#but with eddie holding a chicken under his arm

[hawkinsbnbg]

After quitting his accounting job at his father's company, Steve left the city and moved to the countryside where he used most of his savings to open a small ranch.

Steve enjoyed his farmer life until one day, some of his chickens suddenly went missing.

At first, he thought it was the foxes, but even after he locked the doors, and set up the traps, his chickens still went away the morning after.

Steve even rang up Hopper, a local hunter, for advice.

But for all the efforts, he still couldn't keep his chickens safe from the foxes.

Eventually, when nothing worked, Steve decided to step up his game and catch the foxes before they could steal his chickens again.

And then that night, Steve witnessed a rug-rag of a man carefully step around the traps, creep into the henhouse, and then creep out with a chicken tucked under his arm.

Steve was like????

Because a closer look revealed that that was Eddie Munson, the local carpenter who had given Steve several discounts on the furniture he had bought when he first moved here.

Every week, Steve would exchange some eggs and meats for some wood from Eddie.

In return, Eddie would help him with the fences and barns whenever they needed to be fixed.

Although Steve hadn’t known Eddie that long, he would still like to think they were friends.

Thus, seeing Eddie here felt wrong. Weird, but a betrayal nonetheless.

Steve just stood there, stunned, before he came to his senses and called out to Eddie.

"Hey! That's my chicken, man!"

Eddie turned around, slowly, and then their eyes met.

Steve didn't think he could breathe.

Those eyes seemed unnatural, they were black, red-rimmed, and too bloodthirsty to be considered human. He knew Eddie had always looked pale, but under the moonlight, the other man looked like a ghost.

"Steve?" Eddie gasped, looking as terrified as his stoic facial muscles allowed him to.

"Eddie…” Steve hesitated for a few seconds before pointing at the chicken under Eddie’s arm. “Why are you holding my chicken?”

At his question, Eddie remained silent and stood strangely still, almost like a statue.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Steve. It couldn’t be, but since all the evidence was here, Steve couldn't lie to himself any longer. "Are you..?"

"What?" Eddie stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Are you the chicken stealer?" Steve squinted and watched Eddie adjust his grasp on the unconscious hen.

Oh my god, she had been passing out this whole time, Steve belatedly realized with growing concern.

"I'm sorry," said Eddie before quickly running away, leaving Steve behind to gape at his retreating form.

The next morning, Steve went to Eddie's place with two chickens.

Eddie had eyed the cage with a guilty look before sitting Steve down and explaining about his reason for stealing Steve's chicken.

Eddie had been stealing chickens to give them to his sick uncle who had been bedridden for weeks now.

The reason sounded off, but Steve still bought it because he didn't want to think about the alternative of why would Eddie need so many chickens in the first place.

But Steve's attempt to remain oblivious had sadly failed when Eddie moved in to live with him at the ranch.

(Why? Because they had become boyfriends after one year of flirting and sharing tender moments.)

He had caught Eddie drinking blood from a chicken one early morning when he went to check the henhouse.

"Wait, babe, I can explain!" Eddie, lips blood red and eyes midnight black, had held onto Steve's hands pleadingly and desperately.

And though Steve had half a mind to suggest Eddie give the ducks, gooses, pigs, and cows a try, he decided to comfort his boyfriend first.

He told Eddie that he had been trying to avoid this exact scenario because he thought Eddie would drop him and hightail away the moment Steve discovered the truth.

This time, Eddie sat him down again and told him about the real reason why he had stolen those chickens.

This time, Steve finally learned about vampires and the truth about his boyfriend.

This time, Eddie cried bloody tears when Steve reassured him that he wouldn’t go anywhere no matter who Eddie was or chose to become.

Still, there was this question that he had been itching to ask Eddie.

"But why the chickens?"

"They're tasty. Can't help it, man."

"Touché."

[lady-lostmind]

I had the absolute pleasure of getting to write a fic based on this amazing art by @ahhrenata for @strangerthingsreversebigbang! Link to art post Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this! Read the fic on ao3 or under the cut!

Eddie rolls over with a groan. He feels awful. He can’t breath out of his nose, there’s so much pressure in his head he feels like it might explode and his throat feels like he swallowed a cup of razors. He lets out a truly pathetic whimper, the sound catching in his throat as it turns into a cough. He stretches his arm out, feeling around for Steve and is met with cold, empty sheets. He whines again and finally pries his eyes open. 

“Stevie?” 

He hears Steve pad down the hall and then he’s opening the door to their room, a soft smile on his face as he peers down at Eddie on the bed. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Eddie sniffles loudly. “I don’t feel good.” 

Steve sighs and leans against the door frame. “I told you not to go out in the cold with Dustin the other night. You didn’t even have a coat.” 

Eddie groans again and flops over, reaching his hand out to Steve. “Come cuddle with me.” 

Steve huffs out a laugh. “You’re whiny when you’re sick.” 

But he pushes off the doorframe and crawls onto the bed, dropping down next to Eddie and letting him wrap his limbs around his body and press his face against Steve’s chest. 

Eddie snuggles in and hums, ready to fall back asleep for forever, or until he can actually breathe again. Whichever comes first. 

Steve’s hand lands on his forehead, pushing his bangs out of the way. “Baby, you’re hot.” 

Eddie lets out a little chuckle, his voice low and raspy from the pain in his throat. “I’m flattered, sweetheart. But I don’t think I’m really up for anything sexy right now, Stevie.” 

Steve swats his arm. “I wasn’t coming onto you, asshole. You have a fever.”

Steve pulls away, like he’s going to get back up and Eddie holds on tighter to him, another whine slipping out of his lips.

Steve rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get you some stuff.” 

Eddie’s hand flops onto the bed as Steve gets up and disappears from the room. Eddie rolls back over, pulling the blankets up and burrowing under them to fall back asleep. 

–

Eddie wakes up to Steve nudging him gently, holding out a little cup of red liquid. Eddie’s face scrunches up in disgust and he shakes his head with a groan, trying to hide under the covers again. “I hate that shit.” 

Steve rolls his eyes and tugs the blanket back. “Eds, you gotta take this. It’ll bring your fever down. Come on.”

Eddie groans again, but pulls himself up to sit and takes the little shot of medicine with a grimace. 

Steve chuckles beside him. “I’ve seen you drink jager straight from the bottle and you’re making that face over cherry cough medicine?” 

Eddie shoots him a cocky grin. “Jager is good though. That shit tastes like pennies.” 

Steve shakes his head, pulling the covers back up around Eddie’s chin. “There’s tissues and water next to you on the table. You want me to drag the TV in here?” 

Eddie shakes his head, already settling back into the pillows and drifting off. He reaches out a hand to tug at Steve’s wrist. 

Steve sighs, climbing under the blankets with him and pulling him close. “You’re gonna get me sick.” 

Eddie grins and plants a wet kiss to the back of Steve’s hand before he falls asleep again. 

–

The next time Eddie resurfaces it’s to Steve’s fingers trailing softly through his hair. He sniffs, whining when it makes the pressure in his head spike. 

“Made you some soup, baby. You hungry?” 

Eddie nods and forces himself to sit up, smiling at Steve when he hands him a bowl of chicken noodle. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

Steve leans over and presses a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “You sure you don’t want the TV in here? We could watch some movies.” 

Eddie shrugs. “I’ll probably just fall asleep five minutes in. But you can bring it in if you’re bored.” 

Steve shakes his head and grabs a book off his side table, wiggling it in the air. “I’m good.”

Eddie’s eyes lock on the book and his jaw drops open. “Are you finally reading The Lord of the Rings?” 

Steve flashes him a big grin and nods. “They’re confusing though. How do you keep track of all these crazy names?” 

Eddie chuckles. “You get used to it after a while.” He sets his empty bowl aside and lays back down, peering up at Steve with big, pleading eyes. “Will you read to me?”

Steve’s face scrunches up. “I’m not very good.”

Eddie scoots in closer, plopping his head onto Steve’s lap. “I just want to hear your voice.” 

Steve’s hand finds its way back into Eddie’s curls again. “Do you want me to start over?”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve read them like ten times. You can start where you left off.” 

Steve nods and opens the book, clearing his throat. “‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo.”

Eddie lets the familiar words wash over him. Steve’s voice making him feel safe and warm, the fingers in his hair soothing him to sleep.

–

Eddie wakes up again, his throat burning and raw. He’s alone in the bed again and it’s dark. The blankets tucked in tight around him, making him over heated, his hair plastered to his forehead. He sits up, reaching for a tissue as a harsh cough racks his body. He groans, wincing as he wipes his mouth. 

Eddie hates being sick. And yeah. He knows nobody likes being sick. Obviously. But he can’t stand it. It makes him feel trapped in his own body. Trapped in his bed. He doesn’t like to sit still for so long. To feel like he can’t do anything. 

The door creaks open, a sliver of light peeking through before it disappears again, Steve’s body blocking it out as he leans in, a sad little smile on his face. “You okay, baby? Heard you coughing.” 

Eddie lets out a pathetic whine, falling against the pillows again, somehow still exhausted even though he slept through most of the day already. “No.” 

Steve pushes the door open the rest of the way, comes up to him and puts his hand on his forehead before making a little tsk noise, and brushing his hair out of his face. “I’m going to get you another dose of medicine.” 

Eddie groans, grabbing Steve’s wrist and shaking his head. 

Steve chuckles, bending down to press a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “What if I bring you a popsicle to chase it with? Make your throat feel a little better.” 

Eddie’s eyes flick up to Steve’s, his eyebrows shooting up. “Not sure your popsicle is going to help my throat much but–”

Steve rolls his eyes with a smile, tugging his arm back and shaking his head. “Would you stop? You’re awful.” He heads back to the door, turning back with his hands on his hips. “Orange or cherry?” 

Eddie whines. “No grape?” 

Steve chuckles. “You and Dustin ate all the grape, baby.” 

Eddie huffs out a breath. “Orange then.” 

Eddie grins as Steve leaves the room. He really hates being sick. But he doesn’t mind this whole Steve-taking-care-of-him thing. That part’s pretty nice. He can’t really remember the last time someone did this for him. Thinks it must have been his mom, when he was still little. Remembers curling up with her on the couch, her humming softly as he fell asleep. 

He doesn’t have a lot of good memories with her. Mostly screaming matches with his dad, and her disappearing for weeks at a time. But there were a few times when things were good. When he felt loved. When he really felt like he understood what it was like to be wanted. And then he’d gone to live with Wayne. And he did his best. And Eddie knows he loves him. Knows he would do anything for him. But he’s a grumpy old man who never thought he’d be raising a kid. His version of taking care of Eddie when he was sick was buying some soup and leaving it on the counter for Eddie to make while he was at work. And that was fine. Eddie is grateful for everything Wayne has done for him. It just wasn’t exactly a lovey household. Not that it wasn’t full of love. They just…didn’t really show it. But he feels the love in everything Steve does. Sees it in the way Steve’s eyes light up when they look at him. In the way his hands always linger. No matter where they touch. Like he never wants to be more than a breath away from him. Like he wants nothing more than to bring him a stupid orange popsicle when his throat hurts to make him feel better. 

Eddie smirks as Steve comes back into the room, cough medicine in one hand, popsicle in the other.

–

Eddie feels a little better when he wakes up the next morning. Late morning. The room bright with the sun peeking in through the blinds. He’s still sick. Still can’t really breathe normally. His throat is still protesting every time he tries to swallow. But he feels a little less dead. And he didn’t wake up drenched in sweat this time so, hopefully that means his fever is gone. Thanks to Steve’s stupid medicine. Not that he’d ever admit that to him. 

Steve comes in with a plate piled high with toast, and a mug of tea that Eddie is sure has way too much honey in it, for his throat. 

Eddie takes the offered breakfast with a sleepy smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

Steve presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “You’re welcome, baby. You feeling better?”

Eddie shrugs, stuffing half a piece of toast in his mouth. Steve climbs onto the bed with him, grabbing Eddie’s book from the table on his side of the bed, settling back against the pillows.

Eddie perks up, shifting so he can watch the way Steve’s mouth wraps around the words Eddie knows by heart. They’re some of his favorite configurations of words in the world, and Steve somehow makes him love them even more. He loves the slight hesitancy he has as he stumbles over the names, the pauses he adds in strange spots when he’s clearly trying to piece parts of the story together. He can tell he’s really trying to get it. Trying to understand why Eddie loves this so much. Trying to understand Eddie more. Which he’s pretty sure no one else has done before. 

Everyone else just takes him at face value. The loud, over the top, obnoxious behavior, his weird obsessions and interests. People either look at him and want nothing to do with him, or they look at him in awe, like he’s something shiny, something to distract them from whatever bullshit is going on in their own lives. But he’s never had someone look at him like he’s something to be treasured. To dive into and see all the sides of. Until Steve. 

Steve, who he knows hates half of the stuff Eddie is into but still asks questions. Who knows Eddie’s favorite songs and books and movies. Who knows he prefers grape popsicles. Who looks at him in that awestruck way even when he’s quiet. When he’s just existing in their space, not putting on a front or a show. Steve still sees him, even then. 

Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to Steve’s, cutting him off mid sentence. 

Steve huffs out a laugh against Eddie’s lips before pushing him back. “Is my reading that bad?”

Eddie shakes his head and takes another bite of toast, getting crumbs all over the bed as he scooches closer to Steve who lifts his arm to tuck Eddie into his side. 

–

By day four Eddie is still feeling pretty bad, and worn out, but also bored. He still doesn’t have the energy to leave their bed much but he also can’t stand just laying around anymore. 

He shuffles his way out to the living room, ignoring Steve’s squawk of protest as he spots him from where he’s doing dishes in the kitchen. Eddie makes it halfway to the coffee table before Steve is there, a hand towel slung over his shoulder as he tries to push Eddie back down the hall. 

“What are you doing? Go back to bed.” 

Eddie groans and gestures to his stack of notebooks on the table. “I’m bored, Steve. I want to work on my campaign.” 

Steve nudges him back again, a crease forming between his brows. “I’ll bring them to you. Go lay down.” 

Eddie lets out an annoyed whine but turns and heads back down the hall, collapsing on the bed where he immediately lets out a sigh of relief, the pressure that was building in his head from being vertical backs off as soon as he hits the pillows. Because Steve was right, of course. He should have just asked him to grab his stuff for him. 

Steve comes in a few minutes later with all of Eddie’s notebooks and campaign books piled high in his arms. He dumps them on the bed and disappears again, coming back with a stack of Eddie’s tapes and his walkman, adding them to the mess on the bed and perching on the edge. 

Eddie grins at him. “You’re the best, you know that?” 

Steve shrugs, a little blush flashing on his cheeks. He reaches out and squeezes Eddie’s knee. “Just know you like to listen to music while you work. I’ll bring you some dinner in a little bit, okay?” 

Eddie watches as he gets up to go, smirk firmly in place as he pulls his notebooks closer to him and flips the top one open, trying to jump back into the story he was forming.

–

Eddie stares down at his notebook, sniffing loudly and tossing a crumpled up tissue onto the floor next to the bed. He taps his pen on the page, trying to will the scene to write itself. A cough works its way up the back of his throat and sticks there, making him hack over and over until he’s pulling in a wheezing breath and falling back against the pillows.

“Fuck me.” He groans out, shoving his notebook away with a huff. He hates being sick. Can’t even manage to focus on his campaign for more than fifteen minutes before he’s coughing and exhausted and–

Steve pushes the door open with his hip, a steaming bowl of soup in his hands and a bright smile that reaches his eyes on his face.

Eddie sighs, pulling himself up to sit against the headboard and lets Steve fuss over pillow placements as he hands over the soup. He stares up at Steve, his chest full of adoration for this wonderful man who works himself into a tizzy because Eddie didn’t make sure he was properly supported by his pillows. Because how is his gorgeous man even real? How did Eddie get so lucky? 

Eddie sets his soup on the side table as Steve leans over him, trying to manhandle Eddie into a position he deems acceptable and Eddie grabs his face, pulling him into a soft kiss, smiling against Steve’s mouth when he feels him melt a little into the touch. 

Steve pulls back with a chuckle, pushing against Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s like you’re trying to get me sick, Eds.” Eddie lets out a laugh and sniffs, trying not to be an oozing, gross mess with Steve so up close and personal. “Sorry. I just can’t help myself when you’re being so sweet.” 

Steve’s face blooms red and he ducks his head with a little shake before standing and grabbing Eddie’s soup off the table again, pushing it back into Eddie’s hands. “Eat your soup, baby.” 

Eddie gives him a little two finger salute and nods, dimple popping on his check. “Yes, sir.” 

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie takes a big spoonful, making an obnoxiously loud slurp just to see the way Steve’s face scrunches in disgust. 

–

Eddie wakes up in the middle of the night, coughing and wheezing, trying to catch his breath and be quiet so he doesn’t wake up–

Steve’s hand lands on his back, rubbing gently.

Eddie groans, looking guiltily over at Steve. “Sorry I woke–” His voice catches on another cough, sending him into another fit. 

Steve sits up, hand still on Eddie’s back, the other coming up to sweep the hair away from his face. “It’s okay, baby. Just breathe.” 

Eddie nods, sucking in a deep breath and trying to ignore the tickle in the back of his throat threatening another cough. Steve gets up and heads out of the room, coming back with a glass of water that he hands to Eddie before sliding back into bed, his hand finding its way back to its spot on Eddie’s back. Eddie takes a couple of small sips before setting the glass aside and laying back down, Steve scooches in close, pressing their foreheads together, one hand still on Eddie’s back, the other working its way to tangle in his hair.

Eddie hums reaching up to cup Steve’s face, feeling content as his eyes slip closed. 

–

The next morning Eddie wakes up feeling much better. He’s still a little stuffy, but his throat doesn’t hurt anymore and his head feels a little clearer. Like the sick haze is starting to dissipate. He stretches, letting out a satisfied groan and slips up to jump in the shower. 

The hot water does wonders for him and by the time he steps out of the bathroom, rubbing his drenched hair with a towel, he feels almost human again. 

He glances over at Steve, still fast asleep in the bed. Eddie’s brow scrunches together and he looks at the clock. 11:15am. 

Huh. Steve never sleeps in this late. He gets up obnoxiously early to work out before he gets moving for the day. Eddie climbs back into the bed and presses soft kisses along Steve’s jaw, smiling when his sleepy eyes peek open at him. 

“You slept in.” Eddie traces his fingers along Steve’s arm. 

Steve lets out a little whimper, pressing his face into the pillows. 

Eddie pushes some hair out of Steve’s face, his fingers grazing his forehead which is blazing. 

Eddie curses under his breath, planting his hand more firmly on Steve’s skin. “Oh no, sweetheart.” 

Steve peers up at him with big, sad puppy eyes, his voice strained and nasally. “I’m sick, Eds.”

[stevieschrodinger]

for @brazenliar

Part One Two Three

tw; childbirth

Eddie’s never moved this fast in his life; keys, phone, wallet, one quick mouthful of now cold chicken off his dinner plate, jacket, crocs off, sneakers on and he’s out the door.

Eddie carries Steve’s bag and the car seat, the towel rolled up under his arm, while Steve waddles along besides him.

He has to stop occasionally to take some deep breaths, obviously in pain, but it doesn’t take that long to get to the van. Eddie sets the towel on the passenger seat, rolling his eyes as Steve insist on it. Once he’s settled, Steve calls Robin and explains the new plan. Chrissy’s on her way apparently, so it shouldn’t be too long.

Eddie’s never been a nervous driver. Eddie’s never been in an accident that was his fault. He got rear ended one time and the bumper fell off, but that was about it. But now; this journey? Eddie’s driving like there’s a very full jug of gravy strapped into the passenger seat.

It’s a huge relief when they make it to the hospital. Eddie just throws the van into one of the spots out front; he’s not sure if he’s even allowed to park there but, honestly, fuck it. If he gets a fine he gets a fine.

Steve’s taking some awfully deep breaths and white knuckling his seatbelt strap, but otherwise seems okay. Just scents a little nervous mostly, a little scared, but Eddie can’t really blame him for that at all.

Once Eddie carefully wrangles Steve out of the van, he realizes Steve was absolutely right because, to be fair, Steve has left a fair old mark on the towel, so maybe Eddie will let him off for insisting.

Eddie leaves the carseat, figuring he can grab that in a bit – it leaves him a free hand for Steve to hold on to while they walk – and waddle – into the hospital.

They get directed to wait until a nurse can come down with a wheel chair, but in a sharp and really, really uncharacteristic show of temper, Steve snaps at the lady behind the desk that ‘he can walk, thank you very much. He is in labor, he is not incapable!’ And for the first time ever, Eddie scents the spicy scent of Steve's irritation.

She looks at Steve dubiously, but directs them in the right direction. Eddie is incredibly relieved that a nurse with a wheelchair meets them half way anyway, Steve still refuses to sit in it, so she follows along just in case she’s needed.

She seems really nice, from what Eddie can tell, and when Eddie looks over at her, she mouths a clear, ‘don’t worry,’ with a smile on her face, so Eddie figures this is all cool or normal or whatever.

Especially since Eddie has not a fucking clue what to expect here.

They make it to a set of doors with a keypad; the nurse lets them in. It makes a lot of sense, and gets rid of a worry Eddie didn’t even know he had; Steve’s going to be safe here. This bit of the hospital is extra secure for Steve and the pup.

“Eddie,” Steve stops walking, “there’s something-” and then Steve makes an unholy noise, doubling over as yet more bloody liquid gushes out of him. It’s like when the elevator doors open in the shining. Or that bit at the end of Carrie.

No it isn’t. It isn’t anywhere near that bad, it just looks like it is since there looks like there’s a lot of it and the fact that it's coming out of Steve probably makes it look worse than it really is.

Steve’s sneakers are going to be fucked, Eddie thinks absently, while having his hand near as damn snapped in half. There’s a nurse there with some sort of absorbent padding, thin blue plastic on one side, and white diamond pattern of white padding on the other, “don’t worry, we got you.”

Steve starts to list to the side, Eddie drops the overnight bag to come in front, Steve flailing and grabbing Eddie’s other hand as he pants his way through something that looks pretty fucking painful from a spectators point of view.

“Okay Mr. Harrington, I have to have a look.”

“Need the chair?” Nurse number one asks.

“Nope, way too late for that, he’s crowning,” and then suddenly a lot happens all at once. There’s another nurse there suddenly, gloved up and wearing an apron. Steve drags Eddie down with him as he sinks to his knees.

“Okay Mr. Harrington, you’re going to feel the urge to push on your contraction, you go ahead and do that when it feels right.”

Steve’s clawing at Eddie, his hands move for purchase on Eddie’s shoulders, “Eddie, I don’t want to have my baby in the fucking hallway,” he pants, face buried against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Uhm, not sure we can stop it,” Eddie says really really unhelpfully, right as Steve growls out a sound Eddie didn’t even know Omega’s could even make.

Eddie's forced to have his chin hooked over Steve's shoulder due to their positions, and that means Eddie's looking straight down Steve's back; he has front row seats for what happens next.

The nurses are all talking to each other, and they're all pretty calm, like this is a normal day at the office, except for when one of them shouts for something...and then there’s a baby. it just sort of slips free of Steve's body, like a magic trick, Steve making another one of those noises right in Eddie's ear.

The pup is crying and one of the nurses says, “is that a new record?”

A different one replies, “nah, there was that lady who only made it into the lobby.”

Eddie stares in wonder. And also, a bit in horror. It’s a boy, very definitely a boy, in fact. Eddie’s instinct is that Steve’s just given birth to an Alpha. One who’s covered in gack and blood, and he’s waving his arms and legs around like he doesn’t know what to do with all the space he’s suddenly got. He’s kind of covered in whitish slime, and he has got a lot of hair. Like a lot.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with his lungs.

“Are they okay? Eddie, please- is-”

“Yeah,” Eddie comes back to earth with a bump, Steve whispering in his ear, Eddie watches the nurse tie off and cut the umbilical, “yeah he’s absolutely fine Steve.”

“He?” Steve sobs against Eddie’s neck.

Eddie watches as a nurse kind of randomly sticks her fingers in the babies mouth, and then they’re taking him away and Eddie is not at all fucking happy about that but is distracted again by a nurse.

“Okay Mr. Harrington, once more and you’re done.”

For a split second, Eddie thinks Steve’s having twins, but then he finds out the placenta is a whole other thing that needs to happen.

Every day’s a school day.

Eddie’s kneeling on a hallway floor, taking half of Steve’s weight, and Steve’s just had a pup. Steve snuffles at Eddie’s neck, and Eddie is flooded with a bone deep certainty that he is exactly where he’s supposed to be.

“Eddie, I have to get up.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah.”

Eddie helps, making it half way before wheelchair nurse is back, and Eddie helps Steve, really gingerly and a little awkward, settle into the chair.

“Where is he?”

“They’re just cleaning him up, lets get you onto a bed and he’ll be there.”

Steve just...strips in front of Eddie. Eddie catches stretchmarks and then the curve of Steve’s ass as he climbs into bed, and then, true to their word, swaddled in a hospital blanket, the baby is half unwrapped so that they are skin to skin, and deposited onto Steve’s chest, “seven pound four,” she tells Steve.

She waits, making sure Steve doesn’t have any problems with the baby ‘latching’ – which Eddie works out is the proper word for the little guy getting on Steve’s nip – and then she goes to get Steve some water and pain relief.

Eddie just stands there, next to the bed, quietly amazed. It’s like the whole world just shifted a little to the left; this tiny thing suckling at Steve’s rounded chest is just...suddenly the most precious thing in the world. Steve's got a fair bit of chest hair for an Omega; Eddie cannot stop staring at where the tiny pups fingers are gripping at it as he suckles.

“Steve,” Steve looks up, he looks tired, and a little washed out, but so fucking happy, “congratulations.”

Steve smiles, “thanks Eddie.”

“So what are you going to name him?”

Steve’s had a drink, some pain meds, and been inspected by a doctor. Eddie was aloud to sit in the arm chair and hold the little pup while Steve got checked out and...he didn’t cry, but it was close. The scent of pup seems to have already ingrained itself on Eddie’s soul.

He’s asleep now, and neither of them can stop staring at him, they talk in whispers.

“I don't know, I thought I’d just...see them and know, somehow.”

Eddie hums, thinking. “How about Ronnie James?”

“Uh hu. And who is that?”

“Ronnie James Dio Steve, only the greatest musical talent of all time.”

Steve sighs, “I like James.”

“Yeah?”

“Jamie, yeah, James Robin Harrington, what do you think?”

“I mean...I’m kind of biased but yeah. Yeah I like it.”

“Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod Steve.”

“Hey, Robbie.”

Robin comes into the room slowly, and Eddie can tell she’s barely holding back, “I missed it. Oh I’m so sorry I missed it I-”

“Hey it’s okay, honestly it happened so fast I nearly missed it.”

They keep chatting, Robin apologizing and then, crying. And then Steve starts crying. And Robins saying she’s so proud and they’re scenting each other and Robin's scenting the pup and then they’re crying again and Steve’s telling her the name and then that’s a whole thing because Robin didn’t know about the middle name, apparently-

A blonde beta female has sidled up to Eddie, “I’m Chrissy, Eddie, right?”

“Yeah, nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah same and...this,” she vaguely indicates where Robin and Steve are now, cuddled on the bed with the pup, “we just have to let this happen, you want to grab a coffee?”

Eddie doesn’t want to leave, he wants to climb into bed with his mate and his pup and never leave them, but he also recognizes that instinct for what it is; batshit. “I’d fucking love one.”

Part Five

[munsonfamilyband]

I’ve been on a Soulmates kick today and just saw a fic where Steve has two marks - one for Robin and one for Eddie. And it’s got me thinking.

Of course, he doesn’t know who his marks are for. He only knows that they’re two people because they look so different. Soulmarks show up where you and your soulmate will have the first skin-skin contact, and they have the words they will say when that happens written in their handwriting.

Steve has one covering his palm, the handwriting is small and sharp, all angles and no rounded edges. That one says “Steve, we need to run”. It seems scared, the wording, but he refuses to think about it. The other mark he has is covering his left hip, curling like someone was holding him from the side. This handwriting is completely different from the other one and is best described as chicken scratch. It’s big and messy, letters flowing into each other like the writer didn’t even pick up their pen between each stroke. That one says “I got you, just lean on me”. It seems less scared but there’s concern laced in the words that helps Steve feel less alone when he’s laying in bed late at night. That’s the only time he ever lets himself think about his soulmates, during the day he avoids it like the plague. His parents are soulmates and they barely speak, so soulmates can’t be all they’re cracked up to be. After Nancy never makes one of his marks tingle and burn he tries to give up on the idea entirely, figuring he can go on without a soulmate and be with Nancy - but then she breaks his heart and those late nights are all he has.

His first soulmark changes when he’s stuck underneath Starcourt mall the summer after he graduated. He had been working with a girl, Robin, who barely tolerated him on a good day and now she’s been sucked into his shitty world. When the alarms go off in the bunker he barely has a second to react before Robin is grabbing his hand and yelling at him, “Steve, we need to run!” His feet start moving and he yells back for her to be careful with his arm, even as he feels the tingling burn cover his palm and in that supply closet, leaning against the door next to Robin they make eye contact. In that short second of connection he knows that she felt it to, that he’s just found his soulmate and despite his fear he’s so happy that it’s her. Later, after they had both puked up their guts and he had confessed to having a crush on her, Robin told him about Mrs. Click’s class and Tammy Thompson and how she’s sorry that he’s stuck with a soulmate who can never love him back. Steve blinks and suddenly his two soulmarks make so much more sense.

“Robin, I have another soulmark. I don’t… I don’t think you were ever a romantic soulmate for me.” He watches the relief and, maybe even, joy cover her face and she launches herself at him in a hug, squeezing him tight and he returns the favor completely ignoring his own pain.

The other soulmate comes over 8 months after meeting Robin. He was so grateful for having her in his life but he still wanted that other piece, he loved Robin and she loved him but he wanted romantic love too. Unfortunately for Steve, just like with Robin, his other soulmark was triggered when he was fearing for his life. He had just been dragged through Watergate and made into a chew toy for a bunch of demobats. Steve was just trying to catch his breath when they all heard the bigger hoard approaching and he knew he had to run. He made it surprisingly far before the pain of each step started to settle in, his feet dragging more and more and his pace slowing when someone moved in beside him, wrapping one arm around his back to settle his hand on his hip. Eddie grabbed the arm closest to him and dragged it over his shoulders, giving Steve a grin. “I got you, you can lean on me.” This only made Steve completely trip; the sudden onset of tingling burning at his side so close to his currently bleeding wounds had his left leg collapsing under his weight.

“Why does this always happen when I’m in danger?” Eddie froze and then a laugh burst forward.

“That makes so much sense with context. C’mon let’s get you somewhere to sit and we can talk more when you’re not bleeding over me.”

When he and Eddie got to Skull Rock, he and Robin made eye contact and he watched her eyes flit down to where Eddie’s hand was on his side. Her eyes grew about three sizes and he just shot her the best grin he could. He didn’t care that he had been bleeding all over his soulmate for the past few minutes - he had gotten blood on Robin when they found out that they were soulmates, so it seemed fitting for him to be doing the same to Eddie.

Years down the road he would look back and laugh at the drama surrounding him finding both of his soulmates. Eddie even joked that the universe gave him two to make up for his shitty parents, and Steve wasn’t going to argue.

[luveline]

Can I request an Eddie and Roan, where she goes to Wayne's house and Eddie and Reader are there talking with Wayne but also planning what to get Roan for Christmas?

eddie and roan ♡ fem!reader

“Got it?” 

Roan nods and hops up the last step to Uncle Wayne's while you and Eddie follow behind her. You're carrying a big Christmas cake held tight to your chest while Roan's father insists on carrying the drinks, an eighteen pack of glass cokes, enough to keep Wayne going for the next two weeks at least, less with help. 

“Uncle Wayne!” Roan calls as she opens the door. It swings wide and hits the wall. She doesn't care. She's about to see Wayne for the first time in almost two weeks, and she missed him like crazy. Eddie almost got sick of hearing her ask when he'd be feeling better. “Uncle Wayne!” 

The second shout is much more desperate.

Wayne appears in the curve behind the kitchen doorway to smile at her. “Hello, my chicken.” 

Eddie snorts and slams the cokes down on the sideboard with a jumble of clinks. Wayne is a great dad, but he never called Eddie anything so saccharine. Bud and babe was about as good as it got. Roan gets all the sweet stuff, chicken and gorgeous and baby girl. It doesn't quite make Eddie jealous —nothing feels as secure in parenthood as knowing someone else loves your kid just as much as you do. Wayne would die for Roan without question. He can call her chicken if he likes. 

Roan barrels across the carpet in her Mary Jane's and slams into his legs. He pulls her up into his chest, giving her hair a smattering of quick kisses, her dress bunched by his hugging arm. “It's so nice to see you, honey, I missed you!” 

She grins and makes a pleased, almost feral sort of sound as she kisses his cheek. “I missed you too! We missed our sleepover!” 

“Yes, we did. So I get you for two days, yes?” 

“Yes!” she shouts, looking over her shoulder at you and Eddie to confirm. 

Eddie holds up his now empty hands, though they don't stay that way for long as he takes the cake from you. “No arguments here.” 

Roan laughs and squeezes herself under Wayne's chin. He wraps her up and keeps her, assessing you and Eddie with suspicious eyes. “How are you both doing?” 

Eddie brushes past Wayne to put the cake on the table. Wayne isn't really asking Eddie; they know too much about one another having spent the last decade together, first by sharing a wall and now working side by side at the shop. Eddie's sure Wayne's sick to death of his complaining by now, but you're deserving of some sympathy for sure. 

“She's getting better. Aren't you, sweet thing?” Eddie asks you. 

“I'm fine,” you say, shooting Wayne a smile. “It was probably the same thing you had.” 

“Yeah? He take care of you?” 

“Always does. He's never let me down.” You cross your arms over your front. “But how are you doing?” 

“I know you missed her,” Eddie interjects, “but if you're not feeling up to it, she doesn't have to stay all weekend.” 

Wayne raises his eyebrows to protest. Roan beats him to it, yanking herself away from his cuddling to glare at the suggestion. “Dad, you said!” 

“Said I'd see if he was up to it, yeah,” Eddie placates. 

“I'm up to it.” Wayne gives Roan a soft smile. “We'll be good, right? Watch TV, eat hot dogs for breakfast, lunch, ‘n’ dinner. Dad's just being silly.” 

Roan leans back into the hug, relieved, and Wayne pulls her head to his chest, covering her ear subtly. “Thought you needed to get some things? You know, from Santa?” he whispers, ‘Santa’ mouthed without sound. 

“Yeah, if we knew what to get her,” Eddie says, brushing his hair behind his ears. “Kid's impossible. Asked Santa for a baby sister and a pet turtle.” 

“What's wrong with that?” 

“Wayne–” 

“The turtle, I mean.” He nods at you apologetically. 

You aren't offended at the idea of a baby sister being an easy gift, and you laugh at his correction. “We don't have room for the tank, I already checked.” 

“She got the measuring tape out and everything.” 

“What?” Wayne asks. “Put it outside.” 

“It's not that easy,” Eddie sighs morosely. “They're very particular creatures.” 

“It’ll suit you nicely, then.” 

You laugh again. Roan wriggles to be put down, curious at the sound, though she wasn't as deafened as it seemed. “Santa will bring the tank, guys, that's how Santa works, and the turtle. We just need to move the couch,” she says simply. 

“Where will we watch TV?” you ask. 

“Here?” Roan suggests. 

Eddie nudges Wayne in the side. “Looks like I'm moving back in after all.” 

Coats are taken off, shoes stacked in a corner. Wayne makes everyone a cup of coffee and a sandwich, even Roan, though her coffee is milk with just a splash of coffee that she begs for but doesn't touch after the initial sip. Theories for where they might house and care for a pet turtle are shared through crumbs and foam moustaches, Wayne with a lap full of grandchild, and you with an armful of Eddie. He keeps turning to you to scan your face for signs of fatigue or sickness, eyes lingering, his hand resting and rubbing at the top of your thigh. 

“We'll have to give up our room,” he suggests to you with an air of defeat. Despite his sombre tone, love lines his gaze. “When the turtle gets huge and wants to go back to the ocean, we'll have to fill our bedroom up with a swimming pool.” 

Roan sits back guiltily. “Well, maybe not like that. Can the turtle sleep with me?” 

“That could be fun. We'll get you a water bed,” you say, to Eddie's delight. He chokes on a handful of chips and needs to be whacked on the back lest he asphyxiate, and while you're still laughing at your own joke and his reaction, you pat him more gently on the back before passing him your full coke. “Here, handsome.” 

Wayne's pretty sure his nephew's found his soulmate. “What about a tortoise instead?” he asks Roan, attempting to spare you both. 

Roan pouts at her Uncle, confusion furrowing her thin brows. “What's the difference?” 

“Couple hundred dollars?” Eddie asks. 

Wayne kicks him under the table, but never hard enough to hurt. “Nothing much, chick. I'm sure Santa will figure it out.” 

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddiemicrofic pop-up challenge. Happy Birthday, @wynnyfryd!

Flying High

Bonus Prompt: Bottom | Word Count: 345 | Rating: T | CW: Sexual Innuendo | Tags: Athletic Steve, Showing Off, Cheerleading Moves, Flirting, Silly Fluff, The Party/Kids, Banter

"This seems unwise," Dustin says, hands on his hips. Mimicking, mocking Steve.

"Agreed," Mike says, "Eddie, you're gonna break your neck."

"Definitely gonna break his neck," Lucas and Erica say at the same time.

"He's not gonna break his neck! That's what you're here for, to be spotters!" Steve snaps, annoyed.

"Um, can we really trust them?" Eddie asks, "They aren't exactly athletic."

"Oh, I'm fully aware that I'm the only one here with any hand-eye coordination," Steve says, bitchy.

"Hey!" Lucas argues.

"Obviously not you," Steve backpedals. 

"Just, you sure you can do this, Harrington?" Eddie asks, standing with one foot in the basket of Steve's hands, his hands gripping Steve's shoulders.

"Only if you trust me," Steve answers, holding his foot. This will never, ever work if Eddie isn't all in. 

"I trust you," Eddie says.

"Great," Steve answers, "ready?"

Eddie nods.

Steve gives Eddie no time to chicken out, "One, two, three…"

And he pushes Eddie upwards, twisting him on his hands, holding him, shoulder-level.

"Squeeze your ass!" Steve snaps.

"You squeeze my ass!" Eddie snarks back, but he does it, tightens up, Steve can feel him getting lighter, and he then pushes Eddie on up into the air, by sheer force. Eddie's not helping him like all the girls he used to do this with, would. 

Steve extends both arms, gripping Eddie's shoes, secure and sturdy. If Eddie had a skirt on, Steve would be looking up it right now.

"Whoa," El says.

"Damn," Max agrees.

Eddie is far above Steve's head, giggling. It's a great sound, but Steve has to put all his energy into not dropping Eddie on his head. Like he promised he wouldn't.

Steve's arms start to shake. It's hard to maintain for very long.

"You're a great bottom!" Eddie yells.

"I'm a base, not a bottom!" Steve yells back, slightly out of breath.

"We'll see about that," Eddie mutters under his breath. 

Steve hears him, but he hopes the kids didn't, as they fight over who's gonna catch Eddie, suddenly serious about not breaking his neck.

How it started, then they keep doing it until they are doing this in no time! 👏🤣

And I really needed a few hundred more words for this goofy shit. Whittling it down was harder than writing it, haha.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

[rogueddie]

Peppermint Heartache T | 734 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is the tea he brings me without prompt when I’m sick

Eddie isn't sure the last time he was sick, but he's sure that it didn't feel like this.

"You sure you're ok, kid?" Wayne asks, hovering in his doorway.

"Yeah, 'm'kay," Eddie manages to mumble out. He struggles to raise an arm, giving him a weak thumbs up.

"Alright," Wayne relents, but Eddie can hear how little his attempt has done to reassure him. "I'll try to get home as early as I can. Make you some nice soup. Sound good?"

"Sounds great."

After he hears the door click shut behind Wayne, he's not sure how much time passes. He stays where he is, slipping in and out of a light doze.

The light knocking at the door startles him awake, though it's soft and quiet enough that it doesn't pound in his head.

He plans on ignoring them, but they knock again after waiting for a moment.

Pulling his bed sheets around him, tucking it up to his chin, he shuffles out. He squints at the light when he cracks the door open, frowning.

"Steve?"

"Hi Ed," he says, speaking softly. He raises the tupperware he's holding. "Heard you weren't feeling well so I made you some broth."

"Wayne sent you?" Eddie asks, stepping back so Steve can come inside.

"Yeah. He's really worried about you." Steve pauses, stepping closer and pressing his hand to Eddies forehead. "Do you have any, like, medicine? Some tylenol? You're too warm."

He tries to explain where it is, but he's interrupted by a yawn. He's not sure that Steve understands him for a moment, until he's being gently herded to the bathroom.

Steve quickly closes the toilet lid so Eddie can sit, before rooting through the bathroom cabinet.

"Aha!" He says, pulling out a bottle. He shakes it, frowning when only one tablet rattles inside it. "Damn. I'll need to grab you another bottle. Hopefully this one will be enough. Should I grab you a glass of-"

"No, it's fine," Eddie mutters, grabbing the tablet and swallowing it dry.

"Gross. Anyway, how are you feeling? Do you want some food now? Or, like, Wayne said you have chicken soup if you'd prefer that- I just... broth always makes me feel better when I'm sick. Or I could-"

"Steve. All I want to do is lay back down for a while. Maybe have some company, if you're not busy. Sound good?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Steve sighs, smiling sheepishly. "Should we-"

Eddie is already up, shuffling back to his bed. He flops onto it, curling onto his side. He grumbles when Steve starts to tuck in the sheets, but makes no move to stop him.

He ends up completely cocooned, the only his face sticking out.

Steve sits on the floor, back to the wall. "Do you want me to be quiet?"

"Uh, yeah, kinda. Love the Buckley style rambling but, um... I don't know. I don't like being alone when I feel like this."

"No, I get that. I'm happy to sit here and make sure you're ok, don't worry. I'm comfortable."

"If you're sure..."

"I am."

With Steve sitting guard, it's easy to finally fall asleep. And, by the time he wakes back up, he's already starting to feel better. He feels well rested, at least.

He notices Steves absence immediately, finally crawling out his cocoon to go looking for him.

"What are you doing up?" Steve asks, when Eddie finally finds him in the kitchen. "Go, I'll be back in a moment, you need to rest."

Eddie, rolling his eyes, does what he asks. Though he does grumble complaints under his breath the whole way back.

"You couldn't wait five minutes," Steve continues, when he finally comes back to Eddies room, holding a steaming mug and bowl. "Here, I cooked your broth and made you some tea."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Wayne says hi, by the way. He's probably going to be late coming home, too, so I'm stuck here babysitting."

Eddies about to make a comment, when he finally gets a whiff of the tea. He takes a sip to confirm it.

"Is this peppermint?"

"Yeah. You said you like it."

"I didn't think you'd remember."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You can't keep doing this, Steve, I'll fall in love with you."

Steve laughs, ducking his head, cheeks flushing. When he looks up, smirking, a glint in his eyes, Eddie knows he's already doomed.

"Promise?"

[wheneverfeasible]

Ruin Me (part 1)

wc: 2.2k || rating: M (for now) || summary: Steve shows up on Eddie’s doorstep with an unpredictable offer. || tags: omegaverse, alpha!Eddie Munson, omega!Steve Harrington, intersex omegas (see ao3 for full tags) || posted in full on ao3

Also, special shoutout to @lexirosewrites for getting me back into omegaverse and inspiring me to write intersex omegas for the first time. If you haven’t read any of her stuff, you’re missing out!

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑

The pounding of the trailer door alost wasn’t heard over the loud crack of thunder that accompanied the lightning flash from a few moments earlier. It was pissing cats and dogs outside, or at least that’s what Uncle Wayne had called it before he left for work an hour ago, Eddie anxiously watching the red lights of his truck as his uncle disappeared into the gloom.

With a frown, his eyes casting about for any sort of potential weapon since he wasn’t expecting anyone at the trailer, Eddie softly huffed at his paranoia and carefully eased the front door open to whoever was banging on the outside. He didn’t typically do his deals out of the trailer, not wanting to bring that shit home to Wayne even though the older man knew what he got up to, but he also hadn’t caused any trouble lately (that he knew of at least), so he was at a loss for who would brave the weather at this time of night for little old him.

Maybe one of the trailer park residents needed help with their generator or something. Usually Wayne was called on for that sort of shit, no one wanting to deal with his troubled nephew, but if it was a dire situation, then it wouldn’t be the first time he’d helped out some of the other families nearby. Their power seemed perfectly fine, however, so he didn’t think a blackout was an issue. Still, it made far more sense than…

Steve Harrington.

Eddie blinked at the completely waterlogged figure standing on the front steps of the Munson trailer, the younger boy looking more akin to a wet dog than was typical as his normally bouffant hair was all but plastered to his skull under the pouring rain. Without wind, the thick droplets were coming down in a heavy sheet, nearly obscuring the sight of Harrington’s fancy car parked behind him in the dark. The weak light from the bulb next to the door cast Harrington in a waxy hue, though it easily picked up the way the guy was shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Another sharp flash of light pierced the sky, causing Eddie to rear back slightly at the sudden whiteness everywhere, though he didn’t miss the way that Harrington jumped like a startled cat at the next accompanying boom of thunder. Harrington opened his mouth to say something, but Eddie could barely hear it over the pouring rain hitting the gravel and dirt outside, much less the metal of the trailer roof.

Letting out another huff, knowing he had no other option (besides slamming the door in Harrington’s face and pretending this never happened), Eddie stepped back and aside with a mocking sweep of his arm to invite the former king of Hawkins High inside. Harrington hesitated however, and Eddie was certain he’d be stenched with revulsion at entering the shabby home of the town’s resident teenage drug dealer, but the pouring rain downed every other scent out.

Baring his teeth, Eddie pointed a little more sharply inside before rolling his eyes as Harrington only widened his eyes slightly and took a step back. Whatever the fuck. Eddie didn’t need to play chicken with Harrington if all people, so he made to slam the front door again and forget this whole thing, only Harrington’s hand shot out at the last moment and prevented Eddie from completing the movement. Eddie’s hackles rose, a growl building low in his throat.

He knew he couldn’t swing on the guy if he wanted to cause trouble. Sure, Eddie was an alpha and though he never fought back when Harrington’s cronies jumped him or the other freaks, he knew he could hold his own in a fight. At least a fight against someone like Harrington, an omega whose only claim to a bit of fisticuffs was getting his ass handed to him by that Byers kid last year and more recently that new alpha in town, Hargrove. Eddie was sorry to have missed it.

However, Harrington was a, well, a Harrington. His rich daddy and socialite mommy had this whole town eating out of their hands, and the name Harrington held significant weight. Maybe not quite town royalty or whatever, but they had presence, a certain gravitas, and Eddie was trailer trash and son of a criminal. He was a Munson. For many in this godforsaken town, that translated to the lowest of the low.

So no, while Eddie probably could beat this asshole bloody if it came to that, he also couldn’t. Not if he didn’t want the cops sent after him, or possibly even cause Wayne to lose his job if the Harrington pricks wanted to be vindictive. He figured that would be a given too if it got out just who gave Harrington another black eye. He wasn’t like Byers or Hargrove; he wouldn’t have anyone the town considered noteworthy standing in his corner if Harrington wanted to press charges.

Harrington didn’t look like he wanted to cause trouble though. No, his big brown eyes were wide and anxious, and suddenly Eddie didn’t think his shivering had to do entirely with being soaked in cold rain. Which he was still in, the slight overhang of the roof at the front steps doing nothing to shield the guy from the downpour. Though Eddie couldn’t make out his words over the raucous, he could just about read the single word Harrington spoke with slightly purple-tinged lips: “Please.”

Now, Eddie wasn’t the sort of alpha to fall all over himself to please any pretty omega who batted their lashes at him. He didn’t give a shit about what society viewed traditional roles to be, for either the first or secondary genders, or the hierarchy of such things. Let girls do what they want, let omegas do what they want, and Jesus H. Christ, let boys and alphas and everyone else do what they want as well. What was between someone’s legs shouldn’t equate to their worth or anything like that.

And those alphas who postured for simpering omegas? Ridiculous. Just because he was an alpha didn’t mean he had to compete for an omega’s affections or do his best to try to knot one. He didn’t give a shit about pheromones or biology or anything else.

Yet, seeing Harrington like this, nervous and scared and pleading with those big brown eyes of his, well…Eddie was only human.

Suppressing a sigh, Eddie held the door open wide and ushered Harrington in, who cast Eddie only one last mildly alarmed look before he hunched his shoulders up and shuffled into the trailer. Trailing a veritable pool of water in his wake. Rolling his eyes with a grumble, Eddie finally shut the door, muffling the sound of the pouring rain finally. Enough to be able to actually hear Harrington without having to yell, though the drumming on the trailer roof didn’t sound like it was going to let up any time soon.

“Just…” Eddie sighed out, still not knowing why Steve Harrington was at his trailer looking like that, but like hell was he going to let the dickwad get water everywhere. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Was it drugs? Did Harrington want drugs? Couldn’t the guy wait until Monday at school like everyone else? Though, he supposed since it was Saturday tomorrow the jerk could want some for the weekend, especially if there was a party, but this was super last minute! Eddie was definitely adding a surcharge if that’s what this was.

And really, he didn’t know what else it could be.

He didn’t bother to question how Harrington knew where he lived. It was Hawkins. Everyone knew where everyone lived. He was just thankful that the assholes at school had never tried much of anything to the trailer, though that was probably because of Wayne and the shotgun shells he left around to deter anyone dumb enough to try anything.

Snatching a towel from the hall cupboard, he turned back around to find Harrington standing in the same exact spot as he had been before. When Eddie told him not to move. He withheld a snort at that, not having expected the guy to actually listen. Even as it was, he could tell that Harrington was taking stock of his surroundings, no doubt sneering at the way peasants lived.

Though, when Eddie whistled to gain his attention and caused the other boy to turn to look at him, there was no trace of derision to be found. Harrington was still shivering though, his teeth now lightly chattering at the (only slightly) warmer temperature inside the trailer.

“Here,” he said, tossing the towel at Harrington who easily caught it, trembling and all.

“Th-thanks,” Harrington said, and he also looked genuinely grateful, using the towel to wipe off his face and then gently scrunch at his hair. It looked a mess, whatever product left in it making it look almost worse than before, clumping in sections and flat in others. He then took to carefully rubbing the towel over his body, grimacing at the sodden state of his clothing.

Eddie watched with a neutral, blank expression, crossing his arms over his chest as he finally took in Harrington’s clothing. He wasn’t wearing a jacket at all, just a burgundy Henley that clung to his form in its wet state, paired with some khaki trousers and some sort of loafer dress shoe. Minus the wet dog appearance, he was certainly far better dressed than Eddie’s own stretched and faded band shirt and holey jeans.

Then again, it wasn’t like Eddie had been expecting company that night.

More annoying than anything, however, was that Harrington’s natural scent was starting to show through. Eddie thought biological imperatives were stupid, of course, and had no qualms about sleeping with any gender or secondary gender, but he couldn’t deny that there was something about omegas that just smelled all that more…sweeter.

And Edward Munson was notorious for having a sweet tooth.

Harrington had a disgustingly (deliciously) sweet scent, though there was also something spiced to it, something almost acidic that only complemented the sweetness, enhancing it, making it all the more aggravating (appealing). Now, however…

Eddie’s nose wrinkled slightly as the sour notes of distress wafted off Harrington, a little subdued maybe as he focused on drying himself, but it was obvious something had sent him running straight to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie took a small sniff of the air, seeking out the tell-tale signs of pre-heat. It was the only sort of thing Eddie could figure would cause Harrington to seek him out so suddenly and desperately in this weather, since it was more than just recreational drugs that he provided. The government, especially in rural Indiana, held certain beliefs about the availability of suppressants and birth control.

It wouldn’t be the first time Eddie provided an omega with such things when they couldn’t get it elsewhere. He also sold rut suppressants as well, though those were less sought after, and why would they be when so many believed it was an alpha’s god-given right to rut and take without question? Omegas, however…

Omegas were sluts if they took advantage of their heats while unmated. Can’t give them suppressants, though, because it was their duty to present to an alpha and be claimed as soon as they were of pup-bearing age. And forget about birth control. Omegas were often only seen as good for two things, and the first thing always led to the other.

It sickened Eddie more than anything, so while he had to make some sort of profit, he also frequently cut the price on the medicinal shit and hijacked the price on the recreational to cover any loss. People like Harrington, however, who could afford that shit at full price easily, well…it helped the less fortunate if he paid in full for it, didn’t it?

“Why are you here, Harrington?” Eddie finally asked after another crash of thunder, arms crossed over his chest, mentally counting his stores of whatever sort of drug the asshole could want. Percocet? Molly? A little politician’s sugar? Or did he want the omega shit after all?

Harrington looked up at that from where he was trying to dab at his socks peeking out of his shoes, straightening as He looked at Eddie with widened eyes again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he thickly swallowed.

That sour scent started seeping out of him again, but then he shuddered slightly and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he seemed to orient himself. The stench of distressed omega ebbed a little, and then he opened his eyes to stare directly into Eddie’s own with a confidence more befitting the traditional idea of an alpha.

“I want you to ruin me.”

next

🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑 🎸👑

Here’s the first part (more of a preview than anything) of the long awaited fic I’ve been teasing for a while. The fic is fully completed on ao3, but will be posted in parts here on tumblr with some added commentary on the bottom.

Next part should be posted this Sunday!

If you would like to be added to the tag list or removed from it once this part is live, just let me know!

Tag List:

@derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @amerikanskaya-krassavitsa @scoops-aboy86

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 12: Love is... The tea he brings me without prompt when I’m sick (Prompt by anon)

wc: 740 | Rated: G | cw: None

Tags: Sick Fic, Eddie is Being a Total Shit, Wayne Munson, Care Giving Steve Harrington

A Case of the Sniffles

Steve knows that Eddie is sick when he knocks on the Munson’s door, its accompanying flyscreen rattling under his knuckles.

“I’ve grown weak during the night,” Eddie had informed during a too-early-for-the-both-of-them phone call, “Come quickly, my dearest King. For I fear I shan’t make it to sundown.”

But, considering the expression Wayne greets him with, Steve begins to think that Eddie’s dramatics weren’t just a ploy to get him over here.

“You visitin’ Ed?” Wayne asks, throwing his work jacket over his shoulder in haste as he steps over the threshold.

“He called me,” Steve supplies, earning the rarest of laughs from the permanently grumpy elder Munson.

But Wayne quickly stops, clearing his throat and feigning seriousness. And by the look of the hurried glance he gives his truck, Steve suspects the man is happy to be relieved of caring for what sounds like the world’s biggest crybaby.

“Good luck, kid,” Wayne says, patting Steve on the back before quickly ducking his head back in the door, “Eddie! Steve’s here for ya! There’s chicken soup leftover in the fridge!”

There’s an unintelligible whining sound from inside that leaves Wayne wincing as he ventures down the front concrete slab steps.

Steve swears the man dashes to his truck before he can even get out a goodbye.

He heads inside, sighing as he opens the front door.

It creeks away as he steps over the threshold, the sound alerting Eddie to his presence. His boyfriend's dishevelled form lifts slightly from his sick bed on the couch where he is surrounded by tissues and crochet blankets. The coffee table is even more crowded than usual, littered with discarded cups and mugs. Typically Wayne would flip out about this mess but he’s already left the place for dust.

“Steve,” Eddie rasps, raising a limp hand before letting it fall, “Come closer. I fear the light is fading.”

But Steve just snorts a laugh and heads for the kitchen.

“Eds, you have a bad case of the sniffles.”

“I am ill!” Eddie argues, calling after him with complete clarity.

He looks back to find his couch-ridden boyfriend flapping back his blanket, sending a cascade of used tissues flying onto the floor. Eddie pouts, frowning back at him like a disgruntled kitten.

“Just…” Steve begins, reaching for a clean coffee mug on the dish rack, “Give me a minute to fix you something.”

“What is it?”

Again, Eddie’s voice doesn’t have an ounce of sickness behind it.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Just trust me, okay?”

There’s a fussy grunt but Eddie flops back down on the couch without any more protesting, which thankfully gives Steve enough time to locate the teabags, boil the electric kettle and add a dollop of honey to the mug. He makes quick work of fixing a cup of tea, setting it down after making room on the coffee table.

“Drink,” he commands, nodding to the cup.

Eddie grumbles, side-eyeing the mug.

“What is it?” he asks tentatively, folding his arms underneath his readjusted blankets.

“Tea with honey,” Steve explains, lowering onto the edge of the couch.

Eddie falls silent for a long moment, very obviously stifling a smile despite otherwise not looking like he is about to budge an inch to sit up.

“Can you hold the mug for me?” he asks, with a smile that appears just as mischievous as his bright and sunny regular self.

“Fine,” Steve relents.

And honestly? Up close, Eddie does look sick. Though still not enough to warrant the theatrics.

His skin is paler than usual, his nose reddened like he has been out in the snow too long. His hair is a little greasy too as his bangs stick out every which way, making him look like what Steve assumes the townsfolk of Hawkins were thinking of months back when everyone was convinced Eddie was a wild criminal.

They just never got a look at Eddie's impossibly cute dimples...

Steve picks up the mug and gestures for Eddie to sit – surely he can manage it. And his partner does so, even though he grumbles and gripes all the way.

Eddie gulps back god knows what, all gross and throaty before puckering his lips.

“Kisses?” he requests, sniffling.

“Alright,” Steve shrugs.

He leans forward to press a quick kiss to his boyfriend's lips, earning a contented hum as he pulls back.

“Thanks for the tea,” Eddie smiles, taking the mug in his cold hands.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 3

Part 2

The comfort is here! This is just a morsel of the Nancy chapter, which means even MORE comfort with a pinch of angst.

~~~

It took a few weeks after Max and Lucas’s surprise visit for Eddie to work up enough courage to fly to Boston to knock on his sister's door-- technically sister from another mister, but he doesn't think that matters much.

Nancy's always believed in him, encouraged him to follow his passions no matter where it took him. Because even if you try and fail, Eddie, then at least you tried, and she’d always be there to catch him. In this case, maybe his passions took him a little too far.

It’s been almost eight months since they’ve talked, and he’s worried she won’t be there this time. Nancy is the fiercest person he knows, ready to stand up for what’s right regardless of the consequences. Hell, it’s what made her such a successful journalist. 

Which is why he’s worried he’ll buckle under the same scrutiny. This isn't a little mistake she can lecture away. Eddie has well and truly fucked up. If he could barely get through conversations with Robin and Max and Lucas, he has no idea how to navigate a conversation with Nancy Wheeler when she wants answers.

Before he can chicken out, the door’s ripped open by the woman herself. She’s different than he remembers. Her hair’s grown out, long and straight without her signature perm. The light pink pajama pants and matching pink slippers soften her edges. She looks good, aside from the bloodshot eyes.

This counts the fourth time Eddie’s ever seen Nancy cry: her freshman year when their cat died, a particularly nasty blow out between her and Mike before she moved for college, and two years ago when Jonathan finally proposed– happy tears, thankfully.

Now she’s standing here, staring at him through red-rimmed eyes and drowning in an oversized Corroded Coffin crewneck. He’s absolutely gutted at the sight. Only the fourth time she’s ever cried, and it’s his fault.

Another hard reminder of his many mistakes.

“Nance, please, can we talk?” He doesn’t know what to say that’ll fix it, but he has to try, she’s too important not to.

She suddenly throws herself at him, practically choking him with the grip of her arms around his neck, and for a moment he thinks she’s about to fight him. But her hand’s cradling the back of his head, and her other’s fisted in the back of his jacket. 

Nancy clings to him and shoves her nose into the crook of his neck. He wraps her up in a fierce hug in return, holding her as she shakes against him.

“Edward James Munson,” she says, forcing the words out around the tears, “I am so, so fucking mad at you.” Nancy lets go of his shirt just to emphasize her point by socking him in the shoulder. Only to grab at him again, like he’ll disappear if she lets go.

“I know, Nancy. I’m sorry.”

She coughs, and Eddie can feel where her tears have soaked his hair through, sticking it uncomfortably to his neck. “I missed you so much.”

He lets out a ragged sigh of relief. She still loves him, even after everything he’s done. Nancy Wheeler is too good for him– the whole world, really– but especially him. He doesn’t deserve someone like her, a sister like her, but he’s also selfish. So he holds onto her tighter, hoping that when he lets go she doesn’t change her mind

She leans out of his grasp to look him in the eye. He doesn’t know what she finds, but Nancy eyes are soft around the edges, filled with love, and she shoves his shoulder again. Not hard though, so she laughs when he dramatically falls backwards clutching his afflicted arm to his chest. He moans and groans, bottom lip jutted out in a firm pout as he bats his eyes at her, waiting for an apology.

“You’re such an asshole,” she says, but she’s smiling at him now and holding out her hand to help him up. He takes it, of course he does. Eddie relaxes, knowing that even though it's his fault she's cried, Nancy Wheeler will always be there to catch him whem he falls- metaphorically at least.

~~~

Part 4

[torakowalski]

Swimmer Steve - Part 11

And we're back! Where have I been? No clue. Well I've been right here but my ability to make words has... not. So we're starting slow, easing into it and hoping they don't notice me creeping up on them.

(part one | part ten)

Steve's part of the Olympics lasts six days, then he turns up at Eddie's door, lays his three(!) medals down on Eddie's dresser, crawls into Eddie's bed and falls asleep for ten hours.

He wakes up, eats some fried chicken that Eddie went out to buy, then goes back to sleep for another four hours.

Eddie, usually never ever able to stay still, discovers that lying on his belly next to Steve, watching him snore softly is way more soothing than any of the herbal teas Wayne likes to press on him.

"Morning," Steve says, blinking sleepily at him at like, ten at night.

"Morning, doll," Eddie says. "Sleep well?"

Steve yawns. "Hm, kept dreaming I was at the Olympics." He blinks around himself, exageratedly. "Well, what do you know?"

He looks so sleepy and smug that there's nothing Eddie can do but scoot over and kiss him. Steve makes a happy noise and hooks an arm around Eddie's neck, pulling him closer.

Steve stripped down to just his boxers before he fell asleep the first time, so Eddie's got nothing but smooth, hot skin under his hands. He still mourns Steve's chest hair, but maybe Steve can grow it for a while now and Eddie will get to experience it, at last.

"Did I dream it, or did we have the best friend chicken ever, at some point?" Steve asks.

Eddie would be more offended that Steve's thinking about food while Eddie's making out with him, but the poor guy has been living the high protein, low carb training diet for way too long now.

"You didn't dream it, but it was only maybe the third best fried chicken I've had here."

Steve's eyes light up when he grins. "You've gotta take me sightseeing before we go home. I want to see everything you've seen and eat everything you've eaten."

"Then your wish shall be granted, good sir," Eddie promises.

"Yeah, talk nerd to me," Steve says and hauls Eddie into another kiss, which Eddie happily gives him until Steve bites his lip, pulls back, and says, "Hang on, I need to piss."

Eddie laughs, rolling off him and flopping backwards onto the bed. "That the kind of romantic way you speak to all the girls, Harrington?"

"No," Steve says. "But I don't feel like I've gotta pretend with you."

Well shit, Eddie thinks, as Steve climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. Who knew Steve was gonna be sincere?

He lies on his back, watching Steve's ass unashamedly as he makes his way to the bathroom. He leaves the door half ajar, while he's peeing, because first and foremost: jock.

"I'm gonna shower," Steve calls. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie feels a laugh punch out of his chest. Hell yes, he wants to join him, but he's pretty sure Steve's joking.

Then he remembers that, wait, Steve doesn't have to worry about the Olympics sex curse anymore. Maybe he does mean it. Eddie's half way to sitting up, when Steve pops back into the room.

"No?"

"... Can't tell if you're teasing me," Eddie admits.

Steve looks at him then looks over at the dressing table. "Remember what you said the first time we kissed?"

"Was it oh my god, am I dreaming?" Eddie asks, racking his brain to try to work out what it actually was.

Steve grins at him. "You said you'd shower with me, if I brought home a gold medal." He reaches over and picks up the one gold, sitting it between his two bronzes. He takes a second, seeming just to need to look at it, then holds it up. "I know it was for a relay so I only won like, a quarter of it. But does this count?"

Holy fuck, Steve does mean it. Eddie always gets a little hard when they make out, but now he's hard hard and it maybe robs him of his ability to breathe. Or to answer questions.

Steve grin starts to fade. "But totally no pressure," he says, hand curling tight around his medal. "Sorry. Stupid joke, or well, not a -"

Eddie rolls up onto his knees and holds his hands out demandingly. "Give me my prize, Harrington."

Still with that half-grin only, Steve's eyebrows draw together and he lifts up the medal like a question.

Eddie nods. He can breathe now, but it's coming fast, and he feels hot all over.

Steve steps forward and loops the ribbon around Eddie's neck, murmuring, "Congratulations," like Eddie really is winning a gold here. Let's be reasonable though, if this is going the way Eddie thinks it's going, he definitely is the one who's winning.

[briarberrythornedhart]

Eddie Casts Song of Restoration

Content: Sick hurt/Comfort, innuendo and flirting, reader described as having breasts, reader has never heard of Vic’s vapor rub going on your feets 😅. I know, that’s gonna ruin this for some of us. Just pretend with me.

🦇 ♥️ 🦇 🎸 🦇 💀 🦇 🎸 🦇 ♥️ 🦇

You’d been together for 19 days and 6 hours when you caught the flu.

You told Eddie to stay away from your house until you were well, but Eddie is not exactly stellar at following orders.

It was the fatigue that was the worst and you didn’t want to ever see Eddie as listless as you felt. You liked it best when he was revved up and bouncing around like a coiled spring.

He was very bouncy right now.

“Orange juice, check. Ginger ale, check. Chicken soup and crackers. Check Check. More tissues - the Good Ones.” Eddie said, plopping his purchases onto the counter. “Vapor rub which Uncle Wayne says cures what ails ya’. And Of course - movies for distraction purposes. Plus me, as a bonus distraction.” He bowed to you, but he was the opposite of humble.

“Babe, didn’t want you to get sick.” You said weakly. “Didn’t Dustin tell you I said to stay away?”

You clutched the afghan around you and shuffled further away as if a few measly feet would protect your beloved from the plague you carried.

What you needed was hazmat suits, then you could hug him safely. You wanted to hold him so badly.

Eddie cocked his head and licked a canine. “You ever known me to do what that little shrimp says? Also, I knew you needed me.” He held out his arms to catch you up in them, but a sudden sneeze caught you without tissue in hand and slightly green goop was now dripping from your nose

“Awwww gross…” you complained and begged him. “Don’t look at me, I’m so disgusting.”

Eddie laughed, not cruelly, “Sweetheart, where is all that ectoplasm coming from??” He brought his bandana up to wipe your face off, ignoring your complaints that it would need to be BURNED afterwards. “Listen, you are not gross. It’s just snot. You are as gorgeous as ever, and I loooove the outfit.” He had clocked that you were wearing a Megadeth shirt and just underwear underneath your your afghan ‘cloak’. His voice dropped an octave - you felt it rumble in your ears. “That’s my shirt...Don’t you know what that does to me…?” sliding his warm hands under the afghan to meet your thighs.

You felt the traitorous cough building in your chest and couldn’t stop it no matter how hard you tried. It bent you double. It sounded atrocious.

“Whoa-whoa, hey, I’m sorry, I won’t molest you while you're sick, don’t cough up a lung on me.” Eddie slung an arm around your shoulder and led you back to the couch.

“You would… if I wasn’t sick, though?” You asked glumly, “You’d molest me to my heart’s content?”

Eddie did a double take at that, and then chuckled in his best demonic manner, “Say the word and you’ll be thoroughly molested, good and proper. Soon as you want it.” Quixotically changing tone to be sweet again, his doe-eyes soft and concerned. “Do you wanna lay down, or prop up against me?”

“Can’t lay down, get too stuffy.” You sniffed, a bit pathetically.

“Okay, sit here, imma put on the first movie and then we can cuddle up.” Eddie popped open a white clamshell VHS case. “You said you loved Muppet movies, Robin suggested I get you ‘Hey Cinderella’ - and ‘The Frog Prince’ - both are Muppety versions.”

“I think you might be the sweetest boyfriend in the whole world.”

“I know, right?…and now…” he unscrewed the cap of vapor rub, “to put this mentholated greasy shit…sorry... stuff.. on your feet.”

“What? Vapor rub is…chest…stuff. Chest rub. For chests??”

“Wayne said he puts it on his feet when he has a cold - said he did that for me when I was a toddler.” Eddie suddenly looked at you with a little smirk, “Dooooo youuuu want me to rub this on your chest? All over it? Cause that’s the kinda sweet boyfriend I am, I will do that, for you, if you want?” He licked his upper lip, face all mischievous.

He was a good distraction. “Yeah, well... when they say ‘chest’ they mean upper chest,” You patted just below your neck. “... not these.” You cupped your breasts at him.

His eyes widened and so did his smirk. “Show me again, I’m confused. Where doesn’t it go??” He scootched closer.

You tsked your tongue. “Actually what would be best - is if I rubbed this on your chest and stomach - and then laid my head on you. Like a big warm sexy healing pillow.”

“I don’t want to be described as a pillow - but I’ll take the rest.”

He let you put the chest rub on him, only wrinkling his nose up until you started massaging it in (avoiding his nipples), then you sent Eddie shivering into a little body-roll of pleasure as you drifted your hands down to his naval.

“Your hands feel s-s-so good... go lower??” His voice broke slightly on the ask.

“I’m not sure this is okay to go on any sensitive skin - like - pretty sure crotch is a no-go, babe.”

Eddie sighed a laugh, “Whoops, I didn’t come over here to have you take care of me. C’mere.” He held out his arm so you could get as close as possible and lay your heavy head on his chest. He held you sweetly and watched your silly muppety movies and sang you some Led Zeppelin until you drifted off to sleep.

But it has to be said, that as soon as you felt better, you gave him a full body massage with body safe oil and it did not disappoint.

[steviewashere]

To Be So Mundane

Rating: General CW: Brief mention of Covid-19 (as this is set in 2021) Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Future Fic, Set in 2021, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Older Steddie, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, The Intimacy in a Bowl of Soup, Emotional Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Soft Eddie Munson, Soft Steve Harrington

Thought about finishing up the fourth chapter of my merman Steve fic. And then I got sidetracked, so here's this. Also, I don't know where they live or what Eddie does for work (maybe mechanic, if you feel so inclined to imagine him that way). Pick your flavor <3

🥣—————🥣 At the end of the day, Steve realizes it’s not the horror he’s experienced that will linger. Sure, they persist and he is frightened and he shakes sweating from it all. But when he comes home, exhausted to his core and sluggish to the soles of his feet, it’ll never be the agony he finds in his kitchen. It’s the warmth.

The sweet musk of vanilla bourbon candles bought from the home aisle of the neighborhood Walmart. A singular orange bulb in a second-hand floor lamp, tucked cozy by the couch, in the corner between the back door and the right armrest. Bookshelves of knick knacks and framed photos from 2003—when he finally tried the college route and graduated. The sprawl of mini-figure painting equipment on the coffee table: half-open paint jars that he closes up tight, still drying clean paint brushes, paper towels and yellowed newspaper, and magnifying goggles.

It’s to music. Soft crooning through the—now considered ancient—record player from 1988. Sometimes Jim Croce. Sometimes John Prine. Sometimes the goddess, Dolly Parton. Something familiar and nearly worn out from playing the records over and over and over. Tonight, it’s Jim. It’s coming back to the floating husking rasp of Eddie Munson’s fifty-five year old voice, not all that great but always sweet from by the stovetop.

To where Steve migrates, shoeless and briefcase free and his teacher’s badge hung up. Where soup simmers on the low heat—smelling of paprika and roasted carrots and chicken bouillon. The oven heating up a loaf of French bread, basted in garlic butter, sprinkled with shredded mozzarella cheese. Where Eddie stands, stirring and singing—his now silver hair pulled up into a bun, dressed down in a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants, and his scruff not shaved—he must’ve had a lazy day. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, his body warm and his tummy a little pudgier. Eddie hums, reaching down with a free hand to cover the back of Steve’s, squeezing. And Steve’ll never be used to their wedding rings clinking together.

“Long day?” Eddie murmurs low.

Steve grunts. Digs his chin into Eddie’s left shoulder. His glasses going crooked from the angle. Peers down at the bubbling pot of dinner. “Kids kept threatening to take their masks off. Nearly started a coughing fight,” he answers at the same volume. He sighs, long and genuine. “They’ve officially turned Covid-19 into classroom warfare. Whatever happened to spitballs and globs of food?”

Eddie chuckles deep in his chest. “Don’t give ‘em ideas, Stevie.” He smiles softly down at his cooking, dimples deep and smile lines deeper. Steve kisses under his left ear just because. Because he can. Because this is what the world is when it doesn’t end, thank god. The soup is stirred slowly for a few more beats. He scoops up a spoonful in their beat up ladle. It’s got a few char scars from when they first learned to cook meals for one another—Steve believes it’s from the time he forgot to turn off the stovetop when making macaroni and cheese. Lesson learned.

“Here, taste this for me, baby?” Eddie gently requests, holding the ladle to Steve’s face over his shoulder. Hand cupping the underside. Face turned slightly to try and make eye contact, he’ll give himself a knot if he does it too long. Steve knows, having given many massages over the last decade.

He leans forward slightly, accepting the soup as Eddie tilts the ladle. Makes an obnoxious slurp that Eddie snorts at. Smacks his lips and hums. “Ooo, that’s good,” Steve mutters close to Eddie’s ear. “Got a little kick to it. You put a little bit of that new chili oil?”

“Mm and chili flakes,” Eddie hums. “Thought it would pair nicely. Remember that chicken I began marinating last night?”

“The chicken you told me I couldn’t make for my lunch today?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, turning back to the soup pot, shutting the burner off. “I told you not to take it all,” he points out with pleasant tease. “Because you’ll do that if I don’t stop you. And then you come home and complain that your stomach hurts because you ate too much. And then I have to put you on bed rest for the night.”

“I’m not that bad—“

“Anyway,” Eddie cuts in. “I marinated it in this ginger, coconut sauce that I saw a few nights ago on uh…What’s that app that Robin’s always sending videos from?”

“The…The TickTick app?” Steve guesses.

Eddie snaps his fingers together. “Yeah! That app!” He exclaims softly. (They’ll learn later it’s definitely not that, but it doesn’t matter.) He shrugs Steve off to grab the bread from the oven. Steve just moves around to their bar countertop, not a complaint on his tongue. Eddie continues, “I also added a little bit of coconut milk to the base broth. So, hopefully, this’ll be good. With the leftovers, I was thinking you could make your cauliflower rice for lunch and put the soup on top? Only if it’s good, though. If this sucks, I’ll pay for pizza tonight.”

Steve laughs from his belly. “If you do, make sure to get the gluten free crust. Stupid stomach has been acting up again,” he says softly.

Standing up, Eddie hisses. “You’re lucky that the bakery section at the grocery store only had gluten free baguettes then,” he teases gently once more. He sets the finished bread on the countertop, grabs the bottle of chili oil from by the pot of soup, and drizzles it lightly overtop the cheesy, garlic goodness. When he finally dishes up their dinner, he settles next to Steve at the counter. Bowls and small plates of bread in front of them. Glasses of crappy Barefoot red wine, because this is what they can afford—and it doesn't really suck, not when it's served thoughtfully like it is tonight.

“Thank you, baby,” Steve murmurs. He leans in close to Eddie’s side, presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, and then promptly digs in.

And it’s good. Everything’s so good. Jim Croce is singing about time in a bottle. The soup is warm and fresh and homemade. Every light is a careful amber. He’s tired and happy and…complete.

Eddie’s got soup in the scruff under his lip. But Steve doesn’t say anything. Just admires the fine wrinkles and lines to his face, where they’ve begun to really deepen. Admires how his eyes are just as big and soft and expressive as they were thirty-five years ago after Vecna. Where his body is soft. His endearingly white hair.

How he’s alive.

“Hey, Eds?”

Immediately, Eddie looks onto him. Eyes wide with trepidation. The corners of his mouth pinched downward. “Is it not good? I can go get my wallet if it’s—“

Steve lays his hand on the back of Eddie’s forearm. The right one, closest to him, where scars swamp the bats. And that says something, too, he’s sure. About how Eddie fought the bats and came out victorious anyway. His thumb runs soothingly over Eddie’s malleable, aged, warm skin. And his eyes prickle with tears—it would’ve been embarrassing if he were nineteen still, but what a wonderful thing to be alive and cry at all.

“I’m so fucking happy you’re here with me,” Steve breathes out all at once. He sighs through his mouth, a gentle sob escaping.

Eddie drops his spoon into his bowl of slowly cooling soup. And he reaches up, dislodging Steve’s hand on his arm completely, cupping his face between his hands instead. “Oh, baby,” he coos. “Baby, are you alright? Where’s this coming from?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t know. Not really. But it’s here. And he’s got a therapist in the aftermath of everything, and feelings deserved to be felt—so they’ve said. “I just—“ He wetly exhales, leaning into Eddie’s soft hands. “—I don’t know. It’s so fucking…I’m so happy to just be boring. To do the same mundane things every single day. To just come home.”

“Oh,” Eddie coos again. He tugs Steve closer, burying his face into his shoulder. Pets a hand through Steve’s own white hair. A hand between his shoulders. Letting him dissolve safely. “I am, too, Steve,” he states like a promise. “You have no idea how my heart just soars in the morning when I look over and you’re…God, you’re drooling all over your own forearm and snuffling deep into the pillow and your hair is all spiky and you’ve got creases all over your face from going to war with the top sheet.” Steve chuckles just as Eddie pulls him back. Hands back on his cheeks, thumbs soothing tear tracks. “You have no idea how relieved I am to look over and see you at peace, sweetheart. Every day—I don’t know how you do it—but every day you let me discover a new part of you to love.”

They smile at one another, softly, eyes shiny with tears. Their soup is going cold, but it doesn’t matter. They’ve got all the time in the world to reheat it.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, states. Just because he can.

“I love you, too,” Eddie says immediately. Because it’s that easy.

It’s easy when life is nothing more than this.

🥣—————🥣

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | p. 5

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n -> This chapter goes along with the next. As promised, the second part will come out within the hour of this one being posted.

-> <-

September 1982

“I hate boys.”

You let yourself into the Munson household by using the spare key "hidden" underneath the 'Welcome' mat on their front porch. It's become a little habit of yours to barge into their home.

Wayne sits on the couch with the television on far too loud for anyone with a normal hearing range. Unfortunately for him, Eddie has left him nearly deaf with all of that noise coming from his room. It would have been a quiet evening by himself with Eddie out at band practice, but Wayne should know better by now that you'll show up like you live here.

When you plop down next to Wayne, he doesn't hesitate to offer the plate of food he's just dished up for himself. He wrestles with his age to get off the couch, then walks through the kitchen to find a new plate.

“Thanks,” you chew through a dry biscuit. Wayne says he likes the outside crispy, but you’re sure that he will be down to nothing but gums when these rocks break his teeth off soon.

Wayne rounds the kitchen island with a brand new plate of food for himself, and an extra napkin for you to hold under your chin. Although he knows very little about clothes, he can see the shine still on that new blouse of yours. He would hate to see you ruin it with some gravy and a bucket of fried chicken.

Wayne sits down again next to you, “Eddie isn’t here.”

You sniffle over the pile of mashed potatoes, “I know.”

Dressed up like you’ve got somewhere to go and you have no one to take you there, Wayne can make a guess of why you might be here.

“What happened?” Wayne nudges you.

You’ve got on the nicest pair of pants you own with a bright blue top and a pair of kitten heels. You’ve taken your mother’s jewelry, which Wayne is sure she’s not pleased about.

“Isn’t that your mom’s necklace?” Wayne asks dumbly.

You cross your arms. “Rodney ditched me.”

“Who?”

Kids these days and their drama. Wayne can hardly keep up with Eddie, and now he’s got you here crying on his couch. You’re hardly a bother anymore. It’s more bizarre when you’re not here eating his food, watching his television and napping on his couch.

“Rodney said we’d go out Friday at seven,” you tell Wayne. “It’s Friday. It’s eight. No Rodney.”

Wayne could not imagine disrespecting a young woman like that. You've got to be out of your mind if you think making a promise like that can just be tossed out of a window.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he pats your knee. “Want me to kick his ass?”

Wayne’s become a father figure to you in a way, since you don't have one. Your mom refuses to tell you anything about the man that got her knocked up. That's a direct quote from what she says. You're not being rude.

“No,” you let a soft laugh sneak past your sorrowed heart.

Wayne's television hums. You watch the wheel spin onto one hundred dollars, and the contestant cheers as she gets to guess another letter.

“Brook Shields,” you guess the answer.

Wayne cocks his head at you, “how did you get that so fast?”

You shrug, “I’ve seen Endless Love.”

“Endless- what?”

“Keep up old man,” you joke.

Wayne grunts, “not you too. I get enough of that shit from Eddie.”

You sit with Wayne that evening with dry eyes, except for the occasional tear falling from laughing a bit too hard at his bewildered expression when you fill in nearly all of the answers to the game show he loves so much.

“What are you going to do with that brain of yours?” Wayne asks as the program nears the end, and the screen begins to dim.

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know.”

“You’ll go to college though, won’t you?”

“I can hardly afford groceries,” you reply.

It is an honest answer. Your mom is out of a job, aside from her new night time prowling. She tries to sneak out while you’re tucked into your blankets in your bed. It doesn’t always pan out that way. You’ve heard the heels clicking in the kitchen, before she leaves into the night time.

She’s back before you wake up. And, she’ll take you off to school before she goes to bed for most of the morning. You can only assume this by the way she’s dressed in pajamas without any makeup when you come home.

Wayne watches from afar. Your mom has been stepping back in their friendship recently, and he wonders if everything is okay at home. When he does catch glimpses of her through the living room window, she's a bit gray and a bit dull. Her usual cherry cheeks are sunken. Her eyes are swollen. Her clothes are scandalous in her own definition.

A flood of headlights break through the blinds in the Munson trailer. If the lights aren’t enough to warn you that Eddie is about to plow through his front door, then the absolute deafening sound of bass and guitar blasting through the speakers in his van would give you enough of an inclining.

Kicking his boots off in different directions outside the home, Eddie stamps out his cigarette on the porch railing, and he flicks the nub somewhere into the night.

Dancing his way into the trailer, Eddie first catches you sitting next to Wayne in a bright blue get-up. Isn’t it a bit much to be that done up for some boy? Yes, he knows about Rudolph. That silly little boy from one of your classes. He’s been following you around like he’s got a leash tethered around that funny little sweater vest he wears to school. Really? A sweater vest? It’s a bit pompous if you ask him.

Randy has got to be the most snot-nosed booger-eater that Eddie has had the misery of meeting. He’s got these judgy little eyes that squint in Eddie’s direction any time you hang around him at lunch. Not to mention how bushy his eyebrows are. If you like caterpillars that much, Eddie can find you one around the trailer park that you’ll like much more than - what’s-his-name.

“How was your date?” Eddie hesitates to hold back to venom corroding his teeth. It’s silly to be jealous of some guy. Eventually you would be with someone, and Eddie would find his someone. It’s just strange to not have you at band practice. You haven’t missed a single one - well, now you have.

Your face falls at the mention of Rodney.

In the past few hours, you forgot about the ache in your chest that Rodney never showed at your front door. The absent sore on your heart reopens. Your throat closes a bit.

There was a pinch of hope that you held onto that he might show up with a reasonable excuse. Or, he’ll at least be bold enough to show up and to beg for a second chance. With the time approaching midnight, the odds are withering away into nothing.

“Good,” you fib.

Naively, you lie to Eddie.

“How was practice?” You ask secondly.

A spark lit his bottom on fire and he was bounding about the trailer like a wild animal. Excitement radiates off of his skin.

“You won’t believe what happened tonight!” He yells a bit too loudly for old Wayne, who wiggles his pinky into his ear. “We got a call back from the Hideout! They want to see us perform!”

“That’s great, Eddie!”

“Congratulations, kid.”

Wayne has to stand and clap Eddie on the back to congratulate his nephew. The pair of them look to each other adoringly, before either of them remember that you’re still there on the couch.

“I should go,” you know how late it is, and your mother - er - she would be shivering in worry by now. Probably. “I’m really proud of you, Eddie. Can I come to the show?”

“There’s no way I can perform without my best girl,” he wraps you in a strong hug, “Tuesday at seven! I want both of you there!”

“You got it,” you punch his chest a bit awkwardly.

When you do leave, Eddie takes the spot you once sat in on the couch. He switches programs because whatever game show Wayne is watching is not to Eddie’s taste. Eddie prefers something that will make his skin crawl.

“Ed,” Wayne clears his throat, “I think we should talk.”

“Talk?”

Wayne stands in front of the television blocking Eddie from flicking to yet another channel.

“Your little friend got stood up on her date,” he teeters back and forth, unsure if you want Eddie knowing this. But, you’re his best friend as far as Wayne is concerned.

Eddie frowns, “what?”

“She’s been with me all evening,” Wayne sighs. “The poor girl is rattled. I mean- you know you cannot do that to a woman, right?”

Wayne begins to turn everything into a lesson. As he lectures Eddie, the lines of reality begin to blur. You’ve been stood up by this douche? Nothing gets past Eddie like that. The ridges of his knuckles turn whiter than snow.

“Eddie,” Wayne scratches his forehead, “I need you to promise me that you’ll never treat a woman like that. You know better, right?”

Eddie hasn’t brought a girl by the house yet. It doesn’t occur to Wayne how horrible the people treat Eddie at school. He assumes it’s just a bit of play and a bit of teasing. Eddie can handle himself for the most part.

“Yeah,” Wayne snaps out of his head when Eddie finally speaks up, “I got it, Wayne.

-> <-

[Sep 1982 . . . again]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst

[whoelsehasthathair]

The Most Comfortable Place - George Weasley x Reader

George comforts you as you deal with a harsh breakup. Reader is a Ravenclaw. Also slight reference to my previous fic Come On George Weasley (which I never posted a part 2?) This has been sitting in my drafts for literally 4 years so it's probably shitty but i thought why not post it so here we are

As rain poured down the transparent walls of the Greenhouse 4, 5th year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors were getting ready for their Herbology class with Professor Sprout. Y/N got her usual place between George and Lyanne and put down her books on the table.

“Good evening class!” started Professor Sprout with her usual tone full of joy.

“Good evening Professor Sprout” said the class in chorus.

“Today we’re going to learn about Aconites.”

Y/N’s eyes shot wide open and a grin formed on her face. “I know about this” she whispered to George. “It’s used in Wolfsbane potion but it’s poisonous, so be careful.”

“Then I might slip some into Eddie’s pumpkin juice at dinner y’know” he whispered leaning over Y/N’s ear. It has been only a few weeks since Y/N had broken up with Eddie and George was still angry at him that he broke Y/N’s heart so badly. He realised that she wasn’t eating well nor sleeping well. He saw the joy in her eyes fading away, replaced by thoughtful, cold and blank stares. But that was when her mind wasn’t busy with classes. He had always loved the way her face lighted up and her eyes grew wider when something she knew was mentioned, the curious and hungry for information nature of her showing itself while extracting new information, how she put her whole focus on something she loved. In every class with Ravenclaws, he loved seeing her different than the times he saw her probably overthinking.

“Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t really mind it Georgie” Y/N giggled.

“Who here can tell me about the Aconite plant?” asked Professor Sprout. George looked at Y/N, she didn’t seem like she was gonna raise her hand so he decided to make a move. He grabbed her hand and under Y/N’s confused looks, raised it. Waving he shouted with a wide grin “Y/N would like to answer Professor!” Y/N was trying to lower her hand in shock but of course the best beater the Gryffindor quidditch team ever had was too strong for her and his grip tightened more as she tried.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N! Yes please.”

“Uhmmmm... It—It’s used in brewing Wolfsbane potion but it should be carefully concocted since aconite is a poisonous plant. It’s also known as Wolfsbane because of its use in this potion.” she spoke so quickly that she caused Professor Sprout to furrow her brows trying to catch her.

“Excellent Miss Y/L/N! 5 points to Ravenclaw.” Her fellow Ravenclaws grinned with amusement.

“Look” George whispered once again to her ear “Professor Sprout doesn’t bite.”

“I know she doesn’t bite you git” she nudged George’s arm

“I’m just trying to boost your confidence. Come on, be confident! You’re excellent and I’m sure you’re gonna nail your OWLs too.”

Y/N’s cheeks went red without her realising it and she gave George her classic “thank you” smile.

It was dinner time and the Great Hall was full of students chatting and eating. But Y/N wasn’t doing either of them. She was just staring at her plate as her fork aimlessly played with the roasted chicken and tart, sighing every 5 seconds trying to fight with her thoughts and trying to hold back the tears slowly starting to forming in her eyes. “Ain’t you eating Y/N?” asked one of her friends. “You love chicken and tart.” “Just not hungry” she murmured. She sighed once again and finally decided to leave the Great Hall. She quickly made her way to the library and sat down near a window. She let the tears fall from her cheeks. She pulled her knees to her stomach and buried her face as she let out a quite sob.

George left the Great Hall right after Y/N and followed her to the library. He watched her sit, curl up and start to sob quietly. That moment he promised himself he would make a deadly prank plan to play on Eddie with Fred and that time he wouldn’t be holding Fred back from his crazy ideas. He slowly approached to Y/N and sat at the table near her. “Would you mind if I sit here for a while?”

Y/N nodded. George pretended to study as he watched Y/N in complete silence. He didn’t want to do anything that would make Y/N uncomfortable. He knew she needed a little bit of loneliness at times like this, so he watched for the right time. When Y/N finally brought her head up and sniffled, he moved his chair next to hers. “Y/N, I-- I want you to know that even if that git doesn’t love you, there are still people who love you so much. Like your mom, your grandparents, Eleanora, Lyanne, April, Fred, I, professors, your little sister and cousins... We all love you more than you can imagine. I don’t want you to think you don’t deserve to be loved, cause you really do. That git is the one who doesn’t deserve your love.” he slowly caressed her hand. Y/N smiled sniffling once again and nodded. “Thank you” she put her head on George’s shoulder and wiped her tears with her sleeve. George smiled back at her and pressed a soft kiss on the crown of her hair. “You know what, you look cute with a red nose”

Y/N giggled and looked up at George. She hadn’t felt this comfortable for a long time, not since she was comforted by George before Christmas. “I wish you could just obliviate me about him sometimes”

“I’m afraid we would need someone like Lockhart on this subject since I don’t wanna delete wrong things.” They both giggled.

“Better?” asked George.

“Better.”

“Great. Mom always said that here is the most comfortable place.” He said patting on his shoulder, a proud grin on his face.

Y/N smiled back and stood up “I think I need to go now. Thank you again for everything.”

“Great to be in service” He hugged her one more time before letting her go.

“I knew it wasn’t the books that brought you to the library.” said Fred with a wide grin as he came out amongst the shelves.

“Freddie, we have someone to prank. And this time, every idea is accepted.”

“Hmmmmm I like this.”

[buddierecs]

post-lawsuit buddie fics

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating (none are explicit tho) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

peace in austin by: angelwithwingsoffire "after the lawsuit, buck wanted to go back to work, back to his family, and put everything behind him. he knew things wouldn't be the same, but he did want them to be good. but they weren't. he wasn't welcome, he wasn't happy, and he didn't want to stay. so when an old friend gives him the chance at a new family, he takes it. will his old family realize they fucked up? word count: 124k rating: mature important tags: 911 lone star characters, angst, hurt/comfort, depression, ptsd, recovery, slow burn buck down under by: scarletmanuka "after being forced to use up his vacation days, buck feels more alone than ever. things are still strained between himself and his firefam so he reaches out to a friend he met online. shane invites him to come and stay with him and his wife, and while in aus, buck learns how to feed a joey, makes friends with chickens, and when a bushfire rages nearby, he steps up to the fight. the 118 have no idea, until they see Buck's face on international news coverage of the fire." word count: 75k rating: mature important tags: angst, fluff, australia, getting together, healing, slow burn, pining accidental by: rosefield "post lawsuit, buck accidentally cuts his arm. He decides that maybe not getting help is best for everyone." word count: 36k rating: teen and up important tags: TW: suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, hurt/comfort, depression, worrried!eddie diaz, angst with a happy ending five minutes by: onelonely_tortillachip "after the lawsuit, buck decides to take a small vacation to take a break from the stress of coming to work each day to a group of people who can't forgive him. he decides to fly back to wyoming to the ranch he worked on as a younger man. but the flight he is scheduled to take doesn't make it to its destination." word count: 71k rating: mature important tags: airplane crashes, grief, emotional hurt/comfort, depression, survivor guilt never say never by: buddiesmutslut "buck throws another clot, calls the 118 & maddie out on their shit, lets athena hold him as he cries, and then finally talks to eddie." word count: 11k rating: general audience important tags: protective!athena grant, not maddie buckley friendly, not 118 friendly, emotional hurt/comfort i would mind by: myartificalflowers "buck is depressed and when his life is threatened during a call, things sort of slip out in the aftermath" word count: 3.2k rating: teen and up important tags: TW: suicidal thoughts, depression, hostage situations, angst with happy ending that's the way it is with love by: lotte15 "buck is alone after the lawsuit. he finds a ranch while hiking and meets eddie diaz and his son there. eddie and buck fall in love. only after an accident does 118 realize how much buck has withdrawn and how little they know about him" word count: 17k rating: not rated important tags: different first meeting au, cowboy!eddie diaz, ptsd, injury recovery, angst, soft!eddie diaz, mild sexual content, whump