#Eddie: too far I get it. let’s get back to the romantic shit

[morganbritton132]

Eddie goes live the morning he leaves for Vegas, following Steve around and ooh-ing and awe-ing everything he does. Steve makes breakfast and Eddie’s like ‘this is the last time Stevie’s going to make me breakfast for a whole week.’ Steve fixes his hair and Eddie says ‘this is the last time I’m going to see Steve use way too much hairspray for a whole week.’

They’re in the kitchen, eating when Eddie says: When I get back I’m gonna take you on a date, Stevie.

Steve: If I’m here. Who knows, maybe I’ll run off with the pool boy

Eddie: Oh, what? You gonna dig up Billy Hargrove?

Steve: …Dude

Eddie: I heard it as I was saying it. Too dark.

Eddie:

Eddie: We don’t even have a pool.

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[eddieandbird]

How Romantic—

You’re Corroded Coffin’s tour manager and you wake up realizing you drunkenly got married to Eddie the night before.

Part 2 | Part 3

tags/warnings: fluff | 2.7k words | f!reader | rockstar!Eddie | alcohol ment

———

Nothing seemed too out of the ordinary when you opened your eyes this morning. Your head was pounding, but you expected that after Corroded Coffin’s first show in Las Vegas. You went to rub the sleep out from your eyes but you winced in pain as you felt a small object scratch the corner of your eye.

“Ow! What the hell?” You hissed. You sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp.

A diamond ring sat on the third knuckle of your left hand, the sight causing you to flinch like it were a spider crawling up your leg.

“Eddie?” You shoved your sleeping client beside you. “Eddie, I think we did something really stupid last night,”

“What? Of course, we did! We’re rockstars, idiot,” He grumbled, rolling his shoulders to shake off your hand.

He attempted to roll over and fall back asleep, but this wasn’t a situation you could press the snooze button on. In a panic you pulled him up by his long hair, forcing him to sit up beside you.

“Hey!—“

“Eddie, shut up,” You said sternly, interrupting his whining. “Let me see your hands,”

You fumbled around to get a hold of them, light scratches exchanged between the both of you as you slapped each other like bickering children. Somehow you were able to catch his wrist, bringing his left hand closer to the light.

As you feared, he wore a gold band on his ring finger, with white diamonds that glistened, mocking you.

“Holy shit, no, no, no-” You cursed under your breath when you wanted to scream, but the ever-present headache prevented you from raising your voice.

Eddie flinched as you tugged at him, then chuckled when he caught the sight of his own ring.

“Looks like we got a matching set,” He said casually.

His expression didn’t change, leaving you utterly dumbfounded. You could tell he was not understanding the gravity of the situation at all.

“A matching set?— Eddie this isn’t some cute friendship bracelet thing!” You shook your head then forced his hand closer to his face like it could get him to understand.

Eddie wasn’t stupid by any means, but boy did he struggle to get the point sometimes. You knew to cut him some slack considering he was hungover just like you. However, you didn’t think you had to spell this all out for him.

Another moment passed before his eyes opened up fully. “Oh… OH!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, oh,” You sighed, relieved and irritated.

He studied his hand for a moment, tilting it in the light as he observed the jewels embedded into the gold.

“Oh wow, this is-” He mumbled to himself, his voice getting lost in a trail of thoughts.

He then went silent for a moment before suddenly grabbing your hand harshly, and yanking it into the light. “I bet yours is nicer, let me see,” He grumbled, his tone sounding almost jealous. It did nothing but work you up even more. You were unfortunately going to have to spell it out for him.

You flailed out of bed, ripping off the robe that hung on the lampshade, and covered yourself. The bewildered glare you gave Eddie only caused him to look more confused. You sighed and rubbed your aching head.

“I can’t believe I’m even explaining this to you right now,” You mumbled to yourself. You put your hands together and pointed the form at him. “Eddie, I think we got married last night,”

You hoped and prayed he would give you a different look, one that didn’t make you believe he didn’t even know his own name.

“You think? Or you know?” He countered, raising his eyebrows at you. “These rings could mean nothing, we just have to make sure,”

His expression was far more casual than it should’ve been. You didn’t know how much longer you would be able to stay patient, he was making your blood boil. He was treating this as if you were scolding him for showing up late to the gig.

As much as you wanted him to prove your theory wrong, you feared it wasn’t likely. Your eyes scanned the trashed hotel room for any other sign. To your dismay, there was a white dress tossed to the side of the bathroom. Disgust and regret painted your face as you lifted it. It was covered in red wine and smelled even worse.

“I think I found my wedding dress,” You gagged, holding it up to show Eddie.

You groaned as you just as quickly threw it back down on the floor.

Eddie’s smile wavered as he saw the state of your wedding dress. He suddenly looked nauseous as he observed the wine stains and messy wrinkles.

“We must’ve been super wasted last night,” He thought back to the night before, his mind desperately trying to recall any other details. “I can’t remember a damn thing after the first hour or so,” He said, running a hand through his messy hair.

“Yeah, no kidding,”

You examined the dress again from where you stood and bits and pieces of last night suddenly came back to you. The cheap rhinestones on it formed a pattern that haunted you.

The sight took you back to when Eddie and you stumbled downtown, giggling as you tried to keep each other upright. With one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady, he used the other to point out the ridiculously lit chapel you were passing by. A window peered into a showroom with a plethora of wedding dresses.

You let out a low whistle with your finger pointed at the glass. “Jeez what a dress, huh? Have you ever seen anything more gaudy?” You elbowed Eddie in the chest playfully.

You were too amused to see that he hardly gave that stupid dress more than one glance. He was too captivated by the way you looked underneath the twinkling lights.

“I dunno. I bet you’d make it look good,” Eddie slurred back, raising his eyebrows to fight his half-lidded eyes. His sudden suggestive tone took you aback. He was always crass and liked to push buttons, but never had he been this forward with you. You felt a strange flutter in the pit of your stomach that you had every intention of ignoring.

“Alright, buddy, I gotta get you back to the hotel. You’re too far gone if you’re imagining your manager in a wedding dress,” You hiccupped, trying to pry Eddie away from the chapel windows, but he was sturdy like a wall. You yelped as he pulled you by the wrist back into him.

“I think you should go in and try it on,” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.

Shivers went down your spine, traveling down your body and convincing you it was a good idea. The sloshing liquor in your gut and the rasp of his voice was a dangerous combination. It created a switch inside your head that drained you of your professionalism, leaving only traits that would make you the woman of Eddie’s dreams. This included the boldness to slip your hand into his and say “Aw… Fuck it, why not? Let’s see how stupid it looks,”

Eddie hastily led you into the chapel, walking through the doorway and into the showroom full of gowns. The two of you were greeted by a bored employee who couldn’t look less interested in her job, but somehow had the energy to sneer at the both of you. You only took it as a sign that you should try on the stupid dress if only to spite that miserable lady at the front desk.

Just as you were joking about before, you took the gown that sat in the window and brought it with you to the fitting room. It was way too ornate and flashy for your taste, but you had the itch to try it on to humor Eddie’s curiosity. One outfit change later and you came out, propped up against the doorframe with a hand on your hip. Despite your slightly pained expression, you glittered beautifully in the dress.

“Okay I’m pretty sure this thing is a size too small because I can hardly breathe, but here it is. Happy now, Munson?” You gave an ironic smile.

You expected Eddie to laugh along with you, maybe even make a few digs at how awful the get-up was, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at you slack-jawed. You had brought an entire galaxy to his hazy eyes. His pupils dilated with desire as he took a few sudden strides toward you.

“There is no way you’re actually making that dress look good,” He muttered in disbelief, pawing at your hips.

Eddie dragged his fingertips along your jawline, gently pushing your hair behind the shoulders. He took a step back to admire the skin around your neck that he just exposed. Your silhouette was being squeezed into the fabric and hardly left anything to the imagination. There was really no stopping Eddie now. With an uncoordinated tug, your body was pressed to his.

“What are you doing?” You asked him like he was a toddler getting caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. Delirious giggles rang out of you as half-heartedly pushed him.

“Taking my bride to the altar, duh,” Eddie leaned in, his lips tickling the nape of your neck. He spoke in that false innocent tone that you knew was laced with devious intentions. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his feather-like touches.

“You’re gonna marry me, right, princess?” His silky voice was incredibly inviting in the state you were in.

“I um- well m-” You stuttered. You could hardly stand straight, let alone answer his question properly. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought. C’mon, sweetheart, you’re mine now,” He triumphantly laughed.

The receptionist’s eyes widened in complete shock as Eddie suddenly picked you up off the floor. He began walking back out the door, carrying you like a damsel in distress. Your giggling, mixed with the employee’s confused protesting was the only noise heard through the room.

Eddie barreled down the aisle of the chapel. He laughed with misplaced enthusiasm as you both stumbled closer and closer toward the pastor waiting at the end of the aisle.

You couldn’t bear to remember anything beyond that. A full-body shiver came over you as you snapped out of the memory of the night before. You couldn’t hear anything for a moment over the pounding of your heart in your ears. Your mind couldn’t wrap around Eddie and you sharing a moment so intimate and unfortunately so permanent.

“Oh, right… that’s what happened,” His voice pulled your attention back to him.

As he laid his eyes upon the dress, it repeated the events to him in his mind. He was tempted to brag about how steady he kept you in his arms even while he wasted, but he bit his tongue, knowing you’d probably snap at him again.

As the realization hit Eddie, he felt overwhelmed with emotion. Part of him couldn’t believe that the both of him had gotten married so recklessly, but another part felt a strange fluttering in his chest.

“Yeah, how romantic,” You groaned, limping to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face.

Eddie followed after you, leaning against the bathroom door frame.

“You um- You’re not thinking of breaking all this off right?” he asked timidly.

As if this morning couldn’t get any more insane, of course, he had to ask you that. You shot a glare in the mirror reflection for a moment before whipping around with your arms folded.

“Munson… What the hell are you saying?” Although the message was harsh, your tone had no bite to it. You sounded much more confused than upset at this moment. You didn’t want to believe that he was genuinely considering remaining married to you.

“Hear me out,” He set his hands out, gesturing you to stop whatever angry rant you wished to go on. “Maybe this doesn’t have to be the worst thing that could happen to us,”

“What do you mean?”

“I doubt that we weren’t spotted in that chapel. If we’re lucky we have until the afternoon before we see headlines about Corroded Coffin’s main guitarist and his manager getting hitched in Vegas,” He scrunched his nose and shook a hand through his tangled hair.

There goes your deer-in-headlights look again. “God, I really am an idiot! How did I not think of that? I-”

Eddie pressed a finger to your lips, promptly shutting you up. “Yeah, yeah, you’re the tortured manager of our band, we get it. But hey, just stay with me,” He dismissed your spiral before it could even happen. He swept you up similar to how he did last night, but this time to sit you down on the bathroom counter.

“What if we just stayed married for a little while?” He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Think about it. All that press Corroded Coffin would get over something like this. We’d be a household name! It’s kind of genius,” With his hands caging you into your spot on the counter, he smiled proudly at you as he explained what he had in mind.

He could see your mind racing behind your eyes, clearly contemplating the logistics of getting media attention out of this. He leaned closer to you, keeping you to the counter. He placed his hands on either side of your thighs.

“I know you hate the attention,” He continued softly, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “But this is a good idea. We have to capitalize on our screw-up... For the band of course.”

A choked exhale escaped you before you set your head in your hands for a moment. Your mind drew up a montage of all the disapproving faces you’d have to explain this to, all the uncomfortable interviews you’d have to speak in, and all the death threats made by Corroded Coffin’s fans to you.

“Do I really have a choice in all this?” You mumbled through the spaces in between your fingers.

Eddie flashed a wry smile. “I guess not,” he teasingly held up his ring finger as if he was flipping you off. “Bottom line, when we walk out of this hotel, we are officially husband and wife. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this to make the rest of the tour miserable. So you can either mope around the bus for the next two months and have more rumors spread in your absence, or you can hold your head up high and make a spectacle of our marriage for the sake of the band,”

Eddie’s grin grew wider as he saw the exhaustion creeping onto your face. He knew exactly how much you hated the attention, but he also knew that you cared just as much about the success of Corroded Coffin. He leaned closer to you, his body now almost completely pressed against yours.

“I don’t like either of those options, just throw me off the balcony and be done with it,” You dramatically huffed and smacked your head on his shoulder. He snorted at your reaction.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” he taunted, his fingers gripping your thighs in a tight but affectionate grip. “Where’s that infamous strength of yours, huh? What happened to the badass manager that keeps us in line?”

You gave him the weakest glare you had yet. He was right about one thing: you cared about Corroded Coffin more than anything else. It was time to step up and do what you had to for them, for Eddie.

“Alright!” You blurted out. “Fine, let’s do this, but as soon as tour is over, we get a quiet divorce and we move on like nothing ever happened,”

“Yeah, totally, for sure,” Eddie nodded his head half-convincingly, then lightly smacked your leg with approval. He was beaming, looking forward to all the fun he was about to have with you. “Alright, get all dolled up for brunch, I’m starving. It’s time for your grand debut, Mrs. Munson,”

“Hey, I never agreed on changing my name!” you whined, pushing Eddie off of you to get down from the counter.

Eddie chuckled as you suddenly stood up from the counter.

“Well get used to it, because I’m going to keep calling you that,” he teased. “You’re officially stuck with me now, Mrs. Munson,”

[alchemistc]

Based on this post by @beefcakekinard because I couldn't flesh it out enough in the tags

read on ao3

could be with you

"Didn't you have a date on Saturday?"

Tommy's eyes dart up. Galway is staring at him, hand on hip, brow raised, and Tommy sighs. "Never said it was a date."

"Yeah, but you had a moony look in your eye. Been a while since I've seen it, but I know your date face."

Tommy does his best to keep things neutral on his face. Clearly that doesn't work, because Galway's expression goes sympathetic immediately.

"Oh, bad date. Damn, Kinard, tough luck."

Tommy's had to get used to the fact that everyone at Harbor always wants in each other's business. It's pretty superficial shit, most of the time, but they always want to know the scoop, anyway.

He feels the flash of disappointment, followed immediately by a lick of defensiveness. Damnit. "Wasn't even a bad date, right up until the end."

Galway looks intrigued, but Tommy's not quite ready to entertain it. He's still stewing, a bit. Annoyed with himself for the way he'd reacted in the moment -- a beat too far because he'd given Evan an easy out and he'd grabbed it and flung it in the opposite direction.

Right, Evan?

God. What a dick thing to say. He'd -- panicked, a little. They both had, in their own ways.

If he'd known, going into it, exactly how new this was to him, maybe he'd have --

Lowered his expectations.

"Wrong place, wrong time," Tommy says, to get Galway off his back about it, and rolls his arms back to tug his flight suit the rest of the way up. And that's the crux of it, really. Tommy's spent too much of his life hiding away, and Evan hadn't even known he had something to hide until -- until what, the moment he realized other people could see them? He hadn't panicked in the moment -- that first moment, Tommy guessed, now that he knew a little more -- when their lips had met. Hadn't panicked in the days between, when the flirting had bordered on ridiculous in their texts back and forth. Hadn't panicked when Tommy picked him up, hand settling at the small of his back to guide him to the passenger side of his truck, or when Tommy complimented his shirt, or on the drive to the restaurant, Tommy nervously tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel while Evan rattled on about beekeeping. They'd both been nervous.

Nerves, he understood. Nerves had settled under his skin the moment he closed the door to Evan's apartment, nerves like he hadn't felt in a good long while because he couldn't remember being so immediately charmed by someone in... a while.

Even through most of the date he'd been able to chalk it up to maybe being in a more public setting than he'd realized. They were both in a field that didn't immediately feel inclusive. Both big, manly looking men, and maybe Evan just hadn't done a lot of that before. Maybe Tommy wasn't his usual type. (Hindsight, as they say.)

He could have rolled with the first date with a dude thing -- awkward as it was, surprising as it was, considering the first time a man had come on to Tommy he'd nearly punched him about it. He'd had to reset some expectations, reevaluate some of his preconceived notions on the fly. That wasn't exactly a deal breaker. He liked Evan. Likes him still, in the light of day with a little time to dig into why exactly it had hurt so much to be sidelined in front of a mutual friend.

And he's still a little embarrassed he'd let it get to him enough to make a snide comment that could have outed him when he was clearly not ready to be out.

But it was one date. A good first date, even, until they'd been a bit blindsided by Eddie Diaz.

Which -- he'd walked himself in circles in his own mind about the Eddie Diaz of it all, anyway, half convinced he was slamming headfirst into the middle of some weird co-parents with benefits scenario. The fishing he'd had to do to even attempt to figure out that situation. He's fairly convinced, at this point, that neither one of them has any hidden latent romantic notions, about the other, but that hadn't really helped the situation, either.

"So no second date in the cards, huh?"

Tommy blinks. Swallows. "Nah," he says, but --

But maybe. If the timing was right.

Christ, Tommy, it was one disappointing date with an admittedly sweet, and kind, and fucking gorgeous guy. A guy with a devastating smile and a wide breadth of useless facts and a great ass and enough heart to fill the Greater Los Angeles area.

The text, later that evening, should surprise him more than it does.

Evan 9:34 PM: Hey, could I give you a call later, if you're not on shift?

Tommy stares at it for ten whole minutes, tucked behind a shelf laden with cleaning supplies while the rest of the crew is huddled around a Kings game in the downtime between calls.

I'm on until 8AM, he shoots back, and then stares at it until he gets a read receipt. Up above Evan's latest text there's a full thread he hadn't had the heart to delete, quite yet, and he can still see the image of the chicken Evan had taken his not great hand at drawing blades on the talons of. Call around half past?

It's a bad idea. He's had worse ones, but.

He gets another read receipt before he can flip away from the conversation, and three little dots that appear and disappear four times before another message pops through.

Evan 9:47 PM: Talk to you in the morning!

And then.

Evan 9:47 PM: Have a good shift. Be safe!

Shit.

--------

He's played out the phone call all the way through about twelve times in his head. Evan's a good guy. Sweet, kind, a little sassy but never mean. He's expecting a thank you, maybe an apology, although he doesn't need it.

He pulls the truck into the closest parking lot when Evan's name flashes across the screen.

"Hey," he says, once he's parked and prepared for the softest let down he's had in years.

"Uh - hey, hi. Hi, Tommy."

Evan Buckley says his name like a benediction. He's never really noticed the way it sounds, until Evan Buckley started saying it. God, this one might sting.

"Hi," he says. They drift into silence.

"Hi. Sorry. Hey. I called you. So. I should. I should say what I wanted to say."

"I'm all ears," Tommy tells him, charmed despite himself, wishing he could see his face.

"I --." The pause is...long. Awkward. Tommy wonders if he's running over a script on his head. "Actually, could we -- do you have any time this morning? Could we talk in person? If -- I mean obviously if you have plans, or, hell, you just got a shift, I'm sure you're tired, we don't have to --."

"I'm about thirty minutes out from home. Let me take a shower, run a few errands. We could meet around noon?" Bad idea. Still. But there's a small, tiny piece of him that thinks Evan might work through his shit at a much quicker speed than Tommy could ever manage. At the very least, he owes it to a younger, angrier Tommy to play this out.

"That -- yeah, that'd be..." He pauses. "You're sure?"

"I'll send you a pin. There's a coffee shop near where I'll be."

"Okay. Okay yeah. I -- just let me know if you're running late, or anything. I'll. I'll be there."

"I'll see you in a few hours, Evan."

"Okay. Yeah. See you in a bit."

Neither one of them hangs up.

Evan's nervous laugh fills the cab, and Tommy presses his head back until he can feel the headrest pressing into his skull. "Bye, Tommy. See you soon."

----

He'd slept where he could, the night before, actually feels pretty well rested, for working an overnight, for spending every free moment wondering what the hell Evan wanted to call him about, for trying real damn hard to temper his fucking expectations. His two wolves are disappointed expectations and romantic notions, constantly warring with each other.

Evan shoots him a text as he's leaving the barber two doors down.

Evan 11:49 AM: Headed out to the patio, see you in a few

Tommy is absolutely not drawing conclusions about him showing up early. None.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and ducks into the walkway that leads to the courtyard around back.

He'd chosen this place for a few specific reasons -- proximity to his haircut appointment, proximity to Evan's apartment, his knowledge of the lobby of the coffee shop and all it's private little nooks tucked away in corners. Something to ease Evan's mind, a little.

Yet when Tommy finally spots him, he's in the middle of a crowded courtyard, already seated, wearing a light, airy looking polo that stretches tight across his shoulders, and his smile when he spots Tommy burns brighter than the sun on Tommy's newly-shorn scalp.

Tempered expectations.

He doesn't sit, right away. Maybe this had just been an easier way to find each other in the midday crowds. Maybe this conversation won't be long enough to merit sitting.

Evan gestures at the coffee he'd apparently gambled on, and Tommy finds himself sitting before he can talk himself out of it. His posture is a mess, he knows it, but he can't quite help curling in on himself, feeling small as Evan studies him, as the white noise of the people all around them fills his ears. The coffee is terrible. The company is dangerously enchanting.

Evan Buckley goes from zero to sixty in under a second.

-----

Tommy is good at keeping a lid on the part of himself that longs to be romanced, to do some romancing of his own. He's had enough flops to be hyper aware that the reality of dating never follows a soppy script.

Evan says I think that something could be with you and reality takes a rain check, for a minute. Tommy shifts. Tommy flounders. Tommy had prepared for an easy let down, a promise to stay friends and a few awkward encounters in the Diaz living room. Tommy fights the smile, takes a deep breath, admits what he's been trying to deny since he cut things short.

"You already know that I'm interested." It's an easy out -- he's good at catching the ball and tossing it back immediately. It's a risk, but he thinks he and Evan are on the same page about what Tommy's willing to sacrifice, and what he isn't. Evan had made it a point to be out here in the open for this conversation, after all.

Evan takes the shot from half-court.

It catches the rim. Wobbles. Spins.

"Evan," he says, and he means it to sound stern, a hint of incredulity. He's not entirely sure it hits the mark.

And then he's doing that thing he does -- bright-eyed optimism, body language open, a smile curling at his mouth, pressing, pushing, digging into the rocky crevices of Tommy's skepticism and wiping them smooth. It's an insane idea. He's been to...two, three weddings with a date of his own? All long term relationships, because there's something about witnessing eternal vows next to someone that means something to you, something that makes it all a little more real.

But Evan is persistent. And dropping very loaded clues, hinting that he's talked to his sister about him -- them. Tommy doesn't know much, but his relationship with his sister had come up in conversation, he knows they're close. Hinting that he's well aware an invite means he's pulling the lid off 'picking up hot chicks' secrecy.

He doesn't even get all the way through "Are you absolutely sure about this?" before Evan is grinning, leaning in to meet Tommy's gaze, an emphatic confirmation escaping him, and suddenly it's intimate.

Tommy can't think of a reason to say no.

[artandshid]

*found this in my drafts and i was prob heartbroken when I read this lmaooo*

Eddie Munson didn’t do girlfriends, he didn’t do love outside of the platonic kind for that matter. Eddie loved girls, he loved sex, but the romantic bullshit just wasn’t for him. He didn’t have the money to pay for expensive dates, he didn’t have the maturity for a real relationship, and he didn’t even have anyone to bring a significant other home to. He had no family, I mean sure he had Uncle Wayne and Wayne was a great guy. But Wayne worked a lot and he was often grumpy when he came back from work, not the friendliest guy to meet. As a matter of fact, the only person in Eddie’s life who met Wayne was Y/n.

Y/n was someone very dear to Eddie. Y/n was Eddie’s fuck buddy, the girl that maybe he loved a little more than platonically, but most of all, Y/n was Eddie’s best friend.

The whole fuck buddy thing started after a horrible hookup on her end, and Eddie was certain that he could be better than whatever scumbag she went out with that night, and he was. He would never admit how proud he was of that, though.

Eddie is slightly aware of his feelings for his best friend, he’d never tell her, but he would be lying if he said her presence doesn’t make him feel better. That the sight of her doesn’t just have him turned on, but brings him a sense of inner peace. He knows what these feelings are, but he also knows that they’re wrong. People like Eddie don’t deserve to feel those feelings, especially towards someone as great as Y/n. So he’s just letting them be for now, because he knows that she’ll find better eventually and he’s going to be okay with that, because having her as his best friend is good enough.

“Oh fuck Eddie.” Y/n moans from underneath him, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

Eddie rocks above her, panting and moaning the entire time. “Fuck babe I’m close, so fucking close. Oh shit, here I come babe.” He says as his eyes squeeze shut and he fucks his orgasm into her, her climax quickly approaching.

He pulls out and rolls next to her, both of them panting. They make eye contact and smile, both of their stomachs doing flips, neither one knowing about the other.

“We did good, huh?” Eddie says jokingly and pulls a cigarette out, offering her one, which she happily takes.

Y/n laughs out loud and lightly hits his chest, “Shut up.”

“No I’m serious, that was one of our best rounds yet.”

She laughs again, but slowly goes into a trance.

Eddie lightly shakes her shoulder, “What’s wrong y/n/n?”

You look him in the eyes and Eddie gulps, “Eds, I think I’m in love with you.”

Eddie freezes, even though he’s in love with you, he also knows that your feelings aren’t real. Maybe you guys have slept with each other too many times that you’re just getting confused. But you can’t love him and you can’t be in love with him. You’re far too good for him.

“Eddie please say something. Please tell me you feel the same way.”She now has tears in her eyes knowing that she’s going to lose him.

“Y/n, baby, you know I can’t. I’m sorry, but you’ve known me for how long, I’m not a relationship guy.” He says and he shrugs you off.

You look at him incredulously. To not reciprocate feelings is one thing, but to completely blow you off by saying ‘i’m not a relationship” guy after all of your history together, is what makes you mad. And the tone he said it in, too, like an arrogant prick.

“So that’s that? You can’t say anything else.” She says with tears now streaming down her face.

Eddie is feeling a lot of things right now and that’s never good. When he feels too much he gets overwhelmed and deals with it by being angry. He’s never been angry at her before, though, but seeing her cry, mixed with her “confession” and he’s still dealing with his feelings for her, Eddie is feeling more than overwhelmed.

“What else do you want me to fucking say? You’ve known me for how many fucking years? Never once have I done relationships, and you’re no fucking different. What did you think just because we have a bit of history it would make any difference.” He yells at her, taking another puff of his cigarette trying to calm his nerves.

“‘A bit of history’ is that what your chalking up our years of friendship to now? You never act like this with me, and I try to be honest with you and you just lash out on me? I’m your best friend, not some asshole at school, try treating me with a little respect.” She says, finally putting her clothes back on while he stay naked under the covers. Even with the clothes covering her, she’s never felt more exposed in her life.

“Respect?!” Eddie laughs out loud. “I just had you a moaning mess underneath me and you’re demanding respect?” He instantly regrets saying this at the pain on her face, but again, he won’t let her see that.

“You are such a selfish dick, I’m leaving.” She says and starts walking out with tears and mascara streaking her face.

“I may be selfish, but at least I didn’t sleep with my best friend and catch feelings, ruining years of friendship!” He yelled back even though she’s already almost out the front door. Now he’s not only selfish, but a selfish liar.

[steddieas-shegoes]

more than everything else

For @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘proposal’ wc: 999 rated m cw: suggestive language | tags: domestic fluff, sappy and romantic

💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍

“Steve! Freezer’s working again!” Eddie yelled from his spot on the floor behind their previously defunct freezer.

Eddie insisted he could fix it himself, hence the hours he’d spent on the floor with tools that weren’t doing anything and a lip bitten until it bled.

“Told you if you took your shirt off it would work faster,” Steve said from the doorway, hands on his hips as he took in the sight of Eddie being half naked.

Sweat dripping down his chest.

A bruise forming on his side where he’d dropped a wrench on himself earlier.

His newest tattoo peeling because he’d forgotten to put Vaseline on it earlier.

“I always listen to you, sweetheart,” Eddie smirked as he stood up. “You got any plans later?”

“I actually do remember something on the calendar.”

Eddie walked over to him, covered Steve’s hands with his own and rocked him side to side. “Damn.”

“Why? You wanna make plans?” Steve raised a brow.

“I thought I could get a reward for all my hard work today,” Eddie pouted his bottom lip out, eyes widening as he leaned further into Steve’s space. “Maybe in the bedroom?”

“Reward? For fixing the freezer that you broke?”

“I seem to remember someone saying that the freezer was just ‘old’ and that this ‘could’ve happened to anyone.’ Or am I mistaken?” Eddie let go of Steve’s hands but stayed close to him.

“I’m not sure who said that. I do remember someone saying that if you turned it down too far for too long, it would break, though. Maybe you can recall who said that?” Steve leaned in to peck his lips softly, teasing just a little with his fingers along the waistband of Eddie’s pants. “Seems like a smart guy.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. At least the guy who broke it could fix it.”

“That’s right, baby.” Steve backed away. “Now. I’ve got baked chicken spaghetti in the oven for dinner and I made cookies earlier if you-“

“Marry me.”

Steve froze, his eyes widened.

Maybe Eddie could’ve been more eloquent, more romantic.

Shit, maybe he could do that still.

He reached for Steve’s hands, smiling softly at him as his eyes darted between Eddie’s, searching for him to say that it was a joke.

“I’m serious.” Eddie kissed his forehead before continuing. “You think I survived the hell of ‘86 to not end up with Steve Harrington? You think I’ve spent nearly every day of the last six years trying to be the best partner you could ask for, the kind you deserve? You make me wanna be more than everything else.”

“What-“

Eddie shushed him with a kiss. “When I was little, like barely old enough to ride a bike, my mom brought me to a flower shop. She said I had to pick a nice flower for my teacher so she knew I was a sweet kid. I picked a daffodil. She laughed and said ‘you know the love of my life always brought my a daffodil’ and when I asked why dad didn’t bring them to her anymore she said ‘he never did.’ And as I got older I realized what that meant. I never could ask her about it, but I eventually asked Wayne. He said-“ Eddie sniffed, biting his lip trying not to cry. “He said sometimes the love you get isn’t what makes you feel better than everything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to feel more than everything else. And I still didn’t quite get it, ya know? Made no damn sense to me when I was 13. Kinda thought Wayne was high.” Steve laughed, Eddie smiled. “But then I saw you in the cafeteria one day, and I saw the way you held the door open for some of the band kids even though Tommy was teasing you for it. And I saw how much you did for me at my worst, even before you had a reason to, before you knew it would be worth more. I see how you love, and how you keep loving, even when some people may not deserve it. I feel how much you are, how much more you can still be. And how much I wanna be more to be worthy of you. I don’t have much, you know I don’t, but you love me anyway. And you make me wanna be more.”

Steve’s tears were falling rapidly, a sob escaping at the end of Eddie’s words as he fell forward, his tears soaking Eddie’s shirt instantly.

“You’re enough for me,” he finally managed to say against Eddie’s neck. “You’ve always been enough for me. I don’t want more. I just want you.”

“I know, sweet love. I know.” Eddie’s arms tightened around him. “You think you could marry me?”

“Eds. I would marry you every day if we could.” Steve sniffed as he pulled away. “We can’t really do it, though.”

“Maybe not. But we can wear rings, tell everyone. I can call you my husband around the people who love us.”

That was a hell of a thought.

Husbands.

“You’re sure you want that?”

“Of course I am. Who else is gonna fix your freezer when it breaks?”

“Maybe you could try not to break it in the first place.” Steve smacked his shoulder. He kissed him slowly, tongue brushing against his bottom lip but not looking for more. “But I guess it would be nice to have someone around all the time to fix the stuff he breaks.”

“Hey!”

“I love you.”

It was that simple.

“So. My reward?”

“My hand in marriage.” Steve turned away and looked over his shoulder. “And maybe my hand in other places. If you hurry up and shower.”

“I’ll be done in five. Be naked on the kitchen table-“

“Eddie, not-“

“The kitchen table!”

Steve rolled his eyes but threw his shirt to the floor and winked before making his way to the kitchen. “Five minutes!”

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part eight

part nine: see you come running

Eddie was slowing realizing that introducing Robin and Nancy to the Corroded Coffin crew was the perfect way to lose all of his sanity in one go. Eddie had continued chatting with Robin and bouncing ideas off of her but nothing was clicking and Eddie finally broke down and decided the whole crew needed to come together over pizza to write and score some not cheesy but totally grand gesture worthy songs for Steve.

Eddie's label wasn't thrilled with the abrupt u-turn from an angsty heavy break up album to a single song in that vein and then sappy love songs for the rest of the album but thankfully Corroded Coffin had earned enough cachet over the years that Ronnie was able to convince the label that the songs would still have their signature flair just less angsty and more romantic -- more I would bleed for you and less I would watch eagles rip out your intestines and laugh.

As a group, Corroded Coffin was generally ambivalent towards love most of the time. Ronnie was not interested in dating much more content with her plants and foster kittens. Jeff had been dating the same girl since kindergarten basically and while she was lovely and totally worth swooning over, Jeff had gotten his cheese out early on through middle school notes passed through lockers. Frank and Gareth kind of fluctuated between meeting people at shows and trying whatever fad dating site existed for celebrities at the time but hadn't had serious partners in several years.

All that to say, Eddie was fucking banging his head against the wall for the fifth time in so many hours trying to find another rhyme for love that wasn't glove or shove and his bandmates had taken to throwing little pieces of things into his rapidly frizzing messy bun. They needed reinforcements.

By the time pizza and the girls arrived Eddie was laying upside down with his head dangling off the couch singing an over the top version of I Miss You and hoping none of his friends ever told Tom Delonge. Robin and Ronnie promptly cut him off so his hair didn’t land square in the pepperoni.

"Alright let's get the show on the road," Nancy stated after she had ushered the group together onto couches in some semblance of order after the empty pizza boxes had been bussed.

"You can't rush art, Nancy," Eddie snarked which was probably overall a little too daring based on the look Robin sent him.

"But you can actually write something down instead of flipping through Steve's instagram and sigh over his hair," Ronnie responded earning her a high five from Robin.

Nancy had brought over a big flipchart and colored pens and was starting to jot down ideas that were being thrown around the room. So far Eddie had added a doodle of himself looking up at Steve but hadn't really contributed anything else to the board.

"What are you guys known for?" Robin asked.

"Uhm mostly spooky shit and more recently a break up song that low key ruined my life?" Eddie answered.

"What Eddie means to say is that we generally write fantasy based albums that have some sort of an overall theme or story and tend to be a heavily metaphored summation of something one of us was dealing with," Ronnie clarified after thumping Eddie on the back of his head.

"Examples?" Nancy asked.

"So our debut album was basically growing up in our small town and not fitting in but told through the metaphor of the nine circles of hell," Jeff piped in.

"Definitely aren't beating the satanist allegations back home, fam," Gareth chimed in from the kitchen.

"Okay so why don't we do Steve and Eddie's story through a metaphor y'all haven't done yet. Greek myth?" Robin suggested.

"Already done that," Ronnie answered.

"Lord of the Rings vibes?" Nancy threw out.

"Second album," Frank answered.

"Constellations?" Robin asked.

"Fourth album," Jeff said.

"Okay well what haven't you done?" Nancy was growing impatient with twenty questions.

"Eddie, I think it might be time to pull out the original Munson Mythology," Gareth said through a mouthful of cold pizza.

"I feel like there's a story there," Robin prodded.

"I mean, kind of. So I think y'all might know some of this but my family is mostly from Appalachia and I moved with my uncle to a bigger city where I met the rest of these guys so he could get a job at the plant instead of in the coal mines. We all became friends because we were part of a ttrpg group in school and I ran a campaign based a lot on the old stories Uncle Wayne used to tell me about the mountains. It became nicknamed the Munson Mythology and we've been thinking about putting it into an album basically since we started but I could never get it to sit right and our label wasn't the most excited about americana and metal," Eddie summarized as succinctly as he could.

"I think we could get them around to it now. Especially with how popular the single got. We could do a whole like americana cryptid vibe and keep it kind of spooky but ultimately romantic," Ronnie added.

"No pressure though, Eddie. I know Steve is already a personal subject matter but talking about your family lore adds a whole 'nother layer. We'd understand if you wanted to go another direction," Jeff said.

"I think I might be ready for it, guys. I mean Steve's the closest I've come to finding home outside of the mountains and it's something different than we've done before. I think Gare might be right. It's probably time," Eddie said.

"Then I guess we are writing a metal appalachian love story, friends," Robin clapped her hands as if to indicate it was time to get to work.

"Alright, Eddie. Time to tell us some stories," Nancy said.

"What do y'all know about skinwalkers?" Eddie asked as he settled in to tell some folktales.

***

through a random twist of events (aka someone actually wanting to find my fic which holy crap is so flattering omg) i've come back to this work. thanks anon for kicking me back into this au which is so fun to write. the boys will be back together soon just wanted to add some buddy hijinks as i think Ronnie and Robin would be cautious besties and i wanted to see that happen.

also it's been over two months since i worked on this so if you see plot holes no you didn't. one of these days i will put this up on ao3 and go through and make sure i'm consistent with everyone's backstory but for now just go with it. :p

it is a truth universally acknowledged for some reason i absolutely suck at tagging. i think i have been consistent but all these parts should be tagged "was it over then ficlet" if you have trouble finding them. i also might have to work on a master list situation as i will probably not get better at tagging anytime soon. but here we go:

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast

@mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging

@lunaraquaenby @stripey82 @lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly @sherrylyn0628 @steddieinthesun @wonderland-girl143-blog @counting-dollars-counting-stars @bookworm0690

@knightly-reblogs @rjwinterfell @kcsplace @y4r3luv @thedragonsaunt

[ladykailitha]

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 3

So apparently love and comments are a surefire way to get me to write more, who knew?

*looks over at parts one and two* yeah so...I may do a proper write up this sometime because holy shit the errors in both were BAD. *realizes fully that this will probably be as bad if not worse*

And it may have a total of four parts. Plus this thing really needs a title. Suggest something in the comments. Because I don’t even know what it is at this point.

*

Eddie went back to Steve’s and spent the night. He told Steve about the meeting they had while he was asleep.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve murmured.

“The hell I didn’t,” Eddie growled. “Besides, I don’t think that Jonathan or Will was going to let it stand either. El, though? That was awesome.”

“So Joyce is going to make them apologize?” Steve asked, unsure.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “And I’m going to talk to Uncle Wayne. I just don’t get why he did that. He likes you. Sometimes I think he likes you more than he likes me.”

“He was just trying to be protective of his boy,” Steve said softly.

Eddie kissed the top of Steve’s head. “I don’t care. I’m an adult. It just makes me mad about Hopper and Dustin. And Robin. Jesus Christ! What were they thinking?”

Steve sighed. “I don’t think they were.”

Eddie sighed, too. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

*

Eddie strolled into the newly minted government funded house that they were given after the shit show with the earthquake, feeling a little better.

“What did I tell you about calling when you weren’t gonna be home?” Wayne asked. He had been waiting by the window for Eddie to come home.

Eddie shrugged. “Sorry about that, but Steve had a breakdown yesterday and I was too busy consoling my boyfriend.”

Wayne blinked. “Is he okay?”

Eddie turned to with a sneer. “Not really. It was something about ten shovel talks, two of them with an actual fucking shotgun. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Ten?!” Wayne squeaked. “I thought it was just me and Hop.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth. “And that’s another thing. Why did Chief Hopper give Steve the shovel talk instead of me? You know, the metalhead, drug dealing, three-time senior?” 

Wayne blinked. “I don’t know, son. You’re right. That doesn’t make sense. I just never thought it through when he suggested it. Just give Steve a bit of a scare to take care of you.”

“I would think that of the two of us,” Eddie growled, “the one with absent parents, three concussions, and a hopeless romantic would be the one that needs taking care of, not the out and loud metalhead who’s older.”

Wayne’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right, Ed. It’s just that beneath that hard exterior, you’re soft and tender. And I wanted him to know that.”

Eddie gave a high pitched noise of distress. “He knows! That’s why he fell in love with me in the first place. God! Do you not see how messed up this all is?”

Wayne pulled Eddie in for a hug and he went reluctantly. “I do. And I’m sorry your boy got hurt. That wasn’t my intention. Bring him over for dinner and I’ll apologize proper.”

Eddie nodded. “Jonathan said he wanted to throw himself into the pool,” he whispered into his uncle’s shoulder. “I could have lost him.”

Wayne let out a curse. “I’m sorry, Ed. This has gotten so far out of control and it never should have happened. I’ll make it up to Steve. I promise.”

*

Hopper showed up at Steve’s door sometime after Eddie had left to go shower and change.

“Get dressed,” Hopper growled. “We’re going for a ride.”

Steve crossed his arms. “This another shovel talk? Because if it is you can shove it up your ass.” 

Hopper’s shoulders slumped. “No, son. It’s an apology.”

Steve eyed him warily but went to go get dressed. He wrote a note for Eddie and taped it to the front the door. “All right let’s go.”

They drove out to the diner and Steve was told get a milkshake. Steve got a double fudge brownie milkshake, while Hopper got a plain strawberry.

“I just wanted ya to know before I get into the actual apology,” Hopper began. “That ya have a lot of people looking out for ya. Joyce, my El. Even Wayne chewed me out once he found out from Eddie about all the other shovel talks.”

Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“The shotgun thing was all my idea,” Hopper explained. “He wasn’t even gonna do it until I brought it up. It was supposed to be funny. Just a little joke from us to you. I don’t know why everyone else got involved and I am sorry about that.”

“But why me?” Steve cried, his voice cracking on the last word. “I thought--I mean I looked up to you! If I wanted a bully I would have called my real dad.” He was suddenly on his feet.

Hopper looked up at him in shame. “Sit down, Steve. Come on. Please?”

Steve stood there breathing heavily for a moment before he sat back down. Hopper glanced around them and saw that no one was looking.

“You do realize your reputation, don’t you?” Hopper asked after a moment.

“Well, it’s bullshit,” Steve grumbled. “It was all Tommy Hagen spreading rumors to help me get laid. I’ve been with a handful of girls. Sure I’ve dated a lot. But that’s because they leave me.”

“Oh.” Hopper reached across the table and took Steve’s hand. “I’m really sorry, kid. You have no idea. I’m cop. I’m shouldn’t have taken your reputation at face value. I know you’re a good kid with a good head on his shoulders.”

Steve nodded. “I guess it’s just that no one stuck up for me. I just wanted one person to see that I was worthy of defense, too.”

Hopped tilted his head back to stop the tears that threatened to overflow. “Come over here.”

Steve got up and shuffled over to the other side of the booth. Hopper put his arm around him and tucked Steve’s head under his chin. “That’s a valid feeling. And you absolutely deserve that.” 

*

Steve arrived back at his place just as Eddie pulled up in his van.

As Hopper drove off, Eddie turned to Steve. “I hope that was a lot of groveling.”

Steve nodded. “It was. A milkshake, too.”

Eddie nodded back. “Good. You deserve nothing less.“

Steve let them in, pulling the note and handing it to Eddie, because he knew Eddie would be curious to know what it said.

“Thanks for the note, babe,” Eddie said. “I’m glad you got here first, though.”

“You’re welcome. It was also for anyone else who might have tried to come apologize,” Steve explained as he made his way to the kitchen.

He pulled out two water bottles and handed one to Eddie. “I don’t know why I get so thirsty after getting milkshakes.”

“That’s because, beautiful, you always get the richest milkshake on the menu,” Eddie teased.

“But it’s also the best!” Steve protested.

Eddie kissed his cheek. “It sure is.” He chew on his lip for a moment. “Uncle Wayne wants you to stop by for dinner tonight.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Okay. Yeah, sure. According to Hop, Wayne also called him to bitch him out.”

Eddie grinned. “I know, I was listening. It was glorious.”

Steve laughed.

*

The second Steve walked into the Munson’s house, Wayne pulled in him for a hug.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Wayne murmured. “I know you’ll take care of my nephew. Because he takes care of you.”

Steve nodded, melting into the embrace.

Wayne gently pulled away. “Come on, I made your favorite.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Holy shit, really?”

Wayne laughed. “I don’t know why you like it so much. It’s super simple.”

“But that’s why it’s so good,” Steve said. “I love your tater tot casserole.”

Wayne waved him in. “Then come on then. It’s hot and waiting for ya.”

They talked and Wayne properly apologized. And after dinner Wayne put on a pre-season football game and got Steve laughing and cheering in no time at all.

Wayne and Eddie shared a glance over Steve’s head. Yeah, this boy was theirs now.

***

And I’ll see about having the last part up tonight. It’ll be everyone apologizing. The reason they didn’t apologize the next day (not only to give Wayne and Hopper a chance to apologize) is because they had to do some real soul searching before they did. Especially Robin and Nancy. 

I also hope I got everyone who wanted to be tagged.

Part four  Part Five  Part Six

Tag: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

[sparkle-fiend]

A very happy birthday to @thefreakandthehair 🥳

Steve pulls into the driveway behind Eddie’s van and just sits for a second after turning off the car. It’s been a shit day – he hates his new coworker, a kid puked in the aisle between the cartoons and the romantic comedies, and a downpour started the moment it was time to leave. He can feel a headache threatening just behind his left eye. 

But none of that matters now. He breathes in and out until the frustration fades, feeling the tension ease out of his shoulders and clenched jaw. It’s movie night and Steve has the day off work tomorrow – which means he and Eddie will probably get pleasantly toasted and watch movies until they pass out together on the Munson’s couch. He’s been looking forward to it all day.

He pulls his umbrella out of the back seat and flicks it open, even though it’s not far to the door. The rain is coming down so hard it makes a drum beat on the thin nylon stretched over his head, so loud he almost misses the sound of cursing coming from the backyard – until a particularly loud “Fuck!” filters through the rain sounds.

Steve immediately circles around the corner of the house. He spots Eddie by the thrifted patio table, looking like a drowned cat with his curls weighted down by rainwater. Bizarrely, he seems to be wrestling with a bunch of balloons tied to the back of a chair. 

“Eddie?” Steve calls out.

Eddie fumbles with the pocketknife he was using to try and cut the balloons free. “Shit!” He sticks his thumb into his mouth and flings the little blade onto the table. “Damn thing’s too dull to cut string, but it can still cut my hand? Argghhh!”

Steve jogs across the yard to reach him. “Hey, are you okay? What the hell are you doing out here?” 

Eddie pouts as Steve hands him the umbrella, tugging the wounded hand away from his mouth so he can check it over.

“Well I had everything set up for an awesome party, and then this rain fucked it all up.”

“I didn’t know you were having a party,” Steve says absentmindedly. He smoothes a finger gently over the little cut on Eddie’s thumb. Thankfully, it’s not deep – the bleeding is already coming to a stop.

“Uh, yeah?” Steve looks up at Eddie’s confused tone. “For your birthday?”

Oh. Steve immediately feels like an idiot. It is his birthday – he’d actually forgotten it. He tries to laugh it off. “Oh yeah. I just wasn’t expecting a party or anything.”

Eddie looks weirdly upset by that statement. “But you’re… Steve, you’re the birthday guy. The party king of the Party. You love birthdays!”

That’s not exactly true. Steve likes taking care of people. He likes to give gifts and cook for his friends – birthdays just give him a good excuse. His own birthday has never really been a big deal.

“And after the blowout bash you put together for me, you didn’t think I’d try to do something for you?”

“I didn’t… you don’t have to like, return the favor or anything. That’s not why I did it.” Steve runs his hand through his hair nervously. All the volume is gone, deflated in the rain – just sad, limp strands of hair fighting to curl in whichever direction they please, instead of his carefully styled swoop. “I just… like to celebrate the people I care about.”

That might be admitting too much, but it’s the truth. 

Eddie’s face softens. “Steve, this party isn’t some kind of obligation. I… we’re doing it for the same reason – to celebrate someone we care about.”

His dark eyes are so intense. It feels like there’s more there – a weight to his words, something Eddie’s not admitting to out loud yet. Like they’re standing on the edge of something, almost ready to take a leap.

The moment is broken when a rivulet of icy water runs down Steve’s back. He shivers violently, and both boys blink. 

“Shit, you’re standing here soaked,” Steve says. “You must be freezing. Let’s get inside.”

They walk close together under the umbrella on the way back to the house, and Steve enjoys the warm press of Eddie’s shoulder against his own.

It’s not until they reach the door that something occurs to him. “Wait… you said ‘we’?” 

Eddie flashes a wild, impish grin. He flings open the door, revealing a living room packed to bursting with damp partygoers, waterlogged streamers and balloons. “Surprise!!!”

[ambrossart]

Post Prom - Part II

⏪ part one

summary: after leaving prom, you and eddie go to the hideout to reminisce and listen to music. one thing leads to another, and you end up going back to his trailer.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 7,167 warnings: language, new relationship, underage drinking, reminiscing about the past, pent-up feelings finally being expressed, very slightly NSFW, mostly just a lot of making out, plus a little dry humping, nothing too explicit, some suggestive language, talk of sex but no actual depictions of sex, eddie being adorable, eddie being romantic

This short story is the epilogue to Dancing with Myself. For proper context, I highly suggest you read that before reading this.

Eddie had to fiddle with the lock a few times before the front door would open.

While he jiggled his keys and cursed under his breath, you stood on the step below with your stomach all knotted up like macramé, watching the tiny moths flutter beneath the gleam of the porchlight. This wasn’t your first time standing here. You had been here before, almost six years ago, when you came and started banging on Eddie’s door at ten o’clock in the morning, yelling for him to get his stubborn ass outside. The memory made you giggle. You had been so nervous back then. Shit, you were nervous now… just a different kind, you supposed.

A soft creak drew your attention back to the front door. Eddie pulled it open with a triumphant smile and held it for you.

“Well,” he said, “this is it…”

And right before you went inside, you saw Eddie suck in a shallow breath. He was nervous, nervous about letting you see inside his house—his private, most intimate place—completely unprepared. You felt honored and grateful to know he trusted you that much.

Smiling, you brushed past him and walked through the front door. As soon as you did, you were overcome with this overwhelming and indescribable warmth that spread through your whole body. It felt less like you were entering Eddie’s house and more like you were entering his world. After years of standing outside it, only ever getting as close as the front porch, you had finally been allowed inside. It was hard not to get a little emotional about it.

“Sorry about the mess,” Eddie said, but honestly, you didn’t even notice it. Your feet moved on their own and carried you deeper inside, into the living room. There, you found a dark brown sofa chair sitting in the far right corner and a light brown loveseat resting against a draped window. A bit worn, both of them, but still in good shape. Pushed against the opposite wall was a small television, a writing desk with a built-in shelf, and a roll-out folding bed, where you imagined Eddie’s uncle resting after a long night’s work. It was a charming room, well-lit and cozy, full of all these random little knickknacks that you could have spent hours browsing through. There were hats hanging on the walls, dozens of them, and long wooden shelves lined with nothing but souvenir mugs, more than you could even begin to count.

“You know, your uncle could open a gift shop with all this stuff.”

Eddie was watching you from the front door, a faint smile on his face. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, he’s quite the collector.”

You nodded absentmindedly and proceeded into the kitchen, humming as you ran your hand along a small dining table set for two, with mismatched chairs.

Eddie gave you a bemused look and said, “What are you doing?”

“Just looking around,” you answered with a shrug. “Why? Do you not want me to?”

“Uhh, no,” Eddie said, a little taken aback. “Go crazy.”

So with his permission, you did. You fingered through some of the clutter on the counter, cracked open a few cabinets and drawers, snuck a little peek into the fridge—just a quick one to sate your curiosity, perfectly harmless. And as you did this, you imagined Eddie growing up here: making breakfast for himself before school, doing his homework at the counter, eating dinner with his uncle at the dining table. Did he use the upholstered chair or the simpler metal one leaning against the pantry? You couldn’t quite decide.

Then you moseyed down the hallway, looking at this and that. You pushed open the door, switched on the light to see into the bathroom… and stopped dead in your tracks when you reached the bedroom at the end of the hall.

Your stomach flipped twice, end over end. Yeah, you didn’t dare step foot in Eddie’s room. Instead, you spun around and went scurrying back the way you came, feeling much less adventurous than before.

As you shyly approached, Eddie said, “Well, did you enjoy your little tour?”

“I did,” you said while you played with the tip of your pinky. “Yeah, I really like your house.”

“Well, good,” Eddie said with a crooked, bashful smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

And then you both fell silent, listening to the low hum of a lightbulb that wasn’t quite screwed on tight enough. You stood with your back pressed against a metal storage rack. Across from you, Eddie was still by the front door, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He had his left hand on the backrest of one of the dining chairs, and his nails kept scratching against the upholstery as he slowly curled and uncurled his fingers. His silver-plated rings winked at you every time they caught the light. After a while, it was starting to drive you crazy.

Those damn rings, you thought, they’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.

Eddie’s voice made you jump.

“I’m gonna grab a beer,” he said. “Do you, uh, want one?”

“Sure,” you said.

After all, a little liquid courage couldn’t hurt, could it?

Eddie grabbed two cans of beer from the fridge, opened one, and handed it to you. “Thanks,” you said, and then he went into the living room and made himself comfortable on the sofa.

No, on the loveseat.

Eddie threw his feet up on the coffee table, cracked open his beer and took a few slow sips. Upon lowering his drink, he turned toward you and made a beckoning motion with just the tip of his finger.

This one simple gesture set your nerves on fire! You made it only a few steps into the living room before you backpedaled into the counter and huddled against it like a coward. It dawned on you now, actually now, that you and Eddie were finally, truly, alone. Yeah, this wasn’t two kids whispering downstairs in a basement or two high school students flirting in a public restroom on prom night. This was you and Eddie.

Together.

Alone.

Oh fuck, you thought as a shiver ran up your spine. You brought the aluminum can to your lips and took the biggest gulp of your life.

Now Eddie was getting up and walking toward you. He sank down beside you with his beer in his hand and said in a hushed voice, “Why are you hiding?”

“Why are you whispering?” you said, and Eddie’s face scrunched up adorably, like he didn’t have a clue.

“I dunno,” he answered in his normal voice. Then he took a long, long drink and wiped his wet lips with the knuckle of his thumb. “Seriously, though, why are you hiding from me?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, and turned away. “You make me really nervous.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Really? Well, that’s… interesting.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw his lips curl into a proud grin.

“Oh, don’t get all smug now!” you said, giving him a little shove.

“I’m not, I’m not. It’s just…” His face softened with a gentle smile. “It’s a good feeling, knowing I make you nervous.”

Eddie’s words made you blush. You set your beer aside and burrowed deep into Wayne’s jacket. “I’m not used to you being like this.”

“Like what?”

“All… confident and flirty. I dunno, I guess I’m just used to you running away from me all the time.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “I never ran away from you.”

“Really?” you said with a teasing smirk. “‘Cause I can think of at least four separate occasions where you saw me and immediately took off in the opposite direction.”

“Well, that’s… because I was scared of you.”

You bent your head and started to giggle. Eddie watched you out of the corner of his eye, struggling to hold in a laugh of his own.

“You finally admit it.”

“I finally admit it…”

Eddie put down his beer and smiled at you. Then his eyes took on a strange glint, as if inflamed by some mysterious spark of emotion. Without speaking, he rolled his weight onto his right arm and swung his body over yours, pinning you up against the counter.

His deep brown eyes bore into yours as he said, “Luckily, I’m not fourteen anymore.”

Your lips parted with an inaudible gasp. No, you definitely aren’t, you thought, and drew away from him a little. This was too much. The house was too quiet; Eddie was too close; and you… you were silently chanting the Lord’s Prayer in hopes of banishing the evil spirit that was currently possessing your thoughts.

Your eyes closed as Eddie’s nose grazed your cheek.

“Hey,” he whispered, “can I tell you a secret?”

You nodded vaguely, unable to speak. When you opened your eyes, Eddie was hovering over you and staring at your face with a soft, almost sleepy gaze.

“You make me nervous, too,” he said. “Pretty much on a daily basis.”

“Really?” Your nose wrinkled in disbelief. “You don’t seem nervous.”

“You don’t think so?” he said. “C’mere.”

He took your hand and held it to his chest. His heart thundered desperately against your palm.

In a flustered voice, you said, “Okay, if this is a move, it’s a good one.”

Eddie’s chest shook as he laughed. “Well, good,” he said. “I’ll make sure to use it on the next girl I invite over.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Shut up,” you said, but you didn’t raise your hand to smack him like you normally would. Instead, you closed your eyes and let your hand melt into him, feeling his heat, feeling his heartbeat, riding each wave of his ragged breath. Was this what it always felt like? When Eddie saw you in the hallway, in the cafeteria, in class, did his heart ache for you just like this? It almost seemed impossible, didn’t it? Before tonight, this would’ve been nothing more than a fantasy, but now… right now… it felt too real to be anything but true.

You laid your head on Eddie’s chest, felt his heart jog and then settle back into a steady rhythm: slower than before but still beating strong. Then you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you tighter against him. You nuzzled your head into his chin. He pressed his lips to your hairline and sighed against your skin.

“I really missed you,” he said.

After that, time seemed to stop. You raised your head off Eddie’s chest and smiled at him. He kissed you softly on the lips and drew back with smoldering eyes. You touched your hand to his face, gently brushing your fingers over his bottom lip, and he leaned in and kissed you again, taking the last six years of yearning and heartache and igniting them into passion. His grip on your waist tightened. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. You kissed slowly, deeply, and then he grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the counter.

Items scattered and shifted. Somewhere behind you, a cup fell with a hollow clink. You broke the kiss, laughing, and craned your head to see where it landed. Eddie hooked his hand around your jaw and pulled you back, kissing you again and again until

Brrring! Brrring!

the phone rang.

The sound blared through the silent house like a fire alarm. You and Eddie broke away and stared at each other, breathless and bewildered. Then you buried your face in the crook of his neck and crumbled into giggles.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie said, looking up with a wide, defeated smile. He cupped your face and pressed one more kiss to your lips, and as he pulled away, he whispered in a slow, forceful voice: “Don’t move.”

He went to the ringing phone and lifted the handset off the wall.

“Yeah?” he said while rubbing his forehead.

“Hey, man!” It was Gareth, calling at almost two in the morning. “I thought you’d be home by now…” Lips smacked and popcorn crunched. In the background, an old sci-fi movie was playing. “So, how’d it go, dude?”

“Uhh, good.” Eddie glanced back at you and a smile came to his face. “Really good.”

He turned around, looked for a seat, and sat down on top of the kitchen table. Meanwhile, you had climbed down from the counter and were now carefully rearranging the ruffled layers of your taffeta skirt, making sure they lay neatly against your thigh. A guttural sound emerged from Eddie’s throat as he watched you. He closed his eyes and cursed his friend’s timing.

“No shit,” said Gareth in disbelief. “You actually got Chrissy to dance with you?”

“Uhh… no,” Eddie said. “You were right, man, that was a terrible idea.”

A terrible and wonderful idea. It brought him straight to you.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, buddy,” Gareth said. “How’re you doing?”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m, uhh…” You caught his eye and gave him a sweet smile that he couldn’t help but return. “I’m better than ever, man.”

“Is that Gareth?” you asked.

Eddie nodded, rolled his eyes, and said, “Uh-huh…” while his friend’s voice faded into the background.

He watched you fidget in sheer boredom for a while: tracing random patterns on the counter with your finger, flicking the lampshade and making it spin, picking up a pair of pliers, fiddling with them for a second, and putting them back down. Then you leaned forward and laid your chin on your palm, giving him a coy, impatient little pout that awakened something primal within him. The handset slipped out of his hand, pulled the coiled cord taut, and clattered to the floor. Eddie picked it up and clumsily brought it back to his ear.

“Hey, I gotta go, man.”

“Huh?” Gareth said. “What do you mean, you—Wait, are you with someone right now?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He was on his feet and moving.

“I’ll, uhh, talk to you later, buddy.”

“No, wait! Eddie! Eddie!”

“Don’t call me back,” Eddie said. He pulled the handset away from his ear and

“Edd—”

hung it on the base with a click.

During all this, you were snickering with your hand over your mouth. Eddie stepped away from the phone and—suddenly, it was ringing again! Your laughter grew into muffled snorts. Eddie picked up the phone and growled: “Fuck off!” then slammed it back down. And when it rang a third time (because, of course, it had to ring a third time), he grabbed the cable and yanked it right out of the socket.

“What if there’s an emergency?” you said, giggling, as Eddie came toward you.

“I… don’t care,” he muttered dazedly, and he scooped your face into his hands and kissed you.

This was not a chaste, gentleman’s kiss. This was a lover’s kiss, full of heat and passion, desperation and desire. You closed your eyes and parted your lips as Eddie trailed kisses down your chin and along your jaw. His calloused hands, strong but tender, traced down your neck and tugged on the collar of Wayne’s jacket, pulling it over your shoulders, down your arms, and letting it fall to the floor. “Watch the jacket,” you said, and a sharp gasp escaped you. The contrast between the warmth of Eddie’s hands and the coldness of his rings made you shiver as he caressed your bare arms, slowly, gently. He kissed his way up to your mouth, cupped the side of your face, and slipped his tongue between your lips. You curled your hand into his shirt and let out a soft moan.

But then he drew back with a wince.

“Hey, I didn’t plan this or anything. You know that, right?”

Eddie’s dark eyes passed over your face, searching for any signs of doubt. “I mean… I didn’t bring you here to uhh, y’know, try to get in your pants.”

Your grip on his shirt loosened. “Oh,” you said, and looked at the floor with an embarrassed smile. “Well, that’s a little disappointing…”

(because you were definitely trying to get in his)

As those words left your lips, the air between you became thick with tension. You timidly ran your hand down Eddie’s chest, a faint blush rising to your face, and his eyes grew wide as realization washed over him.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said. He gulped deeply, combed his hand nervously through his hair, and spoke in a heated, trembling voice: “Umm… are you sure?”

You pulled him in by his shirt and kissed him. As you broke away, your eyes were calm and unwavering.

“I’m sure.”

The world seemed dreamlike as your body sank into Eddie’s mattress. His fingers interlaced with yours as he slowly crawled you backwards toward the wall, his chest above yours, knees astride your legs while he pressed soft, tender kisses to your greedy lips. He pushed down on your chest gently and the mattress came up to meet you: your elbows fell one after the other and your head landed gently on the pillow. Eddie’s scent lingered in the fabric, a mixture of sweat, soap, cologne, and cigarette smoke. You breathed it in deeply and shivered.

All the while, his hands never left yours. They rubbed against your palms, slid between your fingers, and pushed your hands deeper into the mattress. Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling as he kissed down your neck and along your chest, the moisture of his mouth lingering everywhere his lips touched. The sensation overwhelmed you. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you stared around Eddie’s bedroom with half-lidded eyes, taking in everything—the posters on the walls, the clothes strewn about the floor, all the clutter on his desk, dresser, and nightstand: beer cans, guitar cables, cassette tapes, empty packs of cigarettes. Next to the desk was an acoustic guitar with a message painted on the body. You had to sit up and squint your eyes in order to read it.

“This machine slays dragons?” You threw your head back against the pillow and giggled. “Wow, Munson, just when I thought you couldn’t get any nerdier…”

Your laughter broke into stifled gasps as Eddie caught your skin between his teeth. He nibbled gently on your collarbone and ran his tongue up your neck, then trailed lazy kisses from the edge of your jaw to the corner of your mouth, stopping there as he leaned back onto his left elbow.

While playing with your fingers, he said with a cheeky little smile, “Sorry, were you saying something just now?”

“Uhh, no,” you said, feeling breathless and dizzy. “I, umm…”

Eddie lowered himself back down until his mouth was hovering over yours, close but not quite touching.

“You forgot?” he said in a low voice.

Your head bobbed slightly as you stared at his lips, desperately craving the contact that was currently out of reach. You moved up to kiss him and he pulled away, a smile dragging up the side of his face.

A frustrated huff blew through your nose. “Please,” you said, and immediately snapped your mouth shut.

Shit, you thought. That one was gonna cost you.

Eddie’s eyes brightened with surprised delight. “Uh, what was that? Did I just hear you say please?”

“No,” you said as a shameful heat engulfed your face.

“Oh, I think I did,” he said, chuckling. “Uh-oh, now I have to make you say it again.”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda need you to say it again, so…”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth lifted into a tantalizing smirk as he parted your lips with his thumb, drawing a whimper from deep in your throat.

“Please,” you whispered, and a switch went off in his head.

All of a sudden, Eddie’s eyes darkened with a naked, carnal lust that made your core clench and quiver with need. You arched your back as he lowered himself back down to you, and when he reached your lips, he kissed you with a hungry motion that left your whole body crying out for more. You dug your hands into his back, pressed yourself tighter against him. He ground his hips into yours and sucked gently on your neck, leaving faint marks all over your skin. Your breath hitched as you felt his hardening length through the fabric of his jeans. He moaned against you and moved back to your face, kissing your mouth, your chin, your cheek, and he whispered huskily into your ear, “Are you a virgin?”

The question hit you like a sobering slap.

“Maybe,” you said. “So what?”

“Hey, you don’t have to get defensive. I’m just asking, okay? It’s important that I know.”

“Okay, well… now you know.” You recoiled from him and turned your head to the side, staring at the heap of clothes on his floor. A lump formed in your throat as thoughts churned in your head. You swallowed hard and said in a small voice, “I take it you’re pretty experienced.”

Eddie gave you a funny look. “Well, I’m not that experienced. Mostly, I just watch a lot of porn.”

A giggle burst out of you, making your chest feel fluttery and light. When you turned back, you were welcomed by Eddie’s warm, comforting stare. He kissed your lips softly and a smile illuminated your face.

“So Corroded Coffin doesn’t have any groupies?”

“Not unless you count Gareth’s mom… which I do.”

You two broke into laughter. Eddie took your hand, pressed a few kisses to your knuckles, and leaned down to kiss you. As you parted, a question slithered its way into your mind:

“Hey, can you really tie a cherry stem with your tongue?”

Eddie arched his eyebrow. “Have you been thinking about that all night?”

“No, not all night,” you said with a sheepish smile. “So can you?”

Eddie snickered, his warm breath fanning your face. “No,” he said. “No, I was just trying to make you blush.”

“Oh,” you said, and felt your face get hot again. Well, you could’ve fooled me.

The previous urgency of his desire was replaced with caring deliberation. His hands gently caressed your waist, your hips, your thighs, tracing around every curve until he had each one of them memorized. You felt short of breath as he lowered his head and started kissing your breasts through the fabric of your dress. A whimper rose in your throat and you withered helplessly against him. You dragged your foot up his left pant leg, ran your hand up his right arm, feeling his hair between your fingers, drawing over his tattoos, pushing up his sleeve to squeeze the hard muscle of his bicep. He kissed the tops of your breasts, your chest, the side of your neck, and felt your hand on his face, beckoning him.

You both shared a moan when your bodies reconnected. Soft breaths filled the room as your hunger for one another grew, your hips moving together in a slow, passionate rhythm. Eddie panted against your lips, stared deeply into your eyes, and when his hand slid between your thighs, you pulled away and said through the static of your thoughts,

“Umm, Eddie? I don’t mean to kill the mood or anything, but umm… do you have a condom?”

The resulting silence was deafening. Eddie’s lips grazed your cheek and he drew back with a muddled expression, his mouth open, eyes slowly blinking, blinking, blinking.

You shrank away from him and grimaced. “It’s just, umm… you know, getting pregnant on prom night wasn’t quite the cliche I had in mind.”

You forced out a laugh and it instantly died in your throat. Great, you thought. Turns out, you hadn’t killed the mood at all. No, what you did was far more sadistic and cruel. Instead of taking it out in one clean shot, you missed all its vital organs and now you had to watch it limp away and die a slow, agonizing death. Way to go, sharpshooter.

Eddie shook his head and, finally, the haze in his eyes cleared.

“Uhh… right, shit,” he said, “just, umm… hold on.”

He climbed to his feet, pulled out his wallet, and froze as soon as he peeked into the fold.

“Shit,” he said under his breath.

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “You don’t have one, do you?”

“No,” Eddie said quickly, with a little tremor of panic in his voice. “No, I do… just, uhh…”

He went to his dresser and started going through all the drawers: pulling them open, rifling through them for a minute, then slamming them closed. Then he went to his desk and did the same thing. With every slam, your cringe deepened. It was like watching a massacre in slow motion. You had shot and missed, and now Eddie was savagely beating the mood to death with a rock. Just put the poor thing out of its misery already!

“Eddie,” you said.

He pushed his palm toward you. “Don’t… Don’t go anywhere,” he said in a distracted voice, and he spun around and stumbled out of the bedroom.

“Where would I even go?” you said, baffled. Then you slapped your hand to your forehead and cursed yourself for saying anything at all. Of all the times to listen to your gut, you chose now—now, when you were this close to living out all your horny teenage fantasies with the man of your dreams. What happened to the angel and the devil on your shoulder? Should you? Shouldn’t you? The funny little back-and-forth? You figured there would’ve been at least a little bit of that, but nope! The stop sign went up and you slammed your foot on the brake right in the middle of a four-way intersection: crash, smash, KABOOM!

“Goddammit.”

You sighed, rolled onto your side, and started shuffling through the comics you found beside Eddie’s bed.

“Hey, you have Creepshow!” You plucked it out of the pile and opened it to the first short story. “Have you seen the movie? Oh my god, Munson, that last one with the cockroaches… boy, did that mess me up for a while. I freaked out every time I had to turn on the light in the kitchen. And I have a pretty strong nerve when it comes to horror. Michael Myers, Leatherface, Freddy Krueger, zombies, monsters, blood, gore, stabbing—I watched Cannibal Holocaust, for God’s sake! But fucking bugs? Yeah, I draw the line there. It’s like that movie, The Fly, that scene with the spiderweb… Nope, I turned my TV off so quick. I still haven’t finished that movie. I’ll probably watch the remake when it comes out, though, ‘cause… well, I do love Jeff Goldblum.”

You figured Eddie wasn’t listening and, honestly, you didn’t care because your silly babbling was the only thing saving you from the discomfort of this incredibly awkward situation. Without it, you would have spontaneously combusted out of pure shame. Eddie, meanwhile, was fumbling around helplessly in the kitchen: slamming cabinets, opening drawers, cracking open the…

fridge?

You looked up in bewildered amusement, then casually flipped to the next page. “I don’t think you’re gonna find any condoms in the fridge, Munson.”

“Yeah, well, there weren’t any in the oven, so…”

The fridge closed with a quiet thud. A moment later, Eddie appeared in the doorway with a hopeless expression on his face.

“You’ve completely lost it, haven’t you?”

“I’m the Sahara,” you said, and Eddie winced at your brutal choice of metaphor.

“You’re the Sahara, huh?” He pounded his fist on the doorframe a couple times, then hung his head and chuckled miserably to himself. “Great, just great.”

He slumped down by your feet and sat doubled over with his elbows on his knees. The seconds dragged on like hours as you two sat on opposite ends of the bed, not saying a word to each other. You kept flipping through the comic, but you didn’t read any of it, not a single word. You thought you had ruined the whole night.

You sucked in a quiet breath and—

“Sorry,” Eddie said, making you jerk your head up in surprise. As you looked at him now, he seemed strikingly timid, like the fourteen-year-old boy who could barely hold your gaze. “Guess I should’ve been better prepared before I, umm…”

His shoulders bounced with light, easy laughter.

“What’s so funny?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said while fiddling with the ring on his right hand. “It’s just, uhh… y’know, I’ve thought of this moment for a long time, a long time, and now that I finally got you here…” A peaceful smile touched his face. “It’s just funny how it all worked out.”

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Eddie sat up and turned toward you. “We don’t have to rush this,” he said. “In fact, it’s probably better that we don’t.”

“Yeah,” you said. Then, with a shy dip of your head: “Except now you’ve got me a little curious.”

“Hm? About what?”

“Well… you said you’ve thought about it…”

Eddie grunted low in his throat, a guilty, guttural sound.

“Uh-huh,” you said, snickering. “So… how was I?”

“You were, uhh…” He ground his jaw in thought for a minute, then closed his eyes and said with a deeply satisfied sigh, “Sensational.”

That sent you over the edge! You fell over, chortling hysterically until your stomach started cramping and you just couldn’t take it anymore. While drying your eyes, you said, “Sensational, huh? Well, there’s a bar I’ll never reach.”

“Yeah, I’m not too worried,” Eddie said.

The conviction in his voice threw your heart into a panic. You turned away, pressed your burning face into the cool pages of Eddie’s comic book, and pretended to go back to reading. That’s when you felt the bed dip as Eddie stretched out beside you, lying on his stomach with his elbows supporting him.

“So you’ve been snooping, huh?” He gestured toward the comic with his chin. “What’d you find that’s so interesting?”

“Creepshow.” You turned to the next page. “Hey, why do you have this, anyway? I thought you didn’t like horror.”

“Yeah, well… apparently, I’m Halloween-themed.”

Your breath hitched in mid-sentence. You lifted your eyes off the page and met Eddie’s affectionate stare.

“I still don’t get what that means, by the way.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” you said, and let out a quiet laugh. “I thought I knew when I said it, but now that I think about it, it doesn’t really make that much sense, does it?”

You gave Eddie small smile and went back to reading. He lay next to you for a bit longer, observing the subtle changes in your focused expression. Then he suddenly got up and started rummaging through his desk drawers again. The familiar slamming sound made you giggle.

“Okay, the condom fairy doesn’t exist, Munson. No matter how many times you open that drawer, a box of condoms won’t magically appear.”

“Oh, I’ve already given up on that dream,” Eddie said. He crossed the room, dropped to his knees, and started digging through all the junk under his bed.

Now you were getting a little curious yourself. You climbed to your knees, put your hands on the edge of the mattress, and peered down at him.

“I’m not interested in your porn collection, either.”

Eddie popped his head up and smiled at you. “This isn’t where I keep my porn,” he said, and tossed you a flirty little wink. Then he went back under the bed and—“Holy shit!”—dragged out a black three-ring binder.

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw it. “Wait, is that…?”

You gasped excitedly and made a “gimme” motion with your hands. When Eddie couldn’t meet your demands fast enough, you snatched the binder off the floor and sat down with it in the middle of the bed. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Fuck, man,” Eddie said while scratching the back of his head, “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you said, and swept some of the dust off the cover.

The binder looked exactly the same as you remembered, right down to the black-and-white Black Sabbath sticker with the giant rip in the corner. You opened it up and started flipping through it like it was a fully illustrated, limited-edition novel from your favorite fantasy author. It had everything: character sheets, ability guides, spell lists, equipment and inventory tables, maps, drawings, detailed notes from every session, and all these little extra reference pages to help describe his character’s attacks, actions, and movements, because Eddie wanted to sound so cool during combat. You couldn’t stop smiling as you went through it. It was like a little time capsule.

“It’s so weird,” Eddie said in a quiet, captivated voice.

You looked up and saw him sitting directly across from you, staring not at the binder but at you.

“What’s weird?” you asked.

“I dunno, it’s just… sometimes when I look at you, I get these little flashes of back then. It’s kinda freaky, actually, like déjà vu or something.” Eddie’s face flushed a light pink, seeming to catch him by surprise. He immediately shook the thought away. “Uhh, sorry. Go ahead and keep snooping.”

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment longer, then went back to the page. You turned to the next section and said, “Oh my god, here it is! The Shrieking Queen’s Catacombs, Scottie’s infamous campaign. How many pages are there of you just complaining about me, Munson? Let’s count, shall we? Uhh, one, two, three…”

You flipped to the next page and a loose paper slid out.

“What’s this?” you said, and casually looked it over. “Well, this looks like a very poorly rendered dungeon map.” Laughing, you examined it closer. “The Labyrinth of Neverending Nightmares. Ohhhh, how spooky… Wait, this doesn’t look like one of Scottie’s, though. No, his are like ten levels deep and full of all these annoying traps that someone always gets caught in, and by ‘someone’ I mean you, Munson. Then I have to get you out because for some reason you can’t roll higher than a fucking two…”

You giggled at the memory, then showed Eddie the paper and said, “Okay, I give up. What is this?”

“It’s mine,” Eddie said with a modest smile, making your face fall in astonishment. “Yeah, that’s my dungeon. Or at least one of them, anyway. I thought I chose one of the better-drawn maps, but obviously not…”

Your eyes were wide as you listened to him. When you finally blinked, they became wet and blurry.

“Wait, what? You wrote a campaign? How come you never told me?”

“I was working up to it,” Eddie said. “I had it in my backpack for like two weeks ‘cause I kept chickening out. And by the time I finally gathered up enough courage to do it, well…”

“I killed you.”

“Yeah…”

The words echoed in your mind like a curse. You buried your face in your hands and cried out in anguish: “Oh my god, I’m a monster!”

“Well, you’re a really pretty monster,” Eddie said with a light-hearted chuckle, but you didn’t laugh like he thought you would. Instead, you sat hunched over with your hands covering your face, sniffling back tears. He reached for you and gave your shoulder a shake. “Hey, come on, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry. I’ve already seen you cry way too much tonight, and I really don’t like it.”

He leaned over and brought his lips close to your ear.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters to me,” you said, and raised your chin to look at him. The compassion in his eyes almost made you burst into tears again. You didn’t deserve it. “Four years, Eddie. That’s a really long time. I can’t help but think of all the things we missed out on, and now…”

Now they were all piling onto your chest like bricks. The weight of it was enough to crush you. You lowered your head and felt your eyes well up with guilt and grief.

“But we didn’t miss out on anything.” Eddie gently took your face into his hands, dried your tears with his thumbs. “We’re still gonna do everything. I’m gonna take you on a date, a real date ‘cause I don’t think this one technically counts. And I’m gonna meet your parents, which I’m already kinda dreading, if I’m being totally honest. And we’re gonna, y’know, cut class and go make out in my van. That’ll be really fun. Yeah, I’m actually really looking forward to that one. And then, uhh, let’s see… we’re gonna have our first fight in like three weeks, so I better start preparing for that now ‘cause I just know you’re gonna fight dirty. Yeah, you’re definitely gonna hit me below the belt a couple times. But that’s okay ‘cause the make-up sex will be fantastic—y’know, once we actually have condoms. I’ll buy some tomorrow. A big box.”

You snorted under your breath. “I think a regular box is fine.”

“No, just… trust me,” Eddie said. “We need a big box.”

You blinked at him for a second, dumbstruck and speechless, your cheeks all aflame. Then your head slipped out of his hands as your whole body collapsed into giggles.

With a shadow of a smirk, Eddie said, “You think I’m joking right now, but I’m not. I’m buying the biggest box they have.”

“Please, stop,” you said, barely able to breathe.

“I’m just saying, I’m gonna be fully prepared next time… assuming there is a next time, anyway.”

You lifted your head and smiled at him, your face glowing in the aftermath of your laughter. “There will definitely be a next time,” you said. Then you placed a feather-light kiss on his lips, drew back, and he pulled you in for another, deeper kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw.

“So, is it scary?” you asked afterwards.

“Is what scary?”

“The campaign you wrote, is it really scary?”

“I made it extra scary just for you.”

“Wow,” you said with an awestruck grin, “an extra scary campaign just for me? Well, now we have to play it… Can we?”

In a tender voice, Eddie said, “You’re the only one I’d ever play it with,” and you felt your eyes tear up again.

Choking them back, you returned your attention to the binder and discovered something that made your heart swell with indescribable joy.

“Hey… this looks familiar.”

It was the character sheet you had made for him. He had kept it, after all.

“I tried to fix it,” Eddie said while you carefully brushed your fingers over the softened wrinkles in the paper. There was a giant iron burn in the middle.

“How hot was the iron?” you asked.

“Oh, it was scorching,” Eddie said. “Yeah, it’s a miracle I didn’t burn the house down.”

Your laughter rang together effortlessly. For a second, it was like you two were back in middle school, giggling and goofing off in Scottie’s basement while everyone else stared at you and wondered what was so damn funny. It was a surreal feeling, being together like this again. In fact, it felt a little like

Déjà vu… Yeah, that is weird.

You touched the burn mark gently. “I thought you threw this away.”

Eddie furrowed his brow and shook his head, as if the thought had never even occurred to him.

Then, after a brief period of silence, he said, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Do you still have your journal?”

The question brought a smile to your face. “You know I do.”

Eddie nodded and put his hand over his mouth, concealing an ever-growing smile of his own. With his lips pressed against his knuckles, he said, “Okay, so… how many pages was I really in? I’ve always been curious.”

You went quiet for a minute, trying to count the pages, but you soon realized it was pointless. Even if you counted them a thousand times, the answer would always be the same.

“Not nearly enough,” you said, and Eddie’s eyes lit up with amazement.

“That’s… a really good answer,” he said, surrendering an embarrassed laugh. “Shit, okay… yeah, I think I need a second to recover from that one.”

He turned away and tried to regain his composure while you sat and watched, resisting the urge to tease him. Outside, a car was pulling up in front of the house across the road, its headlights flashing through the cracks in Eddie’s blinds. The sound of the engine made you both pause and reflect.

“I should probably take you home,” Eddie said.

“Yeah,” you said, “but then again, it is very late.”

“It is very late.”

“And you’re probably tired.”

“I am incredibly tired.”

“Plus, you’ve been drinking.”

“You’re right, I have been drinking… So have you.”

“Mhm,” you said, and felt your heart quicken with a surge of anxiety and excitement. “So, for both our sakes, I think the safest thing would be for me to just stay here tonight.”

You hid your eyes as you said this, worried you might’ve overstepped and crossed some invisible line, but then you heard Eddie let out a quiet, contented sigh and you felt silly for worrying at all.

“Okay,” he said, smiling to himself.

He went to his closet, pulled out two shirts and presented them to you. “All right, pick one: Slayer or Megadeth. Choose wisely ‘cause this decision could very well determine the future of our relationship.”

You pressed your lips together and thought hard about it for a while.

“Megadeth.”

“Good choice,” Eddie said, and tossed it to you. Then he gave you a pair of his boxers, blushing a little as he did. “Umm, I’ll be outside waiting on the porch, so uhh… just knock on the window when you’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you said, giving him a timid smile.

The air felt lighter, crisper as Eddie stepped onto the porch and sank into his uncle’s chair, a chair he had sat in over a hundred times: in the morning before school, at night while he watched his uncle leave for work, when he needed to think, when he couldn’t sleep, when he was simply bored and didn’t have anything better to do. Now here he was sitting in this beat-up old chair again, this time waiting for you.

Instinctively, Eddie reached for his cigarettes and realized he wasn’t wearing his jacket. Normally, this would make him grunt in frustration, but tonight he just threw his head back and sighed happily into the cool night air.

This was a good night, he thought, probably the best night of his life.

Then he heard your gentle tap, tap, tap on the window, stood up, and went back inside.

⏩️ bonus scene

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DWM MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

[finniestoncrane]

What're the Riddlers' favorite places to cum?

Riddlers Releasing

Riddler Headcanons absolutely lost my shit when i read this anon cos the preview had "place to cu..." and i thought it was cuddle because... i'm obviously forgetting who i am but anyway yeah they all like cumming wherever they can but these are what i think their favs are 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: it's cum so duh...

young justice

favourite place: in your hands

he likes having you on your knees in front of him, with your hands cupped

like you're begging for it, desperate and grateful for whatever you get

seeing the look of delight as he jerks off onto your palms

and whether you lap it up or let it drip onto your body, he's not bothered either way

just knowing you want to have him, and hold him, is plenty for him

btas

favourite place: on your stomach

he definitely likes fucking you while you're on your back

it's to make sure you're completely comfortable and relaxed at all times, part of the pleasure

and it means he gets to see your face, the expressions you make, the eye contact

hopefully it doesn't diminish the romance too much when he pulls out to shoot his load on your stomach

he'll help you clean up afterwards for sure!

unburied

favourite place: tits/chest

dude loves dragging his tip across your nipples it's like his favourite thing

his number one hobby, maybe even more so than riddles (maybe... maybe...)

whether you're laying flat or pressing your flesh together to make a balcony for him to cum onto

he just knows he likes seeing you look up at him, waiting patiently

and he likes when you let it sit there for a while on your soft skin

gotham

favourite place: into a tissue

listen, he cna get pretty freaky, he's a kinky lil due

BUT he's still pretty neat and tidy and controlling

so while he's fine to rut into you and choke you a little while he does so

he's still going to make sure to be respectful and clean when he finally cums, in true dorky fashion

"oh... oopsy... let me just... there we go... and i'll put that in the trash... and... all done! thank you, that was wonderful!"

arkham

favourite place: on your ass/back

fuck you it's my blog and i say that arkham!eddie's preferred position for sex is doggy style

he ruts like a feral disgusting animal and his orgasms are no different

he's wayiting until the last minute and then pulling out, resting his dick and balls on your ass

and letting his cum shoot in thick ropes all over your back

watching is spill back down over your cheeks is the perfect ending too

btaa

favourite place: on your face

you're so beautiful to him, and to paint you with his seed

it's an artistic expression, he swears! to see you covered in his own... romantic expression

(he promises he won't call his cumshot that ever again)

but just... close your eyes and look all sweet and serene

and he'll add the final touches to your perfect visage

twojar

favourite place: on himself

he'd far prefer for you to be riding on top of him, obeying his orders

go faster... go harder... ok stop moving completely just let him take in your body

and then get off! quick! hurry! because he's going to cum now

while you're seated on his thighs, he let's his cock twitch hands free

his cum landing messily all over his chest and abdomen, hoping that you'll make lick it off of him

telltale

favourite place: on your tongue

he's keen to have you on your knees, staring up at him with pleading eyes open and staring

one of his hands wrapped around his cock, pumping it with the head aimed directly at you

the other holding onto your face, chin in his palm, fingers pressed into your cheeks

your tongue stuck out expectantly over your lips

flat and wide to receive as much of him as you possibly can

zero year

favourite place: in your mouth

he's got a bad habit of holding you to him, pressed to the tuft of his red pubic hair

telling you to breathe with your nose and not your mouth

so that he doesn't have to pull out, so he can keep his head pressed to the back of your throat (or as close as he can get)

and then he'll use you, tugging at your hair to move you slightly back and forth

before he cums in your mouth and holds your lips shut till you've swallowed him completely

dano

favourite place: inside of you

he's got breeding kink and cream pie lover written all over his dumb round face

watching himself spill out of you once he's finished

seeing his seed covering your thighs or your entrance or your sheets as it drips from you

the feeling of owning you, of conquering you, of spoiling you

of being with you and inside you long after the orgasm is over

[sidekick-hero]

I never thought I needed saving (I’m in love this time)

(steddie | teen | 1.2k | @steddie-week | prompt: familiar | AO3)

Sunlight streams into the bedroom through the French window they both love so much, a soft breeze ruffling the floor-length curtains and sending their shadows dancing across the floor and the birds sing outside while the rest of the world continues to sleep peacefully.

His world also sleeps peacefully, in his arms with his chest rising and falling under Eddie’s hand, heart beating slowly and surely. Eddie knows the rhythm of Steve's heart better than his own, has caught it sneaking into the songs he writes more than once.

Waking up like this is as familiar to him as breathing. Steve's hair tickles his nose and he really needs to go to the bathroom soon. It's warm under the thin blanket they use, their combined body heat more than enough to keep them cozy. He's pressed against Steve's back, one of his legs between Steve's and his arm around his waist, his hand pressed against his chest. Steve's head is pillowed on his other arm and there's not much feeling left in it, it'll be all pins and needles later, but for now Eddie couldn't care less.

Because no matter how familiar this all is, no matter how often he's woken up like this, it's still the most miraculous thing in his life.

It's been five years to the day since they first laid eyes on each other at Robin and Nancy’s wedding, four years and 352 days since their first kiss under the bleachers of his old high school. And yet, there are still moments almost every day when he looks at the man sleeping in his arms and wonders how he ever got so lucky, and he wants to pinch himself. Not that he honestly thinks it could be a dream, because not even his subconscious could come up with someone as perfectly imperfect, as flawed and wonderful and real as Steve Harrington.

Eddie was a romantic at heart, always had been. His heart soared at the thought of Arwen forfeiting her immortality to die by Aragorn's side, and he cried when Roland Deschain lost his Susan to villagers' small-mindedness and hatred.

So it's quite a paradox that he never believed in love. At least not outside the stories he devoured all his life. For they are stories created by yearning minds and hearts, just like his own, but real life? Real life is messy and cruel and so devastatingly unfair that it is impossible for him to believe that true love exists in such a world.

He has certainly never experienced it himself, never really seen it. His parents hated each other even more than they hated him, and his uncle was always alone. His friends dated and had relationships here and there, but none of them ever looked like true love to him, just convenience and the fear of being alone. That's how he approached love back then. In and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit, as Brian Kinney used to say. He fucked around, he dated, he had a few boyfriends. They had fun, and it was nice while it lasted, but eventually he got bored and tired of them, or they decided he was too weird, too loud, too much, and left. C'est la vie.

Meeting Steve changed all that, and if he could, he'd go back in time and tell his younger self: "One day you'll meet a man who is so different from everyone else that you'll want to run away from him as soon as you realize it. He will frighten you with how much you want him, need him, love him. So you stupid piece of shit will do just that, you'll run away, because that's what you do, right? You run when things get real and they always let you run. But not him, oh no. He'll see through your bullshit and he'll stick it out. He will forgive you so much and you better spend the rest of your life making it up to him. So buckle up, buttercup, because your life is about to be turned upside down."

It hasn't been all rainbows and roses, far from it. But they make it work, every day anew. It's easy, with Steve. Easy to apologize, easy to forgive, easy to fall back into each other's arms and make up after a fight.

Life with Steve is easy and familiar and yet the most exciting thing he's ever done.

He knows how Steve likes his coffee, his toast, his steak. He knows his morning routine, his bed routine, and how important routines are to him. He knows Steve's favorite color (yellow), his favorite movie (Top Gun), even his favorite day of the week (Saturday because it meant he could sleep in, stay up late, and have another day off). He knows that Steve hates changing the sheets but loves sleeping in a freshly made bed, so he makes sure to change their sheets almost every week, always on Monday, Steve's least favorite day of the week, so he has something to look forward to on those days.

Their sex life is also something familiar by now, and Eddie always thought he'd find that boring as hell, never expected to revel in the familiarity of another body, but knowing how to play Steve's body even more expertly than his guitar makes him burn with pride and heat in equal measure. He knows how to get Steve off in under five minutes if they're in a hurry, knows how to hold off his climax just as well, knows exactly how to keep him on the edge for what feels like hours until he's a quivering mess in Eddie's arms, sobbing and begging to come. He knows how to fuck Steve just right, hard and deep, dancing the fine line of too much like an aerial acrobat, but he also knows how to make love to him, soft, gentle thrusts and kisses all over every inch of skin he can reach, drawing constellations between the moles that dot his body and whispering sweet nothings in Steve's ear until their orgasms sneak up on them like thieves in the night.

As Eddie looks down at Steve's peaceful face and listens to the snuffling sounds that he makes every now and then, he thinks that this is exactly how he wants to spend the rest of his life.

"I can hear you thinking," Steve's sleepy voice says, and Eddie smiles down at him, waiting for his beautiful hazel eyes to open and look at him with the same wondrous love Eddie feels every time he looks at Steve. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Steve's temple.

"Sorry love, did my loud thoughts wake you?"

"Mh-mh," is all he gets in return. That and the press of Steve's open mouth against the soft inside of his forearm, the uncoordinated effort of a kiss so endearing that Eddie's next words fall from his mouth without any thought.

"Marry me."

Steve's eyes finally open, and they are full of wonder and love, but there is also that small, adorable crease between his eyebrows that always appears when he's not sure if he's understood something correctly, but doesn't want to ask.

Eddie presses a soft, lingering kiss against it. Presses another to the tip of Steve's nose and another to his slack lips before he leans back and catches Steve's eyes and holds them.

"Marry me, Steve."

The crease between his eyebrows is gone, replaced by the sweet crinkles around Steve's eyes when he smiles more with his eyes than his mouth. His I love you smile, as Eddie has dubbed it.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Yeah, me neither, but that was before I met you."

[queerdiazs]

Eddie’s alive, just stuck in the Upside Down, but he doesn’t go to Dustin or Mike or Lucas—oh, no. And not even Steve, either, no matter how much he respects the dude.

Nah, Eddie traverses the woods of the Upside Down, knows where that old beat up truck sits that he and Wayne found a few months ago during season that they fixed up with the blessing of the landowner, and waits for his uncle there. 

Eddie’s trailer is fucked and he knows Wayne doesn’t have the money to afford a hotel room, so he sits in that truck in the woods, shivering and bleeding and singing songs to keep himself awake, and waits until Wayne turns it on.

And when he does in a few hours, Springsteen’s faintly heard and Eddie laughs because he loves his uncle, adores the man and he wishes he told him more of that when he had the chance, but he’s determined he’ll have more time later, he just has to get out of this hellish place first, and so he starts talking. 

It startles Wayne at first, swears and yells flying, and then there’s tears shared between them, so close and yet so far apart. Eddie explains what he can, pressing his hands into his wounds in hopes of slowing the bleeding, and he tells Wayne to hurry with an aborted, “I love you.” 

Wayne hurries. He fishes his rifle out from beneath his seat and thinks—about the kids who joined Eddie's club, about the band kid and the kid with the questions and the other kid, too, with soft brown eyes and a sad smile when he ducked his head in acknowledgment—and takes off. 

He finds Harrington’s house, knocks on the door until the kid comes running. He slings it wide, revealing himself and the band kid and Henderson, Wayne thinks, who's momma is sweet and kind at the diner, and says, “My nephew is alive. Let’s go get him.”

And he didn’t know what he expected from this kid—if he thought he’d get directions or what—but he’s surprised when Harrington nods, slips on some shoes, and follows him outside to his truck where Eddie's voice is still coming through the radio. 

Harrington says hi, a broken sort of thing, and promises they’re on the way, for him to just stay where he’s at, and Eddie giggles, says, “My knight in shining armor,” because he's always been romantic, and Harrington goes red and says, “Goddamn right I am,” and Wayne listens to Eddie's laughter the whole way to the portal that takes them to the other world. 

It's dark and ugly and dead, but they find Eddie fast. He’s bleeding out, blubbering as soon as he sees Wayne and Steve—“Call me Steve, please.”—and it takes both of them to carry Eddie up and out of that shithole dimension. 

They take him to the hospital, Eddie resting in Steve's arms the whole way, and as soon as Eddie's taken back and stabilized, Wayne and Steve collapse in the hallway. They’re quiet when they do it, but Steve's tears are hot and Wayne’s grip is tight and they hold one another close. They ask a nurse for an extra bed in Eddie's room; she’s reluctant but she does it anyway when Steve asks nicely. 

Wayne and Steve camp Eddie's room as he rests, talking quietly and getting to know one another better and sharing stories of Eddie. soon, Wayne passes out in the recliner—helps his back if he sleeps upright since those discs have been deteriorating—and wakes up a few hours later to see the extra bed unused.

Steve’s crawled up into Eddie's bed with him, nestled close and tight, and they’re both awake, faces turned toward one another as they giggle and whisper and chuckle, but Wayne can’t hear them and he thinks that’s okay. 

He rests some more, content to listen to the soft sounds of his boys—his boys, ‘cause Harrington is his now; a decision he made when he saw the darkness in the kid's eyes that reminds him so much of his own shit—lull him to sleep. 

That is, until one Dustin Henderson hears the news that Eddie's alive and safe and recovering. He causes a ruckus and a half, and the hospital staff is in shambles, and Wayne laughs because he might just have to make Dustin one of his own, too.

[hairstevington]

Hi! I would love to see the 1st Valentine’s Day prompt(a bouquet of their favourite flowers) for steddie! Specifically Eddie bringing Steve flowers(idk why but I’m a firm believer that Steve secretly loves getting gifted flowers lol!). If you do do this thank you so much!! <3333

Ahhhhhh yes LET’S GOOOO!!! Thanks for the request! (Ao3 link here!)

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Some reeeeal fluffy shit, Eddie secretly pining over his best friend Steve, gay scheming, romance

A/N: This ended up being a bit more than just flowers, but hopefully it suffices! If anyone else is interested here is the prompt post, I also took inspiration from this cute lil post by @grandwretch :)

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Eddie always teased Steve about his romantic conquests. They frequently discussed best practices for him to woo women - including knowing their favorite color, their birthday, their favorite movie, etc. Eddie watched Steve date beautiful woman after beautiful woman, always putting in so much effort and getting so little back.

That's probably why Eddie started doing it.

"Should I get her the blue bracelet or the green one?" Steve would ask.

"I dunno man, what's her favorite color?"

"Blue. But her eyes are green."

"Get the blue. The two colors look good together anyway," Eddie answered as if he was somehow the person to ask about such things. He'd never really dated anyone, but he'd seen a lot of movies, and watched a lot of high school couples date each other.

"Thanks," Steve would say. He was always appreciative for the second opinion, even though the opinion was based on nothing.

"No problem," Eddie smiled. "Hey, what's your favorite color?"

Any time Steve asked for advice, Eddie would eventually turn it back on Steve. It was all part of his master plan, you see - he wanted to make Steve feel special on Valentine's Day. Not in a gay way, he told himself. Steve's my friend, it's not like that.

He tried to convince himself he was doing it platonically, or because it would be funny to see Steve all flustered, but deep down Eddie knew that it was far more than that.

But him and Steve were friends, and that's all they'd ever be, and he'd accepted that.

A week before Valentine's Day, there was a package on Steve's doorstep addressed to him. He wasn't expecting any mail, and the box was so haphazardly wrapped it was almost scary. Like, he was pretty sure he'd seen this exact set-up in a horror movie. Main character gets mysterious package that ends up ruining their life.

(It didn't end up ruining his life, but it sure as hell changed it)

Inside the box was a teddy bear - one of those real cutesie ones you find at a giftshop this time of year. Steve was confused, and wondered if it was even delivered to the right place - sure enough, there was a handwritten note that confirmed it. I call him Steve Bearington, it read. Steve smiled, but still had no idea who it was from. The girl that he'd gone on a few dates with could never have been responsible for the disastrous way the gift was wrapped. He shrugged. It must have been a secret admirer - he got those sometimes.

He told Eddie about it the next day, and Eddie pretended to act surprised. He didn't want to give his secret away, especially when he went so far as to ask some random person to write out the stupid note so that Steve wouldn't recognize his handwriting. He probably should have asked them to wrap it, too, but whatever. Steve was so happy about it, so Eddie continued with his plan.

Eddie learned that Steve liked sour candy over chocolate, so he got him some. Then he wrote him a poem - it wasn't, like, the greatest thing ever written, but Eddie did tend to have a way with words. He delivered the candy two days before Valentine's Day, and on the eve of the holiday he had one of his other friends discreetly stick the poem on Steve's front door and ding-dong-ditch while he and Eddie were hanging out, just to throw him off his game even more.

"Oh my god, they did it again," Steve said when he picked the poem from the door. "Who is this person?" Eddie appreciated that he said person, instead of woman.

"What does it say?" Eddie asked, biting his lip to keep from grinning. He watched as Steve read it to himself first, his brow furrowing.

"It's, uh," he said, folding it nicely and putting it in his pocket. "It's good."

Hell yeah it is, Eddie thought to himself.

Steve had a date on Valentine's Day - Eddie knew this, and it was to be expected anyway, since Steve almost always had a date on most days. He was leaving at 7, so Eddie showed up at 6.

-----------------------------------------------------

Steve didn't have much more to do to get ready for the date - he was already having a good hair day, and he'd picked out an outfit that had done him well in the past. He just was still caught up on who wrote him that poem.

Nobody had written him a poem before, like ever. Steve hadn't ever attempted to write one for anyone else. He wasn't that good at analyzing them in English class, so he'd grown a bit tired of poetry as a whole.

But the one left on his front door sparked a new appreciation for it.

He was confused when the doorbell rang, because he wasn't expecting anybody. Then, he wondered if maybe, he'd find another poem out there.

Instead, he found Eddie. Well, actually, he found a person standing there with flowers covering their face, but the mane of curly brown hair surrounding the flowers gave him away.

They were daisies. Eddie was probably the only person in the world that knew Steve liked daisies, and it wasn't even something he'd explicitly said. He just knew he was drawn to them when he saw them, and he'd pointed them out a few times while he was with Eddie.

"Special Valentine's delivery for Harrington!" Eddie announced, letting himself in. Steve watched as he set them on the table, confident as always, a bright smile on his face. But Steve was mostly just confused.

"What...the hell?" Eddie's bravado faltered just a little bit.

"Hasn't anyone ever gotten you flowers before?" Eddie asked.

"No, but I've bought a lot of flowers before, and -"

"Tsk tsk tsk," Eddie interrupted. "My point exactly. You deserve flowers too, Steve."

"God, what's with all the gifts from people this week?" Steve whined, completely overwhelmed. "Between this and the secret admirer thing, I just -"

Steve's head was spinning, and he wasn't the most observant person, but he did have enough sense to notice the way Eddie winced at the mention of the secret admirer.

"Yeah, well," Eddie said, his tone softer than before. "Like I said, you deserve it."

There was a thick silence as Steve realized what was happening.

"Eddie..." he said, putting it all together. Eddie was the only one who would have known to get him any of that stuff. Steve openly told Eddie all kinds of things he never admitted to anyone else, because he didn't think Eddie was paying attention. He certainly didn't think Eddie had been filing it away to do this.

"I hope you have a good date tonight," Eddie said, suddenly feeling quite stupid about this whole thing. He turned to leave, but Steve stopped him.

"The poem - you wrote it?" Eddie nodded.

Steve thought about straight-up reciting it to Eddie in that moment, to prove to him just how much he liked it. He'd read it so many times it was burned into his brain, just as he wanted it to be.

Huh.

He wasn't expecting this from his best friend, but he was shocked at how weird it didn't feel. Finding out Eddie had been his secret admirer just made sense.

"Doesn't have to be a big deal," Eddie mumbled. "I just - I don't want this to - Like, I'm sorry if -"

"I gotta go cancel my plans with Deb," Steve said.

"What?"

"She'll live. Besides, it wouldn't be that cool of me to go out with someone when I'm thinking about someone else."

"What?" Eddie repeated. He really didn't expect to get this far. "What are you saying?"

Steve smiled - his brilliant, trademark smile that always made Eddie feel warm inside.

"Do you wanna be my Valentine, Munson?"

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

[alchemistc]

Eddie practices his arguments with Steve.

The thing is -

Here's the thing. It's not that he's expecting an argument. So far every time either one of them have been irritated with one another, or pissed off about something, they usually just, like, talk about it and shit. Healthy-like, which is -

Totally fucking weird for Eddie My-Parents-Fought-As-A-Love-Language Munson and Steve Still-Figuring-Out-Its-Okay-To-Be-Loved Harrington. It's weird, it is, and Eddie can't help but wonder if Steve is just bottling shit up until it explodes out of him and he realizes that this thing they're doing just isn't worth it anymore.

So.

So Steve does this thing, right?

This thing where he rolls his jaw and sometimes it pops and it makes Eddie want to stick a curly straw up his nose and scramble his own brains. And he's such a fucking neat freak that every time he's over, he ends up rearranging Eddie's room - not even in purpose, just. He likes to touch things, and Eddie gets it, he does, but touching things usually leads to picking things up leads to setting them back down and before Eddie's had time to look up, Steve has swept empty beer cans into the trash and lined up Eddie's models in a neat row like they're troops readying for battle and since he's like a war buff they're always lined up like a little battalion which is cute but also frustrating as hell because - because Eddie's chaos is organized and now he can't find his fucking lyric journal with the song he's very much not ready for people to see, or know about, or -

The point. The point is Eddie has been gearing up to talk to Steve about it for three days now and he's now at the stage where he practices. Works out the scenarios, muddles through possibilities, tries to anticipate every way it could go tits up.

He's never - Steve is most of his firsts, and he knows it's dumb and romantic but he'd like Steve to be all of his lasts, too, and so what if that means he's pacing the length of the trailer (all the while perfecting his Steve-voicr, which has been a tough one to nail but he feels like he's getting there. He's smarter and more eloquent than he lets on, is Steve.) and arguing with himself. Resetting, back to the start, working through a disastrous turn where Steve accuses Eddie of cheating on him (nope, reset, Steve's well aware Eddie wouldn't, cut that from the options).

"And seriously, Eddie, how could you think I'd do that shit to you, you know -."

"What the hell?"

Eddie whirls.

Mike Wheeler is standing in his living room, staring at Eddie like he's grown a second head. Which. Shit. They haven't actually, like, told anyone that they're...doing whatever it is they're doing (There's things Eddie wants to call it, but he hasn't brought them up yet because they're terrifying and super fucking telling and even though he's pretty sure he and Steve are on the same page he doesn't want to presume) so the kids don't know. No one except Robin knows, and she's states away and busy so.

"What the hell right back, Wheeler, what are you doing here?"

"I left my chem textbook here last night. You said I could come get it."

And - sure, he definitely had, but he'd sort of been staring at the hollow where Steve's neck and shoulder met and imagining biting it when he said it, so -

"So you broke into my house?"

"The door was unlocked."

"So you walked uninvited INTO MY HOUSE?" And he's maybe hamming up the annoyance as cover, but Wheeler just stares at him.

"Are you practicing breaking up with Steve?" Wheeler asks without preamble, with zero inflection, not even a quirk of his brow, and Eddie -

Flounders, is a generous term for it. Really what he does is shriek, and cackle, and then cover it up with the weirdest laugh either of them have ever heard which covers nothing at all. "What are - why would you - what makes you think - listen, Michael, you can't just break into people's homes and accuse them of - of - what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Of having really terrible taste in men, Eddie, where's my textbook?"

"I don't fucking know, Wheeler, Steve rearranges shit all the time so who the hell knows where he would have -."

"It's probably on the bookshelf, then," Mike says, and then squints. "Are you...practicing arguing with Steve?"

"How do you even -?"

"Neither one of you is subtle."

"Shut up, Wheeler."

"If that's how you talk to Steve it's no wonder you have to practice your arguments."

"I'm not - you're infuriating."

Mike squares him with a look that reminds Eddie of when he's calculating hit points and strategizing his next move. He frowns. Sighs. "I have like ten minutes before I have to leave. Steve doesn't think you're cheating on him, so let's start from the top."

---

"The kids know," Eddie tells Steve, fingers shifting in Steve's hair, and Steve's lashes flash as he looks up from Eddie's lap. Mike had been - well, Wheeler might be half a decade younger but he'd been pretty instrumental in helping Eddie nail down the right approach to "Please stop cleaning up my messes you're ruining everything." so another non-argument is in the books, and Steve had looked confused about it but he'd agreed to try not to move shit around at least.

("I'm still cleaning up all the trash, though, you live like a goblin."

"It's hot that you know what a goblin is, baby."

"Nerd.")

"Are you...okay with that?"

"Are you?"

"I asked first."

It's not that he doesn't want to answer, it's just.

Okay he doesn't want to answer. Jesus Christ, he'd used Mike goddamn Wheeler as his Steve stand in to practice an argument that hadn't happened and he's still scared to call Steve his -

"I... don't really know. What to tell them." And that's - shit, not what he meant to say, Jesus.

"What do you mean?"

Steve crinkles his nose, and Eddie hates how goddamn cute it is, because he really wants to just, like, boop the tip of it and then suck Steve off but -

Where's Mike Wheeler when he needs him?

("If you ever tell Steve about this I'll tell Will to TPK your party for the next ten campaigns."

"Why would I tell Steve I'm helping you save your relationship?"

"Brownie points. So you can hold it over Henderson's head. Blackmail."

"I used to be terrified of you, but you're actually super lame, honestly."

"Preaching to the choir, my friend.")

"I mean, what...what do we tell them we...are?"

"Are you freaking out about calling me your boyfriend?"

"...no."

He shifts, and Eddie's fingers slip through the strands of Steve's hair as he shuffles, scoots, sits up and twists to face Eddie.

"I am, right? I mean...you want me to be?"

Eddie hasn't practiced this conversation, because - because it's presumptuous, because it felt sort of like jinxing it, because -

"Yeah. Duh. Of course I - shit. Yeah. Yes."

Steve's smile is bright and a little knowing. "I have a confession."

"I'm not sure I want to hear it."

"Trust me, you want to."

"Okay fine," Eddie tells him, eyes on Steve's hand as he slots their fingers together. Eddie hooks his pinkie along the edge of Steve's sleeve. "Twist my arm, why don't you?"

"I'm actually kind of glad they already know. I've been trying to figure out how to tell them for a while. I've been, like - creating scenarios in my head to try to figure out how they're going to take it."

There's - okay, so Eddie's thinking a lot of things, right at this moment, like how Steve apparently also creates mind-scenarios to play out before a situation happens, and how they might want to test out their creativity in other areas, actually, and that derails his whole train of thought for a moment, but "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you been trying to figure out how to tell them?"

Eddie's not insecure, exactly, but he is a big fan of knowing what people he cares about think of him and how often they think of him and -

"I mean, since, like, the first time I kissed you?"

Eddie is stupid crazy about Steve Harrington. He's fully fucking feral for this man, honestly, it's dumb. Absolutely ridiculous.

"I'm in love with you," Eddie tells him, and the tips of Steve's ears are pink.

"I know," he says, with a smarmy little grin because Eddie had admitted (under duress, and screw anyone who doesn't think a naked Steve Harrington in your lap is duress) he'd been obsessed with Harrison Ford for like a full year in his tweens, and Steve takes every opportunity to remind Eddie he knows.

"I'd also very much like to circle back to you creating scripts in your mind about telling the kids about us."

"Henderson's always a nightmare, I swear to god."

"We gotta teach him some humility."

"He respects you more than he respects me, you teach him."

"You gonna say it back?"

"Well not now," Steve says, and Eddie wants to bite him.

---

"I love you," Steve says, while Dustin and Mike and Max argue about who knew first.

Eddie hasn't practiced this one. "I know," he says, and Steve's brow quirks when Dustin catches the exchange and groans.

[hartly-being]

Thoughts on Eddie Diaz at the moment

Was reblogging a cool long post and decided I make my own one to add some stuff I've been spinning around in my head like a plate in a microwave.

With Eddie being gay it shouldn't be about throwing in another queer storyline for good rep and attention. Well, no shit, we know that, but let me eleborate a little. It's not really about starting something new, unlocking a different world he's been ignoring and realising he loves men. It's about him understanding why his relationships with women were like that, why he couldn't find stable happiness in life up to this point no matter how hard he tried and how much discomfort it put him through.

I personally don't even want to see him date or go out with men. Hell, he might never even get together with Buck, not romantically nor sexually. But what matters to me is him rediscovering himself and healing from the trauma and the repression he's been under all these years. And him being gay isn't a great resolution to this because yay another queer firefighter character, how cool is that? but because it makes sense. There is something. Something hidden, something shoved away deep deep down. And we know for a fact that that something is constantly pulling him away from the relationships where he's searching for the sacred comfort, reliability and love. From his relationships with women. This man pushes himself so far for so long sometimes his girlfriends and Christopher have time to start feeling like a family, and when the discussion comes to making it more long-term and maybe even official, he panics (quite literally) and backs away so hard he bumps and smashes into everything on his way and either ends up at the cardiologist's or fucks it up so bad Christopher flees the fucking state of California.

Also, a bit off the track of thoughts here, Eddie needs to see what he has already found too. That, of course, includes Buck. And I ain't pushing any buddie agenda here. I can see it as platonic, or queerplatonic, if you like. The point stands, he has a close person who maybe wasn't always there, but wants to be. Someone Eddie can rely on (and feel comfortable with when he's walking around in his undies), and someone who can rely on him (and appear late at night on his doorstep sporting a cold, drained of any emotions whatsoever look on his face after one of the most painful and sudden break-ups of his life, no matter what my personal thoughts on that thing are). I want more of that shit one way or another. Kchm.

So yeah, Eddie Diaz being gay wouldn't be just a random addition to his character and the show. It wouldn't be the "last piece of a puzzle that made it all finally click together so we can see the big picture" either. What it would be is the explanation to why something that initially looked like a regular picture to hang on the wall turned out to be a fucking puzzle in the first place.

And I'm not, by any means, referring to Eddie's story as a "puzzle" as an insult. I love his story. I'm not even sure it's a right metaphor here. But I think it's how he might have felt at some point recently. I don't mean felt like he's a puzzle, (Never call people a puzzle as if they need to be solved btw, it can be harmful af), but that things could have been and still can be easier. That it's not his fault, and that there may be a reason. After all the years, he can see the reason and work with it, not push himself down for nothing.

The frustration upon realising that there might have been a pattern throughout your whole life, and that you might've been playing a part in making yourself feel lower by punishing and denying yourself something good, is a heavy feeling. And Eddie has sort of come out of the darkness of that Narnia. Now let's see if the closet is still standing.

I'm tired. I don't know if I make sense here. If you made it this far... well, thank you. Enjoy your day, or night. Don't get in any unnecessary fights within the fandom, and ffs don't send death threats and wishes to any fucking people what's up with that guys? Going parasocial with actors again? Really?

[megamindsupremacy]

Misc Marvel Fic Recs (part 7)

ghosts in the machine by hollimichele

History, Peggy has learned, never tells the whole story.

-

romantic tomography by pigeonstatueconundrum

Remaining neutral about Eddie Brock was much easier in principle when he’s the unseen ex of your girlfriend, a little harder in practise when you’ve helped him through the worst week of his life.

“Pay up.” Anne flops down next to him on the couch two months later. They’re still fishing bits of the Life Foundation Rocket out of the Pacific, but no evil or chaotic neutral ex-terrestrial goo has been recovered. Supposedly.

Dan fishes the promised $20 out of his wallet, “He finally told you.”

Dr Dan Lewis would like to stop feeling like the third billed in the romantic comedy that is his life.

-

call every girl we ever met maria by irnan

"You're telling me," Rhodey said, gleeful, "you're telling me that you've been shot, stabbed, sewn up, been riddled with shrapnel, had a magnet implanted in your chest, spent two years poisoning yourself with palladium, spent twenty years as a functioning alcoholic and had a vasectomy and you still managed to knock Pepper up?"

-

decoys by littlerhymes

The serum makes Steve stronger, but not bigger. Instead of a superhero, he becomes a spy.

-

Respectibility, Politics by brawltogethernow

Per the prompt, "the Spider-Man fic where anti-mutant bigots think JJ is one of them because of how he is about Spider-Man and he experiences no personal insight whatsoever in reaction to this but is so offended he dedicates the front cover of the Bugle to spotlighting the X-Men for like three days straight and Peter is keysmash feelings".

-

Blips on the Record by ambivalentangst

Flash, let it be known, doesn’t like Peter. He’s too good at everything—infuriatingly so—and nobody ever calls him on his bullshit, like with AcaDec nationals. Flash has to put his all into everything he does for a fraction of the attention Peter gets for his bare minimum, and it pisses him off, to say the least, so sue him for looking for chances here and there to knock him down a peg.

However, when he notices, he shuts his entire operation down.

Maybe Peter has a decade on his age when he was in the thick of it, but Flash remembers what it was like. He gets having school be a safe place, and nobody, not even himself, is going to jeopardize that for Peter.

//

Flash Thompson’s story is not simple, Peter Parker can always use someone else in his corner, and secrets are had and protected by all.

-

Far Out by Bergen

It all started the way it usually did; with Tony doubting his own sanity. “Happy,” he said, turning the paper over, then turning it back, squinting at it. “What the hell is this?” Happy barely glanced up from his phone. “How should I know? I just drive you around, I don’t try to understand your designs. You’re the one who left it in the back of the car yesterday.” Tony turned the paper towards Happy, tapping a finger against the scribbles in the margin. “I didn’t write that. I thought it, but I didn’t write it. What sorcery is this?” “Oh shit, sorry,” Happy said, expression resigned. “I’m guessing the kid went through them when I drove him to school this morning. He has no regard for personal boundaries.” “The kid.” “Um— My girlfriend, she has a—“ “Your stepson did these calculations?” “That’s not entirely—“ “Bring him to me,” Tony commanded.

-

Where the Need is Greatest by Niitza

In which Steve Rogers takes one look at the history of American military interventions since the end of World War II and nopes straight out of it, follows in his Ma's footsteps to become a paramedic, joins Doctors Without Borders, gets sent on an unsanctioned humanitarian mission to Syria, and somehow still ends up being a determining factor in Hydra's downfall - all of this without throwing a single punch.

Somehow, he's okay with it.

-

If you wanna be my lover (you gotta get with my friends) by mindshelter

MJ still remembers Ned’s initial disbelief when Peter—infamous for missing class back in sophomore year, suspended for two weeks freshman year—finished his bit of the group write-up four days early. The work was perfect, and so was Ned's chemistry grade. After that it was Peter this, Peter that, Peter parted the Red Sea, it’s true, MJ, I was there; I saw it. MJ, hey, are you listening?

Then Ned says, “We should invite Peter to join AcaDec.”

or;

peter isn’t rock bottom on midtown’s social ladder; he’s underground. friendless, rumoured to get into street fights. ned declares him bestie material anyway, and mj catches feelings.

she also meets tony stark(?) in foodtown, of all places, and makes a spider-man(??) sighting.

-

Cannon Fodder by KieraSayre

During the war, Steve and Bucky get stuck with press duty. Sometimes reporters are racist assholes. The Howling Commandos decide to take this as an opportunity to get creative.

-

you had your soul with you by napricot

Three timelines and a Reverse Time Heist.