sweat, and even start making your bed in desperation.

Finally it buzzes and you jump. As it comes to life it buzzes again, and again and again, and you freak out, dropping it onto the bed.

4 more missed calls from Eddie, and 3 texts. Normal, to be expected with your lack of response.

But the strange thing is the texts from your friends. Each one of them has text you multiple times, at various points since 6am. Even your mum has called, which is strange for a Saturday.

You’re not sure where to begin, so you start with where’s comfortable: Eddie.

I’m worried, sweets. text me soon x

this is getting weird, what’s going on?

any sign of life?

You tap a response quickly, too quick to keep up with yourself. You’re floating in a post-late-night haze, thick with guilt from the night before and head stinging from staring at your screen for so long.

I'm alive! give me a call when you’re free. love you xx

Almost as soon as you hit send, your phone’s buzzing again, Eddie’s name and picture flashing up on screen.

“Hello,” you say quickly as you answer it, bringing the phone to your ear and holding it with both hands, as though it might slip away if you’re not careful.

“Christ, y/n, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry,” is all you can say. He sounds so breathless and it makes your nose burn.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just... I was worried, ‘s’all. Sorry for all the texts.”

“No, it’s okay, I should have called.”

“It’s fine, really, I thought you might be out, after work or something, y’know, didn’t wanna bug you, but-”

“No, Eddie,” you say, cutting him off. “It’s okay, I should have text you or something, I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he says with a light laugh. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, knowing he’ll see right through it anyway, regardless of the fact he’s miles away and hearing you down a phone line.

“What’s up?”

“It’s fine, really, I don’t wanna keep you.”

“’M not busy, sugar. Y’got me for however long ya need.”

“But-”

“Did you, uh... Did you read the news? This morning?”

“What?”

“I think you should, uh, check it. Now.”

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no,” he says, laughing again. “Just...” Your phone buzzes in your hand. You bring it down, setting his call to speakerphone, and see that he’s sent you a link.

You tap it and it opens a webpage. It’s an article on Rolling Stone.

Corroded Coffin postpone US tour.

“What the fuck?”

“Heh...” His nervous laugh sets you on edge, your anxious sweats not letting up.

“What does this-”

“I, uh, I’m about fifteen minutes away.”

“What?!”

“Here, I’ll explain when I’m back, okay? Just... Just please call your mum, will you? And maybe text Robin and Nance back? They’ve been on my back all morning.” And then, before you can protest or ask questions, he says, “I’ll see you soon, sugar. Love you.” The line buzzes. He’s hung up.

You bask in bewilderment for a few seconds, staring at your phone. Your messages app has a little red 57 in the corner - unheard of for you - and you have 5 missed calls - four from Eddie, one from your mum. You call her and tell her you’re okay, and that you’re sorry for the radio silence, and that you’ll tell her everything about the tour when you know more. And then you text your friends back, mostly ignoring the 40 messages in the group chat about the news, telling them the same thing, that you’ll fill them in once you can.

Fifteen minutes passes like an age. You finish making the bed, and then put on some coffee. You tidy away yesterday’s clothes, which you’d left in a pile by the bed, and splash your puffy face with cold water.

Is he angry with you? He didn’t seem angry on the phone. But why is he coming home, and why has the band postponed the tour, because you didn’t pick up the phone for one or two days? Your relationship has been long distance just as much as it hasn’t; going a day without speaking isn’t much to shout about.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are still puffy and there are marks down one side of your face where your bedding’s made indents in the skin. You scrub the sleep from your eyes and the drool from the corner of your mouth and run your fingers through your hair, doing your best to smooth it down.

It’s then that you hear the familiar sound of keys in the door. Just as you round the corner into the hall, sliding across the wood in your socks, you find your boyfriend closing it behind him and setting a bag down on the floor.

You’re moving before you know what you’re doing. Your body caves in from want, from the deep-seated desire to be next to him, and you can’t - won’t - stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. You squeeze him, your arms around his middle, and feel him relax into you as his own come around you. The two of you stand like that for a while, him rocking you gently, and when he pulls you back so he can look at you, he finds that you’re crying.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, pulling you back in again. You slip from his grasp, though, moving so that you can reach up and paw at his face. You plant firm lips on his and let yourself drown in the euphoria of the reunion.

“Eddie,” you pant against his mouth. “Why-”

“Hey,” he laughs. “I’ll explain, okay? Just-” Kiss. “Missed you.” Another kiss.

“I don’t-”

“Are you okay?”

You speak at the same time, but he’s sterner where you’re unsure. He's looking at you with your face in one hand, eyes hard like he’s trying to get you to fess up.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, nodding quickly and ignoring the way the sound bubbles in the thickness of your throat.

“Here,” he says, the firmness ebbing and his face softening. He takes your hand in his and walks you to the living room, past the kitchen where a week's worth of dishes sit beside the sink. If he notices the state of the place, he doesn't say.

He sits on the couch and waits for you to join him.

He watches you when you do, and for a while it’s quiet. There are a hundred questions you have for him, but they dissipate when he holds your face in his hand again, tucking hair behind your ear like he’s in a movie, tracing the fading indents from your sheets down your temple and across your cheek.

You take in the state of him - the wildness of his hair where it’s pulled back into a scrunchie, your scrunchie, and the deep marks of tiredness beneath his eyes. Otherwise, he’s much the same as he was when he left you in August, your rockstar off to wow every state with that skill of his you love so much. He’d taken too long saying goodbye at the airport, nearly missed his flight to Washington, and when he’d finally let you go you’d stayed, sitting in a deserted café, clinging onto the last glimpse you got of him before he was weaved through security by their manager, Jason.

“What’s goin’ on, hm?” he asks, voice soft as ever and sweeter too. It brings you out of your head and you look up at his ridiculous, gorgeous face, his brown eyes burned with sorrow, the scrunch between his eyebrows that appears when he’s concerned.

“Missed you,” you tell him, whispering in case speaking louder will shatter what can surely only be a bitter daydream.

“Why’d you go all cold on me then?” He drops his hand from your face and holds your leg where it’s bent up underneath you.

“Been a bad couple days.”

“How come?”

“Just missed you,” you repeat. It’s all you can think about now he’s here and he’s got his hands on you - how you’ve missed him, his smile, his eyes, his hands, the way he smells, the space on his shoulder where your face fits when you hug him.

“Missed you too,” he tells you. “But I think you’re hidin’ somethin’ from me.”

You groan and twist in your seat, letting your legs drop off the couch, his hand falling to his own lap, and lean your head back. With your eyes shut, you breathe deep.

“Sorry I didn’t text, or call, I just... I’ve been really low.” You hear the tremor in your voice and know he can hear it too. He hopes you don’t hear his heart and the way it breaks at the sound.

“I know you don’t really go online, or whatever-”

“I know what’s been happening,” he says, cutting you off. You open your eyes and turn your head so your cheek’s pressed to the back of the couch and you can look at him. His eyes are harder now, trained somewhere away from your face, though his hand, now resting too on the back of the couch, toys silently with the ends of your hair.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Jason’s been keeping us, uh, updated, or whatever. Showing us some of it.”

His eyes meet yours and he looks back at you with a tenderness that pulls you limb from limb. 

You crumble then, all the emotion of the past few weeks easing out of you like crackling smoke. You lean, without thinking, into his side and cry, wet and heavy sobs, gasping for air. Through cotton-wool ears you can hear him soothing you, feel his hands smoothing up and down your back. You listen as he coos pretty things in your hair and kisses the crown of your head until your breath’s a bit more level.

“Sorry,” you hiccup.

“Stop apologising,” he says, with that same feather-light laugh he had when he told you the same thing on the phone. And then he breathes out, slow, and says, “I knew somethin’ was up last week, when you called me from the store.”

“Oh, yeah.”

You think back to last Tuesday, when you’d been picking up groceries and only just made it back to your car before the tears had spilled over and left you in a miserable puddle in the driver’s seat. You were tired, of what you couldn’t tell: going home to an empty apartment, shopping for one person, the fact you’d had to buy a different shampoo because you’d used Eddie’s up and they didn’t have the one he usually uses at the store.

You’d called him after you’d cried, just to hear his voice, but it had been late in the afternoon wherever he was and he was getting ready to play another show so all he’d been able to say was I love you, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?

It’d left you feeling bereft, worse than ever.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choke out, mind on that evening and the hundreds of others just like it.

“What do you mean?” he asks, taking your hands in his own, his thumb smoothing up and down the sides of your wrists.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you say flatly. “You being away so much, I... It’s so hard, Eds. I know I have friends, and-” Hiccup. “-and they’re great, they’ve been great, Nance and Rob especially, they... We have dinner every week and it’s not like I spend every night here on my own, waiting for you, or whatever, I just... Everything online is so hard to look at but it's also so hard to not look at, it’s so hard to see all these people being so invasive and weird, wanting you all the time, following you around, and sometimes it’s mean and then I think, you know, maybe they’re right sometimes. I miss you, and it hurts and I don’t know what to do because you’re so happy, and I love you and I love your band and you’re so talented but I just... I sit back here, waiting for you. It’s like I’m a... An anchor, or something, y’know? I feel like they’re right, I’m holding you back, I just-”

“Stop it,” he says. You take a well-needed breath and look at him, hearing the way his stern words come out filled with remorse, and find that his eyes are red round the edges and his mouth’s doing that thing it does before he cries.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

He squeezes your hands and says, “No, it’s okay, I just- I hate when you talk like that.”

He takes a breath and, letting go of your hands, pinches the bridge of his nose. After a quiet moment he sits upright and turns to you.

“I never, ever feel held back by you. Do you hear me?”

“I know, I just-”

“I mean it. Never.”

“Okay,” you sigh.

You see him ease a little, leaning back slightly.

“I know you didn’t sign up for this, and the fact you’re still here is honestly... Maybe one of the craziest things ever. I know that it’s been bad recently, I’ve seen some of the stuff online and god knows I have to deal with it in person every time I leave a fucking building, but you can't listen to them, baby. I don’t want any of this if it’s hurting you.”

“Eddie-”

“I’m serious. I’d drop it all, leave it all behind, change my name and flee the country or something, if it meant I’d get to be with you.”

Your nose burns again, and there’s a simmering ache in your temples. You breathe and try to keep the tears at bay but it’s futile; they come without permission and quickly, thick drops down your cheeks.

“When you called last week, I... It broke my heart, sugar, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I had to get different shampoo,” you tell him bluntly, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world to cry over the little red out of stock sticker underneath where the bergamot shampoo would usually be.

He just looks back at you sadly. You’re not sure where to go from here, because whatever outcome you know your heart will break. You could leave him, abandon all of this and start afresh somewhere new, taking your time to mourn the loss but get over it eventually. You could stay, doing this every year for the foreseeable future, playing your role as the doting girlfriend who waits patiently for her world-famous boyfriend to come home. Or Eddie quits, and you live with the guilt of what he’d lose forever.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” he asks you, tapping your forehead softly with his index finger. “Hm?”

“What do we do?” you ask him, as though he's somehow wiser than you when it comes to this.

He toys with your hair again, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m here for now.”

“But you’ll go again,” you remind him.

“Yeah,” he responds reluctantly. “But there’re only two weeks left of tour.”

“But there’ll be another, and then another.”

“Not like this, there won’t.”

“Eddie, you can’t quit. That’s not fair, I can’t expect you to do that, I don’t want you to do that.”

“Who said anything about quitting?”

He’s suddenly got a smile on his face. It’s only small, one side of his mouth pulled up in some kind of mischievous signal.

“You can’t keep making music and not touring, that’s not-”

“I’m not quitting music, baby. Tours just won’t be this long.”

“But you’re getting more famous, you can’t-”

“Let me explain,” he drones playfully, not really fed up with you but playing into it to get you to listen.

“You’re right, you can’t expect me to quit and stay here with you, just like I can’t expect you to drop everything and come with me. I thought about it, y’know, the logistics of you coming but it’s not easy, I mean, we live on a bus for most of the tour and when we are in hotels we’re doin’ press all day, and just ‘cause we could afford it now doesn’t mean I want you to quit your job, or leave your life behind for me or anythin’. But I also... I hate this just as much as you do. I don’t know how it looks to you ‘cause my free time isn’t exactly a lot but I spend literally every minute I have on the phone to you, so much that Gareth’s started really takin’ the piss, givin’ me shit for it...”

He’s laughing and as you let yourself laugh too, feel the heavy weight of distance lifting off you. It’s been so long that you’d almost forgotten how blissful it feels to be sat with him, laughing like this in your little apartment. Almost.

“I’ve got some ideas about how we can make this work,” he continues, “but right now I’m just happy you’re okay.”

“How long are you home for?” you ask him in a low voice, hesitantly, lest you get your hopes up.

“However long you want,” he says softly, tracing the side of your face. “But probably a couple of months.”

“Months?!” you gasp, incapable of controlling your volume. He flinches and laughs again.

“Yeah. Won’t be able to sort new shows for a while anyway.”

The tears return, only this time they’re born of a deep relief. You feel it lift you and you fall into him, gripping on for dear life. Your arms wrap around his middle and your nose rests at his neck, and you squeeze him as hard as you can while he carries on laughing, his own hands matching yours. When his t-shirt is sodden with tears and your arms have eased up he brings you up to meet his eye. As you watch them flit between your own and your lips you get that feeling, the fluttering of a crush deep within. Suddenly you’re both seventeen again, when your biggest worry was whether the boy with long hair in your English class liked you back, rather than all the burdens of early adulthood and fame. And then he kisses you, a true homecoming kiss, warm and firm and sure, and you melt into him, sighing happy noises and kissing him back.

Four hours later, you’re still on the couch. He helped you clean, slowly undoing the wreckage of depression, and you both showered, washed his hair with the shampoo that will become his new smell. You’ve torn through an order of Chinese takeout and you’re halfway through a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, though currently it sits abandoned on the coffee table, the two spoons leaving melted ice cream across the varnished wood.

The conversation - about where you go from here, how you navigate this new life together - is saved for another day.

Right now you’re in his lap, right where you like to be, kissing him senseless and letting him do the same to you.

You dance your mouth across his cheek, down his jaw and onto his throat, over the scattering of pretty, blooming bruises that match your own (just marking what’s mine, he’d told you). When you reach his collarbone, he says, “Maybe we should get a cat.”

You sit upright and look at him quizzically. “A cat?”

“Yeah,” he says, a lazy smile growing. “It’d keep you company when I’m not here, and Nance would love lookin’ after it when we're away."

You dwell on the idea, your eyes dancing across his face which glows a pretty shade of pink in the low living room light.

“Okay,” you agree, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get a cat.”

-

One month later, you pick up Ozzy from the pound. He’s a baby, really, small but filled with restless energy. He’s black with white socks and though you dote on him endlessly, it’s Eddie he truly falls for.

At least you have something in common.

-

[eddiemunsonrulesmylife]

T(h)rash Metal

Saw this meme and obviously had to re-create it with Eddie 😂

Patreon

[fortnightdjo]

Does anyone wanna talk about oc’s? Specifically stranger things oc’s :( I have a couple characters I wanna talk about but idk who to talk about it with.

[littlest-dark-age]

Day 1 : Fall out in the cold star light

Stalker eddie can't seem to keep his hands to himself

tw : somno, thigh fucking, pet names (precious angel, baby, good slut), eddie calls himself daddy, delusional eddie, slight degradation, mentions of eddie following reader. If I missed anything, please let me know

Eddie knows he shouldn't feel like this, and that his feelings towards you shouldn't push him to do illegal actions. Especially when the town already is convinced he sacrifices goats behind his trailer, yet he can't seem to help it. Finding himself standing in front of your house well past midnight, with such perverse intentions. 

He didn't mean to sneak in while you were home the first time it happened and panicked when he saw your sleeping form tucked into your cozy bed. You had said that you'd be staying the night with Robin whenever he was watching you in the library. Yet in the few hours that he wasn't staring at the back of your head and straining his ears to hear your words, something had come up for her to not be able to have you over that night. Eddie quickly decided that this, being able to watch over you as you rested peacefully unaware of him so close, was better than shoving his face in your pillow and blowing his load all over your poor teddy bears. This is where such a dirty and disgusting habit was born. Sneaking in when he knew you were at home and daring himself to do more and more every night, silently hoping you'd wake in the midst of him touching you. 

Eddie climbs the vine covered lattice panel until he's able to grab onto the edge of your cracked window and hauls himself into your room. Instantly being welcomed by the gentle glow of your little lamp tucked away on the corner of your desk and the sight of you, slightly snoring with your face squished into the pillow. 

A smile spreads across his face at the sight of you, his sweet angel, before he shrugs off his jacket and vest and carefully kicks off his beat up shoes near the window. Eddie shuffles over to the side of your bed in the dim light, trying to be quiet so as to not wake you. He bends down and softly strokes your exposed cheek with his large, warm hands. A bolt of excitement running through him like it always does whenever he gets to feel you, even if it's something as simple as resting his hand on your cheek. 

Growing bolder at the fact that you didn't stir at the light touch, he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and another to the tip of your nose. Resting his own forehead against yours, Eddie closes his eyes and simply breathes you in for a moment. Before he mixes your intoxicating scent with his own. 

"I love you so much baby. Can't ever get you out of my head but I'm not sure if I want to." His gentle mumbles seem so loud in the calm air of your bedroom. 

Slowly standing all the way up, he begins to crawl onto the bed with you. Stilling when his weight causes the springs to creek as he examines your face for any signs of your waking while he has one knee on the bed, perched on the soft mattress to be as close as he possibly can be. The closeness and your scent causing his cock to stir in his ripped jeans and making them even tighter on him. 

Eddie is finally able to settle in and lay down next to your sleeping body, tucking himself into your neck as he slides his hands over your blanket covered side. Slowly rubbing up and down the length of your side before beginning to tug the soft blanket down, little by little. Revealing your cute pajamas that you got for your birthday last year that also happened to be your favorite, at least that's what you told Robin. He feels like he knows you so well yet is still so far away from you, as if you were the sun and he was the moon. Forced away from one another, yet Eddie couldn't resist your pull. Always wanting to keep you in view, needing to know every scrap of information you would give him. Even if you didn't know you were giving it to him. You consumed Eddie in every way possible and had to know you did, it's why you never bothered to lock your window or the reason you'd always wear such cute night clothes when you knew he was going to sneak in. At least, that's what Eddie convinced himself to push the guilt down of cumming into your underwear the first time. Now he doesn't care, too high on the feeling of you and being able to feel you. 

Blinking away the thoughts that flood his corrupt mind, Eddie shifts you carefully onto your back and finishes tugging the covers down to your thighs. 

"My precious angel….god, look at you. You were teasing me today, weren't you? Showing off those legs during gym because you missed me? You don't have to slut yourself out like that just because I've been busy, honey. Daddy was just busy, that's all. Didn't forget about you….not one bit." Eddie practically purrs out into the silence of your room while fumbling with the knot on the drawstrings of your pajama bottoms. 

He pulls down the bottoms and lifts your legs ever so slightly, giving himself just enough room to wiggle between them. His cold rings grazing your warm and soft skin as he looks down at you from sitting on his knees. Free hand reaching down to unzip and pull his half hard cock out of his jeans, hissing at the cold. Shifting his hips so he can rut against your thigh, brows furrowing at the feeling of your pillow soft skin. 

The sound of Eddie's jeans ruffling against your sheets fill the room along with the quiet squeaking of your bed as he rubs himself against your thighs. Eagerly tugging up your top to reveal your chest, he leans down and presses sloppy open mouthed kisses all over your stomach. Hunched over your body, covering every possible inch of skin with his drooly kisses, slowly making his way up your chest and around your nipples. Flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud and moaning at the taste of your skin. 

"Hold on baby, sorry, gonna rearrange you a bit," he shuffles around so both of your legs are to the left of him and pressed together, trapping his cock between your thighs ",there we go. Fuck…" 

Eddie slowly starts to pump his cock between your legs, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head back. Imagining how much better it would feel to actually be in you. 

"No no no, not yet. Want you awake when I finally fuck you. Wanna watch you struggle to take my cock, gonna stretch you out so fucking good. Its tempting though, fucking you awake. Watching that peaceful face turn to shock when you realize what's going on. See those pretty eyes roll back when you feel how good I am to you, that I'm doing all of it to make you feel good." He rambles to the ceiling, hips slapping against your thighs and making them jiggle with every thrust. The mental image of you spread out on his dick causing the knot in his stomach to tangle even further, bolts of pleasure running through him as sweat starts to form on his hairline. 

Jaw dropping as he tries to bite back his moans, whines and hushed whimpers still escaping. Wanting so badly to be able to moan out your name like a prayer but knowing it wouldn't end well if your parents found the town freak corrupting and using their child's body for his own sick desires. The thought of them, and the whole town, knowing that you're his nearly sends him over the edge. You'd be branded with the mark of the beast in their minds and so he'd get you all to himself for whatever he wanted. 

Eddie yanks your underwear hurriedly, holding up one of your legs against him so he can tug on his weeping cook. Gripping himself, he quickly begins to fuck his fist. Pressing kisses to your calf that's resting on his shoulder, the knot in his belly finally snapping as he cums all over you. Thick white spurts coating your precious skin as his whole body shudders. Hips pumping into his slick fist so he can give you every drop of his cum as he pants. 

"Fuck, take it. Take it like a good slut for daddy. That's it baby, that's it…" He rasps out with closed eyes before gulping and beginning to adjust your clothes. Rubbing your underwear into his cum to make a nice wet spot that you'll get embarrassed about in the morning. 

Eddie takes a moment to make sure his knees won't give out as he's climbing back down your lattice paneling, watching your chest rise with every breath. Thinking about how tomorrow during lunch, you'll tell Robin that you think you might need to see someone for leaving such a large wet patch in your underwear over a dream. Not knowing that the town freak, Eddie munson, was the cause

[flecker-illustrates]

I was so excited about drawing her and thought I'd try filming the final stage with a makeshift stand for the first time. You can watch the reel on my last post, and this is the result :)

I loved drawing her so much💕

[xxbottlecapx]

I liked your post about Steve having focal seizures and Eddie figured it out because he happened to be familiar with them because of past experiences, but tbh Robin seems like she could also be someone who could pin that down. We've seen her talk about medical stuff before, specifically with the rabies rant, but I'd like to think she often looks at conditions and she finds them morbidly interesting. Can I get a version where Robin is the first to notice? I'm thinking Billy caused them, but they happen seldom until the Russians make them worse, so she notices something but doesn't piece together that he's not just being stupid until after the Russians, but you can decide how you want to do it if you even decide to

You are absolutely right. I’m not entirely proud of how this came out but this is what I got, I hope it’s okay 💜💜

1985 scoops ahoy, before the fire. 

Robin didn’t know much about Steve Harrington. 

Well, that was a lie. She was a people watcher, after all. Robin knew a lot about Steve Harrington. She knew he had been the self proclaimed (Tommy-proclaimed) King of Hawkins High. That is, until Billy Hargrove smashed his face in and Steve started rolling around with a band of middle schoolers. His downward spiral had started with Nancy Wheeler and ended with Billy Hargrove (and Jonathan was, she had been told, somewhere in the mix.) 

Steve was bad at school but good with people, bad at reading but good at speaking, bad at instruments but good with sports. Good at making friends but bad at keeping them. 

He had graduated alone. No one was there with him when he left Hawkins high that final time. As far as Robin was aware, no one seemed to care when he left at all. Robin only noticed because she was a people watcher. She liked to know things. She liked to know things about people in any way she could. At first it had just been her wanting to mimic whatever it was that King Steve did that made Tammy Thompson like him, but it quickly became a fascination. She couldn’t even tell you why. But the longer she watched him, the more intrigued she got. Especially after Billy Hargrove. 

Either way, no matter what she did or did not know about Steve Harrington; The Steve Harrington she knew of from highschool was definitely not the Steve Harrington that applied to Scoops Ahoy. 

“Hi, uh, I’m- Steve,” The King Steve said. He was wearing the proper Scoops Ahoy Gear, but his hat was one backwards. 

Robin hadn't been told she was getting a new coworker. Yesterday, Daksha seemed absolutely fine. But today she was gone. And in her place was the former King Steve, in all his lack of glory. 

“What about Daksha?” Robin said instead of greeting him in kind. He hadn’t been a nice guy. Never picked on her specifically, but Tommy sure did. 

Steve doesn’t seem miffed by her deferral. 

“Who?” 

Robin rolls her eyes, grabs his hat to put it on him correctly, and hands him Daksha’s scooper. It was bright pink, bedazzled. She expected some sort of denial but Steve only holds the scooper so stiffly she thinks he might break the handle. 

“I’m Steve.” He blinked rapidly. 

Robin crossed her arms, leaning against one of the tubs of icecream that she liked to steal from when her manager, Kanan, wasn’t looking. She wondered if he would tell on her. 

“Yeah, I know” 

“Sorry, sorry, who-“ he squinted at her, then shook his head and pulled in his shorts. They were definitely too short for him. “Who are you?” 

Robin thinks about the name tag on her shirt in bright teal. “Moira.” 

“Nice. Uh. What do I do?” Steve takes it in stride, wandering around the room without any deemed purpose. He swallows hard once, twice, and follows Robin as she opens up shop. She makes him sweep the floor three times and he doesn’t complain once. 

Eventually, she has to turn the closed sign around. “Use that Harrington charm to get more tips.” She tells him when he just blinks at her some more. “I’ll handle scooping for now.” 

Robin is a people watcher. She learns that a few things on her Steve Harrington list need an upgrade. 

The Steve Harrington from Scoops Ahoy was nothing like Steve Harrington from Hawkins High. For one thing, that Harrington charm? Didn’t exist anymore. 

This is how the You Rule, You Suck board is born. 

“Why’s there a scar in your head?” She asks him, about a month into working together. 

“Uh- got in a fight.” Is all she gets. She stares at his shaking hands, and doesn’t mention it again. 

She doesn’t have to, it seems, because the middle schoolers that follow Scoops Steve around like a flock of confused ducklings are very quick to sing his praises. 

“You know Billy Hargrove?” Dustin asks one day. He’s hiding in the break room with her. A dude had been hitting on her for weeks so whenever she sees him, Steve takes his order and Robin flees. She sits on the table and stares intensely on the bundle of bananas right next to her. They’ve become Steve’s favorite food. 

“Who doesn’t?” She says in answer. Robin was, after all, still in school. 

She hasn’t known Dustin long, and she doesn’t really understand how or why Steve likes him so much, but she does know that Dustin can talk for hours. 

“I heard you asking Steve about that scar on his head. Billy, he had a thing against Lucas dating his sister,” Dustin starts, and Robin sighs before hanging herself half off the table despite her clear interest. She couldn’t let Dustin find out he had gotten her attention. 

“Because Lucas is black, so Max and I and Lucas were hiding at his house- for unrelated reasons, and Steve had to fight Billy or Billy was gonna kill Lucas.” 

Robin sits up so quickly she almost throws up. 

“It wasn’t good. Billy slammed his head in the ground a lot and hit him with a plate. We thought Steve was dead but then Max drugged Billy so we got out all right.” Robin isn't even able to process that information before Dustin is walking out the backdoor that leads to the theater. “I don’t even think Steve went to the hospital after.” 

It’s that last line that makes Robin look just a little bit harder, later in that day, when Steve’s hand is trembling too much for him to write on the chalkboard. 

And that faint fascination that Robin had previously had on King Steve quickly hopped like a flea on to Scoops Steve. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

There are many things that Robin knew about Scoops Ahoy Steve. 

She knew he had a favorite scooper- one that was just a little larger than the rest, with a different type of handle. Easier to hold, he said. 

She knew he couldn’t read what was on the menu, and that when she made him write their Scoop Of The Day on the chalkboard, the words didn’t always make sense (sometimes there wouldn't even be letters, just scribbles). 

She knew he couldn’t charm a girl to save his life, and sometimes when he spoke, the words didn’t make sense. She knew that sometimes his hands couldn't grab things (usually only for a minute at a time) and he liked to stare into space until she had to wack him upside the head.  

She also knew that Scoops Steve was very likely her best friend. Robin of a few months ago would have rioted at the very thought. But he was funny, and really nice, if a little confusing sometimes. He loved his little gremlin children and let her talk about her favorite interests that no one else was interested in (like zoonotic diseases, the differences in grammar structures in certain languages, and the central nervous system) 

Like Dustin said; A little dumb, slow on the uptake, but kind. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Robin knows a lot about Steve Harrington. Things that she knows no one else knows. 

She knows that he purposefully harassed the Russian guards so they would beat him instead of her. She knows he spent his senior year fighting monsters, probably also did it before that. She knows that for all that confidence Steve exudes, he is achingly lonely. She knows that despite Steve not knowing anything about the queer community, his first instinct isn’t to belittle her, but to crack jokes to make her laugh. Even high off his ass, his immediate response was to try and make her feel better. The popular, rich, straight white guy treated her better in that moment than anyone else she had ever met. 

Most of all, she knows what it feels like to lay bleeding in an underground Russian bunker and believe, if only for a second, that Steve is dead. 

1986, Family Video, before Vecna. 

Robin grabbed a Terry’s Bitz bar from the candy section up front and tore into it. She hadn’t been able to eat at school. Every once in a while she would somehow get reminded of the Russian elevators and all that untapped trauma would leak out of her. Steve was, at this point, her emotional support human, and she really wished he hadn’t graduated, just like that guy Eddie Munson in her band class. She doubted she would ever get to talk to that one, though. 

She could hear Steve mumbling where the fuck am I? At the register before turning around and ducking under the register to grab at a fallen tape. 

“That one goes in the aisle with the pink stickers.” Robin reminds him. She had put small colorful stickers on each row of shelves because Steve had a hard time distinguishing what she wanted if she just said aisle three. 

Steve stared into space for a moment before nodding and walking that way with the tape, his left hand making a fist, relaxing, making a fist again. 

As always, Robin follows Steve around even when she isn't scheduled to work that day. It just means she gets to hang out with her best friend and laugh at him when he has to organize shelves by himself, taunting him about her Freedom. She does her biology homework behind the counter, staring at a map of the musculoskeletal system. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

There are a lot of differences between Scoops Ahoy Steve and Family Video Steve. 

Scoops Ahoy Steve couldn’t write legible sometimes, maybe 2 times a week. Family Video Steve couldn't write anything legible sometimes too, but five times a week instead of 2. Robin knows because she’s counted. 

Scoops Ahoy Steve didn’t get migraines (only headaches). Family Video Steve did. Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't throw up three times a week the way Family Video Steve did. Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't see the need to join Robin’s Yoga class offers the way Family Video Steve very easily caved into it. 

Don’t get her wrong- there are good differences, too. Family Video Steve will casually joke about her stealing his dates in a way Scoops Ahoy Steve didn't. Family Video Steve shared secrets with her, was more patient, acted less like a mom and more like an annoyed brother. Family Video Steve could admit he had a massive crush on the guy that ran the Hellfire club, who he's never talked to since he only sees him when he picks Dustin up (and of course, pretends to hate him). Family Video Steve, somehow, was even more of a best friend than Scoops Ahoy Steve. 

And Robin was a people watcher. That faint fascination she had taken to King Steve was now focused full-fledged on Family Video Steve. Her best friend. Her favorite person in the world, who sometimes forgot where he was, sometimes had bouts of confusing emotions he didn’t know how to deal with, moments where he struggled getting words past his lips, and trembling hands and legs that sometimes made him drop the tapes he organized at Family Video. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

I tried to get Steve to help me with my math homework, she had heard Dustin say. but I don’t know what this says.

You could have asked me, doofus. Steve can’t write for shit. Was Erica's reply. 

Robin knows that they don’t know that Steve heard them. This is also how she knows that it must be a bad day. Steve can write, she’s seen him do it, it’s just hard on other days. And his emotions can make things worse. She knows it’s going to be a bad day not because of Steve’s writing, but because she knows he heard Dustin and Erica say it. 

Robin was a people watcher. She knows that Steve’s picked up on whatever it is that changed him. Maybe he hadn’t, before the Russians, but she did. She knew him before the illegal drugs and head trauma that changed Scoops Steve to Family Video Steve. When she looked back, and remembered King Steve, even more differences were apparent. 

Despite the party’s claim that they were all baby geniuses, none of them have picked up on it. It didn’t make sense. But then Robin tried to think harder, use her deduction skills. 

Steve had protected these kids for years. They called him their mother. Children often can’t find fault with their parents. Sure, the party was old enough to start seeing it, but trauma can affect young minds in really confusing ways. It was very possible that the upside down had hurt their little group of freshmen (and Erica) in ways they couldn’t see. OCase in point- their protector, Steve, was different now. It’s possible they were, deep down, afraid of what it would mean if there was more change added to their traumatically changing lives. Steve was a pillar to them. More of a hero of stories than man.

So she tries to give them a pass. She really does. But she sees the look on Steve’s face when Dustin says it. Steve would never admit it, but Dustin and Erica were his favorites. Robin knew that what they thought mattered more than anything. Anyone else making jabs at Steve’s intelligence washed off him like he was covered in healthy duck feathers. And Steve wasn’t an idiot the way they thought he was. Your ability to hand-write or speak didnt dicacte your intelligence. They were just teenagers who hadn’t been taught that yet. 

Dustin and Erica weren’t inherently malicious. She knew they weren’t. She would just have to find a way to show the party that Steve wasn’t an idiot.

Of course, only three days later, a cheerleader dies in a drug dealer's basement, and her whole world is torn apart. 

1986, Borders Book Store, after Vecna. 

Robin couldn’t take it anymore. On her day off, she rushes to the library, which had very narrowly escaped the Vecna-induced earthquake. It had taken 2 weeks to kill him properly, but they had done it. That didn’t mean the town was allowed to quickly forget, though. 

Luckily for Robin and Steve, so many people moved away that there were multiple job casings still open. This was good because Steve got fired 2 times and whenever Steve got fired, Robin left too. Despite his very clear pros (like being a chick magnet) other places of employment didn’t fit him. 

Anyways. Robin checks herself into the cramped biological sciences section. She takes out a list of symptoms written on ratted yellow lined paper from her back pocket, and she starts to read. 

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“What?" Steve replies, later, when she comes to him with an improvised list and a stolen library textbook. 

“Please, just listen.” She begged. They were on the floor, behind the counter of their current workplace. Sometimes if the streetlights were flashing, they’d get too scared to go home and just spend the night here. “It explains everything.”

“I can't- no, Robin.” He crossed his arms, then held himself in a tiny ball. His shoulders hunched in on themselves. “I know what a seizure looks like.” He whispered. 

“You know what one type of seizure looks like.” Is Robin’s rebuttal. “There are so many different kinds.” 

Steve swallowed hard once, twice, his left hand clenched and unclenched a few times. He nods, and lets her open the book. 

And öh, but of course, Sources 

Steve’s favorite food being bananas comes from this site, sometimes bananas help with epileptic seizures https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5855373/

Some of Steve’s symptoms come from here https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/seizure/symptoms-causes/syc-20365711

Some tips for what to do when someone has a seizure https://www.nationwidechildrens.org/conditions/seizure-care

One of Robin’s special interests is the central nervous system,  which houses the brain, which is typically where seizures come from/originate. https://kidshealth.org/en/teens/brain-nervous-system.html

80’s Candy references, I cant promise you these were available in Indiana so just ignore that if they weren’t https://www.eightieskids.com/greatest-chocolate-bars-1980s/5

Steve’s spasms in his hands during seizures are caused by the connection of the brain to the musculoskeletal system, https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/14526-musculoskeletal-pain 

Steve self-rehabilitates himself with Yoga, it's a recommended exercise use for seizure patients https://lonestarneurology.net/blog/physical-activity-in-epilepsy/

I don’t know how libraries work since I’ve never been to one so if there’s inaccuracies, ignore it 

And of course, If my interpretation of a focal seizure is inaccurate, I do apologize. this one was a bit more general in the 'brain damage' section, though.

[talesof-old]

your beauty never ever scared me | r.b.

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, demon!robin, overstimulation, use of a dildo (f receiving), robin’s kinda mean in this one (ish), not proofread, not edited

word count: 349

kinktober series

robin knows exactly how to make you feel like you matter the most to her

prompt: overstimulation

masterlist

You’d lost count of how many times Robin had made you come.

Sweat clung to your skin like a second skin and you moaned brokenly as Robin thrusted the dildo in and out of you. The sounds of your slick filled the air and you couldn’t help the way your back arched as the tip of the dildo grazed something deep in you. Your gaze was foggy as you stared up at Robin, her eyes completely black as she watched you with something akin to care.

All of this started when you’d seen her eyeing someone on the walk home, a pretty girl with blonde curls and an ass you envied. She’d rolled her eyes and pulled you in for a kiss when you’d confronted her, simply saying that you were cute when you were jealous.

That wasn’t the response you wanted.

Instead, a fight had ensued, one that ended with her revealing that she couldn’t let herself get too close to you out of fear. She was terrified that you would eventually see her as she actually was: a demon.

You reached for her, hands trembling as you cupped her face and whined, words failing you. She smirked, leaning forward until she hovered over you. Your head fell to the side at a particularly hard thrust, eyes unfocused as painful pleasure washed over you. You caught the outline of her shadow for a brief second, something monstrous compared to the form your girlfriend so often took.

“Look at you, so fucked out you can’t even speak.”

She was laughing, the sound ringing in your ears like a thousand bells. You let out a hoarse sound, arching your body into hers until she pressed her lips to yours, something sharp pricking at the skin on your lips. She licked at the blood coming from the wound, humming as your body trembled.

“You’re my favorite, beautiful. Could never love someone like I love you.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as yet another orgasm washed over you, your mind buzzing.

She cooed, nuzzling her nose against yours.

[strawberrybyers]

happy one year anniversary to mike wheeler landing in california and proceeding to be the gayest mf in the room. god bless that kid i love him <3

[ryan-waddell11]

these are the same energy to me. no I will not be explaining.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

(dad!eddie x mom!reader)

Summary: Eddie has to shower before he can hold his impatient baby. She's having none of it.

a/n: i was attacked by yet ANOTHER cute baby tiktok so here we are with a little bit of grease monkey!eddie and another little drabble. set in the early days of the pennyverse. and yes, i've used this gif before but he's dead so i'm running out of them. mistakes might be fixed later, i dont know :)

“Are these your little fingers?” You asked your baby, tone saturated in honey and affection as you held the chunky palm in question, lips pressed to her pudgy fingertips. 

  Despite your aversion to it prior to your pregnancy, you’d inevitably developed a baby voice when Penny had come into the world and you couldn’t be blamed. Not when she was all squish, delicate cheeks holding so much chub they bulged, and rolls decorated her little limbs. She was a glutton, always demanding your milk and you couldn’t deny her; those big, gorgeous eyes she’d inherited from her father made it nearly impossible to, even when the wetness welling up in them were completely alligator tears. And those curls. 

  Regardless of taming them with some water, a brush and maybe some vaseline, they ended up wild, flying about or mussed and matted to her head with sweat because your baby was a little heater when she slept and napped. Just like her daddy.

  Your smile widened in size when you heard the sound of keys slotting into place at the front door, the lock mechanism giving away. It tripled when you realized your baby also recognized the sound, head turning to stare at the door as she bobbed in place, thick legs squatting and then popping back up as you held her by her waist with your other hand, assisting her with standing.

  The moment Eddie opened the door and came into view she began cooing and squealing in excitement, mouth parting in a wide smile as drool raced down from the corner of her mouth.

You laughed, and so did Eddie as he heard his baby welcoming him home.

  “You excited to see me, sweet pea?” He cooed right back, walking over to squat in front of the two of you, eyes raking over you momentarily in appreciation before focusing on the little one in your arms. 

  She let out another long coo that ended on an airy sigh, pulling her hand from your grasp to reach both of her pudgy ones out to him, practically begging him to hold her as she began wiggling in your arms.

  Eddie’s head tilted, lips curling into the most tender smile as he stared down at her with nothing but love swimming in those eyes he’d shared with her. 

  “Daddy missed you and mommy so much.” He whispered, a hand reaching out, almost close enough to caress her soft cheek but it hesitated before he could touch her. His rough, grease covered finger was a stark contrast to her clean, smooth skin. Clearly, you’d given her a bath before he got home because her mouth and cheeks were usually covered in the food you were starting to offer her (sometimes baby food, but mostly bits of your food because she wouldn’t accept any offerings of mushed up veggies and fruits if there was something else on your plate, hence why your diet had been pretty bland and not at all a result of the tight budget your maternity leave left you on).

The rest of his hands were no better, palms stained, streaks all over his arms as a result of shucking the top half of the monkey suit and rolling up his sleeves at the garage. 

  There were even a few streaks of grease and maybe oil on his face and neck. Your husband smelled more so of tires than he had the spicy cologne that surrounded you when he’d kissed you goodbye in bed this morning. 

  And he knew it.

  Penny didn’t let that stop her, still eagerly reaching out for him as she grunted to try and provoke him in swooping her up into his embrace.

  “As soon as daddy’s clean, okay? I’ll pick you up and my sweet girl can give me all the cuddles she wants.” He promised, hands on his knees before he stood back up, leaning over her to give you a sweaty, greasy oh so sweet and firm press of the lips kiss before he swiveled around and disappeared into the small bathroom as quickly as he could to be out of hearing range when Penny began whimpering at his absence. 

  You heard the shower start running at the exact moment she began to cry and you offered a sympathetic whine of your own as you adjusted your grip on her, bringing Penny up to your chest, your cheek smushed against her more plump one.

  “Shhh…it’s okay, my love. Daddy’s just showering. He’ll be back.” You stood up, hitching Penny on your hip as you walked to the entrance of the small hallway so the bathroom door was visible to her. Eddie’s humming floated out from underneath the crack of it. 

  Penny was Eddie’s daughter, alright, full of dramatics as her breathing remained heavy, chest rising and falling quickly with the hitches in her breath as a chunky fist gripped onto your blouse, lower lip curling out and wobbling. She didn’t seem satisfied with your explanation but that didn’t worry you. If Penny was awake when Eddie left for work in the morning, she’d start bawling. 

  The first couple of times she’d started reacting to his departure, he’d ended up full of guilt and late to work. It still wasn’t easy for him, even after you’d finally convinced him she’d have the same reaction whether he left in the morning, afternoon, or evening. Regardless of the time, she was going to be upset that she wouldn’t be able to see her daddy, probably convinced in her little baby mind that he’d abandoned her (he’d nearly quit the shop when you’d phrased it like that) but he’d always come home to her—and you—and that’s what mattered.

  You were positive she’d start yelling and shrieking when it came time for you to go back to work, too. She was just a baby, so she was being a baby.

  You carried your huffing and puffing daughter back to the living room, placing her down on the carpet in front of some toys she had been playing with earlier in the day. Maybe they’d distract her.

  Wrong.

  She sat on the carpet, chunky legs strewn out for just a few seconds before she was moving forward onto her belly and propping herself up. Then she was off, crawling as fast as she could towards the hallway while breathing heavily with exhilaration. You trailed after her, amused at how stubborn she was when she stopped directly in front of the bathroom door, propping herself up on her bottom.

  You watched Penny reach out with shaky palms, pressing them gently against the door. It looked like they were feeling around it before she began slapping them against it as hard as she could as she yelled her baby babble, no doubt demanding her daddy open the door, pick her up and love her right now.

  Giggles were muffled into your palm, as she kept up with it. 

  Eventually, maybe when she realized that wasn’t working, Penny leaned over, wiggling around until she was on her tummy and the side of her head was resting on the carpet. You realized she was trying to look under the door for him and your heart clenched, hand flying over your chest as if you could grasp the organ.

  You expected her to sit back up and go back to smacking the door but she remained there, a stubby finger absentmindedly trailing through the carpet as she stared through the thin crack, warm bathroom light and Eddie’s voice flooding out from underneath to comfort her as she waited.

  Picking her up had crossed your mind, and so did the idea of how loudly she’d probably start screaming and crying if you did. 

  The two of you didn’t have to wait for long, the shower shut off and you could hear the sounds of the shower curtain rings scraping against the rod as Eddie pulled them back. 

  Panic briefly filled your chest as you realized Eddie probably wasn’t expecting his baby to be lying on the floor directly outside of the bathroom—he’d step on her, so you called out, “Heads up, Eddie, you’ve got a visitor.”

  You didn’t hear a response, but a few moments later, the door opened to reveal your husband. Water droplets slipped down his neck and chest. He had one towel—that had definitely seen better days—wrapped around his waist and another (yours) he was using to scrunch up his sopping wet curls to dry them.

  Eddie had heard you, shooting you a smirk before he addressed the baby beaming up at him, “Shower’s free if you wanna hop in, stinky.”

  Penny had no idea what he was saying, it didn’t matter anyways because he said it in the same voice he used when he gave her kisses and held her to his chest so she was reaching up for him and he finally reached down—with clean hands—grasping her sides before she was hoisted into his arms. Penny wasted no time, mouth parting wide to mouth aggressively at his face and chin while she shook her head and wiggled about.

  She was giving him kisses.

  Or trying to eat him, she had little bursts of energy where she’d do that—attack you out of nowhere while you held her causing the both of you to break out laughing.

  Eddie let her get it all out, and when she cooed, resting her cheek on his shoulder, he retaliated. Her cheeks and little neck rolls were smattered in his smacking kisses as she squealed and shrieked and wiggled but there was no escaping her daddy’s clutches now that she was finally in them. 

  When every inch of her available to him had been kissed, he turned towards you and you suddenly found yourself victim to two sets of identical crinkly brown eyes. A deep chuckle rumbled from Eddie as he padded over to where you stood, mischievous smirk making another appearance.

  “Mommy’s turn.”

[adankrivervalleynearyou]

the face Mike made after Will said "well we used to be best friends"

I AM UNWELL

[farraigenafeile]

these are so fun to make omg

[eddiemunsonrulesmylife]

Some personal DIY

Was feeling crafty and experimental so I attempted to make a homemade Steddie pin with clay and resin and I have to say, I’m quite pleased with the result!! :)

Patreon

[munsoninthedark86]

Every Day is Halloween(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

words: 1,1k

warnings: general smuttiness, making out, heavy petting, vaginal fingering, vulgar words, drug use.

It’s Halloween night. You have nothing to do. No party to go to. You’re bored as all hell. You want to find something to do. Breaking you out of your superficial thoughts, the phone rings. You answer slowly, lighting up a cigarette at the same time.

“Glad you picked up, babe. I was wonderin’ if you were coming over.” Eddie’s voice came through from the other line.

You smirk, “I thought you were busy with Hellfire club tonight,” Eddie had been planning a special Halloween campaign for tonight, but it must have fell through.

“Nah babe. The kiddos wanted to go out tonight. So I’m just sitting here alone, waiting for my baby to come to me.”

You take another drag of your cigarette. “Be there in ten.”

Inside the trailer, you follow Eddie to his bedroom. The place has been slightly decorated for Halloween, but this is mostly an effort from your part. Since the beginning of the month, you’ve been bringing a little decoration with yourself to decorate the trailer. You knew it needed a little holiday spirit.

In Eddie’s room, you drop the bag of candy on his bed and settle on the floor to kick off your shoes. Eddie sits at his desk, and he watches as you begin rummaging through the tapes for something to listen to. Recently the two of you have been listening to all kinds of stuff, but tonight you want something classic. You pop it into the tape player and you press play.

When you turn to face Eddie, he’s smirking at you. He pats his lap, and he beckons you over. You saunter over to him, and you straddle him. Eddie chuckles at your neediness.

“Thought you were feeling a little needy for me. But you were playing shy, weren’t you?” You shake your head no, but he’s just smirking again.

“C’mon baby, don’t play coy with me like this.” Eddie teases. He presses a kiss to your lips. “Though, you are very cute like this.”

He picks up the joint from his desk and lights it up. Eddie takes a few puffs before passing it to you.

“I know I’m not a drunken Halloween party,” you pass him back the joint and he takes a hit. “But we can have our own little fun together. I rented your favorite, Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

You cheer happily, and Eddie smiles. He’d do anything to make you smile like that. It’s just so damn adorable to him whenever you’re this happy. He knew you had wanted to make plans to go out tonight, but you didn’t because you wanted to see him. And that alone was enough to really see how much he means to you.

“So, here’s what I’m thinkin’,” Eddie ashes out the joint. You feel so tingly like this. Your body feels warmer while pressed up against him. “I’ll put on the movie for my princess, and I’ll fuck you while we watch it.”

You can’t help the gasp that escapes you. You both giggle, and which slowly dies off as Eddie begins kissing you. It’s not long before you two are making out sloppily. The cold metal of his rings feel so fucking good pressed to your cheek. You long to feel it elsewhere on your body.

“I think that’s the best way we could spend tonight. Plus, I even brought some candy.” You answer. You point to the bag sitting on the bed. It’s a little childish, but you know you’ll be hit with the munchies sooner than later.

Eddie sets you down on the ground, and he grabs one of the blankets on his bed. You two head out into the living room, knowing that Uncle Wayne won’t be home for hours. Not until morning of course. Eddie sets up the movie in the VCR and you’re grabbing some water from the fridge. The bag of candy is also on the coffee table now.

With the blanket set up on the couch along with some comfortable throw pillows, Eddie thinks his work is done. Until he realizes he’ll need to get you naked. Articles of clothing get discarded with every chaste kiss until you’re naked and Eddie is just sucking on your tongue.

“Get on the couch, baby. ‘Wanna show you how badly I’ve been wanting you.” He begins taking off his clothes.

You watch as he takes off his shirt, revealing his gorgeous chest with the many tattoos. You’ve always loved that so much about him. His tattoos look so good on him. They suit who he is. Then, his hands trail down to his belt, and while he’s looking dead in your eyes, he begins to unbuckle it.

“Baby, I want you to touch yourself while you watch me strip.” He’s surprised at his own naughty words, but you only nod your head.

“Okay, Eddie.”

Your hand soothes down your own body as you settle on the couch. Your thighs open wide, and your hand slips between them to stroke your wet folds. You’re surprised to feel just how wet you are, but you suspect the weed had a big role to play in that. Along with your boyfriend undressing right in front of you.

“Fuck—” Eddie sputters as he watches you rub your clit. Your lips are parted ever so slightly, letting out little pants of his name. “If only you knew how fuckin’ sexy you are right now.”

His hands make quick work of unbuckling his belt. Then he looped his fingers into the belt hoops and watched you. Your soaking wet pussy is just dripping all over the couch. How is he going to mask the scent? Part of him doesn’t care, but he thinks about a few ways he can make it so you two weren’t fucking so filthy in the living room.

“Shit! Are you really that wet already? We didn’t even do anything,”

You pant, “I know. Just want you so fucking bad, Eddie. You weren’t the only one thinking about this.”

He smirks as he begins to unbutton his jeans. Already his cock is rock hard and straining against the tight denim of his jeans. You really are a wet dream come true to him. You are everything he wants and more. He can’t believe his lucky stars sometimes when you tell him you love him.

Eddie comes closer and bends down to kiss you sloppily. His hand replaces yours, and he pumps two of his fingers into you. The invasive stretch makes you cry out. Eddie moans when he feels how fucking warm you are.

“Fuck baby, I’d blow my load right away if I fucked you right now. Your little cunt is so good,” He blushes at his confession, but you don’t seem to care one bit.

“It’s okay baby, we’ve got all night.” You press a kiss to his lips once again.

“I fuckin’ love halloween…”