#Grumpy!eddie munson | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lesservillain · 9 days ago

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summary: a new face enters your life and you're blissfully unaware of the impact it will have on you.

cw: sunshine!eddie x grumpy!reader, like really grumpy, some angst

wc: 6.2k

Muffled voices penetrate through your bedroom door. Standing on the other side, you have your ear pressed to the wood to try and make out the cutting words coming from the other side. It was a fruitless effort, but you tried all the same.

“I just can’t do this anymore, Tony.” Your mother’s voice sounds closer and you dare to crack the door open a bit. Just enough that you can see her walking from the kitchen to the front door from the second floor, a suitcase in her hand. Opening the door further, you peer out into the hallway, taking a few steps until you reach the top of the stairs.

“Please, Rebecca, just talk to me!” Your dad’s voice sounds hoarse, cracking with the weight of his sorrow. “Just tell me what I can do to fix this!”

“There’s nothing to fix. I have to move on, and I can’t do that trapped here.”

“Mom?”

Their heads snap in your direction. You didn’t know what was going on, your 8 year old mind too young to understand what was transpiring in front of you. All you knew was your dad was fully crying, something you’d never seen him do before.

Your mother looks at you, taking in a deep breath before shaking her head. She takes the bag in her hands and suddenly opens the front door. Light floods the house from a car that you don’t recognize parked in your driveway. Everything is still for a moment. Your mom turns to look at you one last time before wordlessly pushing open the storm door and exiting into the night.

“Rebecca!” Your dad yells out, rushing out the door behind her. You make a run down the stairs and stop at the door, watching through the glass as your dad follows your mom around the car. She lifts open the trunk and puts the suitcase inside, your dad frantically pleading with her as she does. But her face is unmoving, solid as stone as she rounds the car again and enters the passenger seat of the unknown vehicle.

Your dad bangs on the door, last ditch effort to make your mom change her mind. Hot tears rolled down your own cheeks as the reality of the situation dawned on you. Your mom was leaving.

And she wasn’t coming back.

Soft sounds of the radio from the office behind you filled your work space with a slight irritation. You wished that your dad would at least change the station to something other than country, even if it was just to break up the monotony. The thought of closing his office door crossed your mind, but you knew he would just protest and open it back up again.

Huffing out a sigh, your eyes scan your list of things to do today. You still needed to call about some parts that were going to be delivered to try and get an estimate on time, but the guy that answered the phone for the company was always a dick to you so you were putting that off. The break room needed to be cleaned, but that was something that you would save for the end of the shift. Going down the list you noticed where it was written that an interview was supposed to have come in at 11. You tilt your head looking at the clock to see that it’s a quarter til 1 and no one has shown up, so decide to scratch that off your list. A real shame too, since you guys were in need of the help.

The ring of the door bell catches your attention. Looking up from your paper, your eyes land on a young man, probably around your age, walking into the lobby. He’s dressed in a black button down shirt and nice slacks that sharply contrasted with the leather and denim jacket combo he was sporting. From what you can tell he has long locks that are currently pulled back into a low ponytail behind his head. His dress shoes clacked against the linoleum floor as he approached you at the desk.

“Welcome to Hawkins Auto Body, how can I help you?” You ask in your best customer service voice.

“Yeah, hi, I’m Eddie. I have an interview at 1 with Tony.” The smell of his cheap cologne permeates your senses and elicits the start of a migraine behind your eye. Looking back down at your list you don’t see another interview for 1 o’clock, just the one that was for 11 that you had crossed out.

“I don’t have an interview for that time. We were supposed to have one at 11 am. Could that have been when you were supposed to show?”

Eddie shifts in his spot as he straightens up. His brows furrow, eyes darting around as if he was looking for the answer to your question. His hands start to pat the pockets of his jacket, reaching inside and pulling out a small ripped piece of paper. “I had 1 written down on the paper.” There’s a slight panic in his voice. “Maybe I made a mistake, I know I’m at the right place.”

“Well, unfortunately the boss is very busy today, so he won’t be able to see you.” You were lying, knowing your dad he was probably reading a muscle car magazine as his desk. But the lack of showing up on time wasn’t something you were going to look past. If he couldn’t even show up for his interview on time how could you expect him to show up to work.

“Really? Are you sure? Maybe I could reschedule at a later time--”

“Hey, what’s going on out here?” You dad’s chipper voice called from behind you, making you cringe.

“Hey, Tony,” you say, preferring to refer to your dad by his name while at work, “I think this guy was your 11 o’clock. He wrote down the time wrong and--”

“Oh, hey! Eddie, right?” Your dad asks, stepping out of his office with a hand out and ready. Eddie takes your dad’s hand in his and shakes it enthusiastically.

“Yes, listen, I’m so sorry I got the times mixed up. If you need to I would totally be able to reschedule for another day.”

“No, you’re fine,” your dad says, irking you. “Come on back and we can talk. Do you have your resume?”

“Oh, I left if out in my car. Let me go grab it.” Eddie says, taking a step back before running out the door. Can’t even bring in his resume? There’s no way this guy would get the job if it was you in charge.

But you knew your dad was a different story. He has a soft spot in him that you gave up a long time ago. But you had to develop a tough exterior at such a young age that you didn’t know anything else.

“You should have turned him away,” you said as you watched Eddie through the glass doors. Your dad huffed a laugh and leaned against the office door frame.

“I knew you’d say something like that,” he says shaking his head.

“Tony, he’s a total chump. Couldn’t be bothered to show up on time. Isn’t even ready for the interview. I bet those aren’t even his clothes that he’s wearing.”

“Yeah, but he’s young and willing to work. Gareth told me that he’s been working on cars since he was 12, and he has reliable transportation.”

You look at the hunk of metal that was this guys van and scoffed. “That hardly looks reliable.”

“But it works,” you dad said, nodding to the ancient van, “And that shows he knows what he’s doing.”

“You’ve already decided to hire him, haven’t you?”

“Well, lets see how this interview goes and I’ll let you know.” You roll your eyes. Knowing how your dad is he probably made the decision when he had the phone interview with him. A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you watch as Eddie bounds back through the door with a papers in his hand.

“Sorry it’s not much,” he says as he hands the papers to your dad. “This will be my first real job, so I don’t have much experience.”

Great, another tick off your list as to why you would turn this guy down. Even if he had some experience with cars, it surely wasn’t enough that your dad wouldn’t still have to train him. At least the shop did well enough that your dad wouldn’t be hurting if he had to pay this guy while he’s being trained.

“Not to worry, let’s go talk in my office,” your dad says, patting Eddie on the arm and leading the way inside. He closes the door behind you, and you can hear the sound of the radio start to lower until it can’t be heard anymore. At least you’d get a little reprieve from that.

The clock ticked by during the interview. Only the sound of the shop could be heard through the glass paneling that separated you from the bay. After about 30 minutes of nothing from your dad, you start to wonder what the hell they could be talking about that’s taking so long. If you had to guess, it was probably car talk.

Or if you were to make a guess based on the details Eddie’s jacket maybe he got your dad on the topic of music, which he could go on about forever. He’s seen just about every band he’s ever wanted to see and then some. You’d been to a fair share of your own concerts because of him, whether it was due to a lack of babysitter or because he wanted to genuinely share the experience with you didn’t matter. It was still some of the best times of your life getting to share those sweaty moments that left your voice fried the next day with him.

A loud, boisterous laugh came from the office and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Your dad must have told one of his infamous jokes that always left him on the brink of pissing himself. You wondered if Eddie was genuinely laughing or was doing it out of pity for your dad and the sake of getting the job. Either way, you shuffled a stack of part invoices and stood up from your desk.

Approaching the door, you didn’t even bother to knock as you turned the nob, pushing the door open on the little laughing fit the two of them were having. “Having fun in here?” you say dryly, unamused by them. Eddie turns to look at you, wiping at his eyes as he lets of the last bit of chuckles left in him. Your dad straightens up in his chair to catch his breath before turning more towards you.

“What’s up, sweetie?” He says through giggles. Calling you by that name in front of a stranger must mean your dad was really in a relaxed mood. He wasn’t always the most professional, but you made it very clear with him from day one that you wanted to be treated just like any other employee at the shop while working together. It kind of irked you that he would say it in front of anyone, but especially this guy, who was looking at you like he already owned the joint.

“Sir, you have some invoices here that need to be approved by the end of the day. Assuming this interview is almost over,” you said looking at Eddie, “I figured I’d drop these off to you so you could get started on them. I’d like to file them by 5.”

Your dad leaned over the desk, his hand outstretched to take them from you. You sighed, stepping more into the small office and leaning around Eddie to hand them over to him. You felt his shoulder against your side and you let out a half-hearted sorry for the intrusion into his space.

“‘S’all good,” he said softly, a small smile on his face that annoyed you.

“I’ll get to these right away,” your dad said, motioning the papers towards you. You nodded and turned to leave the room.

“Should I close the door?” You ask, hand on the knob.

“No, no, I think Eddie and I are just about done here. I’ve kept him with me for far too long,” your father says as he goes to stand. Eddie rises from his seat as well, extending his hand out for your dad to take.

“Nonsense,” Eddie says as your dad shakes his hand, “Was a pleasure talking to ya. Hopefully we can shoot the shit again some time?”

“Maybe we can get a few words in on Monday if that works for you?”

“Wait, really?” Eddie all but jumps for joy at your dad’s offer. Of course.

“If everything we talked about today sounded good for you, I’d love to see ya first thing Monday morning.”

“Oh my god, yes, sir. Thank you so much. Seriously, I’ll be the best worker you’ve ever had.”

You huffed a laugh at that, deciding this was the best time to make your exit, lest you get sick on the floor from all the sugary excitement. Turning on your heel, you made your way back to your desk and plopped down in your rolly chair. Your dad and Eddie followed behind you not long after, still chatting about something you had no interest in tuning into.

Eddie rounds the front of your desk and taps his hand lightly on the marble counter top just above you. You look up at him with a blank stare, almost blinding you with the pure sunshine rays of excitement that were beaming off of him.

“See ya on Monday, coworker,” he said with a snap that turned into a finger gun. You didn’t respond, simply staring at him hoping he would get the hint to leave. He pounds his fist against the countertop a couple times for good measure before turning to face the door. Watching him as he left, you noticed for the first time that the patch on the back of his jacket was one from Dio’s Last in Line album. You gave a small hmpf. At least he had good taste in music.

SPACE

“Still sleepy there, kiddo?” Your dad says as he pulls into the shop. It was barely dawn as the two of you rolled into the parking lot, the coffee in your hand barely doing much to keep you alert at these early hours. You wished you could call yourself a morning person with how often you woke up at 5:30 am to get ready for the day. But Monday’s were always hard on you after getting to sleep in on the weekend.

“What else is new?” You say, punctuated by another yawn that hit you hard enough it gave you shivers down your body. Your dad let out a laugh as he shifted the car into park, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lighting one up. You followed suit, grabbing one from your own pack and stealing his lighter to spark it up. The smooth menthol wasn’t enough to wake you, but it kept your mouth busy enough that you wouldn’t fall asleep in the passenger seat.

The two of you sat in a sweet silence for the duration of your smoke, watching the sun rise from the rear view mirror. The only sounds to be heard was the low hum of the local morning talk show that played on the car’s radio.

That was until a loud booming sound could be heard in the distance. A boom that started to grow louder with each passing second. The two of you looked at each other as if asking the same question to one another before turning around and looking out the back window. You couldn’t see where it was coming from at first, until a small set of headlights started to show from down the road, approaching at a speed way faster than you knew this streets limit was. As it came into view, you whispered a barely audible “no” as the loud vehicle turned into the parking lot, now illuminated by the morning sun.

It was Eddie and his shitty van.

You thought surely the music would turn down once he made his way into the parking lot, but the loud sounds of what you could now make out as Metallica due to the sheer volume of the music coming from his van were persistent.

“What the fuck?” You say, looking over to your dad, who had a glint in his eye that you didn’t like. “Dad, no, he’s going to wake up the whole neighborhood.” You say sternly. But your dad doesn’t respond verbally. Instead he undoes his seat belt and hops out of the car, leaving it on for you to sit in so you don’t have to endure the harsh December cold.

You watch as he walks over to the van and knocks on the window and instantly hear the volume of the van drop in decibels as the window comes down. A plume of smoke comes barreling out and you watch as Eddie’s hand reaches out to swat the smoke away from your dad’s face. You take another hit of your cigarette as your dad talks to Eddie from his window.

After a few moments, you watch as your dad rounds the van, it rocking slightly once he gets to the other side. Did your dad just get in this guys van? Surely not.

Or surely yes, because as the familiar cars of your other workers began to pull into the lot, you didn’t see your dad come from the other side of the van. Irritation that shouldn’t be had on such an early Monday morning started to bubble in you, and if it weren’t so cold you would have gotten out and asked your dad what the hell he was doing a long time ago.

Checking the dash, you see it’s already opening time, so you cut the engine and lock the car, braving the cold as you walk past the van and to the door. The guys are already waiting for you as you approach the door, huddled around each other as they watch you unlock the door.

“Morning, ma’am,” Bob, your most senior member, says as he pushes past you to get inside. The others greet you as well as they make make their way in. As they file inside, the sound of car doors closing gets your attention. You look to see your dad and Eddie walking towards you, hands in their pockets to keep them warm from the cold.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” you say as they approach. Not waiting for them as you walk inside, letting the door close behind you, you make your way to the light switches and begin flicking them on. The ones in the bay’s are already on as the guys get set up for the day, a couple cars already loaded up to be worked on first thing this morning.

Eddie and your dad eventually came in through the door, both of them laughing and having a grand old time.

“Hey, do you mind showing Eddie where the time clock is?” Your dad asks as he fishes his keys from his jacket pocket to unlock his office.

“Can’t you show him? He’s already your best friend, apparently?”

“I have a call I need to get on with an important client. Just go ahead and show him around the shop for me, please?” He gives you those big, puppy dog eyes of his that honestly don’t get to you at this point anymore. But for the sake of him begging, you sigh and put your hands on your hips.

“Fine,” you say with a shrug. You motion for Eddie to follow you. “Come on, back this way.”

Leaving your desk, you walk around the hallway corner and to the break room. Pushing the door open, you prop it open with the metal wedge and walk inside. Flipping the lights on, you instantly walk to the coffee pot and push the button to get it warmed up. You turn to see Eddie waiting patiently for you by the doorway, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

“Over here is the time clock,” you say, walking over to where the time punches for the week are sitting on the wall. “They’re in alphabetical order, so make sure you grab yours and not somebody else’s.” You scan the tickets and find the new name card you added on Friday, pulling it from the slot. “Just stick it in here and it’ll mark when you clocked in. If you ever have an issue with it, make sure you come to me right away so that we can get it fixed.”

Eddie walks over and plucks the card from your fingers, placing it into the slot and waiting for the click. Once it does, he pulls it out and places the card back into the slot you pulled it from. “Seems easy enough,” he says, looking at you with that smile still plastered on his face. It irked you to no end.

“Great, make sure to do that when you get here every day. It’s hard to pay you without it.”

Eddie starts to laugh, but you’re really not sure what about. Was it something you said? Was he making fun of you?

“What?” You say in a serious tone. But Eddie just waves his hands, his bangs flying as he shakes his head.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says. You blink at him, deciding it wasn’t worth your time to pry for answers you didn’t really care to know. Gesturing your hands around you, you let him know that you are in fact in the break room. Eddie nods, looking around, his eyes landing on the coffee pot.

“The coffee is free, just make sure if you take the last of it to turn it off.”

“Awesome, I’ll definitely be needing that.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Not really. My uncle made me coffee this morning. I don’t really drink it much.”

“I’ll show you,” you say, walking over to the machine. Grabbing all the things you need, you walk him through the process of filling up the back with water, how to put the grounds in the filter, and which button to press to start it.

“This seems more complicated than the time clock,” he says with a laugh.

You scoff, “Once you do it a few times you’ll get it. Or you can wait until someone else starts it. There’s usually a pot back here ready within the first half hour that we’re here.” Eddie’s head bounces with a nod. Still smiling. “Well, lets move on to the rest of the building,” you say as you walk past him.

As you exit the break room, you look both ways trying to decide where to go next. You suppose you can work from the back to the front, that way you can drop him off with Bob or Terry when you’re done. You break to the right, Eddie hot on your heels as you walk. “Those are the restrooms,” you say as you pass the two sets of doors with a water fountain in between them. “Make sure you clean up after yourself if you shit, because I sure as hell am not doing it.”

That gets a laugh out of Eddie. “Aye, aye, captain,” he says with a salute.

“Back here is the stock room.” You turn the knob and open the door to the large storage room that resided in the back of the building. It was stocked to the brim with supplies like oil, parts, and other necessities that the shop kept on hand. Eddie looked around with wide eyes as he took everything in. “You’ll learn where everything is as time goes by. If you notice something is low in stock, come tell me as soon as possible so I can order more.”

“Okay, can do,” Eddie nods.

“Back out this way,” you say, walking over to another door that enters into the bay, “is the main work area. Make sure this door is locked at the end of the day.” As you walk out to the bay, you stop at a side door to the right. “This is a door to go outside. You can smoke out there, eat lunch, whatever really. Just keep it propped open when you’re out there so you don’t lock yourself out and have to come around the front. The boss tries to keep as much grease out of the lobby as possible.” You look down at his shoes and notice he’s wearing a pair of white reeboks. “Did you bring other shoes?”

“No, are these not allowed?” Eddie asks, his smile finally turning into a frown.

“It’s not that they’re not allowed, but they’re going to go from white to black real quick if you’re not careful.”

“Shit, I didn’t think about that,” Eddie said, looking down at his shoes.

“Ask around, I’m sure the guys could give you a recommendation where to get some good boots.”

Eddie looks up at you and, once again, smiles. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

“Whatever,” you say, pressing forward. You show him around the bay, where the tools are, and where everyone’s lockers are to keep their things while they work. Eddie follows you wordlessly, just a step behind you the whole time. When he almost bumps into you as you stop, you have to turn to face him, putting hands on his arms and extending yours.

“See this? Distance. Keep yours.”

“Sorry,” he says, looking at your hands on his arms. You drop them quickly and turn back around, scanning the bay for Bob, who was bent over a cars engine.

“Bob!” You call, getting the older man’s attention. He straightens up and looks your way, giving a slight wave.

“Bob, this is Eddie, our new guy.”

“Nice to meetcha, kiddo.” The corners of Bobs eyes wrinkle when he smiles, extending a greasy hand out to Eddie, one that he takes and shakes enthusiastically.

“Likewise, sir,” Eddie says, nodding to the man.

“Do you care to babysit for a while? Dad says he knows a lot about cars but might need some help for a few weeks.”

“Sure thing,” Bob says like you knew he would. Bob was a talker, enjoyed the company of others. You’d been caught up in his stories on more than one occasion, but you’d always tried to be polite with him since he was such a hard worker. “Let’s see what you can tell me about this gal right here.” Bob wraps an arm around Eddie and ushers him towards the car he’s working on.

Letting out a sigh of relief, free from your responsibility to the new guy, you make your way out of the bay and back into the front lobby to your desk. You scold yourself for not turning your computer on before giving Eddie the grand tour so that it could’ve booted up. Giving it time to start, you go through the days checklist that you left yourself over the weekend and get to work.

Lunch time couldn’t roll around fast enough. You’d barely made it half way through your list for the day, not expecting it to take you so long to get everything done. Too many phone calls with dick head old men and wives of clients who couldn’t tell you what a fender was if it hit them in the head. The main website you use to order parts was down for half the morning, meaning there would be at least a half days delay on everything that was needed to work on the cars already in the shop.

And then there was the young mother who broke down with her baby that talked your ear off for the last hour while you tried desperately to get a hold of her husband for her. At least the baby was cute; babies being your bad mood kryptonite. She even let you hold her, which would have been fine if you hadn’t caught a particular curly headed nuisance staring at you from the bay as you held them. But you just brushed it off, not giving that loser an ounce of your attention.

Plopping back down in your chair, you felt like all your energy had been zapped and it was barely past 11 am. Not a moment later your father pokes his head around the corner of his office.

“Hey, let’s order pizza,” he says with a wide grin. Something must have gone well with a contractor given his good mood.

“What’s the occasion?” You ask, pulling out the paper for Surfer Boy’s Pizza from your desk drawer.

“I figured we’d treat the new guy,” he says, taking the paper from your grasp to look it over.

You groan, rolling your eyes. “I guess I’m asking everyone what they want?”

“You’re my girl,” he says, handing the paper back to you. You take it, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen before heading to the bay. The smell of fresh oil hits your nose, but it’s not something that bothers you anymore after working here for a few years now. You make your way around to the guys and get everyone’s orders. Thankfully everyone was being easy, just wanting cheese or pepperoni.

You made your way over to where Bob and Eddie were working on the same car that bob was looking at earlier, but Eddie was no where to be seen. Bob was hunched over by the front, looking down at the ground where you saw a pair of white shoes sticking out from under the car.

“Hey, Bob,” you say, grabbing the man’s attention.

“Oh, hey, darlin’. What’s up?”

“We’re getting pizza. You good with cheese and pepperoni?”

“Oh boy, that sounds good to me,” he says with a nod. He taps his foot against the white pair of sneakers and Eddie’s body comes rolling out from under the car, now clad in an oversized workers uniform.

“Where’d you find that?” You ask, pointing at Eddie.

“This is one of my spares from before I lost all that weight. I figured he could use it until his comes in.”

“Oh, yeah, that should be sometime this week. Make sure you wash that one and give it back to Bob when you’re done with it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie says with a nod.

“Now, we’re getting pizza. Are you okay with cheese and pepperoni?”

“Wow, really? Yeah that would be great. I…forgot my lunch, so I could definitely use it.”

“Cool, well you guys were my last stop so I’ll go ahead and order it. Should be here in an hour or so.”

“Perfect,” Eddie says, giving you a thumbs up. You don’t respond, turning on your heel and walking back through the bay to the lobby.

“Okay, I got everybody’s orders,” you say as you walk into your father’s office. He looks up from his paperwork and smiles, reaching out to you. “You don’t want me to call?” You ask, handing the papers to him.

“No, I’m gonna pay for it myself, so I’ll order it.” He looks over the paper then speaks, “Do you know what Eddie asked for?”

“He didn’t say anything specific. Just said he was grateful to have it.” Your father nods, setting the papers down on his desk and picking up the phone. It struck you as odd that he was so interested in this new guy, but not enough to care to ask him about it. Maybe Eddie said something to him in their interview that struck something in your dad. He was already under a car on day one, so maybe you weren’t giving him enough credit.

SPACE

Lunch arrived and you paged on the overhead for everyone to come and eat. You set the pizza’s on the break room counter with the plates and two liters of pop. Your dad really splurged today, ordering way more food and drinks than what would be needed for the small shop. A few minutes later the guys began to roll into the break room, conversation flowing between them as they made their way to the pizza boxes.

You waited for everyone to get their food before grabbing some for yourself. Taking a few slices, you headed towards the door to go back to your desk before someone called your name.

“You’re not eating with us?” Eddie said, standing behind you with a plate full.

“I have work to do,” you said simply.

“She doesn’t take breaks,” Tom calls from across the break room.

“Yeah her dad has her slaving over that fancy computer all day,” Jerry adds, making the room erupt in laughter.

“Your dad?” Eddie asks looking at your curiously.

You sigh, not really wanting to tell the new guy that the boss is your dad on day one. “Yeah, Tony is my dad,” you say, flatly. Eddie’s head bobs, a smile spreading on his face.

“That makes sense. I thought it was weird you guys came together today. I thought maybe you were dating or something.”

The guys start laughing again and you cringe at Eddie’s words.

“What’s so funny?” You snap, and the laughter starts to die down.

“You dating is what’s funny,” Bob says taking a bite of his pizza.

“Why’s that funny?” Eddie asks.

“This girl hates love,” Bob says, gesturing towards you and you roll your eyes. It wasn’t that you hated love, you just didn’t believe in it. There was a time in your life that you might have thought it was real, but after the things you’ve been through, you’d been convinced that love was all just a big scam. Something made up to sell jewelry and heart shaped boxed of chocolates.

“What? Really?”

“I’m just not into it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I actually have important things to do.” And with that, you turn on your heel, leaving Eddie in the dust as you make your way back to your desk.

The end of the day wrapped up when the clock struck 6 pm. The garage doors to the bay closed for the night and you were cleaning up your desk, leaving a note to remember to call a potential client back first thing in the morning. Your dad stepped out of his office, closing the door behind him with the turn of a key as he locked it shut for the night.

“Should I grab the rest of the pizza’s or are we leaving them for tomorrow?” You ask, grabbing your jacket and throwing it on.

“Leave them,” your dad says, tossing you his keys. You looked at him confused. “Go ahead and start the car, I’ll lock up.”

“Okaaaay,” you say shoving the keys in your pocket and rounding the front desk. You pushed the door open and felt the cold December breeze hitting the skin of your cheeks once again. You beelined it for the car and started it up, cranking the heat up in a futile attempt to make the warm air come out faster. Rolling the window down, you lit up a smoke and watched as the guys made their way to their cars.

You noticed your dad didn’t come out with everyone else and that made you curious. Normally if he wanted to stay over he wouldn’t have you go and start the car. But you also noticed Eddie’s car was still in the lot as well.

A few minutes later, the front door finally opened and your dad and Eddie walked out of the shop. You squinted your eyes, trying to make sure what you were seeing was correct. Eddie was standing with two boxes of pizza in his hands as your dad locked the door. What the hell? You thought he was leaving the pizzas for tomorrow. You waited to see if your dad took the pizza boxes back, but as Eddie diverged from your dad’s side to get in his van, you noticed he still had the pizza boxes in his hands.

“Alright, let’s go,” you dad says as he slides in his seat, bringing his hands to the air vents to warm them up.

“What was that?” You ask, looking at him incredulously.

“What was what?” He says with a laugh, giving you a look back.

“You gave him those pizzas.”

“It’s his first day! I wanted him to feel welcomed with us. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you going to take him to a steak dinner next?” You say as you buckle yourself in.

“It’s not like that,” you dad assures you before buckling himself in.

“Whatever.”

thank you for reading!

tags:

@meetmeatyourworst @hazydespair @gloomweed @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @prestinalove @rowynbriarsalix

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andvys · 2 months ago

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The edges of your soul (I haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter three

⭐︎ You're the greatest thing we've lost

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comofort (I guess?), mentions of death, grief, grumpy/mean!Steve

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Steve allows you to see a glimpse of who he really is, and not only do you get that, you also find out some sad truths.

Word count: 12.1k

Author's note: One of the chapters I was excited for the most was this one, you'll know why when you read it hehe. @hellfire--cult worked on this one with me, and she added a lot (don't listen to her when she will say she didn't, cause she did !) give her some love (or all of it cause she deserves it ♡)

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter ⭐︎ next chapter

☀︎

Steam fogs the mirror in the bathroom, drops of water fall from your hair and down your shoulders, the smell of vanilla and lavender lingers in the room, you are rubbing moisturizer into your skin, enjoying the luxury of it all, a luxury you won’t have much longer the moment you are back on the road again. It’s impossible to find functioning showers nowadays, let alone hot running water. Something that used to be so normal, is something special now and you enjoy every second here in Hawkins, every hot shower, every good night’s sleep, every warm meal, the feeling of safety.

You put a pair of sweatpants on and a sweater to keep you warm, a pair of wool socks that Nancy knitted herself. You brush your wet hair and clip it back.

When you step out into the hallway, silence greets you. Eddie is in his room, he was complaining about a headache after you finished patrolling together after he worked on the RV all morning, you both got caught in the rain and after taking a shower to warm up, he excused himself to lie down. The door to Nancy’s bedroom is closed as well, she must be reading, she always closes the door when she does. The rainy weather allows you all to take everything a bit slower, to rest a little more than usual.

The wind howls outside, thunder striking somewhere far, red bolts of lightning curse through the sky, an image you still haven’t gotten used to.

You make your way down the stairs, it isn’t dark out yet but the grey clouds make it seem like it’s evening already, the golden light from the fireplace in the living room is very inviting in contrast to the darkness outside. You step inside and notice Steve moving around in the kitchen, taking out bowls from the cardboard. A towel is slung over his shoulder, his features are relaxed, no sign of a frown appearing on his face… yet.

You watch him for a moment, not moving away or towards him. You don’t want to disturb him or his peace. He seems to be content by himself and you know that facial expression will change the moment he notices you.

Things have been tense between you after your one and only time patrolling together. He didn’t ask you to join him in anything and you didn’t make the mistake of trailing after him again. You also didn’t make much more conversation with him and he seemed happy about it for he didn’t try either. The only interactions you both have are ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’, maybe a ‘can you pass me the salt’ or an ‘excuse me’ here and there but that’s all.

It’s been eleven days since your arrival here, and you both are still where you started. It saddens you. You tried to get to know him, and you still want to but he makes it hard to.

Maybe if things had been different, you would have gotten the chance to get to know the Steve you have seen in the pictures Nancy had shown you. The guy he once was seemed sweet and welcoming, the one before you is the opposite of it.

You know something must’ve happened to him. Maybe it’s got to do with the scars on his skin, maybe he lost someone you don’t know about, maybe it’s because of Robin but whatever it was that took away the light in his eyes has turned him into this – mistrusting and mean.

A silent sigh falls from your lips, you force your eyes away from his form and turn away, ready to make your way back up the stairs but his voice makes you halt in your tracks.

“Hey…”

A lump grows in your throat, a nervous feeling settles in your chest, you swallow and take a deep breath before you turn around, facing him again.

He is looking right at you, an awkward attempt at a smile pulling at his lips.

“Hi… I uh, Nancy and Eddie are in their rooms and I didn’t want to disrupt their peace but uh I also don’t want to disrupt yours so–”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts you, not even letting you finish your sentence. “Would you like to help me?”

You blink.

Did you hear him correctly?

He presses his palms against the counter, raising his eyebrows at you, like he waits for you to say yes.

Steve notices your uncertainty, the knit between your brows, the pursed lips, the confused look in your eyes. You are pulling at your sleeves, looking a little lost, looking a little intimidated. You are not like this with Nancy and Eddie, you are comfortable with them – but not with him, and he can’t blame you for that.

“I could use a hand.”

You nod slowly, licking your lips, “yeah, I uh, sure!”

You can’t help but feel a giddiness inside of you. He never asked you to join him before, he never asked for your help.

“What do you need me to do?” You ask as you make your way over to him, standing across from him now, on the other side of the kitchen island.

“Butter for now.”

“Butter?” You tilt your head.

He hates it when you do that, every time you ask a question, every time you are confused about something, you tilt your head to the side.

“We received a ton of milk, but we have to make our own butters and cream,” he explains as he gestures to the cans of milk on the table.

“Oh…”

“Wanna give me a hand? It’s a lot of stirring.”

You nod, following him to the small, round kitchen table.

“Here,” he murmurs, gesturing to the wooden jar, “this is a butter churn.”

“This is what they look like?”

Steve nods, “yeah, what’d you think they looked like?”

You shrug, picking up the stick, “I dunno, this thing looks like something straight out of the 1500s.”

Steve snorts, “maybe it is, we found it in Miss Keller’s house, she’s basically from the 1500s with the dresses she always wore.”

You fake a gasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth, “you stole Miss Keller’s butter churn? Bad Steve.”

He rolls his eyes at you and turns away, but you see the way his lips curl upwards, even if only a little. – A small victory on your part.

“So… how do I use this thing?”

He pours some milk into the jar and takes the stick from your hands, putting inside the jar before he covers the sides with a towel so the milk doesn’t splatter over you both.

“Here, you just… do these motions,” he explains, twisting the stick from side to side as he raises it up and down slowly, “you churn it slowly, you don’t want the milk to get all over you, it may take some time until you see some progress, you just gotta be patient.”

You hum, moving a little closer to him, invading his space, you smell his shampoo, his body wash, a hint of oranges and apricot, the sweet and soft scents surprise you, most men opt for masculine scents, strong and overpowering ones. You prefer this. You like this, you like this a little more than you should. You watch the way his hands move as he shows you the motions, you focus on his voice when he gives you the instructions and then you take over when he hands you the stick before he steps away from you rather quickly.

Unbeknownst to you, he too liked the scent that lingers on your skin a little too much. The sweetness of it, the softness of your hand when it touched his own, the closeness and the heat of your body – he doesn’t like you, how could he? His body reacts to your scent, feminine and soft. It’s been a long time since he felt the touch of a woman, and you are the first to graze his skin, that’s all. He wouldn’t think anything of it, he wouldn’t react to it had there been other women around.

To his surprise you stay quiet, focused on the task before you, you don’t speak or ask any questions for a while, it’s almost odd to him, you are talkative, never missing the opportunity to open your mouth and ramble about something completely random and unimportant. Then again, things have been tense between you both. He knows it’s his fault, he also knows that it’s for the better, yet he can’t help but dislike this silence right now, he doesn’t know why.

He tries to focus on his own task, pouring milk into a pot to make cream.

The crackle of the fire, and the sound from the butter churn fill the silence between you both. A few minutes pass before you finally speak up.

“What are we using the butter for?” You ask, feeling the soreness in your wrist already.

“For the meat. I use it to make it tender. The meats are not as good now that the cows are not properly cared for. They’re just cows from the wild and the few from the barn here.”

“Oh, so they don’t get all the needed supplements and stuff?”

“Exactly,” Steve nods, reaching for a spatula, he starts stirring the milk, “I mean, we do our best but you know…”

You look over at him, surprised to find him looking back at you already, you didn’t realize his eyes were on you. You nod your head slowly, not moving your eyes away from his, you don’t break the contact just yet, looking into his hazel eyes that are always blazing with anger or annoyance, right now it’s neither of those emotions, it’s something else, something you can’t read, something you can’t make out, something you haven’t seen in his eyes yet, a look yet to be unlocked.

He blinks, shaking his head, he furrows his eyebrows and looks down at your hand, “how does it look?”

You breathe out and force your eyes away from his as well, you stop your movements and lift the towel off the jar, “uh, I think it’s solid now.”

“Great, now pour it into the bowl,” he gestures to the bowl with the cheesecloth inside.

You fall quiet again and follow his instructions, his voice fills the space between you as he gives you a step by step on what to do but when you’re as good as done, the silence between you is almost deafening, almost awkward, especially to him, the need to fill it is so strong.

He swore to himself that he wouldn’t talk to you if not necessary, that he wouldn’t ask questions. He doesn’t want to know anything about you, he doesn’t need that in his life, but this moment right now is killing him. He is done cooking the cream, and he is now working on making dinner, cutting vegetables. He tries to distract himself with that but to no avail.

He glances at you. It’s dark out now, the only source of light coming from the fireplace and all the candles set up because he likes to save up on electricity by keeping the lights off. The golden light touches your skin so softly, your hair shining from it, the smell of your body wash lingers in the room. You look relaxed, you look content despite being here with him. The sweater you are wearing is too big and it slipped down your shoulder from all the movements, exposing the scar that has formed on your shoulder. It was fresh when you came here, and he never found out how you got it.

He clears his throat, swallowing the lump that grew from nervousness, he speaks your name, which it’s almost foreign on his tongue.

You look up at him, “yeah..?”

“What uh,” he pauses, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly before he points to your shoulder, “what happened?”

You need a moment to follow what he is pointing at. You are surprised, almost taken aback to hear a question coming from him, a question directed at you. Slowly, you look down, only now noticing that your sweater slipped. You put down the paddle that you used to form the butter and pull your sweater back up.

“Uh… I fell onto broken glass when a sick person snuck up on me.” You explain, scrunching your nose, “I was distracted, I never am usually but I was hungry and looking for food and I found something I’ve been looking for, for months!”

“Oh,” Steve mumbles and looks down. “What was it?”

“...Kit Kat’s.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, lip curling up a bit, “you almost got yourself killed because of Kit Kat’s?”

You shrug at him, “they’ve always been my favorite! And I haven’t had any since the day the world went to shit!”

He chuckles a bit but he doesn’t comment on it further, just looking back down, giving you the opportunity to look at him closer, at the scar around his neck, you never asked how he got it, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

He looks up to find you staring at his neck. He knows you are curious, you have been from the start, he always caught you staring at it.

��I was dragged by a demo– a bat.”

He sees the way your eyes widen, how surprised you are by his explanation, “huh?”

He points to his neck, “it choked me, leaving a mark, while two others bit my flesh off.”

Steve used to cringe every moment he spent thinking of that night, of when they dragged him across the floor, leaving marks on his skin. He used to have nightmares of it, until those nightmares were replaced by new pictures, worse ones.

You nod slowly, looking him up and down, there are no other visible marks for you to see, except for the one on his neck.

“Where?”

He sighs, not wanting to look into your eyes, not wanting to see the sadness flashing in them. He looks back down at the carrot he was cutting, picking the knife back up again, he continues.

“My abdomen, my sides… but Eddie had it worse.”

You quickly realize what he is doing, steering the topic away from him again, thinking he doesn’t deserve sympathy for what he went through.

You have seen the scars on Eddie’s skin, the deep and gnarly marks, he briefly told you what had happened but you never pushed the subject, you never tried to find out more.

“You mean the scar on his lip…?”

Steve nods, “his chest, abdomen, arms, legs… They’re all scarred. They bit off chunks of flesh.” He says, his voice sad, almost haunted.

Your shoulders drop, the look on your face too, sadness flushes through you and you look down at the table, at nothing in particular.

You can’t imagine how it happened, the pain he was in, the fear that took home in all of them when Eddie was bleeding out and fighting for his life.

Steve turns around when he registers your silence. He sees the worried, sad look on your face, how your lips curl downwards and your shoulders are dropped.

“But we’re okay now, he is healthy as you can see… and annoying.”

At that, you smile a little, lifting your head back up to look at him, “yeah, but he’s adorable.”

Steve draws back a little, raising an eyebrow at you, “you crushing on Munson or something?”

Your eyes widen and you flush all over, shaking your head quickly that your hair falls out of your clip.

“What, no! Ew! He reminds me of my brother! People that are just like my brother ain’t my type!” You scoff, shuddering a little. You pick up the paddle again and continue forming the butter into the shape you want to have it.

Steve can’t help but smile, amused by the look on your face. He gets a little curious though.

“... And what is your type?”

You hum, taking a moment to answer his question.

He doesn’t look away from you just yet, he watches you.

“Mmm… As long as he makes me smile when I need it the most… that’s all I need.”

Steve nods at your words, humming.

You look up at him, surprised to see him still watching you.

“What about you? What’s your type, cowboy?”

He flushes a little, cheeks warming under your eyes. He hasn’t talked about women in years, and hasn't thought about this either.

He shakes his head, lifting his shoulders up and down, “I uh… I honestly have no idea.”

He is not the guy he used to be, the one who was flirting freely and taking out one girl after the other – even that guy didn’t know his type. He was searching for something in every girl, and he never found it.

“Oh come on!” You scoff, looking at him in disbelief, “what type of women did you go out with?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, they were always… stereotypical girls that always talked about the latest trends and stuff.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you look down.

“Ah right… Prom King. I can guess which type of women you’re into–”

He quickly shakes his head at you, “no… no… I went out with them to have fun, it was just physical. Those girls weren’t my type.”

You frown at his words and sigh.

For some reason your reaction makes him think that you’re done with this conversation, but then you look back up and turn towards him completely.

“Okay… then, when you’re with a woman, what is attractive to you?”

“... Real answer?”

“Sure…” You murmur.

A smirk tugs at his lip when he notices how flustered you are getting when his eyes move up and down.

You notice how he stops at your chest in particular and you can’t help but groan and shake your head in disappointment.

“Booo…”

“No!” Steve raises his hands up in surrender, chuckling.

“I was gonna say eyes.”

You roll your eyes, snorting, “right… I didn’t mean physically, Steve. I meant what is attractive to you when you’re on a date with them? What do they do that is attractive to you?”

Your words wipe the small smile off his face again, and he stands there in silence, getting lost in his thoughts, getting lost in the past, reliving every date, every moment that should have excited him but didn’t. He realizes that there was not a single date that is worth remembering, not a single girl who made him smile genuinely. Sure, he had fun the moment he was in pleasure but that’s all, the girls were attractive physically but emotionally? They all sucked, none of them cared about him, all they wanted was a piece of King Steve.

And even when he thought he found something genuine, someone to love him, someone to care for him, it turned out to be a show, it was just as genuine as the interest all those girls had in him. It was all a lie.

There is no love in him for her anymore, no feelings, no desires, nothing. But those words still hurt and sometimes they still haunt him because he believes it. Those words echo in his head, just like all the other hateful things others have thrown at him. But one in particular remains,

‘Bullshit’

“I… I don’t know…” He whispers, letting his facade fall for only a moment. “I guess someone who doesn’t see me as a failure.”

You are taken aback by his words, a weird feeling settling in your chest at the confession.

When Steve realizes what he said, when he notices the look in your face, when he notices his mistake, he immediately draws back.

“W-What… Failure, why?”

He shakes his head, turning his back to you again, “doesn’t matter, um… the butter should be done, wanna give me a hand cutting the potatoes?”

You hesitate, staring at the back of his head. You want to know more, you want to know why he said that, you want to know why he feels like this, who made him feel like this.

A sigh falls from your lips, loud enough for him to hear.

“Sure…”

You leave it alone, not wanting to risk getting on his bad side again, you bite your tongue and do as he asked. You clean up the kitchen table before you walk over to him, getting your own cutting board, and you start peeling the potatoes.

You work in silence for a while, just like before, but this one isn’t as uncomfortable, even though his words still echo in your head and you wonder about his past. You don’t want him to close up on you again, not when he just started to open up, so you don’t press the subject further.

It’s too silent though and you can barely handle it. You let go of the peeler before you started peeling the potatoes, taking Steve aback, his eyes already glaring at you as you turned and walked away.

“Really? You don’t want to peel potatoes?”

“It’s too quiet!” You leave the kitchen, leaving Steve stunned as he looks back at the door. It was quiet but he didn’t think you were going to have a breakdown because of it. He doesn’t know you and that is being a little obvious by now. Maybe you don’t do good with silence and he just doesn't know that side of you. If he knew, maybe he could have talked about something else, or try.

But not two seconds later, he starts hearing the radio turning and then static. He doesn’t remember when was the last time they turned on that radio. He can hear you changing the channels of it, the static growing and lowering, and he wonders if you're crazy. There is no music being played. Who would operate a radio station in the middle of the apocalypse–

His eyes widen when he starts hearing ‘Hound dog’ by Elvis Presley. It is static, yet it is still there. There is music. Somewhere in Indiana, someone is operating a radio station. Someone is trying to keep people in a good mood despite it all. He never knew. Nancy never knew. Eddie never tried. The three of them thought that the only music they could have was Eddie’s guitar.

He hears you humming to it, walking back into the kitchen and placing the small radio on the far corner so you two can have the music to yourselves. He is still staring at the radio, completely stunned, his eyes wide. You turn to look at him when you grab the peeler, noticing the look of surprise.

“Why do you look so stunned?”

“I– I didn’t know they played music…” Your eyes went to look at it and you smiled, nodding at him.

“Yeah, I had one back at camp too… Did you know radio signals can travel from 50 to 60 miles away? Some AM stations up to 100 miles!” He is still surprised there is music, yet you are talking away facts to him about radio signals. But that actually caught his attention. There are others, not an hour away from him. It has to be the WSQK watts station. It has to be.

“There’s… a radio station near… like thirty or forty minutes away from here…” You turn to him, surprised as well now.

“Really? Well… there’s people operating there… Probably also sending out news and messages to people.” Your attention turns back to the potatoes, starting to peel away, leaving the peeled skin scraps in a mountain on the counter.

“That’s… good to know.” It actually is good to know. They thought that the only radio signal they could ever get for news was Mr. Clarke’s transmitter that is in the library. That’s how they got contacted by Hopper when the others arrived in California, and now he is finding out that maybe some radio stations are still transmitting. They are probably using some kind of solar panel to make energy because–

“This potato has a worm.” He snaps out of his thoughts immediately at your words, frowning as he looks down at it.

“There’s no worm there.” You slowly look up at him with a cheeky smile, only to look back down, leaving that peeled potato aside to grab another.

“You were thinking too much. Just enjoy the music, you can think later.” You reply and he blinks for a few seconds as the song keeps playing. He looks back down to his carrots, grabbing the knife he left on the side to keep cutting. The minutes pass, the songs changing, songs he knows. Songs that remind him of when the world didn’t simply go to shit.

And there’s some kind of comfort in that.

“Did you know Marvin Gaye was shot by his own father?” You have been spitting facts and news to him that he either knew or never knew, and he didn’t notice he found himself talking back at you, even giving a fact or two of his own.

“I did, that was crazy as shit.” The song ‘Sexual Feeling’ was playing, that’s why you started talking about that with him. Each song that passed, you said something about it. You were stirring the vegetables in the boiling water while he sauted the meat in the pan, with the butter you made. He threw some rosemary in it too, for extra flavour.

One other thing he didn’t notice was that he had been humming along all this time.

He had two pans where he was cooking four pieces of meat, while you worked on making sure the vegetables were properly boiled. You had added some garlic in the pot because you claimed it’s good for the overall health. He almost chuckled at that because it was just because garlic is delicious. There was no need to put garlic on boiled vegetables.

You two didn’t even notice that even in the silence of conversation, where just the music played, there was no more awkwardness. There was no tension. There was nothing that could make you think he didn’t like you anymore.

“Is that Marvin Gaye?” The sound of Nancy’s voice makes the two of you turn around, and she is surprised to see you working together. It’s been days since you two last had a proper conversation, and– “Wait… music?”

“Yeah. She kind of discovered it. Nance, we didn’t know the radio station was still functioning, for a whole year.” Steve’s voice makes you feel proud, knowing you helped and that he was actually surprised by your discovery. Nancy blinks a few times, not believing her ears.

“Wait, so it means we can use that to receive news…” Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle for a second, only to then nod slightly.

“I bet they’re not different from the news we get from the transmitter in the library, Nance.” His head turns back to the meat, while you grab four plates, stacking them next to him. “Thanks.”

You try to tone down your giddiness, not wanting to show him you are really happy he is being civil and friendly with you, “No problem.”

Nancy’s eyes travel back and forth with the two of you, wondering what had changed, but it is better not to ask. Seeing Steve putting steak on each plate while you grab a colander from the cupboards below the sink. You are about to grab the pot yourself, grabbing kitchen clothes to not burn yourself on the handles, but Steve grabs them from you.

“Let me.” You see how he grabs the pot, not letting you do it, not letting you carry the heavy weight yourself.

“Um–” You don’t know how to react or say, kind of confused at his action, but you don’t dislike how much of a gentleman that move was. Nancy hums a bit to herself, clearing her throat before yelling out.

“Eddie! Food’s ready!” Your head turns to look at her, and you snap from your thoughts, not noticing you had been looking at his arms as they strained a bit when pouring the water into the colander. You quickly move to the cupboards to start setting up the table with Nancy as Eddie walks down the stairs.

“Oh, shit, we eating Steve’s delicious steaks?” Steve rolls his eyes but he’s proud of his cooking. It’s one of those things he knew he was good at, and he never received any complaints.

“Just set the table up, Munson.” He replies and Eddie immediately moves to grab the water out of the fridge and set it on the table. You go back to the counter, next to Steve, and grab a big scooping spoon. Steve hands you one plate, with a steak on it, and you just add some boiled vegetables on it before placing it in front of Nancy as she sits down.

Once you are all seated, Eddie doesn’t even wait a second before he shoves a piece of meat into his mouth, moaning as if he’s in a porn movie, making the other three of you cringe.

“Do you have to do that everytime you eat his steak?” Nancy asks as she cuts herself a little piece, Eddie turning to look at her, with his mouth full.

“Its’ ‘fee biss’ stek’ i’ve evur’ haf.” You snort into your water at the nonsense he just mumbled because of his mouth full of food. Steve holds in a chuckle as he grimaces in disgust.

“Can you chew and swallow before you talk?” And Eddie glares at him only for his eyes to widen up as he looks around, a frown in his eyebrows. He chews quickly, swallowing where he almost choked.

“Is that– ‘Take on me’? Is that fucking music!?” Nancy snorts as you all realize that Eddie hadn’t even noticed the music playing because he was more focused on Steve’s steaks.

You explain that you have found a few channels over the months every time you come across a radio somewhere, though none of them have played metal music.

“Maybe you gotta do the heavy metal channel,” you shrug.

“Huh, you know what? Maybe I will, once I figure out how to, I fucking will,” he nods happily before he takes another bite of his steak.

Steve chuckles a little to himself, though he keeps his eyes trained on the plate before him. Nancy and Eddie share a look of surprise, it’s been a while since they saw him so… relaxed.

For the first time in a while, he joins in on the small talk during dinner, commenting and nodding along to the things you talk about. A sparkle of hope is inside of both Nancy and Eddie, hope that maybe there is still something left in him wanting to try, wanting to live, wanting to fight for something better.

Maybe he is ready to leave now, maybe he is learning how to let go.

Eddie wastes no time in wanting to find out, because the moment you are all done eating and he pushes the empty plate away from him, leaning back, he stuffs his hand into the pocket of his jeans, fishing something out.

You all watch curiously.

Eddie flashes you a smile when you lean closer, trying to peek over the table. He lifts his arm up and throws something over to Steve, the unmistakable sound of jingling keys passing by you, a flash over silver before your eyes before it lands in Steve’s hand.

Steve looks down, feeling the metal in his palm, his fingers are closed around it. He doesn’t need to look to know what it is, the happiness in Eddie’s eyes and the dreadful feeling in his stomach tells him exactly what it is.

With furrowed eyebrows, he stares at nothing in particular.

“What is it!?” Nancy asks, impatiently.

Eddie looks at the both of you, unable to contain the smile on his face as he starts jumping up and down on his chair.

“I finished it,” he explains proudly, though neither of you understand what he means by that as you both give him questioning looks, to which he sighs. “The RV! It’s up and running! We can finally get out of here!”

“Seriously?” Nancy nearly squeals, her eyes lighting up at his words, she nearly jumps from her chair, almost knocking it over.

You know that she’s been waiting for this, waiting to be reunited with her family again.

“Yeah! We’re going to California, baby!” Eddie exclaims, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze. “So you better start packing your bags.”

You smile, sharing their relief as well. You've been waiting for it too, waiting to finally see your family again, though in this moment, you fear looking over at Steve, knowing how he feels about leaving Hawkins. You still turn your head, daring to take a glance and you find exactly what you thought you would.

His features are no longer relaxed, his lips are no longer curled into a smile, his eyes aren’t soft like they were before. A mixture of sadness and anger lingers in them, and when he looks at you, meeting your eyes, you feel a shudder running down your spine, he no longer is the one from before, the one that laughed with you, the one that talked with you like you were his… friend.

He clenches his jaw and he turns away again, throwing the keys back to Eddie who catches them with one hand, the smile falling from his lips when he finally notices the frown on Steve’s face.

You all flinch a little when the chair scrapes against the hardwood floor and the brunette picks his plate up angrily before walking over to the kitchen.

Nancy’s smile falls and her shoulders slump, helplessly she looks at Eddie.

“Dude, you know we can’t stay here,” Eddie states carefully, with a soft and gentle voice. “We’re gonna run out of everything someday, you can’t prevent–”

“We won’t run out if we go hunting,” Steve grumbles.

“There’s nothing left here for us, man. We got people waiting for us–”

Suddenly, Steve turns around, with his eyes angrier than before and his cheeks burning red, “you got people waiting for you! Leave me out of this!”

Nancy frowns in disbelief, as well as Eddie who gets up from his chair as well, throwing the keys on the dining table.

“Seriously? You’re telling me that the kids aren’t waiting for you? That they haven’t been asking for you every time Dustin radio’d us and you’ve been acting like a complete asshole, refusing to speak to him – to them?”

Steve scoffs loudly, turning back around, he makes his way over to the sink.

“We’re not leaving without you, Steve,” Nancy speaks. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Nance.”

She falls silent after that, opening her mouth and closing it again, she looks a little taken aback, guilt flashes in her eyes.

Eddie only sighs, looking down with a defeated look on his face.

You don’t know what his words mean, you don’t know why she gives up after that. Many questions run through your head but you mostly wonder what he meant by that.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again and you can hear the desperation in his voice, you can see the sadness in his face, he doesn’t want to leave his friend behind but he doesn’t want to stay here either, he never wanted to, least of all now. “There is nothing left for us here, there is nothing left for you here, you know that, man. Robin is–”

You flinch again when he throws the plate into the sink, so hard it must’ve splattered in half. He turns around, throwing a finger at Eddie, “I told you I’m not leaving! If you wanna go, feel free to get the fuck out of here, all of you! But leave me alone!” He yells, glaring at the both of them before he storms out of the room, passing by you and out into the hallway, not bothering to grab a jacket or an umbrella before he rips open the door and leaves the house, slamming the door so harshly that you wonder if it’s still in tact or not.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, adrenaline kicking in when you notice that Eddie and Nancy aren’t moving, not planning to follow him out.

They know him better than you do, they know not to touch him now, he won’t listen, he won’t compromise, he will do more damage than anything else at this moment but you don’t know that.

Worry settles deep in your gut, the urge to go after him growing stronger each passing second. You get up and push the chair back, leaving them no time to react before you rush out of the room, quickly throwing on your old pair of sneakers, not wasting any more time to follow him out.

You hear your name being called before you slam the door shut, but you don’t bother to turn back around, you run straight into the storm, not caring about the rain you ran from earlier.

You rip open the gate and close it behind you, looking around you as you try to spot him in the darkness, you squint your eyes when lightning strikes through the sky. You see his silhouette, three houses down the road.

The rain runs down your face, soaking through your clothes already, the coldness of it clinging to your skin and making you shiver already, even as you start running after him, following him wherever he is going. You pick up the pace when he gets further and further away from you.

Worry still gnawing at you, not knowing how he will react to you following him but you can’t just let him go like this, you know that he is angry but you also know that the anger is a mask for something else. He is sad, he is broken because of things that happened to him. You may not be the person he wants him to follow, but you just can’t let him go like this.

You slow down when he rounds the corner of a house, disappearing behind the wall. The rain paddles harshly against the floor, thunder crashing through the sky. You almost slip on the muddy ground when you step into the grass, you halt in your tracks when you notice the surrounding bushes, somehow still full and alive, unlike most other things in Hawkins.

You lost him after he disappeared into the garden of whoever lives or lived in this house. The white picket fence has no gate, and you can just walk through it. You follow the footprints in the mud, feeling grateful for the lightning for once. You push your wet hair out of your face, as you inch closer and closer to where he ran off to.

You take deep breaths, trying not to shiver from the cold. Thunder makes you flinch again, though the loud crash is not what makes you halt in your tracks, nor is it the red lightning bolts in the sky that illuminate your surroundings, allowing you to see better, allowing you to take in the view before you.

For a moment, you stop breathing, you stop moving completely, you are sure that even your heart stopped beating. You can only raise your hand to your lips as your eyes widen in horror.

He is here, he is standing in this garden, only a few steps away from you. He is standing there with his head hung low, looking down at the grave before him, wilted flowers on it, a necklace dangling from the cross, a necklace that once dangled from her neck.

Robin Buckley.

The name engraved into the wooden cross, is the name you have heard so many times, the name of his best friend.

So many feelings run through your veins but mostly shock and confusion. He talked about her like she was alive, they talked about her like she was alive, there was no sign of this. You could have never guessed. Every time he left the house saying that he was gonna visit Robin, you thought he was actually seeing her, you could have never imagined that he meant visiting her grave.

Your heart breaks when the realization of it all begins to sink in, why he is the way that he is, why he doesn’t want to leave, why he is so filled with anger and rage.

You swallow the sickening lump in your throat. You don’t know what to say or do, a part of you wants to walk away and leave him be, the other wants to comfort him, and the stronger part wins.

“Steve…” You call out softly to him, your voice reaching him despite the raging storm.

He tenses up, you can see it, it takes him a moment but when he finally turns around, you realize what a mistake it was to follow him. Even through the darkness and the rain, you can see the glistening tears in his eyes, the angry ones, the scowl on his face directed at no one but you.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t!” He snaps loudly. “Don’t say anything right now!”

You press your lips together, taking deep breaths as you look at the intense emotions in his eyes, and his anger makes you cower away. Shivers run down your spine, not from the rain, but from how he looks at you.

You shake your head slowly, digging your nails into your palms. You don’t know what to do, so you just stand there and watch him. Behind the hatred in his eyes, you see pain and sadness, you see how hard he is holding onto this, you see how it is driving him crazy, how it’s ripping him apart.

“I-I didn’t know…” You say softly.

Steve can hear the sadness in your voice, the gentle tone in it, the warmth in your eyes – he can’t stand it, he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t deserve it.

“That she’s dead? You didn’t know that my best friend is dead?” Steve scoffs as he slowly starts to make his way over to you, inching closer carefully, staring at you like you are his prey that he is ready to rip apart, right here, right now. “Well, now you fucking do, she’s dead, Robin is dead just like most people are, just like you will be the moment you step out there!” He throws his hand up, pointing at nothing in particular. His voice is trembling, the rain streams down his face.

You wince at his words.

You know what’s waiting out there, you know the dangers of this world but that doesn’t stop you from finding your family, from keeping hope alive.

You understand him now, more than anything. You don’t know how you would be if you lost someone you loved so dearly but he still has people he loves, people that love him.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I really am, I’m sorry that you lost her,” you start, your own voice trembling, out of nerves and out of fear. “But she is gone, a-and you staying here won’t change it! It won’t bring her back, it won’t fix anything! I understand your pain, I really do… but– you have people who care for you, Eddie and Nancy. You have other people who are waiting for you… Dustin?” You say despite the shock that still curses through you.

You don’t know whether it’s tears running down his cheeks or if it’s just the rain, but his eyes are glassy.

“Don’t bring Henderson into this! He is alive and well and that suffices!”

“Does it really?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Because you look miserable most of the time, and you will end up all alone once Eddie and Nancy are gone!”

Steve takes another step closer to you, looking down at you with nothing but hatred in his eyes.

“I know you feel like your life is over but it’s not, I–”

“You’ve known me for two weeks. Two fucking weeks. I don’t care about your optimistic hopeful bullshit. When you find your parents and your brother dead, you will wish you never had it to begin with.”

You draw back, straightening your back, you stare at him, speechless and stunned. The words are caught in your throat, your chest aching more than ever.

You know he is hurt and angry, and now he is trying to hurt you back. You know that they’re alive, you know that your parents are fine, you know that your brother is well.

“They’re… they’re not–”

“You saw the world out there, open your eyes for just a second!” He snaps at you, getting closer and closer, allowing you to see him and his anger better. “You are leading my friends to their death! You are helping them leave! I-I thought you would want to stay once you realized you were safe here, that you’re all fucking safe!”

You shake your head at him, growing angry too for the things he said about your family.

“Why wouldn’t I want to leave!?”

“Cause you are literally driving into hell! There are things you haven’t encountered there!”

“I want to see my family! Nancy and Eddie too! You have family waiting for you!”

A humorless laugh falls from his lips, he brings his hand up to his face, pressing his knuckle under his nose as he closes his eyes for a moment before he opens them again, looking at you again, “family? My family is here, six feet under!” He yells, pointing at the grave. He is blinded by rage and sadness. “The one person I had in my life that cared for me like no one else had is gone! And I’m not leaving her here!”

You know there is no getting through to him, not when he is like this.

Steve would rather chase after a ghost for the rest of his life.

“Leave her here?” You whisper. “She’s not here anymore, Steve! Do you really think she would want this for you? She wouldn’t! You were family, you were her best friend, she would want you to leave, to find a better place, to live!”

If the look in his eyes could kill, you’d be buried under this ground right now. You can see that it’s getting worse, that his eyes are burning, that his chest is heaving.

“I know what danger is out there, but I need my family–”

“Smell the fucking non-existent sunflowers, they’re dead by now!”

Steve tries it again, to hurt you, to harm you where he knows it hurts the most but you shake your head, trying not to let his words get to you, trying not to let his words touch your heart. You take a step away from him, shaking your head.

“No–, no they’re not,” you whisper, feeling the familiar lump in your throat, the painful throbbing in your heart, the hotness in your eyes.

He scoffs at you, looking you up and down in disbelief, “you think you’re going to find your house surrounded by a gate of protection? You’re fucking delusional if you think so.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, taking a step back further. You hesitate, feeling intimidated by his presence all the sudden but he only follows, looking right into your glassy eyes.

He is guided by hatred. He can no longer see clearly, the pain has turned him into this, the pain has made him cold. He doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, about the trembling in your bottom lip, about the fear and the sadness in your eyes.

“My family is alive, I-I know they are–”

“Smell the decay of the corpses around you, and tone down that hope of yours before you end up even more hurt than you thought you could ever be. Open your eyes for once and stop acting like an immature little girl.”

His words feel like a blow to your chest, stealing the breath from you and replacing it with pain. The colors vanish before your eyes, a darkness you never allowed to enter, blurring your vision and crawling into your veins, threatening to take over.

The tears no longer stay in your eyes, they start falling freely as your bottom lip trembles, a sob threatening to escape you though you push it back down, not wanting him to see just how much his words have hurt you.

You see nothing in his eyes, no remorse, no guilt, nothing but this – grief has turned him cold.

Your sniffle breaks his anger a little though, the blaring redness that flashed in his eyes just seconds ago, dimming just a bit when he begins to see the damage he has done. He sees the way your chest is rising up and down heavily, the way you're blinking quickly like it would stop your tears from falling, he sees the pain in your eyes that he had caused.

You are crying, he made you cry when he once swore to himself to never do this to anyone ever again.

“You’re…” Your voice breaks and you wipe your tears, as though it would change anything. “You’re a douchebag.”

The tension in his shoulders leaves him, and regret starts sinking in.

Robin thought that of him before she got to know him, before she became his friend. He changed, even more so when he found her.

Has her death made him turn back around?

Has it changed him this much?

She would be disappointed, she would kick his ass for what he did just now, for what he said, for how he made you feel, for making you cry when all you wanted was to help. He knew where it would hurt the most and he chose to hit you there exactly, not caring about what it would do to you.

You tear your eyes away from him, sniffling quietly as you walk away from him, leaving him in the rain.

His fingers itch, his hand moves forward as though to stop you but he quickly clenches his fist and breaks his eyes away from you, looking down at the muddy ground. He closes his eyes, shutting them tightly as he holds back tears. His heart is aching more than ever.

He knows you’re right, deep down he knows.

He knows it’s only fair for Eddie and Nancy to leave, he knows it all, he understands it all.

He knows that she would want him to go with them, that she would force him to if she could. He knows she’s gone, he hasn’t felt her presence since the day a bird had sat down on her cross, she is gone and there is no bringing her back, not even if he stays.

But how can he leave when all that is left of her is this?

Everywhere he turns there’s a reminder that she was here, every good memory he has of her would be abandoned and he can’t do it, he just can’t.

With trembling lips and tears now streaming down his cold cheeks, he turns back around, looking at her name on the cross, at the reminder… that she is gone, forever. His knees almost buckle, a sob threatens to rip from his lips but he doesn’t let it, he doesn’t allow himself to break down, even as the sadness and the guilt begins to consume him.

“Robin,” he whispers, shakily. He knows he won’t get an answer, he knows he won’t get the sign that he’s been begging for, he knows he won’t hear her voice calling back to him, the only thing he hears is the rain, the rustling trees and his own heartbeat. He tastes the saltiness of his tears, he tastes the bitterness. “Birdie…”

She is gone and she’s not coming back.

He lost her, and soon he will lose more.

Soon his biggest fear will catch up to him.

Being left behind, being all alone.

It was bound to happen.

Right?

Steve didn’t come out of his room all day.

You haven’t seen him, haven’t heard from him, haven’t heard his voice in the hallway or anywhere else.

He came home shortly after you the night before, you heard him talking to Nancy, heard her asking questions that he didn’t answer. You know she told him that you’re leaving today, told him to pack his bags and be ready by night. It’s getting dark out now, your bags are in the RV, as well as Nancy’s and Eddie’s, along with a box of pictures and other things that they refuse to leave behind.

You are all ready to go, all except for him.

Eddie is giddy, excited to finally hit the road, though you can also see his jumpiness, how he can’t seem to sit still, the anxiety of having to leave Steve behind is eating at him.

Nancy is distracting herself, sitting at the dining table, her guns and knives sprawled across the table, a cloth in her hand as she cleans her weapons.

You’re sitting by the window, looking into blank space. Sadness lingered in you all day, and it didn’t change throughout it. He planted thoughts into your head that you refused to think about or even consider, though now a part of you can’t help but feel anxious because what if… what if there is some truth to it? What if you are being a little too hopeful? What if you are being ignorant and foolish?

You know he was hurt, and that hurt has triggered the anger, anger that he directed at you – he wanted to hurt someone and you were there, the perfect target, you are the reason why his friends are leaving now.

You didn’t mention what you found out last night, not to Eddie nor Nancy. It only really sunk in this morning, when you woke up with a headache after crying yourself to sleep.

You don’t know how he lost her but something tells you that she didn’t go peacefully. He blames himself, you saw it in his eyes.

“We should go soon.” It’s Nancy who breaks the silence in the room, a determined look on her face. You can sense her hesitation, her nervousness. She doesn’t want to go without him, you saw the way her eyes kept flicking to the staircase waiting for him to come walking down the stairs with bags in his hands, he never did. She told him to be ready by 7pm, it’s 8 now.

Eddie told you that Steve said goodbye, that he hugged him and Nancy, and prepared food and snacks for the road. No matter how much they begged and tried to convince him to come with them, it was to no avail. He never planned on leaving, not then, not now.

A part of you wants to try, to go up to his room and talk to him again but you doubt he wants to see you, especially after last night. He hates you, you saw it in his eyes. He won’t change his mind, not for you. He hurt you, but you still don’t want him to stay here, to be alone, to be left behind.

Eddie stops pacing around, he watches Nancy as she gets up from her seat, putting the guns and knives away into her backpack.

“Nance,” Eddie hesitates, looking at her in uncertainty.

She throws her backpack over her shoulder and shrugs at him, trying to look tough, trying to mask the worry on her face.

“He made his choice, he wants to stay. I won’t force him to come with us.” That is all she says before she leaves the room, taking you by surprise with her sudden coldness. She walks out of the house without another word.

Eddie glances at you, taking in the frown on your face, the sadness behind your puffy eyes. He knows that something happened between you and Steve when you followed him out into the rain, last night. He suspects that he threw unkind words at you – you didn’t tell him anything, neither did Steve but Eddie knows it crashed between you.

Now all he sees is hesitation in your eyes, despite the hurt written across your face. He can tell you don’t want to leave him behind. Eddie noticed that you had developed some kind of attachment to Steve, despite his constant cold shoulder.

You keep your eyes trained on the ground, blinking rapidly as you get up, not moving away from the window just yet though.

Eddie sighs, he walks over to the desk by the window, opening one of the drawers, he picks out a map he kept hidden, a copy of the one already in the RV. It’s marked up just like the other one, the town in California circled in a red color. He carries it over to the dining table, “in case he changes his mind,” he tells you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you look between him and the map, “I thought you didn’t have a copy?”

He makes his way over to you, a small smile grazing his lips, he places his palm on your shoulder, “guess I lied a little.” His brown eyes are sad, not matching the smile at all. He squeezes you, nodding softly before he steps away, looking around one more time, even though he’s done it a few times already today. “I’ll be outside.”

“Yeah…”

He closes the door behind him, leaving you by yourself.

You can’t say that you’re surprised by their sudden decision to leave today, but then again, they have been waiting for this moment for a long time. They’ve been waiting for it for a year, waiting for him to be ready. He never will be.

You take a deep breath as you look around the house you found shelter in, found new friends in. You wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t follow him that day. You tug your jacket closer to your body, gripping it tightly.

You don’t want to leave without him.

But you are the last person to change his mind.

You have known him for a few days only and yet he managed to crawl under your skin. You got used to him, despite his rough demeanor, despite yesterday.

You make your way upstairs, you can’t leave without saying goodbye.

But when you knock on his door, he doesn’t respond or open the door – not that you expected him to. You lean against the door frame, keeping your knuckle against the wooden door.

“Steve?” You whisper shakily, hoping to hear his voice. “I uh… I just wanted to thank you, for letting me stay, I know you didn’t want to but still… thank you.”

You hear nothing on the other side, no shuffling, no footsteps, no sighs, nothing.

A sigh falls from your lips, the sadness in you spreading further.

“Despite everything, it was nice meeting you… Goodbye Steve.”

You finally pull away from the wood, looking at the door one last moment before you head back downstairs and grab the backpack you left on the floor. You look around the house one last time and you can’t help but imagine him walking downstairs, where his friends once were, and see them all gone. Just himself and the ghost of what once was and never will be again.

It hurts to leave him behind, and you can’t even imagine how Nancy and Eddie feel. You have your answer once you head out and towards the back where you see Eddie wiping his cheek away while making sure the tires are all set, and how Nancy has her back towards the two of you, and her legs are slightly shaking as she looks at stuff into her weapon bag.

They are hurt from leaving him behind, way more than you are. You had to reassure them that even in loneliness, Steve will be safe. He is inside a community, guarded even if little, but he is still with people and in safety.

“Okay ladies, I think we are good to go.” Eddie says finally and you head over to Nancy, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Come on, Nance.” You see her looking at the distance, towards the same way you followed Steve the night before. You see her gulp tightly, nodding at you before turning around and heading inside the RV first. You turn to see Eddie giving you a small comforting smile as he looks at the house one last time.

He sighs as he turns towards you, bowing down as he points with his arm towards the open door of the RV. You can only smile so little at the theatrics, and you take a deep breath before you step inside, surprised to see just how well equipped it is. Two big seats at the front, driver and passenger, then followed by counters on the side, and then a couch on the other. A pull out couch. Then at the end of the kitchen counter sat a small booth, with a small table in the middle.

You see there is a small little hallway, which has the door to the toilet, and then at the very back end you can see the big double bed. It has a sliding door to close it from everyone else if needed. You are amazed by it, a small and nice motorhome for the three of you. Eddie enters the RV as Nancy starts the vehicle. He closes the door behind him and he wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“You like it? I installed the pull out couch myself. We have enough gas till the next possible gas station, and hopefully there’s still some left, so we need to make sure to not run out before that.” Nance only nods as you look up and open the bag cupboard at the top of the couch, putting your bag inside as well as Eddie’s and hers. You close it and you three hear the RV coming to life finally.

“Good job Eddie.” Nancy finally smiles his way, and Eddie puffs out his chest as he sits in the passenger’s seat, pulling the map out of the glove compartment in front of him. He had marked down all possible places they could stop at to look for more food and gas. Even toiletries. He also marked all possible gas stations, and you realize they had been planning this for a very long time.

“Okay… goodbye Hawkins you piece of shit.” Eddie says, making you hum as you take a seat on the couch. Your body suddenly sways as the RV starts to move slowly, and the excitement starts to come back to you as well as the fear of what you might encounter. You are going to your family. You are going to find your family and you will be safer this time. You have people around you, armed and willing to protect you as much as you would protect them. You won’t sleep in the mud, looking for cover under the cup of the trees. You will be sleeping either on a nice couch, or the bed whenever available.

You see how Nancy turns the lights on and off quickly, just enough to mark her way through the trees, not following the main road so no one would stop you all. Your hands were gripping the couch tightly, not wanting to look out the window, not wanting to look back, but you were itching to do so.

It takes time because Nancy is going as slow as possible so the motorhome would not do that much of a sound thanks to the engine. You know that people are already sleeping by now, except for the guards at the front gate, and you are taking the closed off one. The one in all chains.

Once you reach it, Nancy stops the RV right in front of it, Eddie getting up from the passenger’s seat to walk towards the cupboard underneath the sink of the kitchen, taking out some bolt cutters. Your eyes widen as he pulls those out and you turn to look at Nancy.

“Hang on, you are cutting those open– you are going to leave the gate open for all the community inside here!” Nancy sighs at your outburst and you hear the clanking of chains, you turn your head to see Eddie holding a new pair in his hands and a lock.

“We are not that reckless and selfish. It took me some time to find a spare pair of chains this size, and a lock, but– It’ll endure.” With those last words, he jumps off the RV, and you rush to the passenger seat to see him get into action, grabbing the cutters and start snapping the chains away.

You’re biting your lip as you see the metals falling piece by piece. Eddie hesitates for just one second before he snaps open the last chain. He pushes one of the doors open slightly and Nancy turns on the bright lights instantly. You see how he pulls it open even more and you see how there is nothing out there, giving you guys the green light to go. He gives a nod towards the two of you and pushes the first gate open and then the next one.

His eyes widen when one bright light shines your way, the guard light tower pointing your way. The sound of a loud siren blasting suddenly and you realize you’ve been caught. Nancy and you motion Eddie to leave the chain behind, that people will put it back together instead of him.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Nancy curses loudly.

Eddie snaps out of it as he rushes to the doors of the RV, the motorhome starting to move forward as you hear the screams of people, telling you to stop, to turn back, that it’s dangerous out there. The front of the vehicle is out and you’re almost passed the gate when Eddie’s head turns to his left, his panicked face falling as his eyes widen.

“Eddie, get in!” You yell, trying to snap him out, and Nancy groans loudly.

“Munson, I’m stepping the gas whether you get fully inside or not–”

“It’s Steve!” Her eyes widen as well as yours. She doesn’t stop moving, instead slowing down.

You rush towards the window, popping your head out and sure enough, you see him.

He is running fast even with a bag hanging on his back, two duffel bags on each side of his hips, his bat in one hand, the other gripping a flashlight tightly. You hear Eddie egging him on, to keep running because Nancy is not stopping, she can’t. You see the flashlights of people running towards you, right behind Steve, ready to stop you all from stepping into the danger zone.

He can’t feel his limbs anymore from how much he ran, from how dumb it was to not tell the three of you that he had actually packed, leaving the bags in his room. Dumb to tell you that he left to give his last goodbye to Robin’s parents and Robin herself. He spent all day with her. Had breakfast, had lunch, and finally dinner.

He lost track of time, and when he returned to the house, none of you were in it. His heart had crumbled to the floor, but it was just a few minutes late, so if he had any luck, you three were still near. He grabbed everything as fast as he could, rushing into the kitchen to shove one last thing into his duffel bag, and then run out. He ran through the woods with his flashlight, following the broken bushes and the tire trails the vehicle left.

As soon as the RV came into view, the lights from behind him turned on, his panic rising as he didn’t have a chance to even catch a breath. He saw how the officers and the guards started running towards him with their flashlights, and he took off. He ran as fast as his feet could take him, trying not to think of all the weight he was also carrying. He could hear Eddie calling for him, his hand reaching out already for Steve to grab.

He knew that the moment he grabbed Eddie’s hand, Hawkins would be a thing of the past. She would be the past. Everything would be the past. But Robin would have wanted him to move forward. She would have wanted him to keep on going. She would have kicked his ass if she found out he was willing to throw everything away just for her. She would have wanted him to actually live.

So he grabs onto Eddie’s hand.

Eddie pulls tightly with a grunt, using all his strength. Nancy picks up the speed and throws her foot onto the gas when Steve manages to put one foot on the first step of the RV. Eddie drags them both inside, falling onto the floor with Steve.

You are stunned as you stare down at them both. You snap out of it when you feel the cold wind, you run towards the door and shut it, locking it.

Steve is panting, no, heaving as he tries to recover his breath on all fours, staring at the floor. Eddie is sitting up, his hand coming to rest on Steve’s back. The three of you are silent, not having expected Steve to appear out of nowhere at the last minute.

“What… What happened?” Eddie asks, his own breathing heavy from the whole ordeal, and you can just stand over them both, looking as Steve starts to shake, your eyes coming to meet in the middle in worry.

“I– I was saying goodbye– I forgot to tell you, I’m so sorry–” And you can hear the choked up voice, your heart turning with sadness as Eddie’s eyes glistened, looking at his friend. Nancy couldn't stop driving, but she turned her head for just one second to look and you saw how a tear was running down her cheek, her gaze turning back to the road.

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice is low, a whisper and it was the key that opened the gate to Steve’s emotions. Through his heavy breaths, you start hearing his sobs. Choked up sobs that he wanted to swallow down, but it was impossible. Soon, his tears were hitting the floor as he stared down at it, his fingers digging into the carpet as memories flashed in his mind.

He could almost picture Robin waving at him from the gate that people were already closing. He could almost picture how she would be smiling and jumping happily the more the RV drove away. How she would be cheering him on. His cries were loud, knowing there is a part of him that was being left behind, a part that he will never in his life get back.

You could hear the sniffles coming from the driver’s seat as well, quieter than Steve’s cries of pain, and you saw how Eddie was keeping a strong face for both his friends, especially Steve who was still trying to breathe through his sobs.

You just stood there as you waited, wanting to comfort the man that was on the floor, but you knew better. It was a moment that he needed to have with his friends, with his family. You felt your own tears flowing down your cheeks. You didn’t know Robin, but from the cries of your new found friends, you realized she was loved. She was very much loved.

The road ahead was uncertain, but in Steve’s mind, only one little thing resonated, one little voice that he could hear despite the dark clouds inside it, and the screams coming out of his mouth. If he was imagining it, he hoped it would never leave him. He might have gone crazy, but he was so happy to hear her voice, at least one last time.

‘Goodbye, Dingus.’

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk

#the edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet)#chapter three #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #stranger things angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #grumpy x sunshine

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2jihiir0 · 4 months ago

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Forward this to ten friends or you'll have bad luck for the next ten years. 👹💀☠️⚰️💩

#and a demogorgon will visit you tonight #which idk if it’s a bad thing or not you decide #grumpy menace edd #he bites #eddie munson

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rana030 · 5 months ago

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We always get sunshine!reader what about grumpy!reader, huh?

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 9 months ago

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Just something very sweet and fluffy also featuring a grumpy Eddie 🤭🥰

Requests are open 💌

❤️

Eddie had been in a bad mood from the moment he woke up. Not even the lure of a Hellfire Club session could lift his spirits.

Exactly what had made him so moody was something he couldn't pinpoint. Maybe it was to do with the dickhead who blasted pop music most of the night and interrupted his sleep a few times.

Whatever it was, he was acting like a bear with a sore head and he couldn't even see you today to take away some of his grumpiness, seeing you always brightened up his day.

You wouldn't be at school at all today, something with your aunt came up and you possibly had to go out of town for the next couple of days.

At least he could channel some of his mood into the Hellfire session tonight, maybe unleash the group of orcs on the party, a story that he had been planning for a few days.

He gets up and dressed and heads to school, his van is being a pain in the ass and his head is thumping by the time he gets there.

Things weren't any better by lunchtime and he ate his pretzels and even had a bottle of Yoo Hoo (which kinda helped but just a little bit) but it couldn't help him with the fact that he had Mrs O'Donnell's class after lunch, he's pretty sure that the old dragon has it in for him.

He was pouty and very pissed off.

"Dude, wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?" Grant asks which causes Gareth to snicker beside him, one sharp look from Eddie quietens him.

"It's because you know who isn't here today, remember she has some family thing to attend" Jeff shrugs.

"Yeah, thanks, dude. Like I need reminding that I won't see my girl today and I'm fine. Just a long night and a neighbour who's obsessed with playing endlessly shitty pop music" he shudders at the memory and the dude singing. Ugh.

"Aww thought you'd be up and dancing to Madonna" Dustin teases and Eddie flicks a pretzel at him, he's more amused than annoyed though, even if he's offended by the very thought.

Then the little shit is smiling at something over Eddie's shoulder and Eddie's heart skips a beat, delight flooding through him.

"Princess!" he beams and wastes no time rushing over to you and dramatically clutching his chest. Not caring one bit about the sneers from Jason and his idiot squad, he doesn't care about his don't fuck with me facade around you, you're the only person that reduces him to mush.

"I've missed thy maiden far too much and almost succumbed to a painful case of grumpiness" you snort and cuddle into him.

"I missed you too Ed's" you wrap your arms around him and feel the tension in his body ease.

"What happened to that family thing you had?" He asks curious and you shrug.

"Yeah turns out my aunt left her douchebag husband last night so she's staying with a friend instead of us for a little bit. She's okay which is the main thing" You cuddle back into his arms needing this hug as much as he does.

"At least the grumpy asshole might cheer up now" Jeff comments but swiftly shuts up when Eddie flips him the bird. At least with his princess here the day is looking infinitely brighter.

❤️

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #grumpy eddie

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unamused-boss · 2 years ago

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Tip Toes

Prompt: "Shut up, you know I'm literally obsessed with you"

Billy Hargrove x Fem Reader

(Billy maybe a little OC) May have some misspelling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all started with a simple question "You free Saturday at 1?". Such a simple question right? What could possibly happen when your boyfriend of 6 months, Billy Hargrove, asks if you're free Saturday afternoon. Well lets start from the beginning right after your shift at the record store...

The chime of the bell at the front door gains your attention, putting on your customer service smile and voice. "Hello welcome to- and it's just you." Your voice going somewhat flat after seeing it was your boyfriend and not a customer.

"Wow, do you welcome all your favorite customers like that?" Billy grinned at you.

"What do you want?" You said to him, "You know I don't get off till 6:45." You lean your body over the counter and crossing your arms under your chest to be closer to Billy. Billy, having the same grin on his face that he walked in with, does the same motion as you. In a result your noses almost touching. You giggle at his antics.

"Well. I was wondering if you were free Saturday at 1?" Billy asked.

"Why?"

"Cause your pretty and I wanna take you out" Billy said like that was reason enough.

"Why?" Now you got playful.

"Cause it's a surprise." Billy said.

"Why?"

"Can you go Saturday or not?" He laughed.

"Yes I can go Billy, I would love to." You smiled. Billy leaned forward an gave you a smooch on your lips. You giggled into the kiss as he parted ways from your lips.

"Okay, Saturday at 1. Just look pretty like you always do." He said making his way out of the store. Now you get to be giddy till this Saturday when your date is.

Saturday, current time-12:55

You have been meticulously been putting yourself together for you date. Your make had warm tones and put delicately onto your face to enhance your already pretty features. Your outfit was put together perfectly in the case of being outside, going to a cute restaurant, or the need for back seat action for after.

You stared at the clock on your bedside as the hour changed to 1:00. At that moment the doorbell rung through the house. You jump up from your bed and down your stairs to the door, running past your mom to the door to open it.

"I got it!" You yelled.

"Alright, honey." Your mom laughed. You opened the door to see your dashing boyfriend. With his usual unbuttoned shirt that showed off his chest and jeans that fit him right. Billy smiled when he saw you.

"Hello gorgeous."

"Hey handsome." You said to Billy. "Bye mom!" You shouted to your mom as you shut the door leaving. Making your way to Billy's car, he opened the door for you to get in.

"Wow, doing all the stops are we." You joked.

"Just get in sweetheart." Which you did. Then Billy got into the drivers seat. And the date has begun. The short drive you thought that was going to be taken turned into a two hour drive to Indianapolis. You started looking out to all the tall buildings, "Billy what are we doing?" You asked as you still looked out at the city.

"Don't worry pretty girl, I know what I'm doing." Was all Billy answered with. It was another twenty minutes till Billy parked that car in a parking garage. He took my hand. We walked for what felt like five minutes; we then arrived to a familiar building, 'well at least for me.'

"Billy, why are we at the International Indianapolis Museum?" You looked to him. Billy just smiled to you.

"Because your super amazing boyfriend got two tickets for the limited time art expedition for his sweet girlfriend that he loves." He said, flashing two tickets to you. You stared wide eyed at him, mouth gaped an all. You've been talking his ear off about the exposition. Painting from not only the British museum is here but the Louve as well, only for two weeks here in Indianapolis. You couldn't afford ticket so you thought it was out the window. But some how your boyfriend got you tickets.

"You got us tickets." You said.

"Yep."

To go to a museum?"

"Yes I did."

"But you hate museums?!" You are flabbergasted by this.

"Yes, but I love you." Billy smiled, " I'm gonna have ten hour shifts for a while but it's worth it." Putting his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him. Your chests meet: Billy is just smiling down to you.

"But-" You were cut off.

"Shut up, I'm literally obsessed with you." Billy stated, holding you close. "You are the only girl I wanna be with, and the only girl that stand my bullshit." You laughed at him hugging him close to you.

"Okay, let's go in lover boy." You both made your way to the front, Billy giving the tickets to the man in the booth. With the transaction down with you made your way in.

The colors blasted into your face. Never letting Billy's hand go, dragging him from one painting to another. Whispering small notes and facts about each painting to him. Billy letting you do it with a smile on his face. You and Billy made it to a hall of art pieces. They were gorgeous. The pinks were bright, the purples, the yellows... the red. Everything was perfect. Faint classical music played in the back. What also surprised you was what small number of people were here. Well it was the last day of the expo, so it made since. You and Billy did kinda stick out a bit; being that you guys weren't as well dressed as the others. Nothing mattered though. You were with Billy holding his hand the entire time, no one else existing to either of you. In front of you, for real life, was The Kiss by Gustav Klim. You just stared ahead at the piece, unknown to you was that Billy was staring at you.

"Isn't she beautiful." You simply said.

"Yeah, you are." Billy answered. You look to him with wide eyes; a smiled then forms on your face. You realize that it was only you and Billy in the exhibit room now. You felt Billy lean back a bit dragging you with him, taking your other hand within his.

"Okay do it." He said with no context.

"What?" You asked.

"Really." He laughed, "You dance on my feet, now do it I find it cute."

"Okay bossy." In your doc martins you step onto his motorcycle boots, even on his feet you were still kinda on your tiptoes. You both gently swaying to the music that played over head. Nothing mattered to either of you except for right now. The light were dim but you both could still see each other. Your hand in his the other on his shoulder; with his hand also in yours as for the other is on your hip. Billy guided you both across the floor of the museum following the melody. You both just stared at each other, lovingly. Billy leaned toward you kissing your cheek softly then moving to your lips. This wasn't your first kiss with Billy, obviously, but this was one your few kisses like this. Nothing but soft. passion that you hold for each other. Your kiss felt like the universe was yours, nothing else could ruin this. Billy separated from the kiss.

"I love you." He said sweetly.

"I love you too." You smiled. Stepping of his boots, locking your hand with his and continuing you way through the museum. After a few more expo rooms and a few sculpture pieces, you and Billy made your way outside. Billy's watch reading 5:30.

"So what are we doing now?" You asked.

"We, my sweet girl, are going to the best restaurant in all of Indianapolis." Billy stated walking with you in hand down the street.

"Really?" You were shocked.

"Yeah we're going to Burger King." You laughed at his response. "Hey we are on a budget from the point out." He joked back at you.

"Alright, whatever you say lover boy." You wrap yourself around his arm and continue your prefect night with you perfect boyfriend. Laughing and kissing the night away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope you enjoyed!

Also I will start working on Part three of California Dreaming soon!

@capitanostella

@maackiimoo

@mystargirl-interlude

@bbarbiegurll

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afewproblems · 2 years ago

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I just got a tattoo done and was thinking about all of the before and after care instructions they gave me and how older Eddie would have possibly reacted to the list of things he would need to do or items to purchase for a new addition to his sleeve.

The artist reaches out to Eddie years after corroded coffin makes it big. She's fairly well known as a minor celebrity herself in the tattoo and body modification space in LA, so when she contacts Eddie's agent about offering a new piece for his eclectic sleeve he checks out her portfolio and is immediately sold.

She sends him the idea and he signs off on it right away and before they know it, he and Steve are on a plane from Chicago to Los Angeles.

It isn't until it's done, and the second skin is placed over the piece, smoothed out to ensure no bubbling, that Eddie balks at the secondary list of steps he needs to take.

The artist taps out the instruction email on her phone, hitting send with a dimpled grin before reaching out to shake his hand and Steve's, thanking them for being such great new clients. She asks Steve if he would be interested in a piece at some point, to which he smiles politely and shakes his head.

Steve has never been into tattoos for himself, though he's always gone to great lengths to admire and kiss each piece on Eddie's body.

Eddie half listens as they continue to chat, pulling out his phone to review the email she sent him.

"Ensure that you leave the second skin on for three to five days and upon its removal (see removal instructions on page two)..."

Eddie has to stop himself from rolling his eyes right then and there. It's not as though this is his first ever tattoo, he's been getting ink since before this girl was even born.

He winces at the thought, reminding himself that just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know her shit, and she clearly does. He shakes his head and nods when Steve says goodbye for them and they make their way to the elevator.

"Okay, what's with the face?" Steve asks quietly as soon as the door closes.

Eddie sighs and folds his arms over his chest, careful not to bump the now tender area on his forearm.

"You look like you swallowed a lemon, spill," he reaches out for Eddie's shoulder, his warm hazel eyes, now lined with gentle wrinkles at the edges search his face, "do you not like it?"

Eddie barks out a laugh, "it's probably one of the nicest ones in the whole collection, no Stevie, it's not that".

Steve raises his eyebrow now and just looks at Eddie until the elevator dings and the doors open before them.

God Dammit.

He loves and hates this ability, that Steve knows Eddie will crack eventually if he just waits long enough.

"Fine!" Eddie sighs as they make their way back to the hotel.

It's gorgeous out, nothing like the weather back home right now, the palm trees lining the streets and the twinkling fairy lights on every corner gives the area an almost magical feel, despite the bustling pedestrians packing the sidewalks.

"It's a little weird all the instructions," Eddie says eventually. He speaks slowly, doing his best to articulate exactly what he feels.

Steve nods, though the confused pinch between his brow doesn't quite fade.

"And I've been getting these done since it eighties, Steve, it's just a little--"

Eddie growls and tugs on his hair in frustration, "I don't want to be shitty".

Steve shrugs and loops his arm around Eddie's small waist, tugging him closer.

"Be shitty, you know I love it," he grins and lifts his free hand to remove Eddie's from his hair, "what about the instructions made you upset?"

"It's like I'm being talked down to," Eddie says with a frown, "I got a stick and poke from Jeff in '84 that was totally fine with out any of this," he lifts his arm now to show off the shiny second skin to Steve who nods.

"And which one was that again?" Steve asks, there's a leading lilt to his voice that makes Eddie want to sit on the sidewalk.

He huffs out a low whine, "Steve--"

"Eddie," Steve answers with a soft smile.

And Eddie knows he's lost this argument, if you could even call it that, because the bats that Jeff did for him all the way back in '84, have since been covered up.

Over the years they had morphed into six blobs of bluish grey on the back of his forearm that could no longer be distinguishable as bats, and after being asked about his 'abstract' tattoos by an interviewer a few years back, he had made the decision to get them covered.

And it could have been any number of things that lead to the eventual fading and blobification of his bats, but Eddie figured it was probably because they had almost immediately gotten infected a few days after Jeff had finished them in his parents garage.

Eddie clears his throat and opens the email on his phone again, taking another look at the list the artist had sent him.

"Fine, you gonna help me take care of this thing Stevie?" Eddie grumbles as they enter the revolving door of the hotel, stepping carefully into the pie shaped section to avoid colliding with the moving entryway.

Steve snorts and lets his hand curl through one of the belt loops on Eddie's jeans, "I think I remember agreeing to something like that, in sickness and health?"

He leans forward and nuzzels his nose into Eddie's ear, "till the end of our days".

#i like the ending but im not sure how well if fits for this little drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #afewproblems writes #tattoos #steddie #older established steddie #steve x eddie #let them be grumpy old men that think they know better than the whippersnappers #these guys were born in the 60s they would probably have this immediate gut reaction #got sappy in the end #but i wanted it #had my own tattoo done this weekend and i was so surprised by the before and aftercare list

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deceptive-daydreams · 2 years ago

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Two - Dainty

W/C: 4.6K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

You need a job, The Bourbon needs a server. The math is there but the owner won't acknowledge it. How will you win over such a crabby man that only sees you as a gnat forcing its way into his space?

A/N: The response I received on the first part fic was so unexpected but I'm so glad everyone liked it!! I can't wait to get deeper into this story

Masterlist

Prev | Next

I’m sorry for running out so fast yesterday.

No. Too forward.

I think we got off on the wrong foot, by we I mean me.

No, not sincere enough.

I just wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly—

“Excuse me, dear?”

Your train of thought was dissolved within seconds as you turned your focus to the older gentleman that had called for your attention. A hum in place of an answer as your brows raised expectantly but ever so friendly awaited his follow up question.

“Can I just squeeze past you to grab that jar of peaches?” He asks, wrinkles around his eyes upturned in perfect harmony with his smile.

“Of course. Yes!” Panicked, you rush to the other side of the aisle, the older man waving you off, insisting that it was ‘quite alright’ while he reached for his beloved peaches.

You’d been bouncing back and forth, up and down between several opening statements to provide Donnie, a sour taste left in your own mouth at the way you left her hanging the day before when she was merely being kind to you. It was something you couldn’t stop, the anxiety eating away at your flesh like bacteria from the fact that you could’ve caused someone to be less than satisfied with their interaction with you, as if you were some kind of service. People pleasing was a disease.

Sometimes the affected party was blind to its symptoms, oblivious to the way their illness consumed them. And that’s why you found yourself purchasing a single pack of gum, eyes large and sorrowful before you were even next in line. Various ways to get the point across were mentally rehearsed and the closer you got to the register, the more you focused on one singular sentence, clinging onto the desire to not stutter or mess it up.

“Hey you’re back!” Donnie greets. “Thought for sure we’d scare you off by now.”

With a wince, you hand her your pathetic excuse of a conversation starter, a pack of spearmint gum with your trembling hand. If she notices she doesn’t bring attention to it, instead she gracefully takes the pack and rings you up.

“N-no, no. I don’t scare that easily.” You try to convince yourself more than her.

You note that the shop is nearly empty once again just after a handful of customers had done their shopping and went on with their day. A few patrons still linger, carefully picking out each item from their weekly grocery list; however, you wouldn’t know they were there if not for the squeak of their carts every few feet as they inched forward.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Donnie respectfully hands back the gum in exchange for your cash. A crinkled five that had seen better days.

For a moment you debate fleeing once again, nerves tingling and breathing becoming shallow before internally reprimanding yourself. You can cry all you damn well please in private but right now you need to stand up to the little voice in your head. “Yeah. Um, I just–I wanted to say I’m sorry for running out so suddenly like that.” It didn’t come out as smooth as you’d planned but you’re hoping it came across as sincere enough. If you could at least look forward to a friendly face at the supermarket every week, well it would be a win.

“Honey, I don’t get offended easily and it seemed like you had places to be.” She waves a dismissive hand in the air at your apology, not unkindly, more so letting you know you didn’t need to be so formal with her. And yet you couldn’t help yourself, an unwanted backstory spilling from your lips almost like second nature. Excuses plucked from the top of your brain.

“I didn’t–I didn’t mean to leave and just not introduce myself. I just got caught up, with moving and all–”

“You don’t owe me an explanation. Just your name and we’ll call it good.” A genuine smile stretches across her face, contagious enough that your lips tug upward as well as you offer your name, a proper introduction this time.

Your shoulders relax ever so slightly, not fully letting your guard down but no longer feeling the need to tense every muscle in your body. It’s then that you realize that this is the only grocery store that you ever found visually appealing, with its darker toned walls and red checkered floors, the lighting not being so fluorescent and in your face, a bit dim even. Which for some may be a flaw but for you it was perfect. You don’t feel so exposed and couldn't be perceived so clearly, the ideal cocktail of a situation for someone so socially anxious.

“I, um, I saw your sign.” You gesture to the letters reading ‘help wanted’ posted against the window. If you could land a decent job then maybe living wouldn’t feel so terrifying. Then again, several things would come into factor other than just your means of income.

Donnie’s expression turns empathetic and you can feel your breath hitch in anticipation for a brutal rejection. To be told that you had it all wrong, that you were too unprofessional and too meek and that your help was most definitely not wanted here, that you shouldn’t have even stepped foot in this town to begin with. The five stages of grief practically take over in mourning over the loss of a potential job.

“I’m real sorry but we already filled the position. Tom was supposed to take that down around two weeks ago.” She sounds irritated at the mention of what you assumed to be her coworker. “Can’t rely on anyone.” She sighs, striding over to the window and pulling the sign from its temporary home only to abandon it behind the shelf that displayed several boxes of cigarettes.

“Oh I’m–”

Before you can even begin to apologize for something completely out of your control, Donnie’s eyes light up at something, or rather, someone behind you.

“Hey, Ed! Isn’t The Bourbon hiring?”

All she receives in return is silence and when you dare to peek over your shoulder behind you, you briefly meet the eyes of the neighbor you had the displeasure of running into twice the day before. Today he fronts with a black leather jacket and the same black jeans with rips in the knees. The only thing noticeably different is the chain now dangling at his side and the band shirt you’re unable to read, the letters obscured from your view. Oh, and a few chunky rings decorating his hand that should make him look tacky as hell but somehow they pull the look together.

“I dunno, who’s asking?” He counters, brow raised as he glances at you once more. You’d barely even spoken a few words to the guy and he was acting as if you committed the most heinous act against him.

“Ed.” Donnie warns.

“Don, she wouldn’t last a day.”

You were beginning to think that this so-called ‘Ed’ was going to turn into an issue…fast. Who was he to judge a stranger who he knew absolutely nothing about. His audacity startled you and while you should step in and defend yourself, you can’t bring yourself to do it, tongue tied in every literal sense, words caught in the back of your throat like they were physical refrigerator magnets lodged in place.

“You don’t know that!” She grins at him, a grin that silently says ‘watch it’. “Honey, you got any work experience?” Attention shifting to you, you felt as if you were burdening two people who had everything figured out in their quaint little lives, guilt plaguing your mind at the fact that you’d shaken things up between what seemed to be good friends or maybe even just well acquainted individuals.

“I–uh–yes. Yes, I’ve worked at the–at the library and-and–”

“The library?” Ed questions. You didn’t dare answer, knowing very well he wasn’t seeking a response. “What good would that do me in a bar?”

“Well I–”

“Think The Bourbon’s too rowdy for someone like you.” He continues, only fueling your inner rage as well as pricking the embarrassment that held a permanent home within you, your cheeks flushing hot and palms becoming clammy.

“I’ve also worked at a diner. Back home.” Somehow you find a voice, one that isn’t shaky and timid but rather more calm and collected regardless of the absolute fear that pounded in your heart.

Both Donnie and Ed stare, seconds passing that only feel like lightyears. Ed still seems bored beyond comprehension, opening and shutting his wallet as he narrows his big brown eyes. You aren’t sure what to do next, if you should make a dramatic exit once again or continue proving yourself to some stranger who had no business even making you do such a thing in the first place.

“A diner.”

He says it like a statement rather than a question, as if to mock and discredit you.

Tears are not an option, tears are not an option.

“See she’s got experience!” Donnie attempts to mend the situation, acting as an unofficial moderator.

“Don, no offense but I came here to buy the usual, not recruit.” Some cash is slapped onto the counter, his patience clearly wearing thin by the way he begs with his eyes. Donnie’s tolerance appears to be at a dangerously low level based on the glare she forces upon him. You were beyond unprepared to witness a standoff in the middle of the supermarket at 5:00 PM on a Wednesday.

“Thought you were desperate for a server.”

There’s some bite behind her words, focus never wavering, the two seeming to have a telepathic conversation right before your eyes until Ed breaks the stillness in the air.

“Not in the slightest. Can I have my shit now?”

Donnie’s sigh lets you know Ed has won and in the process, drained her energy. Reluctantly, she snatches the cash from the counter and opens the register before grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the shelf behind her and handing them to him along with his change, an unfriendly exchange. It doesn’t seem to bother him as he clutches the cash and the pack in his hand, not even sparing you another glance on his way out.

Clearing your throat, you pull Donnie’s attention away from the insufferable man now making his way down the cobblestone sidewalk outside. “It’s okay. I’m sure other places are hiring.”

She rolls her eyes and you know it’s not meant for you but you can’t shake the paranoia that screams that she might be fed up with you as well. “Don’t mind Eddie. He acts like a hardass but he’ll come around.”

So his name is Eddie. You only nod in response, unsure of where to steer the conversation from here.

“He’s like a scary dog. He’ll roll over for the right people. So if he doesn’t take to you, don’t take it personally.” She advises.

“Yeah.” You whisper.

You were so going to take it personally.

–

As it turns out, no one in Knife’s Edge was hiring, not a single soul seeking a random girl from out of town who urgently needed a job. Not that you could blame them, they had it all figured out. Many of the shops were owned by families thus being run by said families and not requiring the additional expense that would come with hiring another person. And those that did seem to hire outside of their family had already filled in every necessary position.

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. This is what you get for uprooting your life and sticking it somewhere it probably didn’t belong.

And now you were moping along the cobblestone, trying to figure out how to pay the bills, working out how much of your savings you could survive off of until you’d run out. Then The Bourbon came into view. Almost like it wanted you to see it, the beaming red lights spelling out its name specifically for you to see. Mainly because it was the only place you knew to be hiring despite what Ed–or–Eddie–whatever his name was, had said in his unpleasant remarks from earlier. It seemed to be your only shot at employment.

The bar had a few neon signs flashing in the window, one being the very obvious ‘open’ sign and then of course one that read ‘happy hour’ with a margarita. The rest appeared to be different beers they might have on tap. It didn’t look like anything fancy but didn’t seem like a hole in the wall either. The exterior was paneled in wood just like almost every other building in the area, giving it a cabin feel without actually being a cabin.

Dread settled in the pit of your stomach from just staring at the place so if you were going to act, it needed to be now, before said dread morphed into pure panic. This was going to determine your foreseeable future, if you couldn’t land this job then you might as well toss yourself right back down that mountain with no money and no plan, right back to square one.

The door was heavy, built out of metal and a bell ringing just above, notifying any staff and patrons of your presence which you could do without but you had to push yourself. If they were staring, your gaze was glued to the ground and you didn’t notice, too occupied in rehearsing an improvised script in your head. Some kind of rock or metal song blasted through the bar and you weren’t sure if it was overstimulating or comforting. Your initial thought was that for being in a small town, they would be inclined to play country music so it only relieved you that your possible future workplace wouldn’t be subjecting you to the unbearable twang you just couldn’t seem to stand. You’d endure it when all was said and done but it was appreciated that it was one less nuisance in your life.

It was a standard bar, the atmosphere mellow with dull lighting and a haziness smelling of tobacco swirling throughout the room. What immediately drew you in was the obvious game of bingo, suddenly shifting what was a designated spot for happy hour and a cheap therapy session with the bartender into a retirement home full of seniors. A man that looked to be in his fifties sat on a stool on the tiny stage in the corner, calling out numbers, which elicited a few victory yells from those who had obviously been having better luck.

However odd the scene may be, several senior citizens occupying the tables of a bar at happy hour, business still seemed to be booming considering that it was a weekday. Aside from the group of elderly yet energetic individuals, there were also what looked to be the regulars perched on their assigned stools at the actual bar. They paid no mind to the intense game happening behind them, sipping away at their beers and mixed drinks leisurely.

A vacant seat called to you, two more on each side guaranteeing that you could sit comfortably without awkwardly scooting in next to someone and disturbing their possible winding down time, no doubt trying to blow off some steam after work. That’s why people came to bars, right? It was lost on you, this wasn’t your scene and if you’re truthful, you’re not even sure you should be here begging for a job in the first place. That Ed guy clearly didn’t take a liking to you and though you didn’t exactly have any knowledge on his role within The Bourbon, he seemed like he had a say in the day to day operations just based on the tiny snippets of information you picked up on. Hopefully someone with the same level of authority would be working now and actually respect you as a person enough to at least give you a chance.

Playing it cool—as cool as one could be with constant nagging thoughts and shot nerves, you decide to plant yourself down on the stool, the worn leather material partially squeaking in protest as you wiggle into a comfortable enough position, setting your bag in your lap and clutching it in paranoia. A glance from the left to the right and back to the left lets you know that no one seems to mind your presence though you still close in on yourself regardless, taking up the least amount of space possible.

The bartender, a man maybe in his early twenties who had short dark hair seems preoccupied as he shakes a drink while balancing a conversation with another man at the end of the bar, the two laughing every other sentence like old friends. And so you wait. Never intentionally draw attention to yourself and never disturb anyone else’s night until you find it polite to chime in when the bartender doesn’t seem as busy. Even then, he doesn’t hear your small ‘excuse me’ every time he rushes by onto his next task.

A sad little ghost settled among lively customers, you don’t seek pity, only a glance your way so that you could get this over with and either face rejection or anxiously resume the job search. Though no one seems to bother looking your way, you can’t help the heat traveling to your cheeks in pure humiliation, the fact that you’re the only thing out of place weighing heavily on your mind. More celebratory howls and yells sound from behind you, the room erupting into laughter shortly after from a joke you didn’t care to understand. Even a few select chuckles are heard from the men scattered along the bar.

“Do you just not listen?”

A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts, forcing you to peek up from where your focus remained on the bartop, where moments before you’d seemed entranced by the surface. In reality you were running in circles in your head, hoping to make sense of your current situation. Through your lashes you saw him. Ed. Or Eddie. You didn’t put much effort into feeling too bad for not remembering his actual name, especially when he’d never even had the decency to ask for yours. His leather jacket was absent from his torso, now only showing off a plain black t-shirt that also allowed you a view of various tattoos scattered along his arms. You were first drawn to the faded bats on his forearm before becoming puzzled by what seemed to be some kind of a doodle on his inner bicep, not a very good one at that. And then you remembered he’d asked you a question.

“I’m not allowed to have a drink?” You ask innocently. Genuine innocence. No sarcasm. You weren’t brave enough for that.

“Only if you’re not here to also beg for a job.” He grumbles. A man a few stools over gestures down for another round and in response, Eddie nods coolly. With a certain kind of smoothness, he pulls a new glass out before slamming it down on the counter. “If you are, the answer is still no.” The way he quickly pours liquor into the shaker seems so effortless, measurements probably burned into his brain that allow for more efficiency on busy nights.

“Can I at least speak to someone in charge?” You do your best to keep your voice steady and unwavering in the presence of someone with infinitely more confidence than you, his eye contact never breaking.

“You’re lookin’ at him, doll.”

His voice drips with his signature condescending tone, the corner of his mouth pulled up slightly in a smirk. One that tells you that you’ve hit a dead end.

“You—oh.” Like an idiot, you swallowed any words that bubbled in your throat, unable to find it within yourself to at least come up with a snarky comeback.

“We’re not hiring.”

“That-that’s not what Donnie said.” Lousy. The argument just seemed to fall from your tongue involuntarily, not much thought put behind it before coming to fruition. It would only give him more ammo.

His eyes further surveyed you, meticulously analyzing your every move, every twitch of every muscle in your face. An unwanted spotlight shining on you, revealing every flaw in your approach to the current conversation. You wanted a job and he wanted nothing to do with you, your last statement only sealing your fate, only giving him more reason to deny your advances.

“Donnie doesn’t work here does she?” Without expression, he begins expertly shaking his concoction, forearms flexing with the movement. He was a character, some kind of figment of your imagination. He had to be. You’d never encountered someone so standoffish, so ill-tempered, especially toward someone he’d never even met before, already passing judgment on you based on seconds of interaction.

Ignoring his rhetorical question, which came off as more of a deterrent than anything, you pursue a fair conversation, a deserving interview at the very least. “Listen, I’m a really hard worker and—“

“And a fast learner right?”

The interruption was unwelcomed though you gave no indication that it was, face set in a straight expression as you processed his uncivil personality. You couldn’t even find it in you to convey shock, your brain malfunctioning upon his words, outdoing himself with every sentence he uttered.

“Well, yes.”

“Of course. And you can multitask too I bet?”

This wasn’t the interview you were hoping for, this was downright degrading.

“If you would just let me talk.” You plead, fingers digging into the wood of the bartop.

“Listen, kid.” The liquid he had been shaking for quite some time is poured into the glass, an amber colored liquor filled to the brim.

Kid?

If you had the guts you would degrade him right back. But you were you and you could only sit and take each hit to your fragile mental state with as much grace as possible. And soon after the tears would come. Not yet, though. Not just yet.

“You look like you’re about to cry and you haven’t even been hired. What makes you think you can handle a full house on a Friday night?” The drink is topped off with an orange twist and a black cherry before he slides it to its awaiting consumer, not a drop spilling over the edge of the glass, clearly a perfected craft that he was proud of.

When he’s met with silence you gather that he thinks he’s won just by the smug look on his face, barely there but still evident nonetheless. That little voice inside your head screams at you to keep pushing, keep bugging him until he has to give in. Even if by pure annoyance. And although you can feel yourself trembling in terror, something urges you to just gulp down the fear and prod at the arrogant man just beyond the bar.

“I work well under pressure, I’m very organized, I’ll clean on my down time…” You begin to list off your abilities and if he wanted to stop listening, the way he glared at you wasn’t convincing you that he was going to.

This time his response is delayed rather than the other way around, suddenly at a loss for words as his large eyes take in your sudden change in demeanor. Your slight assertiveness takes him by surprise, you can tell from his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. It’s all a front for you to at least get one foot in the door but as they say, ‘fake it ‘til you make it’.

“No.” He answers suddenly, sternly. His disinterest is obvious when he pulls out a rag and starts wiping down the counter, no longer letting his gaze fall on you but instead, the droplets he works vigorously to clean up.

If he wants a fight, then a fight he shall receive.

“I’m a team player, I’m super reliable, my time is flexible, if you need me in a pinch consider it done–”

“Do you understand social cues?”

Ouch. If you had an inflated ego it would’ve surely been destroyed by now but you were already working with close to nothing.

“Yes.” You reply, not a trace of sarcasm, only an honest answer.

“So I think by now you’d understand. We. Are. Not. Hiring.” Each word is enunciated and slathered thickly with bitterness, topped with the intention to send you running like a dog with its tail tucked in between its legs.

What he doesn’t know is that your soft spoken voice and bashful exterior isn’t all there is to you and that deep down, if you wanted something, you were stubborn and able to manipulate the situation should it be required in the most dire of situations. Whether it would work on him seeing as he was also just as stubborn, if not more, you weren’t sure yet.

“Are you turning me away because I’m a woman?”

The pure horror in his eyes almost makes you chuckle because now you know you have the upper hand and had anyone overheard, they would probably question their beloved local bartender’s work ethic.

“I mean–not that I’m accusing you…” You were definitely accusing. “I just don’t see any other women working and–”

It doesn’t have the effect you’re hoping for as he leans toward you, forearms resting on the bar, his eyes returning back to their spiteful nature while he taps his clunky rings against the surface in thought.

“I’m turning you away because you don’t belong in a place like this. Things can get rough and you’re…too dainty.” His voice is much more hushed than before but his expression remains serious, without a trace of that stupid smirk.

Dainty? Dainty. Noted.

“What–you don’t think a woman can handle–”

“It’s not about you being a woman.” He seethes. “It’s about the fact that you are dainty. Polite. Shy. I can’t have that when I’ve got a few drunks refusing to leave at 2:00 AM.”

“I know when to hold my own. Especially if it's for a job.” You attempt to convince him.

“What, so you’re just gonna respectfully tell them to leave, then what? These guys get out of hand, I can’t be babysitting you, I’ve got a business to run.” He reasons, straightening his posture, conversation already forgotten as he starts to turn away before you speak up again.

“At least let me prove you wrong before you dismiss me.” You quietly demand, hands clasped in front of you. “Think I can handle a group of senior citizens.” You motion to the intense bingo game still going strong behind you.

With a roll of his eyes, he seems to ponder his thoughts, bouncing them around in his head. An exasperated sigh escapes his parted lips while a hand drags down his tired face.

“One night. A trial. If you can handle it, fine. You’ve got a job.” He finally declares. “But if I have to stop what I’m doing to babysit you or you so much as–”

“I’ll find another job. Promise.” You nod persuasively, a glimmer in your eyes that he doesn’t miss but quickly ignores.

“Good. Tomorrow night. Eight. And just this one time you can park in the back lot.”

He tries to dismiss himself again but your next question forces him to linger a little bit longer. He was patient, you’d give him that.

“Wait–what, what’s the dress code?” You ask sheepishly, a contrast to the business woman you’d molded into just seconds before.

He does a once over, as if to judge your fashion choices but what he ends the conversation with only leads you to think that he favors one word way too much.

“Casual. Nothing too dainty.”

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiemunson95 @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #bartender!eddie #bartender!eddie munson #grumpy!eddie #grumpy!eddie munson

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rip-quizilla · 1 year ago

Text

Polyjamourous

Eddie x GN!Reader

Description: You get a job at the record store, where you terrorize Eddie with so many different genres of music that he gets whiplash, but your energy is adorable so he's instantly soft for you.

Tags: big grumpy/sunshine trope here, fluff, workplace relationship (kind of), outgoing!reader, Hannah putting her liked songs on shuffle and using them here shamelessly, no physical description of reader other than hinting that they have a glorious gyatt that Eddie can't help but stare at.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: I didn't coin the term "polyjamourous"! I saw it in a TikTok by Viktor Fellbrink. Does it describe me perfectly though? Absolutely.

🎧🎧🎧

When Eddie had interviewed you for a job at the record store downtown, one of the first questions he’d asked was about your taste in music. Your response had caught him so off guard that he couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“I’m polyjamourous.” you’d said.

Eddie had blinked a couple of times, a snorted laugh jumping from his throat. “Polyjamorous…” he’d repeated, an amused grin ticking up the corner of his mouth. “That’s one I have not heard before.”

You had shrugged, smiling the same way you’d been smiling throughout the entire interview. “I listen to a little bit of everything, I like pretty much all music.”

What Eddie had expected from that was mostly pop, maybe a classic rock hit here and there. Judging by the ripped jeans and Doc Martens you were wearing the day of your interview, he suspected there may have been an emo/alt rock phase in your history so maybe some Paramore or MCR.

What he hadn’t been expecting was the fact that when you said you liked all music, you meant all music.

A month into working with you, and he already dreaded the days that you’d signed your name on the list entitled “Aux Cord Dibs” that sat on a tattered clipboard under the counter. The first hour of your shuffled liked songs on Spotify, and Eddie already had whiplash.

The songs that played (in order) were:

Satisfied- The Broadway Cast of Hamilton

Raise Hell- Brandi Carlile

The Offering- Sleep Token

Magical- Ed Sheeran

Dream a Little Dream of Me- Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

Just to name a few.

Not only were you completely unashamed that the first song to pop up under your aux cord time was a fucking show tune, but you knew every word. You sang, rapped- acted- every word.

Eddie was now absolutely sure that you had had an emo phase, because this meant you were also a theater kid (same as him, but he wasn’t about to admit that to you) and in Eddie’s experience, most theater kids were also emo kids in some way, shape, or form.

“How much coffee did you drink this morning?” he’d muttered once you’d finished your one-woman show whilst shelving new records.

“No coffee, this is all natural.” You’d said that with a grin so wide, it was obvious to him that you knew how obnoxious that sounded and you were taking it in stride.

“You’re just the Energizer bunny… naturally?”

Somehow, you grinned wider. “Yes!”

You can imagine how terrified Eddie was when you pulled a Celcius out of your bag an hour later. What happens when you give an energy drink to a person with natural energy?

You get impromptu dance breaks.

Eddie had been boxing up an online order when out of the corner of his eye, he saw your oversized sweatered form bouncing around between aisles to the beat of whatever K-Pop bullshit was currently assaulting his speakers.

Wordlessly, his eyes drifted to the monitor displaying the security camera feed where he found a full view of your hopping, stepping, and jumping to the bouncy rhythm of a Korean song with random English words sprinkled in. The grainy feed from the camera even picked up the subtle motion of your lips moving, and Eddie’s lips couldn’t help but twist into an amused little smile when he realized that must mean you were even trying to lip sync to the words, and he might be wrong but he was pretty sure you didn’t speak Korean.

His shoulders shook, silently chuckling at your antics until the music slowed down in tempo. Your hips began to move in slow, pronounced circles, sending the rest of your body rolling with the momentum. Eddie knew you didn’t mean to turn him on with the way your hips were moving… but you had an ass that shook when you walked, much less when you were actually wiggling your hips around. It wasn’t a you problem that was making Eddie’s eyes bug out of his skull and glue themselves to the screen; it was definitely an Eddie problem.

He had to keep it professional; Eddie was a shift manager, and while he wasn’t technically your boss, that was a gray area delicate enough that he didn’t plan on rushing into anything risky. The last thing he should be doing was ogling you on the security camera like a fucking creep. So, he made a point to pay attention to literally anything else whenever you started dancing around the store like some sort of coked-up cheerleader.

After a few shifts with Eddie, you started to notice that he was pointedly ignoring your antics- which made forcing him to pay attention all the more entertaining. The job could be boring on slow days, so this was how you entertained yourself- annoying the shit out of Eddie Munson.

Eddie: “If I hear one more show tune, I’m commandeering the aux cord.”

You: Proceeds to belt all three parts of Sincerely Me from Dear Evan Hansen, complete with choreography.

Eddie: “Is there any metal on this playlist? Just one song? I need a breather…”

You: Introduces Eddie to Babymetal.

One day, you even forced Eddie to suffer through Lizzo. That was funny as all hell, if you’d ever seen it.

“I feel like I’m walking through a Forever 21.” He’d grumbled as you cheekily shimmied your shoulders at him and mimed a toss of your hair for good measure.

“First of all,” you laughed, “I’m impressed you know what Forever 21 is.”

“I have been to a mall, you know.”

“Second,” you continued, “You’re starting to come off as a bit of a music elitist.”

Eddie shook his head, shelving new records from the stack of crates on the floor. “It isn’t a crime to know what I like and don’t like, kid.”

You smirked, reaching wordlessly over to the media center behind the counter and turning up the music. It was empty in the store save for you and Eddie, so the change in volume wouldn’t hurt anyone. Lizzo’s Like a Girl rang out through the speakers, and you made a show of losing yourself to the beat just to spite the metalhead before you.

Eddie sighed, looking up to the ceiling as if God himself could save him from this torment; he couldn’t stop the whisper of a smile from creeping into the corners of his lips. “What did I do to deserve this shit?” he groaned.

Your grin was blazing, infectious in the way you wore it with reckless abandon as you danced from shelf to shelf with one of the crates of records. When the crate was empty, each album carefully nestled in its appropriate place, you set the crate down on the floor right as the chorus started and your hips shook in time with the drop of the beat.

Eddie had been looking out the corner of his eye the whole time, but averted his gaze immediately once you were shaking your ass in the air. Unbeknownst to you, he was doing everything in his power not to stare.

Bouncing as you perked back up, you flashed him a sadistic grin and shrugged. “You just make it so much fun to torture you, sorry.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “That was the emptiest apology I’ve ever heard.” To which you laughed and heartily agreed, launching your whole self into shaking all you had to the beat, even going so far as to plant your foot on the edge of the counter.

You looked more silly than sexy, even Eddie could admit that, but it was your reckless abandon and giant fucking smile that made him break in that moment. You were shaking your ass- was that twerking? Eddie didn’t think it was twerking, but then again, he wasn’t an expert- and singing along to the music with so much energy that Eddie’s smile finally won his face over. He nodded his head to the beat, even shimmied his shoulders a little, and watched you make an adorable fool of yourself.

That was when the door opened, sending a chime through the shop as a very confused Steve and Robin walked through the door just in time to see you shaking your ass in their direction.

As far as you knew, these two were customers, so you swiftly tore your foot from the counter and started to apologize before Steve cut you off with a lopsided grin and a midair brush of his hand.

“Please don’t apologize, because that might be the best first impression you could’ve made on me.” He confidently strode forward, already extending a hand which you happily accepted. Steve had a way of putting people at ease, Eddie had noticed, even if they had been the opposite of “at ease” before he’d entered the scene.

He watched straight-faced as Steve struck up a conversation with you about being friends with Eddie and stopping by to say hello, then proceeded to introduce himself and ask you about yourself with the confidence and coolness that came so easily to people like Steve Harrington. Eddie chewed his lip and felt an unwelcome flare of jealousy in his stomach when you gave Steve the same smile that- up until now- you’d been giving him.

“So that’s the new hire you told us about?” Robin asked, voice low enough that only Eddie could hear.

He nodded, eyes trained on Steve as he said some joke that made you laugh. “Yeeeeeuup.” Eddie drew out the word, lacing passive aggression into every extra syllable.

“I see.” Robin looked at Eddie, arching an eyebrow as she wordlessly assessed him, then slowly looked at you and smiled knowingly. “Well, if you’re gonna make a move, better beat Steve to it.”

Eddie sighed and shook his head, murmuring out the corner of his mouth “Stay. Out of it.” before picking up his crate of records and moving to a different shelf. You were out of sight, but your and Steve’s voices still carried to where he worked.

“...a little bit of everything.” Eddie heard you say, picking up on your conversation as he silently shelved new inventory. “What kind of music do you listen to?”

“Nothing in particular, I just jam to whatever’s on the radio.” Already inwardly cringing at how Steve must be shrugging or tossing his hair or some shit, Eddie eavesdropped inconspicuously. “Compared to a seasoned listener like yourself, I must sound like an idiot. You should make a playlist for me, so I can know what an expert would recommend.”

“Expert?” you snorted, “Oh I’m hardly an expert. Half of what I listen to is garbage, but it’s fun garbage so I’m not ashamed. Eddie’s the expert.”

Eddie’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if you knew he was nearby enough to hear you, but he wasn’t about to miss out on whatever you were about to say about him, so he remained silent and out of sight.

Harrington scoffed. “Expert on metal, sure, but unless you’re into headbanging and screaming, I think he’d be pretty lost-”

“Not true.” you interjected. “He likes some classic rock, a bit of old school jazz- you know I played a song by Bob Dylan one day, and he started rattling off all these facts about the guy?”

Eddie remembered that day. He’d almost told you that he knew all those facts because his mom had loved Bob Dylan, but he thought talking about his dead mom might be a little more personal than you were prepared to get with him so early into knowing him.

“When Eddie hears music he thinks is good, it doesn’t matter what genre it is- he respects it whether it’s his taste or not.” Eddie had long since stopped shelving; he stood stock still, listening with wide eyes as you spoke with more admiration in your voice than Eddie had ever expected to belong to him. “I play a crazy wide range of music when I work with him, and every time a song I really love comes on it’s hard for me to not focus on how he’s reacting to it. It’s like every time, I’m in my head like- will he like this one?”

Steve was quiet for a moment before Eddie heard him reply, “Sounds like you’re hoping you’ll impress him.”

Eddie felt his heart start beating a little faster. Were you?

You giggled a little, and for a moment Eddie’s heart fell when he thought you were laughing at the very insinuation that you might want to impress him.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” he heard you say. “I haven’t known Eddie long, but I’ve always thought he’s an impressive person. It’s hard not to want to impress him back.”

Eddie couldn’t suppress his smile even if he’d wanted to. Sneaking around the shelves where you couldn’t see him, he turned a corner to continue his work as he hummed to himself.

After you’d locked the doors at 8, the two of you were closing down the shop alone as your playlist quietly painted the quiet evening air. You were walking through the store doing your final check while Eddie took inventory, and Eddie had been silently nodding his head to the beat of the music as you came into view of the checkout counter.

“What song is this?”

Your eyes widened, and the eagerness in your gaze made Eddie’s heart just about burst.

“Uh, it’s Chicken by Your Neighbors.” you stuttered, “You like it?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, softly, “it’s good.”

There was that blinding grin again, contagious in how it fed his until it doubled in size. “Yeah, it is.”

A pause settled between the two of you, song lyrics potent in the evening’s silence.

You ain’t got no time to wait

You don’t get what you don’t ask for

“Hey, uhh…” Eddie was quick to grab your attention, and you watched him wide-eyed and expectant. “...feel like getting pizza after this? Surfer Boy doesn’t close ‘til midnight, and I was gonna stop by to see my buddy Argyle after closing anyway, so-”

“Yes!” you agreed, a little more eagerly than you had originally intended to come across. You cleared your throat, “I mean, if it’s no trouble-”

“No trouble at all, it's just down the street, I’ll walk with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You were both grinning like idiots, but neither of you seemed to care. You continued your closing duties, both of you nodding your heads to the beat of the music and enjoying the feelings that, though unspoken and undefined, were currently nestling comfortably into your chest and his.

Taglist: (really just people I have been talking about this to, I hope you like it❤️) @the-unforgivenn, @vintagehellfire, @munson-blurbs, @hellfire--cult, @word-wytch

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x gn!reader #grumpy sunshine trope #eddie munson blurb

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lesservillain · 1 year ago

Text

— i. did you get what you deserve?

summary: the beginning.

cw: season 4 canon divergent, grumpy eddie, medical talks

an: this is a wayne heavy chapter, but i doubt anyone will complain.

Ringing. A very loud ringing. That’s all Eddie can hear.

Something’s pushing on his chest.

The ringing gets louder, until it peaks and starts to fade. Muffled voices all around him, and he can feel his body shifting.

Then it shifts a lot. Ouch, that hurts.

Everything is dark. Or maybe his eyes are closed?

His eyes flutter a bit, but everything is blurry.

There’s some yelling, but it’s too garbled in his ears to make out what’s being said.

It was dark one moment, then suddenly very bright. Like a flash directly in his eye. And then again.

Everything hurts, he notices suddenly. But only because he feels it all slipping away. His body starts to float, suspended in black with a light just above him. Instinctively he swims towards it. It feels like warm sun rays on his cold, cold body.

When he hits the surface, everything starts to hurt again. His eyes open to a dimly lit room. Every part of his body feels heavy. Even moving his head is a challenge. There’s something next to him though, a presence that he can see out of his peripherals. He tries to call out, but there’s something in his mouth, his throat, obstructing his ability to talk. With all he can muster, he lets out a groan through his nose. Whatever is next to him shifts, moving quickly with a screech.

“Ed? Ed, you awake son?!”

“I can help who’s next!”

Feet shuffling beneath you, you clutch your handbag close as you move through the bodies of your classmates. A handsome man about your age with a million dollar smile sits on the other side of the table. He looks at you expectantly as you take the hint, fumbling in your bag for your student ID.

“Sorry,” you mumble as he gives the card once over. He says your name and laughs when you respond with a yes?

“Thank you for coming,” he beams, “We’re happy to see so many people volunteering to help out.” He clicks his pen and copies your name down on a paper. You look him over as he does this. Thick, dark hair styled perfectly, with long lashes to match. His name is Sam, per the Hello my name is sticker on his shirt. He’s cute, you think.

“Yeah,” your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth so it comes out weird. After licking your lips, you continue. “Our teacher told us we could get extra credit. I guess everyone could use it after our last test.”

Nursing school is hard. Even harder when you don’t know anyone in your class. A lot of the girls all went to the surrounding high schools and knew at least one other person in one of their classes. But that wasn’t the case for you.

“I’ve heard some of those classes you all take are no joke,” he laughs, flipping through a stack of papers next to him.”

“I certainly wasn’t laughing.”

He stops his flipping, looking up at you through those thick lashes, his eyes creased at the corners from his smile.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

The question catches you off guard. Was it that obvious?”

“N-no, I’m from up north.” You gesture upward, pointing above you.

“Like Canada?”

Now you’re smiling, “Try Anderson.”

“Oh, jeez,” he shakes his head, “That’s hardly north.”

“More north than here.”

“You got me there.”

He pulls a small stack from his pile, sliding it across the table until it’s in front of you. You look down at it, immediately noticing that a large portion of the top page is blacked out by sharpie. Flipping it over, you see that the second page is pretty much the same, barely any information to be gathered at all from this “info” sheet.

“You look confused,” Sam says in a sarcastic tone.

“Um, just a little,” you sass him back, looking at him with a silent plea for answers.

“Okay, so, this guy here,” he points to the top of the page, finger just above the name Eddie Munson. “He’s not a very…popular guy around this area. I’ve been trying to get someone to take him as their case all morning and everyone’s turned him down.”

Your head tilts, eyes skimming over the paper as he talks. Under his name is an address in Hawkins, but most everything else is blacked out, even his age.

Still, even with the lack of knowledge you’ve hardly ever been one to turn someone down.

“Okay,” you say with a nod.

“Okay?” Sam parrots back, shifting forward excitedly in his seat.

“Yes, I’ll take him.”

“That’s great!”

He grabs his pen and writes your name next to Mr.Munson’s on the paper, before sliding it into a white folder.

Sam pauses for a moment, a hand running through his hair as he looks around. “Hold on,” he says as he stands up, “let me find my lead and I’ll try and get you some more information on him.” He looks into your eyes, then up and down at you. Was he checking you out? Ugh, why did you have to be in your uniform right now?

You stand awkwardly as he leaves, taking the time to flatten the wrinkles in your dress and adjust your flossie. This school was one the only schools who hadn’t gotten with the times, still mandating the Nightingale uniform over scrubs for any female students.

“Okay, so,” Sam tucks some papers into a red folder, “I wasn’t able to get anything too specific to tell you. I guess there’s a lot of hush hush going on with him right now. But, my lead did tell me I could give you this care packet. It’s all stuff you should know how to do, but it’ll give you a hint on what kind of care he’s going to need.”

You take the folder from him, opening it up to peak inside, only for him to place another paper with a card attached on top.

“That paper is for the organization itself. You just have to have the patient or guardian sign when you go over there as proof to get your credit. Oh and,” he points to the card,” that’s my information. Feel free to call me if you, uh, have any questions.”

Suddenly, someone bumps into you. You close the folder quickly and turn around with wide eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” your classmate, Rhonda, apologizes with a wave of her hands as she keeps walking down the table. You breathe in, giving her a nod of acknowledgment before looking at Sam again.

“Okay, um, thank you for everything,” you say, backing up from the table and making your exit. He calls out to you, but your ears are already starting to ring before you can even get to the double doors.

Your feet carry you out of the building and into the hot August air. Sweat immediately beads at your hairline under the unforgiving sun, a most brutal summer that feels like it’s never going to end.

You make a beeline for the parking lot, fumbling with your keys as you unlock your car and immediately begin rolling your windows down to try and let the non-existent breeze cool down your interior. Reaching inside you grab your pack of smokes and lighter from your middle console, lighting one up and feeling immediate relief as the smoke fills your lungs.

The drive to your friend's house is quiet other than the low tune of the radio playing. Tonya’s car isn’t in the driveway, and you say a silent thanks under your breath to have some time alone. You love Tonya, she’s been with you through everything, but you need some time to mentally decompress before dealing with her big personality.

After a quick shower and a bit of rummaging through the fridge for something quick to eat, you sit at the dining room table and start going through the red folder Sam gave to you. The top paper with the signature spots had a section on the top that you hadn’t noticed before where some information had been filled out.

“The patient would like to be seen at…” You see a few time slots printed on the paper starting from 8 am ranging all the way to 5pm, the ladder being the time circled. You suddenly realize Sam never asked you what your availability was, or much of anything really. Not that you asked him anything either.

Five pm was pretty late in the day, and as you kept reading, you noticed that the next section asking for “frequency of visits” had Monday through Friday circled.

This guy wants to be seen every day? You think to yourself. Maybe he doesn’t have anyone to cook for him or something.

Going through the different directional packets doesn’t make you feel much better. Information on post op care, wound disinfection, dressing changes--things you’ve done before, but not by yourself, and certainly not in someone’s home.

Why do you do this to yourself?

The drive to Hawkins isn’t terrible. The “Welcome to Hell” didn’t do anything to settle your nerves, but you persisted.

A lot of closed roads lead you to take some detours, but you’d still be able to see how badly damaged the town was after the earthquake hit them. Businesses, houses, streets, all completely ruined by the way the ground split the town in fours.

You mustered up the courage to ask one of your classmates from here about what happened, and she told you that some serial killer tried to destroy the town by sacrificing teens to the devil. “Oh, okay,” was all you could give as a response. It was hard to tell if she was fucking with you or not, so you just decided to go and see Sam instead.

That turned out to not be a fruitful endeavor either. He seemed to dance around your questions, dodging them by asking you about yourself instead. You left with none of your questions answered other than a start date for your visitations.

The start day is today, a blazing hot Monday. You didn’t have time to change out of your uniform since your professor asked you to stay over to help clean up after labs, clock getting closer and closer to 5pm as you drive down this woodsy road.

A mailbox appears ahead with numbers that match the address given to you. You slow down and turn onto the gravel path, expecting to see a house as you do. Instead the drive continues into the woods, the thick lining of the surrounding trees blocking you from seeing past the brush even with full sun. The gravel crunches under your tires as you keep going down the path, following it up a slight incline before reaching a clearing.

In the center of the clearing is a one story ranch style house, half brick and half light blue paneling. It has a covered front porch, bare except for a small table and a single chair, an overflowing ashtray dead in the center. Well that’ll be good for you.

The house looked brand new, and completely out of place in the middle of the woods. It was almost creepy in the way it contrasts against the trees and dirt, no grass to be found.

That's what it is, you realize. This house feels void of life.

You park your car next to an old gray pick up truck and sit there for a moment. Maybe you could smoke one more cigarette before going in. But what if they heard you coming and wonder why you’re taking so long?

“Fuck it,” you say to yourself, grabbing your supply bag and pushing open the car door.

You keep your head down, watching the dirt stick to your black uniform shoes as you cross the yard to the front porch. You knock on the door, wiping your feet on the welcome mat as best as you could. A pair of dirty work boots sits just outside the door.

There’s movement behind the door that makes your head snap up, taking in a deep breath as you wait for the door to open. A quiet pause is interrupted by the sounds of multiple locks being undone and the door pulling open just enough to make the chain lock taught.

An older gentleman’s wrinkled face makes its appearance in the crack of the door, looking at you up and down. “Can I help you?” He has a slight southern drawl, voice a bit horse as if he had just woken up.

“Y-yes,” you squak, “um, are you Mr.Munson?”

His eye narrows and you see his arm shift behind the wall.

“Depends on who's askin.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m here volunteering with Visiting Angels? I was-“

He cuts you off with your name, asking it as a confirmation of who you are. You nod, “Yes, that’s me!” He looks you up and down. He grunts, shifting a bit until the sound of something hitting the ground slightly catches your attention.

The door closes slightly, and with a click opens fully to reveal the older man in his entirety, standing aside enough for you to walk in, but his eyes scan the area behind you suspiciously.

“Come on in,” he says, closing the door behind you, “I honestly didn’t think anyone was gonna come.”

“Well, I don’t mind the drive,” you say with a tight smile. Mr.Munson stands in place as you let your eyes wander over the house. The smell of fresh paint filled your nostrils, and the new furniture and bare walls gave you the same creepy feeling as the outside of the house. As your eyes reach the front door, you suppress a physical reaction to the large shotgun leaning against the wall next to it.

A deep sigh from the man has you turning to face him, his rough hand running over his face to the back of his head. “You don’t have any clue, do you?”

“I’m sorry?” You’re having a hard time hiding the nerves that are bubbling up in your chest, body entering fight or flight mode.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, walking away from you and plopping down in one of the recliners. He gestures to the couch, “Have a seat, I’ll try and explain.”

You hesitate. You’re right by the door, you don’t have to do this. This guy doesn’t seem like he needs any help anyway. Sam’s words about him not being very popular in this area come to the forefront of your mind and now your head is swirling with possibilities as to why.

A small ringing from another part of the couch pulls you from your spiral.

“Shit, hold on a second,” the man says as he rises back to his feet, “let me go see what he wants and I’ll be right back.” He walks past you and down the hall, leaving you by yourself.

This is it. Just turn around now and leave.

“Whatcha need, Ed?”

Your ears perk up. Was the man you were talking to not who you came here for? Maybe it’s his dad, and the man you’re talking to is just Eddie’s tired son who needs help taking care of him. But why would he call his own dad Ed? Maybe it’s an uncle or a family friend? He did say he was a Munson…

“Okay, let me whip something up for ya.”

The mystery Munson walks back down the hall, slowing down enough to talk as he walks by. “The boy’s hungry, can we talk in the kitchen while I heat him up somethin?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you say after a moment, following behind him into a large dining room/kitchen area. There’s a huge table in the center of the dining area that’s covered with boxes labeled with things like “dishes,” “salvaged photos,” “salvaged misc.” It all the sudden clicks for you.

“So, I’m not sure what all they told you,” the man starts, speaking with his back turned as he pulls some things from the fridge.

“I was given a name and an andress,” you say almost playfully, letting some of the tension leave your body.

“Should’a known,” he says, looking over his shoulder at you with a smile and a roll of his eyes. “I think its for legal purposes, they can't disclose much about my nephew or something like that. But, uh,” he nods his head to one of the bar chairs at the counter between the two of you, “I can.”

And so he did. He told you about how a murderer had escaped from prison and snuck back to Hawkins, murdering teens and attempting to pin it on his nephew. The killer had killed a girl in their old trailer, right in front of Eddie, almost killing him, too.

But, since no one had realized that the killer escaped, the whole town had believed it was Eddie the whole time. Four teens were killed, almost 5, and Eddie was brutally tortured before his friends were able to save him.

“Oh, my god,” you gasp with a hand over your mouth.

“I know,” the man, Wayne, says as he scoops the macaroni and cheese into a bowl. He opens a drawer and pulls out a spoon with a large, grippy handle that you recognized from your nurse shadowing. They’re normally used for people who’ve had strokes or other hand mobility issues. He shoves the spoon into the bowl and walks around the counter.

“I guess I’ve talked about him enough, might as well meet him for yourself.”

You slid out of your seat and follow Wayne down the hall to the very end. He gives the door a knock before opening it with a quick “coming in!”

Stepping in behind him, you see a large, mostly empty room with more new looking furniture and a few boxes in various places. In the center against the wall was a hospital bed with a large pull bar dangling above it. You were expecting to see someone laying in the bed, but were met with the sight of a lump of blankets and comforters instead.

“Ed, food’s ready boy,” Wayne says as he pulls a bedside table from against the wall to the bed. “Got someone here for you to meet, too.”

The lump on the bed moves a bit, and for a brief moment you see a set of eyes and a few wild curls peek from under the covers. But, just as quickly as you see them, they’re hidden once again.

“Ed—“

“No,” his muffled, strained voice calls from under the covers.

“Boy, don’t do this. You know I can’t leave you alone when I go—“

“No!” The voice squeaks, followed by a harsh cough. Wayne sighs, setting the bowl down softly.

“Let me get him set up and I’ll, uh, meet you back out in the living room.”

“Oh, okay,” you say quickly, backing out of the room and closing the door behind you. You’re barely down the hall when you can hear some strained yelling coming from the last room at the end of the hall.

You settle back in the kitchen where you can’t hear the conversation happening between the two men. You thought about dark and dull eyes that looked at you briefly, how even with only that small glance of him, Eddie looked tired. Just about as tired as his uncle, who rounded the corner a few minutes later.

“I’m so sorry about him, he’s just a little weary about strangers,” the older man says walking over to the phone sitting on the wall, picking it up and dialing.

“It’s okay, I can understand that.” You give him a small smile, which he tries to return, but is distracted as whoever he’s calling picks up on their end.

“Hey, Chief, it’s Wayne—sorry, yeah, Jim. Listen, Ed’s new caretaker is here, but he’s throwing a bit of a fit about ‘er. Think you’d be able to come and sit with him f’r the night until we can try again tomorrow?”

Disappointment washes over you. Not that you weren’t used to rejection, but you’d hardly been able to even give a first impression. Maybe your uniform put him off? Gotta start keeping clothes in the car to change into from now on…

The phone clings as Wayne hangs it up, body relaxing as a slow breath leaves him. He looks over to you, rather looking through you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Little miss, can I be frank with you?”

“It’s the uniform isn’t it?”

Wayne barks out a laugh, and you chuckle even though your inquiry was serious. “No, no--well, maybe a little.”

“I knew it,” you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to wear it when you’re here. S’long as you’re decent I don’t really care what you wear here to be honest. But, I did want to talk to you more about what we’re actually needing here.”

You look up at him, head tilting to the side in confusion. Several questions sit on the tip of your tongue, but you chose to just nod for him to continue.

“Okay. So, uh, I’ve been off work this whole time. Since March. I’ve been with the plant for a long time and my boss’s took a lotta pity on me with everything that’s going on. But…well that time is running out, and I can’t rely on anyone else to keep these bills paid, ya know?”

“Yes, yeah, I totally get that. Broke college kid here.”

“Right,” he chuckles. “So, I gotta go back to work. Tonight, actually, and, uh, I know this is short notice, but I need someone to stay here…while I’m at work.”

Your eyes go wide. “Oh, you wanted me to be, like, an overnight caretaker?”

“Yeah, I just, ya see with everything I told you about what happened, I couldn’t get anyone to come out and take care of him. Either they couldn’t pass a background check or once they realized who he was…So the Visiting Angel’s place was my last ditch effort to try and get someone in here. They said that it would be free if we went through the volunteer program, and that even though y’all are students that you’d still be able to help--But I understand if you can’t. You probably got a job and a family and a boyfrie--”

“I’ll do it.” The words fly out of your mouth without much thinking. But this poor man in front of you has been through hell with his nephew and how can you say no to him?

“Wait, really?” It’s his turn for his eyes to bug out, hardly able to believe what he’s hearing.

“Yeah, sure, I don’t mind. What time do you need me to be here?”

Wayne’s face softens, head hanging low like he still can’t wrap his head around your words. “Well, uh,” he starts, “I gotta leave here ‘round 6:30 and I work til about 5 am give or take depending on the night crew. If you'd be here about 6 or quarter after, that would be just fine. I don’t know how to cook much, but I could try and whip ya up something when I make Ed’s dinner, and you could work on yer school or watch tv or whatever girls your age like to do.”

“I’m plenty content to just work on school or watch tv,” you assure him.

“Good, good,” he says with a nod, turning to look into the living room. “We don’t got a bed in the third bedroom yet, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch until I can find the time to go and get one. Am I gonna have’ta talk to your parents or anything about why you’re not coming home during the week or anything?”

“What? Oh, no, no,” you wave your hands at his question, “Not unless you know how to talk to the dead.”

“Ah, shit, sorry,” Wayne cringes, hand running through his barely there hair.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” you say as you stand from your chair, “I will have to figure out how to tell my roommate. I don’t think she would like it if I told her that I was staying the night with a guy who was acquitted for murder.”

Oops. You bite your tongue between your teeth, wishing you could take the last bit of that sentence back. But Wayne’s laugh makes you feel less bad.

“Trust me, if I was in your roommates shoes I wouldn’t be too happy either.”

The ring of Eddie’s bell echoes down the hall again, pulling both of your attention to the sound.

“Better let me go myself. Don’t want to upset him again tonight. Why don’t you go head and head home and in the meantime I’ll talk to him. Try again tomorrow. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan!”

“Good,” Wayne says, walking you to the door. He lets you out with a goodbye, the closing of the front door being followed by the sounds of locks being put back in their place.

The drive home was quiet, but your head was swirling with thoughts. Your brain goes back and forth on the situation you just got yourself into.

Instead of focusing on the negatives, you decide to make a list in your mind of things you’d need to bring with you to stay the night; a toothbrush, deodorant, your own pillow and blanket—would they let you take a shower there? Hopefully so, since some days you’re going to have to come over straight from work or class. So add shampoo and conditioner. Probably body wash, too. You doubt that two men living together use anything other than head and shoulders.

You cringe when you think about using feminine products while there. Maybe you’d just keep them in your bag and grab them as you need them. It wouldn’t hurt to bring an extra towel in case you need to put it under you while you sleep.

Going through your mental checklist helps make the drive go by. Before you know it, you’re turning onto your street, where, surprise, surprise, Tonya’s boyfriend is once again parked in your spot in the driveway. You park on the street with a huff, thinking of all the things you want to say, but know you ultimately wont, not being one for confrontation.

“Hey, girl,” Tonya calls out from the couch. The smell of delicious food filling the whole house, so you know Charles must be cooking. “Go get a plate, Charlie just finished cooking.”

“I’m good, I grabbed something while I was out.” A lie, but you’d rather retreat to your room until Charles left. You’ve never been a fan of him and his pompous, know it all attitude. It was just better if you kept your interactions with him to a minimum rather than having to pretend he doesn’t get on your nerves.

It was a few hours later, nearing 10 pm when you finally heard Tonya shut the front door, signaling that it was safe to leave. She was cleaning up Charle’s mess in the kitchen when you walked out from your room.

“Hey,” you said quietly, keeping a comment about cleaning up after a child to yourself.

“I was wondering when you were going to come out,” she teases. “Thought I was gonna have to slip you a plate under your door.”

“Ha, ha,” you deadpan, opening the fridge to pull out leftovers from the weekend.

“So why’d you come home so late today?”

The calendar with both of your schedules scribbled in stared you in the face as you closed the refrigerator door. You weren’t a very social person, usually just coming straight home from school or work. And even though Tonya was a very chill person 99% of the time, that wasn’t the case when it came to you.

“I, uh…” you stuttered. You had the whole drive home and you forgot to think about what you’d tell her. If she knew the truth, she’d flip her lid and talk you out of it. You could try to lie, but there’s no way she’d believe you if you told her you were staying with a new guy that you’d never talked about or that you were helping out another friend she knows you don’t have.

“I had a job interview!” It was the only sensible thing you could think of that may be somewhat convincing to her. “For a…nursing home. As a nurse's assistant.”

“Woah, really?” Tonya sets her cup on the counter, jaw dropped in excitement. “Omg, okay, how did it go? Are they going to have you do another interview? Details, girl, details!”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, putting out your hands to keep her from shaking you. You wrack your brain, trying to come up with a story on the spot. “It’s a newer nursing home…very small. Um, I would be able to do some of my nursing stuff under supervision of a nurse. And…it’s overnights—“

“Hold on, overnights?” Tonya interruptus, “Girl, that’s a lot with your school schedule.”

“Oh, um, I know, but its super casual and I can sleep in the afternoon when I get out of class or after work—“

“Wait, you’re not quitting CoffeeHouse?”

Shit.

“Ah, about that, um, I’m…still going to try and work there, just in case. Like if this doesn’t work out.”

Tonya eyes you, making your hands feel sweaty under her scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t understand,” she states with a concerned tone.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you need to have two jobs? You don’t pay rent, Charlie cooks for all of us a couple times a week. I take care of the bills—“

“I feel guilty,” you blurt out, feeling actually guilty when you see her face contort with sadness.

“No, babes, I told you that I didn’t want your money. I want you to focus on something for you for once.”

“This is for me though. It’s a chance to actually get a more authentic experience in my field, and — and I can’t just take and take from you forever.”

Tonya lunges forward, enveloping you in her arms. “Why noooooot,” she wines, fake crying into your shoulder, “just let me take care you, baby giiiiiirl.”

“Stooooooooop,” you cry back, “I’m an independent woman who don’t need no man, remember? I believe you’re the one who told me that.”

“Right, no man. But you do need me!” She pulls back flashing her picture perfect smile at you that has had guys folding for her since middle school.

“You’re right,” you sigh in faux defeat, “if only I was enough for you…”

“Oh my gooooood, just get over your hang ups and learn to love him. He’s really not that bad.”

“I don’t know what you see in him.”

“Not like you have room to talk.”

You gasp, putting on a dramatic display at her poking at your taste in men.

“Don’t even try it,” she flicks your forehead. “When you find a guy that’s not totally batshit, then come talk to me.”

“I can’t help that I attract the crazies.”

After a few more white lies and half truths, the conversation shifts to other topics, including that of a retreat that Charles is planning for the two of them for their one year anniversary. Eventually you wind down and head to your room, making sure to check the locks on the door and windows on the way.

thank you for reading.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson slow burn #disabled!eddie munson #eddie lives #eddie munson st4 #canon divergent #grumpy!eddie munson x sunshine!reader #eddie munson x nurse!reader

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