#Curt Hawkins
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rawsmackdownnxtdivas · 2 years ago
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Trinity & Brian Myers 💋
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princessxpunk · 7 months ago
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lonelyvampx · 10 months ago
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Curt Hawkins as a referee | 2019
I think I was the only one who found him attractive back then
bad quality i k
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wrestlingmgc · 1 year ago
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WWE Raw Tag Team Champions Curt Hawkins and Zack Ryder
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mostbelovednjpwtournament · 11 months ago
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Most Beloved WWE Wrestler Tournament
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codchrist · 4 months ago
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You all what's the hype with The System? They are just Temu version of the Undisputed Era.
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littletroubledgrrrl · 9 months ago
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imvgeswrestling · 1 year ago
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connecting tags
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gaypirate · 1 year ago
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brian meyers collects figures of wrestlers he's trained... that's so cute help
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lqveharrington · 9 days ago
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But Daddy I Love Him with older!Eddie MunsonđŸ«ŁđŸ«Ł
Daddy I Love Him | E.M.
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summary: your parents always hated eddie munson, in return causes an argument between you and them.
pairing: older!eddie munson x harrington!reader
includes: mentions of devil worship, bantering, arguments, screaming, bad parents, steve being a good brother, crying, angst, fluff
a/n: i've never wrote a full fic for eddie, so this is a first :) (rules for celebration here!)
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Your family — mainly your father — was never fond of Eddie Munson. In fact, they all believed he was the devil's spawn. You tried to reason with them and show how sweet he truly was, but they only brought up the cold hard truth. How he was held back twice, played a Satanic Game with high schoolers, and smoked weed. He was someone they didn't want you hanging around. They wanted you to stay as far away from his as possible.
Unfortunately, it was a little too late to enforce that rule.
You were in your senior year of high school when you began to hang out with Eddie. You didn't hang out with him to smoke or to slack off on your studies. No, you hung out with him because you could truly be yourself around him. You didn't have to be the perfect cheerleader your parents wanted you to be — you could just exist.
Everyday you were able to hang out with him, you became more confident in who you were. You wanted to leave behind the simple girl you were raised to be. You didn't care if Sarah or Hannah labeled you a mess or if your parents grounded you until you left for college, you just wanted to be with the one who truly understood you.
"I'll get it!" You yell from your room and quickly rush down the stairs, finishing the braid you were adorning yourself with.
The fall weather in Hawkins was always the best. It wasn't too cold or too warm, it was perfect. So when Eddie told you he would take you to town today, you were ecstatic.
Just as you made it to the base of the stairs — Mary Janes scuffing the wooden flooring — Steve cut in front of you and yanked the door open, smile falling when he saw who was standing on the front porch. Unlike your parents, Steve was less inclined to scold you for running off with Eddie. He probably scowled at Eddie once and told him to stay away from you, but after your many protests, he left you both alone.
"Munson." Steve gave him a curt nod and stepped away from the door, letting you pass. He was wary of you running off with Eddie, you were his little sister. But you looked so happy being around him.
Shaking his head, Steve grabbed your forearm and lowered his voice, eyes flitting up to Eddie before back down to you. "Be careful."
You roll your eyes and push him away, adjusting the dress you wore. "I'll be fine, Steve. Besides, our parents are supposed to be gone the entire weekend."
Steve huffed and reluctantly let you go, watching you get into the white van and pull away toward god knows where. Steve only hoped you wouldn't burn down the life you worked so hard to get to.
As Eddie hummed to the music playing on the radio, you laced a hand with the one he had resting on your thigh. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, grinning when you were already staring at him. He was your chaos and your wild joy, but he was all yours and you wouldn't change it for a thing.
"Where are we going today?" You ask softly as he lifted his hand and kissed the back of yours, thumbing the space there.
He continued to kiss the back of your hand as he spoke, "Thought I'd take you downtown. They recently opened a new music shop down there and I heard they have some of your favorite artists."
You raised your brows in surprise and tilt your head, a grin slowly revealing itself to him. "You know me too well." You sigh and squeeze his hand. "Freaks me out just a little."
Eddie chuckled and squeezed your hand back. Of course he knew you well. He had a journal at home that noted all your favorite things. From your favorite flowers to your favorite type of baked good — he had it all written and memorized.
When you got downtown, he bowed and stuck a hand out to help you out of the car. You laughed and gave him a curtsey once he got you down, linking your arms together. On the way over to the store, you passed many people your father knew. Your face twisted in annoyance when a particular woman who used to babysit you and Steve backed away from the both of you and made a cross with her hands.
Eddie tilted his head to you and pressed a kiss to your hair, murmuring quietly. "You okay?"
"Yeah." You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear angrily, glaring at the sidewalk in front of you. "Just annoyed at the people in this town." You kick a pebble and watch it tumble down the road. "All they do is stare and gossip when they see us. It's not like you'll use me for a Satanic sacrifice."
"Who knows? I might just, Harrington." Eddie chided and pursed his lips when you sent him a bored look. He sighed and put his arm around your shoulder. "On another note, you know they're just jealous you're not conforming to the norm." He squeezed your shoulder and flicked your braid over your shoulder. "All your friends aren't really your friends with all the fake smiles they keep throwing you."
"I don't give a damn about them." You rest your head on him and sigh, playing with the buttons adorning his denim vest. You huffed again and rub a hand over your face. "The main issue is telling my parents who I'm really going out with."
Eddie hummed and looked down at you, "When are you telling them?"
You scoff out a short laugh, shaking your head. "If I'm lucky — and Steve doesn't snitch — hopefully not until I'm off to college."
He nodded at you and squeezed your shoulder, leading you toward the music store only a few steps away. "Smart girl."
"Thank you." You grin up at him and kissed his cheek when he opened the door for you.
The second you stepped into the store, you were starstruck. The entire place felt like you stepped onto the set of a music video. There were sections purely for The Smiths and The Cure. There sections for Metallica and Black Sabbath — which Eddie ran straight over to. You shook your head and went to the vinyl and records.
You were so mesmerized by things you'd never seen before in Hawkins that you didn't realize Eddie was by your side, simply admiring you. From the way you kept tucking your hair behind your ear to the way your tongue would just so slightly poke out when you were overlooking the description of the record. His breath was taken away at the sight.
"If I had a camera, I would just snap a picture right here." He spoke all of a sudden, causing you to jerk back in surprise and clutch a hand over your chest. "Absolutely stunning, Harrington."
You shake your head and place the vinyl down, creasing your brows when you met his eyes. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"No." He sent you a cheeky grin and blew a kiss, making you smile. He grabbed the vinyl you were looking at and tucked it underneath his arm, still staring at you. "But you really do look beautiful. Your dress not only compliments your features but your personality."
"How did you ever fail English with all your smooth talk?" You lace your hand with his free hand, slipping one of his many rings on your own.
Eddie opened his mouth before shutting it, shrugging and playing along with you. "Now that is a complete mystery."
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"Did you grab everything?" Eddie popped the door open for you again and helped you out, eyeing your side of his van to make sure you had everything you brought with you.
"Yep." You pat his arm and shake the paper bag full of records and small posters. Although he didn't have much, he still proceeded to buy almost everything you wanted despite your many protests. "Thank you for buying them for me... Are you sure Wayne —?"
"What the hell are you doing with him?" Your father burst through you front door, his eyes wide in anger and fists clenched by his sides. Behind him, Steve and your mother followed, the latter shocked at how close you were to the devil's spawn.
"Daddy?" You took a step back and bumped into Eddie, hands shaking from confusion and fear. You directed your eye sight to Steve, who looked troubled. "I thought--"
"Sorry, I tried. I'm so sorry." Steve rubbed his face and winced when he heard his mother's shrill voice from his right.
"You knew?" She grasped Steve's shoulder and looked at him in bewilderment. She looked between you and your brother, both of you recoiling at how badly the both of you messed up today.
It had been a while since the both of you were heavily scolded by your parents, but you knew you wouldn't hear the end of this mess. You frowned when your father pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering words you would be grounded for even thinking about.
"Wha — Uhm..." Steve stuttered and sent you an apologetic look, running his fingers through his hair. "I have to make a call to work."
"Daddy —" You try to speak again only to be interrupted by your father barking orders at you.
"Get inside the house." He pointed toward the door and glared at the boy behind you. When you made no effort to move, he marched up to you and grabbed your forearm, voice strict and unyielding. "Now."
You huffed and pulled your arm away, giving Eddie one last look before entering your own personal hell. You entered the dining room and sat as far away from your parents, crossing your arms and looking down at the wooden table.
"What the hell were you doing out with Eddie Munson? We told you to stay away from him!" Your father slammed his hands down on the table, cause the glass vase full of beautiful flowers to topple over.
You looked up at him in surprise and crease your eyebrows, "Daddy, he's not a bad person —"
"Like to hell he's not! He's a bad influence! You're supposed to be at home and studying for your midterms." He shouted back before sitting down in the chair opposite of you, face red in disappointment. He knew you were dating someone, but he didn't know you were dating a super, super senior.
"Those aren't for another month!" You hold back from shouting all together, quite aware that your temper was about to blow.
"Don't talk back to your father like that." Your mother gave you a pointed look, picking at her perfectly manicured nails. She rubbed her temple and sighed, "We just want to understand why?"
"But you wouldn't care." You huff and lean back into the chair, tears of frustration filling your eyes. While Steve wasn't the perfect son and didn't get accepted into any colleges, he was able to carry good grades and competed in basketball and swim. They wanted you to be even better than him — get accepted into an ivy league and leave behind Hawkins, Indiana. "All you care about is me getting into college and getting filthy rich like you guys."
Your mother shook her head and moved to grab your hand. "That's not a bad thing, sweetheart—"
"You don't listen to what I want to do, mom." You yank your hand away from her touch, eyes practically burning holes into the wall. You felt like you were going to burst into flames if they said anything else degrading toward Eddie. "All you want to talk about with me is proper etiquette and daddy just goes on about how I need to be the best or I'll end up like Eddie."
"It seems like you aren't far from that anyway." Your father muttered and earned another glare from you. He took your mother's hand and squeezed it as he revealed the following information. "Apparently this isn't the first time you've gone out with the Munson boy."
"What?" She whispered and looked at you with wide eyes, biting the her bottom lip in nervousness.
Your father nodded and scowled at you when he found how unphased you were. "She's been going out with him since the end of summer."
"Oh my god." Your mother fell back and held her forehead in a dramatic nature. She fanned herself and shook her head, "You need to stop seeing that boy."
"Wait, what? I haven't done anything bad." You protest and look between the both of them. "My grades are perfect and —"
"Who knows where you'll end up if you keep hanging around with him." He slammed his hands down on the table again, making you flinch. He sighed and pinched the bridge of nose once again. "Why do you even bother spending time with a hopeless —"
That's when you snapped. The chair scrapped against the floor as you rapidly stood, hands placed on the table to balance yourself. Your voice echoed around the room, uncaring if the neighbors could hear the commotion. You needed them to understand you weren't ever going to leave him, no matter what they tried to force upon you.
"Daddy, I love him!" You all but screamed at him, chest heaving from all the emotion you poured out. Their eyes widened at your outburst. That was the first time you ever yelled back. "I love him because he sees me for who I truly am." You shake your head and glare at them, head pounding from how much energy you spent on them. "Something you and mom fail to do to both your children."
You began to walk away from them, your steps never faltering as you ascended the staircase. But before you could take another step up, you father called out to you, making you scoff.
"Where are you going? We're not done with this conversation, young lady." He stood by the bottom of the stairs, face red from fury. Your mother was covering her mouth, still in shock from what you said.
"But I am." Your voice comes out sharper than intended. "I love him and I won't go back on it."
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©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms
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urhoneycombwitch · 4 months ago
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hold me like water
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Eddie Munson x shy!Reader in the aftermath, you and Eddie learn how to live again.
foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD
 lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft
 not done w them yet!!
cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini
wc: 3k
___
For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.
More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie. 
While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall. 
Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud. 
After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously. 
Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head). 
The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.
It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more. 
The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.
Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”
“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”
Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks. 
“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”
You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.
Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.
“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.
The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).
Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.
Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.
By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries. 
They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.” 
“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips. 
The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers. 
Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf. 
Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore. 
Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home. 
Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.
You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie’s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.
Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of. 
When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends. 
Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry. 
The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.
Sex has been
 different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.    
The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds. 
You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.
Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.
And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh. 
You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release. 
“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”
As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to. 
There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap. 
He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good. 
If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness. 
Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths. 
Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you. 
A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.
If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.
Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along. 
Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.
He’s dumbstruck with it. 
That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.
It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.
He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing. 
You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.
“Come swim with me.”
In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge. 
Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze  and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity. 
Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through. 
So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.
“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”
“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.
“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”
The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time. 
“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.
Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.
Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops. 
The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”
“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”
Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye. 
“I love you.”
“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest. 
Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is. 
You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.
___
for more shy!Reader content: masterlist
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princessxpunk · 7 months ago
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corroded-hellfire · 5 months ago
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Prompt Day 31: Your Song
Word Count: 999
Rating: G
Pairing: Eddie x Reader
CW: None
Summary: Part of my As You Wish universe! Ryan performs a very special song with some very special guests in the middle school talent show.
@corrodedcoffinfest
[As You Wish masterlist]
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The murmur of the audience greets you and your husband as he yanks open the door to the middle school auditorium. You step in first, Eddie right behind you as you walk down the aisle, closer to the stage. 
“Oh, there’s Steve,” Eddie points out, gesturing to where the man is seated with his wife. You give them a small wave and Steve returns the gesture with his camcorder in his hand. “He said he’ll make a copy of the tape for us,” Eddie adds. 
“What’s Natalie doing?” you ask as you scan the rows of seats for two free ones.
“Uh, dancing, I think.”
There’s a pair of seats available in the middle of the eighth row and you and Eddie gladly take them. As your husband shucks out of his leather jacket and gets comfortable in his seat, he notices your fingers twisting together in your lap. He reaches over and softly rests one of his larger hands over both of yours. 
“Everything is fine. Wayne can handle both of them,” Eddie reminds you in a calm voice.
“I-I know,” you say, voice catching because of your damn fluctuating hormones. 
Tonight is the first night you and Eddie have been out together since Eliza was born. She’s three months old now and, like Eddie said, there’s not a doubt in your mind that Wayne can handle both her and Luke. But knowing this is the first time Eliza is without either parent is hard. 
Taking a deep breath, you nod your head and try to sink comfortably into your seat. 
“Were you ever able to get out of Ryan what his act is tonight?” you ask, if for no other reason than to try and keep your mind occupied. 
“Nope,” Eddie says. “Just said that we’ll see, and that Steve was driving him here early so he could practice.”
There isn’t a chance for you to respond because the lights in the auditorium dim and a woman dressed in a brown pantsuit walks on stage. 
“Hello! And welcome to Hawkins Middle School’s 2004 Winter Showcase Talent Show!” the woman says. “I’m Principal Abernathy and we are delighted to have all of you here with us tonight to see what these talented students have prepared.”
After watching students juggle, jump rope, do karate, and perform bird calls, a familiar name is called.
“Please welcome Natalie Harrington, Eve Sawyer, Catherine Click, and Maria Armas.”
An enthusiastic “Woo!” comes from the other side of the auditorium and you chuckle under your breath at Steve’s excitement. 
The lights come up and there’s Natalie on stage, along with three friends. 
Hey now
Hey now
The girls start slowly, striking different poses as the opening words repeat. 
Have you ever seen such a beautiful night 
I could almost kiss the stars for shining so bright
The girls are surprisingly good. You can’t take your eyes off of Natalie. 
The audience applauds as the routine ends and you glance over at your husband to see the same proud gleam in his eye that you know you must also have.
Three more acts go by before the moment you and Eddie have been waiting for arrives. 
“Up next is Ryan Munson,” Principal Abernathy announces. “With a little help from some special guests.”
You and Eddie turn to one another, confused. The maroon curtain moving onstage catches your eye and you both look back to where Ryan has stepped out. 
Nerves are written plain as day across your son’s face. 
Eddie notices a particular detail before you do, and his snicker has you looking over at him quickly.
“What?” you whisper.
“He’s wearing one of my old coveralls from the garage,” Eddie says, nodding to the twelve-year-old.
And sure enough, a navy jumpsuit that’s obviously been tailored to fit the smaller boy is Ryan’s costume of choice for the show. 
From behind his back, Ryan brings out a microphone and shakily holds it up to his mouth. 
“One, two
” he says softly. 
On his count, the curtains part and a very familiar melody begins to fill the auditorium. Both you and your husband have to do a double take when the curtain is finally open and the three members of Corroded Coffin are up on stage, backing Ryan up. 
Gareth is upstage with his drum set, and Jeff and Frank are both strumming their respective instruments. Ryan looks over his shoulder and you notice Gareth give him a wink. That’s just the courage Ryan needed, evidently, to begin singing.
Uptown girl
She's been living in her uptown world
I bet she's never had a backstreet guy
I bet her mama never told her why.
Your postpartum hormones instantly flood your eyes with tears. A hand comes up to cover your mouth as the influx of tears begin cascading down your face. Eddie’s strong, warm hand winds its way into your free one and you hold on to it like a lifeline. 
Ryan knows this is your and Eddie’s song. He knows how much it means to you. And he chose to perform it in the talent show. Somehow, he even managed to keep it a surprise until now! The Corroded Coffin guys are the sprinkles on this already sentimental sundae. 
Emotions overwhelm you, and Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulders as the song finishes up. 
My uptown girl
Your hands hurt from the enthusiasm you put behind applauding. 
Your oldest son takes a bow as the crowd cheers for him. He’s beaming—a triumphant look on his face as if he can’t believe he really just did that. 
Microphone in hand, blue coveralls, and an adorable, dimpled grin. It’s like you’re looking at a miniature Eddie up on that stage. Pride beams out of your every pore and one glance at your husband, and you know it’s the same for him. Eddie actually wipes at his eyes before turning his head to face you. He grins and licks his lips before speaking.
“That’s our boy.”
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wheatnoodle · 2 years ago
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i think steve should save the lives of tommy and carol next season. maybe they couldn’t get out of town cuz they really weren’t great in school either, and they’re total “peaked in high school” adults now.
and the apocalypse is goin wild, upside down creatures are in hawkins. tommy and carol have been backed against a building in the center of town by a demodog, tommy tries to put himself between carol and the dog but let’s be real, he’s shitting himself.
cuz what the fuck is this thing and what the fuck is he supposed to do? all he wants is to use carol as a human shield and scream, but he’s gotta be the man.
the demodog lunges. they scream, awaiting the chomp of teeth. it never comes. instead, there’s a swoosh through the air, a disgusting squelching as something comes in contact, and a whimper of something inhuman in pain.
tommy can’t look. his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s shaking like a leaf. carol’s nails release the piercing grip on his arm and she gasps.
“steve?!” and that’s what gets him to look.
because there’s no way.
and yet, there he is.
steve harrington who runs away from fights. steve harrington who can’t throw a punch but sure knows how to take one. king steve who let a girl ruin his reputation and then went missing the same week as eddie ‘the freak’ munson of all people.
steve harrington who is now coated in a layer of hellspawn-creature-demon-dog blood and brains (if they even have brains) and continuing to swing a bat full of nails like he gets paid to do it.
and when it’s dead and over and the street is quiet except for steve’s light panting, tommy speaks up.
“harrington
what the fuck happened to you?” it’s barely a whisper, all breathy and full of confusion, maybe even awe. there’s so much he wants to say, needs to say, to ask. but that’s all his mouth can come up with.
and steve looks between tommy and carol. his eyes are full of something close to remembered betrayal. it hurts somewhere deep to see but it’s better than the look of shell shock that took over when instincts kicked in and told him to protect, to kill where needed when he ran over. steve’s quick to school his expression into a politeness you save for someone you once knew. he scratches at a thick scar banding around his neck. god, what the fuck happened?
“carry fire with you. a lighter and hairspray works pretty well,” steve says and even his voice has changed.
“stevie, tell me you’re okay. and where the hell you ran off to?! please?!”
speaking of munson, steve’s ears perk up at the sound of the walkie on his hip coming to life. he takes it off, brings it to his lips.
“i’m okay. got a little sidetracked but i’m leaving benny’s now,” he says into the walkie. he gives a the pair against the wall a curt nod before turning and walking back to the street.
“jesus h christ, at least take me with you on your side quests, we die together, sweetheart, you know that!”
tommy shares a glance with carol and sighs in relief.
“maybe i should’ve dated him instead,” carol says and looks off after where he left.
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juniperskye · 5 months ago
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Bangin’
Summary: I’m back with more hair stylist reader!!!  Eddie finally graduated from Hawkins High and moved to New York City. There was definitely a culture shock, but he was finding it easier to fit in there than back in Hawkins. The one thing he was having trouble with however, was his hair management. His neighbor in the trailer park, Ms. Sweeny, used to cut his hair for him, but now living in a new city
he needed to find a good salon. The events of season 4 did not happen.
Eddie Munson x Hair Stylist (Fem)Reader (she’s kind of sunshiny emo lol also she’s described to have colored hair, tattoos, and piercings)
Fluff
Word count: 977
REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!
Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, no use of y/n, half assed salon info, let me know if I missed any!
I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.
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Eddie let out a huff of air in attempt to blow his bangs out of his eyes. His hair had been pulled back into a low messy bun, to keep it out of his face while he moved stage equipment for tonight’s show.
He had moved to New York six months ago after finally graduating from Hawkins High. The big move hadn’t come as a surprise to his friends back home, they all knew that Eddie was destined for greatness. The day he left, he made a promise to Garreth, Jeff and Grant, letting them know that the band wasn’t dead, and he’d be waiting for them to join him in the city when they graduated. That same day, Wayne handed Eddie an envelope, letting him know he had been saving it to ensure Eddie could get by until he had a steady job.
Wayne had pulled Eddie into a tight embrace and they both sniffed, ensuring to keep themselves composed. Refusing to shed any tears. They had separated, shared a curt nod and then Eddie got in his van and drove off.
New York had been everything he had dreamed of, the hustle and bustle of the city was far more his speed than that of suburban Hawkins. He had gotten a job at this bar; it was a few blocks away from his apartment and they had needed someone to bartend and help out with the bands that played there. Eddie had jumped at the opportunity, and he had mentioned his band upon his employment.
The owner of the bar had told Eddie to get him a demo tape and that he would decide if they would play there. He’d been overjoyed when the manager expressed interest after hearing the tape, telling Eddie that as soon as his friends got to NYC they’d have a place to play.
But that was still a few months off. Until then, Eddie would have to make himself useful at the bar. Which is how he currently found himself setting up amps on the stage for tonight’s show. The bar was pretty warm, heating had kicked on to combat the chill from outside. Which is exactly why Eddie had pulled his hair into a lazy bun, only now it wasn’t the heat that was getting to him, but his unruly curls that framed his face.
“Hey man, once the stage is set, you’re good to go for the night. I appreciate you coming in on your day off to help.” Carol, the bar manager, informed Eddie.
“Thanks Carol!” Eddie said, blowing his bangs out of his face once more.
“Cutting Edge.” Carol said.
“What?” Eddie questioned.
“Cutting Edge, it’s a salon over on Bleecker. The hairstylist there can fix up those bangs.” Carol informed as she walked to the back office.
“Hey, thanks!” Eddie called after her.
Once the stage was all set up, Eddie grabbed his stuff and made his way over to Bleecker. He walked past an assortment of restaurants, shops, barbers, until he found your salon. Tucked between Joe’s pizza and The Paw Spa was a tiny salon, on the front window painted in clean white letters were the words “Cutting Edge” with a pair of scissors painted below.
As Eddie entered, a small bell rang out from above the door. He looked over to see two hair cutting stations and two shampoo stations, there was a narrow hallway that seemingly led back to additional space. The salon was designed using mostly black and white accents, checkered floors, bright walls, polaroids lined the wall behind the front desk. In the pictures, Eddie took note of the incredible haircuts and colors that the patrons in the images wore.
“I’ll be right with you hon.” Your warm voice called out over the buzzing of the clippers.
“No rush, thank you.” Eddie replied.
He watched as you faded the sides of this guy’s haircut. The top had been longer, curly and blue, but you had brought the sides in with a perfectly blended fade. As you turned the chair Eddie noticed the design you had lined in his hair. He was in awe of how meticulous you had been in your work.
That is when his gaze shifted to you. You took his breath away, with your black and pink hair, your septum piercing and the tattoos that littered your exposed arms.
“Alright Theo, your total today is, $15. Thank you so much for coming in!” You greeted.
“Thank you! The cut is great, and the color has been holding up well. I’ll call you to schedule a root touch up soon.” Theo suggested before making his leave.
“How can I help you?” You greeted Eddie, finally noticing how handsome he is.
“I uh, I just need a trim. My hair is in my eyes all the time and it’s driving me insane.” Eddie explained,
“Absolutely! Come on back and have a seat.” You gestured to your station.
Eddie sat and you asked him a few questions to gauge how short he wanted his hair. You had inquired about the last time he had a trim and what his current haircare routine was. Once you’d started cutting his hair, he’d been able to ask you a few questions. He’d asked about your taste in music, how long you had been in New York, and how you got into hair.
By then you were done with his hair, and he couldn’t help but feel saddened by the fact that it was over. He wanted to keep talking to you, it had been so easy, he didn’t want it to end.
“Are you done for the evening?” Eddie inquired.
“I am, I just have to close up.” You explained.
“Would you want to come see this band at the bar I work at?” Eddie offered.
“I would love to.” You smiled.
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mostbelovednjpwtournament · 1 year ago
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Most Beloved WWE Wrestler Tournament
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