#and they start smoking together on the top of the trailer at nights

[withacapitalp]

Steddie idea where Dustin is pressing on Robin and Steve about dating again and Steve decides to just blurt out that he's gay but the kind of gay that likes both and that's why he and Robin can't date (Robin apparently just doesn't count as one of the both in his mind for some reason?) Dustin tries to get Steve to see that but he's also in the 'my brother came out to me I must be supportive' mindset, so he instantly decides to flip to Steve you should date Eddie!

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: first date, first kiss, very slight angst | written for the stwg daily prompt kiss in the rain)

Today has to be perfect, Eddie vows as he parks his van in the Harrington's driveway.

Because today Eddie is taking Steve out on their first date.

Frankly, he has no idea how he managed to get a date with the Steve Harrington. Even more, he has no idea how someone as beautiful and kind and sweet and funny as Steve would want to go out with someone like him.

It certainly helps that they saved the world together and share many, many traumas, as well as some horrible scars that tell the story of everything they've been through.

Eddie wants to believe that's not all that binds them, that the months they've spent growing closer over shared custody of Steve's six nuggets, movie nights, and long hours spent smoking and talking on top of the Munsons' new trailer have a lot to do with it, too.

But Eddie also knows that the Eddie of a year ago would have scoffed at the idea of going out with King Steve. Just like that Steve wouldn't have gone out with the town freak.

Which is why Eddie needs today to be a success.

Today has to be perfect.

As he rings the bell, his heart beats wildly in his chest and sweat forms on his palms.

Steve answers the door with a smile that makes Eddie's knees weak. "Hey," he says, and Eddie's mind blanks for a moment. Steve's wearing those jeans, the ones that look like they're painted on, showing off his legs and...other parts. And he has them paired with a striped polo shirt that is not supposed to look as good as it does.

"Hey," Eddie replies, finally finding his voice. "You ready for a day full of adventure?"

Steve grins and nods, stepping out and closing the door behind him. "Lead the way. As long as there are no monsters to fight, I'm game."

Eddie's plan is simple: a picnic in an empty field he found a few weeks ago, but first some good old-fashioned ball throwing to indulge Steve's love of sports. It's no secret that Eddie hates sports, but he's willing to make an exception for Steve. He often feels that Steve is the one indulging the kids, Robin, or even himself, because except for Lucas, none of their friends enjoy sports, either playing or watching.

So Eddie wants to show Steve that his hobbies and interests are important too, and that Eddie can try to be as involved in them as Steve is in his.

They drive to the field with music blasting, a mix tape that Eddie has made especially for this occasion, a perfect blend of his and Steve's taste in music, and he feels a little more at ease as Steve sings along, off-key and carefree. When "Somebody To Love" comes on, Steve playfully nudges him with his elbow and Eddie joins him as they both sing along, grinning broadly.

"Did you bring me here to murder me and get rid of the body, Munson?" Steve jokes at the sight of the empty field and Eddie lets out a theatrical cackle.

"Afraid I'm going to have my way with you, Harrington?"

Heat pools in his stomach at the smile Steve gives him in response.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Deciding on a hasty retreat before he does something embarrassing like whimper, Eddie climbs out of the van and goes to the back, pulling out an old baseball and a pair of gloves.

"Thought we could start with this," Eddie says, holding up the ball to Steve, who has followed him to the back of the van.

Steve's eyes light up at the sight. "You remembered."

As if Eddie could ever forget all the secrets and stories Steve had shared with him, while the stars above them were the only witnesses to some of the best moments of Eddie's life.

Steve had told him how he had always loved baseball as a little boy, and how his father had sometimes taken him to games. Looking back, Steve said he probably loved his father's attention and time more than the sport itself, but for whatever reason, it had been his first great love. He collected all the cards and knew everything there was to know about stats and players and rules. All he wanted was to be a player.

When he tried out at school, he didn't make the team. It was only years later that Steve found out why he had trouble hitting the ball with his bat: he had impaired vision, something his parents never bothered with, so he was never examined. At the time, he believed it was because he wasn't good enough, a failure. His dad seemed to think the same thing, because after he didn't make the team, he never took Steve to games again.

Steve hadn't played since, so Eddie figured it was time to help Steve have some good memories of baseball again.

Eddie shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, figured you'd like it."

They toss the ball back and forth, Steve coaching Eddie on his form, laughing when Eddie fumbles a catch. They're both having fun, and Eddie starts to relax, thinking maybe this date won't be a disaster after all.

But then Eddie misjudges a throw, and the ball smacks him right on the forehead. He stumbles back, more surprised than hurt, but his confidence takes a hit.

"Shit, Eddie, you okay?" Steve rushes over, concern etched on his face.

Eddie laughs it off, though his heart sinks. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just my luck, huh?"

Steve looks relieved but still worried. "Maybe we should take a break."

Eddie nods, feeling like he's already ruined things. He wonders why he thought it was a good idea to throw a ball with an ex-jock when he failed gym class more than once. So much for giving Steve a good baseball memory.

Still, he trudges over to the van to get everything they need for the picnic he has planned. The delighted smile on Steve's face at the sight of the basket and the blanket under Eddie's arm makes him think that maybe all is not lost. But just as he spreads out the blanket and unloads the food he's prepared, he glances up at the sky and sees dark clouds gathering. Still, he clings to the hope that they can finish before the rain comes.

Eddie should have known better. Luck and he have only been acquaintances at the best of times.

Just as they're settling in, the first raindrop falls, then another, and within seconds, it's pouring.

Eddie's heart sinks. This day was supposed to be perfect, and now it's a mess. "I'm so sorry, Steve. This was supposed to be perfect and now —"

Steve cuts him off with a bright laugh, his hair plastered to his forehead, rain running down his face. "Eddie, it's fine. Really."

Eddie looks at him, confused. "But the rain, and the ball, and—"

Steve steps closer, cupping Eddie's face in his hands. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you. You did so much for me today, Eddie." And before Eddie can respond, Steve kisses him.

It's a soft, lingering kiss that makes Eddie forget about the rain, the ball, and everything else. When they pull apart, Steve's smiling. "This is perfect, Eddie."

Eddie laughs, feeling lighter than he has all day. "Yeah, it kinda is."

As they pack up the picnic in the pouring rain, Eddie realizes that maybe perfection isn't about everything going right. Maybe it's about finding the right moments, even in the midst of chaos, with the right person.

[sparkle-fiend]

Eddie is six years old, the first time he hears the voice. 

It wakes him with a jolt – sends him tearing through the house, searching under every bed and behind every door for the boy he hears calling his name.

Mama finally stops him. “Sweetheart, what did you lose this time?” (Eddie is always losing things.) She looks impatient, standing with a laundry basket balanced on one cocked hip, curly hair spilling out of the messy bun on top of her head.

“I heard somebody saying my name! I gotta find him, I think he’s hiding.”

Mama’s whole attitude changes, all at once. She sets the laundry aside and drops to her knees in front of him, squeezing his little hands between her own. “Oh baby. That voice means you’ve got a soulmate!”

She smiles bright as the suncatcher hanging in the window, and presses sloppy kisses all over his face until he screams with laughter, squirming to get away. 

“My lucky, special boy!”

Eddie’s never been lucky before. It’s exciting.

———

In school, they learn all about soulmates. About how rare they are. Uncle Wayne is the only other person Eddie knows that has one. 

When he found out about Uncle Wayne’s soulmate, Eddie was so excited – bubbling full of questions, like a bottle of fizzy pop. But whenever he tried to talk about it, his dad got real mad.

“You keep your mouth shut about soulmates,” he said. “Don’t talk about that shit in front of your uncle.”

It’s hard. Eddie starts staying over at Uncle Wayne’s trailer more and more when Mama gets sick. And Eddie’s never been good at following rules; especially when he’s curious about something.

“Uncle Wayne?” Eddie finally asks one day. “Where’s your soulmate? How come I’ve never seen her?” You have met her right? is what Eddie’s really asking. He can’t imagine waiting until he’s as old as Uncle Wayne to find his soulmate.

His uncle goes sort of brittle, tensing up like every joint is made of glass. His lips press together behind his beard, and his denim blue eyes go shiny and wet – like he’s trying not to cry.

If Eddie could take the question back, he would. Suck it right back into his mouth, like the smoke from his uncle’s cigarettes. This is why you gotta listen better baby – that’s what his Mama would probably say.

“My Lorretta died a few years ago. Before you were born.”

Eddie never considered that. In all the movies, soulmates die together. The thought of it leaves a queasy feeling squirming through his stomach.

“I still hear her though,” Uncle Wayne says, with a terribly soft look in his eyes. “Still hear her singing our song.”

“Like a memory?” Eddie whispers.

His uncle shakes his head. “Time don’t matter for soulmates – no more than distance. I can hear her still, across the years.”

Like a ghost, his uncle doesn’t say. A ghost that will haunt him forever. None of the dry textbooks in school ever mentioned that part.

It starts to worry Eddie. As he gets older, his soulmate’s voice starts to get clearer. He always hears the same thing – a desperate, grown-up voice screaming at him to “Run Eddie! RUN!!!” 

It must be from the future. But his soulmate sounds so scared. What could possibly happen, to make his soulmate sound like that?

Eddie starts to listen to music more. Loud, heavy stuff to drown out the frightened voice. 

Late at night, he curls up under the covers and softly sings his Mama’s favorite song – hoping that somewhere, somewhen, his soulmate will hear him.

That it might help, the way it helps Eddie when Mama sings him to sleep.

———

Eddie is twelve years old, the first time he really listens to the voice.

Mama's been dead two years, and his dad keeps pulling riskier and riskier jobs. Tonight, he's decided to try and break into the pawn shop on Fifth street. 

Eddie is the lookout, stationed on the opposite corner with a pistol weighing heavy in the pocket of his coat (just in case, Ed). 

He doesn't want to be here. He tried to argue with his dad. Said, "I've got a test tomorrow. I've got homework and..." and I hate this life. (He doesn't say that part.) I don't want to steal cars or break into buildings or mug people. I don't want to be like you.

His dad just gripped him by the arm hard enough to bruise, and said, "You like to eat, dont'cha? Well, lookouts get to eat. Lazy little shits don't." 

So Eddie is standing on a street corner in the middle of the night, watching his dad furtively attempt to pick the lock on the front door of the pawn shop, when a cop car slows down at the end of the street.

Fear floods his bloodstream so fast it leaves him dizzy. The cop has clearly noticed something. Eddie can see the shadowed figure inside the car reach for his radio. 

Eddie has two choices.

He could pull the pistol out of his pocket and fire a few shots down the street, forcing the cop to take cover long enough for his dad to get away (which is what his dad would expect him to do). Or he could... 

"Run!"

The sudden loud voice, echoing between his ears and behind his eyes and inside his heart, startles him into flinching. 

"Run Eddie, RUN!!!" His body obeys before his brain has a chance to process the words. He's halfway down the street when the siren shrieks to life. 

Later, as he sits in the backseat of the social worker's car on the way to his Uncle Wayne, he can't quite believe he did it. He bailed on his dad - left him to get arrested and go to prison. This is Frank Munson's third strike; he'll go away for life this time. 

I'm such a coward, Eddie thinks numbly. Such a chicken piece of shit. He digs his ragged nails into the soft flesh of his palms, squeezing hard enough to draw blood. 

As if he'd spoken aloud, a soft voice responds, "You're not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I've ever known. Running isn't always a bad thing, okay? Sometimes it's just the smart thing to do."

His soulmate sounds so fierce, so certain. Eddie blinks hard against the hot burn of tears. The smart thing to do.

———

Eddie holds onto those words, like magic talismans. They provide comfort, not just in the immediate days after his dad's arrest, but other times too. Every time he runs away from a bully or a cop or a deal gone bad, Eddie thinks to himself - I'm not a coward. I'm just smart.

It works... until the night he stumbles out of his uncle's trailer, leaving Chrissy Cunningham's broken body on the living room floor. He's so terrified he doesn't have time to think, not until after he's ditched his van and taken shelter in Rick's boathouse. As he leans against the splintered wall and catches his breath, it hits him.

I left her there. What if she was still alive? (She wasn't. She couldn't have been. Not after... not after that.) He grabs fistfuls of hair and tugs until his scalp aches. Wracks his brain trying to figure out what happened, what he could have done to stop it.

He's never felt so ashamed before, not even when his dad was cursing and screaming and calling him a coward through the thick glass of the visitation window. 

His soulmate's words whisper in his ears, "...sometimes it's just the smart thing to do," and Eddie pounds on his skull with his fists to drown the voice out. "Not this time," he snarls. I should have done something. I should have tried to save her. 

He doesn’t feel smart this time. He feels like a cowardly piece of shit.

His soulmate’s voice falls silent. 

Through all the craziness to follow – finding out that monsters are real, running for his life from an angry mob, fighting alongside Steve Harrington in an evil Upside Down version of Hawkins – Eddie doesn’t hear his soulmate again.

Not until he’s staring up at Dustin Henderson, realizing that he can’t run away again. As he hesitates at the bottom of the rope, Dustin calls out nervously, “Eddie, what are you doing?”  

“I’m buying more time,” he says. He ignores Dustin’s screams as he cuts the rope and slides the mattress out of the way – making sure the kid can’t follow him. 

And then he hears his soulmate say, “Wait, wait a second. Eddie?! Is that you?” 

Eddie is twenty years old, the first time he recognizes his soulmates voice.

He pauses at the door of the trailer and squeezes his eyes shut tight. “Hey Stevie.”

“Holy shit, it’s you,” Steve whispers in awe.

It’s the first time they’ve been able to speak to each other like this, responding in real-time. Eddie wishes it could have happened in different circumstances.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” 

“Eddie? What are you doing?” Steve sounds alarmed.

Eddie doesn’t answer. He slams his way out of the barricaded trailer and grabs one of the discarded bikes, hoping to lead the swarm of bats away as far as possible. 

He makes it halfway across the trailer park before one of the bats knocks him off the bike. He grunts and rolls, gaining his feet quickly. Chest heaving, charged with adrenalin – Eddie hesitates. He could keep running… or he could stand his ground and fight. 

Maybe Steve can hear the hitch in his breath in that moment, because the other boy seems to have worked out what’s going on, even from miles away. Steve screams, “No!!! Run Eddie, RUN!!!!”

It’s like the night his dad got arrested. Eddie doesn’t even have time to think - his body reacts to that voice and he runs, worn Reeboks slapping the pavement.

(In another world, Eddie would have turned to face the swarm. In another world, Eddie would have died.)

He’s fast. He’s always been fast. He buys himself a few precious moments, before the bats drag him to the ground. They start to rip through his clothes, through his flesh, and he tries to hold back his screams – he doesn’t want Steve to hear this…

Those extra seconds save his life. It’s bad - but not as bad as it could have been. The bats start to drop from the sky, writhing and shrieking; they’re dying, although Eddie has no idea why. Hopefully, it means Steve and the girls were successful. 

He struggles to sit up just as Dustin reaches him, crying and frantic. “Eddie!! Oh my god, are you okay? Jesus, there’s so much blood…” the kid moans. 

“Yeah, yep. I’m good,” Eddie pants through gritted teeth. “Help me up okay?”

Dustin insists on binding the worst of his wounds first, using strips of fabric torn from the ghillie suit. The pain makes Eddie want to scream all over again, but he allows it. It is an awful lot of blood.

They lean against each other and limp back to the trailer, where Dustin knots t-shirts and jeans and flannel shirts into the remnants of their rope until it’s long enough to reach the other side again. 

Eddie manages to haul himself up the rope and through the gate – and that’s where his strength runs out. The pain of landing on the thin mattress knocks him right out.

———

When Eddie wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed. 

Holy shit I’m alive, he thinks. He honestly wasn’t sure he would make it.

He moves gingerly, testing each limb, turning his head against the stinging pull of a bandage along the edge of his jaw.

The room isn’t empty; Eddie apparently has a roommate. He clears his throat and the person in the other bed stirs, turning to look at him. 

It’s Steve.

His soulmate.

Eddie feels a funny little swoop of exhilaration in his stomach. “Hey Stevie.”

Steve’s face goes soft at first, like he’s experiencing the same fizzy warmth that Eddie is feeling. Then he blinks, and his brows draw down into a scowl. “What the hell was that, huh? What happened to ‘I’m no hero’?”

Oops. 

Eddie tries to make light of the situation. “Maybe I wanted to try it out,” he says flippantly. “Not too sure it suits me though. Think I might stick to being a coward from now on – it’s a lot less painful.” 

Steve doesn’t smile. He fixes Eddie with a serious look, hazel eyes blazing in the sallow light of the hospital room. “You listen to me Eddie Munson. You're not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I've ever known. Running isn't always a bad thing, okay? Sometimes it's just the smart thing to do."

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. Those words – once a gift from the future, now an echo of the past. He never should have ignored them. “Maybe you’re right.”

Steve’s mouth is already open to continue the argument. “I…” he stops, clearly caught off-guard, face scrunched in adorable confusion. “Yeah. Yeah, I am right.”

Steve runs a faintly trembling hand through his hair. The angry expression melts into something gentler, almost unbearably soft. “I’m glad you listened to me in the end, at least.”

Eddie shifts his weight, pressing his cheek into the scratchy hospital pillow so he can keep his eyes on Steve. 

He’s so beautiful. Even bloody and bruised, with dirt still smudged along his hairline and dark circles under his eyes – he’s the most beautiful boy Eddie has ever seen. And Eddie almost gave this up – if he’d died in the Upside Down, he would have left Steve alone, with only the echo of Eddie’s voice left to haunt him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says hoarsely, “me too.”

He still feels guilty over Chrissy’s death - he probably always will. But he’s coming to realize that proving himself a hero wouldn’t have been worth the pain his death would have caused.

Eddie’s got a second chance… and he plans to make the most of it.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 11

part 1 | part 10 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)

It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.

Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.

"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."

She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."

"You've literally said that you wouldn't."

"Platonically, I would!!"

She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.

And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?

She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.

He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.

He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.

—

Eddie's acting weird.

Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.

Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.

Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.

He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…

He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.

And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.

“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”

Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”

Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.

He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.

It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.

"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"

Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"

She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.

The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"

"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"

He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"

“Ew!”

“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”

“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”

His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...

There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.

"I think you should take me home."

"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."

“Like now.”

Steve tucks himself into his jeans.

—

part 12

tagging whoever commented yesterday if your settings will let me @slutforcoffein @annabanannabeth @rani-mayida @awolfstudio @noodle-shenaniganery @yourmom-isgay @zombiecreatures @anne-bennett-cosplayer @thestarslittleking @evillittleguy @acedorerryn @messrs-weasley @bronwenmarie @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @space-invading-pigeon @violetsteve @ahsokatanoss @slowandsteddie @zoeweee @silver-snaffles @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @thealwithnoname @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @hellion-child @stevesbipanic @trensu @steves-strapcollection @hotluncheddie

[trashmouth-richie]

CONFESSION

eddie x fem! reader

TW: no minors, heavy degrading themes of the Catholic Church, smut, corruption kink, virginity loss, Eddie posing as a priest. Slight daddy kink, rosaries not used properly. Umm yeah it’s smut p in v, cum eating. Etc

a/n: I have no words, I’ll see you in the crimsoned room of hell, or purgatory— in that case, please pray me out.

Trudging with untied boots the thud of his clunky soles echo loud in the steeped ceiling of St. Mary’s. He stubs the lit end of his joint out in the holy water, sizzling and emitting one last pathetic puff of smoke. Dipping a tattooed middle finger into the holy water he makes a lame excuse for the sign of the cross, flicking whatever remnants of moisture left into the open air. Keeping his middle finger high for the man on the cross. 

  Every Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday nights at 7 o'clock on the dot, he had come to the brick built and heavily waxed wooden floored church to repent. 

  Father Hopper had gone easy on Eddie when he found him trying to hot wire his car. Punishing him to thirty confessions stretched over two months time.

Father knew Wayne Munson was on the verge of a thin line of patience, and Eddie was on his last strike with Hawkins PD, next step was prison. A shared cell with the other Munson and ex resident of Hawkins currently known as inmate #89432. 

  Fuck it, I’ll go to jail what the hell do I care? Eddie spat at the rickety table in Father Hopper’s poorly lit kitchen.

  “Son,” Father began, sipping a bitter cup of coffee, thumb nails scratching against the ceramic mug, “you don’t want to end up like him.” 

  “Well. I sure as hell ain’t gonna end up like you. White robes and that cardboard dog collar you wear— yeah fuckin’ right.” 

  That was back in May. What started as a desperate plea to steal a car and possibly sell it to get enough money to  skip the prying eyes and whispering licks of gossip tongues about how he hadn’t graduated, again, — ended with him getting assigned the confessions. 

  A stuffy little closet with Hopper’s coffee breath stenching through a grated screen. The dark walls seems to close in on him as he confessed to petty crimes and sex on Sundays. 

  Leaning against the desk that held glass orbs of candles, he spits in the nearest one. The flame sizzling out. And that’s when he hears it. 

  A small giggle from the pew nearest him. 

  He had seen you around school. Clutching your school books to your chest as you were shoved into walls and lockers. A ghost among the popular chicks and dicks. But never to him. 

  He himself was an outcast and truth be told he didn’t remember the time he hawked a lougie into Jason’s milk carton and stubbed a cigarette into his hamburger after Jason had purposefully knocked your lunch tray out of your hands. The cheap plastic tray hitting the tiled floor with a clank. 

  He might remember but you remembered the way his smile pearled big and pretty, his long lashes dusting the tops of his cheeks as he winked your way, and the way your panties clung with wetness at your heated lips. 

  His whiskey dark eyes bore into your head as he says your name slow, like reciting a prayer. His long legs swing as he struts cockily towards you. Middle of the summer and he’d shed his leather armor. Red flannel open revealing a tanned tattooed chest. Sleeves cut off showcasing muscly trailer park strong arms.  Jeans hacked off above the knee. 

  His smirk danced across his lips, tongue poking out to wet his lips. He had trouble written all over him. And damn did he wear it well.

  “Don’t tell me you’re here to confess the sins committed against our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?” 

  Your legs cross and thighs rub together. A pulse awakening between your legs. 

  “Amen,” you giggle nervously, hiding behind heated cheeks. 

  Leaning his long frame against the edge of the pew, he throws a worn heavy boot over onto the seat, next to your clenched thighs under the white sundress. 

  He leans down, over his knee, his long curls dancing with his gesturing head, he’s leaning close and you can see the reds fading his eyes and the skunked smell of weed. Still that smile has you melting. 

  “So what are you in for? Forget to genuflect before sitting down last Sunday?” 

  His joke earns a smile from you and seeing your lips pull your cheeks up has him twitching in his jeans. 

  “No,” you roll your eyes in a girlish way, batting your lashes, “it’s not that.” 

  “Ah!” Eddie says jumping up, “no bother, I don’t think Father Hopper isn’t gonna show anyway.” 

  You don’t mean to frown and Eddie almost laughs out loud at your pout. 

  Strict as your parents were, they were demanding that you needed to confess for your sins. They were already pissed you skipped out on college, might as well take 10 years off school, you’ll never go, they hated your job, hated even more that you didn’t really have friends outside of the “weird Buckley girl.” 

  By the end of this month you’d have enough money saved up to move out, and oh how you couldn’t wait. 

  The dirty word slips before you catch it. Hands covering your mouth quickly, the heat on your cheeks burning deeper. You peer at Eddie with big eyes.  

  He cracks a slow smile and leans forward. Licking his chapped lips again. He’s so close to you you can see every eyelash in high definition. 

  “That’s another sin, one more and the floor will open and we’ll both be engulfed into the fiery pits of hell.” 

  “Actually I think it’s purgat—” 

  A ringed finger is placed vertically to your lips, shushing you from finishing. The satin feel of your lips on his rugged finger makes him ache against the teeth of his zipper. 

  Tracing your face with his eyes they dip down the slope of your nose and past the curve of your lips, the delicate pink rosary is hung on your neck with such daintiness it’s almost in open invitation. 

  He about chokes when the goosebumps rise on your throat from his stare, a bead of sweat trickling in between your tits. 

  Dark eyes swim into yours, and his smile is impish, full of wicked delight, “Let’s go.” 

  His hand snakes down your shoulder and he grabs your wrist in a light but thick grip. Beckoning you with a sinful smirk. 

  “To where?” You manage after peeling your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

  “Time to confess for that dirty mouth.” Eddie says matter of fact, turning his head and dragging you to the confessional booth. “C’mon I’ll act as Father.” 

  Eddie pulls you into the small wooden door in the back of the church opening it for you in a gentlemanly manner ending in a bow. 

  He rushes you in with snapping fingers and a growl making you squeal. 

  Sitting behind the screen where Hopper usually sat Eddie beckons you to sit in his usual assigned seat. 

  He makes a backwards sign of the cross with his left hand and folds his fingers, clearly his throat and using a deep baritone voice, “tell me your sins, sweet girl.” 

  When you giggle, Eddie flicks the screen, “this is serious shit— confess to me.” 

  You begin the way your parents had you rehearse at home. 

  “Bless me Father— wait, should I call you that?”

  “Daddy works best,” Eddie says without missing a beat. And your pussy clenches around nothing. 

  “Bless me,” you hesitate on the word, but Eddie raises his eyebrows to encourage you so you start again, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. 

  “B- Bless me, Daddy, for I have sinned, my last confession was 10 weeks ago.” 

  “That’s a long time ago,” he tsks, berating you, “have you not sinned in these last 10 weeks?” 

  Fingers threading the hem of your dress you answer, “I- I have.” 

  Eddie palms himself at your innocence. “Well?” 

  “I— Eddie—” 

  “Excuse me? My title in this confessional is Daddy please do not make me correct you again,”

  “Sorry, Daddy.” 

  “Good girl,” Eddie purrs. Sending shocks to your clit. “Continue.” 

  Clearing your throat you stroke the beads of the rosary hung against your neck. Counting ten, a small skip, another bead, then ten more. 

  “I was.. experimenting.” 

  “Drugs?” Eddie asks, chuckling in genuine shock, he didn’t think a girl like you would smoke, “yes the devils lettuce is tempting.” 

  He flicks his lighter open and lights another joint he had tucked in his pocket for the ride home. 

  “But we must stop these temptations before they start, plus who are you buying from because I need to know if I have competition.” 

  You move your head to the side and continue thumbing the pink pearly beads in your fingers. The clack of your nails against the beads fill the quiet smoke hung room. 

  “No… it wasn’t drugs.” 

  Eddie’s mind flips like a magazine. 

  “Oh yes the alcohol, another temp—”

  “Wrong again.” 

  Eddie’s frustration peaks, “well I’m not a fucking mind reader so do you wanna explain yourself?” 

  “I— I was.. I was touching myself.” 

  “Oh fuckin, Christ..” it’s mumbled and breathy but you hear it all the same, sending a slick to your pussy from your admission and Eddie’s shock. 

  He’s rock hard. The zipper on his jeans scream, begging for any sort of release. He needs to know more. 

  “Do explain,” he says intrigued, leaning forward, his hands folded under his chin. 

  Adjusting yourself in the wooden chair you cross your legs, and Eddie barely witnesses the white cotton snug between your thighs, the sneak peek having him swallow hard. 

  Taking a breath you go into detail about the videotape you had gotten from the adult section of Family Video. How you had only watched it once and the volume was muted, but you couldn’t get it out of your mind. 

  The way the woman’s mouth curved into an “O” when the man was pleasuring her. The size of the man’s penis and the way it slapped against his stomach when released from his jeans. How the woman’s perked nipples were firm but looked soft against the man’s tongue.  

  Eddie’s drool is wiped from his mouth at your explicit confession, and he starts to palm himself over his jeans when you explain how you had started rubbing yourself over your underwear at night. 

  Thinking you were about to have your first ever orgasm but weren’t able to finish because your mother had walked in on you, legs spread wide on your comforter, toes curling. As you were using the barrel of a curling iron to rub at your clothed clit. 

  The embarrassment from repeating the story to Eddie made your cheeks heat, and you hid behind your hair. 

  The silence is speaking volumes. The only noise is the cream of the wooden seat as you shift again, a flutter in your stomach as Eddie thinks of his punishment for you. 

  “Sweetheart,” Eddie breathes, a hiss on his tongue as he moves from behind the screen, wedging himself between you and the wall, his long frame leaning against the mahogany. 

  Ringed fingers tapping along the plump of his lips, his hard cock outlined through his jeans, “You are a filthy, naughty girl.”

  You scoff, “I am not!” 

  “Oh baby, you are,” Eddie says, boxing you in, “but, I know just the thing to…cleanse you of your sins.” He licks his lips again and stares you down. And you're certain you're looking into Satan’s eyes. 

  “Wh—” you stutter, having to clear your throat, swallowing thickly and dabbing at the sweat on your neck, “what do you have in mind?” 

  Eddie’s wayward curls skim the top of your chest as his lips curve around the shell of your ear, he smells like cigarettes and laundry soap, “bad girls get spanked.” 

  Gasping, he laughs at your shocked face. “I don’t make the rules babe, ok I made that one up, but this is for you swearing in the house of the Lord, now,” he gestures a thumb over his shoulder, “get up, you’re gonna need to be on my lap.” 

  You do as you're told, standing chest to chest with Eddie. Only this time it’s you licking your lips. One stretch up on tipped toes and your lips could connect with his. The faint mark of a nicotine stain paints his bottom lip. You wonder if it would taste like it. 

  He grabs your hips and swivels you around, his rings dig into the soft cotton on your dress, his nails scratching the fabric as he takes his seat. The wooden chair groaning on the sudden weight. 

  Leaning back in the chair he smiles wickedly, legs spread wide, he rubs his lap, tapping for you to come closer. 

  When your body is laid flat against him, you pull at the hem of your skirt to keep your modesty. 

  “This punishment is just for the dirty words,” Eddie explains. His ringed fingers walk along your spine, trailing down your back and up the fat of your ass. 

  He lays a warm hand on your cheeks and rubs it gently. Squeezing every so often. 

  Eddie's cock is hard under your ribs and your pussy flutters at the size of him. He hums and jiggles your ass before explaining his rules for your indiscretion, “you are going to recite The Lord’s Prayer while I spank you. Understand?”  

  You nod dumbly and whimper when his left hand tickles up your thighs. 

  “Start.” He grunts. 

  You begin the Lord's Prayer just like you were taught, standing before joyful cheeked families in a similar white dress on your First Communion day. 

  “Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be th—”

  A large hand comes down hard with a thwap! on your ass cheek, sending you forward and hitting your head on the wall. 

  “Oh,” Eddie whispers, not hiding the smile in his voice, “if you mess up— we start over. So don’t. Unless this naughty girl enjoys being spanked by daddy? Hmm?” 

  You nod again and continue. Trying hard to remember where you were. Hallowed be…

  “.. Thy Name, Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done. On Eart—”

  Two hands smack your ass at once like sticks beating a drum. The hem of your skirt is lifted past the sheer white panties you are wearing. Reaching for the end of your dress to pull it down Eddie grabs your wrist, putting your hand back where it belongs he issued another spanking. 

  This time he lifts your dress fully and groans at the sight in front of him. Your plump ass has all but swallowed the see thru fabric of your panties. Eddie sucks a breath in through his teeth and places his left hand in the thick of your thighs, warmed by the heat of your arousal, his thumb rubbing small circles. 

  Thy Kingdom… shit. 

  “Thy Kingdom c—” the hardest slap yet has rained down on your nearly bare skin, and it springs tears from your eyes. 

  Eddie smooths over the red mark left on your skin and his tone is irate when he spits, “you already said that sweetheart, start again.” 

  His fingers snake further up your legs and he groans at the feel of your soaked panties on his fingertips. 

  You start again. And the spankings Eddie delivers are swift and merciless. The harder he spanks the more you cry out. 

  Sweat pools between your thighs where Eddie’s hot hand is wedged, his thumb teasing the outline of your panties and pressing soft circles into the fabric. 

  Tears cling to your eyelashes as your punishment comes to an end, welts forming where his rings stung and clipped you. 

  Words of reassurance fall from his lips after every slap and harsh whack of his hands. When Eddie leans over to catch a rogue tear from your cheek before it hits the carpet, your thighs slam together tight with a snap. 

  The groan he lets out is guttural and low. His cock twitches underneath you again. 

  “..and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil Am—- ow!” 

  Quick, hot tears sting your eyes. A jerk of your head reveals a sight you would never imagine seeing… let alone in a church. 

  Pearly, and oddly straight. The calcified and slightly sharp teeth pull out from the red, irritated skin on your ass.  

  “If you want to repent for your sins, you need to put your trust in me, can you do that baby… hmm? Can you listen and give yourself to me? It’s the only way you’ll be forgiven.”

  A perfect dental record sunken in deep, small droplets of blood weep from the pierced flesh from his canines. 

His lips are pulled back in a snarl, dark eyes gleam with a feral intensity so ferocious you’re instantly terrified. He looks like a wolf fighting for a meal. 

  Paralyzed with fear, your lungs spasm in shock as he flicks out his tongue, running the wet tip of the muscle along the pattern of his teeth grooved into your skin. 

  Each pass of his slicked tongue deepens the arousal in your lower stomach. His lips curve around the mark, kissing it better, his hooded eyes never leave yours. 

  You moan when the purpling bruise he’s sucking into your skin is greeted with the same poked teeth that bit you earlier. 

  His thick middle finger had your panties pulled to the side and your arousal is coated thick on his finger as he pushes past your puffy lips. A blunt fingernail sharp against your inner walls. 

  “Fuck,” he groans, dipping his finger into the impossibly tight well of your sweet pussy. 

  Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you mimic his moans and bite into your cheek. Hungry for the look of a broken gasp as your walls flutter and tighten around him. 

  World spinning and head rushing, Eddie has you upright and straddling his waist. when you start to question him he shushes you. 

  Taking the same finger he had plunged into your molten slicked pussy, he rubs the pad of it around your lips. Like a tube of chapstick during a cold winter, he coats them again and again, licking his own, his other hand is tight on your knee and gently skirting closer to your hip under your dress. 

  When he's satisfied with his art on your plump lips, he finally dives in, his breath hot on your skin and you part your mouth in a welcome for him. 

  But he only laughs. 

  A throaty chuckle that mocks you, as you wait for him to kiss you, wait for him to press his pinked lips to yours. Waiting for his tongue to devilishly lap at the corner of your mouth. 

  But all of his attention is zeroing down on the rosary around your neck. 

  Each bead is slick with sweat, warm to the touch against his thumb, as he counts them in his head, your throat gasping on each inhale. Whimpering and moving your hips against him.

  Grabbing the rosary in his fist he pulls you closer to him, biting the fleshy lobe around the small gold hoops in your ears, his dick aches when you whine his name. 

  Huffed whispers tickle your ear and send shivers down your spine and flood your panties, “Such a dirty fucking girl, practically begging for me to fuck you.” 

  Another whine from your mouth and he’s bucking his hips into you, strained denim against wet lace. 

  “Is that what you want?” Eddie demands. His snake-like tongue tickling behind your ear, “all you have to do, is ask.” 

  “Please,” you beg, fingers curling into the flannel of his shirt, head thrown back as he circles your neck and paints hickies with his tongue.

  “Not good enough, baby. Tell me how bad you want this little virgin hole filled.” 

  His hand finds it way under your skirt to the desperate slick of your panties, his fingers sliding around and making slow figure eights against your clit.

  Tits bouncing as you move against his hand, hopelessly with no words you beg him with your body to give you relief. You whine again embarrassed to ask for what you craved, the sin that brought you here to begin with.

  When you don’t say anything he retreats his hand. And you try to chase it as it slips away, you whimper pitifully again, and finally succumb to his demands. 

  All embarrassment gone as you beg him, plead for his cock, “Eddie, please.. please.. I’ve been so good,” you oughta be ashamed of yourself but you couldn’t care less— if he could make you feel this good by barely touching you, you’d be on your way to that glorified “O” in no time, and you can practically hear the Hallelujah chorus.  

  He chuckled cockily at your pleas, but shushes you as he unthreads his belt, and almost chokes when you gasp in awe at his thick veiny cock, slapping up to his belly with a thump and the pearling bead of cum seeping from the slit. 

  His thick ringed hand pumps himself as he lines himself up with your swollen pussy. And when you sink down he slams himself home and you clench around him, a scream escaping your slack mouth.

  He groans low,  trying to even out his breathing around your pretty gasps and breathy moans. 

  “You’re gonna keep my cock warm before I fuck you like the slut you wanna be for me,” he chides, concentrating hard on on anything other than the tight walls of your pussy gripping him. “This is the rest of your punishment… you pray a Hail Mary and warm my cock, no whining, no moaning.” 

  You whimper as his cock stretches you out, practically biting a hole in your bottom lip as you taste yourself from where he painted them with your own arousal earlier. 

  A loud slap to your ass and you’re jolting forward, your rosary tight in Eddie’s fist as he brings you down to his lips, “start praying or I’ll go home.”

  “Hail Mary,” you begin, the same way you started before, only this time the pressure was never lifted, your pussy full of him, and his tongue hot and feverish on your neck, teeth grazing your skin ever so lightly. 

  He’s teasing you and trying to get you to break, he thumbs over your nipples until they’re peaked and sore in his pinched grip. 

  When you get halfway through the sacred prayer, your pussy aches and drips down to his balls. His tongue is lazily working a red and purple ‘E’ into the fat of your tit, one hand still holding the rosary tight against your neck. 

  You’re on the verge of breaking when you suck him in deeper, pushing your walls around him and kegeling him in a death trap. He mins and curses the lord’s name, and he finally snaps. 

  Bangs slicked with sweat and stuck heavy against forehead, he grunts, “Holy Mary Mother of God.” And you’re hiked upwards. 

  The screen you confessed your sins to with Eddie on the other side only a half hour ago, is now pressed tight against your ass as Eddie hammers his cock into your slicked and aching pussy. 

  The moan you elicit is toe curling, borderlining pornographic as the thick head of his clock slams into a spot you were unaware of reaching again and again. 

  “Pray for us sinners… fuck this pussy is so tight… now and at the hour of our death,” Eddie whimpers into your shoulder before biting down hard. 

  And when you yell out an amen your fluttering gummy walls spasm with joyful relief. Coating you and Eddie both with hot arousal as it seeps from you. 

  And the lips you’ve been staring at all night finally touch yours. 

  A bruisingly, sore puncture of lust filled kisses that would have your lips resembling a baboon’s ass for days. 

  He’s babbling now as your feet are wrapped right around his waist, his hands wiggling into his curls and yanking harder sends him over the edge. 

  He drops you onto your knees and opens your mouth with a press of his thumb on your bottom lip, when your tongue is out, and waiting for his cum, he jerks his cock once more and shudders when the hot ropes leave him and drip on your tongue and lips. 

  “Body of Christ,” Eddie says with a smirk, shutting your mouth for you and watching you swallow his load. He expects you to gag, possibly spit it out at him like the other girls would. 

  But when you lick your lips and utter a seductive, “Amen.” Eddie knows he’d never get out of confession for the rest of his life. 

😅hmmm yeah ily there will be a part 2

[saquesha13]

Good Googly Moogly that Thang is Juicy

Steve wasn’t sure how it had happened. It was a typical sleepover, the entire Party bunkered down in the Wheelers basement like they do every Friday night post Vecna. Of course their newest Party member had been joining them, Eddie Munson. It was like he really just fit right in. All the kids slept on the floor dog piled together. Nancy and Jonathan take the pull out bed, Robin and himself share a blow up mattress and Eddie seemed set on sleeping on the recliner. Everyone was sound asleep when it happened, Steve was the only one who heard Eddie’s quick breaths. Maybe he wasn’t fully awake, or just wasn’t thinking, but Steve didn’t even think about it when he detangled himself from Robin and crawled up on the itty-bitty space of the recliner behind Eddie and holding him in his arms until Eddie had calmed down, it was too easy to fall back asleep after that.

In the morning, the first thing Steve noticed as he started to stir was how warm his left ass cheek was before realizing his whole front half of his body was warm too. He heard a clicking sound, and saw a bright light through his closed eyelids snapping them open to see Jonathan fucking Byers with a camera angled right at him. Steve realized why when he saw he was sleeping pretty much on top of Eddie Munson, and that warm thing on his ass was Eddie’s hand.

It happened again not even a week later at Robins house when the fruity four decided to have a movie night. Eddie apparently was too sleep deprived at the Wheelers & didn’t remember anything but Steve being next to him in the morning, not even noticing where his hand was. So Steve had dropped the matter (after hunting Jonathan down and snatching the polaroid, ready to burn the damn picture but for some reason he kept it on his nightstand) Eddie and Steve had sat on the loveseat together, with Robin and Nancy sitting on the floor painting each others nails as the movie played. Steve doesn’t know if he fell asleep first or Eddie, but it happened again. When Steve woke up in the morning he had his arms around Eddie Munson, and in return Eddie had a hand gripping onto his asscheek. It’s not fair that this is the best sleep Steve has had in months. To make matters worse Eddie seemed so unfazed by the entire thing, acting as if he didn’t have his hand holding Steve’s ass in their sleep and Steve for some reason believed it.

Even after the next two get togethers, the weekly sleepover and hanging out at Eddie’s trailer for a smoke, they both ended the same way, sound asleep with a hand on his ass and his arms tangled around Eddie’s frame. Steve decided to not make a big deal about it since Eddie wasn’t. But then he went to pick the teenagers up from their DnD session, wearing his jeans waiting for almost a whole hour in his bmw, it usually never takes this damn long. So Steve turned the car off and stomped his way through the rain up to the front doors of the high school just in time fore Eddie to swing the door open, a pleasant grin on his lips at the sight of Steve, with the kids behind him. “Uh oh, Harrington’s hair got fucked up in the rain, someone is in trouble.” Eddie huffed out a low laugh, sliding his ringed covered hand in the back pocket of Steve’s fucking levi’s and leaving his hand there making any snarky remark leave Steve’s brain entirely. Blush pink cheeks and all he made a bold move to look at Eddie and saw it all over his stupidly hot face that the damn guy had been doing this on purpose the entire time! And then the hand in his pocket squeezed and Steve’s pink face turned red. “Okay, time to go! I’ve been waiting a whole damn hour.” Steve’s voice was higher then he’d ever admit as he shoved all the kids out in the rain in the direction of his car. “As for you, Munson, I’ll see you tonight. Don’t forget the weed.” He pointed a finger in Eddie’s direction, seeing the moment Eddie had looked up as if he was looking down at his - jesus christ.

Around nine thirty he had a knock on his door and the second Steve had opened it he didn’t even let Eddie speak before his lips were crashing against Eddie’s. Those damn hands started in his hair, but quickly worked their way down to the grey sweatpants Steve had changed into groping his ass so hard Steve may or may not have moaned against Eddie’s now smirking lips.

Let’s just say they didn’t even make it to the bed. Clothes flown hazardly around the living room leading up to the couch where they both lay naked, one ringed covered hand lazily stroking Steve’s lower back while the other cups Steve’s right buttcheek. They had finally lit up a blunt - originally the plan for tonight - passing it back and forth to one another as Steve laid flat on Eddie’s tattooed chest, his free hand playing with the ends of Eddie’s hair. “You were doing it on purpose, grabbing my ass.”

“Not at first, actually.” Eddie hummed, taking a long hit and letting the smoke escape his lips upwards towards the ceiling. “But once I got a taste of this ass, I couldn’t fucking keep my hands off of you, sweetheart.” Steve hated the way Eddie fucking Munson knew just what to do to make him blush. “Walking around in the tightest jeans known to man. And God, don’t even get me started on the basketball shorts.”

[scarlettmacbeth]

The way you move ain't fair you know - Steddie Fanfic - AO3 - Stranger Things

Steve had enthusiastically told Robin about the successful date.

—So what happened next?

—I walked him home, we hugged each other again, and he went inside —Steve said, smiling.

—Wait... you didn't kiss him?

—Well... no —Steve confessed, blushing—. I do not want to put too much pressure on him; we will take things slowly.

Eddie came through the door and greeted them enthusiastically, as if the thought had summoned him. Robin couldn't help but notice that even as he addressed her, Eddie's eyes followed Steve's every movements. She gladly accepted the excuse to leave them alone when two more customers entered the store.

—I want to rent a tape —Eddie leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his palms on his cheeks as he said, crookedly grinning—. ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ .

—You have already seen that one —Steve said immediately.

Eddie looked at him puzzled.

—You rented it a month and half ago.

Eddie blushed as he bit his lip. Good memory , he murmured.

—What about you?

Steve raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

—Have you seen it?

Steve shook his head.

—Come watch it with me —Eddie said casually, scratching the back of his neck—. Tonight, at my place?

The exhilarating thought of going on another date with Eddie washed over Steve.

—Sure, I’ll be there.

He arrived on time and brought beers. The trailer was messy, but there was an obvious effort to conceal the wrinkled clothes under the bed and the dirty dishes in the sink. Processed food cans and packages piled high in a couple of trash bags in the kitchen corner. The movie was set to start, the couch was cleared, and snacks were placed on the table. When Eddie walked past him, Steve felt the freshness of his recently washed hair, and his stomach muscles twitched. He had visited Eddie's place before, but they had never gone there by themselves, let alone on a date.

On the screen, Nancy found Tina's diary and began to read about her nightmares. In the meantime, Steve had settled into a cozy stance with his head resting on Eddie's shoulder and his legs propped up on the couch, while six beer cans were scattered across the floor. Eddie's jacket still carried the lingering smell of tobacco and marijuana smoke, and his long hair exuded the scent of lavender shampoo. Steve reasoned that the fragrances themselves had little to do with the strange calm and thrilling ecstasy he was feeling at that very moment, and that the boy wearing them was much more responsible. He wished he could smell his skin directly, feel it beneath his fingers, and use his lips and tongue to commit the shape and texture of his tattoos to memory. Eddie eventually relaxed, his feet on the coffee table and his arm stretched out on the back of the chair, after being taken aback by his sudden closeness. When Steve approached, resting his cheek on his chest, Eddie sighed contentedly and allowed himself to play with the strands of hair that felt so close to his face, pure softness and perfume. He had often fantasized about using his fingers to tousle that flawless mane. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath; upon opening them, Glen dozed off, making him a prime target for Freddy. 

—You totally look like Johnny Depp —Eddie blurted out.

—What? —Steve said—. I do not.

—Of course you do, the typical movie heartthrob —Eddie answered softly—. You should wear crop tops sometime.

Steve looked up at him, their gazes locking. He laughed softly, a calm laugh that brought back memories of breezy summer nights. Eddie was astounded by its warmth, feeling it ascend within him and land on his chest. His heart skipped a beat, and the hand that had become entangled in Steve's hair trembled slightly. What was this bond that held them together in the middle of the night, an inexplicable electricity in the air? It did not need to be explained. Their friendship had begun with terror, suffering, and loss and had since blossomed into something lovely and delightful. Eddie enjoyed the sensation of tension created by Steve's hand resting on his thigh, only hindered by his jeans' fabric. How could he not see that I am all red and sweaty? He can not help but notice the effect he has on me . It was the paradox of the innocent villain, who causes harm by accident; his tender gazes and adorable dimples stabbed like darts into Eddie's soul, drowning in the shivers of that sweet torture. The more Steve gave him, the more his insatiable heart demanded; he knew that if he kept pulling on that string, it would eventually snap, and he was ready to fall with the end in his grasp. The certainty of his impending fall caused his veins to swell with vertigo.

Upon rising from the couch, Steve faltered; he had glanced at his watch and conceded, with resignation, that it was time to leave. Eddie guided him to the door and gave a little start when he felt Steve's lips lightly touch his cheek.

—Good night, Eddie —he smiled as he left—. I had a fantastic time, next time is on me.

With his fingers still firmly planted on his cheek, Eddie gave a forceful nod, as though he wanted to trap Steve's runaway kiss there.

***

Read the complete fanfic on AO3:

Eddie has been crushing on Steve for some time, but accepted the fact that his love is unrequited. When Steve asks him out on a date, Eddie agrees, believing it to be purely platonic, just a friends' thing. It takes him three dates and two kisses to come to the conclusion that he is in fact dating Steve Harrington.

[chainmailchalamet]

Run Rabbit, Run (Dark! Eddie Munson 🍒🪽), Pt. 2

tags: roommates to lovers, modern!metalhead!eddie munson(maybe not a complete face match to ST!Eddie, but his look is up to your imagination), predator/prey dynamic , a lil degradation, impact, knife play, jealousy, possessive behavior + language, dacryphilia, kind of fucked up intense dirty talk, face slapping, choking, morallygrey!eddie, they may or may not be completely human (also up to interpretation), and as usual always!black always!non-binary POV 🌟🍒

————

the tension breaks because of course it does— because eddie, from the moment you move in, seems to be on a one-man mission to pull at every single one of your threads until you unravel at his feet, just so he can put you back together again.

and if you confronted him about it, he’d play dumb about it, because in his defense, he’s not really doing anything he wouldn’t usually do. nothing he wasn’t already doing before you moved in with him — he’d say you were being paranoid, that it was kind of adorable actually.

but you know you’re not, that he’s not just doing what he’d otherwise be doing, that his actions are a targeted attempt to make you lose your mind, to crawl under your skin and live there. that to him, it’s just a matter of time before you snap.

it starts with the cooking thing — he’s always cooking, has been attached to the kitchen since he was a kid, living with his uncle wayne down in virginia — sweet, sweltering hot virginia, where he got his twang and his first tattoos (the stick and poke smiley face on his ankle, the first set of knuckle tats, the bones of his face piece), his love of smoking cigarettes off the top of his trailer on cool, quiet nights with a sky full of stars. wayne, who’s still down in virginia in a cabin that eddie put the money down for with his chef money. uncle wayne, who taught him to gut a fish and skin a deer and whose peach cobbler recipe he’s still trying to get just right. wayne, who he still calls every sunday as he fixes both of you a full dinner spread with greens and sweet potato and baked chicken.

to eddie, cooking is home, and family, roots and heart — it’s more than a love language. it’s a soul language, and he speaks it fluently, teaches it to everyone he lets get close to him.

and it only take a couple of weeks before he’s speaking it to you day and night, until you barely have to lift a finger in the kitchen because he’s got you, because he’s always got you. he’s got you for breakfast, with thick cuts of salmon and fat, fluffy vegan pancakes. with fresh squeezed juice and sausages that he picks up from the polish supermarket in brown paper bags every sunday, because he’s got a plug for that, and a plug for the freshest fruit in-season, for big juicy strawberries and peach preserves and purple kale.

he feeds you, everyday — with leftovers from the restaurant shifts he works until 3 in the morning — he brings you the day’s specials, whatever they are, spoils you with mushroom risotto and grilled eggplant and bucatini made in-house with the most flavorful tomato sauce you’ve ever tasted. if the special is seafood, he brings it home in a freezer bag, with sliced lemon on the side — he serves you your first oyster, your first bite of squid ink pasta, your first full lobster.

he’ll knock on your door at some ungodly hour, and when you invite him in he’s got a plate loaded up for you, bags under his eyes and a tired smile. he’ll watch you take that first bite, make that first satisfied noise, because he knows you’ve been at the drafting table for hours making adjustments to a new garment in time for an editorial shoot over the weekend.

no matter how tired he is, he’ll sit on your bed, looking so out of place amongst your plushies that it makes you bite down a giggle at the sight of him, looking sharp and dangerous surrounded by soft things. no matter how tired he is, he’ll ask you about your day and listen intently, wrinkle between his eyes as he does — and even though you’re shy at first, talking to him about fashion, he’s encouraging, asking you questions until you loosen up a little and you’re talking his ear off about sustainable dyeing practices and bias cuts and the art of the gather. and you know he’s too tired to take it all in but he’ll fight it, yawning in-between questions like you can use onions skins as dye, that’s crazy, what else have you tried and you did that all by hand? so fucking cool — yeah, i mean I can do patches but it’s nothing like that, used to just use dental floss and it wasn’t super clean, nothing like what you do, that’s way more punk, you made a fucking jacket from scratch.

and he makes you shy when he gets like that, when he gives you all his attention, when he keeps track of every bite like you’re suddenly going to hate his cooking, like he’s ready at any moment to fix it for you, to go right back into the kitchen and make you something from scratch, like he wasn’t just groaning about the longest fucking shift of my life, darlin’, you wouldn’t believe — had to hide in the lockup at midnight cuz we just got back to back fucked, substitution after substitution, and i like getting creative, don’t get me wrong, but what the fuck do we have a menu for?

he lights up a little when he talks about the kitchen though, about gareth who does dishes and robin and steve who run the front of house like it’s the navy.

he’ll grin when you scrunch your nose up because he’s smoked through another pack in one shift, flash his teeth and say beats the alternatives, glad you didn’t meet me all strung out and 21, would’ve been vibrating around your room, rearranged the kitchen, lit a real fire in the fireplace.

even on his worst nights, after an actual hell-shift, when his texts get short and a little snappy, when he stops assaulting your chat with emojis, when he spells out every single word and doesn’t reply for hours and all you get after that is a “don’t wait up x”. even when you hear him come in, dragging himself through the apartment like his body is dead weight, even on the worst nights — you’ll wake up in the morning to a spanish omelette on the counter and a sticky note that says “getting some air, sorry about last night x”, as if he has anything to apologize for, as if he’s not allowed to be human.

it’s all so domestic — he makes your home a warm cloud to lay in. he makes you feel so at ease, like he’s got you, like he’s a safe place to land.

which is where the problem comes in — because your roommate eddie, your sweet, doting, sensitive eddie, who cries when he says “love you, g’bye” to his uncle wayne without fail every single time they talk, who has taken in one of the neighbors cats (cerberus, sweet and soft and definitely using him for his top-shelf tuna connections) as if it is his own, and calls his guitar sweetheart and shimmies his way around the kitchen on sundays humming let’s hear it for the boys.

that eddie — sweet, darling doting eddie — is a fucking deviant.

he doesn’t show it too often, keeps it tucked away with impressive self-control, maybe even tries to hide it from you until he’s sure you’re settled, until you start to wonder if you just imagined that glint in his eyes the first day you met him — until the mask slips, until you catch a glimpse of his shadow once more and you think to yourself “there he is”.

it happens because of a bottle of tequila — because it always does. you go out drinking with him and his work friends, because you lost all of yours in the breakup, and eddie says he’s already told everyone all about you, that they already love you, c’mon sweetheart, it’s my night off and i wanna celebrate, know you got that shoot coming up, barely been drinking water you’re working so much, don’t think i haven’t noticed. come dance with me, just one night, i promise i’ll get you back in one piece.

and when he puts you on the spot like that, makes you feel exposed like that, looks at you with his bambi eyes all wide like that, you can’t really say no.

so you get all dressed up (change your outfit three times, because it’s been a long time since you’ve been out and you wanna make a good impression, damn it), and you might be freaking out a little. but then eddie yells out “c’mon honey, bet you look perfect, lemme see you”, and you swallow that anxiety because you like the way his voice curls around the words like that, that honey-twang he’s got cuz you’ve both been pre-gaming a little (him with a homemade margarita, you with a glass of red wine). it makes you brave, makes you take a deep breath and step out into the living room. and you both see each other all dressed up for the first time and — something shifts.

something tilts on its god damn axis — it’s the start of the end.

his hair is wild. big and dark and wild and sparkling through like he’s sprayed glitter in it. he’s got the most delicious black leather jacket on, fit perfect to his body and aged just right. he’s got this sheer fucking fabric stretched across his torso — it’s barely a shirt, just a scrap of something dark that lets you see the cut of his hips and the ink in his skin and the silver rings in his nipples.

his pants are low cut, ripped jagged across both knees, like he busted them open skating — and his boots are obscene, steel-toed shit-kickers, red-laces cutting through them like veins. he looks so good you want to stomp your feet and whine “not fair, who gave you eyeliner, that’s cheating”.

he looks like a young god, like hell on legs, like a flashing neon sign that says “i am going to fuck your life up and you’re going to thank me for it”. you suddenly can’t read.

the way he’s looking at you makes your mouth dry up, makes your thighs press together, makes you want to fall to your knees and worship. it’s all that desire you forgot that he possessed, that you only catch flashes of in the quiet moments — when he’s giving you a taste of something new and his eyes travel down to your lips wrapping round the edge of the spoon, when you hum low and pleased with your eyes closed and you open them up and he’s giving you that look again, that “run, rabbit, run” look.

for the first time in weeks he’s not hiding any of it from you — runs his gaze over your face and down your neck, across your shoulder and down your stomach, to your hips and both your thighs (he takes his time right there, sees you twitch, darts up to meet your eyes real quick, almost-smiles, like he’s saying “got you”)

and then up, up, up again. he takes his time. he runs his tongue across his lips, comes up real close and tugs on one of your braids with a scrunch between his brows, looks down at you and blows out a quiet rush of air and says “we should go, right now” like he means “before i do something i regret”.

that night, something inside you snaps.

his friends all clearly know something you don’t, and they are varying degrees of subtle about it. chrissy hugs you and smiles big and bright and says aren’t you the prettiest god damn thing i’ve ever seen but she’s looking at eddie when she says it, and it makes your face heat up.

robin and steve are all wry and knowing, bitchy in a fun way, exchanging little smiles with each other, all he’s finally let you out the dungeon, huh? thought he was gonna keep you all to himself.

jon is quiet but he gives eddie this little nod like “i see you” and his boyfriend argyle is already two-thirds into a bottle of casamigos so he just says the quiet part out loud, somehow makes it sound so chill, like it’s not a big deal that he takes one look at you and goes holy shit, eddie wasn’t lying, you’re like — what the fuck, i’d write songs about you too. doesn’t even give you a second to unpack all that before there’s a shot in your hand.

and then the drinks keep flowing and you start to loosen up and enjoy yourself and eddie doesn’t seem phased by any of the teasing, sits close to you and takes sips out of his drink (fruity, staining his tongue red as punch, sickly sweet when he lets you have a taste of it), keeps his eyes on you all night, just takes it all in stride — like he was expecting this, like he’s made his peace.

and you’re too drunk now to let it go, so you turn to him while steve and rob are busy bullying everyone else and you slur out something like so you’re obsessed with me, huh? and he smiles sharp and dirty and goes you don’t wanna go there with me honey, and you say why not, you’re all talk, don’t pussy out on me and his eyes go pitch black.

he nods his head, hums to himself. “noted.”

and it just goes down, down, down from there. because now you’re worked up, feeling bratty, feeling mean. you nod too, and he’s just taking you in, sitting too close, watching you like he’s curious, like he’s just delighted at the thought of what you’re gonna do next. bet, you think. let’s go, then.

steve seems like your best bet, so you ask him if he wants to dance, sugary sweet and wide-eyed, and he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night, says later losers, time to have some actual fun and takes your hand, cutting eddie a look like the cat that got the cream as you climb over his lap on your way out.

eddie’s just looking, looking, looking. quiet storm brewing across his face. leans in close before you’re gone to whisper “careful, baby” in your ear, like a warning.

you just smile at him, shrug. come get me, big bad.

dancing with steve is easy, his arm across your back, your hips pressed close. he says “your boy’s watching, wanna give him something to look at?” and you pout, tell him “he’s not gonna do shit, stevie, he’s all talk”.

steve smiles at you like you’re so dumb, just delightfully stupid, so you ask him what he knows and he says “i know he’s real sweet on you, but you better watch it, honey — eddie’s not the one to play with.”

and then he leans into your ear and tells you a story about a wolf who walks like a man and talks like a man and acts like a sheep — but he’s a wolf, honey. he likes to bite, likes to play with his food — keeps his prey tied down in his lair and takes them apart, piece by piece, until they’re crying, begging, until the fight leaves them all at once and they go empty between the ears, until they’re just gone. and then he just keeps taking, taking, taking. until they’ve got nothing left to give him.

and the music is so syrupy sweet that you’re lost in it, lost in the roll of your hips, lost in steve’s voice rumbling in your ears, low and hypnotic, lost in the drinks flowing through your veins — until steve has to hold you by the chin and force you to look up at him and say “still with me, little lamb?”

your throat is dry when you ask him how he knows what he knows, and he just looks over your shoulder (you know who he’s looking at, you feel those eyes across your back, he’s always watching, he just never stops looking) and tilts his chin up and goes why don’t you ask him yourself, honey?

and then eddie’s right there, pressed up against your back — leaning down to your ear to ask if you’re having fun, and for a second you’re pressed up between them both, letting steve rock you back into eddie, letting eddie grip you by the hips and pull you back, back, back, guiding you into a slow, filthy grind. your eyes fall close, you barely notice steve pressing a kiss to your temple, trilling have funnnn before he’s gone into the crowd again.

you still with me, eddie asks, at the same time you spin round and ask him “you fucked steve?”

he laughs a little and hums i see y’all been getting acquainted, pulls you close again and says jealous, honey?

you say you wish, and then you did, didn’t you? said you act like a sheep, but you’re not, are you? you’re a wolf.

he looks down at you, runs his hands under the straps of your top, presses his palms to the skin of your back, dips his head down. you know, i wanted to do this right — wanted to woo you and shit. feed you, keep you warm, treat you sweet.

and you know, you know, you know. what are you gonna do with me now, eddie?

he just looks at you. looks and looks, pulls you closer, let’s his hand creep down, down, down, makes the heat in your body swoop down low in your tummy when he grips you hard over your skirt, sweeps one hand in your hair and gets his fingers tangled in your braids, all the way down to the root and tugs, real mean with it.

he makes you bare your neck to him, makes you gasp, makes you wanna beg. for his teeth in your neck, for his hands between your thighs, for his mouth on you. you gonna hurt me, eddie?

he shrugs. i don’t know yet, honey. you gonna ask me nice for it? gonna ask for what you want instead of being a rude little brat, making me think you wanna fuck my friends?

your mouth goes dry. i wasn’t tryna —

nah, you just wanted me to think it, didn’t you? his voice drops low, mean, dark. dumb bunny, you didn’t actually think that was gonna work, did you? steve likes em big and bad, and you’re fucking nothing like that, are you? pretty little doll, he’d eat you alive.

he’s all inside your head, barely leaving you any space for yourself, and the way he sneers dumb bunny makes you squirm, makes you ache. he’s got you pinned in place like a fly in amber, nowhere else to run. and you wouldn’t?

he tilts his head, hums, says it again, wanted to do this right, wanted to lay you out on my bed and make you feel good. he mouths a kiss across your neck, traces his tongue across the skin, just the tip, just a tease. asked me if i was obsessed with you. stupid fucking question, baby. knew you were mine, first second i saw you, walked into my house and made it all strawberry and honey, seeped into everything, kept me up at night with it — and now it’s all over our home, our fucking home.

he uses his teeth, opens his mouth wide like a beast, like he can’t just smell you, like he needs the taste of it too, needs to feel the flesh between his teeth. and you can see right though me, can’t you, baby? the others, they think they see it, think they know what i think when i look at you, but you know, don’t you? you’ve always known.

you know. you’ve known. he wants inside your skin, wants to worm his way deep and build a home there. wants to keep you fed, keep you full, make you happier than anyone could. wants to own your happiness and your hunger, greedy over it. fucked up over the thought of anyone taking care of you better than he could, knows in his soul that no one else could. it makes you scared, makes you warm, makes you feel insane. you should run, should find a new apartment and start over because you’re so raw, and vulnerable, and he could hurt you, he wants to hurt you —

you tilt your head back, you run your hands across his shoulders, over his back, up into his hair, and you grab a handful and pull. he makes a noise like a wounded dog. he pants for it, folds forward like he got the breath knocked out of him — you think he’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine, feel him kick up against you, big and warm and hard against your hip and your head swims with the thought. over and over, the same thought — mine, mine, mine.

yeah, sweet thing, m’yours, all yours, all of it, all yours, he whines, just for you. must’ve heard you, must’ve said it out loud. he sounds hollowed out, like you’ve let all his air out, and you’re wild for it.

tell me how, you say. you tug his head down so you can speak into his ear, and he goes down easy, so easy. when i let you take me to bed, when i let you have it, what will you do to me? what first?

a knife, he says, like a man possessed. toys with all your straps, slips his fingers underneath and tugs. wanna cut you out of this pretty fabric. look like an angel, wanna rip it to shreds, lay you down in the ribbons.

to ruin me, you say.

to make your heart race, he sings. he sways into you, sounds so consumed with desire it makes him drunk, makes him slur his words like his teeth are too big for his mouth. make you scared, make you wanna run so i can catch you. hold you down, press the blade up against your skin and play.

he wants to play. with a knife to your neck. fucking freak.

yours, yours, yours, he says. pulls back to look at you, hisses when you follow him with your hands in his hair, eyes rolling up and then back down, eyes half-shut, lights going out until it’s all a stretch of midnight without a star in the sky.

beautiful boy, you think. terrible, terrible, gorgeous boy.

wanna spit in your fucking mouth, he confesses. wanna hold my hand over your nose and watch your throat work as you swallow. wanna make you wet all over.

you’re already wet all over, and he knows that. can probably smell it, the wolf.

you’re still dancing, somehow. still swaying, still pressed up against each other, no room for common sense. his friends are nowhere to be seen — the crowd of bodies around you have all blurred away. you want to be home, in his bed, his lair, at his mercy. you tell him as much, and he smiles at you like he’s proud. love it when you tell me the truth, he says. love it when you show me.

better make it worth it, eddie, you say. better make it hard to leave your bed in the morning.

and then, he sings. and then, and then, and then.

greedy boy, you think, never gonna let me go, never gonna let anyone else touch me ever again.

you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, red and sweet and sharp. and then, you say, then you’re gonna feed me, like you always do.

[howdy-cowpoke]

TIMING: The night of the fire, after everyone else is gone. LOCATION: Prickly Pear Acres PARTIES: Monty (@howdy-cowpoke) & Kaden (@chasseurdeloup) (feat. Dallas) SUMMARY: The boys deal with the aftermath. Poorly. CONTENT WARNINGS: n/a

—

The fire had burned itself out. The guests were gone, the paramedics and firefighters and police had left… the place was empty. Charred black, the buildings crumbling in on themselves, the smell of death in the air even more so than usual. Three humanoid figures stood at the edge of the road with a small smattering of animals around them, silent as they tried to process… everything. Dallas stood guard on its opposite side. In his hands were all the makeshift leads they had thrown together for the horses and llama, and at his feet sat the dogs. Philip stuck close to his side as well, bleating every now and then but otherwise behaving. 

Monty and Kaden were on the other side of the road nearest the farm, or what remained of it. Monty was gripping the fence in front of him and staring blankly out at what had once been his home. He’d lost everything. Everyone, damn near. He could still hear Daisy’s laugh from earlier that night, still see Ford’s smiling face and Beth’s bright, youthful eyes. But they were gone. All of them. Whoever had done this had succeeded, and everyone who lived and worked on the farm but himself, Dallas, and Kaden had been murdered. The fire had covered the evidence of this, likely by design. And their own natures prevented them from telling any officials the truth, so an accident it was. An accident. 

Monty’s breath hitched in his throat but his expression was blank. He was still in shock, still stuck in fight or flight mode. He kept waiting for someone to come walking out of the black, ash covered fields… kept straining his eyes and hoping to see Daisy come strolling through the lingering smoke, lifting her hat in a wave. But she didn’t come, of course she didn’t come. She was dead. They were all dead. 

Dallas cleared his throat, walking the animals across the road towards them. “Y’all stay here,” he grumbled. “I’ll go get us a truck n’ a trailer.” There were nearby farms that would help, he knew. They had to get these animals loaded up and taken somewhere. Monty and Kaden could figure that out while he was gone, he surmised. Anyway, they might need some time… alone. Ish. 

—

The night had started to settle. Not in peace, though. It settled like a stain, dark and murky. This night wasn’t as covered in blood as the last time, it was laced with soot instead of iron, but the death was the same. If not worse. 

There was nothing more to do, not immediately, but it was calm all the same. Calm but empty. Kaden felt empty. Like his future had been hollowed out, stolen from him, from Monty, from every single person who had called Prickly Pear their home. It was like a kick in the gut when he realized that there were only three of those people left standing there. There were only three of them that were homeless. The rest were dead.

The rest were dead.

It didn’t feel real. Kaden wanted something more to do, another task, another action to take, a next step. Anything to prolong reality from staining deeper. But Monty had stopped. He was still, clawing onto the fence. Some part of him was afraid that the man would take off running back onto the property, searching for anything left. At the same time, he may have preferred that instead of the stillness. The emptiness.

His hand found Monty’s, laid over top of his on the bit of fence that was left. More felt dangerous, like it could open the floodgates too soon. Only, was it too soon? Was there anything left but the emotions of it all? 

No, there was one more step, one more decision. Where did they go from here? Kaden swallowed, unsure if his voice would work if he tried to speak. “The cabin,” he said, voice croaking. “We could— I still have the cabin.” It was mostly stripped bare, only odds and ends left of his belongings and his cousin’s. The place that was once so full of life and felt almost too small for the three of them when they all lived there was a shell of itself now. 

A shell was better than nothing. 

Manzanita rubbed her head against his side. Putain, that was right. “I’m not sure what to do about the animals, though.” 

—

Monty heard Dallas speaking, understood what he was saying, but didn’t react. Even as the other zombie tied the leads to the fence and started to jog off down the road to the nearest farm, Monty just stood there, staring dead ahead, waiting for something else to happen. 

Kaden’s voice filled the void after Dallas’ steps had retreated into silence. The cabin. He blinked, allowing his thoughts to jump away from the fiery inferno that’d been here hours earlier and instead imagine the cabin he’d been to so many times in the past, now sitting alone and empty in the woods. It was all they had left, wasn’t it? 

“I will build them a shelter,” Monty answered, surprised by the sound of his own voice. He wasn’t even sure if he’d still had one. There was room on the land surrounding the cabin for this. And if he cut down some trees, he could give the horses a large enough paddock for them to exercise freely in. Yes… it would be an undertaking, but he could do it. He could do it quickly, especially since he did not need to sleep. And he needed to. He needed something to keep him from thinking about—

He looked over at Kaden, but his gaze was distant. “When Dallas comes back, we will… load them up.” Monty’s own truck was within their line of sight: it had been moved at some point, by who he wasn’t sure, but he was grateful for that now. Grateful that he always left his keys in the ignition. “Take them there. I will… find a way to build. You have nails, yes? Some tools left over? I will use what we have until morning, then I will go to the hardware store and get more.” It was clear he was avoiding having a conversation about the topic at hand, his gaze wandering and hands fidgeting in front of him. Habanero whinnied softly and the cowboy dropped his gaze to the dirt road beneath their feet as if guilt had overcome him. “I can have it ready in a day or two, I think—and I will make them a paddock, and the dogs can stay inside with us. Philip will probably also prefer to be inside, if that is okay, he’s not usually one to get into trouble—”

—

Kaden was exhausted just listening to Monty’s plans to build a paddock but, if he was being honest, he’d rather throw himself into building alongside his partner rather than sleep. His body had other ideas, however. He was a ranger, not a slayer — he needed a normal amount of sleep, even if he rarely got that. 

He rubbed his palms down his face, almost hoping to see the farm back in place when he could look out across the way again, but it was no use. It was gone. It was really and truly gone. And Monty was running from that fact, seemingly. Not that Kaden could blame him. He didn’t want to face any of this himself and it wasn’t his farm. It wasn’t what he had built over the last five or six years. It had become his home, sure, but it wasn’t the same. 

He wasn’t going to think about how many of his own belongings had gone up in the flames with the rest. He wasn’t sure if he could. Not yet. Hey, at least he still had his family hunter journals back at the cabin, all intact and unburnt. Useful. Just what he needed. 

“Of course he can stay inside. He’s inside the house half the time anyway.” His own words stung. Kaden spoke as if the farmhouse was still standing, that it would be back any minute. Right. “Yeah, there are tools and things. Andy left stuff and I had things from fixing up the cabin. I don’t know if we have lumber but there’s probably enough to get started on.” 

He wanted to take a deep breath, but the thought of filling his lungs with the smoke and death made his stomach churn. So did the idea of lying in the bed in the mostly empty cabin with the dogs and Philip while Monty did his best to make a paddock overnight. “Can you–” He stopped, clamping his jaw shut before he could say something stupid. He wasn’t going to ask Monty to stay still, to help him get to sleep, not tonight. Not yet. Even so, he wondered if the man should be left alone. Kaden didn’t have a solution. Except one. “I’ll help. Much as I can. Maybe just shouldn’t be the one using the saw.” He leaned over, wrapping an arm around the cowboy’s waist, as much to help steady himself as to offer comfort. 

—

The instinct to find work in the face of loss was a trained one. In the days of Hector, there had never been time or space for mourning. If one of them was killed, it almost certainly meant that the law was on their scent, and they needed to pack up and move. Tearing down tents and tables, storing everything back in the caravan and getting the horses hooked up and ready to ride hard for days on end — there was no time. They might recover the bodies if they could, but usually not. Usually there was no sort of burial, no honest goodbye. At most, there’d be a night of drinking in the wake of the death where people would share their favorite memories of the deceased. There was no time for a vigil, no place for an ofrenda. And Monty never usually took part in the drinking. He cared for his found family, he did, but facing their mortality, facing the reality of the life he had been dragged into and had since accepted was often too much for him. So he kept his distance from the bonfires, lingering on the edges of their new campsites to instead tend to the horses and make sure all of the wagons had been properly unloaded. 

He did not handle death well, which was ironic, considering.

But… he had also never really had someone who was going through that death experience with him. The last time their farm had been attacked, Kaden had helped the rest of the farm hands stay up all night while they gathered the dead to bury them. There’d been no complaint or hesitation from any of them, but maybe that strength came from community; from the ceaseless, tireless support of a dozen or more undead people dedicated to the animals they cared for. It was just them now. Just the two of them and Dallas, who had already demonstrated that iron will to get things done even when all you wanted to do was collapse to the ground. Monty had to be strong like that, too, right? He had to keep them moving. But as he looked at Kaden, as he heard the hesitation in the other’s voice and saw how exhausted he appeared, Monty’s resolve began to weaken. Maybe it wasn’t the answer, not now. Not this time. Kaden agreed to help, and the guilt returned. That arm snaked around his waist, and Monty felt something terrible creeping up to the surface. 

“I…” He thought of Dallas, jogging down the road in the dead of night to go bother some poor neighbor and ask them for help. He wondered what the man was thinking, what he was feeling, in the absence of his twin brother. None of them had made it, god, none of them. “No, I… you don’t…” He couldn’t push Kaden like he had always pushed himself. That wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. But he knew what his partner feared, and he couldn’t make him face that alone, either. Monty turned to face Kaden in his grasp, lifting his hands to frame the other’s face. He felt his chest constrict and cave inward as a sob tried to sneak its way out, but the zombie held onto it, briefly closing his eyes in response. “... actually, I think that the horses and llama will be fine hitched outside for one night,” he compromised, afraid of what that meant he was going to have to confront that night. The sooner the better, right? Kaden needed sleep, and sleep was not going to come if they didn’t… talk. Or something. 

He stared up at Kaden for a few seconds longer before pulling the metaphorical pin out of the grenade. “What am I going to do without her?” he asked in a small, trembling voice. It wasn’t a question he expected to have answered, but he needed to speak his despair out into the world. Daisy was gone, and he didn’t know what to do with that. She’d been his rock through everything since arriving in Wicked’s Rest, and she’d helped him become the person he was today. Whenever he didn’t know what to do, he always turned to her. She was his best friend, his most trusted confidant, and she was just… gone. 

His emotions betrayed him, refusing to remain behind bars any longer. The grenade went off, and Monty buried himself in Kaden’s embrace, hugging onto him like he was the last lifeline the zombie had. 

—

“We can make a hitching post quick if we need to. Put up a tarp, maybe.” Kaden was almost certain that Monty would insist on doing it all himself, that he would push the ranger away for the night, keep an arm’s length if only to hold off his own burden of grief. He didn’t know what he would do if his partner tried, if that was the path he wanted to take, but it didn’t matter. The cowboy turned to face him and Kaden knew that the dam was about to break. He wouldn’t call it relief, but something close to it when he recognized that look. It didn’t last past the point that the man in his arms crumbled under the weight of the night. 

Putain, he wished he had an answer for Monty, some sort of salve that could treat the pain that sat deeper, well beyond the surface level burns. What was he going to do without Daisy? Without the farm? Without any of what he’d built? Without his home? He didn’t know. He didn’t know and there was nothing to say that could begin to answer it all. 

The only thing he could do was hold on. He held onto Monty, held him up and held onto the lifeline between them just as tight. Parts of him wanted to collapse, too, to give into it all, but he would save his grief for later if he could. Right now he needed to hold onto his partner as he let the loss around him sink in, his arms wrapped tight around him, fingers combed through his hair as he held on, his body pressed as close as he could. There was no way to keep Monty from falling apart, not after everything that happened, but he wanted to be ready to pick up the pieces best he could. 

It was easier if all he had to focus on was Monty. His loss. His family. His belongings. His animals. It was easier if Kaden didn’t have to acknowledge what had been his own. For now, he just had to hold on. 

—

Grief, Monty discovered, felt very different when you were not shoving it away, masking it and suffering that internal turmoil alone. Standing here, held up by Kaden and loved in a way he’d never been loved before, finally allowing himself to feel what he needed to, he realized why the others in his past life had always shared their grief around the fire and used liquor as a means to help them express themselves. They might not’ve wept into each other’s arms, but they had that sense of camaraderie that Monty had always lacked, had always removed himself from. He’d often felt suffocated by his grief, but the worst had come on that day that Hector turned on him. When all the man could see was a monster, when Monty had no more breath to steal. That had been the worst pain he’d ever felt, and it burrowed in deep. As he fled, first Oaxaca and then the country all together, it had taken root in his heart. It kept him away from people, working to survive but never, ever letting anyone get that close again. Despite not needing to breathe, he’d been suffocating for decades. The grief was ever-present, never leaving him be, never letting him grow beyond it. 

Not until he’d met Daisy. She had recognized that grief, somehow, and carefully weeded it from his chest. Teased it apart until it was a separate thing, a thing he could put in a box and put away for the first time in a century. He owed her for that. He owed her for this life he had now — if not for her, he’d still be a vagabond, drifting aimlessly as he just tried to avoid confronting what had damaged him. But she had made it her mission to course-correct him, and needing someone else to take that sort of control, Monty had allowed it. And he’d flourished, hadn’t he? For a time. Everything he’d just lost was thanks to her. Even the things he hadn’t lost, the person doing his best to be there for Monty while dealing with his own sense of loss, had only ever become more than a casual acquaintance because Monty remembered what Daisy had said to him. You’ve got to start lettin’ people in, sugar. Don’t be afraid. Most of us are real nice, I promise. You meet someone you like because they make you laugh, because you got the same values, or even just cuz they’re cute! You let ‘em in, alright? Try, anyway. For me. And he had. He’d invited Kaden to get coffee with him, because Kaden had somehow managed to do everything Daisy had ever said was worthy of getting to know someone better in a single afternoon. And he was cute. 

He wasn’t suffocating this time, but he felt weak. He wasn’t sure how to climb this mountain, because he’d never really done it before. Kaden had, though. Kaden had lost someone close to him and had come out of it still capable of having love in his heart. So all Monty really knew was that he’d need his partner beside him for this. Without him and without Daisy, he feared he might fall deeper into that canyon where there was no air to breathe, and where no sunlight could reach him. He didn’t want to go back there. 

It was unclear how long they’d been standing there, barely holding themselves together, when the rumble of an engine met their ears. Monty only reacted after Kaden had, lifting his head and swiping a hand over his eyes as he looked down the road to see two headlights coming their way, the sound of the truck followed by the familiar squeak and rattle of a trailer bouncing down an old dirt road. The cowboy sighed with relief, glad to get them all moving again. Lingering here on the edge of the burned out property was getting to be too much. 

The truck came to a stop, and Dallas climbed out of it. Leaving the door open and the engine running, he approached the two with a solemn look on his face. “Y’all take the trailer, I can follow in your truck, boss,” he said, unhitching Habanero from the fence. Monty nodded, looking to Kaden. He wasn’t sure what Dallas wanted to do once everyone was settled, but he wasn’t going to turn the man away. 

—

Kaden didn’t know much, he never claimed to, but he knew that there was nothing that he could say or do to make this better. Nothing could bring back what was lost — who they’d lost. He was familiar with that feeling in a way he wished he wasn’t. Monty should have been an old hat at loss by this point, too. He’d had years and years and though the ranger knew that the cowboy was no stranger to it, it was clear that he’d never suffered anything like this, nothing he’d ever let himself care about this deeply had been stripped away. Kaden knew the man had only opened himself up to living in the world around him within the past few years. Loss didn’t hurt you if you didn’t give yourself anything to lose. He knew that, too. 

The worst part was that Daisy wasn’t supposed to leave. She wasn’t supposed to die. She was supposed to stay long after Kaden was old and gone (well, if he made it to old age, he couldn’t say he really anticipated that). She was exactly who the cowboy needed as a friend and it always brought the hunter some comfort to know that she’d be there once he was gone. Monty wasn’t supposed to be alone. He couldn’t be—

Right, that was right. He wasn’t alone. Not right now. Neither of them were alone even if it probably felt that way. Kaden buried his face in Monty’s hair as he inhaled deep, still catching small scents of leather and hay under all the smoke and ash stinging at his nostrils. Would that be what he always smelled like now? Ash? Would the hay and leather be left in the past?

The smoke must have gotten into his eyes too, leaving them aching as he wiped tears away from them. It was the smoke. He was sure of it. Because it had to be. He had to hold himself together for his partner. Even if it was by a thread, he had to hold on for the rest of the night at the very least. He couldn’t think about how Daisy had always been there, had always been kind and bright, had clearly been the one to push Monty out of his shell and the reason why he was even standing there. He wasn’t going to remember the first football game on the farm when he had Daisy on his team, how she went along with his plan to distract Monty. Putain, he could use a good distraction right about now.

The lights beamed at them from down the road right on cue as Dallas rolled the truck and trailer towards them. Right. Time for the next part of the plan, the next action. He could do that. He gave his partner one last squeeze for good measure before heading over to the truck to help load in the few remaining animals. Some were still panicked and fretting but others were too exhausted by now to even think about panicking.

It was too few. This was too few. Three people and far too few animals. 

Kaden wasn’t going to think about that. Instead he turned to Monty once they were all settled and asked, “You want to drive or should I?” He didn’t know if his partner was up for it but at the same time, he figured concentrating on the road might be a good distraction in the moment. “I don’t mind either way.” 

—

Taro, Manzanita, Habanero, Sellama, Philip, Cinder, and Pomelo. These were all that remained on the side of the road with them: Monty knew that others had run for safety, and he hoped that they would find it. He hoped they would be found by people who would care for them, or at least who would contact Monty to let him know where they were, after he put up signs. But he knew, too, that a large number of prey animals escaping into the woods more likely meant that the predators of those forests would be eating well in the coming weeks. 

He didn’t like thinking about it. 

Clicking his tongue and patting the rear seat of the truck, Monty stepped aside to let Cinder and Pomelo leap up into the cab, then shut the door behind the dogs. Dallas was already in Monty’s truck, turning the engine over and waiting for them to take the lead. Monty looked at Kaden, thinking about his offer, then nodded his head at the driver’s side seat. “You drive,” he said softly, not trusting himself to remember the way even though he had driven that path many times over in the last year. 

The radio was off and the windows down. The dogs lay whimpering and trembling in the backseat, and Monty could hear Philip complaining from the trailer, bleating into the night. The cowboy leaned his head back and closed his eyes, replaying the events of the night in his mind. Running to the stables, flying up the steps of the main house as it burned around him to get the dogs out, standing down at the road with the others when he realized Daisy was not present. He’d tried to go back in after her, but he’d been stopped. At that point, the fire had consumed everything. Whoever was still left on the property was lost, but Monty hadn’t wanted to believe it. He’d fought to get free, to sprint back into the flames himself. He’d screamed her name, but was met with deadly silence. He felt sick. He felt — 

Monty clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might crack a tooth. He wasn’t sure if he felt more forlorn or furious in that moment, the two blending to create an emotion that made it difficult to sit still. He wondered how long he was going to feel like this, swinging wildly between depressed and enraged. 

He wondered if Kaden felt the same. He wondered if Kaden, in those moments of anger, felt like he wanted to go after the people that had done this. 

Monty did. 

—

Kaden nodded and slid into the front seat, hands gripping the steering wheel as he waited for the dogs to tumble into the back. He checked the rear view mirror and saw Shadow was already there curled up before the other two canines had a chance to settle in. In all the chaos and confusion, the one thing he knew was that he didn’t have to worry about his own dog. Whatever part of the anomaly that had given the canine the ability to phase through walls had made him hard to keep track of as a puppy but it was a blessing in instances like this. Putain, he hoped that there wouldn’t be more of this in the future but he was fooling himself if he thought this was the last dangerous situation they’d face in this town. 

The urge to lash out and slam the heel of his hand into the horn swelled through him. But the blaring sound never came. His hands never left the steering wheel except to turn the ignition and put the truck in drive. Kaden couldn’t find the energy to summon any anger, not now. All of his focus was on the path ahead of him, the pavement lit by the headlights as they drove to the cabin. He wanted it to feel like going home; he told himself they were going home. 

It only felt like they were driving away from it. From the ashes that remained. Not enough of them had walked away. 

The white dashes on the road marched along as the truck rolled forward. Kaden watched them, finding a sort of trance in them. He had to. Otherwise he might have to face the death, carry it with him and let it soak in. He would have to face that death found a way of following him, that he never felt like he could find solid ground. No, he wasn’t going to think about that. He was going to simply watch the lines on the road ahead all the way to the cabin.

Once they pulled in and he turned off the truck, he was stuck again. The easy part had passed. The getting from point A to point B. Now they had to deal with the animals. Find what was still there for them in the cabin. Figure out how to sleep (well, at least he had to do that much). It all felt like a fifty meter tall wall staring at him in the face, blocking the way. Getting out of the car would mean he would have to start climbing. 

At least he wasn’t alone. As hollow and empty as it all felt, at least there was that. Kaden reached out and took one of Monty’s cold hands in his own, giving it a squeeze, unsure if it was more for his own sake or his partner’s, a small reminder that they hadn’t lost everything. Even if it felt like damn near close. 

—

All the anger that had been building inside him evaporated once they actually reached the cabin and Kaden took his hand. It looked imposing in the darkness of the hour, standing like a monument to his failure to protect the people he cared about and the home he had built. Here is where mistakes come to fester and rot. Here is where you’ll be reminded every day that you weren’t good enough to keep anyone safe. … It was just a cabin. A cabin he’d had no problem with until now — until their shell shocked crawl had brought them here with nowhere else to go. It was just a cabin that felt like defeat, that looked like remorse, that sounded like recompense as he heard the wind whistling through slightly ajar windows and tall trees creaking overhead once they’d gotten out of the truck. 

It was just a cabin. 

Dallas pulled up beside them, killing the engine and getting out of the truck. He nodded at the pair, then gestured at the cabin. “Go inside,” he told them. “Go rest. I can take care of things out here.” Monty inhaled sharply, ready to tell him absolutely not, but the stern look that flashed across the large man’s face shut him up. “I’ve got it,” Dallas insisted, glancing at the borrowed trailer still packed full of animals. “I’ll get ‘em set up with a place to sleep, boss. Take the dogs, n’ go inside.” Knowing there was no sense in arguing with Dallas once he’d set his mind to something, Monty just nodded and looked to Kaden. He swayed on the spot for a moment before reaching for his hand again, giving him a gentle tug toward the front door of the cabin. Dallas stood quietly in the dark for a few moments before beginning his inspection of the property, flashlight in hand as he hunted for the best place to build a crude shelter. 

Three dogs in tow, the couple ascended the steps on the porch and made their way into the house. It felt cold, even though Monty couldn’t really sense such things. His gaze drifted to the staircase that led up to the place Kaden used to sleep, when his cousins were here. How badly Monty wished for their bright, comforting presence now. The dogs were already milling about, sniffing everything as they toured the inside of the house like it was the first time they’d been here. Monty came to a stop in the living room, letting out a shuddering sigh. He could hear Dallas outside, encountering the shed where Andy’s woodworking supplies had been left. He should have had everything he needed for the task at hand, though that did little to assuage Monty’s guilt. He should be helping. He should be doing something, not just standing here. 

But Kaden needed rest. He needed sleep, if it would come. And Monty couldn’t just abandon him. “So… what comes first?”

[mayimkjs]

An In Depth Look At Mikoto, John and Midokoto

Taken from the FOOL's MATE research doc

Mikoto

Name: Mikoto (尊 / ミコト)

Other names: Aokoto (葵コト), Bokukoto (僕コト), Bluekoto

Gender: Male

Age: 23

Birthday: October 6th

Role: Host

Color: Blue

Foil: Kotoko, John

Tarot Card: The Hanged Man

Card Position: Upright 

Pronouns: Boku / 僕

Voice Type: High Baritone / Low Tenor

Likes: Shopping, Darts, Photography, Cycling, Horse meat sashimi, Pasta, Bubble tea, Pudding 

Diskiles: Staying up all night working, Reptiles, Violence

Personality: 

T1: Happy-go-lucky, Bubbly, Pacifist, People-pleaser, Energetic, Stubborn, Friendly 

T2: Friendly, Isolated

Details

Has fairly neat but quick handwriting.

Scared of John.

John has hinted that he may be suicidal and he cries himself to sleep some nights.

Laughs when he’s suffering.

Self conscious and wants to look like an adult.

Let's people walk all over him but he may not be as spineless or passive as he seems.

Started being uber positive when he started his current job.

Good speaking skills and he’s easy to talk to.  

He’s an extrovert. 

He might be a perfectionist.

Mikoto was already insanely popular after the first voice trailer. With the release of "MeMe" he became the most popular character.

He has an unhealthy obsession with how others see him. 

He’s likely been around as an alter for a long time, if not his entire life.

He may think he deserves all of the abuse he receives from his peers. 

He ignores his issues and pretend they don’t exist.

He’s proactive. 

He use to smoke cigarettes but he switched to vapes at some point. He started to do so to fit in at work. During Season 2, he stopped smoking all together. 

Often confused af

Tries to adapt to the situation.

Doesn't know what crime he committed and suspects that he got involved by mistake

Parents divorced when he was very young

Has a younger sister

He’s a graphic designer that’s bad at drawing. He works at a top notch advertising company and got this job right after he graduated college. His coworkers and boss exploit him and he’s overworked because of it. 

The other prisoners can hear noises coming from cell in the middle of the night

Can drink a lot of alcohol and used to drink a lot in university 

Did the bare minimum needed to get into a good company.

He believes he has a bad memory and sleepwalks. 

He isn’t a good sleeper and it’s rare that he gets a good night's rest. 

Has a habit of pulling his hair.

John

Name: John (ジョン)

Other names: Akakoto (赤コト), Orekoto (俺コト), Redkoto

Gender: Male

Age: Young

Birthday: Recent

Role: Protector 

Color: Red

Foil: Mikoto, Midokoto

Tarot Card: The Fool

Card Position: Upright

Pronouns: Ore / 俺

Voice Type: Mid Toned Baritone

Likes: Mikoto 

Dislikes: People flaunting themselves, Acting high-and-mighty, People who can't speak in a straightforward manner, Things that harm Mikoto

Personality: 

T1: Hostile, Impulsive

T2: Distant, Blunt, Hot-headed, Rational, Stoic, Desperate  

Details

His name is derived from the term “John Doe”.

Prone to violent outbursts and is very strong.

Very protective over Mikoto. He's willing to do anything for Mikoto's sake.

Truly sorry and regrets his actions.

Wants to disappear and take all of Mikoto's pain and weakness away with him.

Good speaking skills. 

Has messy handwriting and doesn’t seem to know how to write kanji. 

He’s right handed.

He is “new” and has essentially been a husk until recently. 

Due to the stress Mikoto was under in T2 because of his T1 verdict, John fronted more causing him to stabilize more.

He thinks that he’s a monster and things would be better had he stayed that way instead of developing to where he is now. 

A sort of “feel bad for me” type at times.

He may be the one that’s making noises in his cell at night.

He was born from Mikoto’s stress and fronts to deal with said stress. 

He might have self destructive coping mechanisms seeing that the damage to Mikoto’s uniform appears to be self inflicted. 

He’s likely the one making noises at night.

His identity is heavily tied to his role as protector. 

In his eyes, he failed as a protector by getting Mikoto into this situation.  

He’s reactive. 

Midokoto

Name: Midokoto (ミドコト)

Other names: Midorikoto (緑コト), Kyūseishu (救世主), Greenkoto

Gender: ??? (likely male)

Role: Gatekeeper

Color: Green

Foil: Mikoto, John

Tarot Card: The Hanged Man

Card Position: Reversed

Pronouns: Ore / 俺, Boku / 僕

Personality: Calm, Emotionless

Details

Currently has the fan-given name, Midokoto (ミドコト). His name is based on “Midori”, which means green. 

Calm and blank faced

Smokes real cigarettes

Very similar to Mikoto but also possibly a control freak and very stubborn 

Seems to reinforce and enable John’s violent yet protective nature

Possibly prefers to observe things.

He is more distantly related to the others compared to how closely depicted Mikoto and John are. 

He’s likely been around for a while. 

Not present in "Double".

[courtingchaos]

A Terrible Interlude

Summary: You meet Eddie’s dad. No one is happy about this.

Warnings: Shitty parents!

A/N: This is a little snippet I jotted down while finishing up part five of Rent. Just a little call back and some character exploration. There’s a tonal shift here that I’m not real sure about, but I think I like the direction it went in. This isn’t really proofread at all so apologies but this isn’t anything I was going to polish up anyways. Also it’s only mentioned once, but Evelyn is referring to Eddie’s mom. AlsoAlso you have the name Candice in this. It’s not going to show up again anytime soon I just needed a name.

“Edward.” His voice is the same low scratch it’s always been. Deep timber stuck between smoke stained lungs, an adolescence of coal mining on the backend. It’s funny that cough stuck around, considering he hadn’t stayed in that job very long. Stealing things was easier.

“Daniel.” Eddie replies with a tip of his chin. Likes the way his dad’s shoulders scrunch up at his full name.

“Boy, don’t start that shit-“ He’s cut off when Wayne puts a hand on his arm.

“Danny.” Just a warning from an older brother. Wayne looks down the steps at Eddie, concern in the small smile he shoots him. “Ed, your dad was just telling me about how he got here.” He watched the two of you walk up the road, laughter ringing out. Watched Eddie hitch you higher on his back. Wayne’s heart sinks knowing he’s about to ruin his nephews week.

“By bus I assume, isn’t that how they always drop you off?” Eddie’s defiant and still, hasn’t realized you’ve slid off his back yet. “Did they drop you off or did you just steal another car?”

Wayne moves first, cuts his brother off and leaves him to angrily suck down his cigarette on the top step. He gets close to Eddie, grabs his shoulder to pull him in. Doesn’t like that you’re here to witness this bullshit, it only ever goes south.

“Listen son,” he says this quiet. Danny never liked it when Wayne called his boy that. “He surprised both of us. Make nice for the afternoon and he’ll be gone by dinner time. He’s got a place to stay over in Elwood so he ain’t hanging around.” He gives Eddie a good shake to try to get him to look at him. Wayne sees a flash of rage in those brown eyes and for a moment Evelyn is staring at him. He straightens up, hand still clamped on Eddie’s shoulder and looks past him to you.

“Listen Dee, why don’t you head on home? Your mother’s got the night off right? Might like to see you for supper.”

You nod a bunch at Wayne, thankful for him noticing your dilema. You only get three steps backward before Daniel speaks up.

“Well you don’t need to send his friend away. Jesus Christ Wayne, I’m not gonna bite.”

“Danny, don’t turn this into a thing. She’s gotta go home. Probably got homework, like this one does.” He pulls Eddie forward a step, feels like he’s pulling an empty box along with him. “They spend enough time together, we can make introductions later.” They make for the steps and you try to high tail it but Daniel’s voice rings out between the trailers.

“Dee? What’s that short for?”

Now, your mother had taught you manners. How to be respectful to adults and authority though it rarely stuck. This man was neither in your eyes, however you can feel the backslide of nerves kicking in. Grown men asking questions never boded well.

“Candice, sir.”

His mouth pulls down in contemplation, slaps a hand on the metal railing and turns to go inside Wayne’s trailer.

There’s quiet before Wayne lets out a deep sigh. “Ed?”

Eddie moves quick then. Snatches up his book bag you dropped by his feet when you tried to leave. “I don’t fucking care.” He beelines for the front door and Wayne turns to you.

“Listen, I’ll call your mama when we get settled. Have her come get you.” You nod again.

“This’ll be fine.” He lies.

- - - -

Borderlines are clearly drawn through the small living room and Wayne is sadly stuck in the middle of it all. Him and Daniel have been talking for the tenses half hour you’ve ever witnessed. They make it seem like the conversation is easy but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Wayne sit so straight in his recliner. Eddie has posted himself against the countertop outside of the kitchen, just out of your reach where you’re seated at the tiny table. Any fidget you made had Eddie looking over his shoulder at you, only to snap his head back when his dad reclined on the sofa.

This is a whole side of Eddie you’ve never seen. Both him and Wayne hold the tension like a line between them, but where Wayne lets out a quiet laugh every now and then, Eddie just doubles down on his glare. Daniel makes it a point to ignore his kid for a bit.

It’s wild how much Eddie resembles his dad. The same nose sloping into full lips; same angled jaw and slightly too big ears. The same crossed arms and wide shoulders. They’re even the same height almost.

But that’s where that ends.

Eddie must have his mom’s eyes. Her long curls. Her smile. Because Daniel’s blue eyes are flinty and cold blue. His hair short and lighter brown. You haven’t seen him actually smile since sitting down even though he’s huffed a laugh or two.

“So did you just forget to call or what?” Eddie cuts across the conversation. You immediately look down at your feet to try and avoid everyone’s eyes. There’s so much sighing in this small space it’s a wonder there’s any air left to breathe.

“Edward-“

“It’s Eddie.”

His dad fully turns his body to face him. “Edward,” he enunciates it like Eddie is hard of hearing, “if you opened your ears you’d have heard me say I was trying to surprise you and Wayne.”

“We don’t like surprises.”

“Well I wouldn’t know that on account of you never visiting me.”

“Why would I do that when you just spend thirty minutes behind glass telling me everything wrong with me?”

The quiet is fucking unbearable so you set your glass of water on the table and shoot up, mumbling about needing the bathroom. That’s not allowed apparently.

“Candice?” You don’t like how Daniel says that. Like he’s testing the name out in his mouth. Eddie is on that immediately, steps in front of you like a shield and oh how you’d love to just crawl into the back of his ribs and burrow and get you both out of this excruciating visit.

“Nah, you don’t need to ask her anything.”

“Wayne, you sure they hang out all the time?” Daniel scoffs and stands, shoves his hands in the pockets of his faded blue jeans. Wayne looks questioning and Eddie takes a step back toward you.

“Well she seems to have some manners, would’ve thought that might’ve rubbed off on Eddie here.” He sets his shoulders wide when he looks down at Wayne and then over to Eddie playing knight to you. The confidence you get to speak is like a ray of sun peaking through a cloud momentarily. “Well those are questionable on a good day.” Eddie looks over his shoulder at you with cold eyes.

“At least you have them. Thought my brother would have done a better job than this. Father would’ve never put up with this.”

It’s Wayne’s turn to stand. “Danny, it’s been a few years since you’ve been in polite company so I’ll let that slide right now. Why don’t we let the kids go cool off while you and me have a little chat.” It’s not a question. Eddie realizes that as soon as the last word leaves Wayne’s mouth. He spins around and grabs your upper arm to pull you with him to his room. Before the door closes you can hear Daniel say something about an ‘ungrateful kid’ and the quiet anger in Wayne’s voice.

- - - -

The room is still with the door closed. Eddie stays leaned against it for a while, taking deep breaths to calm down. He can’t believe this is happening. Had no intention of you ever meeting his dad. Had no idea he was even close to getting out. It’d been such a good day too. He’d managed two B’s on two separate test and then you’d agreed to finally let him make you a character sheet for his new campaign. God this was wrong, he wanted to lash out at something but you’re here and he doesn’t want to let himself fall into that stupid rage. He can feel the tendrils of black creeping up the back of his head, invading his thoughts, when you let out an exasperated bark of laughter.

“Holy shit dude that was fucking tense!” You whisper yell at him. “I haven’t felt that weird since my dad came to visit last Christmas. Shit.” You draw out the middle of that ‘shit’ and turn around his room once. “I can like, go out the window if you want?”

No. Eddie doesn’t want that. If you leave he’s gonna stomp right back down that short hallway and punch his dad in the face. He’ll call the cops and tell Hopper his shitheel dad showed up and punched him first. Get him tossed back in jail for a few days, he doesn’t care.

No, Eddie wants to sit on his bed and show you how roll your stats. Wordlessly he walks across to the stack of binders and user guides next to his night stand and pulls out a notebook.

“Eddie?”

“C’mere.” He kicks his shoes off and throws his jacket down at the foot of the bed. Throws himself too against the pillows and tucks a leg under himself. When you don’t move to the bed he looks up from the notebook, through his hair and stares for a second.

“Dude, we don’t have to do that right now. I mean, we can do it la-“

“Please.” Quiet quiet quiet. Eddie’s never quiet and rarely does he use the ‘p’ word. Everything about today is sitting like a lead weight in your stomach. He’s pleading for something normal you realize and before you sit you turn his radio on, the low drone drowning out any utterance from the living room.

Twenty minutes later and you’ve decided on a purple Teifling fighter named Theodora. Eddie thinks it’s funny how into the horns you are and starts a little basic sketch in the corner of the page he’s writing your stats on. You’re asking him about the different dice when his dad’s voice cuts through the little dome of warmth you two are under.

“Well he’s my fucking kid Wayne, I know you like to forget that sometimes!” His voice hits Eddie hard and that’s all it takes for a sob to fall out of him. The tether he’d been hanging on by was thin apparently and he buckles.

“Hey, you okay?” Worry slides into your words.

“No.” His face is buried in his hands and the minor shake of his shoulders tells you the rest. Wordlessly you reach over and pull him to you, head resting on your shoulder and arms going around to squeeze hard. It’s a few minutes of Eddie sniffling into your shirt while you rub little circles on his back. He can’t seem to stop the slow leak of tears and he can feel the shame spreading red hot across his face. He’s only ever cried like this in front of his uncle and now, you. He’s never clung to you like a life raft, stuttering in breath and trying to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. Feels foolish but still doesn’t let go, needs to have some kind of grounding.

You’d been sitting next to him when you’d pulled him in and now the position feels like you’re being pretzeled in half. “Hey, scoot over.” You whisper and nudge him. He does, unwinds himself to lean back against the wall, props his arms on his raised knees. You spin and sidle up right next to him to fit your shoulder under his, arms wrapped around your knees. “I’m sorry your dad is such a dick.”

Eddie laughs wetly, “Yeah well, yours isn’t much better.”

“Fair. Maybe I’ll take you to Indy and we can just have a repeat of today?” You joke, nudging him. He laughs again and you watch him out of the corner of your eye. Tear tracks cut through his cheeks and you reach over without thinking to wipe them from one side with your fingertips. He just turns his head slightly, quirks an eyebrow and you just shrug.

“I’d tell you to not cry over him but he’s your dad.” Your dad may not be in prison but you get it. Spent enough time hating him to not get it. Still, seeing Eddie not loud and not smiling and not himself has changed your view of him a little. Nothing bad but there’s depth to him he was keeping hidden, another dimension of his personality that you hope he’ll let you into more if for nothing more than to help.

“You know if you want to talk about it…”

“I know.” Sniffles again and rocks his head back against the wall. “Thank you.”

- - - -

His dad leaves before you, evening settling when the roar of an engine pulls up outside. You and Eddie have been laying in bed side by side while he explains your new creation to you when the murmur of voices outside makes him get up to look through his blinds.

“Fucking asshole can’t seem to make new friends.” He flicks the blinds and settles back onto the bed with his back facing you. You want to reach out and place a hand between his shoulders to let him know it’s okay. Wayne cuts in though and it only annoys you a little when the door swings open and he just looks in. Worn and tired he tells Eddie his dad is gone.

“Yeah I saw him leave with Rob.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m starting dinner okay? Coast is clear now.” He nods at you and you know a cue. Eddie stops you before you leave his room to shove the notebook at you.

“Hang on to that, I’ll finish it up tomorrow with you.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him before giving him one last hug. He’s still stiff but he does hug you back, arms squeezing your ribs a little longer than normal. Making your way out of the trailer, past Wayne who gives your shoulder a squeeze, you feel that familiar giddiness again. Try as you might it keeps getting harder to squish down, and as you grip the notebook close you can feel it pushing up around your invisible hands trying to stuff it down.

- - - -

The storm door closes and Eddie wanders out of his room to stand in the kitchen and stare at the side of his uncles head. Wayne knows he’s there obviously, but he finishes browning the ground beef and layering it with the peas in the casserole dish before looking at him.

“Ed, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t know about that.”

Eddie nods, throat bobbing when he swallows. “You don’t want him here either.”

“No I don’t.”

“What did he actually want?”

Wayne gives him a bullshit answer, something about money and a job. He’d been asking about custody again, said he had a life set up for himself in Elwood and wanted Eddie to live with him again. That conversation went nowhere and ended with Daniel yelling about ‘his boy’.

Dinner is quiet and Eddie only eats the mashed potatoes off his shepards pie but at least it’s something.

“If you wanna skip tomorrow it’s fine, I’ll call and tell ‘em you’re sick or something.”

“No, I told her I’d be there tomorrow.”

Wayne nods and silently cleans up dinner. When Eddie hugs him from behind, sliding his skinny arms around Wayne’s shoulders he just pats his hand with his.

“Thank you Wayne.”

“No thanks needed kiddo.”

(Sacrifice for the read more)

[eddieschains]

Escape

Eddie Munson X Fem! Reader

A/N: massive thank you to @choke-me-eddie for your help on this one 🥰 and yes this is only part 1 don’t you guys worry

TW// 18+, alcohol and drug consumption, sexual conversations, asshole! Steve, mentions of weapons and violence, let me know if i missed anything !!

You and Eddie were always the outcasts, the freaks, the ones no one wanted to be remotely close to. That’s probably why you two got on so well. That and your similar taste in music, and well, drugs.

Your favorite pastime was playing music together and smoking weed. As if anyone could’ve guessed different.

You’d even begun helping him with his little ‘business’ of selling. It allowed you more time to spend with him, and the extra cash wasn’t too bad either.

One day, Hawkins High beloved King Steve wandered up to you in the hallway. Preparing to get hurled with insults, you pretend you don’t see him in your peripherals.

“Hey, Y/N.” He shouts as he saunters up to you.

You turn your head, locking eyes with him but not saying a word. He stands close to you, hanging his arm on top of your locker while looking down at you with that ever so charming Harrington look.

“I’m having a party tonight.” He blurts out.

“Okay? Don’t you have parties every Friday night?” You raise your eyebrows at him, not really caring about him or his stupid parties.

He chuckles. “Well yeah, but I want you and Munson come.”

Why on gods green earth would Steve Harrington be inviting you and Eddie to his dumb popularity show?

“Why? So you can take me to your bedroom and get another notch on your belt while your buddies dunk Eddie’s head in the toilet?” You slam your locker, nearly closing his fingers in it.

“While that sounds like fun, I was really just hoping you could help supply the party. If you know what I mean.” Oh. He wants the drugs.

“Well that makes more sense.” You mumble as your face softens. “As much as I hate you and your friends, we’ll be there. But I swear to god Harrington… if you guys try anything… I will not hesitate to put a knife up to your throat.”

“Kinky. See you at 7?” He asks. You nod your head as you walk away. “Hey! And if you want to see my bedroom I can definitely give you a tour!” He snickers. You put up your middle finger, not looking back as you make your way to the parking lot.

Making your way to the parking lot you ignore all the snide comments people throw at you on your way. You look across the street to see Eddie leaned up against the van smoking a cigarette.

“Hello darling.” He smiles, throwing the but on the ground and stomping on it. He pulls you in for a hug, never complete without a forehead kiss. “How was your day? Despicable as always?”

“You know it.” You open the sliding door, throwing your bag in the back as you hop in the passenger seat. Eddie starts the engine, backing out of the parking space so fast he just narrowly misses a passing student. He speed off, soon approaching the road back to his trailer.

You turn the blaring music down, forcing Eddie to look over at you. “So… you’re gonna hate me.”

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he speeds down the road to the trailer. “I could never hate you. But, what did you get yourself into this time?”

“Steve Harrington.” You groan, throwing your face into your hands.

The tires squeak as he slams the breaks in the driveway, putting the van in park. “Steve Harrington?” He turns to face you, wondering what on earth Steve could’ve done to you now. “Did you fuck him or something?”

“No! Ew, god no Eds.” You chuckle, hopping out of your seat and grabbing your bag from the back seat. Eddie locks up the van, ushering you inside.

“Good. I was worried I lost you there for a second.” You slap his arm, making your way into his bedroom.

You both bounce on to the mattress as Eddie reaches for a joint for you to share.

“Steve’s having a party tonight.” You say. Eddie mumbles something incoherent, probably something along the lines of who cares. “Anyways… he asked if you and I could come and help… supply.”

Eddie whips his head around towards you, eyes nearly popping out of his head. He really hopes you didn’t respond the way he thinks you did. “And you said… yes?”

You crack an apologetic smile, squinting your eyes. He jumps out of the bed, yelling your name. “Think about it Eds! This place is gonna be crawling with stuck up rich kids who don’t know anything about weed. We could give them the cheapest shit and sell it for twice as much and they wouldn’t know the difference.”

You see the wheels turning in his head. He paces back and forth, rubbing his chin in between his fingers for dramatic effect of course. “You’re diabolical. And I love you for it.” He rushes to the hallway, searching for his stash to see what he has.

He runs back into the bedroom, holding a small baggie in his hand. “We’re gonna have to call Rick.” You giggle, following him into the living to make the special call.

It was just past 7, when Steve told you the party was starting. Eddie parked down the road like Steve had requested, not wanting to bring more attention to the party.

You and Eddie both knew he just didn’t want people thinking he was friends with trailer trash, but to be honest you didn’t want people thinking you were friends with Steve Harrington either.

“You nervous?” Eddie asks, walking down the road towards the house.

You shake your head. “No. You?” He cracks a small smile, not wanting to say how he really feels. “I brought my knife… just so you know.” You chuckle.

“Always prepared, aren’t you?” Eddie laughs. You smirk as you make your way to the porch.

You can hear people outside laughing and screaming as the music blares throughout the house. You giggle to yourself as you go to raise a fist to knock on the door. Who knocks on the door for a party?

You walk inside, Eddie trailing behind you, as you both are immediately met with glares and indistinct whispers. Eddie asks where Steve is, and they point you to the kitchen.

Their faces look a bit scared, probably thinking you two were here to start a fight.

“Go! Go! Go! Go!” You walk into the kitchen to see a crowd of people chanting and whooping as the beloved King Steve takes his place on the throne of a keg.

You stand in the doorway, watching as you wait for him to finish. He stands back up, high fiving the people around him before landing on you and Eddie.

“Ah! You made it.” A smile appears on his face. “You can set up outside or whatever you need to do. I’ll let people know where to find you.” You start to make your way towards the pool before Steve calls for you again. “Oh, Y/N. My room is on the second floor… first door the right. You know, in case you changed your mind.” You roll your eyes as Steve and his friends burst into laughter.

About an hour goes by of you and Eddie sitting by the pool smoking joint after joint and conversing about everyone at the party. A few people swept in to buy from you guys, but definitely not as many as you had hoped. You sat around talk and laughing about random shit, as if you were just hanging out at the trailer, while someone inside is singing Madonna karaoke in the background.

“This music is shit.” Eddie laughs, coughing as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “I should get up there and do Metallica or something.” He chuckles.

You whip your head to face him, the wheels turning in your head.

“Y/N… no. Fuck, no.” He laughs, putting the but of his joint out.

“C’mon Eds, it’ll be funny. I’ll get up there with you.” You plead, looking for some kind of entertainment while you’re stuck here. He dramatically crosses his legs, putting his hand up to chin to ponder your idea.

“Okay, deal.” He stands up to look inside the house, seeing the person singing is almost done with their song. “You distract Harrington and i’ll queue the song up.” You click your tongue and point a finger gun at him as you both make your way inside.

You catch Steve in the kitchen, thankfully alone, as he’s filling up his cup. You turn to see Eddie making a b-line to the karaoke machine.

“Hey Steve.” You say, a flirty tone rushing through your voice. You walk up to him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey… did you change your mind?” He responds, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Actually, yes.” Steve raises an eyebrow, as you see the wheels turning in his brain. “You know… I hear all these stories. How great you are in bed, and I think I should experience it before we graduate.”

“Well, stories are true.” He winks, taking a sip of his drink. He hands you a shot as you stand there for a second, trying to think of your next move until you hear the beginning notes of Eddie’s Metallica song playing. “Oh shit, sorry Harrington but this is my jam.” You giggle, downing the shot as you run into the living room.

You see people’s heads start to turn as the loud sounds of guitar and drums fill the room. You stand in front of Eddie as he starts singing along.

Feel no pain, but my life ain’t easy

I know i’m my best friend

You start bobbing your head as he begins to draw a crowd. People are booing and yelling to turn it off, which only makes you laugh. You run up and join him as the chorus starts.

One with my mind, they just can’t see

No need to hear things that they say

Life is for my own to live my own way

“Who let the freaks up there?” You hear someone yell across the room. It doesn’t take long until people are throwing empty plastic cups and yelling for you guys to leave.

You look at Steve to see if he’s going to do or say anything, but he honestly seems to be enjoying the show by the smirk on his face.

You and Eddie finish the song, as people are still screaming at you guys to go away. Of course Eddie wouldn’t be able to leave before leaving a cheeky comment for Steve. “Shit party, Harrington. Had a better time in your moms panties last night.” You gasp as he drops the mic on the floor.

“The fuck did you just say Munson?” Steve yells from across the room. He sets his drink down on the table before gathering his friends and running after you two.

“Run.” Eddie chuckles, grabbing you by the arm and racing out of the house.

“Get back here, freaks!” Tommy shouts as you and Eddie race down the street. You look behind you to see Steve and Tommy stood in the driveway, watching as you two run away.

“Holy shit.” Eddie laughs as you make it to the van. You’re pressing yourself against the hood as you catch your breath. “You sang pretty fucking good.”

“Yeah?” You ask, as Eddie nods. He walks closer to you, his face close enough that you feel his breath caressing your nose.

“Looked good doing it too.” A nervous giggle escapes your mouth. Before you have a chance to respond, his hands are cupping your cheeks as he attaches his lips to yours.

The shock of your best friend kissing you stills your movements for a second, until you fall into him. His lips are soft, plump, the perfect fit for your own. You reach your hand up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you reciprocate the movements his lips are making with yours.

He pulls back, still holding your cheeks in his hands as he examines your face. “Eddie…” You whisper. He raises his eyebrows, mumbling a questionable hmm. “Take me home.”

He pulls back, still holding your cheeks in his hands as he examines your face. “Eddie…” You whisper. He raises his eyebrows, mumbling a questionable hmm. “Take me home.”

[trashmouth-richie]

UNNIEEEEE I'M SO PROUD OF YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERSSS, I LOVE YA NANCY! So for my two words, I gotta stick with the memes

Eddie, Roof and Sexy

Eddie x best friend! female! Reader

w.c: 1.6k

Warnings: NO MINORS gtfo you little shits, go on GIT! smut, outdoor sex

The heat of the hail damaged tin roof stung at your bare shoulder as you rolled over from the blanket. Eddie’s body heavy against yours as his large hands wrapped around the small of your back, coaxing the sweat stuck tank top up your body, exposing your chest.

The late summer winds, muggy and dense, clung through the air as the lightening bugs flitted past your heads. The cicadas already long finished with their mating song for the night—mosquitos out for midnight snacking hours.

You were certain the neighbors could see, thirty pack of Miller High Life or not, and nascar highlights blaring on their outdoor tv, they could still see your silhouettes colliding together on the roof of the Munson trailer.

It started out innocent, as all things with Eddie did. “Do you trust me?” The charming little bastard had a smile that could kill, demon grin on a cherub face, the perfect combination. Everytime Eddie had started with those words it never ended well. His idea last summer of skinny dipping in Lover’s Lake on the 4th of July ended with you both having the embarrassing ride home in Hopper’s police vehicle as he hounded you on indecent exposure charges. Or when you were pre teens and Eddie promised he could drive but ended up backing Wayne’s truck into the line of the trailer park mailboxes, watching them tumble over like dominos. Wayne was pissed and you forfeited your piggy bank over to help Eddie pay for the damages. Or a few months ago when you had graduated and after getting his diploma, Eddie decided to show the crowd full of tearful parents and anxious grads to be, the white of his ass after flipping Principal Higgins the bird.

He was reckless and insubordinate. A royal grade A pain in the ass. But he was your best friend and no matter how ridiculous his shenanigans were you never said no. So tonight when he asked you to scale the teetering ladder he stole from the Pickley’s shed to climb atop the roof to eat spaghetti-o’s and listen to Metallica, you had no idea it would spark the sexual tension fireworks that had been building for years.

The weed didn’t help, you always felt a little more relaxed and a tiny bit horny when you smoked. And Eddie? He was always horny, always handsy but not in a perverted way, just a mouthy fucker. So it came as no surprise when you were leaned back into arms, joint snug against your lips, Eddie plucking it out and tilting your chin up to him, lips ghosting over yours, as he whispered, “do you trust me?”

A smirk dances across your face as you snuggle into the crook of his arm reaching a hand up to his face and pulling him down gently to you. His lips brush yours as the sweetest kiss falls between you both. He smelled like weed and the musk of his shitty knock off cologne. He tasted like the cheap tomato sauce in spaghetti o’s and the slight hint of spearmint gum. Your body is suddenly hungry for him, needing him deep inside you. He lays you down, shoulders skidding against the heat of the roof. The denim of your cutoff shorts rubbing against his jeans, creating a friction that made your core throb. Eddie licked into your mouth, soft moans slipping out as his hands shakily worked your tank top further and further up your chest.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he kissed along the slant of your neck, hands gripped tight on your tits as he finger rolled your nipples. You arch your back into him, shoving his mouth against your body, starving for the wet pool of his tongue to lap against your skin. Thank God the trailer park lights went out years ago. And thank God the City of Hawkins never found the time or money to replace it.

Eddie kisses his way down your body, tongue flicking against the sweat of your skin, tugging slightly at the button on your shorts as he slides them off your hips, throwing them, like a jackass, off the roof and into the tall grass behind the trailer. “Oops,” his face looks sheepish as he realizes what he did. You roll your eyes and push his head into your panties, relishing in the jut of his nose against your sensitive bud. Moaning against the heel of Eddie’s hand as he finger hooks your panties and yanks them down slowly, he lets out a gasp as your soaked panties cling to your pussy. “You’re so sexy… should have done this sooner.” He murmurs, eyes locked on yours as he dives into your folds; lapping, sucking, and spitting on your drenched cunt. His thick fingers are tugging at the plush of your hips, gripping your thighs out wider and wider as his tongue strokes around your clit. Your high comes embarrassingly quick, your fingernails scratching at his skull pulling his hair like an old lady pulling weeds in a garden. The guttural moans you are eliciting are louder than life, Eddie purrs into your cunt sopping up your juices as he sucks on your clit.

When you can’t handle it anymore you nudge him off of you, squeezing your thighs together to let the pressure build up. Eddie sits on his heels, coaxing you up and on his lap, your soaked pussy drenching his jeans as his hard cock jumps against the zipper. You kiss him deeply, lips sticky with your arousal as you nip at his earlobes. The neck of his shirt in your grip as you yank it over his head. His curls falling against his fading sunburnt shoulders. He holds you close against him, bodies slick with sweat as he paints the inside of your mouth with his tongue.

Many things go unnoticed when you’re just friends. Like the way his muscles in his broad shoulders move as his hands caress your back. The plumpness of his pillowy lips, delicately kissing your neck as you pull away for a quick breath. The softness of his hair as you twirl it into your fingers, the honeyed muddy silk bouncing back into place as you release it.

He shimmies his jeans past his knees as your pussy slots against his cock, rocking your hips against him. “I need you,” you moan into his ear. He lifts his hips and lays you down again, this time making sure to get you on the blanket. He places an arm on your side as he slips his boxers off. Your right leg curls around his hip, his hand running down the length of your leg grabbing onto the flesh of your hip. His eyes are colossal and full of lust, as he stares into you. Before he can ask, you answer for him, “I trust you.”

Eddie’s ruddy tip rubs between the slick of your folds, both of you moaning into each other's mouths at the ecstasy inducing sensation. He slides his thick cock into you, slowly at first kissing you sweetly as your pussy engulfs him inch by inch. He’s bigger than anyone you’d been with. Thicker than you could even imagine. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the stretch is almost too much, your fingers digging into Eddie’s taut back as he pushes into you, his eyes searching for face for the okay to keep going. You nod an approval as he slips deeper into your velvet folds. You pant out for him as he sinks to the hilt. Moaning his name as he pumps slowly into you, Eddie whispers into your ear, “you’re so perfect baby, fuck tight little pussy t-mmm taking me so good.”

You're a whimpering mess beneath him as he hikes your thigh higher up his waist. He reached between you and rubs around your clit. The lewd noises of him slamming against your wet pussy echo across the trailer park. The moon shines against the sheen of sweat trickling down his body as he brings your leg up against his shoulder, the new angle makes his dick thrust into your spongey g spot. Explicits leave your tongue as your orgasm creeps across your body, you’re almost there. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

He slams into you harder, his sack slapping heavy against your ass. His fingers dig into your plushy thighs as ropes of his hot cum fill you up, you’re not far behind him as your high peaks. Sending a rippling of pleasure from your hair follicles to the tips of your toes. Eddie continues to fuck into you slowly as he softens, hissing as your combined cum leaks from your throbbing pussy. Eddie lays his full weight on you, too high and too weak to move as your ragged breaths teeter down to normal. Not even in your wildest dreams did you imagine sex with Eddie could be so passionate. “Stay with me,” he whispers into your ear, kissing it lightly as he roles off of you and onto his back. His hair cascading wildly around him.

“‘course,” you answer. You and Eddie spend the night on the roof, talking and giggling as you smoke more weed and fuck into the earlier morning hours, orgasm timed perfectly with the sunrise. Waking to the familiar hacking cough of Wayne Munson as he steps outside for his morning cigarette. “Eddie,” you hiss.

“Hmm?” He groans as he wipes drool from his chin, “what’s wrong?”

“Wayne was home the whole time!?” you whisper yell, throwing your hand over your face in embarrassment.

“Fuck, I didn’t tell you that?”

[rainylana]

Random Eddie Munson Headcanons

Eddie Munson x reader

omg this was so fun to make lmao. headcanons are my favorite thing ever. no warnings!

taglist!

my requests are open!

@ariesl0ves3ddiemuns0n @eddiemunnson @eddiemania @averysblog @softyutae @ches-86 @ahzysauce @your-starless-eyes-remain @cosmic-lavender @flowers-and-tsukki @underthebatcape @mic429 @heeyitsg @catherinnn @fentyreligion @justaproudslytherpuff @supercalifragilisticprincess @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @antigoneidk @actuallybarb @kneelforloki @lexthemess21 @chaotic--agraphia @noturmom15 @no0neknowsm3 @imdoingbetternow @rovckwells @getbillzoned @kaqua @delilahtaylorsverson @phantomxoxo @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @imangy @slytherinintj13 @tessiemessie @ohlovelyhollow @avobabe87 @genuine-possum

• has insomnia. like fr does not sleep. he feels bad about keeping you up, but he depends on you a lot of the time to get him to sleep. he’ll be up at all hours writing for new campaigns, stringing new chords for a song, or he’ll jump on the bed to get you to wake up and keep him entertained until he gets tired. once he cleaned the entire trailer from top to bottom, something he does not ever do, while you tossed and turned from the noise.

• has a dr pepper addiction. his room is absolutely FULL of empty cans. wayne gets on to him because he leaves them everywhere. the floor, spilling out of the trashcan and stuffed with cigarette butts. he drinks like eight to ten cans a day, and it’s the first thing he has to have when he wakes up, otherwise he’ll be in a bitchy mood.

• HATES SPIDERS. he screams like a little girl when he seems them, and absolutely refuses to take his eye of them until you squash it for him, yes he makes you do it.

• is actually very good at english when he applies himself.

• has TERRIBLE allergies and it makes him miserable to be around. you put up with it, but his constant sneezing does get annoying. he’s got that dad sneeze LMAO, super loud and it lowkey scares you when he does.

• is totally into the domestic shit! he gets so giddy and excited when you cook for him. he likes to stand over and watch you, and you have to constantly slap his hand away from sampling everything. on hellfire nights he brings cookies and brownies that you baked for them:)

• and i do not care what anyone says, mans DOES NOT smell like roses LMFAO. he smells like cigarettes and beer, maybe a hint of some cheap cologne that he stole to wear on date night. he uses knock off shampoo when he washes his hair, but secretly likes to use yours when you sleep over. it’s not much of a secret, though, considering you can smell it on him.

• he legit smokes constantly. doesn’t matter where he goes, he’s got a cig hanging from his lips. and even when you peel your eyes open in the mornings, you know he’s awake when the burn of smoke hits your nose. you didn’t care much for it, early on in the relationship, but you became comforted by the habit.

• loves watching scary movies with you. he’ll drape an arm over your shoulder why you lay on his chest, hysterically laughing at how hard you both jump at a scary scene.

• when you first started dating, he cleared out a drawer for you to keep your stuff.

• when he sees you sleeping in his band t-shirts, bro is hard as rocks💀

• gets SO paranoid around you when he finds out you’re on your period, because he’s terrified of saying something to piss you off lmao.

• is absolutely FASCINATED with makeup and skincare. he religiously watches you do it and he’s always asking what a certain product does and if he can try it.

• you watch saturday morning cartoons together in your pajamas, which for him, is just sweatpants and his bare chest.

• he’s an extremely good listener, even if he doesn’t understand what you talk about half the time. he’ll always give a nod or a little hum as you rant, smiling when it’s something you’re really passionate about.

• he’s got undiagnosed anxiety and paranoia, which you figured explained the insomnia. he’s always biting his nails and bouncing his knee. on days when you can tell he’s anxious, you make sure to hug him extra tighter. you learned quickly not comment on it, because he always denied it or brushed it off. it embarrassed him

• dustin is always the third wheel, but you don’t mind. you know how close him and eddie are. sometime he’ll tag along for a movie or come over when you make dinner. he’s very polite and always offers to do the dishes for you.

• he taught you how to play poker, which eventually turned into strip poker.

• he loves showing you off, and gets so excited when you come with him to hellfire night. you don’t play, because it confuses you, but you like watching him get so into it. you always pull up a chair beside him, but he never fails to yank you into his lap and make you sit there on the throne with him. he even got a plastic crown for you to wear so you’d feel included<3

• on father’s day, you convinced him that he should do something nice for wayne, even if it wasn’t much. you told him it was the thought that counted. he felt a little weird about it, awkward, but he knew you were right, so he had you help him with a present.

• so in turn, he picked your mother flowers on mother’s day.

• is always buying scratch off lottery cards and gets SO MAD when he doesn’t win anything LMAO.

• does not eat vegetables at all. hates them. he’s like a mf five year old when it comes to food and he’s so picky. and really, it’s just because he’s too stubborn to try them, but when you cook something special for him, he’ll eat it, and he does like it.

• i seen a tiktok once that said his favorite fruit would definitely be bananas and i think so too. you have to be careful when you eat them though because you’ll catch him staring at you with a sex crazed look in his eye.

“really eddie? i’m eating!”

“i’m sorry. you’re just so sexy when you do it like that.”

• i feel like you guys would have a lot of pregnancy scares.

[cyberwears]

Poly! Steve harrington and Eddie Munson X Male! reader

Prompt: "Hi :) would you possibly write a male reader with poly! steve and eddie? Either as a fic or head cannons, whichever you like!" (REQUEST)

Pairing:Steve harrington X Eddie Munson X Male!reader

warnings: mentions of weed, mentions of bullying and fights,

I was so excited for a request like this and now I have it! I hope to do you justice. this is not proof read. REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Eddie

You try and get eddie to sit still long enough to braid his hair (it doesn't work)

Eddie wont let any people touch his hair other than wayne before you came along

You and eddie were together before steve entered the mix

You and eddie got the reputation of “fruit freaks”

When you guys got into fights or jumped eddie tried to defend you but only got beat up more for “resisting the punishment”

You play in hell fire sometimes and are really close with gareth and jeff

You always hangout at band practice and go to their shows at the Hideout

After you graduated and Eddie had to repeat his senior year you tutored him

Stargazing out by Lovers Lake

BED HEAD omg

Eddie prefers soda over coffee or tea in the mornings to wake up with

When he stretches he kicks his leg and does the little spasms when he gets up.

He claims “It shakes the sleep off my weary bones”

He learns how to make paper rings for you

He put on his rings on a chain for you after seeing you stare at it while cuddling

SPEAKING OF CUDDLING

This man is a little spoon all the way (unless you had a bad day then you kinda just lay on top of him

Obviously this man smokes weed so if you’re allergic to it he goes outside or on the roof of the trailer

If not then he asks if you wanna smoke with him

Clingy. Always likes some skin contact. (hands, ankles if hands are not available.)

OMG he loves kissing you EVERYWHERE

PET NAMES AND COMPLEMENTS (prince charming, my king, Lovebug, handsome. Even refers to you as a greek god some days)

Definitely has a polaroid of you in his van AND wallet “that way you’re always with me forever”

You stole his sweater once and he almost tackled you in kisses saying “you look amazing in my clothes”

He spends alot of time reading to you after school/work

Steve

Started off platonic (sharing a mutual friend of Nancy)

No longer friends with Nancy and defend him till you were blue in the face

Graduating same class as him

After hearing Nancy dumped him for Jonathon you quickly came to his aid and took him on a long drive to comfort him

Held him while he was crying

Before he realized you and eddie were together he kissed you in a spur of the moment decision

He was horrified to learn that you were in a relationship and felt bad after the kiss (you said it was ok and it was never mentioned again)

He coming over and asking you advice on how he was feeling and “how to tell that you like men”

You happy helped him if it helped him move on from Nancy

Tended to his wounds after Starcourt with a very frantic “WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED”

You introduced him to Eddie and could see Steve falling very fast for him

You worried you would lose Eddie to him because they got really close really fast

“I would never take him from you. I see how he looks at you. His eyes are on you 1000%”

Renting movies and watching them at his house

Swimming in his pool late at night

Trying (and failing) to make you small gifts and bracelets

Getting butthurt when you agreed with the group of kids he ended up babysitting all the time

Steve is a coffee man all the way

messing up steves hair just because he spends so much time on it

Steve and Eddie:

Cuddling together (you all rotate who is middle, the others on the outside hold hands basically caging the one in center in.)

If you have long hair steve and eddie love styling it (short hair, playing with it)

Long night drives and arguments over whose music taste is better (steve and eddie. You never cared to argue the point that both genres have their respective strengths and weaknesses

Off hand comments about how steve uses to much hair product and how eddie doesn’t use any (getting an offend look from both)

If in arguments or disagreement you kiss one of them to shut them up

Taking steve to see Corroded Coffin play

They both suck at taking care of themselves period. You act more like a parent than a partner sometimes (“did you eat breakfast?” “…” “here eat this”)

You wouldn't trade it for the world though

You both scream for eddie when he graduates

You and Steve always carry hair ties for Eddie since he “always loses them”.

You tease both of them about their respective highschool callings and nicknames 

Blurb Below

You wake up and look towards the clock on your bedside table, 6:53 AM. Letting out a whine and a soft remark on how tired you were, you move your gaze from your clock. Becoming acutely aware of the weight on either side of your body and the soft sensation of warmth to either side of you a soft grin overtakes your features. As you look to your left and see a wild mess of black curly hair and relaxed features, hearing the soft snoring of Eddie Munson, your boyfriend of 3 years. Giggling you sink further into the bed to the best of your ability and shift to your right to see short blonde hair. sticking up in spots and the not so soft snoring of Steve Harrington, Eddie’s and your other boyfriend of 1 year.

You lay as still as possible and gently brush the hair out of Eddie's face as the sun starts rising over Hawkins, Indiana. The curtains moved with the sway of the breeze from your open window, carrying the warm summer air into the room. You look between your boys and admire as the ever waking sunlight cradles their faces gently, as one would hold a newborn kitten or flower from a garden. Looking back down you see the boys pinky fingers interlocked on the blanket about where the soft plush blanket meets your hip bones

After laying in the bed for about an hour or so (you take in every crevice on Steve and Eddie’s faces the whole time) you feel a shift on the right side and an arm wraps around your waist as Steve's bare arm tightens and pulls you closer. Sighing you scoot to face him as his breathing changes and his face becomes a tad bit less relaxed. You kiss his forehead as he cracks his eyes open. You watch as he blinks the sun and sleep from his eyes and a wide dopey grin slides over his features as he moves his head just enough to place his soft lips on yours. Taking note to disregard the morning breath you kiss him back just as gently as he did you seconds ago.

“Good morning bug” he croaks out the dumb nickname he picked up form Eddie and sits up against the headboard. Causally, you reach up and smooth out the wild spots in his hair, him gently and playfully slapping your hand away while claiming that he’s a big boy and can handle himself. “Good morning to you too, my love.” you said, voice riddled with sleep and a bit deeper for lack of use. He grins a bit wider and looks over you again. “Y’know you are sexy with that morning voice” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes and went to tease him before hearing a laugh from your left and feeling a shift in the bed. “I have not even been awake for 5 minutes and you two are already ready to jump each other's bones. Good morning to me, I guess” Eddies fake grumpy voice cuts through the teasing banter. you flip to face him and place a kiss on his forehead as your face starts to burn from embarrassment. you feel Steve shift and lean over, kissing Eddie and pushing the hair from his face. “Jesus steve, morning breath” Eddie said as he sits up and makes a fake disgusted face. you laugh and steve looks at the both of you with face offense.

“Well if my breath offends you both so much, you can make your own breakfast” He teases and stands up, pulling his shorts that were disregarded the night prior. You snatch his arm and roughly pull him into your lap and kiss him again. “He was kidding, my love. Give us 15 and we’ll be out there to join you. Maybe we can actually help this time” you said as you sent him your best pleading look. He looks between you and Eddie then snorts “yeah right, after you two almost burnt the house down I don’t think so. I will start breakfast. We’re having pancakes and eggs. I love you two but I don’t think I can handle having to call the emergency line at… 8am” he explains as he glances at the clock. Standing up again he heads out of the room, your gaze follows him until he is out of sight.

You lean back against the bed and turn your head to Eddie who is just staring off into space. As you look at him you lean over and move his hair out of the way and gently bite his shoulder. “Fuck! Why did you do that? I know you love leaving your mark on the world but last time I checked my name isn’t ‘The World’ “ He said as he let out a little yelp in surprise. “I don’t know. Just felt like it. You were spacing out again.” “and you bit me?!” he says in fake anger. “What else was I supposed to do?” you said and rolled your eyes as you moved to go stand.

You make your way to the kitchen and watch as Steve bobs his head and sings to whatever song is on the radio placed on the kitchen counter. While he is dancing like a maniac you see him plating up some food then turning back to the stove. You let out a silent chuckle then move towards him as quietly as you can and snake your arms around his bare waist. the coarse hair from his stomach brushing against the soft skin of your arms and you let out a content hum. “How was your morning thus far, pop star?” You tease as he spins around and pulls you against him.

“I don’t know, poke me or something like a normal person?” He questions as he stands, throwing the disregarded Metallica shirt on. You opt for a plain back tank top and shorts, tying back your hair back the best you can, vowing to brush it later (if you have short hair you run a hand through it to fix the bed head). He pouts then looks over your form. Looking back from your dresser as you slip on your shorts you can see Eddie scheming. Quickly rushing over you kiss him and run your hands down the sides of his arms and to grip his waist in effort to put a pep in his step. “Hey let's go. Steve is probably feeling left out.” you whisper against his lips and pull away. He let's out a whine from lack of contact then follows.

“Pretty good. Better now that you and Eddie are up and moving” He says as Eddie stumbles through the doorway of your shared apartment, making his way to the fridge and grabbing a Coca-cola from it before plopping down at the counter. “Yeah? I am glad” you start and lean up to his ear. “I saw your performance. Amazing might I add.” you whisper as you place a kiss on his collar bone and move away from him, towards the coffee pot after grabbing the dark blue and bright yellow coffee mug. After filling up the mug and sitting down you bask in the morning glow filling the room and wait as Steve finishes breakfast.

The three of you eat, throwing around playful remarks and generally comfortable conversation. You smile and couldn’t and would feel more at peace with the two men you love the most within arms reach of you.

taglist: @hellfirebee @mitzirre

[vic394]

Days like this --- Steddie

It’s a bit of a surprise for Eddie when Steve shows up at his trailer’s doorstep at 1am, clutching Eddie’s denim vest in his hands.

It’s a bit of a bigger surprise for Steve when, several hours later, he walks out of the trailer wearing that same vest on top of a Metallica t-shirt, the chill morning air drawing goosebumps on his arms.

Not that he’s complaining, he thinks as he enters his car, passing one hand through his completely disheveled hair and blushing slightly at the sight of his reddened lips in the rearview mirror.

There’s a reason he and Nancy eventually drifted apart after the first few weeks from the battle with Vecna. Steve just was not sure exactly what the reason was, at the time. Or, more accurately, who. And he cuts himself some slack for needing time to figure himself out. After all, developing a crush on another guy is kind of a first to him.

He turns on the car engine and can’t help a little annoyed groan when he realizes he barely has any spare time to make himself presentable before he has to pick up Robin for school.

Oh, she’s gonna love this.

Indeed, Robin does. While Steve’s overall messy appearance could have been justified by a quick encounter with any girl, his outfit gives him away before Robin has even jumped into the passenger seat.

---

It goes on for weeks that bleed into months. Meeting up at the trailer, sneaking through Steve’s empty house, stolen caresses by the poolside, kissing each other's moans quiet so Wayne won’t be able to hear them in the middle of the night.

Steve cannot get enough of it. He sees Eddie everywhere. He’s on the shelves of Family Video when Steve restocks the horror section, in all those spooky movies they’ve never watched because they were too busy tearing each other’s clothes off. He’s in the boys’ Hellfire Club shirt, the one Steve likes to sleep in when he stays the night at Eddie’s, even though he couldn’t yet be convinced to participate in the D&D sessions.

A passer-by is having a smoke on the other side of the road and all Steve can bring himself to think about is the lingering smell on Eddie’s skin of a cigarette after sex. A shiver runs down his spine as Steve starts walking faster, his head lowered to hide the flush on his cheeks that seems to be ever present, these days.

He is such a goner.

It’s the way Eddie’s features light up when he talks about his interests, with Steve trying to make sense of the obscure fantasy references, and he does put in the work, eventually understands what Mordor is. Eddie smiles his sweetest smile and his hands can’t stop moving, drawing maps in the air, acting out scenes and characters for Steve - who will barely follow despite his best efforts, Eddie being all over the place with his narrations. Eddie kisses him stupid and goes on about how cute Harrington is for even trying to keep up.

 It's the genuine laughter that escapes Eddie when Steve gets all worked up because his music taste has never been so continuously and consistently criticized before and he’s all protective of Toto and Cindy Lauper and why won’t Eddie let him listen to anything lighter than Black Sabbath- that’s usually the part when Eddie starts getting defensive too because how dare Steve complain about Black Sabbath and they end up having the most pointless arguments, until suddenly Eddie is in Steve’s arms and looking at him in a way that makes Steve’s heart melt. And yeah, if having this means he’ll have to give up on his pop tunes, Steve is more than happy to make the sacrifice.

It’s the soft forehead kisses when Eddie bids him goodnight, wrapping himself around Steve and tickling his cheeks with long, unruly hair. Steve kisses Eddie’s bare chest and feels him smile in the moonlit bedroom. He turns around and lets Eddie spoon him, hands intertwined as chest presses against back, their bodies glued together as Steve wishes he could freeze this moment and live in it forever.

Away from every real-life problem the dawn will bring.

It’s almost comical how the smallest smile on Eddie’s lips has Steve’s heart flutter like he’s back to being 17 and hopelessly in love for the first time all over again.

The kind of puppy love that makes him want to do all the things Eddie would probably give him a lot of crap about; buy flowers and chocolates and rip off every movie cliché as he screams from the rooftops that his heart belongs to metalhead Eddie Munson.

It kills Steve to know that he can’t do that, can’t hold Eddie’s hand or kiss him in public or brag about how he has the single best boyfriend in the world. Because he’s seen how some small-town people can be a worse threat than anything the Upside Down has deployed against them.

So, he makes the best of what he has. Because after all, how could he care about what the rest of the world thinks when the only thing Steve needs is for Eddie to keep whispering his name like a prayer when they’re together.

And that’s why it happens over Chinese takeout instead of a table at Enzo’s, in front of a rented movie instead of the new cinema release, when Steve stops playing with Eddie’s hair and finally says it.

“I love you”

And Eddie turns towards him just enough for Steve to see his devilish smirk before he pulls him in for a kiss that leaves both of them breathless and still longing for more.

“I know ya do, big boy.”

---

A/N: because Eddie would 110% pull a Han Solo move on Steve.

I had so much fun writing this, it feels amazing to be writing again and explore a new fandom. I hope you enjoy!

Title inspired by this.