#get a queue

[mugloversonly]

The best out come!

Secret Santa

Eddie Munson x Reader

Description: Mrs. O'Donnell's yearly Secret Santa finally went well this year for Eddie Munson

Word Count: 870

------

Each year Mrs. O’Donnell had the idea to have her class take part in secret santa. Whether you liked who you got or not, you had to participate. It was a grade. As for Eddie Munson, someone who didn’t give a single fuck about his grades and shitty classmates, always managed to skip it for the last two years. This year though, he was way too determined to graduate to care about any of that. Plus this year it was different. Y/N was in his class. 

The two had never actually spoken to each other, but they would always steal glances at one another. There was something about her that he was so drawn to. That’s why he was secretly hoping he would get to be her secret santa. He’d finally get a reason to talk to her.

But alas, luck is never on Eddie’s side. He reached into the Santa hat that had the class names inside and pulled out Tina’s name. ‘Great.’ He thought to himself. He watched as the hat got around to Y/N as she went to pull out a name. He didn’t see the name, but he most definitely did see how she didn’t look his way. ‘There goes my chances.’

—

The day of secret santa Eddie walks into class holding a little gift bag with some candy. No way was he actually going to try getting a genuine gift for these assholes. He sat in his seat as the class started to pile in. 

“Alright class, now that everyone is here you may all hand out your gifts.” Mrs. O’Donnell says, wearing that stupid cursed santa hat.

The whole class starts moving around and Eddie makes his way over to Tina’s desk. He places the bag down without a word, knowing she wouldn’t want to speak to him anyway. Eddie makes his way back to his seat and slouches down into it. He knew nobody would actually care to give the freak a gift, so he reaches into his bag to pull out his notebook full of campaign ideas, deciding to work on that instead. 

From the corner of his eyes he can see the chair beside him being pulled out. To his surprise, it’s Y/N. 

“No way you actually got Tina a gift.” She smirks and sits down.

“Nah, just some candy. Didn't even try.” Eddie says calmly, even though he is internally screaming right now.

Y/N lets out a small laugh in response and then reaches down to her backpack. “Well, in case you were wondering why I’m here, I am in fact your secret santa.” she says as she pulls out a little gift box and then an even smaller gift box sitting on top.

Eddie is in so much shock he doesn’t even respond and lets her place the gifts on his desk. She doesn’t seem bothered by his silence and instead smiles and says, “I didn’t really have the money for an actual gift, so I made you some stuff instead.”

He reaches forward and grabs the smaller box first. He opens up the top to reveal a bracelet made out of guitar strings with some added charms of a skull and spider. “No way. This is so cool!” Eddie says through excitement, nearly jumping out his seat. Some students looked over at his mini outburst, but he couldn’t give a single shit right now. “I thought you might like that.” Y/N says with a grin, happy to see him enjoying his first gift.

“How’d you know I play guitar?”

“Well, it wasn’t hard to guess," she says as she looks him up and down, "but I did see you at the music store in the mall a few weeks ago buying some new guitar picks. That’s what gave me the idea for your next gift.”

Eddie had almost forgotten that there was another gift box sitting in front of him. He slips the bracelet onto his wrist and then reaches to open the other gift box. This time, he was truly at a loss for words. He reached into the box and picked up a little mini bouquet made out of wires for stems and guitar picks as the petals.

“Do you like it?” 

Eddie looks up almost in disbelief, “Do I like it? What kind of question is that? Y/N, this is insane!” He twirls the three flowers in his fingers to inspect them even more. Dark red and blue picks held together by hot glue, and even had some green picks as leaves. 

He looks back up at Y/N, trying to contain his smile, and says, “I have to get you something now. These are way too good for me to not get you anything in return.”

“Eddie, it's fine. It’s a part of the game, you don’t need to get me anything.” Y/N replies, also trying to contain a smile.

“No, that’s so unfair! C’mon, just one gift. I’ll even let you pick. It can be anything, well, almost anything. I’m on a tight budget here, but you get my point.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“How about a date?”

Up until this moment Eddie had never given a damn about Mrs. O'Donnells, but holy shit was he sure thankful for her right now.

"A date it is."

[lunaandsolstice]

do you have rizz

No

[nugget-creates-things]

Spring Witch 🌸🌿

[mugloversonly]

When you said meet ugly you meant it

Meet the parents

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 13

Prompt: Family Dinner

Rated: T

Tags: Modern AU; No UD AU; Meet ugly; Fake dating; Fake identity; Past Stommy

Eddie straightens his tie for the twentieth time, running a hand through his hair to check his bun. The restaurant across the street looks even fancier than in the pictures on his phone. He feels stupidly out of place just standing in front of it.

He's just lucky nobody he knows can see him now.

He imagined making it big in the city, performing in sold-out clubs, not squeezing into a suit and playing jazz music for rich farts.

But apparently the place needs a guitarist, because the rich farts enjoy live music with their overpriced dinner. And Eddie enjoys being able to pay his rent, so here they are. He squares his shoulders, adjusting his guitar case on his shoulder and fixing his tie. Again. The manager said to be here on time.

“Hey! You! Yes, you, guitar guy.”

Eddie pauses mid-step. A young man has emerged from the restaurant and is now weaving through the throng of passers-by. Eddie’s sure he's never seen him before - not just because he just called him guitar guy, but also because he's pretty much exactly his type - sun-kissed skin and caramel hair and a boyish smile that makes his eyes hazel sparkle. Eddie wouldn’t just forget a face like that. And yet, the guy keeps jogging towards him, waving and smiling. He comes to a standstill just in front of Eddie, pausing to catch his breath. He's evidently never heard of private space, because he's close enough for Eddie to count the freckles on the bridge of his nose.

“Wanna earn two-hundred bugs?”

Eddie blinks.

“Erm, I guess,” his mile-a-minute mouth replies while his brain is still trying to parse through the situation. “What-”

That smile goes impossibly brighter.

“Brilliant,” says the guy. Then he kisses him.

It's over as quick as it started, and before Eddie has a chance to recover, the guy has linked their hands and is pulling him towards the restaurant.

“Name's Steve, by the way. Yours?”

“I- um, Eddie,” says Eddie. His lips are still tingling.

Steve smiles tensely.

“Alright, I-um-Eddie. For the next one-and-a-half hours, you smile and nod, and leave the talking to me, okay? Oh, and your name's Tommy.”

���Wha-?” Eddie squawks, but Steve has already pulled him through the doors and to a table overlooking the busy street.

“Found him! Mom, Dad, this is-”

“Tommy,” says the man sitting at the table. He holds out a hand, which Eddie is too dumbfounded to not shake. “So glad you’ve made it. We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Yeah, um-” Eddie says, shaking the woman’s hand as well. She wrinkles her nose like his fingers are something gross, and he wonders frantically if he did anything wrong. Was he supposed to kiss her knuckles? Do rich people still do that? He doesn’t know, so he quickly withdraws his hand and pretends to be very busy settling into his chair. “Nice meeting you, Mr. …”

He casts a helpless look at Steve, because he never mentioned his last name, and he can’t very well call the guy Mr. Steve’s Dad, now can he?

“Oh, please,” says the older man, “Call me Richard. And tell me about yourself, Steve has been awfully secretive. I hear you study business economics?”

“Um,” Eddie looks back at Steve, who nods imperceptibly. “Yeah, totally, it’s great. I love business, man. And economics. Can't get enough- ow!”

Steve smiles sweetly, like he didn't just kick him under the table like some sort of demented mule with anger management issues.

“And you're a musician as well?” the woman chimes in, eyeing his guitar case curiously. Eddie's assuming she's Steve's mom, but what does he know? All he’s certain of is that his shin is still hurting and he doesn’t wanna get kicked again.

“He’s been taking guitar lessons,” Steve says with barely a hitch. “To have- … how did you put it, honey? A creative outlet when you want to unwind from work, right?”

“Right,” Eddie parrots. “An outlet. Undwinding’s very important.”

“Isn’t that lovely?” the woman gushes. “You’ll need to play for us under the tree this Christmas.”

Now, it’s Steve’s turn to look petrified. “I dunno, Mom. Tommy probably has other-”

Richard makes an impatient noise and flips open the menu.

“Come on now, don't be like that. Guess you’re joining us for Christmas, Tommy. Hope you like skiing?”

*

“Okayyy,” Eddie drawls. They’re standing in the parking lot, hand in hand, waving after Steve’s parents in their abhorrently expensive limousine. “Now spill. Who’s Tommy?”

“My boyfriend.” The moment the car rounds the corner, Steve withdraws his hand. There’s an unhappy scowl on his face. “Well, my ex, I guess. Who broke up with me via text message five minutes before he was supposed to meet us.”

Eddie whistles lowly. “Whoops, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Steve says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “He's an ass. So, you wanna give me your number? I’ll transfer you the money and text you about Christmas.”

“Yeah sure, gimme a-” Eddie, already fumbling for his own phone, freezes and almost drops his guitar. “Hold on, what are you talking about?”

Steve gives him a look. “You heard my parents. They want you to spend Christmas with us.”

Eddie gawks at him. “So? I’m obviously not doing that. Just tell them Tommy and you broke it off, what’s the-”

“I can’t do that,” Steve blurts. “They’ll cut me off, and I need that money.”

Eddie almost makes a snide remark, but there’s this panicked look in Steve’s eyes again, and something tells him that this is about more than just a spoiled rich kid fearing for his inheritance. He sighs.

“I want a thousand bucks,” he says. “I’ll need to cancel Christmas with my uncle, so I think that’s a fair compensation. Plus, I’m not going on any skiers.”

More holiday drabbles

They shake on it, and just like that, Eddie finds himself with both a new job and new plans for the holidays.

[wishfulsketching]

I have finally finished season 2 of Arcane and can now enjoy your art without fear!!! They should be happy together 🥺

I take it "they" means zaundads because that is what I've been drawing the most BUT, lets be honest, applies to like 98% of the characters in the show.

They should've been a big happy familyyyy

[wardensantoineandevka]

is that piece of media actually bad, or is it just not following the blueprint you projected onto it? is that work actually not good, or are you just demanding something from it that is absolutely antithetical to its themes, genre, tone, and narrative goal? is that story actually poorly written, or do you just dislike that it is not the specific things you wanted from it that it never set out to be, never was, and never is going to become? is it actually bad, or is it actually well-executed and you just dislike the story it chose to be because it isn't catering to your specific desires and expectations?

[mugloversonly]

Steve is the MVP for sure

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Certainly Can't With That Attitude

Prompt Day 16: Tree | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Established Relationship, Picking a Tree, Exasperated Steve Harrington, Button-Pusher Eddie Munson, Bantering, But It Is Love

"We can't get a twelve foot tree, we only have an eight foot ceiling!" Steve snaps, hands on his hips. "You cannot be serious. That's a ridiculous tree for a house. That thing belongs in some huge, echoey corporate office. Or maybe Rockefeller Center. I don't know. I just know it won't fit in our house. No, no, no. No way."

Eddie smirks, "Well, it certainly can't with that attitude."

Steve huffs in annoyance, and Eddie is more than used to that.

"Okay, smart guy, are you planning to cut off the top or the trunk, and just have it be nub on the floor?"

Eddie looks back up at the tall, full, lush tree. 

He's definitely not gonna butcher her. She's too pretty for that. She belongs somewhere she can be seen, adored. Maybe right here where she is, on the Christmas tree farm.

Eddie sighs.

"You know I'm not. She is a beauty though, ain't she?" Eddie asks.

"She is," Steve concedes, "and we'll find a pretty one that will actually fit in our living room."

"Fine, fine," Eddie says. And they will. But he really did fall in love with this tree.

They walk around the rest of the lot, and nothing is exactly what Eddie had in mind. Too skinny, too lopsided, too small. Seeing them not picking anything, the guy manning the place points beyond the rows of already cut trees, and offers Steve a saw. 

"What the hell am I supposed to do with that?" Steve asks, refusing to take the offered saw.

"Cut down your own, man, if you can't find anything you like in the pre-cuts," the kid says, not invested in the outcome of this at all.

Eddie just laughs. 

Not that he imagines Steve couldn't do it, in fact, he's sure that he can. But it's amusing to know how annoyed by this prospect he'll be.

"Well, that sounds fun!" Eddie shouts with delight.

If looks could kill, he'd be dead. For sure. No matter how much Steve loves him, which is undoubtedly a lot.

"Yeah, a blast," Steve says dryly, but he does finally take the saw, like he's resigned to this happening just to make Eddie happy. 

They walk into the trees, and Eddie turns to look at Steve, "Wonder why he gave you the saw and not me?"

Steve coughs up the hint of a grin that tells Eddie he's not nearly as annoyed as he wants to seem.

"Total mystery," Steve banters back and Eddie looks out at the trees. Checking out his many, many options. 

And then he sees it, the perfect tree, in the perfect size.

"That one," Eddie says, taking off at a run, as if they'll have to fight off people to get it. They won't. As far as Eddie can tell, they are the only two fools back here with a saw in hand. Everybody else was satisfied with choosing something already cut.

Steve doesn't question him, just squats down, bracing his leg out for leverage, and starts sawing the trunk of the tree. 

Eddie can't resist, he puts on his best high-pitched tree voice, "Ow! Stop! You're cutting me! That hurts!"

Steve stops and gives Eddie the look. Eddie loves the look. He yearns for the look. It looks like annoyance, but it's love, through and through. Eddie grins, holding up his hands in surrender to let Steve work in peace and quiet. As a small Christmas miracle.

Eddie watches him work the saw with ease, and sometimes Eddie forgets how strong Steve is. How athletic. Eddie couldn't ever just cut down a tree like that. He'd fall on his ass, cut off his fingers, or both.

It's not a huge tree, but it takes longer than Eddie had imagined. Finally, Steve says, "Okay. It's just about ready to go down. Don't let it fall on your head."

"So romantic," Eddie banters back, but steps behind Steve. He's not a hundred percent sure which way it's gonna fall, but he's fairly confident Steve's not gonna angle it towards his own body, so behind him seems like the safest bet.

The tree falls away from them, landing with a thud that is somewhat dampened by the branches.

"I hope it comes with a pet racoon or owl or something else cute living in it," Eddie comments, looking down at the mass of green.

Steve gives him a withering look, "I do not hope for that."

"You're no fun," Eddie says, but leans into Steve's side, just for a second, bumping his hip into Steve's. "Thanks for cutting it down. It's perfect."

"You say that now, we still have to get it on top of the damn car and get home with it."

Eddie laughs, but helps Steve carry it up to the front of the lot so they can pay for it.

The employees take it from them, and throw it on the shaker to knock off all the dead needles. 

It looks violent, with all the rattling the poor thing is going through.

"Man, our new raccoon friend is gonna be so dizzy after that ride," Eddie stage whispers, and Steve rolls his eyes, but can't totally hide the smile on his face from Eddie.

It's gonna be a pretty tree, bonus raccoon or not, and Eddie's definitely going to enjoy the tree even more since Steve cut it down with his own two hands. Just to make Eddie happy.

The workers finally take the tree off the shaker, wrapping it up nice and tight, before handing it back over, finally ready to go home. All theirs.

Steve gets the ratchet straps out of the trunk, and Eddie smiles. Eddie might tend to have a vision, but Steve has the practicality to make said visions actually work. A balance, a give and take.

A love.

"Okay," Steve says, taking the heavy end of the tree, "one, two, three..."

She's up.

And it's finally starting to look a lot like Christmas.

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

[wishfulsketching]

Season 1 Silco, my beloved

[artsymeeshee]

Random idea I got this morning thinking about how small little things (mostly about missing important moments of the past) make the boys emotional and sorrowful.

[artsymeeshee]

[wolfchans]

I'm gonna let you know I'm just gonna go And hold you so I'm never letting go ♪

[blanc-ci]

Spock doesn’t quite understand why Kirk feels the need to “get so close they’re practically inside eachother’s skin” when they can just meld, but Kirk assures him it’s an entirely normal and common human intimacy ritual

[mugloversonly]

my heart!

fallen angel (steddie holiday drabble/bingo)

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 15 prompt, “ornament;” @steddiebingo prompt, “candle;” @whumpcember day 15 prompt, ‘broken glass.”

WC: 988 Rating: T; CW: none. Tags: fluff, angst, established steddie, flashbacks to less happy childhoods, happy ending.  Summary: Steve and Eddie discover a sad moment in their pasts that intertwined and turned surprisingly magical in the present…

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“We agreed we weren’t doing the c-word, Eddie.”

Steve had gotten in from a late shift at Family Video. Robin had made him eat forfeit candy every time somebody complained Die Hard wasn’t in stock. He felt kinda icky and grouchier than ever over seasonal bullshit.

“We’re not, Babe.” Eddie rummaged in a box, retrieving something that suspiciously resembled a tinselly garland—though chewed by generations of hungry mice.

Steve nearly bitched, Unless you’re gonna tie me up with that sparkly shit, please remove it before I stuff it down your throat.  Then he realized. It was THE box, which contained all Eddie had from his childhood. He kneeled at Eddie’s side, hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Mom used to wear the garland to dance at midwinter. She was a total flowerchild.” Eddie placed it back carefully. “Stevie, can I show you something? If you hate it, you never have to see it again.”

“Okay.”

Steve slid his arms around Eddie. He’d put up with most shit, if snuggles accompanied it. Eddie definitely gave off ‘need-more-snuggles’ vibes. Steve lifted Eddie’s hair, nibbling kisses beneath, while Eddie raised a crude clay ornament from the box’s depths.

An angel.

A childish painted angel, with a niche for a candle, that’d been broken and painstakingly glued back together.

Steve’s angel.

His heart gave a thunderclap then raced insanely.

“Wow… I never thought… Oh my fucking God.”

…

Twelve years ago

On the final day before winter break, the entire school was in the sports hall—supposedly doing crafts, though truthfully having a mass clay-fight.

Steve, however, liked clay modelling. Following the lead of fellow ‘non-nerd’ Chrissy—who also wanted to make rather than break something—he sat down at the ‘nerd’ table. Also following Chrissy’s lead, he began modelling an angel candle-holder.

Tommy H said only girls and weirdos made ornaments. Steve didn’t care. Even when Tommy chucked clay at him and it stuck in his hair. Even when that Munson freak came to chat with Chrissy and smirked at him.

He was making the angel for his mom, who liked everything clean, white and perfect. She’d like angels, right?

That evening, he waited till she’d stopped yelling about the clay on his clothes and in his hair. They were waiting for Steve’s babysitter, and she seemed in a good mood, so… “Mommy, I made this for you.”

She stared at it. Actually, through it. “Heavens. Is that why you ruined a brand-new sweater.”

The phone rang. Steve twitched his face, sniffed.

He was still holding out his angel like an idiot, when his mom told him the babysitter was sick. “We can’t let the Wheelers down. You’ll have to take care of yourself.”

The door closed. Steve’s face burned as if slapped. He stared at the angel—her brown splotchy eyes, her wonky pink smile. He’d not even put a candle in her. She was as idiotic and unlovable as he was.

He opened his hand and watched her smash on the parquet floor.

He ran to his room without picking up the pieces, though it’d get him in deep shit. He was burying his dumb tears in his pillow, when his worst nightmare got real—the one that always haunted him when his parents left him alone.

The crash of a breaking window.

…

Eddie’s dad called the posh folks’ party season ‘Santa’s giveaway.’ Tonight, Eddie learned why.

It was child’s-play to spot the empty houses—if the parents had left snot-nosed brats with babysitters, there’d be at least one light on. Trouble was, the locks got more sophisticated each year, forcing Al Munson to go ‘old school.’

Smash a window. Send a kid through to go open the door from inside.

There Eddie was, scrambling through, trying not to gash his knee on the broken glass. “It’s kinda Dickensian,” his pa said, “The old ways are sometimes best, son.”

Screw you, thought Eddie, skidding onto the polished floor. He tiptoed forward till his foot, and his torch-beam, struck something on the boards.

Huh?

A clay candle-holder, like Chrissy’s. But this wasn’t Chrissy’s angel. It was Harrington’s.

Eddie had never seen Harrington so serious about anything other than sport. He’d snickered, though admired the younger kid’s geek-like devotion to his art, wondering if Harrington might not always be such an a-hole.

He carefully picked up the broken pieces. It made him sad, somehow.

“Eddie,” Al hissed through letterbox. “Hurry the fuck up, kid.”

Eddie stuffed the angel in his pocket and opened the door.

…

Eddie held out the angel, watched Steve’s eyes stretch wide. Breath bating—and not actually looking like he wanted to punch Eddie—he took it.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “The night I broke this, we got burgled! I figured it was lost in the clear-up. I mean, I was there alone, hiding under my bed. I had nightmares for…” He trailed off, hazy eyes focussing, laser-sharp, on Eddie. “How the hell did you..?”

Eddie spilled it all. He held Steve’s hand, thumb gently caressing, as they literally put the pieces together.

“I can’t believe your dad made you do that,” breathed Steve, engulfing Eddie in a clingy hug. Eddie was so relieved. The burglary was the only secret he’d kept from Steve, and Steve was sweet and cool about it. They also both understood a little more about why they were both slightly allergic to the c-word. “One thing I don’t get,” said Steve, “why did you keep it?”

“Truthfully? I wanted to model something too, but was too busy fooling around. Oh, and had nobody to give it too. Keeping it was totally crazy, apart from…” Eddie plastered a teasing, wet kiss on Steve’s lips. “Hey, all those years I thought you were a dick? Seems I was secretly carrying a candle for you after all.”

Steve’s smile spread slowly and showered starlight through Eddie’s world. “Yeah? Well, after all these years, I’ve discovered I made her for somebody I truly love.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

zero pressure tag: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[salsayz]

nikaido 💕 can never get enough of her

[6okuto]

taps my mic. osamu who's just opened onigiri miya, who's so, so proud of himself but scared shitless all the same when teammates and family call to check in on him, whose smile wobbles not from anxiety but excitement when a customer shyly walks in.

and you, who he quickly learns the name of because you visit on the first day, and keep coming the days after—the first regular he hopes, and you promise, of plenty more.

he asks you for your opinions on the menu so far, the stools he's still not sure about, the volume of the television playing above, if the takeout box, filled with experimental flavours, he gave you for free a couple days ago had any winners. you answer happily, and even if it's a shrug or hand gesture meaning "so-so," osamu appreciates it all, deadset on turning your so-so's to something unquestionably good.

you're his secret to keep for a while, a good luck charm (for the whole staff, he specifies when you tease him about it) when you walk in. so when atsumu and his team visit for the first time since the grand opening, and one of the employees happily exclaims your name as the doorbell chimes, he shoots his twin a look. "wow, big shot, y'got regulars already?"

but atsumu's teasing lasts only a moment before his expression morphs into one of confusion, and then another—one a twin sends his twin when he realizes he's been kept in the dark about something, someone, that brings a sickeningly happy smile to the other's face. osamu isn't even looking at him when he answers—"yeah, one."

[tomatoart]

the girls🌱🐍 ignore the twink on the right