#eddie just wants to be who he is and feels like he's inherited all the shit of his father specifically

[thepinkpanther83]

Hello again, I’ve come w a suggestion I was hoping you could possibly bring to life, if not though I understand! Idk if it would be a multi character fic or just one really long one so don’t feel obligated or anything!

Anyway, picture this: older Eddie, early to mid forties, he’s gruff but still lean and he’s the mechanic(if yo car fucked up don’t panic) and he’s been heartbroken so he just sleeps around and refuses to really let anyone in.

In comes you, new in town to take over some relatives business(maybe a bar or coffee shop). Late 20s, grungy and has quick wit. Eddie comes into your place of business and immediately catches your eye. You flirt and he does back, he leaves and one of the locals comes to you and gives the infamous “he isn’t looking for anything other than another notch on his bedpost” chat. So you think it’s just meaningless flirting, but he starts to come in more often and actively seeks your conversation/company.. que you having car problems and taking it into the mechanics and seeing him there. He asks for your number and you get to know each other.

Classic “he’ll change if he wants me” trope and of course, sarcasm, fluff and smut.

So, maybe something you’d be interested in? I really love your writing so I hope you aren’t uncomfortable w this request. Sending you love and positive energy!!

Grease And Honey (Pt.1 New Girl, Same Grind)

Chapter One: “New Girl, Same Grind”

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

💌 Author’s Note:

To my cherished repeat Anony requester… you know who you are. 🫶🏻

Thank you, from the bottom of my coffee-fueled heart, for this incredible story prompt. You handed me a rough sketch of a grease-stained, emotionally unavailable Eddie Munson and a snarky tea-drinking café owner, and let me run wild with them. I don’t take it lightly that you trust me again and again to bring your ideas to life. This story wouldn’t exist without your spark of inspiration.

I hope “Grease and Honey” delivers on all the slow-burn tension, banter, heartache, and heat your heart desired, and then some. 💋

Love always,

~Pinkie 🍒

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🎸🛠️☕🍯 Summary:

In the sleepy town of Hawkins, a freshly-inherited café and a busted-down car throw two unlikely souls into each other’s orbit.

He’s the town’s tattooed mechanic… gruff, flirtatious, and known for leaving hearts in his rearview. She’s the new girl with a sharp wit, a love of honeyed tea over coffee, and no intention of becoming anyone’s flavor of the week.

But some things can't be tuned out, not a shared spark, not stolen glances, and definitely not chemistry strong enough to break a lifelong habit of running from real connection.

Because sometimes, what starts as harmless flirting over coffee turns into something worth keeping.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two: "Morning Regular"

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter One: “New Girl, Same Grind”

Hawkins Indiana, Summer 2006.

There was still a faint smell of cinnamon in the walls.

Even after months of dust settling, spiders claiming corners, and sunlight filtering through untouched blinds, the old place still smelled like your uncle’s favorite scone recipe. Sweet, spiced, and just a little burnt. Comforting in a “you’ll figure it out” kind of way.

You stood behind the scratched-up counter, sleeves rolled to your elbows, sticky with lemon cleaner and something older you’d rather not name. It was your third hour in the place officially opened, and already, your back ached and your hair was tied up with a pencil like some kind of over caffeinated librarian.

The old coffee shop: Grindhouse, sat squat on the corner of Main and Beech, its windows a little foggy from years of neglect but its bones still strong. Hip enough to attract the teens, comfy enough for the town’s aging poets and angry journalers. Black brick exterior, faded red awning. A flickering neon sign in the shape of a steaming mug hung above the door like a half-hearted welcome.

It was yours now.

Inherited, unexpectedly, after Uncle Jack’s heart finally gave out during a bar fight at The Hideout (which, you were told, he started and finished). You didn’t know Hawkins well. Hadn’t visited since you were a teenager. But something about the town’s stillness… the way time seemed to stretch just a little slower here… felt like the kind of restart you didn’t know you needed.

You flicked on the ancient espresso machine, affectionately nicknamed "The Beast" in your uncle’s handwriting on a taped label, and prayed it wouldn’t explode. Steam hissed, water sputtered, and you laughed when it groaned like a wounded animal.

“Same, buddy,” you muttered, tapping a tin of looseleaf chamomile.

Coffee was fine. Great, even, when done right. But you’d always been a tea girl. The kind who keeps jars of honey in a cabinet sorted by origin. Lavender from France. Orange blossom from California. Clover from some dusty roadside stand in Nebraska. The sweetness wasn’t just flavor… it was ritual. Pour, stir, sip, breathe.

And today, you needed the ritual.

You padded across the shop’s checkerboard tile floors, wiping down tabletops and thinking about paint swatches. You made a mental note to fix the warped floorboard near the window seat. The morning light was gorgeous there, perfect for reading, or brooding, or scowling at the world with a dirty chai.

You were halfway through reorganizing the old chalkboard menu, debating whether to bring back the “Bad Witch Latte” special, when the bell above the front door rang.

You straightened automatically, chalk still in hand, fingers dusted white. The early morning haze outside had finally begun to lift, casting a warm light through the front windows. It made the place look… almost alive again.

“Morning!” you called out, too chipper for how little sleep you’d gotten.

A trio of customers wandered in, two middle-aged women deep in conversation and a teen already glued to his phone. Locals, probably. You could tell by the way they didn’t even glance at the specials board or hesitate at the register.

“You’re the new girl, huh?” the taller of the women asked, giving you a once-over with a smile that was a little too tight around the eyes to be entirely kind. “Took over for Jack?”

You nodded. “That’s me.”

“Hmph,” the other woman muttered, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. “Didn’t know he had family left. Thought you were some big city investor come to gut the place.”

“Nope. Just me. Grieving niece with a mild caffeine addiction and a dream.”

That earned a half-hearted chuckle. They placed their orders, skinny vanilla lattes, one with extra foam, and shuffled toward the corner booth like they owned it. Maybe they did. You were pretty sure the taller one had already started rearranging the throw pillows.

“Order in!” your barista called from behind the espresso machine.

Callie, hired two weeks ago off a hastily taped flyer you’d posted at the local library, was younger than you, twenty-two, and had the kind of sarcastic energy that made customers feel both entertained and a little nervous. Her hair was buzzed short on one side and dyed a green so electric it nearly matched the apron she insisted on customizing with iron-on patches.

She slid the lattes onto the counter with the flair of someone performing alchemy. “Gossip coven’s back,” she muttered under her breath. “They already asked if I’m your daughter.”

You barked a laugh and started prepping a cinnamon roll for the teen still scrolling through YouTube. “We’re like three years apart.”

“Exactly,” she grinned, and then added with mock reverence, “Mom.”

More customers trickled in after that. A guy in coveralls grabbed a black coffee and a ham croissant on his way to the hardware store. A pair of teenage girls with matching backpacks took twenty minutes to choose between the lavender matcha and the cherry cola cold brew. You fumbled with the register once, burned your finger on a hot tray twice, and forgot to apply a loyalty stamp to a regular’s punch card, he waved it off, but you could feel your pride bruising already.

The coffee shop had a heartbeat now. You could feel it, pulsing through the rhythm of orders and names called out, chairs scraping against the floor, that occasional, comforting hiss of the espresso machine. It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

Around noon, you finally caught a breath.

You were sipping a lukewarm cup of Earl Grey, honey swirled into a golden whirlpool at the bottom, when the door jingled again.

This time, the woman who walked in made your shoulders tense before you even saw her face.

Sixty-ish, sharply dressed, no hair out of place. Bright pink lipstick. Heels in a town that didn’t seem to require them. You clocked her immediately as the type who didn’t order so much as declare.

She made a slow circle around the shop, arms folded over a powder-blue cardigan, eyes scanning everything like she was conducting an inspection. She paused to lift a throw pillow, then turned it over like she might find contraband underneath.

“Can I help you?” you asked as warmly as you could manage.

Her gaze snapped to yours. “Just looking. I used to come in here all the time. Knew Jack. Shame about what happened.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “He was… something else.”

“I’m Lorraine Whitmore,” she offered, like it was a name with weight. “I run the florist shop across the street.”

Ah. That explained the faint smell of roses and the air of neighborhood dominance.

“Nice to meet you. I’m-”

“Oh, I know who you are,” she cut in, smiling without teeth. “Everyone does by now. You’re the niece. Took over the shop. Drinks tea with honey instead of coffee. Wants to paint the walls. Trying to do things ‘your way.’”

You blinked. “Wow. I guess small-town gossip really does move faster than FedEx.”

She chuckled primly, then lowered her voice like she was handing over classified intel. “Word of advice, dear. Don’t go getting too comfortable too fast.”

You arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

“There are certain… rhythms in this town. People who’ve been here a long time. Things work better when you don’t try to change too much.”

Ah. There it was.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said coolly, gesturing toward the counter. “Can I get you anything?”

She waved a hand like she was above such things. “I’m off caffeine until the afternoon. But I’ll be back. Just wanted to see what the new girl looked like.”

And with that, she breezed out, leaving behind a trail of floral perfume and passive aggression.

Callie peeked out from the kitchen with a half-eaten brownie in her hand. “Was that the Lorraine?”

“Apparently,” you sighed.

“She once wrote a review in the Hawkins Post so scathing it got the pharmacy shut down for a week.”

“I believe it.”

The rest of the day unfolded in a haze of orders and overheard conversations. You started learning faces, catching names. You learned that Mr. Hathaway always wanted his muffin warmed but not too warm, and that Piper, the high school art kid with six nose rings, tipped in stickers and weed gummies instead of cash.

You learned that your uncle had a running tab with the local music store, and that Grindhouse used to do open mic nights. You made a note to maybe bring those back, when the time felt right.

There was a lull. Not quiet exactly, just the kind of brief, midday breath where the espresso machine could rest and the speakers played something low and moody from the ‘90s. You sipped your tea and leaned your hips against the counter, letting the steam fan over your face as Callie restocked muffins in the display case with the speed and intensity of a bomb tech.

Then the bell jingled.

You didn’t even have to look up.

Lorraine Whitmore had a heel-click. A little stomp in her step like she was leading a parade and everyone else was just lucky to be on the sidewalk. She marched right in with a massive patent leather tote, designer sunglasses (indoors, of course), and a notepad tucked under one arm like she was preparing to audit your soul.

“Good afternoon,” she said like it was a formal address to the nation. “I’ll have an oat milk cappuccino, extra dry, no foam, half a shot of espresso, two pumps sugar-free vanilla. And do you happen to have a gluten-free turkey sandwich on multigrain?”

You blinked. “We have turkey. We have multigrain. It… might have gluten.”

She pursed her lips like you’d just insulted her bloodline.

“Fine. I suppose I’ll survive. But no tomato. And could you cut it diagonally?”

You exchanged a look with Callie, who mouthed run and disappeared into the back, absolutely no help whatsoever.

You rang Lorraine up, prepared her beverage exactly as specified, while wondering what exactly makes a cappuccino “extra dry” and handed it off with the kind of tight-lipped smile reserved for tax season.

She didn’t leave.

Instead, she chose the seat farthest from the register and closest to the large window, facing out, so she could keep an eye on both the street and the shop. She set her bag beside her like a precious artifact and pulled out a legal pad. No laptop. Just pen and paper and the occasional squint over her glasses toward the counter.

You’d bet your last jar of lavender honey she hadn’t written anything on that pad in the last fifteen minutes, it was just an excuse to loiter and be nosy.

She was very nosy. And not even subtle about it. The kind of woman who heard footsteps and peeked through blinds. The kind who probably used the phrase “mark my words” in regular conversation.

You ignored her as best you could. Wiped down the already-clean counter. Rearranged the pastry display. Pretended not to notice her watching you like you were about to commit a crime against decorative shelving.

Then the bell rang again.

This time you did look up.

Boots first. Heavy ones, scuffed and grease-slicked around the soles. Then jeans, black, torn at the knee, and worn in the way that said earned, not bought that way. There was a slight hitch in his gait, barely noticeable unless you were looking, but you were. He had a slight half-limp, like an old injury had never quite stopped whispering to him.

Then rings, lots of them, flashing across long fingers as he pushed the door open. Tattoos curled around his knuckles and up his forearms, and disappeared under the sleeves of a black band tee so faded you couldn’t read the logo anymore. His flannel was open and rolled to the elbows. Oil stains on the hem. A chain on his belt hanging and connected to his jeans. Black sunglasses tucked into his collar.

His hair was a mess of warm brown curls pulled into a low bun at the base of his neck, with strands breaking free to frame his face in a way that shouldn’t have worked, but absolutely did. His jaw was sharp, shadowed in stubble, and his eyes scanned the place with casual disinterest, until they landed on you.

You didn’t smile.

You just watched him.

And he watched you back, slow and easy, one corner of his mouth pulling into a cocky half-smirk like he’d already decided something about you and wasn’t planning to share.

He approached the counter, dragging his fingers along it like he was checking the grain of the wood.

“You new?” he asked, voice low and rough, the kind of rasp that came from years of yelling over engines and bad music.

“That obvious?” you replied, deadpan.

He chuckled, short and smug. “Only people still trying are the new ones.”

You raised a brow. “Trying?”

He leaned in slightly, propping an elbow on the counter. “To clean. To make things pretty. To make the menu legible.” His eyes flicked toward the chalkboard you’d been reorganizing. “Locals don’t even read it anymore. They just order the same thing every day.”

“And what’s your usual?”

“Black coffee,” he said. “No sugar. No bullshit.”

Of course it was.

You moved to prep it without a word, already clocking the way his gaze lingered, not in a leering way, just… observant. Like he was cataloging something.

When you handed him the mug, he wrapped one hand around it like he hadn’t touched warmth all day.

“Thanks,” he said, then added with a cocked head, “You got a name, or should I keep calling you ‘New Girl’ in my head?”

You gave him your name, and he repeated it slowly, like he was trying it on for size.

“Eddie,” he said in return, with a grin that could’ve melted the wax off a bar candle. “Munson. Garage is a block down. If your car ever starts making a noise like a dying goose, that’s me.”

“Oh, I’ll call you right away, then,” you said dryly. “Love a man who knows his geese.”

He snorted into his coffee, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You got jokes. Not sure if that’s brave or reckless.”

You shrugged. “You got dirt under your nails and a hole in your jeans. Not sure if that’s charming or contagious.”

He laughed, loud and unbothered, and leaned back just slightly to size you up.

Lorraine very audibly turned a page on her untouched legal pad.

Neither of you looked at her.

But you both knew she was listening. Hard.

Eddie took a long sip of his coffee, still watching you over the rim of his mug like you were something interesting to study under good lighting.

Then he said, “So. What are you doing later?”

And just like that, your day got a hell of a lot more interesting.

You didn’t answer right away.

Not because you didn’t have one, but because you liked the way he looked when he thought he might’ve said too much.

“I’ve got plans later,” you said eventually, voice smooth and even. “But thanks for the offer.”

Eddie didn’t flinch. Didn’t pout or scoff or do anything dramatic. He just nodded slowly and leaned back a little, like he was reassessing, lips twitching at the corners.

“Oh yeah?” he asked. “What kind of plans? Hot date with a spreadsheet? Netflix and lemon-scented mop water?”

You tilted your head. “Dinner with a box of off-brand macaroni and a YouTube tutorial on unclogging industrial sink traps.”

He laughed again, like he couldn’t help it, and tapped the counter twice like you’d just scored a point.

“Okay, yeah, that’s hot,” he said. “Not gonna lie.”

“You sure you can handle that kind of commitment?” you teased. “I mean, things might get serious if I upgrade to elbow pasta.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I like things serious. When they’re fun.”

You hummed noncommittally, but your smile was giving you away. There was a flutter in your chest that hadn’t been there this morning, a kind of stupid hope, if you were honest. But you weren’t going to toss it all at him like confetti.

Still, you didn’t want him to leave thinking it meant nothing. Because it hadn’t meant nothing.

“Some other time, maybe,” you said casually, wiping a spot on the counter that didn’t need it.

Eddie caught it. You knew he did. That little hitch in your tone, the crack in the cool.

He grinned like he’d won something.

“Good,” he said. “Would’ve hated to leave here thinking you didn’t want me to ask again.”

You scoffed softly. “You don’t seem like the type who needs permission to do anything.”

He drained the rest of his coffee like it was holy water, then reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a beat-up leather wallet. He slid a business card across the counter with two fingers, oil-smudged on the edge, but still perfectly legible.

Munson Auto. “If it makes a noise, I can fix it.”

Scrawled in dark ink below the official shop number was a second number. He tapped it twice, then met your eyes again.

“That’s my personal one,” he said, low and deliberate, with a wink that should’ve been illegal before 5 p.m. “You know. In case your sink trap doesn’t call you back.”

You stared at the card a second longer than you meant to, then slipped it into your apron pocket without a word.

Eddie pushed off the counter with one palm, gave you a lazy salute with two fingers, and backed toward the door with that same slight limp and a grin that practically had its own ZIP code.

Then he was gone.

And before you could even breathe, there was a theatrical clearing of a throat from the far corner of the shop.

You didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

“I see you’ve met Hawkins’ resident heartbreaker,” Lorraine said, standing from her table with her half-eaten sandwich in tow. “He comes in like that on purpose, you know. Dirty boots, tattoos, all that attitude, it’s a performance. And it works. Every time.”

You raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, waiting for the rest.

“He’s not the settling down type,” she went on, adjusting her tote strap and lifting her chin like she was about to drop life-altering wisdom. “Drives fast, talks faster. He’s charming until he gets what he wants, and then he disappears, just like his father. There’s a reason his little black book is more like a trilogy.”

You blinked at her. “Sounds like you know from experience.”

Lorraine narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, dear. You seem smart. Would be a shame to see you dragged through the same story as the rest of them.”

With that, she grabbed her bag and her judgment and left, heels clicking all the way to the door.

You stood there a moment, letting the words hang in the air like smoke from a burnt espresso shot.

Then you rolled your eyes, pulled Eddie’s card from your pocket, and stared at it.

It didn’t feel like nothing.

But you weren’t about to let some nosy town watch captain ruin your afternoon.

So you tucked it away, deep in the little zip pouch behind the register, and got back to work.

Whatever this thing was? You’d figure it out later. For now, there was tea to steep. Coffee to brew. Music to change. And a damn good smirk to pretend you hadn’t been thinking about ever since it walked out the door without paying.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two: "Morning Regular"

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! @justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee, @micheledawn1975, @fckyeahlames, @cantstandya2000, @totallysocially

Masterlist

[xoxoladyaz]

Feeling some Steddie angst hours in this house 🚨🚨🚨

After they kill Vecna, things go back to normal. Well, as normal as they can be. Whatever brief moment of insanity Steve and Nance had ends about as suddenly as it began, and she can’t really meet his eyes once her hand is back in Jonathan’s.

(It’s a blessing when she leaves for Columbia, Jonathan’s beat-up car following right behind her.)

The least normal thing is probably Eddie Munson, or at least whatever Steve’s relationship is with him now. It’s - there’s just something different there, some strange warmth that he feels when he looks at Eddie. And sometimes Steve catches Eddie just looking at him and - well, it gives him that same warm feeling, and maybe that means something? Something that maybe seemed scary before but is nowhere near as scary as Eddie almost bleeding out in Steve’s arms.

He’s in the midst of talking himself up, of figuring out just what he’s going to say to Eddie, when the Munsons announce they’re heading out of town and then leave the next day. Steve’s almost paralyzed with anxiety, but he’s gotta say something, right?

Except Eddie cuts him off at the knees with a weak smile, tells him not to be a stranger, to visit him in the city with his kids and a Winnebago once he’s finally gotten that suburban dream, and then he’s gone.

And Steve doesn’t hear from him again.

To be fair, no one really hears from Eddie; just Dustin, who will chime in that they’ve chatted every once in a while, that Eddie went to LA for a bit and then Seattle and finally settled in Chicago; that he seems to be really happy, but never gives any information beyond that.

And Steve? He packs up his life and follows Robin to college, and when he accompanies her to their first gay bar and sees two metal heads kissing, something inside him snaps and the pair of them end up drunkenly crying in their tiny apartment’s bathroom. But it gets better after that, and two years after their move to Indy, Steve meets Sam.

Sam, who’s got the lightest blonde hair he’s ever seen, cut into a shaggy mullet that perfectly offsets his shiny hazel eyes. He’s got a bright smile and a pierced eyebrow and too many earrings to count and his laugh is loud and joyous and for whatever reason, he likes Steve as much as Steve likes him.

Robin, of course, is ecstatic and takes all the credit for introducing them, which is technically true seeing as she was the one to spill her drink all over Sam before Steve came to the rescue. (Although she then almost ruined everything by throwing up on both of their shoes, so, Steve only lets her gloat so much.)

Three years after that finds Steve and Robin gainfully employer, as teachers of all things, and Vickie finally succeeds in convincing Robin to move in with her, and, well, it only makes sense that Steve and Sam get their own place too because, well, Steve loves him. Loves his ripped jeans and his skateboard and the fact that he’s cheery no matter the time of day, that he wants to have a family probably even more than Steve does and didn’t blink when Steve said he wanted six kids, he only laughed and said “why stop there?” And it may not be exactly what Steve was thinking in that Winnebago all those years ago, but that’s okay, because what he has with Sam? Is way better.

Once Steve and Sam get settled, Sam insists that they have a housewarming party (because Sam makes good money at his tattooing gig, and Steve’s inheritance is nothing to sneeze at, and they’re actually able to get a house, which feels insane but also just right) and invite all of Steve’s kids, who he’s met a few times but never all at once, and Steve is so whipped he says “yes” without a second thought.

(Which he really should have had because Henderson was also living in Chicago now.)

So when Henderson wanders in with Eddie as his plus one, and Sam is nowhere in sight, Steve only gives himself a moment to freak out before walking over to greet Eddie.

“Steeevveeeee Harrington,” Eddie purrs with a toothy grin. “Good to see you man. And good to see you finally getting started on that dream of yours,” he says, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “With Sam, I hear. You two crazy kids getting started on those six kids yet?”

“Uh, not - “

“Not quite yet,” Sam cuts in from behind Steve, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist and tucking Steve’s head under his chin. “I still want a few more years of this guy all to myself. You must be Eddie,” Sam grins, sticking out his hand. “Good to meet you man. I’ve heard all about you.”

Eddie just stares at Sam. Stares and stares until Dustin kicks him in the shin. “Right. Sam. Sam. Good to meet you, man,” Eddie says, but he looks pale and vaguely sick and if Steve didn’t know from the few times Dustin had slipped up in the past, he’d think Eddie was homophobic (and he knew that wasn’t the case.)

Sam grins. “Well, good to have you here. Steve, babe, Robin wants you in the kitchen, something about the salsa - “

“Oh my God,” Steve groans, and then all thoughts of Eddie are forgotten in his rush to make sure Robin doesn’t actually poison everyone, and then he gets busy greeting people and saying hi and it’s not until well after midnight, when the remaining guests are smoking up with Argyle and Steve is taking out the trash that he remembers Eddie. Or, more accurately, that he bumps into him.

“So. Sam,” Eddie says, smoking a cigarette by the garage, gazing off into the distance. “He’s a good dude. Got shit taste in music, though.”

Steve slams the trash can lid shut a little harder than he needs to. “Dude,” he sighs, and Eddie must hear his exhaustion because he doesn’t say anything else for a while.

“Did you know?”

“About what?”

“About you? Back in ‘86?”

Steve just nods tiredly. “Yeah, man. I did.”

Eddie hums nervously. “And was there someone - “

“Eddie, man, you know there was. You know.”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s laugh sounds broken. “Yeah, I did. Fuck. Fuck.”

And Steve doesn’t know what to say, because what is there to say? He loved Eddie; hell, part of him still loves Eddie. But Eddie ran at the first inkling of there being something between them, and Sam didn’t. He’s never run, not even when Steve gave him so many reasons to. And Steve could tell Eddie that he’s wondered, so many times he’s wondered, what they could have been. If they could be anything.

But Eddie wasn’t there to hold out his hand, and Sam was. Sam is, and that makes all the difference.

Steve claps his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, just like Eddie did when he arrived, and then he heads into his house.

(This time, he’s the one to leave Eddie behind.)

[lexirosewrites]

A sequel to my nugget #4 ficlet from last week

Baby Jim is a sweet little guy, he starts sleeping thru the night much more quickly than his siblings did, rolls over fast because his siblings r always showing him how, but then... he starts teething at 8 months and it's like a dam is unleashed, for the first time the tried & true teething tricks steddie used w their first 3 pups aren't working the same & poor baby Jim is up at all hours crying in pain & his crying makes the older siblings cry bc they can scent the pain his milky baby scent, then because he isn't sleeping he cries more & eventually it makes Steve cry from exhaustion & frustration & feelings of not being a good mother to his pup & Steve crying makes Eddie cry & the whole house devolves into a weeping mess, the other parents of the party also find themselves at a loss because their own advice doesn't help for very long

Enter: Mrs Amelia Harrington. She divorced Richard not long after steddie registered their mating and reconnected w her son rebuilt their relationship and is now the extravagant well traveled grandmother who always brings gifts for her grandchildren & child & son in law, and she might live in Vienna most of the year now but she still makes time to visit at least once a year. Well Steve warns her about the teething issues on the drive home from the airport & Amelia simply hums.

They get everything inside & poor baby Jim is crying not long after she arrives, she asks what they've tried & Steve starts crying as he explains: Jim rejects every teething toy they give him after an hour at best, his parents scents don't help for long enough for Jim to sleep properly, he spits out the cold pacifier almost immediately, and practically throws any clean wet washcloths across the room.

Amelia hums more before she nods, says she figured Jim might have started teething & she had a feeling he might struggle the same way Steve did, and then turns & rummages thru her luggage before coming back with a spoon tht clearly had begun as a beautiful piece of silver but was now bent in curious ways. When eddie & Steve try to ask she simply shushes them, says she will explain in a bit and goes about chilling the spoon in the fridge then scooping Greek yogurt into it. Amelia asks to hold baby Jim who hasn't really stopped crying & when he's situated comfortably in her arms she pops the cold spoon of yogurt into his mouth & a miracle happens: baby Jim gums at the yogurt & chews on the spoon long after the yogurt is gone, in fact he doesn't seem to want to let it go, steddie have never seen him treat any of the teething remedies they'd tried up to now like this.

Amelia explains: Steve was the sweetest baby, slept thru the night more often than not, rolled over quickly but crawled by pushing himself around in silly ways for awhile, he liked laughing & giggling & ate with no issues, but then he hit 7 months & began teething in earnest & her sweet baby was suddenly in pain she couldn't fix. He rejected all of the rubber toys she bought for him to chew on, he spit out cold pacifiers, & she felt at the end of her rope. (Richard was of course no help during this time & even got a hotel room for himself alone till Steve got thru the worst of it, fuck Richard Harrington all my homies hate Richard Harrington) Then one day she was exhausted & alone in tht big house & just wanted him to eat some yogurt but he was rejecting all of his baby spoons & she didn't have many clean dishes at tht particular moment so she just said "fuck it" opened up the heirloom silverware she'd inherited from her grandmother (tht she'd gifted to steddie as a belated wedding/mating/house warming gift) pulled out one of dozens of small spoons & fed him w tht, but then he simply wouldn't let the spoon go & he even began chewing at it & teething on it in a way he hadn't w anything else. So Amelia didn't question it beyond calling a friend from college about the safety of silver for a teething bby, who said it would b fine after she tested for lead (found none & learned it was pure silver) tht silver is non-toxic, hypoallergenic, & naturally antimicrobial. Steve preferred his spoon over all his other teething toys but would settle for a rubber toy shaped like a donut while the spoon was being washed.

Through this whole explanation baby Jim was the most content they'd seen him since he began teething, even asking with his hands for more yogurt which grandma Amelia happily gave him. Soon enough she was laying baby Jim down in his crib for a nap with the spoon in his grip.

Steve is teased mercilessly for approximately 3 days abt being such a fancy rich baby he would settle for nothing less than pure silver as a teething toy. And that Baby Jim is truly the most dramatic & theatrical of all their nuggets because he demanded the same

(Amelia came from generational wealth, old money but Indiana money. She traveled a lot & met Richard not long after college & was often disappointed in him but didn't divorce him bc he was skilled at love bombing her specifically. Steve traveled a lot too as a kid & then as a teen he'd summer in Europe w his mom. I just like the idea of this)

(Might b sending in an ask abt nugget #5 a little bit later but i must complete a chore in my home first)

silver spoon pups🤭

[cherrys-muses]

— BUT I WILL TRY TO DROWN YOU OUT | e. munson x reader

| warnings; this is a flashback so this is to my ‘truck driver!eddie’ au (this can also just read as a plain eddie fic!), i try to keep this as gn as i can - but sometimes there will be a few slip ups, FATHERS!!!!!!, eddie has a sister, this one is slightly long, mentions of alcohol, abuse, and blood!

| an; i’ve missed writing for him and his little family so so much :( but i wanted to do some more back stories for this au as well!

— special tags; @munsonbee - you always have the most wonderful things to say about this au and i will never be able to thank you enough for showing so much love to this and me :(

— THANKSGIVING | 1985. 

Eddie fears that this was forever. This…sickness that he inherited from his father. The pushing away, the pulling back when things get too hard too quick. 

Or maybe things were good and he had to ruin them just as his father did. 

You had arrived, catching Eddie slightly off guard. Especially from the two trays you carry inside the trailer. He blinked owlishly, which caused Wayne to smack the back of his head in a teasing manner. 

“Go help. I raised you better than that, boy.” 

Eddie was quick to stand then, hopping off the bench where he had sat next to Wayne, jogging up the steps and inside to the warm house. “Uh, what are you doing here?” He wipes the sweat from his palms, watching as you shove something into the stove under the ham that Wayne had been cooking. 

You shrug and turn to the refrigerator now, pushing what looked like a pie inside. You then walk to him, folding your fingers in front of you as you rock on your heels with a shy smile - you look so pretty Eddie short circuits. 

“I wanted to see you,” You nod. “My family always has our thanksgiving meal early. And my mom talked to Wayne before I just popped up.” 

Eddie smiles softly. “You’re welcome here anytime.” 

You nod and step closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders now. “I know. Still - manners and all,”  You move your head side to side. He grins and presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you close. “Would you want to come stay with me tonight? We're setting up the Christmas tree.” 

He chuckles and you pull away, pouting at him. “Why are you laughing? It’s tradition.” 

“For you. I think it’s ridiculous.” 

Your arms slightly loosen their hold when the words slip out, the playful pout now a frown as you look away from him. “I mean, you don’t have to come,” You shake your head and pull away from him. “I just thought since Wayne has to leave tonight you’d have someone to stay with on the holiday.” 

Eddie shrugs. “It’s fine. It’s just another day.” 

Slightly pursing your lips together, you only nod this time. You turn from him and walk into the kitchen, opening the cabinets. Eddie’s suddenly confused but ignores it, stepping into the kitchen as well. 

“Need help?” 

“No.” You reply shortly, turning towards the table and placing three plates out onto the table. 

“Add another,” Wayne’s voice catches her off guard, looking over at him. “Uh, Alan is coming.” His eyes cut over to Eddie who’s jaw ticks slightly. 

You only nod, walking over and grab another plate, placing it down onto the table along with the others. 

When Alan Munson arrives - Eddie’s honestly surprised - there’s another woman on his arm, and an air of cockiness, cheap cologne, cigarettes and leather. He’s loud - extremely loud. 

The woman next to him - Alison you come to learn - is a pretty brunette with wide eyes, almost like Eddie’s mother’s eyes. 

And even if you were still slightly upset at Eddie for his comment earlier - which was a petty comment - your hand grabs his from under the table, squeezing when you feel his foot bouncing. 

He barely touches any of Wayne’s ham he had cooked - and it was something he looked forward to every year. 

“Don’t waste your food, kid,” Alan slaps his shoulder roughly. Eddie winces slightly, moving closer to you. “Raised you better than that.” 

“You didn’t raise me though,” Eddie quickly retorts. “Wayne did. And I can put it up for later - that’s what we usually do on Thanksgiving. If you would’ve been there, you’d know.” 

Alan’s chewing slowly comes to a stop, brows lifting slightly as he stares at him. “Watch your tone, Edward.” 

“Of course, Alan.” His fork clatters into his plate as he stands, the chair sliding out from under him quickly. You flinch when it hits the wall, the frame rattling. 

The door opens before Alan or Wayne could say anything. Georgia steps in, a bottle of wine in her hand as she lifts it up. “Uncle Wayne! Eds!” Her voice is slightly raspy and her lips pulled into a grin. 

It drops when she sees Alan. 

“You didn’t tell me he was coming.” Her eyes look at Wayne who finally stands. 

“I didn’t think he was going to show up.” 

Georgia looks at him. “Always like you to show up randomly.” 

“My first born,” He looks at Alison who leans into his chest, cheetah print boots pressing into the floor. “Georgia. Just like her mother with that complaining.” 

“Don’t you talk about her like that. Georgia or mom.” Eddie snaps, looking at him. 

“Eddie—” You stand from your chair. Alison stands when Alan stands as well, moving out of his way. 

“I said to watch your tone, son. I’m not foolin’ ‘round,” Eddie’s stomach churns when the smell of beer drifts into his face. He has the right mind to throw up all over Alan’s snake-skin boots. “Or I’ll make you—”

“What? Regret it?” Eddie steps closer to Alan. He notices the smirk that pulls at his lips. “I’m not some kid you can toss around anymore. I hit back now.” 

“Eddie.” Wayne warns him. He knew this is what Alan wanted and he hates that Alan is getting what he wanted. But Eddie is his fathers son. His blood is in his veins - no matter how much he wanted to deny it. 

“Maybe Georgia’s more like me,” Alan nods. “You’re more like Elizabeth. I know that defensive look any—”

Eddie throws the first punch before his mind has time to think about it. He watches as Wayne stumbles a bit, the spikes on his boots clicking slightly. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you watch with wide eyes, your heart beating in your ears. 

Eddie’s anger has multiplied now - it’s burning his fingertips, tingling through his legs. He will not allow a man who never actually knew his mother to talk badly about her. 

There are nights when he prays for forgiveness for killing his mom - not that he actually did - but he knows that she would’ve still been here if it weren’t for him. 

Eddie knows she loved both him and Georgia fiercely. He also knew that she thought having him would maybe fix Alan like he was when Georgia was born. But now, he sees that he didn’t fix it. 

He made it worse. 

He killed his mom. 

And if he could, he'd time-travel back to before she even met Alan and would warn her. Warn her about how evil he was - the epitome of the devil. 

Even if that meant he wouldn’t have a sister. 

Even if that meant he wouldn’t be born. 

He wished that she would’ve been happy. 

He wanted to give his life for hers so she could live again. The only thing she’d be afraid of was bees and not the hand of some man who didn’t even deserve the clothes on his back. 

Alan slowly stands from his hunched position, a small laugh breaking free from his busted lip as he shakes his head. “She never fought back though.” 

Eddie lets out a scream and he feels the tears that had suddenly dropped down his cheeks. His hands grab the collar of his flannel, tossing him to the ground before anyone could stop him. 

There’s a buzzing noise in his ears when his knuckles meet Alan’s face and he can still feel the tears that slip down his cheeks. The punches grow weaker, his bloodied hand dropping to his chest as his shoulders shake with sobs. 

He’s knocked onto his back then, Alan shifting onto his knees. The sound of the buckle makes his eyes squeeze shut. He's six years old again after that one time he accidentally stepped on a single cigarette. 

He can feel the tingling from the metal across his hands again. 

Wayne interferes before the belt could even meet Eddie’s back, shoving Alan into the wall across the room. Eddie stays laying on the ground, shoulders shaking. 

You watch as Alan gets tugged out of the trailer now by Wayne’s hand on the back of his head. Alison follows after them quickly. You look down at Eddie, walking over and kneeling by him as your hand lands on his back. 

He’s quick to pull away from your touch as if you’d burned him. “Don’t touch me,” He seethes. Your own tears had formed, watching Eddie cry on the ground. “Don’t. I don’t need you or your pity.” 

Your heart breaks and you shake your head. “No…No, baby. Don’t—I want…” 

“I want you to leave, now,” He stands from the ground. You’d seen too much. You’d seen how frightening he was and that’s how you’re going to remember him for the rest of your life - that’s what he told himself. “You’re only with me because you took me on as a charity case. That’s it. There’s nothing there.” 

You quickly stand from the ground, shaking your head rapidly as you reach out for him. He steps away, eyes narrowed at you, expression stern. “No…no, I love you. I’m in love with you, Eddie. Please,” Your voice breaks. “Don’t shut me out. You’re shutting me out.” 

“Leave!” His voice makes you flinch and another tear rolls down your cheek as you stare at him. A small noise leaves your throat when you look away, face crumbling as you walk away from him quickly. 

Georgia stands there, wine bottle still in her hands as her eyes remain on Eddie. She wanted to lecture him but she also knows now is not the time. He’s shutting himself down and there would be no way of getting through to him until he cools down. 

Once he knows you're gone, his shaky hands reach for the pack of cigarettes that are on the counter. He walks past Georgia who now sits on the couch by Wayne, walking out into the cool air. 

He stops when he sees Alan, jaw ticking. This is the longest he’s stayed after any type of holiday. He walks down the steps and sits on the last one. He slips the lighter from the pack, lighting the end of the cigarette. 

Inhaling deeply, he blows out the smoke and stares up at the sky. It’s silent between the father and son. 

“I don’t think you’re a good person.” Eddie finally speaks up. 

Alan lets out a small laugh and it causes Eddie’s blood to boil. “And you are?” 

Eddie thinks for a moment, inhaling more smoke, letting it swirl in his chest before blowing it out. “I’m too much like you for that,” He says. Alan stays silent and stares at the back of Eddie’s head. “I almost forgot your voice.” 

“What?” 

“Your voice,” Eddie says. He can’t turn and look at him. “I almost forgot what it sounded like. I was hoping it’d be completely gone from my memories until I could make a new one for you - make you sound more happy. Create different memories than what I have,” 

He looks down at the ground. “Then when you popped up - like you always seem to do when you want or need something - everything came back to me. Just like that time you busted my hands up with the metal of your belt - the same one you’re wearing now,” Wayne looks down at his thighs, clenching his jaw. 

“Just for…accidentally breaking one cigarette. One,” He puts out the rest of his cigarette and stands. “I wish I could forget your voice instead of mom’s. Because hers,” His voice cracks. “Her’s is almost gone. And she can’t just pop up when she wants to, to remind me what it sounds like.” He makes his way back up the steps and towards the door. 

“I did love you all.” 

Eddie stops, eyes closing as he shakes his head. “That wasn’t love. That was you angry at your responsibilities and you didn’t know how to handle them. But that wasn’t our fault, Alan. You could’ve left. Saved us the pain,” He looks at his back now. “We wouldn’t have cared.” 

Alan says nothing else then. Eddie walks inside, shutting and locking the door behind himself and walks past both Wayne and Georgia again to his room. He falls onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling. 

The glow-in-the-dark stars that you’d bought and stuck up on his ceiling lights his room up enough. He stayed silent, his breathing wasn’t as heavy as it was before and his heart had calmed down a significant amount - luckily. 

He feels the bed shift and a shoulder brush against his. 

“I’ve missed you.” Georgia finally says, eyes staring up at the sticky stars. 

“Hm.” Eddie nods, tapping his fingers on his stomach. He doesn’t necessarily believe it - she never calls. Never visit. When she graduated, she left without looking back. 

He didn’t hate her for it. But he didn’t like her for it either. 

She looks over at him. “I do, Eddie,” She nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you with me. But I just…I needed space from here. From everything that reminded me of—”

“Reminded you of dad,” He nods. “I know. I’m sorry I’m so much like him.” 

“Reminded me of mom,” She finishes. He looks over at her. He can make out the quiver of her chin. “From everything that reminded me of her,” Her voice catches in her throat and she sits up, wrapping her hand around her throat, rubbing at the tightness. 

“You remind me so much of her and I can’t…” She shakes her head. “I hate her,” She finally blurts. “I hate her so much for leaving. She wasn’t supposed to leave us. He was,” 

Eddie slowly sits up now, staring at her. He’s never seen her cry. She was always the one who held it in - wiped his tears. Sometimes Georgia envied how easily he could cry. 

“But she’s the one who’s gone. I love her. And I miss her. But I hate her. Everything is so confusing. I-I don’t know…I don’t—” Her chest heaves and hands become shaky as they push through her hair. Eddie pulls her close, hugging her tightly as she had done him so many times as a child. 

His eyes close as his cheek presses into the top of her head. “It’s okay…I know,” He whispers. “I know.” 

It takes a while, but eventually her sobs are reduced to sniffling. She pulls away, wiping at her face and nose - her head pounds. “Sometimes I believe Alan is a good man,” She says. Eddie looks at her quietly. “He’s good when I compare him to his own father. And…and that’s enough for me not to…for me to try and not hate him,” 

Her breath shudders when she inhales and she looks at him. “Dad and I are more alike than I care to admit,” She nods. “And when I feel that pure…rage - that pure anger - I realize how much we are truly alike. And it feels like a sickness that has no cure.” 

Eddie stares at Georgia quietly. She always reminded him of their mom - a gentle, caring person who truly would lie their life down on the line for anyone. 

He always reminded himself of Alan. A man who pushed and pushed and pushed until everyone around them finally realized there’s no sense in keeping close to him. 

But maybe they’re both just like Alan. 

“I’m sorry for not calling.” Georgia looks at him with shame. 

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s not your fault.” 

Georgia says nothing but she knows it is. She stands from his bed. “Call that girl, okay?” She looks at him as he looks down at his blanket. “Or just go to see her.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’ll still be here for at least three more days until I go back home,” Home. That pained him to hear from her because he wanted somewhere to feel like home. “I want to meet her. But you need to apologize to her.” 

Eddie nods slightly. She walks out of his room but turns and peeks back in. 

“I love you, buttercup.” Georgia sounds just like their mom. 

Eddie looks up, smiling softly when he feels tears pooling in his eyes. He prays he can still remember her voice - even when he’s old and wrinkled. 

“I love you, superstar.” 

Georgia smiles and grips the door frame slightly before stepping into Wayne’s room he’d given up for three days so she could sleep comfortably. 

Eddie stands from his bed, grabbing his warm jacket and slips it on before walking out of his room. He stops when he hears snoring and ticking from the chair. 

Looking over at Wayne - a man who welcomed a teenage girl and a young boy into his home - he smiles softly. He steps over, grabbing an extra throw that was on the couch and places it over his knees. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head before stepping outside into the cold. 

—

He wants to back out, wait until tomorrow to visit you. He sees the television playing It’s A Wonderful Life, although the movie is almost over. There’s some Christmas lights already hung around inside. 

His eyes stop on the tree and his heart pulls in his chest. It was too late to join. 

The door opens and he stands up straighter when he notices it’s your mom. “Hi,” He says. He doesn’t know how much you exactly told your parents, but judging from the slight pitiful smile that pulls on her cheeks, you said enough. “Uh…is she—”

“You can come in,” She cuts him off. “It’s cold out and I made my hot chocolate.” 

Eddie peeks in and sees you looking at the door at him, arms crossed over your chest. You nod slightly. He then looks back at your mom with a small smile, stepping in when she steps to the side. 

She shuts the door softly, locking it behind him. “You’re also staying. Roads are icy and it’s starting to get late.” Eddie follows her into the kitchen as you follow behind as well. 

A red cup filled with rich hot chocolate and melted marshmallows is placed in front of him after he sits down at the table, shedding his jacket. You grab it from his hand and hang it up before sitting next to him. She places a plate of warmed pecan pie in front of him as well. 

Your mom grips his shoulder softly, walking out of the kitchen allowing you both to have some space. The main light in the living room turns off, the glow of warm Christmas lights are enough to keep it well lit. 

Eddie takes the first sip of hot chocolate, cheeks and chest warming instantly. The glass almost burns his palms as he lifts it and then puts it down. 

“She still thinks you like pecan.” You finally speak. 

Eddie glances at you before looking down at the pie, letting out a small laugh. “Yeah…I feel bad for saying that I liked it.” 

You smile and reach for the plate, eating it yourself so a slice doesn’t go to waste. 

“I wanted to apologize for what you saw tonight and for what I said,” He looks at you. You stare down at the plate, playing with a pecan that had fallen from the caramelized sugar. “I…when I get angry - too angry - I tend to shut down on everyone and everything. It’s not a good thing, and I do want to work on it,” 

“I should’ve never said that to you,” He shakes his head. You finally look over at him, nodding your head slightly. “I love you. And that scares me because I don’t…I don’t want you to end up regretting it.”  

You place your fork down and stand from your chair holding your hands out. He grips your hands and you pull him from his seat. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close. 

“I wouldn’t regret it,” You shake your head. “I don’t,” You pull away and cup his cheeks. Your chin dips slightly as you stare up at him. “You’re my best friend, Eds. You’re all I want - I can never see myself with someone else.” 

The laugh he forces out is watery and his brows pinch together as his eyes stare down at the ground, blinking away the tears that blur his vision. 

Pressing a kiss to his lips before the corner of his lips, your arms wrap around his neck once again, pulling him close. He leans into you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as his shoulders shake. 

Your hand rubs at his back while your other tangles into his hair. “It’s okay…It’s okay,” He adjusts his grip onto you, fingers and rings digging into your skin. “I’m here,” You kiss his temple, moving your forehead to his, nodding slightly. His nose brushes against yours as he nods with you. Your hands cup his jaw once again.

“I’m here.”

| please do not copy my work! comments, feedbacks, reblogs, & requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated! ✿

[dee-writes-anime]

I don’t know if you watched the Disney movie “Haunted Mansion” (the one with Eddie Murphy) since Halloween is just around the corner I thought this one would make you laugh? Imagine the League Of Villains are staying with reader at reader’s families haunted mansion that reader inherited (from a family member) BUUUUUUT……. Reader forgot to tell the league that their family mansion is haunted🤭😅

Just take your time on this one, i understand that college is a pain in the ass but I thought this one would brighten up your day!😃 so take care and remember to eat, drink water, rest and relax you’ll get through it😁👍

Haunted Mansions Aren't for the Weak

FEATURING League Of Villians x Reader (platonic)

SUMMARY Haunted Mansion shenanigans

CONTENT WARNINGS creepy mansions, ghosts, crack

AUTHORS NOTE this idea had me cackling, hope you don't mind the different format :)

Oh my GOD, I can just imagine after a particularly messy job, the League of Villains finds themselves in need of a new hideout. That's when you casually suggest your family mansion. It's huge, tucked away in the middle of nowhere, and basically perfect for keeping a low profile. Without thinking twice, the League agrees.

Upon arrival, the mansion looms before them, towering and intimidating, with ivy creeping up the stone walls and gargoyles perched on the corners of the roof. The overgrown garden whispers in the breeze, and the massive iron gates groan as they swing open. Spinner glances uneasily at the place, muttering, "Great. Of course, it's a creepy mansion in the middle of nowhere."

The inside is even more imposing. Dusty chandeliers, creaky wooden floors, dark tapestries—everything you’d expect in a haunted mansion. But the League doesn't mind; they’ve seen worse. Besides, they're here to lay low, and it's not like anything can scare the most feared villains in the country... or so they think.

You lead them through the darkened corridors and give them a brief tour. “Oh, the rooms upstairs are bigger. Some of them have their own fireplaces. There’s a library down the hall, and the kitchen’s fully stocked. Feel free to explore, make yourselves at home. Oh, and about the ghosts…”

Shigaraki interrupts, scratching at his neck in irritation. “Ghosts? You’re not serious.”

You give a sheepish shrug. “Yeah, well, the place is a little haunted… by my ancestors. But they’re harmless. Nothing to worry about, I swear.”

Dabi, arms crossed, leans against the wall, smirking. “Right. Ghosts. Sure. What are we, five years old?” His tone oozes disbelief, but the moment his arm touches the wall, it groans, and the portrait next to him tilts on its own. He glances at it, then back at you. “You’re messing with us.”

You shake your head, trying to be casual. “Nope. Just, uh, don’t mind them.”

And so, the League settles in, trying to ignore the faint, unsettling noises that seem to echo through the hallways.

The First Night:

That’s when things start to get weird. As night falls, Shigaraki is the first to notice the peculiar happenings. His irritation grows as he hears soft, persistent scratching—from inside the walls. “Who the hell is scratching the walls? Is someone trying to be funny?” His voice cuts through the dark as he storms out of his room, hands twitching with the urge to disintegrate something.

No one answers. It only gets worse as he stalks down the hall, the sounds following him, scratching just out of reach. When he slams a hand on the wall in frustration, the wall scratches back.

“Okay. That’s new,” he mutters, backing away, suspicious now. For once, he isn’t the one scaring people—he’s the one being scared.

Meanwhile, Dabi...

Dabi has always been a skeptic, never one to believe in ghosts or any supernatural nonsense. He scoffs at the others’ complaints and locks himself in one of the rooms, claiming it as his own. He’s dead tired, and all he wants is to sleep.

But sleep doesn’t come easy.

No matter how many flames he conjures, the room stays cold. Icy, in fact. His breath puffs out in clouds as if he were in a freezer. He scowls, huddling under his jacket, muttering, “This is ridiculous.”

Just as he’s about to doze off, something knocks at his door. He groans. “What now?” When he opens it, there’s no one there. He’s about to close it when suddenly, a gust of cold air blows through, extinguishing the fire he had set in the fireplace. The door slams shut behind him, and he grumbles, “Fine. You win, mansion. This place is cursed.”

Despite his bravado, Dabi doesn’t get much sleep that night.

Toga, on the other hand, is thriving.

She’s completely unbothered by the eerie atmosphere. In fact, she’s excited. “Ghosts?” she grins, her eyes wide with curiosity. “I wanna meet them!” She skips down the hallways, gleefully chasing after strange noises and shadowy figures, trying to coax them into playing with her.

At one point, she catches sight of a ghostly figure floating through the walls. “Wait!” she calls out, sprinting after it. She rounds a corner only to find herself face-to-face with a portrait of a stern-looking old woman. The figure from earlier is gone, but the eyes in the painting follow her. Toga laughs. “Aww, you’re shy! Don’t be shy, I just wanna see you!”

The ghost doesn’t answer, but the painting tilts slightly, as if amused by her antics. Toga claps her hands, delighted. “Oh, I like this place!”

Twice’s internal debate hits its peak.

At first, he’s thrilled by the idea of staying in a mansion—it’s way better than the dingy places they’ve hidden in before. But as the ghostly occurrences start piling up, his personalities clash.

“Ghosts aren’t real!” he insists, pacing around his room. “But what if they are?” he counters himself, wringing his hands nervously. “Nah, no such thing as ghosts. I’m not scared of them anyway! Wait, yes I am!”

The lights flicker, and a faint whisper floats through the air. Twice freezes, eyes wide. “Okay, maybe I am scared! No, I’m not! But I am!”

He spends the rest of the night going back and forth with himself, unable to make up his mind if he should be terrified or excited. Every time something creaks or a shadow passes by, he jumps, muttering under his breath about how he’s definitely not scared… except when he is.

Spinner tries to be the voice of reason, but he’s just as shaken.

At first, he brushes off the strange occurrences, chalking them up to the age of the house. “Old houses make noise,” he tells himself, clutching his sword. But when the furniture in his room starts moving on its own, he’s not so sure anymore.

He wakes up to find his bed shifted three feet from the wall. His eyes widen, and he nervously pushes it back, only to find it moved again when he turns around. “Okay… nope. Nope. I hate this.”

Mr. Compress tries to stay composed, but even his patience is tested.

He watches as his finely tuned sleight-of-hand tricks start to malfunction. His carefully hidden compartments seem to open on their own, and the objects inside—his tools of the trade—disappear, only to reappear in random places around the mansion.

At one point, his mask is knocked off his face by an invisible hand. “Well, that’s just rude,” he huffs, hurriedly putting it back on, unnerved but trying to play it off.

Kurogiri, the last bastion of calm, begins to waver.

He usually keeps his cool no matter the situation, but when he appears to check on the others, he looks a bit… frazzled. “There are several spirits in this mansion,” he informs you. “And they are not particularly pleased with our presence.”

You, still oblivious to how badly the League is handling the situation, just wave it off with a laugh. “They’re just bored. They like to play little tricks, but they won’t hurt anyone. Probably.”

The Grand Reveal:

By the end of the night, the League is exhausted, either from chasing ghosts or avoiding them. Dabi is muttering about burning the whole place down. Shigaraki is plotting how to kill the ghosts (if that’s even possible), and Twice is still arguing with himself. Spinner is crouched in a corner, sword in hand, ready to strike at any moving furniture.

Finally, you gather them all in the main hall, completely nonchalant. “I guess I should’ve warned you guys… the house has always been like this. My family made peace with the ghosts ages ago.”

The League stares at you, utterly deadpan. No one is amused.

“Well,” you add with a smile, “at least it’s free rent?”

The rest of their stay is spent with the League trying to avoid the ghosts as much as possible. Dabi never leaves his room without a flame in hand. Shigaraki spends the days glaring at the walls. Toga, meanwhile, continues to gleefully chase after the spirits, making the whole situation even more chaotic.

By the time they leave, no one can deny it—villains or not, haunted mansions are not their thing.

[scoops-aboy86]

🧜‍♂️ Delayed Inheritance, pt 4

(pt 1, pt 2, pt 3; also on ao3)

Prince Stephen is starting to like the name Steve. No one has ever given him a nickname before, and the fact that Eddie has—twice, if you count Stevie, which he would be embarrassed to admit out loud is kind of his favorite because it makes their names match—is a good feeling.

But that fades into the background as he hears the unmistakable echoes of truth in Wayne’s story.

He’s always known that he was born on the sea, but in retrospect it makes no sense because the Queen he knows gets seasick just standing on the docks.

His father is a hard man, who takes what he wants and lets the remaining pieces fall where they may without regard for others. Stephen has never had anything the King happens to want, but he’s seen it in his periphery often enough; the way some of the female servants are kept on even with child, then dismissed when the baby is born and turns out to be a girl. Deep down he knows that he himself is a disappointment and would be easy to discard in favor of another male heir, a better heir. The kingdom barely knows Prince Stephen at all because he’s a throwaway prince; there would be almost nothing to mourn.

So no, it’s not like he’d had any idea about any of this, but… he’s not surprised. It’s just as well that Princess Nancy can be spared from marrying into a family where—

Wait, Nancy.

Stephen flexes his legs to jump to his feet—only he doesn’t have either. Eddie has to lunge and grab him by both shoulders so he doesn’t propel himself into the cave ceiling. Still, Stephen tries to wriggle loose, gripped by a sudden, gut-wrenching urgency. “Stop it, I have to go!”

“Steve—“

“I left the castle with Nancy and then disappeared!” he shouts, not thrashing too hard because he does know that Eddie is just trying to help. “They’ll think—I don’t know, we haven’t always been on great terms with her kingdom, what if they think she had me abducted? Or that she drowned me? My father throws people in the dungeons for a lot less!”

Almost immediately, he sees Wayne’s jaw set in grim understanding.

“Who’s Nancy?” Eddie asks from where he’s still half clinging on.

Something in his voice makes Stephen feel incredibly self-conscious all of a sudden. He glances around at Eddie, certain he’s blushing (do merfolk blush?), and meets those big brown eyes head on. Eddie is… striking, to say the least. Wild and fierce when he’d first grabbed him, though that had only been to help—Stephen had realized that as soon as his shirt was gone and he could finally catch his breath. And then Eddie had immediately stollen it away again with his dark hair, dark scales trailing up his sides, and translucent gray fins that tapered to undulating fringes. Something beautiful yet just rough enough around the edges to seem real, staring at him with mouth slightly agape and those eyes, drinking Stephen in like no one, not even his fiancée, ever had in his entire life.

Now Eddie sounds like he’s biting back on something unpleasantly close to disappointment, and Stephen can’t stand it.

“She’s, uh.” Stephen’s tutors would slap him across the back of his hand with a ruler for improper diction if they’d heard that. “Our families arranged for us to marry, I’d never even seen her before a few days ago. I just wanted to show her the beach… She hasn’t done anything wrong, Eddie, if anything happens to her it’ll be my fault!”

Like my real mother, Stephen doesn’t add out loud, because he does want to make sure Nancy is safe but can’t help the new ache in his heart for someone he’d never had the chance to meet. Ariel had been used and cast aside for a throwaway son raised in a gilded prison; for him. That hardly seemed worth it. He’d never known her and had only today even learned what kind of world she might have come from, that he might belong to now that he’s escaped his father’s castle—No, not a castle. A prison.

So yes, he is pleading now; he can’t bear to be King Richard’s excuse for causing any further harm.

He can see the way Eddie softens, even while remaining uncertain. “I hear you, Stevie… I’m just not sure how much we can really do. If she’s on land, how are we supposed to get anywhere near her?”

Stephen clasps a hand over one of the mer’s before even thinking about it, thrilled at the readiness with which Eddie says we. No hesitation to lump himself in without having to be asked. Either that’s just the kind of person Eddie is or he’s that willing to throw in with Stephen even though they’ve only just met; both options are incredibly endearing. “… I have no idea. Maybe if I dry off enough on the beach, my legs will come back?”

Even if that works, he won’t have any clothes or a way to get back inside the castle with any kind of subtlety. The castle guard are mostly indifferent to him but not so indifferent as to let something like that go unreported. But maybe, if that first part works out, the next step will come to him then.

They both jump when Uncle Wayne clears his throat, Steve immediately embarrassed for forgetting about him for a minute.

“Heroic as that sounds,” Wayne says diplomatically—Eddie huffs at Steve’s side, both a sound and a slight current that he feels against his side (against his gills, he’s still wrapping his mind around that), and that’s the only reason Steve catches the gently teasing quirk of the older mer’s expression—“you’re a prince down here too, Steve. You’re probably the only reason King Triton hasn’t retaliated against your father all these years. As soon as you have official recognition of the crown, you’ll have the might of the sea at your back; we just have to get you an audience.”

That sounds reasonable, the smart thing to do even if it’ll take longer, so Steve reluctantly agrees. Wayne just needs to talk to a few former colleagues to get him in to see the King (his grandfather), or at least one of the Princesses (aunts, he has aunts.) Shouldn’t take more than a day.

Which is fine. It’s fine! He can wait. He’s used to not having much to do most of the time outside of his lessons, any sparring practice he can provoke out of the guards or knights, and the intensely boring official functions where he just has to stand around for hours in uncomfortable clothes and look regal or whatever. Not like the nerves of meeting a whole new family he’d never known about and what their court functions might be like are eating him up inside, just as much as the worries about Nancy and her people, which doesn’t make him feel like a self-absorbed asshole at all, no sir—

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice nudges him gently out of his downward spiral once Wayne is gone. “Want to do something while we wait? I can show you the shipwreck my friends and I hang out in sometimes.”

Grateful beyond words for the distraction, with his head still spinning from the revelations and panic, Steve agrees almost on top of Eddie’s last word. Eddie’s smile in response is easy and lopsided, with dimples that make Steve’s heart ache sweetly. Makes him feel like everything’s going to turn out just fine, as long as he takes the mer’s hand and holds on tight.

So he does.

(pt 5, pt 6; also on ao3)

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[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 7

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work.

Eddie's classic car roared up the gravel driveway, the engine's purr echoing through the quiet morning air. The sleek, polished body of the car gleamed under the sunlight, its timeless elegance a stark contrast to the tension that gripped the house.

Bucky clicked his tongue, his eyes narrowing in disdain. "Tsk, show off," he muttered. You shot him a sidelong glance, annoyed that he was still hanging around despite your earlier insistence that he leave.

"Don't kick me out. I want to see where this is going," Bucky said, leaning back casually as if he had all the time in the world.

Eddie moved swiftly, opening the back door of his car and helping Charles out. Charles looked like he'd been through hell. His face was swollen and bruised, one eye nearly shut from the swelling, and dried blood crusted at the corner of his mouth. He winced with every step, leaning heavily on Eddie for support.

Before you could fully process the sight, a hysterical scream pierced the air. "Kyaa!!! Charles, who did this to you?" Susan, your mother, ran out of the house, her face pale with panic.

She reached Charles and frantically checked his face, her hands trembling. Without a second thought, she helped Charles into the mansion, her expression a mix of fear and anguish.

Bucky watched the commotion with a detached interest, his eyes flicking between you and the unfolding drama. "Well," he said, his voice breaking through your daze, "looks like things just got a lot more interesting."

Leaving the three of you dumbfounded by your dramatic mother, you sighed and looked at the boys. "It’s already come to this. Let’s talk with cigars and whiskey."

“Yes. Let’s go!” Bucky walked inside, his steps light and eager. You and Eddie lingered behind.

You couldn't share Bucky's enthusiasm. Instead, you grumbled, feeling the weight of yet another problem. One issue had just been resolved, and now a new one had emerged. Eddie gave you a sympathetic smile, his eyes filled with understanding.

You sighed deeply. "The next time we meet, I hope it’s not about drugs and debt."

Eddie nodded, his expression somber. “I’ll drink to that.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍

You, Bucky, and Eddie are drinking whiskey in your study while your mother tends to Charles's wounds.

“What did a priest do to get beaten up like that?” you ask, leaning back in your chair.

“He got into trouble with ‘The Gospel,’” Eddie replies.

You raise your eyebrows. “Who?”

“John Dixon, aka ‘The Gospel.’ He’s an evangelical nutjob who also runs a cocaine syndicate,” Eddie explains.

You’re taken aback, hardly able to believe what you just heard. Charles, sitting nearby with a bandage on his forehead, interjects.

“He’s not evangelical. That man is a liar. His people sell that devil powder at schools,” Charles says with conviction.

You cross your arms, incredulous. “So you confronted them? All by yourself?”

Charles looks at you, pain and determination in his eyes. “I know what those drugs can do. It ruined my life. I don’t want others to go through the same hell I did.”

He leans forward, his expression earnest. “You have to stop him.”

“Me?” you respond, surprised.

“Yes, because you can. You have to save people from a man like ‘The Gospel,’” Charles insists. "If this were medieval times, he’d be the corrupt pope, and you’d be the martyr trying to bring him down."

Bucky, always eager for excitement, chimes in. “This is getting more exciting. Can I join?”

“No!” you and Eddie answer simultaneously.

“I’ll provide you with the guns,” Bucky offers, unfazed.

You consider his proposal for a moment. “Fine,” you agree, knowing you’ll need all the help you can get.

Before you go to meet the fake evangelical, your mother chases after you. She grabs your arm and says, “You have to avenge your brother.”

She's so determined to get her stepson some justice. You sigh inwardly; since you've come back, she hasn't shown this kind of worry for you, only for Charles and Charlotte.

After she leaves, you notice Bucky and Eddie looking at you. Bucky says, “It’s just me and my dad. And I’m sure he’d like you.”

“Huh?” you reply, confused.

Eddie chimes in, not wanting to be outdone, “All my family likes you.”

You chuckle, “Let’s go.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

You arrive at the chapel where ‘The Gospel’ has his hideout. It’s a dilapidated old building, its stained glass windows cracked and dirty. The air is thick with the scent of incense, masking the more sinister activities taking place within.

Eddie leans in and whispers, “Be careful with him.”

“I know,” you respond, steeling yourself for what’s to come.

As you approach the entrance, Bucky nudges you and hands you a small revolver. “Just in case things get messy.”

You nod, tucking the weapon into your coat. The three of you push open the heavy wooden doors and step inside. The interior of the chapel is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the pews.

At the front, a figure stands at the altar, preaching to a small group of followers. His voice is smooth, charismatic—a stark contrast to the malevolence you know he harbors.

At the front, ‘The Gospel’—John Dixon—stands, his face a mask of calm malevolence. He looks up as you approach, a twisted smile playing on his lips.

John’s eyes flick to Eddie first. “We meet again,” he says, his voice dripping with false piety.

Then his gaze shifts to you. “So you’re the priest’s older sister,” he says, sizing you up.

"You hurt my family," you say, your voice low and filled with barely-contained fury.

John’s tone turns accusatory. “He stopped God’s plan that I received. That’s why we gave him a warning.”

Listening to this madman talk, you realize he belongs in an asylum, not leading a drug syndicate.

John’s expression softens into a mockery of benevolence. “I will forgive and forget if he apologizes to me,” he declares.

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous. Then you cross your arms defiantly. “Fuck no.”

The room falls silent, everyone taken aback by your boldness. Bucky immediately grins, thoroughly enjoying the confrontation. “Go on,” he whispers, urging you on.

You step forward, your voice steady and resolute. “Charles was too soft on you. Not me. I’ll wipe out people like you from this earth.”

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I'm so glad!

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---

They’re up early to hit the road. 

Bobby watches as Christopher gets a little emotional, saying goodbye to Buck. Their relationship has always made Bobby strangely proud of Buck. It did from the moment Buck contacted Bobby, saying Eddie was strapped in terms of childcare, and needed to bring seven year-old Chris to the station for a few hours. It has ever since then. Bobby remembers probationary firefighter Buck, unsure how to step into Abby’s life and support her through tough times. He’s never had that struggle, when it came to Eddie and Chris. 

Now the whole thing makes Bobby even more emotional. A pride he isn’t entitled to. There is something so inherently good and nurturing and kind in Buck. Bobby can’t see how any of it would be inherited from him, but… Well, it’s nice to think that even a sliver of it was.

“You’ll just have to come visit, right?” Buck says softly to Chris. “The zoo animals miss you, I’m pretty sure.”

Christopher laughs. “Okay. We can, right, Dad?”

Eddie looks gobsmacked.

“Yes. Yes, we sure can.”

Bobby smiles. Maybe things are looking up there. Bobby hasn’t, and won’t, lose hope that they just might get Eddie back one day. 

🍏

Buck drives first. Bobby offers, but he insists. He likes driving. He wants to be the one to do the most of it, if he can. It’s stabilizing. It makes him feel in control.

They stop for coffee and donuts. Eddie fed them breakfast, but they still stop. It’s a way to avoid really getting into another conversation, Buck supposes. Probably not the healthiest way to start a twelve hour drive. Avoidance. 

They don’t really end up talking much at all until they cross into New Mexico. And even then, it’s Bobby who starts it. 

“This is going to be a long twelve hours if we sit in uncomfortable silence,” he cautions.

“Eleven and a half, now,” Buck replies. 

Bobby sighs. 

“Sorry,” Buck says. “Honestly? I don’t know what to say right now. Like, I don’t know what to ask.”

“Maybe we can start by talking about other things?” Bobby suggests. 

Buck nods. “I can do that. Like what?”

Bobby thinks. See? It’s hard. In theory, they already know everything that’s going on with each other, that isn’t about this. 

“It was good catching up with Eddie,” Bobby says. 

Buck nods quickly, though he feels his cheeks heating.

“Yeah, I, uh… Well, I don’t need to tell you how much I miss him. I’m not good at hiding it.”

Bobby chuckles. “Well, neither was I, I guess. Poor Ravi.”

“Between the two of us, we might have made him hate Eddie,” Buck winces. 

“Oh, that’s a later problem,” Bobby says. “When he’s back.”

Buck blinks. “When, not if?” 

“Mhm,” Bobby replies.

“I like your confidence,” Buck says.

Bobby shrugs. “Just a feeling.”

“Didn’t pin you for a relentless optimist,” Buck says. He’s fishing. He needs to know Bobby’s reasoning. He wants to believe it, too. 

Bobby chuckles. “I’m not. I just know the two of you.”

The two of them? As though Buck factors into that decision at all? It sounds like Tommy accusing Eddie of being his competition. It sounds like Maddie asking would it be so crazy? Buck needs to change the topic, fast.

“Who is my biological mother?” He blurts. 

Bobby coughs a little, stricken by the whiplash of the question. Whoops.

The truth is, Buck actually finds he’s not too desperate to know. Now that he knows her decision, the context, he feels calm about it. She isn’t a bad person, probably. She was just someone with a hard choice. Does it hurt? Yes. Does it make him less curious about her? Also, slightly yes. Doesn’t sound like there’s much room for a person to be curious about. Maybe that’s unfair. Really, he just wanted to stop talking about Eddie. 

“I guess that was bound to come up,” Bobby says. 

Well, yeah?

“Uh,” he continues. “The uncomfortable part is that you already sort of know of her.”

Buck’s jaw drops a little. How is that possible? He doesn’t know anyone from Bobby’s previous life. He said it was before he met his wife. 

“Yeah, how is that possible?” Buck asks. Then it strikes him. Bobby said she was very talented. “Oh god, is she a celebrity?” 

Bobby chuckles. “No. Though, I suppose she could have been, in another life. She was on the Olympic track for figure skating.” 

Wait…

“Heidi Schatsky?” Buck asks. 

“Yep,” Bobby answers. 

“The person I emailed asking for embarrassing figure skating photos of you from the 70s? That Heidi Schatsky?”

“I wouldn’t call the photos embarrassing.”

“Bobby, that’s…” Buck feels heated with embarrassment. “That’s mortifying. I found my own mother by accident to make a cardboard cut out of you.” 

“Well, imagine my horror when you did.”

Buck groans. He feels like he’s messed something up without knowing there was something to mess up. He feels like an idiot. But then he remembers something. 

“Wait,” he says. “She was really nice.”

Bobby nods. “Yes. She’s a kind person.”

“She said to say hi, asked how you were…” Buck continues. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but considering everything…”

Bobby seems to take a second to think about that.

“I’m sure she’s had a lot of time to reflect,” Bobby says. “Like I have.”

“Hmm,” Buck muses. “Sorry. If you don’t want to talk about her.”

“I said you could ask anything,” Bobby replies. “I meant it.”

But obviously it’s not his favorite topic. Which means, if he does have any questions, he should get them out of the way now. 

“So you met her figure skating?” Buck asks. He’s not sure why he keeps asking. Again, he’s not even really that pressed about her. He just… Maybe he just wants the narrative clear in his head. 

[steddieas-shegoes]

is that tax fraud?

for @corrodedcoffinfest warm-up round prompt ‘taxes’

rated t | 671 words | cw: language | tags: they’re just so stupid, and I love them, look Steve is here!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never filed taxes?” Jeff asked Gareth as they sat around trying to write a song.

Keyword: trying.

Now it looked like they were gonna be figuring out how to keep Gareth out of fucking prison for tax fraud.

“I thought our band accountant handled it!” Gareth exclaimed.

“We don’t have a band accountant! The label just handles our money!” Jeff exclaimed back.

“Okay, let’s calm down.” Eddie, the voice of reason at this moment, held his hands up towards them. “Technically, Gareth only turned 18 two years ago. That’s only two years of back taxes. And if he’s honest, it’ll be fine! He probably didn’t even make enough the first year for them to care.”

“Well, I did get an inheritance from my grandpa who died,” Gareth said unhelpfully. “Does that count as income?”

Everyone stared at him in shock.

“This is a joke,” Freak said from his spot on the couch. “Has to be.”

“Oh my god, our drummer is actively committing tax fraud,” Jeff put his head in his hands.

“Guys, it’s fine! I’ll just file it all this year,” Gareth assured them.

“We should call someone. Right? Someone should be told about this,” Eddie started pacing the floor, wearing a trail into the shag carpet.

Who even put shag carpet in here? Shag was terrible.

The door swung open and Steve walked in holding three large pizzas and a grocery bag full of sodas.

“They didn’t have any Mountain Dew, but that’s probably for the best. You guys have a conference call in an hour so eat up,” he said as he started setting everything on the coffee table. He looked around when he realized it was way too quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Stevie. I fear our drummer may be going to prison.”

Steve paled. “What? Why?”

“He forgot to tell the government he has money. For two years.”

“He what?” Steve looked at Gareth to explain.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to file my own taxes! I thought we had a guy!”

Steve looked between all of them. He looked at Gareth.

“You do have a guy. The label provides a guy. I think his name is Sam? Maybe Shane.” Steve shook his head. “Either way. You have a tax guy. He filed for all of you last year.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

“What do you mean? We all filed for ourselves last year. Except Gareth, apparently,” Jeff was frowning at the floor.

“Uh, well, you may have given double the money, then,” Steve laughed, though this wasn’t exactly funny.

“So let me get this straight: the label provided a guy to do our taxes without telling us. We all file our own taxes after this guy already did. No one caught it. Gareth’s the only one who hasn’t double paid into the fucking government?” Eddie asked, face red with shame or anger, it was hard to say which.

“Yeah, appears so.”

“Fuck you guys. Had me worried I was going to prison and I’m the only one who’s done shit right!” Gareth laughed. He reached for a slice of pizza and sat back in his chair, smug smile on his face. “Feels good to have my taxes paid.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Freak rolled his eyes. “So how do we get money back if we double filed?”

“Not sure we can,” Jeff sighed. “Probably isn’t worth figuring it out anyway. It’s not like we were rolling in for last year’s taxes.”

“But this year…” Eddie started.

They all looked at each other and nodded.

Yeah. This year would be different. They’d skyrocketed after the release of their first album and their first tour. Money was…pretty fucking great.

“So…pizza?” Steve asked.

They all nodded and started grabbing for their food.

“If you guys want, I’m sure Nancy can try to find a way to get money back. She’s good at that stuff,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, she’d call us idiots.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Hey!”

[runninriot]

written for @steddie-week day 4

and the @steddiesongfics july prompt

Easy

prompts: trade, body swap & song: Nik Kershaw (Wouldn't It Be Good) | wc: ~1.2k | rated t | cw: recreational drug use | tags: steve has a bad relationship with his parents, good uncle wayne appreciation, repressed feelings, steve has a crush on eddie, friends to lovers | also on ao3

They’re lying on Eddie’s floor, sharing a joint like they often do. Hanging out, just the two of them, enjoying each other’s company.

Eddie’s been rambling for the past ten minutes, talks about how he’d like to swap bodies with Steve for a day, how he’d want to experience a day in Steve’s life first-hand.

   “Why the hell would you want that?”

   “You got it easy,” Eddie says matter-of-factly and Steve snorts at this very untrue claim.

   “Yeah right, I wish.”

   “What could possibly make Mr popular rich boy’s life hard, huh?” Eddie teases and Steve knows he doesn’t mean it in a hurtful way but it still stings.

   “You don’t know a thing bout it,” he answers simply, before snatching the joint from Eddie’s fingers and taking a long drag.

Steve doesn’t want to open up that box. He came here to forget, not to talk about what’s keeping him up at night.

   “So? Tell me then. I wanna know. Because- and don’t take this the wrong way, Stevie – but I really can’t see it. I mean, look at me. I’m certified trailer trash. I know what it’s like to live on nothing but toast and peanut butter for weeks because the washing machine broke and the next pay check isn’t yet due.” Eddie laughs but Steve can’t find it in him to join in on it.

He hates when Eddie calls himself that, trailer trash. As if living in a trailer park makes him less of a person. It doesn’t! It just means that Eddie and his uncle are less fortunate than others.

Steve didn’t do shit to earn the comfort of growing up in a big house, was just... lucky to be born into the Harrington family.

Wayne on the other hand is doing his best, is giving his all to make their life as good as possible.

Steve envies that.

Wayne is an honest and hard-working man, and even if Eddie likes to joke around and belittle himself for their situation, Steve knows he cherishes everything Wayne has done for him. Steve knows Eddie will do everything to make him proud. To repay him for taking him in when he needed a place to stay. For always being there for him, for supporting him. For loving him unconditionally.

They might not have much but they have each other. It’s something Steve would trade everything he owns for without hesitation.

In a heartbeat, he’d give up his inheritance for a relationship with his parents that is as respectful and loving as the one between Eddie and his uncle.

Because Steve might have a nice car, a pool in the backyard, and a name that can open doors for him but- at home, he feels lonely, unloved. He’s a failure, his father keeps reminding him. And worst of all, he’s afraid to be his true self around them because they’d never accept it, would never understand.

   “Steve? You with me?” Eddie pushes himself up on one arm, his face hovering over Steve’s. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to-“

   “Nah, you’re good. Just got a little lost in my thoughts.” Steve offers a weak smile but he can sense that Eddie doesn’t buy it.

He knows him too well.

Has this annoying ability to read Steve like an open book.

It’s like he can see right through him, can see right through Steve’s little white lies whenever he tries to talk himself out of something.

There’s only one thing Eddie doesn’t know about him and never will. It’s Steve’s best kept secret; not even Robin knows. Because he can’t risk his parents finding out about it.

If Eddie knew, maybe he’d understand and take back what he said earlier because yeah, sure, Steve’s life might seem easy from an outsider’s point of view, someone who only sees the shiny exterior of his golden cage.

It’s a false illusion, because contrary to Steve, Eddie does not have to hide a certain part of himself out of fear of the consequences.

Wayne loves him regardless, accepts all of him. Wayne knows, and he’d put up a fight with anyone who doesn’t agree with Eddie’s... choices.

Steve’s father would kill him if he ever found out that his son is-

   “Alriiight, enough for you!” Eddie sits up and reaches for the joint that’s slowly burning down in Steve’s hand.

Their fingers brush and it feels like the world stops for a second. Steve finds Eddie’s gaze, can’t look away, slowly loses himself in Eddie’s dark brown eyes. The air is crackling between them and Steve feels tiny electric shocks prickle on his skin when Eddie lifts his free hand and cups his face.

The hand doesn’t linger, unfortunately, moves up his temple to brush a strand of hair back from Steve’s forehead. It’s a kind gesture and Steve wishes he could lean into the gentle touch.

But he can’t. He can’t let the wall crumble because Eddie would instantly know what it means.

Would know that, behind layers of pretentious confidence, Steve hides this vulnerable part of himself.

That there, locked away in his fragile heart, burns a small flame. A flame he tried to smother, that keeps flickering unrelenting.

Because every time Eddie looks at him, every time he smiles, every time they touch – it’s like gasoline to the flame, setting his insides ablaze.

Eddie’s hand retreats but the sensation on Steve’s face remains, hot and red. He knows he’s blushing, hopes he can blame it on the buzz from the weed.

   “Sometimes I wish-“ Steve realises too late that he said it out loud.

   “Wish what?” Eddie asks, curiously waiting for Steve to continue.

   “Sometimes I wish things were different.”

   “What would you change?”

    This right here, Steve thinks. You being so close but not close enough.

   “I’d change who I am.”

   “Who would you want to be, if you could choose?”

    Yours.

   “I’d want to be someone who’s brave.”

   “Pff, you’re literally the bravest person I know.” Eddie scoffs affectionately.

   “If I’m so brave, then why I am so scared?” Steve knows it’s more than he should confess, too much for Eddie not to keep digging.

   “Scared of what?” Eddie looks at him like he’s searching for the answer in Steve’s eyes, intense and pensive. And then he smiles, bright and warm and fond in a way that makes Steve’s heart stutter.

Inside him, the flame flares up, spreads heat from his heart through his veins and Steve knows, in that moment, this might be his only chance.

   “Scared of my feelings for you.”

Eddie kisses him and suddenly, everything does seem easy.

Kissing Eddie back is easy.

Leaning into his touch and holding him tight is easy.

Loving Eddie is easy.

Because it feels right.

It doesn’t matter what his parents will think of him if they know – this is right and it’s all he wants.

This is who he is underneath.

This is who he wants to be, openly and unafraid.

   “You don’t have to change, Stevie. You don't have to be anyone else. I love you just the way you are.”

And that, Steve realises, is more than enough.

[steviestits]

In The Family Way - Part 4.1

Written for an anon prompt, which can be read in its entirety on this fic's masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Background Argyle/Jonathan Rating: T Summary: The Munson family has never had the typical values that most modern Americans have as they find thrill in all that's mysterious and spooky. Steve Harrington, a black widow omega, hadn't known this when he mated with the family's eldest alpha, Eddie, and thought that he'd be another easy mark that he could kill to inherit the millions that Eddie owned. However, not only do all his murder attempts fail, but Eddie actually enjoys them! And to make matters worse, the alpha wants to try for a pup! Steve has to find a way to off Eddie for good, before he gets pregnant and maybe actually falls for the death-crazed alpha. (Addams Family Values au set in the Omegaverse after the events of the movie with Steve as Debbie and Eddie as Fester) Trigger Warning: Attempted Murder as a love language, Mpreg

(Link to previous part)

In Steve’s defense, when he had agreed to take Grandmama Joyce’s potion, he hadn’t been thinking probably because he had let his guard down due to their emotional moment. He, also, hadn’t thought to rescind the statement since he hadn’t thought Eddie would act so quickly on the conversation, giving him time to redirect the alpha’s attentions until he managed to finally off the bastard. Eddie, however, never behaved as a typical alpha would.

So, unlike the other alphas who would’ve simply left it to Steve to call, Eddie had got in contact with Grandmama Joyce. Then first thing in the morning, when Steve should’ve been getting his beauty rest, Eddie had dragged excitedly the exhausted omega out of bed, wanting to drive to the Munson family home as quickly as possible. He’d apparently told Grandmama Joyce about their problem, and she had worked through the night to help concoct a potion that would help Steve become pregnant with a pup. He’d never seen an alpha so excited to have a pup with their omega. It would’ve adorable if Steve wasn’t still trying to kill him.

That’s why Steve was now sitting across from Grandmama Joyce at a small garden table in the Munson family’s conservatory, amongst the bare rose bushes and Venus fly traps. Steve frowned as he looked down at the frothing broth before him that Grandmama Joyce had put in front of him, regretting not trying harder to kill Eddie the previous night. To be honest, the situation had gotten wildly out of hand since the entire family should be dead by now. He’d tried to everyone twice, in act, but they only seemed to enjoy his murder attempts. Most of them took it as a sign of affection, that he cared enough to plot their murders.

“And this will get me pregnant?” Steve asked skeptically.

“No, no,” Joyce said. “It will increase your chances of getting pregnant. Since you and Eddie are having such problems conceiving, after all.”

They weren’t having problems conceiving as Steve was still taking his birth control, even though he’d told Eddie that he’d stopped. Sex was a good way to control the formerly virgin alpha, and a roll in the sheets was a good way to distract Eddie from his true intentions. It had nothing to do with the fact that Eddie had improved sexually or that Steve enjoyed the way the alpha would bend over backwards to please him. He had absolutely zero feelings towards Eddie whatsoever. And besides, even if Eddie was better at sex now, it wasn’t as if Steve could stop trying to kill his mate as that would make him seem like a quitter. Steve was a lot of things, just not a quitter.

“I’m sure it’ll happen eventually,” he replied with a forced smile. “There’s no need to go through all this trouble on my account.”

“It’s no trouble, dear. You’re family, after all. Until death do us part.” Joyce laughed at that and winked, as if the two were sharing an inside joke about Steve’s murder attempts. “I want to see you and Eddie start one of your own.”

“That’s so kind of you, Grandmama. We truly appreciate how much you care for us.”

“I know.” She then placed her hands over Steve’s lovingly. “We all know. Don’t think I didn’t catch that arsenic you slipped in my tea earlier. So sweet of you.”

“Of course. Anything for my dear family.”

It was just Steve’s luck to come across the only family that used arsenic and cyanide as regular seasonings. He didn’t think he’d done anything to deserve such rotten luck, to be honest. After all, his parents had it coming after getting him the G.I. Joe instead of the Ballerina Barbie like he’d asked. And his other alphas hadn’t cared about him, losing interest in him the moment they had officially mated, which meant they also had to go. So, there was no reason at all for karma to curse him like this since all his actions were one hundred percent justified.

“Go on. Don’t be shy,” Joyce insisted. “Drink up.”

Staring down at the gray, brackish liquid, Steve couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose. He knew if he did get pregnant, the pup would be the cutest in the world, because how could it not with his genetics? However, he couldn’t be certain that Eddie wouldn’t become as uncaring as his other alphas once Steve birthed the pup. There was also no guarantee that Steve would make a good parent. What if he was an awful one like his own, ruining his child’s life by getting the wrong toy thus throwing off their whole sense of self? It was better to he found a way to finally kill Eddie, so he could move on with his life rather than actually get pregnant with a pup.

It didn’t look like Grandmama Joyce would be taking no as an answer even as she stared at him with a sweet smile, and he couldn’t reject the home remedy since it would raise suspicions that he was only after the Munson fortune, that his murder attempts weren’t done out of love for them but for their money. All Steve could do was lift the potion to his lips and chug it. He doubted whatever weird remedy that Joyce concocted would be stronger than his birth control, so he should be fine.

At least, that’s what Steve assured himself until he felt a dull ache in his abdomen. Sweat began to bead at Steve’s forehead while his body felt flushed. He’d never experienced going into heat before, as he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Eddie that his parents had made him go on heavy suppressants since he presented, but he’d attended health class in high school. The signs were there, however. Steve was about to experience his first heat.

“Oh dear,” Grandmama Joyce said, placing a hand over her mouth in shock. “Maybe I made it a bit too strong. It wasn’t supposed to work this quickly.”

“Yeah? No shit,” Steve groaned as his voice lost its false sweetness that he usually used to make others think he was a passive omega.

“It’s okay. Nothing to worry about. We have plenty of guest rooms, and we could even trade homes if you’re worried about the other alphas in the family.”

Steve wanted to disagree, only for his abdomen to flare in pain again. There was no way that he’d make it home with his heat coming on so quickly. Also, the thought of having alphas around during his first heat made him nervous, even if they were already mated to other omegas. That left him with no other choice other than to take her up on her offer. Though, he did take a mental note to make Eddie’s death especially painful when he did eventually kill him.

Part 3.3 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 4.2

Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to update. Don't want to bore you with the details, but life has been super shitty lately. Hopefully, March is a better month for me. Edit: It wasn't...

[livwritesstuff]

uh so i was feeling like writing something angsty and ever since i wrote this a little bit ago i can’t stop thinking about the idea of what the upside down coming back decades later would look like, however it’s a bummer and not the vibe i want for my steddie!dads verse so consider this an au for an au or whatever idk

It’s a normal, average, mundane, regular Wednesday when Dustin calls.

They don’t talk as much as they used to, but that’s adult life, Steve supposes. 

They both have entire lives now, spouses and children and jobs that consume pretty much every waking hour. The near-1000 miles that separates Steve and Eddie in Massachusetts from Dustin in Indiana doesn’t help things either, and seeing as how Dustin had long-since inherited the Hawkins Lab research from Owens when he retired back in the mid-2000s, that won’t be changing any time soon.

Steve is home when Dustin calls, and between counseling clients, so when the phone rings and lights up with his name, Steve picks it up with a grin.

“Hey man, what’s goin’ on!”

Nothing but silence comes through Dustin’s end for a while – such a long time that Steve checks to make sure that the call didn’t drop or his phone didn’t die or something (and neither had happened, so it’s definitely a Dustin thing).

“Dustin?” he asks, “You there?”

Silence, still.

Then –

“Steve.”

Dustin sounds…not normal, and Steve feels the grin slide off his face.

“What?”

“Steve,” he chokes, “It’s…it’s back.”

Steve feels his heart stop for a second, feels it like all the blood in his veins came to an abrupt halt for just a moment.

“The Upside Down,” Dustin continues, “It…all of…it’s back.”

He sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe Steve’s the one sinking beneath the surface, just like he’d done forty years ago when he’d taken Dustin’s place on that boat and got dragged into hell through the depths of Lover’s Lake.

Steve hangs up the phone, his hands shaking.

His knees feel shaky too, like they can’t support his weight anymore despite doing so for nearly sixty years.

They’ve been giving him problems lately – his knees. Nothing too crazy; he can still go on his runs and putter around the yard and all that. It’s just a part of aging, he supposes, and he hadn’t minded aging before – liked it, even. Liked his greying hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes and his achy knees, because there’d been a period of time many years ago when he wasn’t sure he’d make it long enough to experience that inevitability of life.

Right this second though, he hates it, hates the way it makes him realize he’s not as nimble as he used to be, the way his reaction time isn’t the same anymore, because he knows that’s what had gotten him through those horrible years back in the mid-eighties.

He lowers himself down, and as his ass hits the tile floor of the bathroom – his daughters’ bathroom, the one they’ve shared practically their whole lives, the one Moe lost her first tooth in, the one Robbie pierced her own ears in, the one Hazel will be getting ready for prom in soon – Dustin calls him again.Steve doesn’t pick up, too busy kicking himself for not considering sooner the possibility of this sooner, for not having a plan ready to execute to keep their daughters safe the way no adult had done for him.

He can feel an old instinct – the urge to gather his loved ones close – starting to kick in, his mind starting to race as he catalogs the people who make up his small corner of the world. 

Hazel is easy – she’s at the high school just down the road. He can have her back home, back within arm’s reach, in a matter of minutes.

Robin and Nancy are next closest, still living in Boston after all these years. Steve would wager a guess that they’ll be hearing from Dustin soon if they haven’t already, and then they’ll probably head Steve and Eddie’s way, and then they’ll all regroup. 

They’ll figure out what their next moves are.

Moe and Robbie are trickier with both of them living in New York City and likely unwilling to leave their school and their jobs and their friends without any warning whatsoever. Moe is getting more and more reasonable the older she gets, so Steve may have to start with her and hope that Robbie follows.

Moe is twenty-two now. 

Moe is older than both of her dads had been when Eddie had nearly died, when Steve had carried him out of hell and made sure he didn’t. All three of their daughters – even seventeen-year-old Hazel – are older than Steve had been when he got sucked into that horrible mess, and they’re still so damn young. 

With two decades of parenting under his belt, he finds it kind of unbelievable that anybody had looked at his sixteen-year-old face and seen anything but a child, nevermind actually asked him to do the things that he’d done.

Dustin calls him two more times before he gives up. Only a moment later, Steve hears Eddie’s phone ring downstairs, and then he hears Eddie’s jovial tone as he answers the call. 

He goes quiet real quick after that.

Just as Steve is deciding who to call first – Hazel’s school or Moe – his phone vibrates, two quick buzzes that can only indicate a text from Robin.

He opens it.

did dustin call you?

Steve lets out a heavy breath because, fuck, it’s real.

Yeah, he texts back, then adds –

This fucking sucks

40 years

As Steve watches the bubbles of Robin’s incoming response, he can vaguely hear Eddie’s ascent of the stairs, still on the phone with Dustin. 

The bubbles disappear.

“Fuck you, Dustin,” he hears Eddie snarl, “This is on you.” There’s silence for a while, and Eddie seems to pause in the hallway just in front of their bedroom door. Then, “Yeah, I’ll talk to him…I know…later, man. Love you. Be safe.”

Steve looks down at his phone to see that Robin is still typing, only for the bubbles to disappear again a second later.

Finally –

nance is going back

i’m going with her

Steve could throw up.

He almost does, he’s pretty sure, although he’s not positive because he might be having an out of body experience, or maybe he’s dissociating, or maybe it’s a fucking PTSD flashback or something. He doesn’t know.

He should know, or so his handful of psych degrees would suggest, and he probably would know if it was happening to someone else, but then again, he’s always worn blinders when it comes to himself.

That was true about him when all this shit started in 1983, and it’s still true now, almost forty years later.

Forty fucking years.

He doesn’t look up when Eddie comes into the bathroom, joining him on the floor with his back against the bathtub.

“Dustin took offense to you hanging up on him,” he says, and Steve can hear the way he’s forcing humor into his tone.

As if any of this shit is funny.

“Erica and the kids left with Claudia,” Eddie continues, answering a question Steve probably would’ve gotten around to asking Dustin himself if it weren’t for the whole hanging up on him thing, “Erica went kicking and screaming, obviously. I offered up our house, but they’re still deciding where they want to camp out. And everyone has agreed not to say a word to Jim and Joyce.”

Yeah, that makes sense, seeing as they’re both in their eighties and perpetually acting like they’re thirty years younger – at a minimum.

Not that Steve would know anything about that.

Definitely not.

“He said he’s one-hundred percent positive that it’s all still contained to Hawkins, so…” Eddie pauses, “We don’t have to, like, track down the girls or anything. Just make sure they don’t go anywhere near Indiana.”

And that, at least, is an actual relief.

“Robin’s going back,” Steve tells him, because there’s no point waiting to address that particular issue in this whole fucking mess.

The so I’m going too is implied, because that has never needed to be said when it came to Steve and Robin.

The way Eddie’s face changes evades Steve’s ability to describe. It makes him regret saying anything – that’s for fucking sure. Makes him wish he’d just snuck away in the dead of night.

“C’mon man, we’ve picked up a whole fuckin’ litter over the years,” Eddie says, and he’s still forcing humor into his tone, “You can’t leave me to fend off the masses alone – the years have made me weak-willed, I’ll surrender immediately.”

Steve manages a snort, but he still looks down at the floor all the same.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else for a while, but his hand wraps around Steve’s ankle as if there was enough brute strength in the one appendage to keep him rooted to the bathroom floor.

(Strangely enough, it feels like there might be).

“Steve,” Eddie finally says, his voice stiff and hard in a way Steve doesn’t think he’s ever heard before, “We are way too old for this shit – Robin and Nance too.”

Eddie pauses.

“Steve,” he says again, “I know how important Robin is. I know, but our children would be fucking devastated if anything happened to you. Don’t think they wouldn’t – and something would most certainly happen to you.”

“Eddie.” 

He’s still avoiding his husband’s eyes.

“Steve,” he pleads, something desperate in his voice, “We talked about this. Remember? Last spring, when we watched that stupid zombie show with Hazel? And there was the episode with the old gay guys? We talked about this. You told me not to let you go if this shit came back.”

Steve makes no response. Ed lets out a heavy breath, looking to the ceiling.

They have this conversation every now and then – one of those conversations that always teeters on the edge of an argument – in which Eddie insists that Steve could be fine if their relationship ended in a way that Eddie himself would not. It’s a conversation that Steve hates, because he hates the idea that Eddie – his husband of twenty years and the love of his whole entire life – could still be thinking so low of himself, that there’s any part of him that doesn’t think Steve would be fucking wrecked by losing him.

Still, it had always been a hypothetical. It had never been real.

Suddenly, Steve feels claustrophobic sitting on the floor of his daughters’ bathroom. He gets to his feet and, as he heads for the door, Eddie scrambles up after him.

Halfway down the hall, Eddie lunges for him and catches his arm, wheeling him back around to face him.

“Steve,” Eddie says one more time. 

Then, because he apparently has no words ready to follow with, he stops.

“Steve,” Eddie starts again, “Please. You’re everything. I love the girls and I love our life, but Christ, Steve, you’re my entire world. You changed everything for me. You showed me how life could be worth living, and you keep showing me, and I’m not ready to let go of you yet – not even fucking close. Please don’t let this be the way we leave each other.”

Steve finally lets himself look at Eddie’s face, the face he’d fallen in love with decades ago, the face he’s still in love with decades later. He looks at his big eyes and the hint of grey at his hairline and his crows feet and the scarring that creeps up his neck from underneath the collar of his shirt (it’s a shirt he’s had for ages – since before even Moe was born by the looks of it, but so is the rest of his half of their closet).

And he finds himself nodding.

Eddie’s exhale is all desperate relief as he tugs Steve into his arms and wraps them around his shoulders. Steve immediately reciprocates the hug, pulling him in even closer, surprised to feel tears pin-pricking his eyes

“I love you so much, Steve,” Eddie tells him, gripping the back of his t-shirt so tight he feels the collar pulling taut against his throat, “I don’t say that to you enough.”

“You say it all the time,” Steve replies with a wet laugh.

“Not enough,” he shakes his head, and Steve decides there’s no point in arguing.

A minute goes by.

“Fuck,” Steve half-laughs, half-chokes as he lifts his head to meet Eddie’s eyes, “This fucking sucks.”

“I know,” he says. 

Again, he reels Steve in, and again, Steve lets him, holding onto his husband like a lifeline, like they’re standing somewhere far more perilous than the carpeted floor of their upstairs hallway.

“I know,” Eddie repeats, “And we’ll…we’ll talk about it but for now, just – can I just hold you for a bit, okay?”

Steve nods again.

“Okay.”

read the extended version on AO3 (i.e. feat. added “flashbacks” so it fits the formatting of the rest of the series)

[ladykailitha]

The Magic of Christmas Part 7/8

Here we get to the secret relationship as I wanted it to be surprise. Claudia is awesome as usual and Eddie and Steve are too cute for words.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

***

Eddie was feeling a tad grumpy. He was going to be alone for Thanksgiving. Chrissy was going back to her brother’s family for the holiday since both of them weren’t speaking to their parents anymore and even Uncle Wayne betrayed him by accepting dinner with his girlfriend’s family.

“That can’t be allowed,” Steve said when he heard. “Why don’t you join us for Thanksgiving? Dustin would flip if you came.”

Eddie chewed his lip nervously. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude. I could hit up the local buffet if I had to.”

“And risk the long lines, the sick servers, and the risk of food poisoning because they can’t get the food out fast enough?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow as he counted off the reasons on his fingers.

“You drive a hard bargain, Stevie.”

He laughed. “Plus Claudia is bring her new boyfriend and I need you to distract Dustin so he doesn’t freak out.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, all right. You win. I’ll come to your Thanksgiving. Who’s making dinner? Do I need to bring anything? I’ve got a killer roll recipe.”

“Me and Claudia share the cooking duties most years but because her boyfriend is coming I offered to do the whole thing.” Steve shrugged. “But sure take over the rolls. That’s one less thing I have worry about finding space in the over for.”

“Sweet!” Eddie said jumping up with a whoop. “I’ll even come a little early to be your cooking buddy so that you aren’t slaving away in the kitchen by yourself.”

Steve blushed. “You don’t have to that, Eds.”

“Steve,” Eddie said seriously. “I love your best friends. Robin and Dustin are amazing people that should in no way be allowed anywhere near the kitchen. They would burn it down and you know it.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but he knew it was futile. “Yeah, okay. Dinner is a three so maybe come around one?”

Eddie grinned. “Sounds good, darlin’.”

Steve blushed.

*

Eddie was greet at the door by Claudia with a kiss on his cheek. His own mother had passed away and this amazing woman had decided she was going to adopt any motherless person she found. Robin and Steve didn’t speak to theirs and Eddie had lost his when he was six to cancer. So she had four children as far as she was concerned.

“I’m so glad you’re here, dear,” she muttered. “Steve keeps kicking me out of kitchen. It’s not that I worry he’ll do it wrong, of course!” She waved her hands. “No, I’m worried that he’ll take too much on and wear himself out so he can’t enjoy the meal after.”

Well that was something that Dustin definitely inherited from his mother. The sheer speed at which they spoke. They could get out as much information in five minutes then most people could get in fifty.

“Let me grab those rolls for you,” she continued sweetly. “I’ll just put on the on the side bar.”

Eddie let her take his dish and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen. He found Steve in the cutest pink, frilly apron, hair slicked back with sweat and looking like he had just gotten off of a red-eye flight.

The first thing Eddie did was get Steve a cold beer out of the fridge and pop the cap. He handed it to him.

“Chef gets the booze,” he said with a grin. “Munson family tradition.”

Steve downed half of the bottle in one gulp. “Thanks. I think I like your tradition.”

Eddie chuckled. “As long as you don’t down the entire bottle of red wine used for the gravy, I think booze is the perfect aid for cooking.” He clapped his hands together. “Right, where do you need me?”

Steve started rattling off things that needed to be done and Eddie jumped right in.

Soon they were moving in tandem, just working in perfect rhythm.

Eddie burst out laughing when he heard Dustin tell Robin not go into the kitchen.

“It’s like fucking Swan Lake in there,” he whisper shouted. “I’m afraid if you go in their you’ll break the spell.”

They saw Robin peek in and then squeaked when she them looking back her. She vanished.

Steve shook his head fondly. “You can start stacking things up on the sideboard, Eds. We just have to give this bird time to rest and I’ll carve it up.”

“Sounds good, Stevie!” Eddie said and grabbed the stuffing. Homemade, not that box stuff. It was Claudia’s grandmother’s recipe and she refused to eat anything else.

Eddie was coming out with the candied yams when Dustin came up to him.

“Ma’s boyfriend’s got a nephew that does art, too,” he said. “Maybe you know him!”

Eddie shook his head. “Look, there are some many artists in just Indy alone, there is no wa–”

Just then Claudia ushered in her boyfriend and Eddie’s jaw slammed shut. He patted Dustin on the shoulder and said, “Actually, I take that back, I do know his nephew.”

The boyfriend stopped cold in his tracks when he saw Eddie coming toward him.

“When were you going to tell me, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie said with a low growl, “that you were dating Claudia Henderson?”

Wayne Munson blinked at his nephew a moment, working his jaw as he tried to find the words. Any word would have done in that moment, but Wayne was stunned to silence for the first time in his life since learning that he was now the legal guardian of a very disgruntled eleven year old.

“Hi, Ed,” he managed to say, his voice high and unnatural. “Glad to see you found a place to go for Thanksgiving?”

Eddie folded his arms and tapped his foot. “I know you know who Steve Harrington is and if you’ve been dating Claudia long enough to have her stay at your place while Steve was in London, then you know I knew who they were after Halloween.”

Wayne looked over at Claudia who was staring at him with wide eyes as was Dustin.

“I’ll explain after dinner,” he promised them. Then he grabbed Eddie by the arm and dragged him off to a side room.

“How the hell did you even know this room existed?!” Eddie groused. “I didn’t know this room existed!”

“Look, son,” Wayne said. “I should have said something and it was wrong of me. Especially when I figured it out pretty quick that your Steve was Claudia’s Steve.”

Eddie sighed. “So why didn’t you?”

Wayne scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Because it’s been so long since we didn’t share something. Something that unique to both of us that wasn’t your art. I had a wonderful woman as my girlfriend and you had this sweet mother figure. And it was separate from the other.”

“Only it was the same person,” Eddie said dryly, shoving his hands in his back pocket. Were you never going to introduce us and hope we never found out?”

“No!” Wayne said. “Of course not! I going to tell you at Christmas.”

Eddie glared at him. “When it would be fucking unavoidable as we would both be invited to the Christmas party.”

Wayne ducked his head in shame. “I’m sorry, son. You have to believe that.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and then stomped over to his uncle. He wrapped his arms around Wayne’s shoulders with a heavy sigh.

“You didn’t want to feel obligated to keep dating her because I felt a motherly connection to her, huh?”

Wayne let out a shuddering sigh. “That was a big part of it, too.”

“I’ll go tell them what’s going on and give you a minute to compose yourself,” Eddie said and kissed the top of his head.

He nodded and watched as Eddie slipped back out into the hallway.

Sure enough all of the members of the household were waiting for him.

“Sorry about that,” he told them. “He was just being a little selfish and wanted to keep you guys to himself for a while.”

“That silly man,” Claudia huffed. “I’ll go talk some sense into him, shall I?”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Go for it.”

Claudia went into the side room, leaving Eddie with the remaining three.

“We should go eat before all that lovely food gets cold,” Steve said with a smile.

Robin and Dustin went off on a tear, pushing and trying to trip each other so that they were the first in line.

Steve opened up his arms and Eddie fell into them with sigh.

Steve rubbed his back soothingly. “I know you feel a little betrayed right now, and you should. But pretty soon this will just be blip in your relationship and you’ll be able to tease him about insistently.”

Eddie raised his head. “That does sound nice.”

Steve kissed his cheek. “Come on, we better get out there before Robin eats all the stuffing and Dustin eats all the candied yams.”

Eddie gasped and then took off in a dead heat for the dinning room. Steve looked back at the room Wayne and Claudia were in and shook his head fondly.

He was sure everything was going to be just fine.

*

Dinner passed with little fuss and no drama. There was always going to be a little fuss about Dustin taking too much and Steve taking too little, but it worked out fine in the end.

That night they settled in for board games and pie.

“Pie is the one thing I leave to the professionals,” Steve said. “I don’t know where the saying ‘easy as pie’ comes from but they were a damn liar.”

Claudia laughed. “The crust is easy enough, but it’s the baking it so the rim doesn’t burn before the rest of the pie is done that gets me every time.”

“It’s the filling for me,” Steve said. “It’s either dead cold in the center or a goopy melted mess.”

Eddie put his head on the palms of his hands and batted his eyelashes at Wayne. “Uncle, would you like to tell me why you didn’t offer to make your world famous apple pie? As in the one you have won literal awards for?”

Wayne froze. “What pie?”

Eddie continued to bat his eyelashes.

“Snitch,” he groused. “Because I wanted someone else to do the work for a change.”

“I brought gramma’s rolls,” Eddie countered. “You could have made one pie.”

Wayne sighed. He knew he had been defeated. “I’ll bring it for Christmas.” He glared at Eddie. “I can’t believe you sold me out like that.”

Eddie got up and kissed his uncle on the cheek. “Payback’s a bitch,” he whispered in his ear.

Wayne flushed, but didn’t say anything else. He knew Eddie was right.

Dustin turned to Eddie. “You come to Christmas too!”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance.

“Sure thing, bud,” was all Eddie said.

*

Chrissy came up behind Eddie having just gotten back from her brother’s house.

“You’re painting?” she asked. “I thought you had finished the piece for Steve.”

Eddie hummed in agreement. “I tried to get him to stop paying our bills when I told him I finished it, but he said the contract was for six months and while I had completed my side of the bargain, he hadn’t yet. He told me to just have fun until the end of the year. Goof off or work on my own passion projects.”

“That was sweet of him,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “What are you painting?”

“Steve’s Christmas from me,” he answered. “His favorite dragon is a yellow chromatic dragon.”

“Aren’t they all evil?” she asked.

Eddie set down his paint brush and turned in his stool. “Did you ever see that Disney cartoon where knight and the dragon are having tea?”

Chrissy shrugged. “I vaguely remember that.”

“It’s going to be like that,” he said. “Instead of fighting the knight and the dragon are sitting down and having tea.”

“That’s cute!” she said. “He’ll love it.”

He blushed. “That’s the hope.”

***

Part 8

Don't be too hard on Uncle Wayne, it's hard being a single parent even if they've already moved out. He was stupid, but it wasn't malicious.

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[scoops-aboy86]

🧜‍♂️ Delayed Inheritance, pt 5

(pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4; also on ao3)

Eddie isn’t entirely sure how he got from bobbing along between swells at the surface to holding hands with the most enchanting creature he’s ever seen. A Prince, even. Of the land and the sea, somehow, as if simply one of those didn’t make him unattainable enough. All signs point to Steve being drastically out of Eddie’s league, and yet… Whenever their eyes meet, he feels like there’s this connection there. Steve may be swept away by the current of his far grander life at any moment, sure, but for now they’re just two young mermen circling the outside of a sunken ship that’s so teeming with kelp and ocean life it’s like it’s own little forest.

Holding, as previously mentioned, hands.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Eddie is saying, “but it’s so cool inside, you have to see.” With a squeeze of his hand and a grin thrown over his shoulder, Eddie adds, “And I know it’s technically a wreck, but she’s plenty safe, Stevie, I promise.”

The other mer squeezes his hand back as they continue to slow their approach to a reasonable speed, bunching up against Eddie a little because he’s still catching on to how to move in the water. “Thank you. I appreciate all you’re doing to help me, even though I’m just some guy you saved from the beach.”

Eddie’s free hand tugs absently at a lock of long hair. “It’s no problem, really. Don’t mention it.”

He doesn’t look at Steve while speaking because he wants Steve to mention it. But once everything is settled with this Nancy situation, there will be two kingdoms vying for Steve’s attention, and the guy should at least get to experience some of what the underwater world has to offer. A little natural beauty to offset the shock of uncovering an unexpected origin story of maternal loss, paternal betrayal, almost two decades of lies, and separation from his intended mate.

“It’s the most real thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Steve insists earnestly, washing away all of Eddie’s wandering thoughts and attempts at better intentions. “We met completely by accident but you knew just who I needed to talk to. And maybe you can’t help with whatever happens next, I don’t know, but you’re helping me pass the time anyway. And you call me Steve, and Stevie… I thought nicknames are something people earn, but you gave them to me right away. That’s really nice, Eddie.”

And, well. What is Eddie supposed to say to that? Oh, I went with Steve because I kind of blanked out partway through you introducing yourself because you’re so attractive and that’s all of your name I could remember for sure, sorry! Absolutely not, just like he’s not going to mention that that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever told him.

“You just seem like a Stevie to me. Would you rather—“

“No, I like it,” Steve replies quickly. “Just—does this mean we’re friends?”

Eddie fights the urge to stop and curl his tail around Steve’s, because that’s way too intimate for an acquaintance of less than a day. Even though he knows Steve has no way of knowing that; Eddie would know. But it’s kind of heartbreaking to hear the caution and eagerness tumbling over each other in his voice. There’s no way someone like Steve doesn’t have other friends, is there? Even Eddie has friends, and he’s bottom of the crab bucket. And if not, he almost wants to tell Steve he should have higher standards.

“Of course we’re friends,” Eddie replies, more vehemence bleeding into his tone than intended but he’s selfish, grasping. (What does he think is going to happen? That Steve will take him along when he moves on to his bigger, better, princely life? Yeah, right.) “My rescues come with guaranteed friendship for as long as you can stand me, no exceptions.”

“That’s true,” pipes up another voice, making both of them start in surprise.

Eddie knew there was a chance some of his friends might be around, even though they didn’t have plans, and that’s… that’s fine. Cutting into his time alone with Steve, but he should be content with whatever he can get, really. He lets the annoyance go and stretches out his tail to wave his fins at Jeff, a dark-skinned cecaelia who returns the gesture with a few tentacles from where he’s peeking through the curtain of green that sways in front of the hole in the ship’s hull.

“Eddie likes to collect lost guppies,” Jeff continues, then gives Steve a curious once-over. “I don’t recognize you… You from around here?”

“I… sort of am?” Steve ventures. He glances at Eddie with wide eyes, still clutching at his hand uncertainly.

The sea might be his world by heritage, but he doesn’t know it—not like Eddie does. Something puffs in Eddies chest at being looked to for guidance. “It’s a long story. Jeff, this is Steve; Stevie, this is my buddy Jeff. We go way back.”

A school of small, silvery fish ribbon their out from where Jeff is holding the kelp aside, looping briefly around Steve so suddenly that he lets out a surprised, laughing little woah. And, okay, maybe Eddie is kind of entranced by the open delight on his face for a slightly noticeable amount of time. But of course Jeff catches on and pokes at Eddie’s tail fins with a smirk while Steve is still distracted.

Eddie brushes it off and clears his gills with a you saw nothing glare. “Are the other guys around? It’s kind of a long story and Steve’s kind of in the middle of a really long day, I don’t want to have to go over everything more than once.”

“Yeah, they’re here.” Jeff ducks back inside for them to follow.

As soon as they’re alone again, Steve leans in close and whispers, “What should I tell them?”

“Whatever you want,” Eddie whispers back, stunned by the sudden proximity and almost going invertebrate-soft with longing. If wishes were fishes he’d close that small distance right now for a kiss, curl around Steve, never let him go… “It’s your story to tell. And we’re the local losers and freaks, no one’s gonna judge you for anything.”

Steve nods, then hesitates.

”Anything, Stevie,” Eddie adds, “really.” Almost wonders, for a second, if Steve regrets the loss of time alone together. If he feels the connection too.

“Can you… teach me how to greet them properly?” The look on his face is nervous and absolutely screams I want your friends to like me. I don’t want to make a mess of it again.”

He’s got a mate lined up, Eddie reminds himself firmly while taking a steadying breath. He’s sweet and he’s pretty and forget out of my league, he’s already spoken for.

“Sure.” Eddie smiles—it’s so easy to smile around Steve, no matter what else is going on in his wistful heart. “If you need an etiquette tutor down here, Stevie, all you had to was ask.”

“Not a tutor,” Steve corrects with surprising force. But before Eddie can get whiplash, he smiles back and adds, “We’re friends, right? You teach me this and I can teach you about handshakes, because that’s what friends do: help each other out.”

Yeah, Eddie is sure now that this prince (or, more specifically, the rapidly growing crush he has on Steve) is going to be the death of him.

(pt 6; also on ao3)

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[deliciousangelfestival]

The Lady - 2

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Eddie Horniman x Female Reader

Summary: After fifteen years away, a step-daughter returns for her Duke step-father's funeral, only to inherit a staggering 8 million pound debt and strike a risky deal with a criminal underworld figure.

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Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3 , Chap 4 , Chap 5 , Chap 6 , Chap 7.

Your ongoing support means the world to me! Reblogs are a fantastic way to help spread the word about my work. I'll do my best to reply to all your comments. Thank you for your continued encouragement!

Bucky leaned back in his chair, studying her reaction keenly. "I understand your concerns," he said, his tone surprisingly understanding. "But trust me, this is a business matter. We're not in the business of hurting innocent people."

"If someone died, I'd probably get deported," Bucky added casually, his tone belying the seriousness of his words.

"You're American too?" you blurted out, your voice tinged with disbelief. It was only now, under the stress of the moment, that you noticed Bucky's lack of a British accent.

"Yup. Just like you. So we have something in common," Bucky replied, his smile masking the underlying tension between you.

Leaning back in your chair, you feigned deep contemplation, buying yourself time to process the weight of Bucky's request. "After thinking thoroughly, it's not gonna happen," you finally declared, your words a thinly veiled refusal.

Bucky's easygoing demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a steely resolve that sent shivers down your spine. Drawing closer, he rested both arms on Rupert's study table, his gaze piercing you unwaveringly.

"Your Grace, because of my friendship with Rupert, I'm giving you this last chance," Bucky declared, his voice low and commanding.

With a swift motion, he produced a business card from his suit pocket and slid it across the table towards you. "I'll be waiting for your call."

As he retreated, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping over you. The stakes had never been higher, and you knew that the choices you made in the coming days would shape the course of your future in ways you couldn't yet comprehend.

The weight of the situation pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket as you surveyed the room, your eyes landing on the familiar photos adorning the walls.

Among them, a small picture frame caught your attention, capturing a moment frozen in time: you and Rupert, smiling at a polo game.

Your voice faltered as you addressed the silent figure in the photograph. "Why did you choose me?" you whispered, the weight of the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. "Dad."

Feeling lost and overwhelmed, you pondered your next move. Should you confront your mother, who seemed to have kept secrets hidden all along?

Or seek answers from the twins, who had already distanced themselves from the burden?

After careful consideration, you decided to turn to your childhood friend, Eddie, for guidance. With a sense of determination, you grabbed the car keys and set off for Halstead estate, hoping that Eddie might offer some much-needed clarity in this sea of uncertainty.

As you stepped onto the familiar grounds of Halstead estate, memories of summers past flooded your mind. Despite the initial awkwardness of being left behind by your mother, the warmth of Eddie's family soon enveloped you in a sense of belonging.

The memories of summers spent here flooded back. Your mother left you behind, as the twins didn't want you to join the holiday. So, your mom left you here since Eddie's manor was closer to you.

Initially awkward, but it became enjoyable with Freddie always cracking jokes and Eddie, the adventurous one.

Reminiscing about fishing trips, horseback riding, and clay shooting, you couldn't help but smile at the fond memories made in this idyllic setting.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your reverie, and you turned to see Freddie, Eddie's brother, approaching with open arms. Despite the passage of time, Freddie seemed unchanged, his jovial spirit shining through.

"Y/N! Come here. Give me a hug."

You embraced him. It had been 15 years, and he seemed different, almost radiant.

Freddie said, "I'm sorry about Rupert. I lost my dad last year too."

You replied, "I'm sorry too."

"So, it's obvious you're not here for me. You want to see Eddie?" Freddie asked.

"I am," you confirmed.

"He just finished a conversation with a guest. Let me take you there," Freddie offered, leading the way.

When you walked into the study room, you heard an elegant female voice saying, "I'll give the info later."

As she walked out, you noticed her stylish demeanor and sensed a mysterious aura around her. There was a hint of leadership in her presence, but what struck you as odd was the faint smell of weed lingering in the air.

She smiled at you before departing.

"I didn't expect you to come here so soon," Eddie remarked with a smile as you turned to face him. Seated in a leather chair, he exuded the air of a true duke.

"I didn't know where else I could go," you replied.

Freddie cleared his throat. "I'll leave you two alone."

Eddie offered you a seat and poured a drink, which you gratefully accepted.

"I heard you got the title. Congrats," Eddie said, raising his glass in a toast.

You chuckled softly. "The title is useless when all I've got is debt."

Eddie fell silent for a moment. "I went through a similar situation myself. What kind of problem are you having right now?"

"Do you know Bucky Barnes?" you asked.

Eddie clicked his tongue in response.

Crossing your arms, you continued, "So you know him. That means you knew about my stepdad's weed business."

Eddie leaned back in his chair, thoughtfully swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Rupert got into the business earlier than me," he began, his tone reflecting a mix of resignation and regret. "The woman you saw before is Susie Glass."

"He had a business with her," Eddie continued, his voice tinged with disapproval.

You clenched your jaw, the realization sinking in.

"I didn't know much about the details, but your father was on the list that worked with the Glass," Eddie explained, his expression troubled.

"He wanted out," you interjected, your voice firm with determination.

Eddie nodded grimly. "And that's where Barnes came in. He's a syndicate, setting up a branch in the UK from New York. His business was unique and deadly."

The dimly lit study seemed to take on a more sinister atmosphere as Eddie spoke, shadows dancing across the walls like flickering flames. The air was tense, each word carrying the weight of unspoken truths and hidden dangers.

"Rupert owes Barnes 8 million pounds," you stated, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Eddie hesitated for a moment before responding, his expression thoughtful. "That's..."

"I know, it's insane," you interjected, your voice tinged with frustration.

Eddie met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of sympathy and determination. "I could pay off your debt," he offered quietly.

You recoiled slightly, taken aback by his proposal. "Then what? I'll still in debt. It never ends," you countered, a note of bitterness creeping into your voice.

You sighed, the weight of Rupert's decision heavy on your shoulders. "Why did Rupert choose me?"

Eddie nodded in understanding, his expression reflective. "I asked the same thing when my dad chose me instead of Freddie."

Your brow furrowed in confusion as you looked at him, prompting Eddie to chuckle softly. "Problem solver," he explained simply.

You nodded slowly, considering Eddie's words. "Both of us did join the military. Is it because we went through difficult situations?"

Eddie leaned forward, his gaze unwavering as he locked eyes with you. "Probably," he agreed, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "But I'm sure you could handle it. If not, I'll be here to help you."

A warmth spread through you at his words, and you felt a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. "Thank you," you murmured gratefully, appreciating his caring demeanor.

You nodded firmly. "I've got all I need. I'll go now," you declared, trying to maintain composure as you turned to leave.

Eddie nodded in response. "Sure. I'll see you next time," he replied, his tone gentle and understanding.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but feel a swirl of emotions inside, like a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and feelings. You tried to keep a cool facade, but deep down, your heart was racing.

Meanwhile, Eddie watched you go, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Then, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Did she notice?" someone asked quietly.

Eddie glanced over, meeting the gaze of the speaker. "Not yet," he responded softly, his expression thoughtful as he contemplated the situation.

You drove for what felt like an eternity until you finally arrived back at your own manor. As you stepped inside, you noticed Hugo playing in the living room with Susan. Ignoring your mother, your focus was solely on your little step-brother.

You were just ten years old when you first met Rupert, and he had quickly become the best father figure you'd ever known. During the eight years you spent here, you learned to appreciate Rupert's love for his legacy and the history of the manor.

Sighing heavily, you knew you were about to make a risky decision.

Heading to Rupert's study again, you picked up Bucky's business card and dialed the number. After just two rings, his voice filled your ears. "I've been waiting for your call, Your Grace," he said smoothly.

Rolling your eyes at his confidence, you replied, "Just one job and you clear the debt?"

Bucky chuckled, his tone dripping with assurance. "It would be a big explosion. They'll think it's a terrorist attack. But no, Your Grace. Five small explosions, and we're done."

Bucky's voice crackled through the line, his tone both humorous and tinged with an unmistakable edge. "Think of it as fireworks, Your Grace. Except instead of pretty colors, we'll be making a statement."

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, the gravity of the situation juxtaposed with Bucky's nonchalant demeanor. "And what kind of statement would that be?" you asked, trying to match his casual tone.

"The kind that says, 'Don't mess with us,'" Bucky replied, his voice dripping with a dangerous charm. "We'll leave 'em scratching their heads and scrambling for cover."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, you couldn't deny the thrill of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "And you're sure this will work?" you inquired, a hint of skepticism creeping into your voice.

Bucky's confidence was unwavering. "Trust me, Your Grace. When it comes to making a scene, I'm the best in the business."

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[allthingssteddie]

Steve’s grandfather died and he inherits a cabin in the middle of nowhere . He wasn’t even expecting to inherit anything because his father was estranged from his grandfather. When he and his family get back to the house his father Richard is pissed because his younger half brother got all the money and Steve got the family cabin which he thinks it’s owed to him and to get back at Steve he throws him out of the house. When Steve gets to this cabin it’s not what he’s expecting. It’s a wreck and looks like it hasn’t been taking care of in years but he decides him self to fix it up. And over the next couple of weeks as he trying to fix the floor he finds a lose one and he decided rip it up to see a picture of a young man with blonde hair who looks similar to his dad and with that young man is a another one who’s sticking his tongue out to the camera. And next to this picture was an oil lamp it looked ancient to him he wasn’t sure what to do with it . Then suddenly he hears a crash outside which startled him and he ends up breaking it. That night, as he drifted off to sleep, he noticed a faint glow emanating from the corner of his room on the rocking chair. He goes to scream but he can’t he feels if his lips have been sealed. . It was the young man he saw in that picture, dressed in ancient attire, with piercing eyes that seemed to hold a deep sorrow.

Why did you betray me, Paul?" the genie whispered.

Steve trembled. "Betray you? How, man? I don’t even know you.”

Eddie gaze intensified. “Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am. You told me you wouldn’t put me back In that trap that your last wish would be to set me free. I trusted you… and you promised me…” Eddies voice cracked.

Eddie leans forward, his face inched from Steve’s. Suddenly he realizes that it’s not actually Paul it’s some one who’s looks similar to Paul.

So Paul Steve’s grandfather is building his house one day and comes across this oil lamp it’s rusty and has something engraved on it he can barely make it out what says as he trying to read the words he steps on something which the lamp fall to the ground smashing into pieces. He ends up cutting his thumb and goes back to the house to wrap it up but when he goes outside he sees the lamp still intact but feels a presence behind him and it’s Eddie and over the years when Paul finds a loop hole in wishing for more Paul manipulates Eddie and all Eddie wants is of be free from the oil lamp he’s promised by Paul he will help him but never does but Eddie believes him because he’s in love with him. But there’s a happy ending because Eddie and Steve fall in love.

I could add more but I don’t want this post to be to long it’s just a idea I had just came up now it’s not as organized but I just love the idea of Eddie as a genie.