#but eddie has so much more work to do and more important shit than falling in love

[passiveagressivepoet]

buddie season eight this buddie season eight that

eDDIE DOING LONG TERM INTENSIVE THERAPY SEASON EIGHT WHEN

[luvrxbunny]

he offers to take his gf’s virginity but cums too fast because he underestimated how good she’d feel

random guys i love under 🤭

this wasnt supposed to be so long but I'm ovulating so

includes: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Joel Miller, Bucky Barnes, and Miguel O'Hara

eddie munson - 0.2k

he’d be super cocky abt it. he’d tell you about how good he’ll make you feel, how you’re gonna be crying on his cock, that he’s gonna stretch you so wide that you’ll be able to feel it for weeks after. He has it all planned out in his head too, how slowly he’ll work himself in, how he’ll fuck you for hours and you’d love it.

but he’s got half his dick in you and he’s already throbbing.

your eyes are on his but they keep unfocusing and crossing as he works his way in. he has to turn away from you to stop himself from cumming as you whine about how big he is. he’s frozen inside you for a while, you’re gripping his arms, begging him to keep pushing into you and he had to cover your mouth to shut you up as his dick starts to twitch inside you.

he pushes himself in fully and immediately cums at your shouting moan from under his hand. he’s burying his face in your neck and grunting into your neck angrily as his hips uncontrollably twitch into your unbelievably warm pussy.

afterward, he’s angry at himself and a little distant from you cus he’s embarrassed asf but you comfort the shit out of him and guarantee that you loved it

steve harrington - 0.2k

he's almost as nervous as you are, he hasn’t had sex in a little while because he’s been with you, and he’s never had sex with someone he loves so he doesn’t know if it’s different.

he tries to eat you out, getting a few licks in before you pull him back up and tell him you already stretched yourself. he feels his cock twitch in his pants at the words, at the mental image and he needs you. it takes a while for him to fully enter you because he’s fucking huge.

you keep whining at him every other second, pressing your hand to his pelvis to stop him from sliding in because it hurts too much. he feels bad, ofc he does… but you’re so tight he can barely breathe. his eyes are shut as tight as possible and his hands are crushing your hip bones until you're whimpering at him for more.

you're finally able to take all of him and he’s cumming. he’s looking right at you, a hand in his hair and a look of complete shock on his face as his orgasm ripples through him, prolonged by your frantic grinding and his erratic thrusts.

he's thoroughly embarrassed afterward and tries to explain to you that it’s cus he’s “never been with anyone who felt as good as you”, that in the sea of women he's been with he's “never felt anyone as warm, wet, or soft as you.” he fingers you as an apology, letting you cum in his lap as many times as you'd like.

marc spector - 0.2k

he actually doesn’t really want to. he thinks it’s too important for you to give it to him, he doesn’t deserve it and all his martyrdom but you’re able to convince him to do it for you.

he eats you out first, to open you up a bit and to calm his nerves before actually getting to it.

you’re on top so you can control the pace a bit more, his hands on your hips in case your legs give out. the position is already a little too arousing for him, then with the added thought that you trust him enough to give him your virginity is messing with his head.

he’s louder than usual from the start, eyes already fluttering shut when all you’ve taken is his tip. his hands are shaking where they rest on your hips and repeated curses fall from his mouth. he starts rambling filthy words and praises by the time you’re halfway down and by the hilt, he’s begging you to let him fuck into you before he cums.

he’s frantic with his thrusts after you nod at him but he only gets maybe three full thrusts in before he’s stuttering and apologizing as he empties his balls into you.

he’s angry at himself and distant afterward, feeling like he’s ruined your first time and being dramatic asf. talking about maybe he’s just not good enough for you and yadayada but you convince him otherwise ofc.

steven grant - 0.2k

he’s flustered and so honored. he plans a whole thing, a whole date beforehand, and gets your room all prettied up for when he takes you to bed. it’s super romantic, he's poured his heart into the whole ordeal.

he’s super soft w you, very slow. he fingers you first which is probably where he went wrong, he was throbbing in his pants the whole time. your moans and begs for him to just ‘put it in already’ have his head spinning.

you end up more desperate than he is and you take him much much faster than he had anticipated.

he basically slides right in. his eyes cross once his hips press into yours and you can hear him muttering random things; begs with himself not to cum, random facts that he’s rattling off in an attempt to distract himself but it doesn’t work.

you squeeze down on him at the whole scene, his hot breath on your ears and he whimpers your name pathetically as he fills you to the brim, more cum than he’s ever produced, spilling out of you and soaking the sheets.

he apologizes profusely for about an hour and promises that you guys will re-do everything. he fingers you again afterward, wanting to make you cum. he’s whispering apologies and praises in your ear the whole time.

joel miller - 0.3k

he doesn’t want to, thinks he’s corrupting you and he doesn’t deserve it blah blah. but once you convince him he couldn’t be more honored. he’s doting on you the whole week leading up to it, making sure you feel comfortable, constantly letting you know it’s okay to change your mind. you never do.

he’s so nervous when the day comes, timid with you throughout the whole day, checking up on you every hour until nightfall.

he fingers you slowly, languidly, working you up gently and helping you fall into a comfortable, relaxing orgasm that opens you up to him. he wound himself way too tight in the process. listening to your sweet, soft moans of his name, feeling your frantic hand grip any part of him you can hold, seeing that loving, thankful look in your eyes as you fall over the edge, almost dragging him with you.

you’re too much for him from the second he’s inside you. too wet, too warm, too tight, and too fucking perfect. you’re taking him insanely well, he’s working himself in faster than even he can handle and you’re still begging him for more.

he stops 3/4 of the way because he’s pulsating. he’s holding you down, pressing your hips into the bed because you won’t stop grinding on him. it doesn’t help much because now you’re just moaning, whining, and whimpering his name on repeat. he starts muttering for you to be quiet, to stop saying his name like that but it just has you fluttering on his cock, coaxing his cum from the tip.

he’s grunting out blame on you as he cums like; “i told ‘ya to shut it” and “i fuckin’ tried, baby” he continues to blame you afterward telling you that he’s an old man and you’re too sweet for him. he’s embarrassed but tries not to show it, burying himself between your legs instead. he makes you cum two more times as an apology.

bucky barnes - 0.5k

he can’t even believe that you’re a virgin, let alone the idea that you want him to change that. he’s a bitch abt it ofc, much like joel. denying it at first, trying to get you to change your mind but feeling incredibly special when you don’t.

he hasn’t been with anyone since being iced so he’s basically a virgin as well. he can remember some things but is very scared that women don’t even like the things he knows anymore.

he jerks himself off through the whole day. he’s rendered useless with the thought that he’ll be taking your virginity tonight. he can't stop thinking about how pretty you'll look on his cock, moaning for him, screaming and cumming for him.

he’s already hard from the moment you come home but tries to pretend he isn’t, tries to pretend that he hasn’t been thinking about making love to you since he woke up but you know him. you decide to take him as soon as you get in, right there in the living room, on the couch.

he’s stuttering at you to stop, that you guys should go to the room, take it slower, and so on but he’s doing nothing to stop you, actually he’s helping you pull your pants off as he says it. he’s already leaking onto his thighs when you take his boxers off.

you position yourself over his cock and his breathing is already speeding up and stuttering. you take a little while to get him in, having to adjust to his girth, and moaning about how good he feels the whole way down. his eyes roll back and his metal arm groans with how hard he’s gripping the armrest, leaving indents in the wood underneath.

your hands are in his hair as you grind on him and his head is thrown back. he’s moaning your name and incoherent praises as his stomach tenses rhythmically, his thighs shake and his mumbles become a bit more frantic. he holds his head back up to make eye contact with you and he mutters out that he 'can’t', that 'you’re gonna make him cum' and he 'can’t hold it.' you can see the desperation in his eyes, the honest panic in his voice and it makes heat pool in your belly as you pussy chokes him.

he fills you. pumping rope after rope after rope of cum inside you and moaning like a slut. his hips thrust into you so forcefully that you fall forward onto his chest, feeling the breath from his moans on your ear. he's barely enjoying it, too distracted by the embarrassment that is flooding his body... until you’re squeezing his dick like a vice and moaning his name. his eyes roll back again with a guttural moan, ripped from his chest as he feels a fresh load shoots into your trembling pussy.

he’s still embarrassed after though. that he came before you AND he came twice while you only came once but you assure him it was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed

miguel o'hara - 0.5k

he would take forever to accept. he'd tell you that it's too precious for you to give to him, that you should save it for someone more deserving but you want him so he caves.

he tried to treat the day like any other but he gets hard every time he looks at you, visions of you all laid out and pretty for him, his thick cock abusing your poor virgin pussy as you whine for him. he cannot get the thought out of his head, no matter what he tries to distract himself with.

so when he's working you open, fucking you as gently as he can. it's not as romantic as he would've hoped, you're laying stomach down across his lap as he fingers you but it's only because you wouldn't stop moaning in his face when you were straddling him. he couldn't handle it.

you're doing the same thing now though. it's just how he imagined except he's not fucking you, he's got maybe half his dick in you and you're already moaning and writhing under him. begging him for more, telling him how happy you are, and that it feels 'so fucking good'.

his arms begin to shake, unable to hold himself up with how weak you're making him. you keep clenching on him, he keeps asking you to stop and you respond with a helpless "I c-can't help it." that has him twitching inside you. he tries to think about something- anything other than how you're sucking him in. he's almost to the hilt and your hips are lifting off the bed, trying to take more of him.

he lets you. watching as you moan at the way he slides in, rubbing along your sensitive walls. he watches you look down at where you both meet, where your pussy is absolutely devouring him, he watches your mouth drop open in a silent moan and your eyes trail up to meet his before rolling back into your head as you collapse back onto the bed. he can't handle it.

he's groaning- pulling your hips to him, forcing himself deeper as he fills you up- before you even hit the pillows. his breathing becomes erratic as he thrusts into you, every muscle tensed and shaking. he can't seem to shut up either, he's moaning your name out more often than he's breathing. he can hear you whining in response, and he can see you playing with your clit and it makes it worse.

he doubles down and fucks you through his orgasm, ignoring the painful pleasure that shoots through him from his cock in favor of making you cum. he keeps going until you've cum around him twice and he's released a monstrous amount of cum into you.

he's embarrassed and guilty after. he wishes he hadn't cum before you and feels like it was all too much for your first time. he doesn't stop apologizing for the rest of the night, no matter how many times you tell him that you loved it, that it was more perfect than you could've imagined. he only shuts up when you beg him for it again next week.

[lovebugism]

Hi I am begging on my knees for more of your steddie x reader it’s so good I’m crying

BIZARRE LOVE TRIANGLE | baby fever

summary: steve's got a bad case of baby fever. it's not so bad until you start getting sick with it too. eddie has to come up with a solution before all of you fall ill.

pairing: steve harrington / f!reader / eddie munson

a/n: i just realized i haven't posted anything steddie related in almost three months. i am so sorry. this is a total travesty. please enjoy this 3k blurb and find it in your heart to forgive me <3

You squint at the grocery list scribbled on a bright blue sticky note. It’s a mish-mash of all your different handwritings. Some are certainly neater than others. “This just says crabs… I think...”

“It doesn’t say crabs, you loon,” Eddie laughs from where he mans the shopping cart beside you. He’s steering the thing about as well as his van. “It says cereals.”

“No, it says a bunch of gibberish that no one can read but you,” you retort with a giggle of your own as you follow him down the breakfast aisle. “And we just need one box of cereal, alright? Singular.”

He turns to you with a cartoonish pout on his lips. “But why?”

“Because you’re like a kid, Eds. You eat the entire thing in one sitting, and then you’re absolutely haywire for the rest of the day.”

And, just like a child, the boy stands in front of the vibrantly colored boxes of cereal with a wide grin on his face.

The local grocery store was smaller compared to the others in town, but they had every brand of the breakfast food known to man, stacked in neat rows from the floor to ceiling. 

Eddie’s got a twinkle in his eye as his gaze runs over them all. And even though you think it’s all boyish and hilarious, you let him have his fun. 

He grew up unable to enjoy all the goodness of overly sweet cereal because bills and food with actual sustenance were always more important. Now, he’s got a halfway stable job with Wayne at the car shop, and he’s living at his own place with his boyfriend and girlfriend, and he can buy whatever the hell kind of cereal he wants. 

So, as far as he’s concerned, everyone who said he’d never amount to much can suck it. 

And you know you’ll let him buy the whole damn grocery store out of their cereal if that’s what he wants. It’s the least you can do for the world’s best boyfriend — a title he begrudgingly shares with Steve The Hair Harrington.

You’d give him the world if you could, but for now you’ll have to settle for a couple of boxes of Lucky Charms.

“Okay, so the OJ’s we got last time tasted like absolute shit,” Eddie mutters, mostly to himself as he crouches to peer at the lower shelves. “I saw a commercial for Waffle-O’s this morning, and they looked pretty good. But I know you like Breakfast With Barbie and Steve ate a bowl of C3PO’s every day for, like, two weeks, so…”

You stand by the cart and laugh at his rambling. You turn to look behind you with a lighthearted joke sitting on the edge of your tongue. It dissipates when you realize Steve isn’t next to you. 

Instead, he’s still standing at the end of the aisle with his back to you and Eddie — like his feet forgot how to work when he caught sight of the family across the store. It’s a mother and a father, dressed in their mid-weekday finest, with a baby swaddled at their chest and a toddler bouncing in the seat of the shopping cart. 

And you know it’s got the boy totally lost in his own head. You know he's picturing you and him and Eddie as that happy family — the one fills every store you walk into with baby babbles and bubbly laughter. 

Steve told you his senior year of high school he wanted a baby, that he wanted six of them, and that he wanted them all with you. And you were just a stupid seventeen-year-old girl who would’ve done anything he asked you to, though you definitely drew the line at babies. 

But you’re older now, and far more settled than you had been all that time ago. Steve’s ready for a family, but you don’t think you’re anywhere close.

“How about we just compromise and get all three?” Eddie finally concludes with the boxes already in his arms. He dumps them into the cart and notices that your attention is elsewhere. He realizes then that Steve’s gone too because his attention is stuck on a nice family minding their own business. 

“Not again…” he murmurs to himself while you go rescue the boy.

“I’ve never seen someone so sick with baby fever in my life,” you laugh as you drag Steve back to the cart by his wrist.

“I can’t help it!” he defends weakly. “They were so cute! They were all matching and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I can’t wait to coordinate outfits with our baby. Doesn’t that sound like the cutest fucking thing ever?”

“It sounds very adorable, Stevie,” you nod understandingly and try to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of him and his baby girl wearing matching pastels every time they step out of the house. “And we can be just like them in five years—”

“Five years?” he gapes.

“Maybe even ten,” Eddie shrugs and nonchalantly tosses a box of Count Chocula into the cart.

“Ten years— You guys are insane if you think I’m waiting ten years to have a kid!” Steve protests with a pair of buff arms crossed boyishly over his chest. “I’m not getting any younger over here, you know that, right?”

“You’re twenty-five, Steve, stop being so dramatic. We’re just now trying to get settled. I’m still in school, you’re still working at Family Video, Eddie’s still… Eddie. Don’t you think we should have actual careers before we have a kid?”

Steve huffs and rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance even though he knows you’re right.

It’s not like he wants to keep working at the stupid store on Main Street. He keeps putting off the conversation with his dad about another job, because he puts off every conversation with his dad. He’s scared of what asking for a position at his firm will do to his pride.

“She’s right, and you know it, Steven,” Eddie tells him, then scoffs. “I mean, can you really imagine me with a baby strapped to my chest on tour?”

You and Steve both pause and tilt your heads to the side as you picture the sight, terribly in sync as always. You can imagine it, quite perfectly actually, tangible enough to touch.

“Well—”

“That’s the cutest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Steve finishes your thought for you.

Eddie cowers at the sudden attention. “Okay, stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat, alright? We are not having a kid right now. There’s no fucking way.”

Steve all but deflates at the rejection as Eddie pushes the cart down the aisle, desperate to escape the bubble of tension the conversation had created in the cereal section.

You smile sheepishly over at Steve and wrap your arms through the crook of his elbow, standing on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “He’s being grumpy about it, but he’s right… It’s just not a good idea right now— but it will be, okay? One day. Just not… to-day.”

┄

The day, for you, comes exactly seven of them later. 

You accompany Steve on his morning run and his routine stop for coffee. You��re not quite sure how he’s still mobile because your muscles are screaming, even after the warm shower you took to soothe them.

You left him alone for all of half a second to use the bathroom while he ordered drinks for him and you, and something extra for Eddie for when the boy decides to roll out of bed.

When you return, you find him bouncing a baby on his hip — a young thing, maybe three if you had to guess, with two buns in her hair like bunny ears and a sparkly pink dress to match the bows she wears in them.

Steve smiles down at her, talking to her in a baby voice and saying something you can’t hear because you’re frozen in place. You resemble him at the grocery store a week ago, when he was thrown into a daydream so suddenly that his body all but shut down. 

You look at him now, tickling the baby’s sides just to hear her giggle, and you see him with your firstborn — sleep deprived, covered in spit-up, and still the most beautiful human you’d ever seen.

You have to shake your head to remove the thought before it ruins you entirely. 

Freshly jostled from your stupor, you walk over to him. “Steve… Please tell me you didn’t steal someone’s baby.”

He laughs. “What? No! She was just a little fussy, and I offered to take her while her mom looked for something,” the boy explains. You look just behind him to see the woman bent over at one of the smaller tables, sifting vigorously through a large baby bag.

“She doesn’t seem very fussy now,” you observe, eyes flitting between his and the child's and noticing they’ve both got matching grins.

“She doesn’t, does she?” he smiles, softly scratching at her sides again to make her laugh. And she does, most enthusiastically so, tilting her head back and letting the giggles spill from an open mouth.

He turns back to you, with wide eyes and raised brows and a bemused grin. “I like she likes me.”

“Of course, she does,” you scoff. “Babies always like you.”

The mom returns with a snack in hand and a relieved smile. Steve passes the baby back to her with little effort. She whines at the loss of him, though the brightly packaged treat is quick to quell her sorrow. 

“Thanks for taking her,” the mother's grateful smile falters with exhaustion. “If I don’t give her the same snack at exactly the same time every day, she tends to go a little nuts.” 

Steve tells her that it’s no problem, that he was a part-time babysitter at one point in his life, and that her kid was better than those little shits combined. He censors himself before the swear slips out, though.

You go your separate ways when the barista calls out your drink orders and walk hand in hand back to your place.

“Did you get their names?” you ask him before taking a sip of your latte.

“The mom’s name was Maeve and the kid’s name was Harper—”

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

Steve snaps his head over to you because he thinks you’ve burnt your mouth. Instead, he finds you with a distant smile on your face.

“Those are the cutest names I’ve ever heard. It sounds like something out of a fucking cartoon or something.”

“Yeah…” is all he can say because his mind is preoccupied with a million other thoughts. He doesn’t tell you them, obviously, but you know they’re there. The sly smile pulling at his lips makes it obvious.

“…Why are you looking at me like that.”

“Because I’m totally gonna wear you down,” he grins and brings his coffee to his mouth, sipping through his smirk.

You only scoff in response. “Never.”

┄

It doesn’t take you very long to realize that Steve was right.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about it — about him with a baby and how perfect he'd be as a dad. The thoughts plague you far more than they usually do. They take up the entire frontal cortex of your brain and make it nearly impossible to think about anything else.

You’re self-aware enough to beat yourself up about it. 

You were just telling him that it wasn’t time yet, and you knew you were right. As far as you’re concerned, you still have another few good years before you’re ready to even start seriously considering it. 

But here you are, having to calm yourself down every time the thought of Steve Harrington with a baby, your baby, crosses your mind.

You wait until the boy heads to bed to talk to Eddie about it. You find him in the kitchen, eating handfuls of Breakfast with Barbie like a maniac. You’re too preoccupied to make a snarky comment about it.

“Steve wasn’t lying,” you warn him.

“..About what?” he wonders through the mouthful.

“About him not waiting ten years to have a baby! He wants one now!” you explain through a yell-whisper hybrid. “And he told me he was going to wear me down, and he was right.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide too, like he’s just learned you caught some sort of plague. You have. It’s called baby fever, and it’s only a matter of time before the entire house is afflicted. “Shit…”

“So you have to be the strong one, Eddie.”

“Oh, god,” he whines with pinched brows. “Why does it have to be me?”

“Because I saw him hold a baby today.”

“…And this is a bad thing?”

“Of course, it’s a bad thing! My hormones went crazy, okay? It’s like my brain stopped functioning, and I started thinking with my ovaries or something! All human instinct told me to lay down and procreate the second we got home!”

Eddie laughs to himself. “Are you sure it was human instinct, or was it just you on a normal Wednesday?”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you tell him, a sudden solemnity to your features. “You have to put your foot down whenever Steve talks about it because I will cave.”

“Alright, alright, have some Barbie cereal and settle down,” he tells you with a playful grin.

He offers you the box and you pout for a moment before sticking your hand into it and pulling out several red and purple butterfly pieces.

The boy wraps an arm around you with his free hand. He pulls you closer and noses at the crown of your head. You sigh as you relax into him. 

“I’ll take care of it, okay? I actually have the perfect idea.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you waver through a mouthful of cereal.

“Don’t worry about it,” he lilts with a grin, smacking a kiss to your forehead. “Let me take care of it.”

┄

You and Steve are tangled in bedsheets, both slowly rousing but trying desperately to go back to sleep. 

You’re laying on your stomach, face smushed into the pillow you clutch to your head. Steve lays halfway on top of you — his legs knotted with yours, arm splayed over your back, and softly snoring in your ear. 

Both of you noticed the lack of Eddie’s presence, but chose not to linger on it too much, figuring he must’ve gone for a breakfast run. 

He returns hardly a moment after the thought of him crosses your mind. You hear the door open and shut again, then the shouts of your names entwined with a muffled barking.

You groan at the intrusion on your sleep.

Steve huffs and shifts against you, voice gruff with fatigue as he wonders: “Why do I hear a dog?”

The mixture of confusion and subtle knowing has you both shuffling out of the bedroom and trudging into the living room.

You round the corner and find Eddie standing by the door with a rowdy goldendoodle bouncing at his feet. He’s trying hopelessly to undo its leash when the thing starts to squirm at the sight of you and Steve.

Eddie’s eyes flit to the both of you when he notices you standing across the room. A smile bursts like early morning sunshine on his face. “Surprise!” he beams.

The metal of the leash clicks when he finally gets it unbuckled. The dog dashes your way, all but jumping into Steve and then spinning in circles with excitement as it tries to figure out who to accept attention from. 

“You got us a dog?” the boy wonders, head cocked back to dodge the thing as it licks at his chin.

“You said you wanted a baby,” Eddie shrugs. “So, I got you a baby.”

“This is so not what a meant,” the boy grouses in response, though he’s got his arms wrapped around the dog like he’s hugging it. “I mean, it’s not even a baby— it’s huge.”

“The woman at the shelter said he was eight months old. And he is a he, so stop calling him it.”

You crouch beside Steve, scratching the dog behind his ear. He pants with his tongue sticking out, almost looking like he’s smiling. It makes you smile too. 

“We don’t even have dog food. Or toys. Or a bed,” you stress. “What are we even gonna name it?”

“Well, I took care of exactly one of those things,” Eddie lilts with a grin. “They only had that gross artificial shit at the grocery store, but they did have some badass collars and an engraving machine, so…”

You and Steve peek through the dog’s golden curls and find a black band with silver spikes dotted around the neck. “Super metal, huh?” you hear himEdiejoke as you reach for the dangled heart pendant handing around the collar.

“…Ozzy?” you recite.

“See what I mean?” he beams. “Metal.”

[carolmunson]

the moon had turned to gold.

(soft!eddie x badatfeelings!gf)

and we're back folks. i'm going through it so i had to revisit my kids. the badatfeelings!gf set is a series of ramblings with no rhyme or reason, flow of conciousness. not from a 'you' perspective but 'she/her' has no physical descriptors.

tw: depictions and descriptions of depression (eddie to the rescue). because i'm sad!

Her eyes have been half closed for days -- wakes up and gets out of bed, makes coffee, reads the paper, gets back in bed for an indescerable amount of time. More coffee, hand fulls of shredded cheese, water from the side table that's been there for days. She hasn't been going into work, just in the dark of her room while the hum of the window unit drones on and on and on. He knocks, opening the door to darkness despite the warm glow of golden hour outside -- her black out curtains a bigger success than she expected. She's awake but not really, eyes glazed over watching snow on the TV she moved to her bedroom.

Summer blues she called it, summertime sad. The air is stale, he can tell she hasn't moved much this morning. She hasn't moved much all month. "Hi." Quiet and soft, rounded edges in his voice, "Bad day?"

She uses whatever strength she has to lift her arm out of the covers and give him a thumbs down. He lets a huff of a laugh out of his nose, "Yeah, I see that." Despite laying in bed all day her body is tense and he knows that maybe she'll feel better about moving when she knows the sun is going down. He thought this vampire sleep schedule shit would've been sexier -- but it's not. It hurts to see her like this, so tired from just waking up, so sick of just existing. He's seen her cry more than he has in the years they've been together. But at least she's like -- crying. She never used to cry at all.

He sneaks onto the edge of the bed, his backside and hips nestling in the dip of her waist over the covers, "Do you know what would be nice?"

"Hm?" she asks, body heavy while she flops over to put an arm around where she can reach. "Taking a shower," he offers, hand resting on her hair, thumb grazing her forehead, "You always feel a little better after." "Mhm," she nods sleepily. "I can put your jammies in the drier so they're cozy when you come out," he smiles, voice still soft, still rounded edges. Her lashes flutter before she looks up at him, glassy and glazed, half here half not. Zombie girlfriend, vampire girlfriend, monster girlfriend, sad girlfriend. She's so pretty, he thinks.

"Yeah," she nods.

"Yeah to the jammies in the drier?" he asks. "Yeah," she says, her voice is quiet -- meek. 'Yeah' was her first word of the day. "That," she nods again, deep breath in through the nose and it rattles at the exhale, "Shower, too."

He helps her up and hears the crack in some of her bones, the stiffness in her joints while her face contorts at the change in position. She's been in the same sleep shirt for three days, some field day shirt from college. Green socks on her feet, the tops shoved down her ankles, one nearly falling off. No crumbs in her bed at least -- he knows she's too anxious for that. But the dishes aren't done and the bag of shredded cheese is abandon on the counter. Mugs of varying fullness off coffee are sitting in random placeholders in the small apartment. Forgetful -- foggy.

"C'mon," he coos, pulling her in at the shoulders to take her to the bathroom. She's so tired from doing nothing that she can't help but keep doing nothing. He pulls off her sleep shirt and panties, he helps with the socks, turning the shower on to a medium heat. Forhead kiss, cheek kiss, cheek kiss. Poor baby.

"Do you need help getting in?"

She shakes her head no.

"What do you want to wear for PJs?"

She shrugs. He figured she would.

He pulls back the shower curtain and she gets inside, he waits for the inevitable sigh she lets out when the water hits her. He peeks in, her naked body not important the way it usually is -- its those eyes, half closed -- less sad, less sleepy. Contemplative, alive. Half dead lover. His ghoulish girl.

"I'll leave them in here for when you're done."

He knows he has time to clean up for her -- easy to get lost in the void when you stand in the shower and that's where she is. Here and gone and here and gone again. Tongue tucked away between her teeth -- he almost misses when she's mean. He misses her so bad, but he takes what he can get, even if it's putting sweats in the drier.

When the hot water runs out she emerges, wet hair dripping down onto the new t-shirt -- still warm like the sweats on her legs. Fresh linen scent radiating off her like her coconut conditioner. She doesn't even care that the rest of the house is warm and sticky from the air outside. It's fresher now, he opened the windows and did the dishes. Cleaned out all the mugs. Opened your bedroom door to let the coolness flow to some of the house, too make things less stale. He lit two candles, sugar cookie scented -- it's all you ever bought because that's his favorite.

"Thank you," voice still meek. Still under twentywords today. Eyes a little more open. He puts down the mug he was drying and tosses the hand towel over the faucet of the sink.

"S'no problem, baby," soft round edges, soft round boy. Patched vest left behind on the kitchen table chair, soft cut off t-shirt left behind. Tattooed arms outstretched to her in the sterile light of the kitchen, the sun is down now -- the stars starting to peek out of a dark navy sky.

She lets herself get pulled into him and it feels like it's happening in slow motion -- face in his chest, he closes in on her like a wave. The pressure is welcomed -- she's alive but barely. Biceps crush on her shoulder blades, her neck cracks -- reanimator boyfriend, zombie girlfriend. Living glass doll that feels better off dead. She falls into the hold while he sways with her, chin on her wet hair.

"Blue moon, you saw me standing alone..." he sings quietly while he sways, his own eyes shutting, "C'mon, sing it with me." He feels her head move in a 'no' on his chest. "It's your favorite," he argues, "It'll feel good." Another sigh -- the inevitable. "Without a dream in my heart..." He smiles at her voice, coming out a little stronger than before, he snickers before beginning again. "Without a love of my own..."

"Blue moon," they start together, he smiles a little stronger. She's doing her best so he doesn't push it when she doesn't keep singing. He peers down while he continues, her eyes are closed against his chest but she feels alive. Just safer. The kind of safe where she'll sleep good tonight, might even eat breakfast tomorrow.

"And then suddenly, appeared before me..."

He shakes her to the beat the song normally has, bum bum bum bum. She huffs a chuckle a the shimmying, smile stretching against the warm fabric of his shirt, the inhale like laundry detergent and summer heated skin. "The only one my arms will ever hold, I heard somebody whisper, 'Please, adore me'..."

"That's me," she interrupts, he pulls her in tighter, the sway stops slow. "Yeah," he sighs out, "That's you. Dropped right outta the sky." "Yeah," she says, head tilting up. The whites of her eyes glisten despite the redness creeping in at the edges. "I ordered pizza," he says, "Cause I know you didn't eat."

Her brows furrow, mouth souring.

"I know, I'm awful," he giggles, "Gotta feed the girl in your brain that isn't so sad -- that's my girl in there."

"M'still your girl even when I'm sad," voice back to sleepy meekness, she yawns.

"Yeah, you are," he confirms sweetly, plush lips pressing against her forhead, "Always my girl."

In the cool white green light of the kitchen they stand in damp solitude -- with a heave of her chest she starts to cry. He doesn't need to know the reason, just as long as she does -- as long as he's there to hold her through it. Alive girl. Fully alive in the darkness of another deep blue summer night.

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold.

more badatfeelings here

[nonbinary-eddie-munson]

Steve hadn't meant to evesdrop on eddies new band. Really, he was an innocent party here.

Once things had calmed down in the aftermath of Vecna, Steve and Eddie had scrounged up every penny they could -steve even sold his precious beemer so they could have the extra cash- and got the hell out of dodge. Eddie couldn't stay in a town where everyone still looked at him like he was a murderer and Steve loved Eddie too much to keep him trapped in a town that hated him.

They had settled into chicago nicely, far enough away from the hellmouth that was hawkins, indiana that they werent constantly jumping at the sight of their own shadows, but still close enough they could be back in less than a day if shit started going down again.

The metal scene in chicago was just starting to take off, and Eddie quickly fell in with a local band that was in need of a new lead guitar. Steve had yet to meet any of Eddies new band members, his work and class schedules keeping him entirely too busy and exhausted for socializing. All of which led to this moment, Steve hovering awkwardly at the end of the hallway leading backstage as Eddies new bandmates tore him apart.

"Seriously how'd a guy as hard core as Ed end up with a preppy little asshole like that, i mean did you see what he was wearing?" The drummer scoffed

Self-consciously Steve worried at the hem of his black polo, he had stressed over his outfit all evening before they headed out to the venue. Eddie assured him that he looked great telling him he looked "like a sexy little gothed up jock" in his black polo, his tightest jeans and just the barest hint of eyeliner and mascara to make his eyes pop

"I know it must have been slim pickings back in butt fuck nowhere but Ed's got options now. Sure, the guy has a nice ass, but Ed could pull someone who's not gonna ruin our cred by dating a guy who looks like a narc" the bassist added on meanly.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat Steve turned to head back to the bar when Eddies voice stopped him in his tracks.

"People who disrespect my boyfriend dont get to talk about his ass" came Eddies sharp reply "Steve is more metal than all of you dumb fucks combined, and he's the inspiration behind all of the lyrics that are making us so big in the scene right now. If you cant fucking respect my boyfriend, you sure as hell dont deserve to get famous off the songs i wrote about him so im fucking out and im taking my songs with me."

"Ed you cant be fucking serious" the drummer started

"No, fuck you guys! You act all high and mighty but your just as fuckin shallow and small minded as the dumb hicks Steve and I left Indiana to get away from. Good luck finding someone to replace me and my songs before the fest next month" Eddie spat, his footsteps thundering against the concrete floor and around the corner into the hallway, coming up short as soon as he spotted Steve frozen in the hallway shocked at Eddies fierce defence of him.

"Oh sweetheart" Eddie crooned bringing a hand up to cup the side of Steves face his thumb gently swiping away the tears Steve hadnt even realized had begun to fall "I'm sorry you had to hear that baby. Lets go home" Eddie took his hand back from Steves face, wrapping it around his waist and tucking Steve firmly against his side ushering a still dazed Steve down the hall, out of the bar and into the cool night air

"Your didnt have to do that Eds" Steve said quietly, reluctantly pulling away from Eddie now that they were out in the open where anybody could see.

"Of course i did baby. You're the love of my life. You matter more to me than anything else in this world. More than my guitar and metal and dnd. And certainly more than some mouth breathers who wouldnt know what metal is if it got up on stage and took a bite out of a demon bat" Eddie replied with a grin and a wink swooping down to press a quick peck against Steves mouth as he stood in the middle of the sidewalk frozen in shock at Eddies declaration

"Im more important to you than music and dnd?" Steve asked in a quiet awed voice, his heart beating rapidly as if it was trying to physically escape his chest and burrow itself into the flesh of Eddies own ribcage.

"Sure are sweetheart, now why dont you get that sexy ass of yours moving so we can get home and I can show you just how much I mean it" Eddie replied, his voice lowering into a deep gravel that drove Steve crazy, hands reaching out to pull Steve forward a few steps urging him in the directon of the van parked furthur down the street.

Steve stumbled after Eddie, letting the other man lead him, his brain still not fully back online after Eddies bold decleration of love.

Steve didn't believe in any god, but he found himself thanking every god he could think of for bringing Eddie Munson into his life.

[cosmal]

wrapping paper — send me in a character + and au (and a prompt!) and i’ll write you a blurb! eg. bartender!eddie, firefighter!james.

um firefighter!james would definitely make stupid jokes about you being hotter than all the fires he’s had to put out. like he comes home and ur in his boxers and a tank top and he’s like wheww back to work ig 🧯🧯🧯

on fire

summary james is a nusiance when he comes home from work.

content firefighter!jamespotter x fem!afab!reader

note mal...........

James gets home and throws his duffle into the laundry before you can see the massive stain it's earned from his open Powerade. He can hear you singing, he thinks that's more important than washing his shit.

He follows the sweet lilt of your voice to the sitting room, all high and pretty, and a little puffed out. You turn with a cute jump and James tries not to stare at your thighs - or your boobs or tummy. Anything that bounces enough to make him feel dizzy. He's not always a total pervert when it comes to you.

You catch him and you beam. He doesn't spook you with his quiet entrance and James likes that a lot more than he thinks he should. You look absolutely pleased to see him, giddy smile and sparkling eyes. James doesn't expect you to catch him if he passes out at the sight of you so he sits himself down on your sofa, content with watching you dance.

You keep your earphones in, the wire going crazy as you bounce. A pair of his boxers that he knows you love, and a tank top that rides up your back as you move to show him more skin than he thinks he deserves.

The song comes to an end and you rip out your earphones and throw your phone to the couch, puffing with giddiness. "Hey, Jamie," you chirp, moving to stand between his open legs. He reaches behind you to squeeze at your thighs, soft skin under his calloused, heavy hands.

"Christ," he murmurs quietly. He feels just as out of breath as you do. "Shit, baby, grab your phone quickly."

You don't reach for It, just giggle. "What, why?"

"I need to call the boys," he pants like he's actually flustered. "Need to tell them there's a fire. That my girlfriend's so hot, she's on fire."

You fall into him, legs parted over his lap and tell him to shut up. He doesn't, obviously. He's not going to when you're laughing like that

He pulls his hand up to his ear like a phone. "Mark, shit, you better get over here. This might be the hottest we've seen."

You hit him in the chest with less heat than he's expecting, hiding yourself in his neck. "Stop," you murmur into his skin. "James, stop it."

"Babe, you're burning up," he says, squeezing at your sides until you squirm. You keep yourself hidden much to his displeasure. He wants to hold your face in his hands.

"You're awful," you sigh, melting like a puddle in his lap. Thighs flattened out like cake batter in a pan. You make the prettiest sound like a hiccup against his ear and James thinks he actually doesn't want you to sit up.

"I know," he laughs. James is selfish when he pushes his hands under the tank top you can barely classify as one. He's not one to complain, every slip of skin he catches he feels worse than he acts.

There's a beat of silence before you get more comfortable. "How was work, baby?"

James tucks his chin over your shoulder and turns to kiss the skin behind your ear. "It was good. Long."

"Poor baby," you say and he wishes you wouldn't. He shivers. "Were you safe?"

Of course, he was. He's always safe. For you. "Yeah."

"Good."

He kisses you once more and hisses like he's been burnt. "Looks like I've come right home to the danger anyways."

You lift yourself from your lap, a hint of reluctance in your sluggish movements. "Right, you're done."

"No," he reaches out to grab at you and almost catches your wrist, "baby, come back!"

You walk out to your bathroom and he feels defeated before he hears. "So, are you coming?"

James has never leapt to his feet quicker. "Of course!" he calls back. "Gotta put out the fire somehow."

[deceptive-daydreams]

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

Smoke Signals

Chapter Six - Sugar

W/C: 4.5K

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

A crybaby and the town grump walk into a bar...

A/N: idk why but this chapter was giving me so much trouble and i've been really doubting my writing and second guessing. It's more of a filler chapter but still important to the story. I'm super excited for what's to come tho!!

Masterlist

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Three Weeks Later

“Bambi, go home already.  Your shift ended–”  Eddie pauses to check his watch.  “-jesus, like an hour ago.  Why are you still here?” 

The floors were pristine, mopped to perfection, chairs stacked on top of the tables, and rags started in the washer.  Every glass found home on their corresponding shelves, all dried and perfectly polished for the following shift, not one imperfection among the twinkling surfaces.  The place was spotless and there you were, standing on top of the bar in order to reach the top of the light fixtures which, judging by the amount of dust on them, went neglected for some time now.  Your apron was long discarded on one of the barstools and sweat dripped from your brow, the epitome of hard work if he’d ever seen it.  The Bourbon hadn’t been this clean in years.

“I’m almost done, I swear.”  You reply quietly, clearly far more engaged in your cleaning frenzy than any conversation he was trying to coax you into.

“No, you’re done.”  Eddie marches around the bar, revealing himself just in your peripheral.  “Get outta here.”  There wasn’t an ounce of venom behind his words, however, he was without a doubt becoming increasingly annoyed.

You chance a glance down at him only to find his standard scowl etched onto his face.  Except, it wasn’t as mean spirited as you were used to and it hadn’t been for quite some time.  It was cute; the way his lip would slightly jut out and how his smile lines were so prominent, eyes drooping in irritation.  Endearing irritation that you grew accustomed to.

“I will.”  You state, feather duster swiping through a satisfying amount of dust.  “When I finish.”

“No, get down.”

Your first instinct is to obey without question.  Listen to authority.  But in the previous weeks, you’d found it easier to let loose.  Sure, Eddie was always somewhat crabby but it never intimidated you and whenever he found himself particularly pissed off, he’d banish himself to the back office which aided in releasing any tension you’d built up throughout the week.  So, it wasn’t that difficult to at least attempt some friendly banter.  Especially if you could get him to crack a smile.  It was a win in your books when he tried so hard to withhold it from you or even better, turned around completely to shield his broken composure from you.

“Don’t you have–what did you call it– ‘a shit ton of paperwork’ to do?”  You joke. 

“Ha.  Ha.  I’m serious, get down.”  He mocks, glaring up at you, a stupid little tug pulling at the corners of his mouth.  Barely noticeable, but you take note of it.

“‘M not gonna fall, if that’s what you're worried about.”  You mumble, shaking your head.

“Judging by how many times you nearly eat shit throughout the week, I’m pretty worried.”  

Pretty worried.   

Saliva caught in the back of your throat, you try to play it off like dust that had gotten trapped in your airways, clearing your throat.  Only, your body had just reacted far too quickly to his words, resulting in the failure of a simple bodily function.

“I do not…”  You crouch down, poking the end of the feather duster at his chest.  “...fall that often.”  You pout.

“Yeah?”  A tiny smile pulls at his lips.  There it is.  “That’s why I said ‘nearly’.”

If you could bottle up the look he was giving you, you would selfishly keep it all for yourself to stare at on bad days.  Such mischief and amusement lingered in his gaze.  Sparks lighting up the dark and cloudy haze he usually exhibited.  Like fireworks against a colorless sky, beautiful hues popping left and right but after all, everything is always temporary.

“I don’t ‘nearly’ fall that often either.”  You whine.

“Just get off my bar and go home.”  Eddie demands, voice warm and buttery despite his intent to kick you out.  

Staring at him expectantly, he relays the same expression to you with raised brows.  In response, you cock your head to the side, luring the word out of him.  He doesn’t quite catch on, eyes narrowing while you wait.  A smirk appears on your lips as you remain perched on top of the bar, feather duster forgotten next to you.  His eyes grow a few sizes as if to urge you to speak up.  And then he gets it.

“Please.”  It drips from his tongue like warm caramel.

His eyes relax, creases between his brows ceasing and lids becoming heavy.  Another look you would mentally take a snapshot of just to hang it on the walls of your cluttered brain.  You’d be sure to clear a spot just for it.  

“Gladly.”  You offer the same smooth tone, hopping off the bar only to lose your balance along the way.

And before you can face plant into the hard wood planks, two large hands stabilize you, holding your waist firmly until he is sure you aren't going to collapse, but not yet letting go.  If you were to set aside your cowardly tendencies, you would look up and feel his breath against your face.  And you’re sure you could probably count the faint freckles on his nose that you’d only seen briefly when almost colliding into him during a rush.  You only remain glued to the floor, both your eyes and feet.  

“Careful, Bambi.”  He scolds softly. 

“‘M sorry.”  You murmur.

“No need to be sorry.”  You timidly glance up at him.  “Just–just be more careful.”  He pleads.

You were good and ready for him to yell at you, fully prepared to recoil as he raises his voice but it never comes.  And it hadn’t since that one time with the plates but you were like a skittish animal and long before you had even known him, any conflict had you in a corner every time, eyes full of tears and lip trembling.  You could only hope you didn’t look as pathetic right now.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”  He begins to soothe, a certain nervousness in his voice.  Obviously you did look just as pathetic if not more.

His hands had left your waist to graze over your shoulders hesitantly, concern evident in his tone while he consoled you.  He shouldn’t have to console you for fuck’s sake.  Why were you on the verge of tears over your clumsiness?

“Sorry, sorry.  ‘M fine, I swear.”  You attempt to suck back the tears, head tilted toward the ceiling, lip tucked in between your teeth anxiously.  “J-just go do your paperwork.  I’ll be gone in a minute.”  

Just when you think–no hope that he walks away, those large hands are gently grabbing at your wrists as you use your fingers to push the tears back into the corners of your eyes.  A soft touch that for some reason, only made you want to cry more.  

“Stop apologizing.”  Eddie says, attempting to catch your gaze, finding it difficult as you begin to stare at the floor, hiding huge watery globs under your eyelashes.

“Just–let me get my things–”  You begin to voice shakily, vision blurred with tears that you resented.

“Sit down.”  He demands calmly, concern carved into his features from what you can make out through blurred vision.

“No, no, it’s okay–”

“Right here, sit.”  

Eddie directs you to a barstool, the distorted world around you becoming progressively more overwhelming by the second.  And all because you almost fell in front of your boss and he had to catch you.  It wasn’t your intention, appearing as the stupid girl who happened to be a gigantic cry baby, emotions too sensitive to the horrors of the real world.  Though, that was the reality, wasn’t it?

“Sorry.”  You whisper, a few rogue tears escaping after the good fight you put up.

At this, he releases a heavy sigh.  You can’t help but feel childish and small, your confidence devastatingly lower than before as you try to regulate your shaky breathing and wobbly lip.  You just needed a minute, one minute to ride out the wave of anxiety.  Eddie lets your umpteenth apology slide, slowly slipping into the stool next to you.

“I’m–uh–I’m gonna go home.”  Your voice is an octave too high for his liking.

“Not like this you’re not.”

You remain on the stool, embarrassed, your cheeks feeling hot with stained tears.  This was hell if anyone ever asked you.  Slowly but surely revealing just how big of a wimp you were.  Sure, you’d shed a few tears when he screamed at you over the plates but he hadn’t even done anything this time.  You reacted purely on instinct and it was humbling.

“Let’s uh, let’s try this…”  Eddie starts, running a ringed hand through his bangs.  He slides a napkin in front of you before reaching for your apron on the back of his stool, stealing a pen and setting it on the napkin.  “W-write down, uh, write down your feelings?”  He says, so unsure even he couldn’t take himself seriously.

With a sniffle, you try to hide your confusion as you stare at the bland brown napkin.  Eddie groans and for a moment you think it’s because you’re not playing along but quickly dismisses the thought when he reaches for another napkin and steals a second pen from your apron.

“Um, it sounds–it sounds stupid.  It kinda is stupid.  But, um, you just write what you’re feeling?  A-and it’s supposed to…shit I dunno.  It’s supposed to help clear your head I guess?”  He explains.

You wait for him to laugh, wait for him to mock your tear stained face and absolute lack of emotional control.  You wait for the ‘why are you crying’ in the most condescending tone and the lecture as to why you had no reason to cry.  It never comes.  Instead, as you sneak a glimpse at him from the corner of your teary eye, and he starts writing. 

“So, right now, um…”  He clears his throat.  “Right now I’m feeling, uh, concerned?” 

You can tell he’s having trouble coming up with words and that this was difficult for him…feelings were difficult for him.  Something you could heavily relate to.

“Or, uh, you c-can just write…whatever…”  He trails off, clicking the pen against the counter repeatedly. 

Rather than answering, you clumsily pick up the blue pen, dropping it once with a trembling hand before fully grasping it.  Then you begin writing as he instructed.  If he made fun of you for what you were writing down, so be it.  You’d already embarrassed yourself enough.

You expected him to chime in by now, scoffing at what you had written down.  But when you glanced over, he was doodling on his napkin, something that appeared to be a dragon.  Minding his own business.  Awkwardly, you set the pen back on the counter, causing him to peek over at you.

“It helped.”  You mumble.  “A little.”

“Good.”  He replies, tapping his pen against the counter.  “So, uh my therapist usually has me share once I write everything down–or at least share the main points.  You don’t–you don’t have to but that’s just…that’s what we do.”  

Eddie expects you to crumple up the napkin and throw it out.  Then you would leave and think to yourself how ridiculous he is.  He didn’t know how to help people–hell, he didn’t even know how to help himself most of the time.  What he doesn’t expect is for you to shyly slide the napkin in front of him.  Averting his eyes, he’s unsure if he actually has permission to read but when you nod your head ever so slightly, he still has trouble looking down at what you had scribbled out.  It felt like he was peeking into your brain, something he felt he wasn’t worthy of.

Humiliated

Stupid

Exhausted

Anxious

Small

Burden

Crybaby

Lonely

So many words for such a small increment of time that you had been scrawling away on that napkin.  So many words that held such heaviness.

“Wow.”  Is all that he says upon his first glance over.

Anxiously, you suck in a breath, attempting to snatch the napkin back in regret only to fail as Eddie slides it out of your reach.  

“It’s stupid, I-I’m gonna go…”  You begin, hopping off of your stool.

“It’s not stupid–”

Then you were gone, a gust of wind practically slapping him in the face.  He couldn’t find it in himself to complain, only troubled by the inner workings of your mind.  It was all too familiar and he was beginning to feel as if he wasn’t the only one cursed with a diseased mind.  Selfishly, he found comfort in that.  

–

There’s only one thing worse than a shitty car.  Two shitty cars.  Specifically a shitty car and a shitty truck.  Both unreliable, both sputtering every time Eddie put the key in the ignition.  Grandpa Roy’s ‘Ol Reliable four-door sedan wasn’t living up to its name and was on the decline by the looks of it.  It had been for some time, though he was alway able to find a temporary fix and keep it running.  Today he had no such luck.

The truck, Sugar, was arguably in much better shape.  She was well-loved, red paint chipping after years of use and a cracked rear window.  The engine had its moments but she was still better off than ‘Ol Reliable.  

“C’mon, Sugar.  Don’t be like that.”  Eddie mutters, turning the key in the ignition a few times more, only to be met with failure.  “Fuck.”  He whispers, hopping out from the driver’s side to prop the hood open, large hands splayed out along the sides as he prepares for battle.

With a sigh, he ties his hair back and discards his leather jacket on the ground in exasperation, even going as far as to give it a small kick away from his work space.  A wooden work bench was strategically placed on the porch under the awning, leaving no issue for when winter came around so that he had easy access to his tools even in the most dreadful of snows.  Snow hadn’t kissed the ground quite yet but the further into October it got, the more crisp the air became, a subtle announcement for what was to come.

A deep, resentful groan leaves Eddie’s chest as he trudged up the steps to the porch, lips all perfectly pouted while he reluctantly pulls each of his large rings off only to drop them in a cup he’d taken from a diner years ago when he made the move to Knife’s Edge.  An already greased up rag was snatched from the worktop and tucked snugly into his back pocket.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

He counts to himself under his breath as he collects the necessary tools.  It wasn’t like he had to be at the bar yet, though he would’ve liked to stop by the store to stock up on cigarettes and see if he could find any of those cocktail cherries on sale.  He wanted to save where he could.  Every cent mattered.  Then he was more than likely going to sulk in self pity while trying to figure out how to summon money from the sky.  Maybe indulge in a beer in his office.  He couldn’t afford to comp beers for himself like that but he could dream.  After that maybe he’d have a good cry before the chaos ensued again.  

Those plans went out the window when Sugar decided to test his patience.  Perhaps he should be grateful to his unfaithful truck for attempting to lure him out of the isolation he planned to encase himself in.  It was one thing to isolate yourself at home, it was another to trap yourself at your place of work hours before it actually opened and beat yourself up over every little thing and question where it all went wrong.  

“Dammit, dammit, dammit.”  He reiterates to himself, tossing a wrench in his hand as he makes his way back to Sugar.  “Go easy on me.”  He begs.

The pumpkins you had been angling perfectly on your porch were suddenly so miserably uninteresting; how could they not be when such an erotic site was placed right in front of your prying eyes?  Regretfully, your wet dream came to life.  Except, you played no part in it and Eddie paid no mind to you.  Not that he ever would.  And even if he did, you’d made it clear that you were a nutcase.  

You still couldn’t tear your eyes away from the way his arms flexed under his short sleeves and how he grunted while tugging at something under the hood of his truck.  Drool could have been dripping from your chin and you wouldn’t notice, too hypnotized by his every movement.  He had opted to wear some black converse today rather than his standard black combat boots.  It was cute, you couldn’t lie, the small change made you giddy.  And the way his shirt was riding up as he stretched himself over the engine felt like a tease.  A peek at what you had once gotten a glance of while wasted but didn’t get to fully appreciate as your sober self.  

God, you could recall the blurry image of him momentarily pulling his puke stained shirt off cautiously, revealing his lean figure.  It was practically pixelated in your mind.  As you reminisce on what your drunk self had taken for granted, reality feels just as distorted when Eddie’s eyes land on yours.  Huge doe eyes, almost cartoon-like catching your attention as if a moth to a flame.  You want to look away, you beg of yourself to look away but your inner voice is muffled; almost as though you were under an enchantment.

And like a siren call, his voice reaches you.  You fear that you may be all too willing to drown just to hear it again.

“Will you hold this for me?”  He shouts, almost desperately.  Almost.

Your eyes widen, hands still resting atop a perfectly orange pumpkin while you sit pretty on your porch step.  An Autumn dream.  Suddenly, Eddie wishes he would’ve kept to himself rather than requesting your assistance.  Had he thought it through, he would’ve opted to magically grow another hand.  Instead, he stands with ruddy cheeks and syrupy eyes, glazed with adoration that he was frantically attempting to wipe from his vision, shoving the feelings that were oozing out of him back into his stupid sweaty skin.

“Um…”  You reply in surprise, already crossing the border between properties, a shy stutter to your walk.  “Well I don’t really know how to…”  You trail off, suspecting that he could figure out the rest of your thoughts on his own.

Oh, how he regrets calling you over.  His clammy hand clutches the wrench, providing no aid in his attempt to calm his nerves.  

“You don’t…you don’t have to, uh…”  He appears as if he’s battling his own thoughts, gaze casted toward the ground as his eyes dart left and right.  “Can you just hold this?”  He finally gets out, pointing to a part of the engine.  “Sugar won’t start and I swear I can have her running again but it’d be a hell lot easier if you could just hold this real quick.”

“Sugar?”

“Sugar.”  He confirms.  “Oh!”  Realization hits him.  “Yeah, Sugar.  My truck.”  

“Okay…”  You whisper, unsure.

You could almost forget the mortifying incident from the early hours of 3:00 AM as you took in his wet chocolate coated eyes, the light Fall breeze seeming to affect him.  His lashes clumped together like art and his nose was tinted the perfect shade of rose, those faint freckles dotted along the bridge like little constellations.

“Just, right here.”  He instructs, turning his attention back to Sugar.  

Following his lead, you adjust your hand where it's needed, an uncomfortable, greasy residue coating your fingers as he works.  From this angle, the afternoon sun casts a golden glow over his profile, flyaway curls highlighted in the light like a halo and nose endearingly round at the tip with lips tucked into his teeth as he concentrates.  And then, his tongue pokes out, an adoring sight that only makes you yearn to reach out and graze your fingertips over the stubble threatening to emerge from his cheek.

“Thought you’d name it something more…tough.”  

Your meek voice earns a glance over his shoulder, brows furrowed in that cute way that everyone always recognized as harsh and cold-hearted.

“What?”  The way his eyes crinkle at the corners paired with his confused expression only give you more reason to let your stare linger a little bit longer, a bold move on your part.

“Um, Sugar–”

“Oh, Sugar.”  

Simultaneously, you refer to his truck, interrupting each other while his elbow grazes your arm as he tightens a bolt.

“Uh, well…she’s, uh, the only girl in my life.”  He jokes, quietly chuckling.  “And, she’s not exactly brand new so I’ve gotta treat ‘er nice.”

“And…she can hear you?”  You question, attempting to hide your oncoming grin.

This time, he only glares at you over his shoulder.  There’s a comfort in the way his eyes seem to swallow you whole.  

“Okay, okay, ha, ha.  I know, she’s a truck–”

“And you keep calling it a ‘she’.”

Eddie pulls back, stepping away from the engine, prompting you to do the same as you stare up at him, a smidge afraid that you might have actually offended him.  A few rebellious curls frame his face, creating the vision of a princely man who in reality, was nothing of the sort.  Not in the sense that he wasn’t gentlemanly, only in the sense that he didn’t care what others thought.

“What?  You never heard of people calling their car a ‘she’ before?”  He asks, offense barely evident in his tone.  More than anything, he appears to be amused by your observation.

“No, I have.  Just didn’t think you seemed like one of them.”  You remark.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Again his eyebrows crinkle in the cutest fashion, lip curling ever so slightly as he brings a hand to his hip.  You begin to think that no one has ever looked so good covered in grease and you’d never been attracted to the smell of oil but you could make an exception if it meant you’d get to see his features this close.  Eddie was a pretty guy.  And the more his colors showed, the more entranced you became.

“I dunno, nevermind.”  You attempt to divert the conversation.

“No, no, you have to tell me.  Please enlighten me.”  He crosses his arms, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.  

“No, forget it!.”  You giggle.

Eddie can feel his shoulders relaxing at the sound.  Can feel his tension release even if just the slightest.  His eyes relax, a lazy gaze focused on you.  Everything suddenly feels so…calm.  As if his life wasn’t falling apart.  You were like some kind of drug that made him forget how shitty things were and if it only lasted a few seconds at a time, he would gladly invest in as much as he could until he overdosed.  Which to be fair, he didn’t think was possible.  

“No, what do you mean?  Say it with your chest, I dare you.”  He nods at you, eyes showcasing that same spark you’d notice every now and then.  The spark only seemed to get bigger and bigger.  One day you’d hoped to see a fire ignite, a full explosion of his personality.

Biting your lip, you look at him sheepishly, doubting yourself.  But something about his gaze eggs you on.

“You just…you’re all…big and bad.”  You mumble, eyes finding themselves glued to the ground.

“Big and bad?”  Eddie repeats.

It’s enough to have you backtracking, pathetically trying to erase your words.  Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, like a goldfish.

“See, it was stupid!  I was being stupid.  Just forget–”

“Why do you keep doing that?”  He asks, genuine curiosity blended in his tone along with a dash of concern.

“Doing what?”

Your puzzled expression only makes his chest ache.  Leaves crunch under your feet as you fidget, visually nervous.  He hates that he always ends up making you uncomfortable, never able to get a grip though maybe he can blame his highschool-self.  He never talked to girls and maybe if he had, he’d be having better luck right now.  Who’s he kidding, maybe if he just wasn’t even himself he’d be making a lot more progress.

“Calling yourself stupid.”  He mentions quietly.

No one has ever confronted your self-deprecating commentary, only ever remained silent as if to agree with you or they’d simply shift the topic.  Never has someone questioned your reasoning.    

“Oh…well I uh, I didn’t think I did it that often.”  You begin to stutter, clearly taken back.  He wishes he could rewind back to when you were bantering back and forth about his truck.  He probably would’ve found another way to fuck up the conversation, even if he could go back and give himself another chance.  

“But if this is because last night I wrote–”  You start again, only for him to keep running his big mouth.

“A bunch of bullshit?”  He states.  Like it's a fact.

Your wide eyes aren’t a good sign.

“What?”

“Yeah.  Bullshit.”  He sounds so sure of himself.

“Oh.”  

You physically seem as if you're deflating, your body closing in on itself, shoulders slumping while you take a step back.  It was the opposite of what he wanted.  But he could always count on himself to ruin a good thing.

“No, no!  I didn’t mean it like–I didn’t mean–fuckin’ christ.”  Eddie runs his clean hand down his face.  “I didn’t mean it was bullshit.  I meant that…I guess I meant that you shouldn’t feel like that?”

It’s quiet.  Eddie knows he deserves a slap across the face, if anything.  But you just continue staring at the ground, lost in thought.  Moments pass and he’s starting to feel he should dismiss himself and hide forever.  Forget fixing Sugar and just become a hermit.

“Why?”  You whisper.

He doesn’t offer an answer, only shrugs slowly.  He just kept putting nails in his own coffin.

“Don’t you…don’t you think I’m those things?  Like…like there’s something wrong with me?”

Eddie steps closer, not enough to push your boundaries but still enough for you to notice.  He tugs his lip in between his teeth, pulling at it anxiously while he thinks.  And with his arms still crossed, one finger taps at his elbow in threes.  You follow the action.

One, two, three.  One, two, three.  One, two, three.

“No.”  He says simply, to which your head snaps up.

Cola colored irises are awaiting you, welcoming you in a way.  A softer expression falls over his face, his cherub-like features becoming enhanced.

“I don’t think you’re those things.”  Eddie says confidently.  “I think you’re just right.”

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels

[jqmalikhsgib]

too sweet

six

yn and eddie walk hand and hand out of their now shared penthouse. the paparazzi was waiting outside to get a photo of the couple. since yn has confirmed their engagement online they’ve been getting so much attention.

the couple ignore the cameras and the shouts. they simply just keep their head down. eddie opens the passenger seat for his fiancé as she gets into the vehicle.

eddie walks over to the drivers side. “eddie! when’s the new album coming out?!”

“come on eddie, give us something!”

“eddie, are you and yn pregnant? is that why it’s a rush on your engagement?”

eddie simply shakes his head as he closed the car door and begins slowly driving off.

yn shakes her head and laughs. “people think im pregnant?! am i gaining weight?”

eddie grabs her hand and kisses the back of it. “naw baby. they’re just bored as shit. gotta find some ‘logical’ explanation as to why we’re tying the knot.” eddie rolls his eyes.

“it’s not like im in love with you or something.” yn jokes.

eddie laughs. when they couple get to their destination, eddie helps her out of the car.

he grabs his fiancés hand and walks into the coffee shop where they were meeting with a wedding planner.

“yn? eddie?”

the couple turned and smiled. they walk over to the blonde woman before shaking her hand and sitting down next to her.

“thank you so much for meeting me in the coffee shop. i had a few other clients i had to deal with. you will never believe how many bridezillas i have to deal with.”

“im sorry you have to go through that.”

“it’s the job! i have to say, i was surprised i got a call that both of you wanted to meet with me.”

“oh? why’s that?”

“normally it’s the bride that wants to meet and the groom kinda stays out of wedding planning.”

yn grabs eddie’s hand and squeezes it. “we want to be apart of every decision together. after all it’s a special event for the both of us. we want to share this with one another.”

“it’s very rare, but i love seeing the groom being involved just as much as the bride. now, what kind of wedding are we thinking?

“eddie and i both grew up in a small town in our states. we want something that can represent where we grew up. small town, big cities, county with a hint of city.”

“okay! im seeing a vision. do you have the list of names who are definitely coming?”

“yes! we narrowed our list down to twenty three.”

eddie nods his head in agreement. with yn family being pretty big and eddie’s family being slightly less, they’ve agreed only to let in the people that matter to them most. it’s not like yn or eddie didn’t love the rest of their family, it’s just that they didn’t need too many people around. eddie wasn’t that close to his mom side—or dad side for that matter—he’d only really been close to wayne!

the rest of his family were people he met alone the way. that’s including dustin and steve and the rest of the kids him and steve basically took care of.

“forty six guest! do you have guys know what you want for your dinner reception?”

“we want to try something a little different than the basic chicken or fish meals! we’ve heard some wedding serve soul food! it’ll be great.” eddie states.

“oh! i absolutely love that idea. i can find the best places for more southern style dishes. next up is your color palette. are we thinking winter? summer? fall? spring?”

“we were thinking spring!”

“i can do that. i can get you guys a color palette of some flowers that could match with the theme. may i ask you both an important question? i should have asked earlier.”

“sure!”

“im just asking why the two of you want to rush the wedding?”

“it’s not so much as a rush,”

“we just love each other so much,”

“we want to get married as soon as possible.”

and it was the truth. they truly did love each other so much. yn knew the moment eddie ask to marry her she didn’t wanna wait too long. eddie felt the exact same way.

if they didn’t want their families and friends there, they’d get elope.

“alright! im all for working extremely hard for you. i love your relationship. i can see how you too love each other hard. i only like working for people who love each other hard. i can tell your relationship is gonna last for a lifetime. i look forward with working with you!”

eddie and yn smile as they shake hands once more before leaving.

[wordynerdygurl]

Fair is Fair

Author’s Note:  Hello everyone!  Welp, if you’re like me, you’ve been reading Stranger Things fics like it’s your job... and while I’ve already contributed a couple of stories to this phenomena, what’s one more? Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Full Figured Female Reader Summary:  After a race goes wrong, Eddie comes home and takes it out on you... It’s only fair!

Warnings:  Older (slightly) Mean Eddie, so divergent from show canon.  SMUT, over stimulation, masturbation, and sexy times! ENJOY! --------------------------------------------------------------

“So?”

“So, what?”  It’s that tart reply from your sweet mouth which has Eddie sighing, standing back from the open hood of his ‘71 Oldsmobile convertible, wiping his oily fingers on a rag as he looks your way, “So- are you coming or what?” Ignoring him pointedly, you focus on the glossy magazine pages in front of you, playing with the white stick of your cherry Tootsie pop, canvas sneakers kicking against Eddie’s metal tool box.  You are supposed to be helping him, at least that was the plan, but anytime he asked you for a wrench or to hold the flashlight, you’d peer at him from behind your sunglasses, innocently lying, “I don’t know what that is, baby.  You do it so much better than me.  You know I’m not mechanically inclined.”

And he let you get away with it because, well, you are his girl.  His and his alone.  Sitting pretty in a simple sundress, so clean and neat next to him as he works up a sweat tinkering with the engine, changing the oil, replacing spark plugs.  He watches from the corner of his eye as you lean back in your crappy lawn chair, pushing your chest forward in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth water, wanting desperately to taste your candy coated mouth.  It was all he could do to keep his oil slicked hands to himself. “Babe, please?”  There’s a needy quality to Eddie’s voice, almost pouting, as he begs you to put him out of his misery.  He’s jittery, unable to keep still and all around you the air is charged with his unspent energy.  The hours before a race are always filled with anxious nerves, tonight is no exception.    The radio is on; Top 40 shit, the stuff you like to dance to just to mess with Eddie’s head, merges with the sounds of the trailer park.  A barking dog, a far off argument, honking horns and the nearby highway’s traffic.  None of it was loud enough to drown out his sexually frustrated sigh aimed in your direction as he kicks his tool box shut with the toe of his boot. It’s the perfect time to let your inner brat out to play, when Eddie’s already running hot, and you just can not resist.  Tilting your head, squinting under the dark lenses you’re wearing, “Is Jason gonna be there?  He’s got the prettiest red ca-” An Eddie shaped shadow falls over you, blocking the sunlight and forcing you to cut your sentence short.  Looking up at him with wide surprise in your eyes, blinking naively as he lowers to a crouch, Eddue chides you sincerely, “Don’t.  Can’t tease me, baby.  I need to know if you’re gonna be there, cheering me on.” The tip of his right index finger traces over your forearm.  It’s his cleanest by far and damn, does he want to touch you.  Stain your dress, your skin, the panties that he knows are rubbing places that he wants to feel.  Eddie longs to remind you that you’re his lady and that means something, especially on an important night like this one. You know what he wants to hear, what he needs to hear you say, but you’re feeling brazen, bold even.  So, you double down, denying him.  Licking the tip of your finger, your tongue glistening red as you turn back to your Cosmo, flipping the page and flippantly pouting, “Babe- I don’t even like cars.” His arms flex and you pretend not to notice.  It’s just that the sleeves of his well worn coveralls have long since been cut away, and you would be lying if you didn’t shiver at the sight.  There’s a raw physicality to all of Eddie’s movements. A gracefulness that draws your attention and your body responds with the sharp tightening of your belly, your insides having gone gooey. It’s always fun to tease him, strut around in your cute outfits and make smart comments just to get him riled up.  What Eddie didn’t know was that it takes all your mental strength not to throw yourself at him, quivering and needy in his arms.  See, you’ve been watching him too, your sunglasses a decent disguise, as he bends over the yawning mouth of his car.  Tendons flexing and releasing with every crank of his socket wrench make your mind wander.  Sweat, rolling lazily down his neck, looks like water to quench a thirsty throat and you swallow hard at the unbidden image of licking away all of the moisture dotting Eddie’s brow. Dropping his head, Eddie exhales aggravation as his low, curling ponytail falls forward.  The urge to tug at his silky strands is a tough one to resist but you shift your lollipop from one cheek to the other, pretending like your grease monkey of a boyfriend isn’t giving you pleading eyes in the hopes that you’ll relent and agree to come with him.  Pulling a bandana out of his back pocket, Eddie wipes at his forehead, still eyeing you with a tight smile, “But uh, you like me, don’t ya?” Popping loudly you suck on your cherry pop, peering up at him over the rim of your shades, a satisfied smirk on your pretty lips as you reluctantly agree, “Yea.” “Then tell me you’ll be there!” he groans dramatically, his large hand laying on your warm thigh, careful not to smudge thick grease over your soft skin.  “I want- no… I need you to see me when I win that race, baby.”  He’s nudging at your arm, doing everything but begging for you to agree to come. You pose purposefully, pretending to think it over.  Biting into your bottom lip, gaze never leaving him as you playact at considering whether or not to go to the races tonight when really you’re just taunting him.  It’s a ruse, a facade, because of course you’re going to be there to witness his victory.  You loved the guy after all.  But you hold out a beat longer watching him squirm.  Just when Eddie’s sure you’re going to bail on him, on the race, you nod definitively, “Fine.  Fine!  I’ll come.” Shooting straight to standing, Eddie grabs your hands tugging you along with him.  He’s squeezing you tight to his chest as he spins you around, your feet kicking out at the uncomfortable feeling of being held this way, but when Eddie’s so happy, how could you deny him? “Yes!  Fuckin’ A, sweetheart!  It’s gonna be a great night!” Squealing with delight, you tap at his grimy shoulders, needing to feel the ground at your feet, “Eddie!  You’re disgusting, babe!”  Tapping a light kiss to your nose, he nods, making sure to rub his glistening skin against yours on your way down, “But you love it.  You know you do!” Giggling now, he lowers you to the ground but keeps you in his arms, enjoying having you close.  Who could blame him for pressing his lips to yours, that artificial cherry flavor filling his mouth as the kiss turns hungry, his hands grabbing at your bottom.  The erection he was trying hard to hide could be felt against your hip, forcing Eddie to ask, “Wanna help me, uh, relax?” Any other time you would, no question.  But being a brat wasn’t something that you could switch off so easily.  Punching against his shoulder, you shake your head, “Eddie!  I can’t.” Pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, Eddie sways with you, “Oh, you gotta something better to do, angel?” “As a matter of fact, I do.”  And stepping out of his embrace, you turn to grab your lawn chair and magazine, headed for home without looking back.  His smile falls at your abrupt departure, confusion filling Eddie’s shout at your retreating form, “Babe?  Where ya going?  You uh, you can’t leave me like this!” Over your shoulder you grin at his worried expression, “Gotta go get ready.  Can’t be your trophy and not look like one, right?” “Fuck.  That’s not fair.”  It’s a needy whisper, but you hear it just the same. — The drive home was quiet.  Painfully so.  Eddie was pressing a wad of napkins to his face, still keeping pressure on his bleeding head, eyes closed.  It wasn’t too long before the familiar gravel road of the trailer park could be heard under the tires as you turned into the grassy patch next to his van.  He let you help him out, stretching his legs as he bent backwards, a pain filled grimace sitting on his face.  Trailing behind him, the screen door bouncing shut, you watch Eddie go straight for the fridge and a cold beer.  The blood soaked rags tossed into the stainless steel sink without ceremony.  Silently you tiptoe to the bathroom in search of first aid. Wayne had raised Eddie, for sure, but boys will be boys and you knew there was bound to be some bandages and gauze somewhere.  Digging beneath the sink you finally hit pay dirt, pulling a small white plastic box free, the latch sticking as you struggle to open it.  When it finally pops you exhale happily at the sight of an ice pack, a box of band aids, and tiny tubes of ointment laying inside as if they had been waiting for this exact moment to be useful. Sighing, you push yourself up from the bathroom floor, “What a night.”It had not gone according to plan, that was certain.  Tonight’s race had been a grudge match between Jason Carver and Eddie, and a bloody one at that.  From the way both cars looked when it was all over you were amazed that no one had gotten seriously hurt. But it also meant that Eddie hadn’t won, not outright anyway, and his mood was as sour as you had ever seen.  It had taken four guys to keep him off of Jason, the blond unwilling to shut his damn mouth, jeering Eddie as they both climbed out of the wreckage of once beautiful rides.  No, it had been a truly terrible night and despite the crush of weariness climbing through your bones, you couldn’t put off facing Eddie any longer.  While you had been scavenging for supplies, Eddie had flopped into a kitchen chair, his shirt lost somewhere in the transition.  You can see new bruises ready to pop, purple and livid under his tattooed skin but somehow that adds to his appeal.  Maybe your mind shouldn’t wander this way, but he is so pretty, broken and bleeding in the underlit trailer that you have to remind yourself not to crawl into his lap and kiss him silly.  He’s brooding, you can tell from the angry energy of loss and disappointment swirling around him like the smoke from his cigarette.  Sullen tension fills his tight shoulders making you think he’s hurting worse than he’s willing to admit.  Swallowing thickly, emotional after such a strange night, you want nothing more than to love away all his hurts and make him whole again.  Eddie sees you in the shadows, moving quietly and he can tell that you're staring but doesn’t say anything.  Still nursing at his beer bottle, Eddie keeps his eyes on you as you flitter around the kitchenette, filling a small bowl with cool water, wrapping some ice into a mostly clean towel, trying for stealth and almost succeeding.  Finally, you slide the first aid kit onto the table in front of him, plucking out what you’ll need before facing your man with a small smile, “We gonna do this, or what?” He doesn’t answer in words but Eddie spreads his legs wide enough for you to stand between them, dark eyes boring into yours.  Squeezing at the rag, you raise it to his busted eyebrow, the blood stagnant now.  Tilting your head, you catch his eye, “Ready?” It’s not a nod so much as a cock of his head, as if Eddie’s daring you to do it, but you read it as acquiescence and dab gently at the split skin.  Immediately spitting out curses, Eddie jumps, “Shit!  Fuck!  ‘Hurts!” Steadying him with a gentle hand, you blow across the gash, thinking that he could probably use stitches, cooing, “I know, honey.  But I gotta get it clean.” His hands grab at your wrist, stopping you, and he tips his chin your way.  Dripping sarcasm, Eddie’s tone is mocking all your well intentioned attention, “You gonna take good care of me?” Electricity at his touch shoots through you and your mouth goes dry from the contact.  You attempt to pull back, but he fortifies his hold on you, the rag dropping to the table with a wet thump.  Raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question, he wants you to answer, needs you to talk to him. “I- I’m trying, babe.  I want to-” “Want to what, huh?”  It’s confrontational, bordering on mad, and it’s so unlike Eddie that it takes you by surprise. Licking over your bottom lip, you opt for straight honesty but it doesn’t do much to strengthen your voice.  Whispering out in a rush, you reply, “Want to make you feel good, Eddie.  Feel better.” “You’re gonna make me feel better, huh, sweets?  You should.  It’s your fault I lost tonight.”  Shock registers on your face at his assertion, “What do you mean?” “Didn’t let me fuck you, did you?  And then you turn up dressed like this-” his hand coursed down your side, stopping at the dip of your waist, “-and I had to drive thinking about how good you smell.  How, damn, how soft your skin is-”  His eyes lock onto your own, full of heat, “-Knowing you’d be wet and ready for me at the finish line.” Dark and prickly, Eddie’s voice rubs you raw, your core clenching at the sensation.  It shouldn’t have been so attractive; the domineering tone, the tough grip of his hand, the acid laced way he talked to you.  It shouldn't have been, but it was. “Cat got your tongue, sweet heart?” “Uh, no.  No, I-”  What can you say to him?  Something in your silence pleases him, because Eddie clicks his tongue, lacing his fingers with yours, “I’d say it’s time you make it up to me.  What do you think?” Nodding dumbly, you didn’t verbalize a response, and that wasn’t enough, not tonight, “Uh uh, pretty girl.  I need to hear you.  You said you were gonna make me feel better-” Eddie let his eyes rake over you, stopping at your wide hips, your overflowing breasts, your plush lips before cocking his head to the side, “-and I wanna know exactly what you mean.” It’s dead silent in the trailer.  For the first time since you’ve known Eddie Munson there is no thumping metal music blaring from the back bedroom, no horror movie scream queen bellowing through tinny television speakers.  Even the fan was off, so there was no buffer for the ragged inhale of Eddie’s heavy breath or the small whimpers you couldn’t seem to stop.“Eddie-”  It’s a whine when you want it to sound strong, tough.  “What?”  He goads you, aware of the effect he has on you.  Like you’re his guitar, Eddie plucks your strings, knowing just where to apply pressure and get you to sing. Still sitting, Eddie looked up at you with a bright, challenging glint in his stare.  Never breaking eye contact, his hands fan over your pelvis, fingers plucking open the button of your tight jeans.  Your stomach contracts sharply at the stray touch of his fingers, palm rough against the silk of your skin, Eddie daring to push past the elastic of your panties when you offer no resistance.  You could feel his left hand snaking its way from the small of your back to work your jean skirt down over your hips.  Wordless, Eddie tapped at your thigh, the command clear: get this off.  Bracing yourself with a hold on his shoulders, you start to step out of your bright red heels but then Eddie growls, “Keep the shoes.”A wave of hot desire spikes through you at his gruffly issued order and you agree with a shake of your head, “Ok- ok, honey.” Grabbing the back of your thighs, Eddie jerks you closer, narrowing the gap between your bodies.  Toying with the lacy trim over your bottom, he traced a thumb along the curve of your bum, grunting in a rusty voice, “These panties have a matching bra, don’t they?  Come on, pretty girl, show me.  Wanna see my prize- all of it, yea?” Gulping, you moved to step out of the vee of Eddie’s legs, but the way his ringed fingers dug into the globes of your ass kept you still.  He wasn’t going to give you any leeway so you slowly dragged your thin shirt off, handing it over to Eddie with a sly smile.  Hoping he approved, desperate to please, your voice small but hopeful, “Well?” Eddie surveys your nearly nude figure, now wearing just your frilly underclothes, the deep red color a perfect match for the heels he insisted you wear.  Sucking in an appreciative whistle that sends sparks shooting through your core, he takes one more drag on his ciggie before dropping it down the neck of his nearly empty beer, his stare darkening with lust, “Ok.  Let’s go.”He kicks to standing, sending the kitchen chair into the wall with a thud, and you jump at the sudden noise.  Eddie was quick though, grabbing your arm firmly and spinning you around.  Pinned behind your back, Eddie steers you into the living room, guiding you towards the couch.   Your shoe catches on the rug, tripping you up, but Eddie rights you, rasping roughly, “Careful, pretty girl.  Don’t want you to bruise those knees- yet.” Drawing in a shaky breath, you tried to face him but Eddie wouldn't allow it.  Truthfully, he likes watching the way your thick ass moves under the transparent lace of your drawers as you stumble to try and match his heavy steps, all while tottering in your high heels.  He may not have won the race tonight, may have crashed and burned in actuality, but he was absolutely certain that you were still his trophy.  You had no idea what Eddie had planned but you couldn’t deny that his rougher treatment was making you ache in the places only he was allowed to touch.  Every step made your hardening nipples itch against the textured lace of your bra cups.  Each footfall forces you to clench your thighs together, making you strut in a stilted shuffle, afraid that your excitement would be evident. Eddie can sense your growing need, because he stopped short, pulling you tight to his chest just to feel you.  His hands, they are all over you now.  One cups the damp warmth of your mound, your body bucking into his palm, crying for his touch.  The other wraps under your chin, turning your head for a sloppy, slick kiss.  Groaning into your mouth, Eddie teases at your slit through the fabric of your panties, “So wet, pretty baby.  So goddamned eager for me, aren’t ya?” Shaking your head, you mewl weakly, “Uh huh, just for you.” “Better be.”  The gruff edge was back, forcing you to your knees in the middle of the living room, the ancient shag carpet not offering enough cushioning.  He let you kneel there, stomping around you, before lowering himself onto the couch.  Making a show of undoing his belt and unzipping his fly, Eddie wants you to watch as he gingerly frees his rigid cock, already so hard and dripping.  Stroking himself slowly, seeing the way your eyes track every movement, Eddie grins, “Like what you see, sweetheart?  Wanna taste?” Licking over your bottom lip, you scoot into the space between Eddie’s spread knees, agreeing with a nod of your head.  Reaching out a hand, stroking over your cheekbone before lifting your chin, Eddie traces his thumb across your mouth, “Pretty, pretty baby.  Open up for me, yea?” Compliant, you did as he asked, but you couldn’t contain the moan as you held still, waiting for the green light from Eddie.  For a second he thought about denying you both the pleasure of a filthy blow job.  Maybe he’d just jerk himself off, forcing you to watch and wait until he came in your open mouth.  The idea made his blood surge, strengthening his erection. But then you whimpered.  A small, sad, wanting sound that gave Eddie goosebumps and he realizes that you wouldn’t be satisfied, not like that, anyway.  And he couldn’t be that mean to you, his best girl.  No, you need to taste him, feel the dense, hot weight of him inside of you, and nothing else would do.  Man, he really was too kind.  Carding a hand through your hair, Eddie lowered your head to his waiting tip, “Alright, sweet thing.  Show me how sorry you are.” Wasting no time once Eddie gave the word, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, licking over his coral hued head as you sigh at the salty flavor.  Circling him with your tongue, just like you did with your cherry pop that morning, you sucked gently at the sensitive skin.  The broken moan he emits is a sign that you’re doing a good job.  “Fuck!  God damn, you’re good at this!”  He grits out through clenched teeth, a hand tangled in your tresses more to ground Eddie than to control you. The praise makes you proud, cocky even, and you inhale quickly before sliding down the entirety of his impossible length.  Burying your nose in the wiry hairs at his root, you hollow your cheeks, earning a grunt from the man above you.  Swallowing, your throat constricts against him, pulling another ragged curse from Eddie’s parted lips. “You’re taking me so well, honey.  I can’t- shit!  Stop.  Stop!”  With a wet pop the suction you’ve generated breaks at Eddie’s insistence. Sitting back, disappointment flooding your features, you practically wail, “Eddie, I wasn’t done-” “I know.  I know.  I almost was-” pulling you into his lap, Eddie nuzzles into your neck, “-and I wanna cum deep inside your tight pussy, baby.  It’s only fair, don’t you think?” “Yes, I- It’s only fair.”  It’s easier to agree since you can’t really help yourself.  Eddie has all the power here, over you, your body, your pleasure.  He understands implicitly that the words he says and how he says them, coarse but also somehow sweet, drives you wild.  Unhooking your bra, Eddie palms your newly freed breasts, dipping his head down to take one nipple between his lips.  The painful pressure draws a ragged sigh from you as you tip your head back in enjoyment.  Grazing the pebbled bud with his teeth, you rock into him at the new stinging sensation, “Shit!” Chuckling darkly, Eddie does it again before switching his attention to the other side, leaving hot kisses and purpling bruises along your chest as he goes.  He carries his fevered frenzy higher, marking a line along your collarbone, stopping to sink his teeth into the muscle there.  When you hiss at the pinching pain, Eddie lets go, licking over the marks he’s leaving behind. Beneath you the presence of his iron rod is hard to ignore.  You can feel him, red hot and throbbing, through the webbing of your undies and overcome with desperation, you grind against him shamelessly.  Begging now, your tone whiny, “Please, Eddie, please!  Let me show you how bad I feel.” “Aw, my poor baby.  You want me to fill you up, huh?  Give you this hard cock?”  His tone is patronizing.  It sounds sweet, kind even, but there’s enough of Eddie’s jagged edge baked into his taunts that it makes you wonder.  Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod, doe-eyed with false innocence, “Yes.  Please, baby?” Eddie, wasting no time, tears your panties off you leaving you bare and dripping.  Directing you, he props you up against the back of the couch, legs spread lewdly but he adores the view, “Touch yourself, honey.” Confused, you start to move, arguing but Eddie stills you with a firm hand on your chest, “I told you.  Touch yourself.” Huffing, you sit back, hands parting the petals of your pussy.  Happily, Eddie hums, “There ya go.  Good girl, listening so well.” Dropping into the gathering damp between your folds, you spread the slippery slick, rubbing in smooth circles over your firm clit.  Your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the way Eddie is watching you, directing your movements.  When you sink a lone finger into your tight channel, almost ready to release, he tuts, “Ready to cum?  So fast, too.” “Can I?”  It’s a breathless question, but your need is climbing fast and you don’t want to disappoint the wide-eyed man standing in front of you. Flashing his impish smirk, Eddie plays at misunderstanding, “Can you what, baby?” Cheeks flaming hot, you ask for his blessing in a tight sigh, “Can I cum?  Please?” And Eddie lets you hang there, still stroking yourself, muscles tightening in preparation for your pleasure.  He makes a show out of considering your situation, a long finger stroking over his chin in contemplation, a thoughtful shake of his head.  Your thighs quiver and your quim quakes as you struggle to stave off the inevitable. Taking pity on you, Eddie resolutely steps between your folded knees, “I’ll give you the first one, but-” his rings score the skin of your calves, “-the rest of your orgasms are mine.  Got it?” You would agree to anything, anything at all, if it meant that your body could let go of its building pressure.  Tumbling out of you in clips and phrases, you acquiesce, “Yes.  Yes.  Thank you, baby.  Thank you-” and a rolling wave of ecstasy crashes through you, fuzzing your vision and draining your strength. Chuckling, Eddie’s fingers replace your own, the aftershocks of your peak making you shudder.  Panting, your chest rises and falls rapidly, a dopey smile on your face.  You reach for Eddie, ready for cuddling and kisses, only to be denied. “My turn.” Draping your hip over his, spreading you wide, Eddie angles his aching dick toward your puffy pussy.  Still loose-limbed, you wrap your arms around his neck weakly, stuttering at the aggressive push that buries his hard length inside you.  The couch swallows you, pillows molding around you as Eddie fucks you into the foam cushions in quick, driving thrusts. When he isn’t pummeling your mouth with his talented tongue, Eddie is sucking purple welts and red bruises onto the skin of your neck and chest or, he’s whispering filthy thoughts in your ear: “You're taking me so well, baby.  So good.” “God damn, you’re so wet, gonna suck me dry, aren’t ya?” “Oh, you like that, huh?” In your own delirious state, sex drunk, you claw into Eddie’s back, “I’m gonna cum, Eddie.  Again.  Oh god!”  Wailing, you feel tears roll down your cheeks as your body goes limp beneath him. “Yea?  That’s ok, sweets.  That makes two, baby.  Only three more to go.”  He says through a clenched jaw, his own seminal release threatening to burst. Unsure if you heard him right, you risk a question, “Thr- three more?  What are you talking about?”  “One for every hundred dollars I lost tonight.  It was a five hundred dollar stake, so, you’re gonna give me five orgasms.  Fair is fair, princess.” Eddie is true to his word.  He’s taken you on your hands and knees, insides shivering from the overstimulation, your ecstasy arriving in a howl as Eddie plied you full of his spend, the excess running down your parted thighs.  You’ve been cradled to his chest, hips rising and falling to a rhythm all Eddie’s own, his ringed hands driving you down his shaft over and over and over, the orgasm washing over you in concentric waves as you fell apart chanting Eddie’s name in weakening whines. And now, now you’re on your back, the water stained ceiling tiles of the trailer blurring together as Eddie hums against your abused flesh, “One more time, baby.  One more.” Shaking your head, you argue softly, “Can’t.  Eddie, I-” Brushing wild curls away from his face, Eddie frowns down at you, “You can and you will, baby.  For me, right?  You said so yourself, it’s only fair.” But who can remember what you promised hours ago?  Before your muscles were rubbery from overuse and when your vocal chords hadn’t yet been fried from continued moaning.  What had you agreed to?  As he lowers his lips to your parted folds, wide tongue lapping at your seeping center, your head snaps back, fingers tugging at Eddie’s hair.  His nose grazes your clit and you stutter helplessly, “Oh, please!” Feeling the smirk on Eddie’s face, you can tell he’s enjoying your delirious pleasure in the way he presses deeper into you, virtually fucking his tongue between your folds.  His arms are wrapped tightly around your thighs, holding you open to his oral assault, forcing you to experience bliss made real by his pillowy lips and textured tongue.  Every time you try to break away, pushing against his hard skull, his grip tightens until you sag beneath him, too wiped out to resist. When Eddie sucks your slick clit into his mouth, you tense up, nervously calling his name into the quiet room.  Sucking harshly, he draws on the tender, overworked bud, and you croak against him, “Too much!  It’s too much!  Gotta- gotta stop, Eddie… Oh God-”

The world rolls over black and your ears fill with fuzz.  Fragmenting, you break apart, like a glass shattering on the hard floor.  Toes curl upward and your hands tense up with Eddie’s hair still in their grip.  La Petite Mort indeed. Through the hazy fog you can hear Eddie’s voice, worry filled and anxious, saying your name.  Eyes shut, you draw in a ragged breath, his name on your lips, “Ed- Eddie?” “I’m here, babe.  I got you!”  You can feel gentle kisses land on your cheeks, your forehead, your nose.  Eddie’s curling his hand around yours, brushing hair from your face as he pleads, “Open your eyes, doll?  For me?  Please-” And it takes you a little longer than normal because every single molecule of your person has collapsed into an ecstasy fueled hibernation, but you manage to blink his way, a small smile on your face, “Hi.” Gathering you to him, Eddie pulls you close, his mouth against yours in a deep, soul stealing kiss.  Holding your frame in his arms, eyes still full of concern, Eddie searches your face for reassurance that he hadn’t gone too far, “Are you ok?  Thought I lost you for a minute there.” Shifting against him, you exhale deeply, “You did.  I dunno what to call that, but-” now your smile widened, “-I think I saw God.” Eddie’s laugh, rumbling through you both, unsettles you and you wince at the contact with your overwrought core.  So gently, he moves you to the couch, “Stay here, lemme get you something to drink.” After clanking around in the kitchen, he returns with aspirin and water, the blanket from his bed and a nightgown from your drawer in his dresser.  When you’re sufficiently clothed and comfortable, Eddie joins you on the sofa, laying behind you so he can, “Be your pillow!” The television goes on, something silly, and Eddie just allows you to rest, his fingers playing with your hair idly.  As you sit together, sleep stealing closer, you snuggle under his arm, “Hmm, I can’t wait to get your back.” “What’s that?” Fluttering your lashes his way, you lick over your bottom lip smiling at Eddie, “I think you owe me a couple of orgasms next time.  Say, four?  It’s only fair, right babe?” Jolting forward, Eddie starts, “What did you say?” Yawning now, you burrow under your blanket, pulling Eddie’s arm around you, “Next time you cum four times.  Maybe you can have an out of body experience.” Snorting at you, your brassiness, your brattiness, you balls, Eddie nods his head, “Yea.  Ok, fine.  I guess that’s fair.” — FIN —

@thatsonezesty13 @sxlly-pxbble @tisfuihi @kerri-leighjade @carleighsworld @mediocreaf @weird-stranger13 @cupiden @meh-darkness @sereisstuff @elviqs @hevanleigh @ethereal-day-dreamer @bluedreamsofhoneyrevenge @armyangxls @alana-stewart @peachkiosk @riddlerstoepics​ @lonely-af-fangirl​ @darkhairedmenrule​ @b1tchbabytears​ @punishers-girl​ @ravencrap-hufflefuck​ @sapphic-assassin @rosegoldarti​ @shiggay @boeutiful​ @york-peppermint-patty​ @atlwhatevs​ @probablynotmadonna @mermaidsandcats29​ @tarazia @aereth​ @maymaypes @drfrank211​

[lostinheavensworld]

leaving.

Eddie Munson x college!reader

this is extremely self indulgent, I started writing this to comfort myself instead of packing, and I just finished it after getting all moved in. this is my first time writing on here, please be nice!

You were leaving.

Tomorrow morning, your car would be packed full of all your most important belongings, and you wouldn’t be back for months.

Yet, your boyfriend seemed determined to avoid talking about any of that.

Instead, he was intently describing his newest campaign, designed for the kids he’s taken under his wing. He’s left high school, but not them. Their club meets weekly, and you know they’ll be the best hope of keeping Eddie sane while you’re gone.

But who will keep you sane?

Leaving all your loved ones behind… you’ve been spiraling this past week. You’ve hugged countless friends, family, and even coworkers goodbye. It’s been fucking with you more than you’re letting on. After all, it is your second year doing this. You're supposed to be used to it by now.

Your first year, you called Eddie about a hundred times the first week alone, using his voice to calm your nerves as you were constantly forced into new environments. by the second semester, things were easier, Eddie visited you more and you finally began to feel comfortable where you were… until summer break started.

Thrown back into your hometown, you go to a party the first week back and you get reminded why you were so quick to get out of this place. but… it's where everyone you’ve ever known is. It's your home. Eventually, you fell into a familiar rhythm. You spent time with Eddie nearly every day, just happy to finally see each other again.

You two were finally content with life, both living in a serene bubble ignoring the deadline awaiting you in August; but now the day has come.

You asked Eddie to come over to help you pack, but he was so absorbed in brainstorming that he wasn’t much help. That’s alright, you just wanted the company. but…

“Eds,” you call softly.

“Then I’ll- yea?” he pauses, dropping his notebook into his lap.

"Aren't you gonna help me pack..?"

"...Oh. Uh, yeah," he jumps up and moves to start folding your clothes, falling silent and wearing an expression you can't quite read. You don't push it, since you need to get this shit packed before you sleep tonight.

You both work quietly, nearly finished packing before Eddie suddenly stops and wraps his arms around your waist instead. You try to keep packing, but this limited range of motion is not working out for you as you hoped.

"Babe, I can't move," you laugh slightly, attempting to push his arms down, meeting a surprising resistance. This causes you to stop your actions and twist around in his arms instead. "Eddie?"

He doesn't respond at first, burying his head in your shoulder instead and holding you tighter. "I'm not ready for you to go..."

Now it's your turn to stand quietly, wrapping your arms around him as you sway slightly. Your head falls against his shoulder as you absorb the comfort, trying to not get absorbed in your sadness. You know if you wallow in the moment you'll start crying and second guessing every decision that has led you here. You couldn't afford to sit in these feelings, pushing your boyfriend back so you can see his face again. "I'm not ready to have to be hours away from you either, but you know I need to go, right?"

"Last semester wasn't even that fun for you, wouldn't it be better to stay here?"

"In Hawkins?" you laughed, "no, it would not be better for me to stay here. C'mon, you know staying here much longer would make me more miserable than going back there... plus, this year will be different. You're gonna come up more, remember? I already talked it over with my new roommate."

"Yeah, I know," he groaned, resting his forehead against your own, "I just wish things could be different."

"Me too, but... abstinence makes the heart grow stronger," you grin at him, "I bet you were getting sick of me wrapped around you every night," even before you finish the sentence, his face is screwing up in horror,

"You know that was a lie. You couldn't even say that with a straight face. If I could have you by my side every night, I would. I wouldn't trade any moment with you for anything else in the world."

You smile at his words, pulling him into a gentle kiss. "sap," you whisper, kissing him again before he can protest. You honestly would rather stay in this moment forever, but you know this conversation is important. "You'll be visiting a month from today. Time will fly by my love. I'll see you so, so soon."

He hums in agreement, tugging you back to packing, now moving quickly to finish up.

"Woah, what just changed? Am I that convincing?" you tease.

"No, I'd just rather keep kissing you on your bed but all this shit is in the way, so it's in my best interest to get this done," he gives you a grin. Within a few minutes, he's zipping up your suitcase and (gently) chucking it onto the ground, before grabbing you and moving you both onto the bed. "...much better."

[leeloooonfire]

A wedding and a falling in love - a ff idea

when Steve and Eddie are finally (legally) allowed to marry, they do it. Not only because Steve is a huge romantic and Eddie would let a horde of demon bats eat him alive if that’s what brings Steve happiness, but because out of spite. To anger all those hateful, disgusting homophobes who went out into the streets to protest against their love. It’s not only for them, but for all the queer kids who don’t have anyone to look up to; who need queer people out of their prime to see that happiness comes and lasts! So, of fucking course they get married.

they plan a beautiful summer wedding under the night sky and fairy lights with all the people they love and who love them in return - Steve’s dream.

There’s even supposed to be a funky lil medieval folk band to play ballads for them - Eddie’s dream.

of course, Robin will be Steve’s maid of honour, Erica Sinclair for Eddie (somehow that’s a friendship everyone expected and no one thought would last) and obviously, Dustin for both of them. (Not necessarily because they think he’ll do it well, but because even at the age of 44 Dustin is a noisy little prick who cannot take a no for an answer.)

so, he, Robin and Erica are going to tackle the responsibility of Steddie’s beautiful summer wedding together.

and here is the thing: we already have the Steve and Eddie love story, and with all its imperfections, it’s true love. It’s honest and hard, sometimes Steve thinks he loses all his hair because Eddie is a maniac and Eddie sometimes wishes for a gateway to hell to open underneath Steve’s feet, but it’s real and so, sooooo good!

what we don’t have, however, is another love story.

one that no one really saw coming.

Robin is busy - not only with Steve and the wedding, but with her love of her life and the little nugget growing inside of her wife, so… Erica and Dustin do most of the planning and the best man/maid of honour shit.

it’s not like these two have much more time than Robin. Erica is one of the best lawyers in the U.S., a hard working woman of the law who fights for those who need her the most.

Dustin, working as an independent astrophysicist, lives and works on the road. It’s Singapore yesterday, Melbourne today and Seoul tomorrow. The man cannot and will not sit still.

but somehow, they make it work - Erica in New York and Dustin in Tokyo, they somehow plan, and plan, and take meetings after meetings to fulfill every last dream of Eddie and Steve and their perfect little summer wedding.

the thing is… Erica and Dustin know each other for all their lives. They’ve been friends since starcourt and even after Dustin left the country to study in London for a bit, they stayed in contact. Just.. random phone calls here and there, email when it started to become a thing and then, eventually, the bi-yearly drunken Skype call when they were in remotely the same time zone.

It’s not like they meet for the first time, but somehow there online meetings to plan Steddie’s wedding get longer and the topics deviate from the cake, the clothes, the band, the seating arrangements etc…

it’s more about… law and dnd and strange objects from outer space and how moon dust is actually more like shards and the moment Erica lost one extremely important case.

and maybe there has been this strange moment filled with electricity and connection between them after Max and Lukas’ wedding in 1997, where they shared a dance while Dustins date and America’s almost-husband stood by the bar and fell in love with each other. A moment both of them never wanted to acknowledge because Erica needs no man, and Dustin cannot fall in love with his best friends little sister, no matter how fierce and stunning and amazing she is.

but now, in 2015…. They’re are adults in their fourties’ and their best friends are finally allowed to marry and the connection, the electricity is still there, even though there are more than 6700 miles and the Pacific Ocean between them.

and it’s just happens - them falling in love.

[atmilliways]

Dreams In Which I'm Dying (3)

part 3 of 16 | 856 words | Teen +

Donnie Darko AU | parts 1 & 2 | parts 4 & 5 | parts 6 & 7 | part 8 | part 9 | parts 10 & 11 | parts 12 & 13 | part 14 | parts 15 & 16 (complete) | read on Ao3

Summary:

Eddie Munson is tired. On his way back to the trailer park last night some alarm on his watch had gone off—BEEEEP! . . . BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!—and scared the crap out of him. It had been hard to fall asleep after that.

3 - Tired

Eddie Munson is tired. On his way back to the trailer park last night some alarm on his watch had gone off—BEEEEP! . . . BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!—and scared the crap out of him. It had been hard to fall asleep after that.

Whatever nightmares he drags himself out of on Saturday morning are fucking awful. Maybe it's for the best that he’s forgotten them already.

By the time he emerges from his bedroom Wayne is long gone to work, and something about the empty trailer gives him the creeps. His head aches too much from lack of rest to blast music, so instead he hops in his van and just . . . drives, aimless, the radio cranked down to what most would call normal volume until he gets caught in a traffic snarl out near the old Benny’s Burgers.

Hawkins doesn’t have traffic, usually. Disconcerted, he u-turns and heads into town, snags more cigarettes at the gas station before pulling up in front of the arcade.

He doesn’t have enough pocket change left to make the arcade worth it. Maybe enough to rent a movie though, he thinks as he eyes the Family Video next door. Something to drown out the oppressive silence back at the trailer. . . . That should work. 

The bell over the door chimes as he makes his way inside, no time to take in his surroundings before—

“Munson?”

Eddie jumps about a foot in the air with a yelp, flailing around to glare at Steve fucking Harrington in a green Family Video vest. It somehow matches his eyes. (Eddie had always thought were brown, but upon inspection that he never expected to get close enough to make, they're hazel.) “Jesus H. Christ, you have got to stop doing that!”

Great. A stupid attraction was so much easier to ignore when the subject stayed in a completely different orbit. But now, thanks to Satellite Dustin sweeping in and swinging shit out of alignment, this is happening. These are his first direct words to an attractive, athletic guy with a great smile and a greater ass, who Eddie has definitely rubbed one out to before. (He hasn’t kept count, he’s not an animal.)

Steve blinks at him, having the gall to look like he has no idea what Eddie’s talking about. “Riiight, I’ll get right on that. Anyway—” he claps his hands with the abrupt subject change, rubbing them together for good measure “—can I talk to you about something, man?”

“Uh.” This is a pretty benign conversation starter for someone who always seemed more likely to trip him in the school hallways and laugh. Eddie glances around Steve, still trying to decide between Fantasy and the Science Fiction. (Horror is a no go in his current post-nightmare mood.) “If you must.”

“It’s about Sinclair.”

His attention snaps back to Steve like a snapped rubber band. “If this is about luring a child into the dastardly clutches of a fantasy game cult, Harrington, you’re better off leaving that to the PTA moms. Besides, Erica can hold her own against the assembled forces of Satan.”

The wry smirk he gets in response is not what Eddie was expecting. “Yeah, I know,” Steve says, hands falling onto his own hips—and the thing is, it sounds like he does know. “I meant Lucas, actually. Dustin filled me in on the schedule conflict last night.”

Eddie doesn’t have the patience for this. He shoulders past Steve to head into the shelves. “Let me guess. Something something, championship game that was only announced the night before is more important than a final campaign session scheduled weeks in advance?”

“It’s not about scheduling,” Steve says, following. “You know that Lucas came off the bench and made the winning shot, right?”

“Don’t know how I could, considering I wasn’t there,” Eddie replies flatly as he pretends to browse. Pretends that proximity to Steve Harrington isn’t making him sweat.

“Yeah, well. All I’m saying is, next time could you maybe not make the shitheads choose between their favorite pastime and their best friend? It would’ve meant a lot to Lucas if they could’ve seen him do that.”

It’s so earnest, the way he says it, that Eddie almost forgets it’s not that simple. Between Jeff’s family dinners, Gareth’s insistence on actually studying, Grant’s curfew, Dustin’s frequent orthodontist appointments, and Mike’s Spring Break flight to California, it had been like herding cats to get dates and times that worked for everybody all semester.

“And all I’m saying,” Eddie shoots back, remarkably level, “is that Lucas didn’t even bother to tell me about his sudden schedule conflict in person, he made his best friends do it. Sorry man, he got what he got.”

This would be the perfect time to select his tape, shoulder past Steve, and saunter cooly up to the desk to check out.

It would be. Instead, the front door bursts open and startles Eddie into fumbling the tape he’s pulling from the shelf.

“Steve, Robin, we have a code red!” shrieks Dustin Henderson, sweeping in like a hurricane and trailing some red-headed girl Eddie didn’t know in his wake. “I repeat, code red!”

[munsontm]

IMPORTANT PORTRAYAL HEADCANON:   EDDIE MUNSON  &  DUSTIN HENDERSON.

I haven’t done one of these in a while, and it will be available on my pinned post with all the other important hcs to my particular portrayal.

Eddie develops lots of new potential friendships over the cours of S4. But no relationship is as important as his relationship with Dustin Henderson. (apart from Wayne, of course)

First of all, they come from similar single parent households, where both fathers have left for whatever reason, and i suspect that perhaps Dustin’s dad wasn’t so great either. I really think this is a huge part of what ignites the bond between them. They see each other as the big brother and the little brother dynamic. Which is convenient since Eddie had always wanted a younger sibling, and given how Dustin eventually latched on to Steve, the same can probably be said vice-versa. The two of them form a brotherhood that’s as strong as any blood bond because they understand what it’s like to be missing part of your family. They fill a certain void in each other that is needy to expand on the small families that they have. They look out for one another like brother’s do as evident when Dustin immediately shows concern for Eddie multiple times when he is accused of murder, and is the only person we see that 100% believes Eddie is entirely innocent. Eddie stops Dustin from falling in the lake, and then later on---you know, dies protecting him. Making the ultimate big brother sacrifice.

Dustin is also the only person to see every single side of Eddie, which shows just how comfortable he is with Dustin, they’re literally like family. He’s seen performer Eddie, both in the canteen, and likely as a frontman due to his belief in Eddie’s music being a good choice to distract the bats. He’s seen scared Eddie, neurotic Eddie, dork Eddie. But most of all, and most importantly. Dustin saw the most vulnerable and loving part of Eddie during Eddie’s death when Eddie proclaimed his love for Dustin. No one else was privy to Eddie’s emotions in the entire season other than how shit scared he was. He literally cried and told Dustin he loved him, and used his last words to tell Dustin how much he believed in him. If that’s not true platonic love, then I don’t know what is.

They’ve shared many battles together in D&D, and talked at length about LOTR, laughed, played together; as demonstrated when everyone is making weapons. They are the epitome of brothers. It’s not like Dustin and Steve, where Steve had been teaching Dustin to be more confident, but also be more like Steve...which isn’t even working out for Steve. Eddie tells Dustin to be himself (which is also aother example of Eddie letting Dustin see his gentler self), which is also what Steve needs to hear tbh. Because who Dustin is is already absolutely fine. He doesn’t need to be popular and a lady killer because ultimately high school does not matter in the grand scheme of things. There’s an extraordinary naturalness to their relationship which I don’t think Dustin has with Steve. What Dustin has with Steve had to build up. But I don’t get that sense with Dustin and Eddie. They feed off each other’s nerdy energy and being a know it all lmao.

Furthermore, I think that Eddie sees a lot of himself in Dustin. Obviously, there’s the similar family situation and their shared nerdiness. And while I don’t think Eddie quite holds the level of intelligence that Dustin has, he is also on a constant curiosity voyage---perhaps a more reckless one, though the two of them are great at getting themselves into trouble. And the way Dustin reacts to the police questioning him after the lake. Stupendous, amazing, full on Eddie energy. It’s the same with Ted Wheeler too! Both Eddie and Dustin shrug off authority figures because that usually means bad news for them for differing reasons. I’m js they’re both great at getting into trouble for sticking their noses in where they shouldn’t. I can’t imagine the things they could get up to if left alone too long!

In conclusion, while i enjoy Eddie’s other relationships. His one with Dustin is extremely important and often gets overlooked for Steddie and Hellcheer. He ‘died’ for that kid and clearly thought of him as his little brother to the point where he was jealous of Steve for being the other big brother. There is so much to them that the Duffer’s have left untouched, and it’s extremely annoying.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Evan Buckley / Waiting

Series: Neighbors (Evan Buckley x Reader)

Summary: After the fire engine crushed his leg, Buck was left waiting -- but he didn't know what he was waiting for -- turns out it was you (imagine being buck's neighbor).

Word Count: 1,373

Warnings: just cute fluff, spoilers for the season 2 finale, mild spoilers for 'buck begins' (04x05),

Waiting.

That was one thing Buck was never good at.

He couldn’t wait for his parents to love him — he had to get hurt to get their attention. He couldn’t wait for Maddie to leave Doug — he had to find himself on his own (admittedly with some help from the jeep). He couldn’t wait for Abby to get back from finding herself — he had to leave his first love behind.

And he couldn’t wait for his bone to heal — he couldn’t leave the most important thing he’d ever done in his life.

Maddie didn’t get it — and he grits his teeth, but why would she? She was the one who always did the leaving, wasn’t she?

Not like him, he rolled over on his side gingerly. he couldn’t get left behind.

Not again.

But this was a waiting game now because his surgery was scheduled a few days out — but he could wait a few days. His fingers drummed against his couch, but not much longer.

Eddie and Chris had been over yesterday, but everyone was at work now — saving lives, and he was stuck here to his couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the itch in his cast and the sticky heat of his apartment.

It had been a while since he had felt like the world was passing him by, and right now, it really did. Out of his window, he could see it go — people walking the streets, his team shooting him messages in between their calls, Maddie checking up on him during her breaks — and he was here.

He was always here.

Hell, he was even stuck on the first floor — an eternal roommate in his own place. And he wondered, as he glanced towards the window again, when would he would stop feeling like a bystander in his own life?

CRASH.

And he sits up, frowning.

It takes more than a moment for Buck to get to his feet, grabbing crutches to help him along to the door, scowling at the walking aides — something that had been as easy as breathing, now as difficult as scaling entire buildings.

And that ease had been taken from him.

He opened his door, peering outside — but on the other hand, at least he had an apartment to come home to.

He frowns at the sight before him — several boxes piled up along the length of the hallway — are those boxes blocking the elevator — and then his gaze snaps back to you — your back pressed to the wall beside the door across the hall. But you pay him no mind — only typing furiously on your phone, sweat glinting off your furrowed brow, your lips twisted in a frown.

“Hey,” and your head snaps up, a glare in your eyes that nearly makes him recoil, until your gaze softens, eyes flickering from his cast back to his face, “you okay?”

You shake your head, offering a weak smile, “I feel like I should be asking you that,” and he flinches, “shit sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Well, I’m doing as well as you could expect,” he sighs, making his way out of the doorway, and sees boxes lining the hall, blinking twice, “moving in or moving out?”

“Moving in, and it wasn’t supposed to be into the hallway,” you rest your head against the wall, “the landlord is going to be another hour or more, unless there’s L.A. traffic on the freeway of course, because who has ever heard of that?” you groan, before your eyes fall back to him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to complain to a complete stranger.”

“Well, I’d say we’re more neighbors than strangers at this point,” and he smiles at you, as you chuckle, giving him the first real smile from you he’s seen — “do you want to come in?” and you hesitate, “I mean we can keep the door open,” and he feels his cheeks burn as you raise your eyebrows, “so you can keep an eye on your stuff, I wasn’t—”

You laugh, “You’re sweet,” and he hopes you don’t notice the red burning at his neck, “if you don’t mind?”

“Not like I have big plans today,” he shrugs, jerking his head for you to follow him inside, “plus it would be nice to have some company.”

And his heart squeezes as he glances back at you — especially if it's you.

~~~

“You stole a firetruck to hook up?” you shake your head, leaning back against the chair you sat in, “I hope it must have been a special occasion to warrant a felony?”

“If you count a desperate need to hook up with a woman I met on a call special,” he offers a weak smile while you shake your head, mouthing ‘no.’ He laughs, sipping at his coffee, “I’ve changed a lot since then, and it’s because of my job, because of the team,” and his face drops, sighing, “and I don’t know if I’m gonna get that back now.”

You frown, your eyes drifting to his leg, “If you don’t mind me asking, how bad—”

“It’s going to take some time to heal, longer than expected,” he’s shaking his head, “I want to get a surgery to speed up my recovery, in fact, I’m planning on it,”

“But?” and he slumps in his chair.

“My sister thinks I should just wait to see if it heals, but I don’t know,” he leans forward, “you see, this job — it’s given me everything — my friends, family, purpose. If this surgery can get me back there faster, then why wouldn’t I do it?”

“I can’t say I know what that’s like,” you purse your lips, “but Buck, it’s your decision to make at the end of the day. The only thing I know is that life is far too short to make your decisions based on what someone else wants. If your doctor says it’s safe, if you think it’s safe, and then you have to weigh the benefits of getting the surgery versus not,” and then you shake your head, “sorry that is probably the most wishy-washy answer you’ve gotten.”

“No, no, actually,” he blinks at you, before his lips form a half-smile, “do you know you’re the first person who hasn’t told me what to do?”

You snort, “Your friends sound nice, but a little bossy, huh?”

He laughs at that, a noise from his chest that makes your heart flutter, “A little, but like you said, their hearts are in the right place,” he shrugs, before he frowns, “I’m sorry, I feel like I’m talking a lot.”

“Don’t apologize,” you wave him off, “I like listening to you,”

“You do?” and you tilt your head.

“You seem surprised,”

“No, no, I just—” he shrugs, “It usually takes a bit for people to get me I guess,”

“Well, I think I got you the moment you invited me into your apartment,” and he furrows his brow, “you’re sweet.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say that about me,”

“Oh, how do people usually describe you?”

“Reckless, headstrong, stubborn,” and then he lifts his gaze to meet yours, mischievous, “charming, handsome.”

It’s your turn to laugh, before you nod, sipping at your drink, eyes not leaving his, “I can buy that,”

Oh, now can you?

“Well—” he leans forward, but then your phone buzzes, and you tear your eyes away from him, "the landlord's finally here."

"Finally," he gives a weak smile, and he tucks his disappointment away, "well good luck moving in. I'd help but—" his eyes flicker down from his cast and then back up.

"Well you could help?" And he tilts his head, "keep me company?"

He laughs a little, "You spent three hours talking with me and you're not sick of me yet?"

"Well you are charming after all," you throw a smile over your shoulder, as you head towards the door, "you coming?"

And he smiles, and as he rises, adjusting his crutches under his arms, he couldn't help but think he wouldn't mind waiting — if it was always with you.

"I'm coming."

[hopeintheashes]

With inspiration from a pumpkin-carving-incident anon ask for the fall prompts, just… softer. <3

If anyone wants to send more soft fall prompts, they’re open for a few more days!

Read it here or on AO3.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Eddie's head snaps up from where he's helping Christopher carve the details of his pumpkin's jagged smile. And then, with this ever-so-slight shift into work mode: "Oh."

"You're bleeding," Chris says, which, yes, is in fact the problem here.

If you'd asked him, he would've said that he was fine with blood. And it would've been true, as long as that blood was someone else's.

Well.

(Eddie's blood on his lips. Sharp like copper on his tongue.)

Almost anyone else's.

But yeah. Still not great with his own.

"Buck."

"Knife slipped," he says, and his voice sounds far away.

The dishtowel on the table has pumpkin on it. Eddie grabs it anyway, folding it over to get a clean edge, and wraps up his hand, pressing tight against the cut on his palm. Nudging Buck to actually sit down and then lifting his hand over his head.

"Is it bad?" Chris asks, wide-eyed, and the world rocks like a ship at sea.

"I don't think so," Eddie says, and things steady a little. "I'll take a look in a minute. Maybe hold off on the carving for a second?"

Chris, eyes still wide, very carefully puts down his knife.

"I'm okay," Buck says to Chris, and it's supposed to be reassuring, but it comes out breathy and wavering. The world sways again, and he can feel the way all the color has drained from his cheeks.

"Shit," Eddie mutters, glancing between Buck and the table and the floor like he's trying to make a decision. "Okay, c'mere."

"You're strong," he thinks he says; must've said, because Eddie huffs a laugh as he manhandles him down to sit on the kitchen floor, then presses his shoulder until he lays back. Buck's with it enough to figure out the next step on his own, and gets his feet up on the chair he'd been sitting in, knees bent, while Eddie keeps pressure on his hand through the dishtowel where he's holding it up in the air.

The rush of blood back to his head is swift and steadying. "Oh," he says, lucid and a little embarrassed this time.

"Yeah," Eddie says, a little bit of force behind it. "Oh."

"Sorry." His voice is smaller than he means it to be, but Eddie's face softens.

"You're okay." A little bit of a reassuring smile. "Chris, you good?"

"Yup!" Chris looks more interested than scared. "Are you going to look at his hand now?"

Eddie shakes his head a little bit, but carefully unwraps the dishtowel just enough to take a look. "I mean, we'll have to wash it out to see for sure, but I don't think we're looking at stitches or anything." He rewraps the dishtowel. "Chris, do you think you could hold this for me while I go get the first aid kit?"

"On it!" Chris's eyes light up, and Buck laughs from his spot on the ground.

"I think we've got a future medic on our hands," Buck says, eyebrows raised, to Eddie.

"On your hand," Chris corrects, and manages to keep a straight face for a full two seconds before Buck bursts out laughing, and then he does, too.

Eddie shakes his head at the two of them and disappears around the corner into the hallway.

"Are you okay, though?" Christopher asks, a little bit of worry creeping in once they're alone.

"Yeah." Buck's reassurance is steady this time. "I'm good with this kind of stuff when it's somebody else. Not so much when it's me."

"I think you're doing fine," Chris says, and pats his hand like he's the adult, here, and Buck has to laugh again.

"Thank you." Then, looking up as Eddie comes back around the corner: "I'm going to have to get up for this next part, huh?"

"If you think you can stay on your feet? Yes." Eddie's already laying out the gauze on the counter.

Buck just sticks out his other hand for Eddie to pull him to his feet. Eddie goes slow, and doesn't let go until Buck's leaning up against the sink. Chris is still pressed in close, so Eddie directs him over the first aid kit for the all-important "handing things over" duty.

"Ready?" Eddie murmurs as he turns on the water, and Buck steels himself and nods.

Looking at it under the water, hissing at the sting, Buck's pretty sure that Eddie's right, and he just barely avoided a trip to Urgent Care.

"No stitches," Eddie confirms, manipulating the cut just to make sure as Buck bites his tongue against the pain. "Unless you want to go get it checked out just to make sure."

"I do not," Buck grits out, and Eddie gives him a sympathetic smile.

"Okay, in that case: Assistant?"

Christopher hands him a clean handtowel, and antibiotic ointment, and gauze and tape and an ace bandage to keep it all in place.

"Thank you for visiting the Diaz medical clinic," Eddie says, squeezing Buck's shoulder once the bandaging's done and then turning to help Christopher put the first aid supplies away. "Please rate your service out of ten."

"Eleven," Buck says, grinning at Chris. "No, fifteen."

Chris rolls his eyes at the absurdity, but he's laughing, and Buck does, too. Eddie zips up the first aid kit but leaves it on the counter. "Just in case," he says. "Don't want to tempt fate."

"Thought you didn't believe in all that stuff?" Buck raises his eyebrows at him.

Eddie shrugs. "Well, you can never be too careful when there are knives around. Okay, where were we? No, Buck you're done for the day. I've got it."

Christopher starts back in on his pumpkin, and Eddie takes over carving Buck's. His hand is throbbing and he's starting to shake from the let-down after the adrenaline rush, but there's no way he's missing all of this.

"You good?" Eddie asks once he's got the scars carved into Buck's undead jack-o-lantern, as he steps back to inspect it before going in for the rest.

"Yeah," Buck says, and he means it. "I'm great."

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

Venom Let There Be Carnage Alternate Ending

"What would Venom do?" Eddie asked himself as he tapped on the desk, scrolling through his computer for something to help him. "We're fucked." The reporter banged his head against the desk when there was a knock on the apartment door. Despite their fight, as Eddie got up he hoped that maybe it was Venom coming back.

"Yeah, what's u-" Eddie trailed off when he saw the woman at the door. Frances Barrison had a large grin on her face.

"Hey there Eddie." She stepped in the apartment as the man backed away. "You're invited to mine and Cletus' wedding."

"Do I get a choice in this?" Eddie asked as he scrambled for something to defend himself with.

"Nope." She opened her mouth and began to shriek.

~~

"C'mon Eddie. Pick up, pick up..." Anne sat in her fiance's minivan, trying the man's number again but still got nothing.

'He's not picking up. Typical.'

"Well you're right there." Anne said as she tried to dial again, Venom manifesting over her shoulder to look at the phone screen.

"I'm sorry but how are you so can about this? There's literally an alien inside you right now. You kissed Mrs. Chen so he could go inside you. Don't your think that's weird?" Dan said as he looked at both his fiance and the alien incredulously.

"We know it's weird, at this point we're just used to it."

"How do you get used to that?" Dan asked as he pulled the car into park in front of Eddie's apartment building. The trio getting out and moving inside. Dan reaching for the elevator button but one of Venom's tendrils extended out and slapped his hand away.

'No time need stairs.'

"Venom said we don't have time for the elevator."

"Well tell him that I have tender calves and am taking the stairs." Dan pressed the button again when more tendrils shot out and grabbed the doctor. "What the hell-?" The doctor didn't get to finish as he was thrown up the flights of stairs followed closely by Anne and Venom. "Hey! What the hell was that? ...ow..."

'Tell him I think him and his tender calves are full of shit.'

"Venom said this was easier."

'Liar.' Anne rolled her eyes at the symbiote and instead focused on finding Eddie's apartment. Wasn't hard considering the door was blown almost completely off.

"That can't be good." Dr. Dan commented as they stepped over the door.

'Thank you for the commentary Dr. Dan.'

"Hey he's doing his best." Anne defended her fiance. Facing the room she was greeted by a mess. Not unusual save the large claw marks along the wall and all the busted out windows. "Don't suppose you had anything to do with this?"

'No. Not that we can remember.' Venom peeked of the woman and called out. "Eddie, we're here and willing to take an apology for your stupidity-wait where's Sonny and Cher?"

"Sonny and Cher?" Dan asked as he looked around the small apartment.

"Our chickens."

"Why do you have chickens?" Anne asked as she took a deep breath. "Uh gross. What's that smell?"

"The answer to both of those questions are, you don't want to know."

"Hey!" Dan came towards them holding a card in his hand. "Found this...I don't think it's good." Venom had one of his tendrils lash out, grabbing the card from Dan's hand and holding it in front of his and Anne's face.

"It's...."

"...a wedding invitation."

~~

"Oh what a happy day! Aren't you excited Eddie? Me and Frances finally getting out promised wedding." Cletus danced in the chapel's aisle excitedly. His suit covered by a ridiculous fur coat as he hummed before taking a seat in the pews next to Eddie. Eddie glared at Cletus as he wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders. "Or you at a loss for words too?"

"I'm gagged you asshole." Came out a muffled grunt as he tried to pull away from the man. Looking across the aisle he saw Detective Mulligan still slumped over unconscious. Eddie had been in a lot of not good situations before. But trapped with a serial killer that had alien symbiote in his body and they both wanted to kill him? Probably near the top of the list.

"All we have to do is wait for our guest of honor to arrive and we'll have a full on family reunion! Carnage sure was excited when I mentioned both his daddies were gon be here."

Daddies? Eddie narrowed his eyes. He was barely able to take care of himself, the idea he had a part in making a baby was somehow more terrifying than the situation at hand.

"Don't worry about him baby." The woman who brought him here laughed as she pulled Cletus away and dipping him for a kiss. "All that matters right now is you and me."

"Don't think I don't know that darlin'." The serial killer returned the kiss and very openly shoved his tongue down her throat. Eddie watched in horror as he tried but to vomit in his mouth. Instead focusing on his hands that were bound in front of him and trying to save at them on a broken off chunk of wood from the pew.

He didn't get very far when the doors to the church slammed open. Both he and the psychotic couple took pause and turned to see Anne standing in there doorway, a very angry look on her face.

"Anne!" Eddie tried to call out excitedly. Cletus pulled away from his to be wife, eyebrow raised.

"And who exactly are you?" Cletus asked. In response Venom appeared, taking over the woman's body and snarling.

"You took our Eddie."

"Oh! Well I guess the show has begun!" Cletus backed away and allowed his body to fade as a large red body took over. He looked like Venom only taller and if Eddie was being frank, much, much more terrifying. It seemed Venom agreed. The symbiote backing away with a loud ,"Shit!"

"Hey there daddy." The symbiote spoke. Extending his arm and grabbing Eddie. Yanking the man in front of them. The other arm turning into a large blade against Eddie's throat. "Don't think we've got the chance to meet. I'm your son. And it's time to pay up."

~~

'Shit, shit, shit!'

Venom cursed as he retreated back into Anne's body. The woman stood there, trying to make the symbiote come back out.

"Venom, what the hell?"

'That's a red one!'

"I can see! What's so scary about that?"

'That means it combined with the blood of another species.'

"And....?"

'And it's a lot stronger than normal ones!'

"So you're saying we're in trouble."

'An understatement but yes. Very much so.'

"Can you come back out now?" Anne yelled as she scrambled back when the symbiote began to approach them. Eddie in his grip, looked almost as terrified as they were.

.

'No way, we'd definitely die.'

"We're definitely going to die of you don't come out!" Anne screamed as she dodged out of the way of a tendril. It narrowly missed her head as she began to crawl under the pews away from the creature.

'No you're definitely going to die. We'd probably be fine.'

Another tendril wrapped around Anne's ankle, starting to drag her back to the creature.

"Yeah but Eddie won't be!"

'Hmmmm....'

"If you come out I'll let you eat people!" Anne was now full out panicking as she clung to the leg of a church bench for dear life.

'Really?'

"Yes! Everyone! Just help me out!"

'Okay!' The bench finally gave way but Venom took over the woman's body. As they were pulled up to the creature, Venom jumped up and punched the creature with a hard uppercut. This surprised them enough to drop Eddie. The reporter quickly crawling out of the way as the red symbiote retaliated. Bringing the makeshift blade down on Venom as they just further their own shield. The two trading blows when the church bells started to ring loudly. Both the symbiote screeched in pain. Retreating into their hosts bodies.

This left Anne and Cletus staring at each other. Anne getting ready to run when she was grabbed from behind by the strong arms of a woman.

"Hey there blondie." The other woman giggled as Cletus approached them.

"Ah Frances darling, got me another wedding gift? You shouldn't have." The bells continued to toll when the man grabbed a stray plastic bag from the dirty floor and wrapping it around the woman's face. Anne choked and gasped while the couple just stared at her with glee. Darkness starting to creep into the woman's vision when there was a loud shout.

"Hey! Get the fuck away from my fiance!" The grip on Anne loosened allowing her to fall to the ground. She immediately took the bag off to see Dan holding an aerosol can in one hand and a lighter in the other. "Say hello to my little friends!"

By now the bell had stopped and everyone was clearly able to hear this terrible quip.

'He did not just say that.' Venom spoke in Anne's head.

"No...he did."

'I still don't get why you left us for him.'

Venom couldn't complain too much as he took over Anne's body again. Dan lit his makeshift flame thrower and backed the couple away. The red symbiote taking over Cletus' body again and growling.

"This isn't over." The creature hissed out, grabbing the woman and swinging out of the chapel she cackled, them disappearing into the night. But that wasn't what was important. Instead they rushed over to Eddie who was sprawled out on the floor.

"Eddie!" Venom rushed over to the man. Leaning down they ripped the gag out as he opened his eyes.

"Mmm...Venom? You actually came?" He sounded surprised. The symbiote sliced through the ropes and brought the man up in a hug. "Whoa there buddy....you must've really missed me."

"We're still angry at you."

"Yeah. I kind of figured."

"Is there anything you want to say?"

"I'm an idiot?"

"And?"

"You're not a parasite?"

"And...?"

"And....I'm sorry. I was a huge asshole and I could probably be a better host."

"Isn't there anything else you want to say to them?" They turned to see Dan who had been intently watching them from a distance.

"Anything else?" Eddie asked confused.

"Like I love you?" Venom asked and Eddie made a face before leaning in.

"Yeah. I guess. I love you sounds about right." Venom leaned down, lips locking with Eddie's as they left Anne's body and took over his.

"Aww..... that's sweet. I think." Dan spoke as Anne stepped back. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I think so. Honestly I'm glad they're finally working through their issues."

"Yeah....here's hoping they don't have anymore kids though." Dan laughed as he said this. "I mean, what are the odds?"