#him and who he is in the same way she stifled Eddie himself

[stagefoureddiediaz]

You know what is still making me boil with rage is not the fact that Helena is raking Chris away - that she finally got what she wanted - it’s that she clearly thinks so little of Eddie that she is abandoning him when he very clearly needs help and support - the help and support of his family - their love - and he isn’t getting that.

Putting the Chris of it all to one side - Helena has abandoned her son on multiple occasions - she only ever sees his flaws - but isn’t interested in helping him in, supporting him, she is only interested in herself and how it makes her look, so she ignores his struggles because she would have to admit she is a awful parent and that she is responsible for so much of what has happened to Eddie and who he is as a result of her treatment throughout his entire life.

Eddie was always doomed to fail when it came to her and she sees Chris as her chance to have a do over - to mould Chris into what she sees as the perfect son she thinks she didn’t get with Eddie. It’s truly vindictive and that is the most horrifying part of it all and what makes her irredeemable in my eyes

[eddieswh0r]

Hiii!

I was wanting to request a fic where eddie and femreader! are best friends and roommates, eddie is in love with her but is too afraid to tell her in case it ruins things and she doesn't feel the same. so he naturally is quite jealous when he sees her with other guys, but what he doesnt know is reader feels the same way about him. one day eddie was meant to be at band practice all day but it finished early as gareth got sick, so eddie comes home and he walks by readers room and all he hears his her making sll sorts of moans and groans, and the door is open just a little so he can see her touching herself but she also is moaning his name. maybe he walks in or she sees him either way it could end up with some sex and a confession maybe?

let's get back into it with a smutty slow burner? 😉

'Best Friends Lend a Hand'

"Y/n, c'mon. Really? He's stood outside like he's taking you to fuckin' prom" peeking through the blinds that were being held open with a thumb and index finger, just enough to see down onto the street below, Eddie stifled his laughter "Look at him, he's got a fucking flower on his blazer. Wait.. Wait.. There's not even a button hole. It's just pinned on man.. No, stop it. Wait. Is that fucking sticky tape?" The curly haired metal head threw himself back down onto the sofa, holding his stomach as he erupted into fits of roaring laughter.

"You really need to stop calling it sticky tape Eddie, you're 24 and let me guess, you'd turn up on a date in a raggedy pair of jeans and your battle vest?" with a peek through the blinds yourself, your eyes widened. A short man who looked a little older than 25 like you'd been previously told and yes, as plain as day there was a wilted flower stuck to his blazer with the so-called 'sticky tape' attaching it.

"I'm so gonna get Harrington back for this." grabbing your bag off the arm of the sofa you pointed an outstretched finger at Eddie with narrowed eyes "You too!! you're both gonna pay so fuckin' bad for this!" with a slam of the door behind you, you lingered on the stairwell for a moment then sloped off to meet the blind date. The fucking horrible idea Harrington had concocted because he just wanted you to shut the fuck up about the lack of touch you so badly wanted. The few previous dates you'd been on were ok, nothing to write home about, there was no spark, they weren't thrilling, they weren't Eddie.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

"Yeah man, she left about twenty minutes ago - ish and she did NOT look happy" passing Steve a beer Eddie leant his hip on the kitchen counter "..We're gonna pay for this, she insisted on it actually. 'You're gonna pay so fuckin' bad'" mimicking your voice in a high pitched tone he laughed taking a big gulp from the cold bottle.

"You can fuck right off Munson if you think she's getting me back for this as well. I was doing alright, firing out the best people i knew for these dates. You.. You picked this one, who the fuck is this man?"

"Michael, you remember him right? few years older than us, his brother Tommy was in Robins science classes"

"MICHAEL? MICHAEL COOPER? Eddie he's at least 30 now. A few years older? Jesus CHRIST. She's gonna go mental. How did you even ask him?

"Saw him in the 7-Eleven parking lot"

Eddie knew what he was doing though, he wasn't just being a prick to his roommate, his best friend of 20 years for no reason. Seeing Steve organize all these dates for you and watching you go off with the jock looking buff boys made Eddies insides twist. 20 years is a hell of a long time to be crushing hard on someone right? But from the age of 4, you and Eddie had been completely inseparable. Kindergarten, first school, middle, high, college, work, roommates, the full lot, together. So let's be honest a crush for 20 years? No. That boy was completely in love with you but he'd never tell you. No way. But you wouldn't tell him either, he'd never know you felt the same, fuck he could never know. Ever.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

"I swear Eddie that date was traumatizing, you and Steve are in for it, just you wait. I don't mind an older man but 30 and already balding? You're both assholes for that" placing your cereal bowl in the sink you frowned crossing your arms, the previous events from last night whirling around in your head making you cringe. Pulling on his trainers Eddie hid the smirk that spread across his face as you told him all about the disastrous date.

"So lemme get this right, the sticky tape fell off and the flower fell riiiight into his soup?"

"Eddie i was so embarrassed, he was speaking so loud and people were staring and.. and then.. he fucking ate the flower swimming round in his soup, i wanted to die" slumping down into the sofa you looked over toward Eddie who was now chuckling to himself. God, if only the man who was stood in front of you would take you on a date.

"Wait.. Where you going anyway? I thought we had a movie marathon planned?" he better not be blowing you off for a date you thought, he did that once before and it didn't end well. You didn't speak to him for days and he did a bit too much groveling after that.

"Corroded Coffin rehearsal sweetheart, fuck. I thought i told you?" Grabbing his keys off the side, he looked at you with his big ol' puppy dog eyes "I'll make it up to you, i promise.. i gotta go"

"Asshole"

Eddie swung the door open and glanced back to you "Laters princess" flashing his teeth with a grin and finishing with a wink.

Fuuuck. If only he knew what those simple words did to you. That knot in your stomach tightened.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Hey, Doc! we better back up.

We don't have enough roads to get up to 88.

Roads?

Where we're going we don't need no roads.

"I will never get tired of that film" pressing the off button on the remote you sighed happily. You'd taken yourself to bed and curled up in your covers to watch yours and Eddies favorite film, even though he'd ditched you for band practice. The smell of his cologne wafted up to your nostrils from his band tee you wore. It's not like it was unusual for you to wear one of his t-shirts, in fact, it was more unusual for you not to be wearing one.

Boredom took over. The apartment was relatively clean, the laundry was done and you'd already picked at snacks throughout the film.

16:27 flashed on your alarm clock, Eddie had been gone for hours and he'd probably be gone a few more. Resting your hand on your stomach you tore your stare away from your ceiling toward your nightstand. A photo of you and Eddie from 2 years prior. Nancy had suggested a walk which sounded like a good idea at the time but it was a cold autumn morning and Steve did absolutely nothing but complain about the temperature the whole time. Nancy had bought her camera with her and caught the exact moment Eddie threw a big pile of golden orange and yellow leaves at you, he had his head thrown back laughing while the leaves fell around you. So as grumpy as you looked it was developed and placed in a frame for your 22nd birthday.

God, you were so in love with him. His hair, eyes, smile, neck, the dip in his chest, down towards his toned stomach which had his little trail leading towards.. towards..

"Mmm, fuck." your hand had found itself tucked inside your thin cotton panties, your finger drawing circles around what was now a wet pulsing bud of nerves as you thought about your best friend, the best friend you were absolutely madly in love with.

Closing your eyes and tilting your head back you slipped a second finger and applied more pressure wishing it was Eddie that was taking care of you, making you feel good.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Placing his keys on the small table next to the door Eddie scanned his eyes around the living room searching for you but nothing, he thought that you'd probably gone out to meet Nancy. He'd come back much earlier than expected, Gareth wasn't feeling great so they decided to call it a day.

"Oh Eddie."

His gaze quickly turned towards your bedroom door, faint squeaks and mewls coming from inside. Eddie gingerly made his way closer to the door, the faint orange hum of light from the bedside lamp shining through the slight crack of where it was left open.

"Feels so good, Eddie"

Hearing his name a second time he peeped one eye through the ajar door, eyes widening at what he could see in front of him. Sprawled on your bed with the covers no longer on you and Eddies tee bunched up just above your chest, one hand in your panties and the other caressing your breast with your hard, sensitive nipple rolling between your finger and thumb, your back arching every time you went a little faster. Eddie automatically palmed his now painfully hard erection through his jeans. Should he be doing this? This is wrong, that's my best friend he thought to himself but another moan of his name from your lips stopped that thought abruptly. He watched you gather your own slick on your index and middle finger letting your legs fall to the side and giving him a very clear view of what he wanted needed so bad, slowly sliding your fingers into your aching cunt a moan dragged from your throat which made Eddies breath hitch and palm his erection faster.

Eddie couldn't take it any longer, watching you take care of yourself like this, he needed to help. He needed to take care of you himself.

"Need a hand sweetheart?" gently pushing your bedroom door open his eyes darkened with want as he took a slow pace towards the end of your bed. You stopped what you were doing, you weren't nervous or even embarrassed. Looking up at him with big doe eyes you gave a simple nod and that was more than enough for him. Eddie walked round to the side of your bed while unfastening his belt, letting his jeans fall down to his ankles, followed by his boxers. Your eyes widened as his hard dick slapped against his stomach on release. Holy fuck he was gifted.

"I'm gonna take care of you now, 'kay? Just relax baby. M'gonna make you feel so good" Eddie climbed on top of you, pushing your legs apart with his knees. Nuzzling his way into your neck his teeth nipped at your skin, grazing down to your collarbone. You watched his every move not wanting to miss his perfect fucking face making its way over your torso.

"You miss me princess?" his voice muffled as his mouth enveloped around your nipple, the connection rapidly sending your hands to his mass of curly hair with a soft moan flowing from your lips, Eddie pinched your nipple between his teeth as he dragged a hand across your thigh, gripping the inside. Letting your nipple go from his mouth with a pop he gave you the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen.

"I’ll take that as a yes?" Taking his bottom lip between his teeth he edged down toward the end of the bed, hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you towards him.

“Eddie, wait!!” You called, Eddie let go of your legs in a panic, you watched his face drop as you knew every kind of thought would be running through his head.

“I don’t think it’s fair Eddie” you pouted your lips, dropping your head ever so slightly

“W-we can stop? If that’s what you want princess? We don’t have to do this, I don’t wanna ruin our friendship”

“Well.. I just kinda mean.. like.. you still have your top on” it was your turn to wear the shit-eating grin now and watch the relief wash over Eddies face. In a flash he removed his top and flung it over to the side. His toned body in all its glory, right there in front of you, begging to be touched, every single part of it, you wanted to cover with your lips.

“Is that what you wanted, Sweetheart? Is that better now?” A breath you didn’t know you were holding escaped and Eddie leaned forward and pushed his lips on yours, snapping you from your stare. Slow, wet kisses at first switched on what felt like lightening dancing in your stomach which quickly turned to messy, open-mouthed kisses, tongues circling in unison, trying to find each other at every opportunity. Eddie pulled away breathless, leaving nothing but a string of saliva between you. Sitting up he resumed his position and hooked his arms under your legs pulling you closer. You bit your bottom lip in arousal and anticipation as Eddie looked down at you giving you a quick nod and the most beautiful smile, you nod back confirming the go ahead and be didn’t hesitate.

“Just relax sweetheart, if you wanna stop.. tell me.. ‘Kay?” He slowly pressed against your soaking wet opening with the tip of his dick, rubbing up and down gathering your wetness on his end.

“Oh f-fuck, you’re fuckin’..” cutting himself off from his own sentence he slipped inside of you, feeling your gummy walls clench around his length almost immediately. Your head threw back and a moan of his name left your lips pronto.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie” gripping the sheets and throwing your head back at the bliss. Eddie pushed in to the hilt and picked up a pace rather quickly which earned groans from his direction.

“Sweetheart, you’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this”

“Eddie, shut up and fuck me” you giggled breathless. Deep and hard, faster and faster. The fire in your stomach was unbearable and the taste of sweet release was moments away.

“Eddie. I- I’m gonna..”

“Cum for me, there’s a good girl.” Those words tipped you over the fuckin edge, as you clenched your walls around him waves of euphoria washed over you, knuckles turning white from the sheets in your grasp, your mouth hung open but no sound was audible. Your body shook as your reached your ultimate high.

“There it is, fuck. Such a good girl for me” Eddie praised as he reached his own high, burying his warm seed deep inside you. Your name and curses rolling off his tongue.

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

What felt like hours passed and somehow the covers had found their way onto you both, Eddies arms wrapped around you and your head on his chest while it gently rose and fell with every breath. You didn’t know what was to happen next only that you both didn’t want this to end, you and Eddie had waited for this moment and no one was going to take it away. Your eyes slowly closed as tiredness took over as it did for Eddie.

“I love you, Sweetheart”

────────⊳⋆⊲────────

Oh please I’ve been fucking working on this for months and the last few paras are SO fuckin rushed because it was just sitting in my drafts.

Love you all😩🥰

[therogueheart]

Familial | Evan Buckley & Bobby Nash

Relationship(s): Evan Buckley & Bobby Nash | Background Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: Gen Warnings: N/A

“Well, well, well, how the tables have turned.”

Buck flopped into the chair with a grin, all long legs and dark smudges under his eyes that betrayed his light mood.

“Is this where you lecture me on safety and tell me I’m benched for the next month?” Bobby croaked, turning his head with a tired smile. Buck looked down, scuffing his heels on the floor and shrugging.

“Nah. I’ve never been on that side of the lecture. I wouldn’t do it as good,” the kid smiled. “Besides. Doc said six weeks minimum, that’s longer than a month.”

“So it is,” Bobby agreed. He took a moment to observe Buck, to note the way he clenched his fingers around the chair arms, the torn skin on his lips and the way his hair lay in rampant curls, free of its usual pomade.

“When did you last sleep?” he asked, reaching for his water.

“I slept,” Buck answered, launching forwards to grab the glass and pass it over. Bobby took it with a patient, bemused smile.

“Uh huh. When?”

“Within the last three days,” Buck hummed vaguely. Bobby squinted at him but knew a losing fight when he saw one, so he dropped his sword with dignity.

“That for me?”

On his beside was a bundle of flowers, an ornate cross pinned in their midst and a lopsided teddy bear with a stuffed heart proclaiming get well soon, Dad!

Dad.

His heart ached, a deep, innermost pain different to the rest. Buck’s cheeks had flushed now, one knee bouncing where nerves had begun to stack like building blocks.

“Nah. They’re for the other guy,” Buck answered, even though Bobby had found himself in a private room. He gave a low hum and finally sipped his water, letting Buck set the glass down when he was done.

“Not that I’m expecting a parade–but where are the others?”

“Eddie bullied Athena into going home to eat something and shower. Hen and Chim are on B-shift, Eddie’s dropping Chris off at Abuela’s.”

Abuela’s. Not his Abuela’s. Just Abuela’s. Bobby fought off a weak smile, relaxing back against his pillow. He could’ve slept again, except a poorly stifled sniffle cut through the quietness.

“Buck?” he rolled over, catching Buck as he hastily tried to wipe his eyes. He was crying, Bobby realized, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Hey, hey. C’mere. We’re both okay.”

He opened his arms and after a moment of uncertainty his youngest pushed himself up, tripping across the room and folding that mile-long body onto the edge of the bed and into Bobby’s arms. He smelt like old aftershave and faded laundry detergent and the tar that masqueraded as coffee in the hospital cafeteria. 

It was a tight fit and he had no idea how Buck had managed to tuck his legs up so tight, but Bobby clutched at him all the same, petting through his hair and murmuring low comforts. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Buck hiccuped after a while, fingers twisting in the front of Bobby’s hospital gown. “I didn’t mean to cry. You're hurt and I’m making you take care of me, and—”

“Nobody could make me take care of you, Buck,” Bobby interrupted, scuffing him gently upside the head. “I do it because I want to. Because I’d do it anyway. I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad I’ve got an excuse to hug you.”

Because Bobby had learned not to take hugging his loved ones for granted over the years. He’d learned that any and every hug could be the last. Not least; he’d learned that Buck had barely been hugged at all aside from Maddie, and if the Buckley parents weren’t going to step up then Bobby damn well would.

“You don’t need an excuse,” Buck sniffled, clutching him tighter. And no, Bobby didn’t. But Buck still had issues with asking for what he needed and if Bobby could ease that burden he would, as he’d ease all their ills.

“I’m an old man who likes to cling to his kids. Indulge me, spring chicken,” he murmured, movement in the doorway catching his eye. It was Athena, her expression soft and unguarded when she saw them, and when she met his gaze she pressed a finger to her lips and backed away with a smile.

How he adored her.

“I thought I lost you,” Buck rasped, shifting. And then; “don’t ever do that again!” in his best impression of Bobby’s ‘stern captain dad’ voice, as Buck called it. 

(And now, too, Eddie, because where Buck led Eddie followed.)

"Ain't gonna make no promises," Bobby managed in a poor imitation of Buck, though his voice ached with held back tears.

God, he loved this kid. He loved all his kids, of course, but there was something innate about Buck that brought out the paternal urge to protect and guide within him.

“You don’t have the right kind of Penny twang,” Buck snuffed, but some of the sorrow had lifted from him as he carefully tucked an edge of the pale blue blanket tighter around Bobby’s ribs.

“I can’t be good at everything,” Bobby shrugged ruefully, pursing his lips. And then, because it had to be said; “Buck. I know you’re blaming yourself. I want you to know none of this is on you. No blame, no responsibility, nothing.”

Buck’s face twisted.

“Don’t make me call Athena,” Bobby warned, and smiled when Buck abruptly dropped the brewing argument. Not for long, he was sure. Guilt had a way of sticking to Buck, but they could work on it.

“Now.” Petting at Buck’s arm, he turned a fond gaze to the ceiling. “Tell me how long you and Eddie have been dating in secret.”

Buck spluttered so hard Bobby was grateful they were already in a hospital.

“We’re not—!”

“I was dying, kid. Not blind. I saw that kiss.”

[werepuppy-steve]

steddie dads | wc: 669 | cw: none

Steve pauses outside the bathroom in the downstairs hallway, basket of dirty laundry tucked under his arm. The door is shut, which isn’t weird, but he can hear little splashes on the other side of it and what sounds like plastic bottles being dropped on the counter. Steve presses his ear to the wood and the whispered muttering tells him all he needs to know.

He needs to get these clothes in the washer first, so he takes the basket down to the laundry room before coming back to the bathroom. He doesn’t bother knocking, if he does, it’ll just make room for a hurried clean up. He turns the knob as quietly as he can (it’s not locked, thank God) but as soon as he opens the door, he’s hit in the face with a smell that makes his nose burn and his eyes water. Emma stands on her princess step stool in front of the sink, completely oblivious to him standing there.

The sink that’s filled with blue soapy water and smells like a Hollister store exploded.

Steve crosses his arms and leans against the doorway as Emma stays concentrated on whatever concoction she’s making, muttering under her breath in a way that undeniably makes her Eddie’s child. “What’cha doin’ there, Emmylou?”

Emma jumps and the bottle of lotion she slips out of her little hands and clatters on the tile. Her brown eyes wide as saucers and her mouth puckered in a tiny ‘o’ shape. It makes her look like an adorable fish and Steve has to clear his throat to stifle his laughter.

“Looks like an awful big mess in here.”

“I’m making potion.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Potion?”

“Mhm.” Emma nods, her curls, identical to Eddie’s, bouncing. “I’m a witch.”

Steve takes stock of the multiple bottles covering the counter; shampoo, conditioner, sunscreen, his and Eddie’s (expensive) cologne, lotion. You name it, it’s probably been poured in the sink. Briefly, Steve wonders if he’ll have to get underneath and unclog the drain. They’re definitely going over budget on groceries next week to replace everything.

Still, Steve can’t bring himself to actually be mad at her for being a kid and having an active imagination. He steps into the room and tries not to cough from the fumes wafting from the hot water. Christ, he’s gotta get Emma out of here and into fresh air.

“Well, Miss Witch, what do you say we clean all of this up and you can use those potion making still to help me make dinner? Dad’s gonna be home soon.”

At the mention of Eddie, Emma gasps and quickly scrambles off the step stool, but Steve is quicker. He catches her under the arms and puts her right back where she was.

“Not so fast, little lady,” he says, his hands on his hips. He will not be swayed by the pout his daughter is giving him. The very same pout that makes him cave to every ridiculous idea Eddie has ever had. He has to be stern. “What are the rules about messes?”

Emma lets out the biggest sigh her tiny body is capable of. “If you do the crime, you gotta do the time,” she mumbles.

Steve bends to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Smart girl. Go grab a towel and clean up the water, please. I’ll take care of the bottles.”

Ten minutes later, the sink is drained and cleaned and the bottles are thrown away, but the smell has permeated the room completely. Figuring out what to do about it is a job for later-Steve, so he shuts the door and gets Emma upstairs for her own bath before they start on dinner.

When Eddie comes home from the studio, he dips into the bathroom and Steve doesn’t bother holding back his laughs when Eddie drops to the floor and crawls back out, coughing like he’s a cat with a hairball.

“Jesus Christ, who made fucking anthrax in the bathroom?!”

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero

support my writing ☕

[hbyrde36]

for @penny00dreadful

Ch 1 Ch 2 <-

Chapter 3: The Emerald City

WC: 3580 | Ch 3/4 | AO3 <-

Steve woke up to snowflakes tickling his nose, and the familiar sound of Robin rambling.

No, not Robin, The Scarecrow, he reminded himself as he blinked his eyes open, because they were still stuck in Oz trying to get back home. 

He never thought he’d be so desperate to see Hawkins again. 

Wait—snowflakes?

“Oh, it does help! Look, they're waking up!” The Scarecrow cheered. “Steve, Eddie, Lion?! Are you alright?”

“Unusual weather we’re having.” The Lion muttered, letting out a huge yawn to Steve's left.

To his right, where he still faced—where their hands were still laced together between their bodies because neither of them had let go even in sleep—Eddie began to stir.

“Steve?”

Steve sat up, pulling Eddie up along with him and into his arms, crushing the other boy to his chest. The snowfall slowed to a stop as they held each other.

Eddie pulled back, running his hands up and down Steve’s shoulders, arms, and chest, as if he was searching him for wounds, before they found their way to Steve’s face, gently wiping away the wetness left behind by the melting snow. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked.

Steve stared back at him, feeling lightheaded and a little breathless, unsure if it was due to the poppies or the way Eddie was handling him like he was something precious. ”I think so, w–what about you?”

“Better now.” Eddie smiled, tilting his head as he fully cupped Steve’s cheek. 

The touch was warm and gentle, and the look in Eddie’s eyes so tender that Steve couldn’t help turning away to blush—the butterflies waging assault in his stomach returning with a vengeance.

The move had him looking back at the others for the first time, and while The Scarecrow was helping The Lion to his feet, The Tin Woman stood behind them, frozen. 

“Damn, the snow—it’s got her rusted again.”

Eddie pushed himself to his feet and offered Steve a hand up. He teetered for a second on the heels, forgetting for a moment that he was even wearing them, but quickly righted himself, and together they searched through the tall flowers until they found the oil can—getting right to work on the Tin Woman’s many joints. 

“Do you think it really was the snow that woke us up?” Steve said, passing the can over to Eddie so he could get the other side of their new friend.

Eddie nodded, pursing his lips as he glanced at the clouds above with suspicion. “I think it’s likely that Glinda had something to do with it. Like maybe she’s been watching us.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He didn’t blame Eddie for being wary after everything they’d been through, but he couldn't help wanting to trust The Good Witch. Maybe it was only because she looked like Joyce, but he was pretty sure she was a genuinely good person. 

“We should get out of this field quickly then, before it all melts, and not look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Y’know, I never understood that expression. I mean, it’s ridiculous! Why a horse? Who is looking in a horse’s mouth anyways? And what the fuck does any of it have to do with gift receiving?!”

The short speech had the air of an old Eddie Munson lunch table tirade, and Steve had to stifle a laugh. “I don't know, never really thought about it I guess.”

After one last treatment of oil to her knee, The Tin Woman was good to go, quickly thanking them before rushing off to check on The Lion. Steve shook his head as he watched them together, supposing some things were the same in every universe. 

-

Once they got moving again it didn’t take long to reach the front gates of The Emerald City. Unfortunately, they were locked up tight with no one around and nothing indicating a way to proceed save for a bit of rope hanging next to the entrance. 

After examining it for a moment Eddie shrugged, and pulled, setting off the ringing of a bell. 

A hidden window cut into the thick doors burst open above their heads, revealing a guard in a tall fuzzy green hat, who looked suspiciously like Steve’s ex-best friend, Tommy Hagan, though he knew better by now than to think it actually was.

“Who’s out here ringing that damn bell!”

“Uh–” Steve’s eyes slid sideways, sharing a confused look with Eddie before reaching his arm up high to wave in front of the guy’s face. “We are? Can’t you see us?”

“Of course I can see you.” The guard looked down his nose. “Can’t you read?”

“Read what?” Steve asked.

“The notice!”

Eddie threw his hands up. “What notice?”

The guard looked all around, heaving a put-upon sigh before reaching somewhere behind him, producing a sign that he strung up without a word before ducking away, slamming his little window closed.

“Bell out of order, please knock.” The Tin Woman read aloud.

“Sounded like it worked just fine to me.” Eddie grumbled.

“Stop screwing around and let us in, man!” Steve shouted.

The Tin Woman squeezed past them and rapped her knuckles against the gate three times. “Let's just play their game so we can get inside.” 

The little window popped back open immediately, though the guard looked no less annoyed. “That’s more like it! Now, what do you want?”

“We’re here to see The Wizard.” Steve said.

“The Wizard?” The guard scoffed. “No one gets to see the Great Oz, even I’ve never seen him!”

“Then how do you know there is one?” The Scarecrow asked.

“Well b-b-because,” he stuttered. “It doesn't matter! Get lost, you’re wasting my time.”

“But the Good Witch of the North sent us!”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

Steve looked at each of his companions, scrambling for any idea of what might serve as proof, when suddenly Eddie perked up, snapping his fingers. “The shoes! He’s wearing the ruby slippers she gave him!”

The guard leaned over the edge of his cubby hole to look, gasping when he set eyes on Steve’s feet, and completely changed his tune. “Oh, well alright then! Why didn’t you say that in the first place? That's a horse of a different color! Of course you can come in!”

“Enough with the horse metaphors already!” Eddie huffed.

The Scarecrow tilted her head. “I think it’s less of a metaphor and more of an idiom.” 

Eddie scowled. “I thought you didn’t have a brain, Scarecrow?”

The gigantic doors that served as gates to the city finally swung open, granting them entrance to a grand center, where people of all shapes and sizes, dressed in various shades of vibrant green, bustled about.

The guard reappeared to shake Steve’s hand, having come down from his perch, and was now joined by a female guard that resembled—who else—Carol Perkins. Just like their real world counterparts, now that Steve had proved himself to be someone important, they seemed more than happy to be associated—with him at least. 

“So, The Wizard?” Eddie prompted.

“Not so fast.” The female guard said, looking Eddie up and down with clear disdain. “I think we’d better take you someplace to clean up a bit first.”

Steve opened his mouth to tell her where she could shove her attitude, but Eddie spoke first.

“Thanks, but no thanks. We don't have time for a makeover montage. Take us to The Wizard, or—“

“Or what?” 

The one who looked like Tommy puffed up his chest, and Steve had officially had enough. He stepped between the guard and Eddie, jabbing him hard in the chest. “Hey buddy, we’ve fought monsters, okay? We can take two stuck up dickheads, so I suggest you back off and take us where we want to go.”

The guard cast his eyes around nervously. They were starting to draw the attention of passers by now. “Fine, follow me.” 

As the pair led their group across the square, Steve finally let himself relax enough to take a good look around. He marveled at the floor, so dark green it looked almost black, and buffed to such a high shine that he could see his reflection in it as they walked. 

As usual, they didn't get far before something went wrong. 

Frantic whispers broke out amongst the crowd, with many citizens pointing up into the air with worried expressions, making them all stop in their tracks to look up too, just as the words: Surrender Steve & Eddie, began to appear, written in the sky with black smoke.

“Shit.” Eddie cursed.

“It’s The Wicked Witch, she followed us here.” Steve said.

The scattered whispers raised to shouts as everyone around them started wondering aloud who this mysterious Steve and Eddie were. 

“The wizard will explain it!” Someone hollered nearby, prompting many folks to start rushing towards a certain set of doors, similar to the front gates of the city but on a slightly smaller scale.

Steve glanced around, unsurprised to find that their guides, the Tommy and Carol look-alikes, had abandoned them. “What should we do?”

“Follow the crowd,” Eddie rushed out. “We still need to see The Wizard, and they’ll lead us right to him.”

Somehow they managed to push their way to the front of the gathering mass, only to encounter yet another guard with a familiar face and mane of very long dark hair addressing the crowd.

“Okay, my dudes. Just stay calm, it’s alright! The Great and Powerful Oz has everything under control. Just, uh, go on home and chill out or whatever.”

While the inhabitants of the Emerald City dispersed, taking the guard at his word, Steve, Eddie, and their companions continued to approach.

“We need to see The Wizard, right away.” Steve said.

The guard shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, brochacho, but no one gets in to see The Wizard.”

“But they’re Steve and Eddie!” The Tin Woman said.

“Woah, the Witch’s Steve and Eddie?”

Steve wanted to scream—who else could they possibly mean?! But he held back, knowing it wouldn’t do them any good to piss off the guy who stood between them, and the one person in this insane place that could get them home. 

“Holy macaroni, that does make a difference! Wait here.” With a swish of his hair the guard was gone around the corner. 

Steve barely had enough time to wonder how long they’d have to wait, before the guy was back, and he couldn’t quite decide if the quick turnaround time was a good sign or a bad one.

“Okay dudes, good news or bad news?”

The question didn’t bode well, and Steve knew exactly what Eddie would say before he said it.

“Bad news first, always.”

The guard sighed. “The wizard said, and I quote: go away.”

“But–”

“The good news is,” the guard carried on, lowering his voice to a loud whisper, “I heard a field of poppies appeared right outside of the city. Care to partake in a little magical shut eye with a new friend—that’s me—on this fine afternoon?”

Steve turned away before the guy was even done speaking, stalking off to sit on a nearby curb. He’d had enough magical sleep in his life, thank you very much, enough times of falling unconscious only to wake up not knowing where he was. He was done with this shit, it was supposed to be over!

When they defeated Vecna and the Upside Down was destroyed, he thought it was finally his turn for happiness, or at the very least some peace—some normalcy. 

But now? 

Now he was stuck here in this place, he and Eddie both. They’d done what The Good Witch said, traveled all this way, only made it there by the skin of their teeth, and now The Wizard wouldn't even see them?! 

He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare. 

Steve dropped his head into his hands, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, and felt the air shift as someone knelt down in front of him. He knew it was Eddie without having to look, the smell of cigarettes wafting over him, and something else, something warm and woodsy and distinctly Eddie, faintly under that. 

“We’re never gonna get back are we?” Steve cried into his palms. “I’ll never get to see Robin again—and Wayne?! God, he must be worried sick about you already. And the kids? We won’t get to see them finish high school, and–”

Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrists, gently prying his hands away from his face. “Hey, Stevie. Look at me, please?”

He did. 

He looked up because Eddie had asked, but gazing into those dark soulful eyes did nothing to halt his tears. “I just wanted to get us home.” 

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” Eddie leaned in, resting his forehead against Steve’s as he took a deep breath. “And I miss everyone too, but let’s not give up hope just yet. We’ve beaten worse odds than this, haven't we?”

Steve sniffled, and despite it all felt his lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. Because Eddie was right. They were alive, and they had each other, and that was more than enough reason to still have hope. 

“You know what, man?” The guard called out, looking a little misty eyed himself. “Let me see what I can do, because that was the sweetest shit I’ve ever seen, and love like that shouldn’t go unrewarded. How long have you two been a couple?”

Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as he was forcibly reminded that they were not alone, and how close they now were. He pulled back reflexively, sputtering, “oh, um, well–”

Eddie shook his head, smiling as he rose to his feet to face the guard, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “He’s not, um—w-we’re just friends.”

The guard looked between them for a moment, mouth agape. “Really?”

“Is that… is that allowed here? Two men?” Steve heard himself ask.

“Your Tin lady and Lion friend over there have been making goo-goo eyes at each other this whole time and no one cared, of course it’s allowed! What kind of silly question is that?”

“I guess they don’t have homophobia in Oz either.” Steve said quietly, glancing up at Eddie, who was now eyeing him curiously.

“Okay, well, a friendship like that shouldn't go unrewarded either—so!” 

With a grin, and a nod, the guard ducked away again, and just like the gates out front, the doors to the Wizard’s chambers swung open wide.

For the third time since they landed in this strange place, Steve looked up to find Eddie’s hand already reaching out to help him stand, and as he had each time before, he took it readily, a warmth settling in his chest along with the knowledge that Eddie would always pick him up when he needed it. 

This time, when he was back on his feet, Steve didn’t let go, and with their fingers entwined, he and Eddie rushed over to rejoin their friends.

The five of them set off through the doorway together, walking down a long dark hallway that spilled them out into a throne room, of sorts. Except there wasn’t a throne sitting on the raised dais, or if it was, it was unlike any throne Steve had ever imagined before, with the visage of a giant glowing head floating behind it, the whole scene flanked by two columns of fire. 

“Come forward.” A deep voice boomed like thunder, echoing throughout the room.

Steve gripped Eddie’s hand tighter as they all took a step forward. He kept trying to get a better look at what he assumed to be the Wizard, but between the flames and the occasional bursts of smoke that came from nowhere, it was impossible to get a clear view. 

“I am Oz, the great and powerful. Who are you?”

Steve gulped, beginning to sweat from the heat and nerves. “We’re Steve and Eddie, uh, sir, and we’ve come to ask you—”

“Silence! The Great and Powerful Oz knows why you all have come.”

“If he already knew, then why did he ask who we were?!” Eddie ground out between clenched teeth.

Steve agreed with him actually, but shushed him anyway. 

“And, I have every intention of granting your requests, but first you must prove yourselves worthy by performing a small task.”

“Oh! Like, a side quest?” Eddie blurted out. 

“Bring me the broomstick of The Wicked Witch of the West,” the voice went on as if it hadn’t been interrupted. 

The Scarecrow sucked in a breath. “But, we’d probably have to kill her to get it!”

“Are we sure about this?” The Tin Woman asked.

The Lion ducked his head. “I don’t know how much help I'll be.”

“I mean, me and Steve—” Eddie bit his lip. “We’ve killed before.”

“Those were monsters though, this is—”

“Enough!” The voice roared, effectively cutting Steve off and ending their debate. “I have spoken. Now go! Bring it to me and I’ll give you what you want.”

-

In one last act of kindness, the guard who looked like Argyle led them back out of the city and put them on the road to The Witch’s castle, though only after trying to talk them out of it at least a dozen times. 

It was dark, night having fallen while they were busy trying to see the wizard, and the woods they now walked through were even creepier than The Lion’s. 

The path ahead was unclear at first, and Steve worried they might be lost until they came upon a sign.

Haunted Forest. Witch’s Castle 1 mile.

If only all bad guys gave you clear concise directions.

However the sign also said—I'd turn back if I were you—which did nothing to boost morale.

Honestly, Steve wasn’t really afraid of The Witch, they’d gone head-to-head against much scarier things than her, actual magic aside, but that was part of the problem. When you got past the green skin, she looked so human. He didn’t think he had it in him to hurt her unless she was actively trying to end their lives. 

Maybe he could charm her into giving the broomstick up?

They followed the sign and ventured deeper and deeper into the woods, the eerie quiet only broken by the occasional owl hooting from their perch in the trees. 

The Scarecrow swallowed hard. “You don’t think those owls have rabies, do you?”

“Not them, as far as I can tell, but what about those things?!” The Lion’s voice shook as he pointed up into the sky, what they could see of it between the trees.

Now that he saw them, Steve could also hear them, an army of winged creatures that seemed to be heading their way, emitting the oddest screeching sounds. 

His eyes quickly found Eddie’s, and he saw all the blood drained from the other boy’s face. Logically, he knew it couldn’t be the same creatures that had injured him and come so close to ending Eddie's life, that dimension was gone now and these things were far too big to be those, but the incoming attack was all too reminiscent of a demobat swarm.

“Run!” Steve shouted, grabbing Eddie with both hands and pushing him into action, their fellow travelers rushing along behind. They needed to get away—far and fast. 

It didn't take long to realize they were fucked. 

They had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and their pursuers were too swift to outpace. In the blink of an eye Eddie was airborne, grabbed from above by a pair of small hands. Steve reared back, digging his heels into the dirt, desperate to keep his hold on Eddie's hand. 

Now that one of the things was up close and personal, Steve finally got a look at what they were dealing with, and couldn't believe it. 

Flying monkeys. 

Of course this fucking place would have flying monkeys.

And of course they worked for The Wicked Witch. 

The Scarecrow screamed, loud and terrified, and Steve could do nothing but watch in horror as two of the winged primates ripped her apart limb by limb, her straw flying everywhere, spreading out around her.

“No!” Steve sobbed, wanting to go to her, to try and help, but he could not let go of Eddie. 

At least she had The Tin Woman and The Lion by her side.

Eddie shouted as a second monkey joined the first in their little game of tug-o-war, this one gripping him tightly by the hair, but he wasn’t screaming for help, no, he was screaming at Steve to let go—to save himself. 

Like Steve would ever leave him behind. 

He snarled, doubling his efforts until suddenly his own feet lifted off the ground. 

The monkeys had a hold of him now too, one on each arm. They lifted, and tugged, and pulled, and Eddie was wrenched from his grasp. Steve tried to fight the creatures off at first but quickly gave in, realizing that at least this way he and Eddie would wind up in the same place… probably.

On the bright side, now that they had what they’d come for, all the monkeys seemed to be leaving, following the ones who carried Steve and Eddie to their destination.

Steve just hoped the others had gotten away, that they were alright, and that they would take care of The Scarecrow and put her back together again. 

Chapter 4

Thanks again to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help with this!

[henrystars]

We Are Family

April 29th.

That’s the day Steve’s world as he knows it comes crashing down. Sort of, at least.

Ironically, they’ve just finished having sex when it happens. Sweat slick skin pressed together from calf to shoulder, legs tangled up beneath the old Garfield comforter that Eddie refuses to be shamed for still owning.

“I can’t believe you fuck me with the same dick that’s been inside my sister,” Eddie says with the sort of nonchalance that Steve expects for a casual conversation about work or how Wayne is doing or what they’re having for dinner or like, literally anything else.

Certainly not this, that’s for sure.

“Pardon?” he asks calmly, trying as hard as he can to keep the wobble out of his voice. And mostly succeeding too, despite the way his chest is suddenly beating so violently against his rib cage he’s convinced there’s no feasible way Eddie can’t hear it too. “You’re an only child from Montana. I know I have…” He pauses, mulls it over in his mind for a second while he chooses his words. “History,” he settles on.

Eddie always gets weirdly touchy when Steve speaks about his dating history derogatorily. Steve isn’t entirely sure why.

It’s kind of cute, though, so it’s not as if he minds.

Eddie hums, seemingly content with his choice before he snuffles a little as he turns in Steve’s arms, pressing his face into his armpit in a way that should probably be gross but somehow isn’t. He blinks up at him, waiting for Steve to carry on.

“I know I have history but I’m not that bad,” he huffs. “I know I’ve put my dick around a fair bit but it certainly doesn’t reach all the way to Montana.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eddie mumbles under his breath, earning him a kick to the ankle from Steve. “Also you do know I moved here when I was like, six right?”

Steve quiets him with a quick wave of the hand that’s been wrapped around Eddie’s shoulder, using it to tuck a few stray curls back behind his ear before he returns it to where it had been, stroking soft lines against his skin.

“Of course I know that,” he scoffs, slightly offended that Eddie might think he doesn’t. “I’m not entirely sure why that’s relevant, though.”

“How is it not relevant?” Eddie asks, brows furrowed.

“It’s - I mean - you know what, shut the fuck up. You’re distracting me from the point in hand here,” Steve huffs, rolling his eyes when he notices Eddie’s own crinkling at the corners. “You’re such a dick,” he chides.

Eddie stifles a chuckle against Steve's skin, hot breath tickling him softly as he mumbles an insincere sorry against his chest.

They’re quiet for a moment before Steve speaks again.

“So….” he drawls, fingers tracing nonsense patterns against Eddie’s shoulder. “Are you actually gonna tell me what the fuck you’re talking about or…”

“Oh,” Eddie perks up, pops his head up from where it’s been wedged against Steve’s armpit. “Nancy, obviously. Who else would it be?”

“What?” Steve splutters, pushing himself upright against the mattress to stare down at Eddie. “Oh my God…”

Eddie shrugs, reaches for the comforter to pull it back up over his newly exposed bare chest. He looks utterly ridiculous, Steve thinks, as he often does when he lies there freshly fucked and rosy cheeked beneath the fluffy blanket he’s had since middle school.

It’s a good job Steve loves him.

This stupid, ridiculous boy who, as it turns out, could’ve been his brother in law in another life.

Steve shudders at the thought.

“I don’t - it’s not like - you don’t see the resemblance?” he asks, shucking a hand free to push at his curls as if it’s obvious.

“Okay well first of all, Nancy has a perm.”

“She does not.”

“Does too.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie shakes his head against the pillow. “Them are some real genuine Munson family curls, baby.”

He looks so proud that Steve almost doesn't want to burst his bubble.

Almost.

He rolls his eyes. “Hate to break it to you, baby, but Nance and I were together long enough for me to know that she definitely has a perm,” he says with a shrug. “Nothing natural about those curls I’m afraid.”

Eddie gapes at him, mouth opening and closing a few times as if he can’t quite decide where to go from here.

Eventually he sighs, tucking a hand up under his cheek as he says, “Guess you learn something new every day.”

Yeah, Steve thinks with a tut that goes unnoticed, you really do.

“I can’t believe she lied to me,” Eddie mutters dejectedly, burrowing himself further beneath the stupid blanket. Garfield’s eyes are exactly level with where Eddie’s nipples should be and the sight of it is making Steve want to scream.

Steve pats his head the way he would a sad dog; enough for Eddie to know he’s still there but gentle enough that he hopes he won’t get bitten for it.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, head cocking in Eddie’s direction. “Nancy knows about this?”

“About…about being…my sister?”

Steve nods tentatively, watching as Eddie rolls his eyes.

“How the fuck d’ya think I found out?” he asks as if it’s obvious. As if any of this had even been within the realms of possibility for Steve before this very moment.

“From Nancy? Nancy Wheeler? The same Nancy we both know?”

He rolls his eyes again.

“No, Steve. An entirely different Nancy. Yes the same Nancy we both fucking know. Why would I be telling you this if it wasn’t?”

“I dunno,” he mutters quietly. Tacks on an even quieter, “Why are you telling me at all?”

Eddie sits up, mirroring Steve’s position on his own side of the bed as the blanket pools around his soft hips. The outline of the new tattoo that sits atop his thigh peeks out from underneath it, the thick black ink dark against his pale skin.

“This isn’t - this doesn’t…” he trails off.

“No, no,” Steve interrupts with a shake of his head, mostly believing himself. “It’s-”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet then, nothing but their breathing and the distant hum of the refrigerator in the next room filling the space around them.

Steve tries not to let his mind wander, to think the worst. Of course he doesn’t want this to change things between them, why would he. But how can it not. How can they-

“Do you-”

“How do-”

Eddie chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his face as he mutters a muffled sorry and motions for Steve to continue.

“I don’t - I’m confused,” he says. He mulls it over in his mind, brows furrowing in confusion. “How does that even work?”

“Well,” Eddie starts, taking Steve’s hands between his own equally clammy ones. “When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much-”

Steve cuts him off with an eye roll, pushing his hands away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Eddie rushes out, grabbing for his fingers again, only continuing when they’re back between his own. “I’m sorry,” he giggles.

Steve shakes his head, powerless to damp down the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips no matter how hard he tries.

“Continue.”

Eddie nods.

“Okay, so,” he takes a deep breath. “Sometime in the summer of sixty six Uncle Wayne had to make a trip down here for some reason and he was young and dumb and-”

“Hang on-” Steve interrupts, watching as Eddie blinks up at him, light from the lamp over in the corner glinting in his big brown eyes. “This is about Wayne?”

Eddie makes a face as if to say duh, who the fuck else would it be about. As if Steve is the idiot here.

“You - you do know Wayne isn’t actually your dad, right?”

Eddie pouts.

“He is the clos-”

“-est thing to a father you’ve ever had,” Steve joins in, smirking as Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, no. I know. But you didn’t fucking come from his jizz, did you?”

Eddie pulls a face.

“Please don’t talk about my uncle like that.”

“I’m just saying-”

“Okay but don’t?”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Steve huffs.

Eddie smiles and leans over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You were saying?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s not like you came from…” he trails off, gestures the hand that’s not holding Eddie’s in the direction of his balls. “He’s not your actual dad, yano?”

“Of course I know that,” Eddie tuts.

Steve raises his eyebrows at him expectantly.

“What?” he asks.

“So…”

Eddie stares at him, confused. “So…?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “So, she’s not your sister at all then, is she?”

“No but like - I mean,” he pauses, presses his lips together tightly. “In a round about way-”

“Uh-huh,” Steve interrupts with a shake of his head. “Actually literally not even at all.”

“Close enough.”

“Not really.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he mutters. “But she’s still more my sister than yours.”

“Thank God,” Steve laughs. “Given that I’m the one who’s had their dick inside her.”

He watches as Eddie bites his lip.

“Wait. You haven’t-”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

“Okay, good. Good.”

“Great, actually.”

Steve grins, using the hand still clasped around Eddie’s to tug him back against his side, chuckling as he falls into him with an oof.

He settles himself back against the headboard, content to have Eddie wrapped around him once again, more than happy to forget this conversation ever even happened.

“You’re not allowed to tell anyone about this, by the way,” Eddie pipes up a few moments later. “Ted doesn’t exactly know and it’s not-”

Steve cuts him off with a kiss to the forehead.

“Don’t worry,” he assures him, tugging him closer against his side. “I’m not exactly in a rush to talk about any of this ever again.”

also on ao3.

[garden-of-gay]

You're On Your Own Kid, Part 2

Part 1

So....remember how I said you guys would get comfort, well…..you do, y’all just get more hurt first. I’m sorry, I promise it is coming but a lot of things need to happen first so for now we get sad Steve. 

TW: Some use of homophobic slurs (it’s only once but I figure I still let y’all know)

TW: Implied child abuse (because you know, Steve’s parents suck)

Great Escape

It took quite a while for Steve to calm down and when he did, that is when the embarrassment came flooding in.

“Eds I’m so sorry, I-” Steve was abruptly cut off by Eddie’s voice.

“Sweetheart, why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He was using a tone that made Steve want to cry all over again, it was so soft and caring, in a way that he didn’t know how to process. 

“I– I, I’m not supposed to cry so…so I’m sorry” Steve said softly, but the moment it left his mouth he felt stupid.

“Stevie, who told you that you can’t cry” Eddie was baffled at how such a seemingly strong boy could help others when they stumbled but not offer himself the same courtesy. He also knew that the ones who had told him this had been his parents but still wanted to give Steve the chance to tell him on his own terms. 

“Darling, please, who told you this?” He said it one again, so kindly that Steve couldn’t understand why he was being so sweet to him.

“Why are you being so kind to me? Shouldn’t you be upset with me” Steve asked, fighting back tears once again.

“Babydoll, why would I not be? You deserve all the kindness in the world from me, darling” Eddie waited a moment listening before Steve began to softly speak and with a sadness in his voice that only sent another wave of sadness through Eddie’s already broken heart. 

“Well its just, my parents especially my dad said he can’t deal with criers and no son of his was going to be a sissy, faggot” 

Steve could remember the way his father would yell at him for the tears that would fall down his face as a child; could still envision the rage that would plague his face. Overtime, he learned to stifle his tears until he was alone, to avoid the wrath of his fathers words and fist. Even now knowing his parents weren’t home, because they never were, he would still hide in his closet to cry. 

Eddie began to speak breaking Steve from his thoughts

“I– I’m so sorry Stevie, you never deserved that, still don’t deserve that” He said with his voice breaking. 

“It’s okay, Eds I’m okay, promise” Steve said to not only Eddie but also to himself hoping that if he said it aloud he could make it true” 

Eddie knew it was a lie but decided not to push.

“Hey Eds, I'm tired, I'm going to turn in for the night”

“Yeah.... okay"

"hey, you know I see a great escape for you, I see you running away from the pain they caused you and never looking back. If anyone could do it it’s you” Steve loved the way Eddie had said it, it made it feel so real, that maybe he really could.

“Thanks, so long Daisy May” Steve joked

“Daisy May!? Who the hell is Daisy May?” Eddie asked incredulously

Steve chuckled before answering

“She’s a character that my grandma loved, she’s from a comic I think, I don’t know.” 

Although Steve was tired, he proceeded to speak with Eddie for another hour before finally falling asleep, causing Eddie to eventually hang up.

-

A couple days later he found himself talking to Robin about his conversation, leaving out the part where he cried over the phone; even though he knew that Robin wouldn’t judge him.

“And then we talked for like 4 hours, I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun talking to someone Rob! He’s just so ... .He is just so wonderful.” He said with a certain warmth inside 

“ Aughhh, just ask him out already, Dingus!! He likes you, and listen I love you but if I have to go another shift hearing you wax poetry about Eddie I might just have to hit you” Robin huffed before Steve said something that left her holding back laughter. 

“Okay, listen I thought about but then I found a flower and did the stupid petal picking things that people do and like I got he loves me not which destroyed the thought on the spot” 

“Steve, you’re going to trust a flower over your PLATONIC SOULMATE!!! I can’t believe this” she chuckled. They fought for a bit before getting back to work and finishing their shift off.

-

Steve had gotten home and had two hours to kill before he had to pick up Dustin and then go to Eddie’s for their movie night. He couldn’t stop thinking about his conversation he had last night with the older boy and found himself sitting in his room writing. Steve liked to write, he knew he wasn’t the best at it and had only shown Robin any of his writing but he liked to do it nonetheless. He took out his notebook and began to write, he did something he hadn’t done in a while, he began to write a song. He wasn’t as good as Eddie when it came to music but soon enough two hours had passed and he had made a pretty decent song and would have worked on it more if he had not seen the time and realized he needed to pick up Dustin.

"OH SHIT"

On the drive over he felt the bloom within him that always came from writing and was thinking about whether he should write in his room more often. 

-

He arrived at Dustin’s 15 minutes later to find him already outside.

“Hey Dusty-” Steve began, as Dustin climbed into his front seat he began to rant

“You’re 5 minutes late Steve and now I’m going to be late. Dude, what could you have been doing that made you late!”

“Listen here, shithead, I was busy and lost track of time okay!? Be grateful that I’m even driving your ass” Steve retorted

“Thank you” Dustin grumbled

“Good, now put your seatbelt on” 

“Okay mom” Dustin mumbled under his breath

“What was that? Steve asked

“Hmm nothing” Dustin replied refusing to look at Steve

“That’s what I thought” He said before putting the car in drive and beginning the short drive to the Wheeler’s house

-

After dropping Dustin off and saying hello to all the other brats, Steve found himself on his way to Eddie’s singing along to the songs on the radio. 5 minutes later he parked his Beemer in front of the Munsons government appointed trailer. It was bigger than their previous trailer however it was still much the same. He knocked on the door and heard Eddie moving around inside.

“Hey there Steve, glad you could make it”

“I know, sorry I’m late, I picked up Dustin a little late and then the brats proceeded to greet and mess with me before letting me leave”

“Ehh, don’t worry about it, I’m just teasing you, come in”

Eddie led him into the trailer and got comfortable on the couch before Steve followed suit. He made sure to put a respectable distance between himself and Eddie not wanting to sit too close to him and be weird.

“So... what are we watching?” Steve asked, Eddie chuckled

“Oh just you wait and see big boy”

He then pressed play on the movie and soon rolled the title screen that read Nightmare on Elm Street

“Come on Eds, HORROR!!” Steve exclaimed

“What's wrong Stevie you get scared easily?” He said teasingly

“No, I’ve just seen and experience enough horror in my life to want to watch movies about it” 

“Fair point, but that's what fun, it’s nothing like the real horrors we have seen. Plus if you do get scared you can just hold my hand” Eddie teased.

Steve hoped that he couldn’t see the blush appearing across his face in the dark of the trailer. 

“You wish Munson” Steve replied, teasingly

They watched the beginning portion of the movie, chatting here and there before Eddie had gotten up and went to the fridge. He called out to Steve.

“Do you want a beer, Steve?”

“Sure I’ll take one” Steve hoped that the alcohol would take the edge off and allow him to relax around Eddie because he felt like he wanted to explode everytime Eddie leaned into his space to say something. 

Eddie returned a moment later and handed a beer to Steve

“Thanks man”

“No problem”

Steve had noticed that when Eddie had sat back down he sat closer to Steve causing their thighs to touch, whether Eddie noticed or not Steve wasn’t going to complain. 

Eventually Steve found himself completely pressed to Eddie’s side, enjoying the warmth the the other brought; he hadn’t noticed Eddie’s hand on his shoulder until he began to trace hypnotizing patterns with his thumb. He quickly found himself unable to focus on the movie and only the way Eddie’s thumb would dip ever so slightly under the collar of his shirt grazing the skin underneath. The movie came to a close and Steve would not be able to recall the entire latter half of the movie. 

“So, what did you think?” Eddie asked

“Hmm? Oh it was good, kind freaky, reminds me a little bit to much of something we fought though” He replied

Eddie sighed “Well, it is not for everyone, especially those who have fought interdimensional monster several times”

Steve chuckled “I guess so?”

“Do you wanna hang for a bit longer?” Eddie asked sheepishly

Steve took a moment to silently celebrate in his mind before replying 

“Yeah, that sounds nice”

-

They went to Eddie’s room and were goofing off, talking, and overall being stupid. Steve particularly laughed when he found out that Eddie used to play concerts in parking lots before they ever booked an actual gig.

“No, no you don’t understand, haha, we seriously used to do that and one time Hopper busted us setting up and we all had to haul ass back to the van and lug all of our equipment back as fast as we could” Eddie chuckled

Steve loved the sound of Eddie’s laugh; it was like he lit up everything around him with his laughter making the world glow bright. Steve let it fill his mind and he decided to catalog that amongst the summer sprinkler splashed and warm Christmas fireplace ashes he told Eddie about.

“And, haha, and he pulled up to the van and asked us what we were doing at 10 o’clock at night on a Thursday and the only thing Gareth could think of was to shout that we were camping…in the van. Hopper just told us to scram and that he would let us off with a warning. It was the only time we have been saved by Gareth’s absurd answers under pressure” He recalled, laughing throughout the story causing Steve to laugh with him. 

They joked for a bit before Steve spoke up 

“Hey, Ed’s, thanks for last night I really needed it”

“I already told you it's no problem.” He replied

“I- I know but it still means a lot to me” It was gentle and sincere and the emotion seeped into his voice and for once he allowed it; Eddie gave him the chance to let his guard down.

“Anytime, Anytime” He lightly chuckled with a small smile.

“Did you know that once my parents had ordered me a taxi to a party they were at because they forgot to bring me along when they left” Steve laughed but he could hear the sadness in his voice

“Yeah, yeah, they remembered I existed and thought they needed to show me off so they sent a car to get me. I was I think 7, but hey I guess they thought that a 7 year old was old enough to get into a strangers car by themselves” He released a wet laugh and felt the tears beginning to flow. 

“Hell, once I got there. I searched the party, full of better parents than mine, because HEY at least they remembered their kids right!?” The tears were coming down hard, blurring his vision. It was at this point he felt a strong embrace as Eddie pulled him into his chest and held him. 

“They wanted to show me off and once another parent asked what I wanted to be I said a musician, my dad laughed it off and said that all kids wanted to be something crazy like that and it wasn’t rare.” He hiccupped and choked through sobs.

“That was the first time my parents had left me alone to go on a trip. My father told me you're on your own kid, don't do something stupid, we will be back in a week, see you then. The funny thing is they weren't back in a week because they had called to let me know they had other stuff to take care of and that they would send money. I felt so alone, I was so alone just as I always have been.”

Even now he still felt that horrible pang in his chest and remembers the pain he felt watching his mom close the door only telling him “goodbye Steven” before she too left him. He had long decided against stopping his tears. He was with Eddie, he was safe, he could cry, he didn’t need to hide not with him; not anymore. 

Eddie had stayed silent while Steve talked, just holding him and gently stroking his hair. Steve had fallen silent after a while and was currently just heaving heavy sobs in Eddie’s lap while Eddie whispered to him.

“I know darling, I know, you didn’t deserve that. I won’t let them ever do that to you again, I promise. I got you, I got you. Let it out doll”

Eddie found that even with his red splotchy tear streaked face, Steve was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and would do anything for him.

-

After a while Steve had relaxed a bit and spoke up 

“You know I gave my blood, sweat and tears for this; this life that they wanted me to have and yet they aren’t even here to see what I gave up for them. What I sacrificed to try and be a person they could be proud of. I gave everything for them and they could care less about it.”

Eddie had kept most of his thoughts to himself but could not help saying something.

“I’m proud of you Stevie, I’m proud of the person you are. You are kind and protective, and caring, and, and so loving to everyone. You will put yourself in harm's way if it means someone else is safe. You care so much about the kids and will watch and protect them no matter how annoying they may get. You are one of the most wonderful people I have ever met and my world is better now that I know you, the real you……Steve middle name Harrington, I am so proud of you because you try, no matter what. You’re parents were never deserving of you and the missed out on the greatest opportunity of their life to know you and I feel sorry for them because they are missing out on a pretty great thing”

Tears welled in Steve's eyes and he clung to Eddie as violent sobs rocked his body. He had waited so long to hear those words and hearing it from someone he loved, was in love with. It rocked him in a way he hadn’t seen coming. As he cried he felt Eddie hug him tighter. He felt safe, loved….. tired. So he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift knowing that Eddie would be there to catch him and ground him again. 

Part 3

Okay, so I did a mini deep dive into Daisy May and learned she was a character from the Lil’ Abner comic series from the 40’s and 50’s and was hopelessly in love with Lil’ Abner. Listen if that isn’t Eddie I don’t know what is. What’s the point of this? idk however, I found it interesting. Also so much of Eddie's speech is something I wish someone had told me and I legit had to stop writing because it had gotten to me. So much of how I write Steve and Eddie's dynamic is based on personal experience and things I wish I could have so I'm sorry if this is sad as hell. I'm using this as a way of putting positivity into the world not only for myself but for others. Anyways my little rant is over,there is one more part left where we get some good comfort and tender love for my boys.

Tag List:

@swimmingbirdrunningrock

@barking-at-the-m00n

@acasualcrossfade

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

Chapter II: Like A Lover, Not A Dancer

masterlist | playlist | chapter I

summary: Your album release show goes off without a hitch. For you, at least.

tags/warnings: rockstar!reader x rockstar!gn!afab!reader, mention of reader having boobs (feel free to skip that), slow burn, pining, angst, steve is impartial and the bestest best friend forever. mentions of blood/bruises/injury (non specific)

a/n: please don’t hate me i swore i’d make this one a Real slow burn but idk how imma do that without taunting us all. Please reblog to support the author!

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

Eddie’s POV

Pacing the length of his living room, Eddie talks aloud, mostly to himself, while his band mates sit along the couch, unsure how to help him out of his spiral.

“How am I supposed to mentally prepare for this? This is the biggest tour of our lives, and it’s with the one person capable of throwing me off my game. The one person that knows all of my weaknesses, everything that makes me tick. How am I supposed to be the person everyone thinks I am? They’re gonna see right through that shit.” He pivots to face his friends, and none of them can make eye contact. “Suggestions would be super appreciated right now!”

Gareth speaks then, timidly, “Ed, man, they probably feel the same way. You know all there is to know about Y/n. You’re both gonna go to extreme lengths to avoid each other just to realize neither of you have anything to worry about.”

“Yeah, my bet is you’ll be talkin’ like old friends within the first week.” Jeff chimes in. The two chuckle, until they see the expression on Eddie’s face. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, his eye twitching slightly as he attempts to keep his composure. “It’s true!” Jeff throws his hands above his head in surrender.

“Don’t get my hopes up like that, man. They broke up with me, ‘member? ‘Course ya do, I slept on your couch for a month when it happened.” His words wipe the smile from his friends’ faces. “I can’t walk around hoping and praying they’ll want anything to do with me. That can’t be who I am.” Eddie flops into the recliner across from them, defeated.

-

Your POV

You land in LA at 2:00PM, and are immediately rushed into a rental car, courtesy of Elektra Records. You’d been to California only once before, when you and Eddie had hit a restless phase and took a road trip to visit Will and El.

Now, though, instead of a big, dirty van, you’re in a sleek town car, on your way to The fucking Roxy to attend your band’s album release party. It feels like every sacrifice you’d made in the last two years finally makes sense! The planets have aligned, and you’re on the right path, or whatever the fuck. So why does your heart still hurt?

Robin grabs your hand, yanking you from your inner monologue. “We’re in LA, baby!” She’s hand in hand with Lilith, and Sylvie’s tucked into your left side. Steve pivots from the front seat to address you. “The party starts at ten tonight, be ready by seven. Call my room if you guys need anything, I’ll call when you have an hour left.”

You have to commend him, he’s got the mom thing down. “Yessir.” You all nod in unison, stifling the very laughter that kids would bite back after a mother’s lecture. But you appreciate him, there’s a reason you wanted him taking care of you. “Your performance is scheduled for ten thirty, we probably have fifteen, twenty minutes of leeway there though.”

Your smile is practically smacked from your face. “Our what?”

Steve looks up from his itinerary, matching your expression. “Did- did no one tell you?”

“I figured you told them!” Sylvie accuses, and Robin nods. You can perform on a whim, far over your stage fright after the hell you’d gone through. Performing has become cathartic, and you love a big audience. But Eddie was going to be in that crowd, and for some reason that scared the shit out of you.

“You’ll be fine! It’s not a full set, just three from the new album, bing bang boom you’re cutting a cake with your face on it.” He slaps his hands together to emphasize his point. As if on cue, the car pulls up to the hotel you’ll be staying at, and the doorman approaches to help with your bags.

-

You and Robin are sharing a room, spending the afternoon letting all your stress out as you prepare for the night.

“I just don’t get it!” You say for what feels like the hundredth time that day. “Why wouldn’t they tell us sooner?”

“My only theory,” Robin begins before blowing on her freshly painted nails, “Is that they know your history, and knew you’d try to back out if they told you. But how would they?”

They wouldn’t, you think, not to your knowledge. You never mention Hawkins, but you know Eddie does. Has he brought you up? You shake your head, shooing the thought away. “Whatever, nothing we can do now!” You pick a few clothing articles out of your suitcase, turning to Robin. “Which one?”

She smirks. “You know Eddie’s gonna be there, right?”

You shrug. “So?”

“So!” She catapults herself off the bed, taking the tight black dress between her fingers. “These will drive him fucking nuts! And I know you know that.”

You feign ignorance. Of course you’d thought about that, but why should it matter? “We’re broken up, Robin. This isn’t about him. Now which one am I gonna ruin tonight?” You hold each one up to you in the full length mirror. “The red one seems like a little too much,” You mumble, “But the black one is super nice on the melons.” You gesture to your chest, snickering.

It pulls a giggle out of Robin. “Definitely the black one, then.” She nods feverishly, and you mimic her movements, a grin stretching your mouth open.

-

Eddie’s POV

The joint burns in his fingers, dangerously close to singeing his hair before he snuffs it out in the ashtray. The California breeze is warm, inviting, but Eddie’s mood can’t be lifted even by the nice weather. He reluctantly returns from the patio, slamming the screen door behind him, causing Gareth to wince. “You alright, man?”

Eddie glares at his friend, who huffs a response. “You gotta get over it, Ed. Be professional, all that shit.” Gareth shrugs his jacket over a red and black flannel. “It’s not a big deal. You’re coworkers.”

“I guess,” Eddie sighs, pulling his boots on, tying the laces tightly. He swipes his hotel key from the bedside table, and follows Gareth to the elevator.

When he reaches the lobby, he stops dead in his tracks. Ten feet in front of him, behind his band mates, you stand with your own. You’re wearing a black dress with a denim jacket layered over it, and heavy black boots. Your hair falls to your shoulders, the color bright and impossible to miss. It takes all of his strength not to turn and run, but somehow he manages to stay put.

Jeff approaches him slowly, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’re good, man.” His voice is tired, and it’s only the first night of a very long three months ahead. Eddie nods, ripping his eyes from the back of your head. You don’t turn around, but the tensing of your shoulders tells him you know he’s behind you. He follows behind his bandmates, stalking out of the hotel room and into the car behind the one you enter.

-

Your POV

You can feel his eyes on you even after you get in the car. Sylvie puts a comforting hand on your shoulder as Robin grasps your free hand. You’re so grateful for your support system, you just wish you didn’t need it so much.

You zone out for the drive, trying your best not to think about the events lined up for tonight. More so, you’re trying not to think about how you’ll avoid Eddie all night. At your own party. That he’s attending.

Your legs start to bounce as the driver pulls around the back of The Roxy. The stage manager greets you at the door as Corroded Coffin pulls up behind you. You don’t dare glance over your shoulder, ignoring every urge to look at Eddie, and immediately let your guard down.

Instead, you part ways to your separate green rooms. Even though CC isn’t performing tonight, you assume they need the space to get away from rabid fans. It makes you slightly bitter, watching them get special treatment on a night that’s supposed to belong to you.

Lilith throws herself onto the couch in the corner. “So, I took the liberty of inspecting Eddie’s demeanor so you didn’t have to.” She taunts, crossing one stockinged leg over the other.

You pivot to face your drummer, a look of what you hope is confusion written on your face. “What?” She asks innocently. “You know I’m nosey! Anyway, he was doing everything in his power not to look at you. He caught me once.”

You chuckle. “Maybe he’ll think you’re into him and move on.” You turn back to the mirror, reapplying your blood red lipstick.

“Oh, shut up!” Lilith chucks a bottle cap at you, but it lands short. “I know you’re still into him.”

“I am not!” You really aren’t sure. You haven’t spoken in two years, mostly to make sure you didn’t give back in to him. You didn’t trust your own willpower.

“Five minutes, ladies!” A stagehand peeks her head through the doorway. You and Sylvie exchange an eye roll at her assumption. It doesn’t shake you, or even offend you, being called a lady, or a woman. You know it’s not meant as an insult, but if people would just listen to your music, it’s not that hard to understand.

The DJ set ends, and he plays Sonic Youth’s Kool Thing as your walk out music, and you relish in the way the lyrics resonate: Kool Thing sittin' with a kitty / Now you know you're sure lookin' pretty / Like a lover not a dancer / Superboy take a little chance here / I don't want to, I don't think so / I don't want to, I don't think so. You peek around the corner from backstage, into a crowd of teens and young adults, some wearing your shirts, most of them already sweating.

When the song ends, the house lights dim, and the crowd gets impossibly louder. Robin throws her bass over her head, and gives your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Ready to knock ‘em dead?”

You smile at her, and extend it to the rest of your band. The four of you huddle together.

“Okay, guys. This is it. How we do tonight is an indication of how the tour is gonna go. Now, WHO ARE WE?”

“DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!”

“I SAID, ‘WHO ARE WE?!’”

“DEATH DANCE APPROXIMATELY!”

You chant together, hyping yourselves up, building to an excited babble of voices overlapping. You grab your own guitar from a stagehand, and the four of you walk on to the stage to greet a screaming crowd.

-

Eddie’s POV

His eyes don’t leave you as you make your walk to your microphone. Your dress hugs every dip and curve of your body, leaving nothing to the imagination, not that Eddie has to imagine any of it. Your lips are dark, blood red, and your hair glows under the colorful lights. Your boots are thick, platform heels that lift you an extra three inches off the ground, giving the impression that you’d stomp out anyone that crosses you. Your skin is littered with tattoos, plenty more than the last time he saw you. They cover your arms and legs, heavy lines and bright colors. You look like an art piece, one Eddie could spend the rest of his life admiring.

He doesn’t recognize the song you open with, knowing it’s a new one off the album due to be released at midnight. Your voice hooks him in anyway; raspy, sounding angry, hurt, and like you’re singing right to him. Every fight you’d ever had with him, every night you’d wept in his arms, it’s all expelling from you on that stage, and he can’t help swimming in the pain it causes him.

Eddie gets it, the way a show can calm him in an instant, he can get every piece of aggression out of him without hurting anyone else. Watching you perform for the first time since breaking up is hypnotic, making his heart skip around erratically. He turns to the bartender. “Make it a double,” he calls over the music.

“What the fuck is up, LA?!” You scream when you finish your first song, and the crowd responds with shrieks. “We are Death Dance Approximately, and it’s lovely to meet you. Welcome to our album release show!” They scream again. “Please feel free to stick around until we unveil it. This is our first single, it came out last month. It’s called Pretty Boy.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. He never expected you to play the song again, let alone make it a single, but Pretty Boy had become such a staple song for both avid fans and casual listeners. Usually he can’t listen to it, but right now Eddie can’t bring himself to look away from you as you sing the song you wrote for him.

I hadn’t slept in several days, / I hadn’t been warm in weeks, / But after you had met my gaze, / I let my body breathe. / It felt less like a heart attack, / and more like coming home. / I let your body keep me warm, / so I don’t have to sleep alone. / Pretty boy, my heart is yours, / and I hope you’ll say the same, / Cause after all these lonely nights, / I just want to hear you say my name.

It’s crazy to hear the crowd sing with you, adding ambiance to your already angelic voice. Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat, and gulps his whiskey down to suffocate it. As you move into the third song, and Eddie’s about to call it a night, he’s approached by a group of what looks to be twenty somethings, girls about Dustin’s age now.

“Holy shit,” the short girl with spiky, purple hair squeaks, shouting over the music. “You’re Eddie Munson!” She covers her mouth, as if she’s spoken something forbidden.

Eddie scratches the back of his head and laughs. “Yeah, that’s me.” It’s a welcome distraction from the self torture of watching you.

“Would you sign my tits?!” a taller girl speaks, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders and her barely covered chest.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. It’s not the first time he’s been asked, but it never ceases to weird him out a little. “Uh, sure, got a marker?”

She hands Eddie a sharpie, and he signs her skin, leaning as far away from her as he can while doing so. They shout their thanks, and walk away squealing to each other. When he pivots back to the stage, you’re on your knees, singing right into the faces of the front row. What he’d do to have you that close to him again.

-

Your POV

You finish your third and final song of the night, leaving every ounce of your soul on the floor of The Roxy. When you’ve finished, you’re sweaty, smelly, and covered in glitter. Your makeup is smudged and running down your face, and your hair is tangled and sticking out every which way, but you’ve never felt better.

In the green room, Sylvie pops a bottle of celebratory champagne. “To our first sold out show!” You hold your glass up, and everyone clinks theirs together.

“Fucking awesome, you guys.” Steve praises, sipping his own bubbly. “I’m so proud of you guys.”

“Aw, you big sap.” Robin wraps an arm around his waist. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

You join the hug, and your bandmates follow. “Thank you, Steve.” You say, quietly enough that only he hears you.

“Any fuckin’ time.” He breaks the hug with some minor objections. “Feel free to relax before making an appearance.” He checks his watch. “Just be ready before midnight, you gotta be in there for the cover reveal.”

You feel your heart speed up. The cover. Shit.

-

December 1985

“Whoa, dude, lemme see!” Jonathan and Eddie are examining his wounded hand. Jonathan brings his camera to his face, pointing the lense at Eddie’s clenched fist. “I’ll definitely be sure to get you this pic, might make a sick album cover.”

-

Eddie never did, in fact, get a copy of that picture. You did, though, and you’d made it the album cover of your debut: Tighten Up. And now you had to unveil that album in front of the man whose hand is plastered on it. Fuck.

-

The Roxy is thumping with loud music, now playing Mind Riot from the overhead speakers as fans mingle with each other, drinks in hand. You walk to the long table set up in front of the stage, where plenty of DDA fans grip their tour posters, waiting for you to sign. You’re still not used to the sheer amount of people in front of you, all there because of your music, your words.

“Okay, everyone!” Steve grabs the mic and makes his “I’m In Charge” announcements. “The band will be doing some signings, and copies of the albums are available to purchase. Please, don’t take too much time, I know it’s all very exciting but we have a lot of people to get to. Patience is key! Now, I know Y/n wants to address you before revealing the cover, so lemme pass the mic.” He hands you the mic, and you take a step toward your audience.

“Hey, guys!” You greet, and they respond with their loud, disorganized whoops. “Thank you so much for coming out. We hope we see you again tomorrow for our show with the CORRODED COFFIN!” The name drop gets its own applause, and you’re satisfied with the taunting. “But right now, without further adieu,” You grab the sheet that covers the canvas holding a blown up picture of the album. “TIGHTEN UP IS OUT!” You shout, and yank the cloth. There, in all its glory, is Eddie’s bloodied hand, rings and all, with the album title plastered over it in your chicken scratch. The crowd screams, and you have no time to wonder what Eddie must be thinking right now.

-

Eddie’s POV

What the fuck. He’s not sure if he’s seeing it right. His own hand, clenched in a fist, covered in some jock’s blood, on the cover of your debut album. He catches Gareth’s eyes, and makes an “I don’t know” face, that Gareth only returns with confusion. Eddie isn’t sure how to feel. Will people recognize his rings? Are their fans that crazy?

Before his brain can stop him, he’s walking further into the crowd, towards you. He doesn’t know what he’ll say, if he’ll even say anything. Instead, he watches you for awhile, talking to your fans like they’re your closest friends as you scribble on their posters and CDs, and pose for pictures. You look comfortable, at peace, and there’s no way he’d want to ruin that. He takes a gulp of his new drink, feeling the effects of the alcohol in his bloodstream.

“Hey,” It’s Steve, with a beer in his hand. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t think it was my place. And to be fair, Y/n had no inkling you’d ever see it, especially like this.” He takes a sip, waiting for Eddie’s response.

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the clenching in his gut. “Nah, it’s cool. Really cool, actually. Didn’t know they still thought about me that much.”

Steve hands him a copy of the album. “See for yourself.”

Eddie grips the jewel case in his hands, and opens the album. The disc has the same picture printed on it, and the jacket unfolds to reveal the other picture taken that night, the one of his hand on your throat, covered with lyrics to songs titled Indiana, and Underneath Hell. He can make decent guesses as to what they’re about.

“Go say hi.” Steve shoves him a little, more playful than aggressive.

“Are you serious? I don’t wanna ruin their night.”

“You won’t,” He takes another swig, “I think it might make you both feel better. Cut the shit, get it over with. You’re gonna be stuck with each other all spring, might as well.”

Eddie downs the rest of his whiskey, letting the liquid burn his throat as the buzz takes over. Steve offers his hand, and Eddie gives him the glass. “Here goes nothin.’” He huffs, and disappears into the mob of fans. Many turn their heads, giving double takes when they realize who he is. He ignores the shouts to get his attention, not wanting to draw it away from you. Steve is only steps behind, guarding him from being grabbed at as he snakes to the front. Steve reaches the mic stand, and announces that the band is going to take a break, and to enjoy the refreshments. Eddie watches as you look from your manager, to your bandmates, and then to him.

-

Your POV

Eddie doesn’t look away when you meet his eyes. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and he’s chewing on his lip nervously. You look to Steve again. “What’s happening right now?”

“Would you just go say hi? Act like you know the guy a little.” He shoulders you, causing you to stumble slightly. “C’mon, the rest of you,” Steve addresses the band, “Go take a break, sit down, have some water.” Steve looks back over his shoulder, and waves Eddie over. “You two, go catch up in the green room or something. I’m not letting you both be fucking weird this entire tour. Mingle.” He’s being serious. He ushers you backstage, and finally separates himself to join your friends, leaving you alone with the only person you probably shouldn’t be alone with.

You crack open a beer and take a large gulp. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

-

chapter III

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills | send a message to be added🫶

[superbfics]

Yeah. So. Um. I can't see my phone very well cause I'm writing this through some pretty intense blubbering. Carol, you're just a fucking talented person my god. It's just heartbreaking and heartwarming in the same breath. You write just the amazing little one liners that can make a person laugh out loud and then just cut you to your core. I love how I know their world and their life in just a short glance into it. ALSO FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF FOR SETTING THE SMUT TO UNCHAINED MELODY IT'S MINE AND MY HUSBAND'S SONG AND I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU.

Anyways. I need more of them please 💛💛💛💛

'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

I should have fucking known from this I'd be an inconsolable blubbering baby by the end of this.

Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass.

I'll kill John Harrington with my bare hands I swear to fuck.

He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his.

So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed.

"Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed.

"You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle.

"I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best."

"Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush.

He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

“I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?”

I NEED them desperately. Like I said I need more of this story and this world and like them included holy fucking is my heart ACHING.

When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what.

‘It’s my grill.’ 

‘And? It’s my meat.’ 

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them.

**INTENSE SOBBING BREAK AND MOMENT OF SILENCE FOR THE FUCKING POWERFUL AND CAPTIVATING WRITING OF THE PTSD FLARE UP AND PANIC ATTACK AND COME DOWN. I COULD *SEE* THIS ENTIRE SCENE AND MY HEART WAS BEATING SO FAST**

“You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.”

“You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.”

“You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.”

“You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand.

I hate you Carol. I hate you so much for writing this fucking fic. How can I wanna reread something that's hurting me so much. How can you put shit like this in there and not expect me to fall in love with you?

The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch.

“You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance.

“Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

OPEN UP A LIL', HONEY?!

OPEN UP A LIL', HONEY?!

FUCK OOOOFFFFFF CAROL YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO PUT THAT IN THERE YOU-

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled. 

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion.

The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it.

‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

always something there to remind me (s.h.)

summary: ten years after the sealing of the upside-down, you and your fiance steve head to a cookout to unwind during memorial day weekend. with steve on edge after a rough half sleep full of night terrors, you hope the day can be salvaged by seeing the party and just relaxing, but a violent thunderstorm changes those plans for the worse. pairings: steve x reader, lumax, edancy. heavy on the steddie brotp tho.

tw: 18+ as always. this story deals with themes of mental illness and ptsd, it is only intended for mature audiences. descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, internal and external (please be advised they are dramatizations). partner violence (unintentional). drinking/smoking. discussions of mental illness. very moody steve but very soft steve. features some tense arguments. smut, like, very loving and passionate smut. this relationship is not perfect, it's also a depiction of a moment in time in 1997. the emotional load was very much a woman's job and i personally think steve would be 'too proud' to be 'too soft' about his stuff. so there are parts that seem kind of 'eh' but -- that's just how things were sorta. gif by @kingofscoops

His pill case sounded like a rattle when you took it from the medicine cabinet, taking it into the kitchen where he was shrugging on his freshly ironed polo. The ironing board and hot iron still set up by the counter. The black stone contrasted nicely against your cherry wood cabinets that he installed two summers ago. That was when you both thought he might be getting better: the night terrors were less and less frequent, the flashbacks far and few between, he was less tense, less irritable. Seeking you constantly for soft touches and kisses, any kind of affection he could pull from you he'd take willingly. Two years ago was your two year anniversary -- when he finally told you the real story. Why he had all those scars, why he can't sleep, why he wakes up in a cold sweat crying. Why you'd never been able to figure out which health care company was providing him with so much medication and therapy when he was working part time at the hospital -- it's because it was the FBI.

It was two years ago where they took you to an underground office where they told you everything. Steve sat next to you, gripping your hand so tightly you thought it might break. They reassured over and over that nothing was coming back, that everything was over, but that Steve and his friends will likely never recover emotionally and mentally from what they endured. Four years into things now, you were both his fiance and his nurse. You checked in monthly with his caseworking team, but in these last few months, they've had nothing but shaky reports. You wondered if maybe his mind just isn't as sharp as it used to be -- you both just entered your thirties, maybe things get knocked loose quicker when you've been to hell and back. "Here, honey," you say softly, putting his pill case on the table. He looks at them and sighs, amber eyes lingering on the 'Saturday' section of the pill box. "Let me get you some wa--" "You don't need to give me my pills every day," he says -- it's soft and sharp, "I know I have to take them. I've been takin' them for ten years."

You offer him a tight smile, "I know, Stevie..." You trail off. 'It's important that he feels in control of the situation, a lot of his role when he was in this situation was to protect others. Try not to baby him about it, he might be fragile, but he doesn't like to feel like he is.'

"It's just...I don't want a repeat of last year," you quietly remind him. He had gotten too sure of himself when he started to feel better -- missing days, stopping altogether, off and on.

He reaches for the pill case and pops open the Saturday square, tossing the main five pills into his palm and then into his mouth. Pain, anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, migraine, blood thinner. The heavy stuff sat in the cabinet above the fridge: Quaaludes, Oxycontin, Sumatriptan, Clozapine -- among others. Every day was a reminder to him that he didn't come out of this a stronger person. His dad let him know that at every visit, treating him like he had a son made of glass. "Don't," he says after he swallows, "Don't start with me."

Your eyes narrow in on the finger he puts up in warning and travels down to his big hand, a vein popping in his forearm and under the band of his watch. His bicep flexes against his polo, you follow it across the expanse of his chest and down the other arm, landing back on the pill case.

You knew last night what kind of day it would be this morning. Desperate reaches for you while he woke up from another nightmare, his damp chest up against yours while he hid his face in your neck. He hugs you so tightly to him so he doesn't float away, and you match his strength as best you can until he falls back asleep. Sometimes it takes hours of stroking his hair and soothing him before he feels safe enough to even close his eyes. In the years you've been together, he's been more and more embarrassed over these needier nights. 'It's just, baby -- I'm a man. I have to get over all this shit.'

"I'm not starting anyth--" "You are," he warns, eyes narrowing. He clenches his jaw, "Don't."

"M'sorry," you breath out. You take the pill case when he sets it back down and bring it back upstairs to the main bathroom. You refill the case before placing it back in the medicine cabinet with a sigh. When it closes you look at yourself in the mirror, no longer the fresh 26 year old he met at the hospital admin desk when he started his part time job as an assistant in the children's psych floor. Gaining hours towards getting his pediatric therapist licensure to help kids who were like him and his friends -- well, sort of. To some extent. You smooth over your button down dress, his favorite one in your closet -- navy blue with beige flowers littering the fabric. It flounces over you in dips and swoops, falling just under your knee. Another sigh and you grab your purse from the bedroom and slip on your sandals, clip clopping down the stairs where you hear him grab the keys. Another Saturday morning where the group gets together and just hangs out, even though Steve sees Eddie, Rob, and Dustin pretty often throughout the week. They've been doing it for years now, but the outside buzzed with the promise of summer, Memorial Day weekend making everyone feel more at ease. Everyone except Steve.

He slams the car door when he gets in the drivers seat, making you jump in the leather of his Lexus. He runs his hands over his jean clad thighs, having grown in size over the last six years with age and trips to the gym. 'I just wanna be in like, peak physical condition if anything tries to come back. I wanna be more ready than when I was a kid, y'know?' And while the muscle was certainly titilating, it made for a very wary you when things went left. "Don't be like that, Stevie," you say softly, your voice calm and gentle like it is with patients on the floor, "I promise I wasn't trying to get on your case. Do you -- I don't know, do you wanna just stay home?" "No," he snaps, looking ahead toward the road as he starts the car, "I didn't pack a cooler full of all the shit you made for this cook-out just the stay home." "Can you relax?" you ask a little harsher than you planned, "Are you even good to drive?" "I'm good. To drive," he says through gritted teeth, pulling down the street. "Are you sure? 'Cause -- Honey you -- you didn't sleep so good last night and I --" He hits the breaks hard, stopping short at a stop light turning to look at you, tilting his head a bit to glare at you down the slope of his straight nose.

"Drop it," he says, the tenseness in his voice sends a chill up your spine. "Stevie I'm not trying t --" "Drop. It." he warns again, "Don't make me raise my voice at you." "Don't talk to me like that," you say sharply while he pulls the car forward when the light turns green. "Then don't talk to me like I'm a fucking child," he snaps back. "Well maybe if you didn't have an attitude with me like one I wouldn't have to," you cross your arms over your seat belt and huff. He shakes his head slowly, tongue tight between his teeth. He thought he knew better than to fall in love with someone who had a tongue as sharp as his. "You're askin' for an argument when you say shit like that to me," he says lowly, the Lexus crunching over helicopter seeds while he navigates through the neighborhood. You see his shoulders rise and fall while he attempts to steady himself -- fuse lit and ready to blow. "I'm sorry," you follow up, a deep breath filling your chest. You uncross your arms to lean your elbow on the edge of the window, resting your cheek in your hand, "I didn't mean that." "You did," he responds, tight and frustrated, quiet. He hastily reaches into his back pocket with one hand, eyes still on the road. Steve pops a cigarette between his full lips and you sigh at the sound of the lighter flicking. “What’s wrong now, hm?” he asks while the cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, “What’s your problem?” “Nothing,” you say – it’s something. He takes a drag and blows the smoke out the open window, “It’s just that you bought that pack yesterday and it’s already half way gone. You always chain smoke when you –” “Give me a fucking break,” he snaps, voice raising with each word, “God, can you let me have fuckin’ anything?” “No Steve, I guess not. God forbid I look out for your heal–” you start sarcastically. “Look out for yourself, baby,” he says sharply into the rearview so you can see his glare, “I’m doin’ just fine without you on my back.” You bicker the rest of the way to Ed and Nancy’s house, he only raises his voice one more time. 

Eddie and Nancy's wedding was one for the ages, something about the mixture of straight laced and all over the place that made sense when they tied the knot. The pair, you were told, seemed unlikely until Eddie was in recovery after being removed from the Upside Down. He was down there for six months, tested on for another six. The Party and the older kids would visit him every day, keeping him updated and fed and hydrated. They'd cheer him on when he made advances in his mobility -- but for the most part he just needed rest. Nancy was working a lot, throwing herself into journalism like she always wanted, so she'd come to the hospital late. She wasn't really one for small talk so instead, she'd just read. She'd read aloud while he was asleep, her voice slow and calm -- stoic. Keeping him lulled like still water, she didn't even know if he knew she was there. One night, she picked up where she left off on the first installment of Lord of the Rings, continuing in her soft stoic voice. She watched him lay there with his eyes closed, breath steady, the beeps of the hospital machines in quiet rhythm with him. She at frist felt silly before she started, but maybe in his dreams he could hear her, and maybe just maybe if she does something fun, he won't have nightmares tonight. So she tries it...she puts on a silly voice for Samwise, and she continues with her silly voices. Gruff and manly for Aragorn, gleeful for Sam, some weird form of Scottish for Gimli. She bites her lip, smiling as she tries each one, shaking her curly head at her ridiculousness and stops. Then she hears it...the low rumbling giggle from Eddie in his hospital bed. "Keep going, it's funny..." he said with a grin, eyes still closed. "You can hear me?" she asked, trying to stifle her giggle. "I can hear you every night," he said, eyes peering open slightly, "It's the best." "Do you want me to keep reading?" she asked with a blush. He nods, a soft grin pulling up on his lips while he eyes closes again, "Only if you do the voices."

When you park in the driveway it's clear that the rest of the group arrived before you, their cars already Tetris'd into their places. Steve lugs the cooler out of the back seat with a grunt, hoisting it to rest on his broad shoulder. You roll your eyes at his machismo, like someone is watching him at all times and he has something to prove. You both walk to the back, the sounds of music and conversation and laughter bubbling louder and louder as you get to the gate of the yard.

A symphony of 'Heeeyyy!' and 'There he is!' and 'Finally!' come from the group as he opens the gate and you follow in toe. Eddie comes over quickly to help with the cooler, his hair still as long as it was when he was 20 – the only real updates being his five o’clock shadow and the ring in his nose. A few more weary tired lines by his eyes. His home made Iron Maiden muscle tee had a small sweat mark by the neckline – they must’ve been out here getting ready all morning. “Hey man,” he grins when the cooler gets set down, pulling Steve in for a tight hug. “Hey,” Steve smiles, patting his back hard, savoring the hold. “You alright?” Eddie asks when he lets go, putting a hand to his face, “You feeling okay?” Steve smiles tightly and nods but Eddie only half buys it, returning his look before turning to you. He comes forward, kissing both your cheeks with his full lips, scruff scratching at your skin, “Hi, sweetheart.” “Hi Ed,” you grin, watching everyone else come up to say their hellos. “Where’s Nance?” Steve asks, but his question is answered when she waddles out of the sliding door of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade. From the back, you’d have no idea she was seven months pregnant, but from the side – let’s just say, it was gonna be a real big boy. “Honey, what did I say?” Eddie calls out, walking over to her and taking the pitcher. “It’s not even heavy,” she chides back with an exasperated eye roll. You giggle at their bickering, listening to their sweet back and forth with a gentle ache in your chest. You wonder if Steve will be the same way when you’re pregnant. You wonder if the back and forths will sound so sweet, so innocent, so soft. Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the cooler opening, turning to look and grab what you can to put in the fridge inside. Steve takes the meat out to put by the grill and a few appetizers that you put together last nice. You take the icebox cake and chocolate covered strawberries, hurrying with them through the sliding door into the kitchen. “I know, mommy just thinks she can do it all,” Eddie coos, resting his hands on Nancy’s stomach while she slices cheeseburger toppings on the counter, “She just won’t rest, are you gonna be like that too? You gonna run me ragged? You gonna be just like mommy?” Nancy laughs and it’s half airy, half from deep in her belly, “Look, it’s just better if I’m active so that I’m not surprised by it when he’s born.” “I know,” he says, kissing her cheek, “I know. You still love me, Wheeler?” “Love you always,” she grins, blushing when she sees you come in with desserts, “Oh! Oh my goodness, let me help you!” “I got it!” you say, “Just hope there’s room in the fridge!” When everything’s loaded up you give each other a hug, watching as Eddie and Steve have a mildly stern conversation about who is grilling what. ‘It’s my grill.’  ‘And? It’s my meat.’ 

“Do you think they should just kiss?” you ask while you watch them. “Honestly, I feel like they need to at this point," she laughs, "Go on outside, I’ll be out in a few,” Nancy encourages and you make your way back out into the very early summer heat – mugginess starting to soak the air around you. Before you know it, you’re already being pulled over to the picnic table to watch a game of Magic the Gathering between Lucas, Max, Dustin, Mike, and Will. El doesn’t come back to Hawkins very much,so you’ve been told – she’s the only person from the group you haven’t met. “So is this like D&D?” you ask, resting your cheek against your palm while you lean on the table. “Yes and no,” Max explains, looking at her options, “It’s like…” “Like poker but D&D,” Dustin says, making Mike, Will, and Lucas snort. “I think that’s the easiest way to explain it to you,” Mike says. “I trust that,” you laugh with them. You’ve been consistently hopeless with trying to learn the mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons but still enjoy watching, loving it more when Steve decides to join a campaign. He lets loose in ways you’ve never seen when he does, smiling and laughing, free like a child in the summertime. The sun beating on your back suddenly disappears when you hear Steve come up behind you with a hand on your shoulder, “Can I have my glasses, honey?” “They’re in the glove box,” you say, turning around, “Why do you need them?” “Oh, is Erica making you read her thesis outline?” Lucas asks, “Just tell her to buzz off. She already passed it in.” “Sinclair – don’t be an asshole,” Steve gives him a look that can only be described as ‘bitchy’, “She wants some assurance. We need another psychologist in the family, and she’s obviously the only one smart enough to get it done.” “Rude,” Max deadpans, flicking her eyes up at him. “You’re rude, twerp,” he says back, he turns back to you after sucking his teeth, "My glasses?"

“I just said, in the glovebox,” you repeat, a little sharper than you meant to. He lets out a huff through his nose, looking at you like he can’t believe you’d get snippy with him before stomping off toward the gate of the yard. “Is he alright?” Dustin asks quietly, “I saw him on Thursday he just…I don’t know, he seems a little tense.” “He had a bad night,” you explain, toying at a splinter in the wood, “He’ll be okay.” The sun disappears again but not from the expanse of your fiance’s shoulders and chest, but from a thick cloud moving slowly across the sky. The relief from the heat is almost welcomed until you feel the humidity raise a bit in the air – a little too tight, a little too suffocating for your taste. 

The party is in full swing while Meredith Brooks’ ‘Bitch,’ blares from the boom box, Nancy and Max screaming the lyrics with abandon while the boys groan. You smile at how much fun they’re having, the afternoon going smoothly enough that you haven’t had time to notice how cloudy the sky had become. Your eyes linger on Steve, glasses on while looking at Erica’s thesis outline with her on the back porch. He had a pen in one hand and a cigarette in the other, the fifth one in the last hour and a half.  "You got something here," he says to her, tapping his pen while continues reading, "Your argument's really strong -- especially about the rates of homelessness, it's almost always trauma related." "Well -- I am me," she says. He raises his brows and nods in agreement. "Can't spell America without Erica," he teases. You watch him, how gentle he is and how he taps through outline, asking her questions about how she feels about the finished thesis, where she got it bound, if the articles he sent over were helpful. They speak in words you don't understand, but it's okay -- he looks calmer, brows softened while they talk, so encouraging. "I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint, I do not feel ashamed --"

Eddie's rasp pierces the groups singing and conversation as he belts the lyrics next to his wife. Everyone looks up to watch him go, laughing as he does. "We should cover this," he grins, "Me and the guys, we gotta cover this at the next show." "So you can get boo'd off the stage?" Mike laughs. "So I can make sure your ass doesn't get in the bar?" he asks back. Mike scowls while Dustin laughs at him -- it's always smarter to not try it with Eddie, he'd always get you back ten fold. With a jolt, you feel something cold hit your hand, looking down to see a water drop splat against your skin. Then another, and another, and another. After the fourth or fifth, the rain starts to come down -- and then it starts to pour. "Alright!" Nancy calls, "Everyone grab something and head inside." The Party rises, wincing as the rain pellets down on them while everyone grabs a foil tray or covered Pyrex filled with food. You follow suit, hurrying inside with the undressed cheeseburgers and buns, laying them safe on the counter in the kitchen. Everyone else starts to file in, Steve and Eddie turning off the grill while the sky starts to darken significantly. The first rumble of thunder sends everyone's face to a flat line -- you wished Robin wasn't spending the weekend in New York City so that you'd have someone on the front lines with you and Nancy to keep everyone at ease. Nancy and Robin definitely had their moments but had a much tighter grasp on the world around them now.

A few flashes of lightening crack followed by deep rumbles of thunder. Boom, crack! Boom, crack, crack! You notice everyone resettle themselves around the kitchen table -- jittery, quiet. You sit down across from Steve while he looks down, following the woodgrain with his finger. You keep your gaze on his chest, watching for a tell -- he swallows the frustration he feels from having your eyes on him. "It's alright guys, just a storm," Nancy reminds everyone gently while she brings in the last of the food from outside. Eddie gets her seated before opening things back on the counter, the kitchen smelling like barbecue while he opens the foils. The conversations start around you again while you sit across from Steve, the tension sitting like a weighted stone in your chest. Another flash of lightning and that's when you notice it, the twitch of his hand. The thunder rumbles and he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger under his glasses. Shit. "You okay, honey?" you ask him softly. He swallows, jaw clenching, "Mhm." "Okay," you nod, trying not to bring attention to it just yet, just incase it passes. The thunder booms again and he lets out a breath through his nose, he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes more agressively. You tap your foot under the table and he can hear it, he can hear everything in the room -- the scrapes of foil on foil. The separate conversations. Eddie's laugh while he talks to Nancy. The clinks of silverware. Ice in cups. The drumming of fingers. Your tap. Tap. Tap. Tapping. Under the fucking table could you just stop tapping your fucking foot -- The next crack of lightening is so intense it shakes the house and everyone gets quiet. 'Just a storm', Nancy reminds, but her voice sounds far away. Thunder rumbles again in the distance and he swears when the lightening flashes through the windows it's red. He rubs his eyes again, a short burst of breath coming through his nose. 'Honey?' he hears you but its like he has cotton in his ears. The thunder rumbles again, the slick squelching of vines starts to creep into the sound of it. Another crack of lighting and the lights in the kitchen flicker. But when they turn back on Steve isn't with the group anymore. He's not even in the kitchen. He's back at the Creel House. 'Baby? Steve?' your voice is distant -- does Vecna have you? Did he find you? Is he taking you away from him? Steve whimpers, getting out of the chair, pulling at the roots of his light brown locks -- desperate to pull himself out of the memory, "Help, please..."

"I'm here, Steve," you say rounding the table while the rest of the group stands back, getting ready to help. Max grabs a boom box and Lucas runs to his car to grab his tapes with everyone's favorite songs on it -- just in case. Dustin approaches him slowly, hands out in front of him while Steve shrinks to the floor, back against the cabinets. "Steve, it's me, it's Dustin," he says calmly and slowly, "You're in Eddie's kitchen, Steve." But Steve only hears Dustin saying his name -- Dustin must be in trouble. "I'm coming," Steve says, eyes shut tight, falling further away. You watch as sweat grows on his hair line and neck, muttering a fuck under you breath. This was gonna be a bad one. "Honey, honey," you continue, kneeling down in front of him to ease his hands off of his hair, "You're okay, you're safe. I'm with you." 'Honey.' He hears your voice in the distance, searching for you in the blue black haze of the Upside Down, the thick particles of dust in his eyes. The slither of vines covers the walls and the floors while he ascends the stairs -- where are Nancy and Robin? Weren't they with him? "Nance?" You watch him call out for Nancy and she goes to get up but Eddie puts his hand delicately on her shoulder. He shakes his head no at her, "Just talk to him," he says to her. 'I'm here, Steve, it's okay!' 'It's okay!' But it's not Nancy's voice, it gets more an more deep, more gravelly, more like him. Steve flinches in front of you, soft 'no, no, no's slipping from his mouth. 'Stevie...' Where are you? Does he have you? 'S̷T̴E̶V̴I̷E̵.'

The sound of Vecna's voice booms in his ears, the thunder rumbling, the red lighting flashing to light up the house. You were never here -- Vecna tricked him. He breathes hard, looking around while the vines snake around, searching for him. "Okay, okay baby," you say hurriedly, watching him while he starts to hyperventilate. You raise your voice to get through to him, "Honey you gotta take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you hear me?" Max and Lucas come back, smacking the tape into the radio and fastforwarding until Marc Cohn's Walking In Memphis crackles through the speakers. They both heave breaths while the song plays, leaning over the table to settle down from running. "You hear the song, honey?" you ask, "Can you hear it? Talk to me, Steve." You reach your hands up, sliding slowly up his chest to rest your hands by his jaw in a soothing touch. But for Steve in the Creel House, the vines have found him, slithering up his chest and around his neck, tighter and tighter against the wall. He tenses, big hands coming up and grabbing your wrists with a grip so tight you whimper. "No, shit, shit, shit! Fuck! STOP! NO! I CAN'T!" he panics, gasping for breath while his nails dig into your forearms and drag painfully downward why he tries to pull you away. "Ow, ow baby, hey, you're hurting me," you yelp out. He doesn't stop, eyes switching from tightly closed to open and unfocused while he reaches up to your biceps, clawing at them in defense. You reach out a final time. "Honey, honey, please, it's me," you say, tears balancing on your lower lashes while he rises, taking you with him. He handles you real rough, grabbing you by the shoulders and throwing you to the ground with a loud thud. And god does it hurt.

"HEY!" Eddie's voice booms out, gruff and loud like the rumbles of thunder outside. He gets behind Steve, pulling his arms close to his chest while Steve struggles against him. Erica and Mike hurry toward you to help you slowly up off the floor. You reel at first, wanting to run back to him. "Stay in front of her Wheeler," Ed warns, "You all stay right there." You stand behind Mike with Erica who takes your hand tightly in hers. You feel the pulse of pain in your arms when you look down -- gouges and deep scrapes, the blood shines in the line of the kitchen. You shake your head out of it and watch on as Eddie and Dustin do what they can to help -- the song continues to play in the background. "No, no," Steve whimpers, twisting his wrists in Eddie's grasp to break free, but in this state Eddie is stronger. He pulls him close, Steve back to his chest while they sink back down against the cabinets. "Shh," Eddie soothes, still holding him tight, "We got you, just listen -- you're in my kitchen. You hear the song playing?" Steve grunts, thrashing while Eddie hugs him tighter to him. "Steve, listen, listen to the song," Dustin says, "Focus on me and Eddie's voice, listen." Steve struggles, less intense than before, "Shh, shh, it's okay Harrington," Eddie soothes, rocking him slowly back and forth. "They need me," Steve cries weakly, breaths slowing while he pulls again at Eddie's hold, "Gotta save 'em..." "Steve," Dustin says again, getting closer. He rubs his shoulder slowly, pressing his thumb into the joint, "We're safe, all the kids are safe." "Safe..." he repeats back. Eddie sighs a little in apprehensive relief, letting go of one wrist to run a hand over his head, turning Steve's face into his chest and holding him close. "That's right, Steve," Eddie says softly, "Safe." 'Saw the ghost of Elvis, on Union Avenue, Followed him up to the Gates of Graceland And they watched him walk right through...' Steve can hear the lyrics, warbled and tinny in the Upside Down. 'Safe, safe, safe.' Echoing through the walls -- it gets dimmer. 'Now security they did not see him, They just hovered round his tomb...' Dimmer and dimmer. 'Almost over buddy, I can tell, we're right here. You feel Henderson?' A soft warm rub on his shoulder, the lyrics to the song, Eddie's voice. The sound of vines fade away, he hears the rain, it fades to black. "Walkin' in Memphis..." Steve whispers, half confused, while his eyes open and focus -- squinting in the light of the kitchen. Overwhelmed he looks around while the room tilts on it's axis. He grips Eddie's leg tightly to steady himself, he's breaths picking up again. "It's okay buddy, it's just us," Eddie says again, "You with me?" Steve nods, face cracking while he lets out a broken sob. You can only watch while Eddie flicks his eyes up at you in another warning to not come closer yet. Dustin let's go while Eddie starts to hoist him up, wrapping Steve's arm around his shoulder while he helps him to the guest room down the hall. "C'mon big boy," he says gently, "Let's get you some rest."

Things feel a little quiet after Eddie comes back from the guest room, he's tense -- no longer having fun the way he was before. His eyes are dark while he heads outside into the rain to have a cigarette. Lucas turns off the stereo and The Party sits back down at the kitchen table for a moment to decompress. They silently take out of the Magic the Gathering cards and start to set up again, Erica joins them seamlessly. When things seems a semblance of stable, Nancy gets up and takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom, "Let's check you out, alright?"

You sit on the toilet seat cover while Nancy takes out a first aid kit from under the sink. You listen while she hums the climax of Whitney's 'I Have Nothing' quietly, searching the medicine cabinet for some Bactine for your cuts.

"Are you okay?" she asks, taking both of your hands to outstretch your arms, she turns them to see the damage -- she tries to hide her face of disappointment but it's clear.

"I'll be fine," you say softly while she wipes down the gouges and scrapes, "I can take care of it Nance."

"No, you just -- just let me," she says softly. The Bactine stings -- so does the way she looks at you -- pitifully. You hear Eddie's boots clomp down the hallway before he shows up at the door frame of the bathroom.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he asks -- you wish people would stop asking. They only ask when they see him lose control. You do this all the time, you take care of him all the time.

"I'm okay," you repeat, "A little banged up, but y'know. It's okay."

"Does he do that alot?" Eddie asks, his jaw clenching, "Does he hurt you a lot?"

"This is one of maybe...I don't know -- four times he's gotten physical with me during an episode," you explain, "And you all know about them."

"Does he hurt you when he's here?" Eddie asks, tapping at his temple.

"No, Ed, don't be ridiculous," you sigh, exasperated that he'd even ask.

"Steve's not like that, Eddie," Nancy says, "We've been over this." "Well, here's the thing Nance," he starts, tense, "We're ten years out of this shit and no matter how bad my shit got I've never put a hand on you like that. Ever." "Eddie --" "No, no, listen," he says, "I don't like that, and I especially don't like that happening in my house in front of my pregnant wife." "And what would you like me to do about it, Ed?" you snap, "I can't -- fuck -- I can't fucking fix him for you." "I'm not asking you to fix him," he says back, a pain deep in his chest coming through with his voice, "I'm asking you to be sure that you still want to be a part of this -- your wedding's what -- October? You really wanna be worrying about this?" "For better or for worse, right?" you ask back, choking on the lump in your throat, "That's the promise." Eddie tucks his lips in, his own eyes getting teary while he scans the gouges that Nancy carefully puts bandaids over. "Ice your hip and shoulder for the first couple days," he mutters, biting the edge of his them, "After a fall like that. Then heat." You nod, quietly murmuring a thank you. "S'what my mom used to do," he says under his breath. Eddie scans you slowly one more time, swallowing hard before pushing off the door frame and walking back down the hall. You hear their bedroom door click closed in the distance. "You know how he gets," Nancy says, "Stuff like that y'know -- that's hard for him." "I know." She takes a washcloth, running it under cold water before squeezing it out. Droplets fall on the fabric of her light purple maternity shirt, leaving dark people marks on the top of her belly. She hands it to you. "Here, for his head," she says softly, "In case he's not all the way back yet."

You creep slowly into the guest room, seeing him laying on his stomach with half his face buried in the pillow. His sculpted arms tucked under it to give him something to hold. "Baby?" you ask quietly, "You awake?" He nods with his eyes closed and you look him over -- big hulking man who needs to be held. He hates it but you can't help but love him for knowing he needs it. You put the wet face cloth on the side table, sliding down next to him while he moves over to his side. In one swift motion you've replaced the pillow -- arms wrapping tight around your waist and up your back, one hand molding over your shoulder. He hides his face in your neck and you can feel his tears on his lashes and cheeks. His shoulders shake while he cries for a while, cold sweat damp on his shirt and the back of his neck. You never check how long he cries for – as long as he does. “I’m here,” you say softly, nails grazing his scalp in a steady swipe, “I’m right here.” You adjust a bit in his hold and you feel his grip tighten slightly, a soft whine of desperation leaking from his throat. “Don’t go, please,” he begs softly. “M’not going anywhere big guy,” you soothe, “This wedding’s already put us ten grand in the hole. Where would I even go, now?” You hear a soft ‘tsss’ come out of him, a tug of a smile against the skin of your neck where he hides. 

“Oh, is that funny?” you joke, still coasting your fingers through his hair. He groans, letting his arms let go of you so he can sit up, you can see the tension in his body still. Steve looks down at you with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, beckoning you forward with his fingers. You sit up for your thank you kiss, his warm palm cupping your cheek while he holds you gently in place. He kisses once slowly, then twice, three times – holding the last so you know he means it. When you break away he rests his forehead against yours, offering a few shallow breaths. You stand up off the bed while he sits off the edge of it, standing between his thighs. 

"Did I hurt you?" he asks softly. He asks after every episode ever since he did hurt you back when you first started dating. A swift smack to the arm that stung for a solid twenty minutes afterward with the amount of power he put into it. It welted. He cried for hours. He wrote you love letters every day for a week. 

You nod, showing him the scratches and bandages on your arms, "I think you thought I was a vine or something. You threw me. Like, to the ground. It was pretty hard."

His lower lip quivers, "No, no, no." “No, Steve,” you assure, trying to calm him, “It’s okay, you didn’t know. It’s alright, I’m alright. It was an accident.” 

His face contorts while the tears start again, his big hands reach out to your waist, pulling you close to him, "It's not okay, it's not alright."

His voice raises an octave while he cries, "I'm sorry, baby."

"It's okay, Stevie, shh," you whisper to him, he pulls you in tighter, body shaking while pressing his nose against your cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he cries, sniffling, "You know I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't," you say back, your own cry getting caught in your throat. He sniffles again, leaning back to face you, both of his hands cupping your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing the apples.

"I love you," he says with a depth and intensity that makes the lump in your throat give way. You cry with him and it breaks his heart, "I love you so much honey, you know I’d never…"

You nod, trying to calm your cry the way he was able to calm his -- so used to swallowing it up even though you'd beg him not to.

"I – shit – I have to tell you something," he says softly, hands sliding from your cheeks back down to your waist and then your hips. He looks down at the small triangle of mattress between you and the apex of his thighs.

"What's up, Steve?" you ask, running your hands through his hair again soothingly, "What is it?"

He lifts his head up, eyes shutting at the comforting touch, but when he opens them he looks defeated -- guilty, "I haven't been taking my meds at night. I was -- was flushin’ them cause I just -- baby, I don't know. I can't keep depending on this shit."

"Steve."

"I know," he nods, "I know...That's why -- that's why my shit's getting worse."

"You're not just taking this stuff to take it," you say, cupping his cheeks, "It's to keep you here. It's to keep you with me."

"I know," he repeats, voice cracking again, "I'll call my shrink tomorrow I promise. I'll get back on track. Fuck -- I'm sorry -- and I'm -- I'm sorry I was so mean to you this morning."

"It's okay," you nod, pressing a kiss to his forehead. You drop your hands and rub his shoulder, "I think we should go home, alright? We can get on the couch for the night and just rest."

"Okay," he says quietly, nodding. He slowly gets up off the bed, a little dizzy, using you for support. You both slowly walk out of the bedroom, Nancy peeking around the end of the hall.

"Everything good?" she asks.

You smile at her, "Yeah, I think we're gonna head home."

She smiles tightly, heading into the kitchen where the rest of the group still sits, eating and talking. Their heads turn when you both come into view -- soft eyes and smiles.

"I'm okay, guys," Steve nods, barely able to meet their gazes, "It's fine."

Nancy approaches you with a few tupperwares filled with food and dessert, "We'll get the cooler back to you on Tuesday."

"Don't worry about it," you smile, gathering the tupperware in your arms. You watch as the group gets up one by one to give Steve a hug goodbye. Their movements are slow and controlled, warning touches on his shoulders beforehand to remind him ‘It’s just me, it’s just my arms, I’m hugging you’. Soft mumbled words of support, nothing too loud – don’t startle each other. Wraiths of the friendship they all shared earlier. Rehearsed reactions to all of their sensitive needs – if you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen all of theirs. And you had, once or twice. “I’ll get a copy bound for you,” Erica says while she hugs him. “You make me so proud, Sinclair,” he smiles. Nancy walks you both to the door and you turn, “How’s Ed?” “He’ll call later,” she nods, a look behind her eyes that matches yours. You hug goodbye, share quick reminders about food for the baby shower and a few crafty decoration plans before heading to the car with a very tired Steve. The rain patters on the hood of the Lexus while you both sit in the leather interior, this time with you in the driver's seat. He rubs at his temples with his eyes closed while you rifle through your purse for a sandwich baggie of emergency migraine medicine. “Here,” you say, handing him the pill, “Before it starts to get bad.” “Hmm,” he grumbles in agreement, popping it in his dry mouth to suck it down.  “We’ll be home soon, okay?” you say, hand coming down on his thigh reassuringly, “Just close your eyes for now.” 

He takes the tupperwares when you get out of the car, fishing his keys out of his back pocket while he does. His strides are long while you hurry up behind him, following him into the house only to bump into his back while he’s stopped by the thermostat to turn on the air. “Sorry,” you say softly. “S’okay,” he replies back, barely above a whisper. He puts the food in the fridge while you head upstairs to start a shower, a ritual you’ve both come to learn well after days or nights like these. You take out the good soap, the shower oil, all the aroma therapy you can to get him to ease up. Anyone else watching you get things ready would assume it was about to be a very sexy time for you. On the same coin, these showers are probably the most intimate moments you have with each other. He comes in as the room starts to steam and you help him ease off his polo, you start on the buttons of your dress while he takes off his jeans and socks. He helps with your bra, both of you shedding your underwear at the same time before you step in. Steve soothes almost instantly, his muscles relaxing under the hot stream, sighing further while he gets soaped up. You don’t have to be in there with him, but you do. He needs you so close so he doesn’t float away. His favorite part comes near the end, sitting in the flow of the shower together while you wash his hair. His eyes flutter closed while your nails scratch and massage him – he swears his hair is even thicker than it was before with all the blood flow you encourage. You wash his hair twice, then deep condition, holding him to your chest while you wait the five minutes it takes to settle in. He leaves soft kisses on your collar bone, on all the marks he left on you in Nance and Eddie's kitchen. He holds your hand, so you can’t float away. You both end up on the couch afterward, the leather groaning beneath you both while you lay across the deep seat cushions, you lay on your back, he lays on his side against you. The heat of his bare chest warms you through your oversized sleep shirt. His soft sweat pants tangle up with your bare legs. You let whatever’s on TV play – reruns you guess, you’re thinking about too many other things. “How’s your head, baby?” you ask while his eyes shut, leaning on your shoulder. “S’fine, better,” he says, he lifts your hand and kisses your fingers before placing both his and your hand on your chest over your heart. The ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dum lulling him to sleep. You half watch TV for however long until your own eyelids get heavy. You click off the TV and opt to turn the stereo on low, just so he doesn’t get lost while he sleeps.

You wake up to oldies, music your parents would listen to on records in the living room growing up – songs that came out a few years before you were born. Oldies. It's dark outside but you can still hear the rain. Steve’s already awake, just watching you while his hand smooths back and forth over your sternum. “You snored,” he says. “Good,” you reply quietly. You both snort out breathy laughs, feeling the warmth of his lips as they smoosh against your cheek. “How you feeling?” he asks, hand coming up to rest on your cheek, sliding down the side of your neck. “A little banged up,” you say, “Might bruise.” “M’sorry,” he says again, a tinge of guilty pink tinging his ears. “It’s okay,” you repeat for what feels like the thousandth time in the past six hours. “You looked really pretty today,” Steve says gently, almost sheepish, “I should’ve told you.” “You looked really handsome,” you say back, “But you were kind of being an asshole so I didn’t want to tell you.” “You should’ve told me, it probably would’ve cured my PTSD,” he says seriously but sarcastically, “Could’ve saved the entire afternoon if you just said how good I looked. Prob’ly wouldn’t have had an episode.” “You’re such an ass,” you laugh, smiling. He leans in to kiss you and it’s the kind that makes you too weak to stand. That kiss got him a second date, it proved that they said about old King Steve in highschool. On the stereo, Sherry Baby bleeds into Unchained Melody.

His hand reaches up under your neck to tilt you up toward him, tasting your tongue with his, guiding you with his kiss, “Angel…” he murmurs. He breathes through his nose while he keeps his lips pressed to yours, desperate to stay here in this moment, attached to you. “Steve,” you say softly, breaking away, “Stevie…” “Please,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose slowly, “Please.” “Lemme take care of you.” “I…” your thoughts trail off while he kisses your neck, sucking and nibbling gently at the spot just by the hinge of your jaw. He waits for your soft sigh, the tilt of your hips towards him – your allowance. He grins when he hears the air pass your lips, the realignment of your spine beneath him while he settles between your squishy thighs. His hands travel south, pushing up the hem of your big t-shirt to your waist, holding you there for a moment while his kiss takes over your mouth again. He tugs your cotton panties down, breaking the kiss while he sits up on the couch to slide them off your ankles. Steve looks down at you with an expression that makes your breath catch in your chest, serious – with supple lips, needy eyes. He leads himself back down again, big hands sliding down the sides of your thighs over your hips to your waist again. Instinctively, your legs spring up to wrap around him while his hips align with yours, feeling his strained cock in his sweats against you. “Jesus…” he whispers again, eyes fluttering closed. He buries his face in your neck while you rock slowly against him, the pressure and friction against the underside of his erection sending low volts through his body. “Mm-mm,” he grunts, shaking his head ‘no’ while mumbling, “It’s supposed to be about you.” “Well stop dangling it in front of me then,” you giggle quietly, he giggles too. The smile sends you reeling, his pretty teeth, the way his nose scrunches. He leans forward again to kiss, he just can’t stop kissing, can’t stop tasting your lips, feeling you against him. Steve’s hand reaches down to pull himself out of his sweats, pushing the waistband to the tops of his thighs while he uses the other to push one thigh out off the couch. “You ready f’me?” he asks huskily, tip dragging slowly from the pool of slick at your opening up in between your folds. He lets his thumb run in slow circles over your clit while he waits for your answer, your slow nod while you lean your head back on the arm rest gives him the okay. He eases himself in slow, the tip pushing past your opening with some resistance. “Open up a lil’, honey,” he mumbles quietly while he guides the tip in again, “Open up for me.”

Your little gasps float out of you and into the fuzzy part of his brain, gliding down his spine. You angle your hips upward, one thigh up against the couch cushions and the other dangling over the edge, spread as wide as you can. He holds himself above you with one arm, the other aiding in pushing himself further in, the tip finally breaching your core. He keeps guiding, slow back and forths while you ease open for him – taking him in, inch by inch. “Oh yes, mhm,” he groans to himself softly, “Thass–hmm-that’s it, angel.” He let’s go when he’s three fourths in, crowding over you, forearms on each side of your head while he strokes slowly to start – getting you used to him, accommodating his size. “That’s good?” he breathes. “Ye-yeah,” you breathe back to him. His mouth latches to yours again, feeling him guide your hands up beside your head, lacing fingers while he presses you deeper into the couch cushions. He keeps his strokes slow and deliberate, feeling every ridge of you inside, how you suck him in and hug him tight in place – but how he feels isn’t nearly as important. It’s the way your brows contort, the way you bite your lip, your whines into his mouth while he kisses you. Each slow thrust makes you coat him in a new flow of slickness. “C’mere,” he says into your jawline, letting go of one hand to sneak behind you at the waist, pulling you flush to him. The new angle makes you let out a whine while he hits a spot deep inside you, he grunts at the reaction, the feeling of you taking him in. His pace picks up the smallest tick, face centimeters from yours – your noses brush, lips barely touching while his amber eyes keep steady on yours. You let out short huffs, little whimpers every time the head of his cock pushes deeper with every roll of your hips. “S’nice, hm?” he asks, brows slanting, softening. “Mhm,” you squeak back, “S-so good, honey.” Your legs pull in again, socked heels resting on the top of his butt while he sighs at the change in pressure. “Thassperfect, god,” he hisses out, head dropping down to your chest, pressing sloppy kisses above your breasts while he gathers himself. He groans into your neck while wet warmth tightens over him, soft velvet walls coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. 

Steve’s shoulders flex while he balances on his forearms above you again, your forgotten hand taken by his, fingers interlocked. His face inches from yours while he looks at you, the way your eyes flutter, the soft parting of your lips, the high pitched  ‘Uhn, uhn, uhn, uhn,’s coming out of them — you’re so beautiful.

“So pretty,” he says to you, huffing a breath into a smile, “So pretty, baby.” 

You kiss him a thank you. You see him swallow when he breaks away, his eyes getting glassy. 

“S’gonna be okay,” he assures, nodding down at you, nose to nose, “We’re gonna be okay.” Slow thrusts  between statements. 

“Gonna get married,” he says, a groan flowing right down into your mouth while he kisses you, “Gonna be just like Ed and Nance, right?” 

You nod while his thrusts get more passionate, deeper.

“Yeah? That’s nice?” he asks, “Marry you? Take you just like this after the wedding?” 

“Yeah,” you gasp back, “Yes, Stevie.” 

“Give you a baby?” he asks in a low whisper into your skin, lips pressing against your cheek, his strong nose dragging against your cheek bone, “Give you so many babies. You want that?” 

“I want that,” you nod, face pinching while you feel yourself building up and up in a slow churn. 

“You want that?” he asks again, coming back to hover over you — tears in his eyes, “You want that with me?” 

You nod to each other while he embraces you in an old movie kiss, wrapping himself around you, pressing him to his chest while his thrusts get purposeful, controlled. 

“I love you,” he pants into your ear, “I’m yours, m’all yours.”

“I love you, too,” you rasp back, free’d fingers interlocking in his hair. He gets leverage on his knees, the leather of the couch squeaking under him while he repositions. Soft smacks of skin between you echo in the living room against the backdrop of the low stereo.   “Oh my god, Steve,” you moan out, “You’re – oh god you’re so deep.” “So deep, angel, Christ–” he huffs, trying to make a mental note of this position so he can remember it for October – really make it stick. His thought process stifled when your nails drag down his back, making his passionate thrusts quicken – a signature cocky smirk flick across his lips. “Mmm, that feels good honey?” he asks – he knows the answer. Your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, tears glazing over your eyes while he feels you pulse over him. Thank god the couch was leather. Watching you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm he works you toward the second with ease, chasing his pleasure with each soaking thrust into you – so nice like this, so pliant – his little ragdoll. When he cums it’s deliberate, spilling inside you with your eyes on each other. You give one another breathless kisses, bodies interlocked, sticking to the couch in new found exhaustion. The phone rings. Neither of you get up to answer it. ‘BEEP. You’ve reached the Harrington residence – Did you forget my last name isn’t Harr– If you’re calling before October 1997 then it’s not just the Harrington residence yet but – whatever you know what I mean. Leave a message, we might call ya back.’

“Hey Harrington it’s Munson, um, just making sure you’re okay, man. Sorry I disappeared for a little bit there. Love you, call me back when you can. Bye.” 

thanks for reading. <3

[munson-blurbs]

I love the perv!Eddie and bestfriend!reader

And have a suggestion

What if Eddie got jealous of one of readers friends and they have arguments (angsty stuff) but in the end Eddie accidentally reveals his feelings and the ending is up to you.

I know this suggestion is a little different from the fics that u write so if u don't want to do this it's ok!

Looking forward for the next fic❤️

For you and @eddiejosephluv <3 hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: language, angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, Eddie is an idiot

WC: 3.5k

--

The Hawkins High gym is buzzing with anticipation for the championship basketball game. You're sitting next to your friend Steve Harrington, who came back to his old stomping grounds to support Lucas Sinclair. Sinclair had been riding the bench the whole season, but Steve was always there to cheer him on. Plus, he got to make fun of Robin for her ridiculous band outfit, so it was a win-win.

On the bleachers to the other side of Steve are Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler, eating some sugary snack and discussing Eddie Munson's latest sadistic D&D campaign.

Speaking of Eddie...

You spot him trudging into the gym just as the game is starting and wave him over. He shuffles over with a grateful smile.

"Thanks for saving me a seat," he says, plopping down next to you. "Had to finish clearing out the drama room alone because I was ditched!" He shoots a glare over at the two freshmen who are obliviously chatting away.

"Poor thing," you pout with mock sympathy. "How ever did you survive?"

Eddie gives you a playful shove, knees knocking into yours, but he doesn't pull back. And you don't want him to.

Thirty minutes into the game, the gym is now stifling. Too many bodies, too much cheering, and you realize your water bottle is empty as you try to take a swig.

"I'm out of water," you mutter, contorting your face into the cutest angry expression Eddie's ever seen.

"Here, take mine," Steve offers his half-full bottle, which you accept.

"How do I know you don't have cooties?" you tease.

As you banter back and forth with Steve, you don't notice Eddie's face fall. Drinking from the same bottle as Steve Harrington? It seems so innocent, but he has a feeling that you wouldn't dare share germs with Mike or Dustin.

C'mon, dude, get out of your head, he wills himself, but he can't shake off the concern that you might like Steve, the way that Eddie likes you.

~

The game ends with Lucas scoring the game-winning point. You scream so loudly you worry that you've damaged your vocal chords. Even Eddie temporarily pulls himself out of his funk to cheer for one of his little sheep.

After congratulating Hawkins' newest star basketball player, you make your way to the parking lot with the rest of the group.

"Y/N, how are you getting home?" Steve asks you, car keys in hand.

"Uh, I think Eddie was gonna drive me," you reply.

Steve jerks a thumb towards his car. "I have to drive near your place to drop Robin off, if you want a lift. Save Munson the trouble of going out of his way."

"Oh, um," you stammer. You certainly don't want to put Eddie out, but you really want to spend more time with him. You look at his face for a clue for what you should do, but he just looks away. Guess that answers that question. "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks."

At this, Eddie's head snaps up, but he bites back a response. Okay, she definitely likes Harrington, he thinks, watching you saunter off towards the BMW.

"Hello? Earth to Eddie?" he hears Dustin say. "Come in, Eddie..."

"What?" he barks, and Dustin flinches. "Sorry, just...never mind."

"Is Eddie sad because his little girlfriend ditched him for King Steve?" Mike taunts in a sing-song voice. He and Dustin burst into laughter.

"She's not my girlfriend," he mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Mike looks at him knowingly. "But you are jealous that she's hanging out with Steve."

"Yeah, man, I don't know!" Eddie rubs his face in frustration. "I thought maybe she was into me, but now she's sharing water bottles and getting rides home with him so, I guess not. I guess The Freak is left in the dust, again."

"Well, did you offer her water?" Dustin questions.

"No, but--"

"And did you say anything when Steve said it would be 'trouble' for you to drive her home?" he continues.

"No, Henderson, I didn't." Like the kid wasn't three feet away when it all happened.

"Okay, so what have you done to show her that you're into her?" Mike pipes up.

"Nothing! I've done nothing!" Eddie shouts in exasperation. "I don't even know what to do!"

"You could ask her to the prom," suggests Dustin, "y'know, assuming you're graduating this year."

Eddie considers this. He wasn't planning on going to the prom, but he'd overheard you talking to Robin about hair and makeup and dresses, which meant that you wanted to go. He could take you; assuming Steve didn't ask you first.

"Yeah, okay," he nods. "I'll ask her next week."

~

Next week comes and goes without Eddie asking you. In fact, three weeks go by without a mention of the prom. You want to go with him, and at this point, you might as well just ask him yourself.

Before you can do that, Lucas plops down at the cafeteria table. He splits his time between the basketball team and Hellfire, but he's been sitting with you more since the season ended.

"Y/N!" he says with a huge grin on his face. "Guess what?"

"You're being drafted for the NBA?" you joke, dipping a french fry in ketchup.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," he rolls his eyes. "No, you know Zach Harper?"

"He's on the basketball team with you, right?"

"Yup! And he wants to take you to prom," Lucas announces. "Told me that he's been checking you out since you started coming to our games."

You glance over at the jock table. Zach meets your gaze and gives a small wave, and you wave back with a giggle. He's cute, muscular, and one of the smarter guys on the team. Your eyes flicker over to Eddie, seemingly engrossed in the ham sandwich he's packed for lunch today. He doesn't appear too concerned about the prospect of you going to prom with someone else, so you shouldn't be either, right?

"Should I go talk to him?" you ask Lucas. Your question is answered when Zach makes his way towards you.

"Hey, Y/N," he says softly. "I was wondering...would you like to go to the prom with me? I thought I should ask our good-luck charm."

You smile at the compliment. "I'm your good-luck charm?" you ask incredulously.

"Well, I mean, we hadn't even made it to the championship game in years. And then you come to the games this season and we win the whole thing?" He shrugs his broad shoulders. "I don't know; doesn't seem like a coincidence to me."

"Then it would be a bad omen for me to turn you down, huh?" you flirt. "Sure, I'll go with you."

Eddie stands abruptly and bolts out of the cafeteria, shaking the table with the force of his movement. Dustin chases after him.

"Uh, Y/N?" Mike says slowly. "Why did you accept Zach's invite if you're going to prom with Eddie?"

You give him a confused look. "Because I'm...not going with Eddie?"

"You turned him down?"

"He never asked," you tell him. "I was thinking about asking him, but then Zach asked me. Besides," you add, "prom is not Eddie's thing." You pause. "Wait, why did you think I was going to prom with Eddie?"

Mike chews on his lower lip, contemplating his response before deciding to go with the truth. "After the championship game," he starts, "Eddie told me and Dustin that he was gonna ask you. I just assumed he did."

"Well, he didn't," you huff, "so I guess he changed his mind."

"Maybe you should go talk to him," Lucas says. "I would've told Zach that you weren't interested if I knew..."

"It's okay," you reassure him. "I'll go find Eddie."

~

You find him in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette down to the filter. He tosses it aside and immediately lights up another one. Dustin is learning up against the van with him, but heads inside when he sees you walk over.

"Eds? You okay?"

Silence.

"Can you just talk to me about why you're upset?"

"You're a smart girl, Y/N," he sneers, "you can figure it out."

You sigh. "Look, if you don't want me to go to prom with Zach, just let me know."

He takes the cigarette from his mouth and flicks the ashes to the pavement. "I don't care who you go to prom with. Seems like you've got a lot of guys wrapped around your little finger, though." He glances up at the sky. "Let's see, Steve Harrington, Zach Harper, and let's not forget about your adventures with that guy from the newspaper club last year..."

Your eyes narrow and a burning anger sets in your stomach. "What are you implying, Eddie?"

"Nothin'," he responds with fake innocence. "Just that you're getting a lot of attention from guys lately."

"Because..." you trail off, choking back tears. "it sounds like you're calling me a slut, or something."

"Your words not mine, sweetheart."

Rage floods through your whole body and you clench your fists. "Fuck you, Eddie," you spit. "I'm supposed to sit around waiting for you to never ask me to prom? Maybe you could try not being a pussy for five fucking seconds. Did you consider that?" But you don't wait for a response, turning on your heel and leaving him speechless.

~

Two weeks later, you haven't spoken to Eddie. In all fairness, he hasn't tried to talk to you; in fact, you've both been going out of your way to avoid each other. You’d stopped sitting at the Hellfire table during lunch, opting instead to hang out with Zach and his friends. You two had been getting closer; not exactly dating, but definitely more than friends. Zach slung an arm around you while he and his buddies discussed their college plans, whether they would continue playing ball, and the fraternities they wanted to join. It was halfway through the lunch period when you realized that no one had asked you about your plans.

“I’m, um, studying psychology at Northwestern,” you cut in shyly, purposely omitting the fact that you’d gotten a scholarship. You didn’t want to seem cocky.

Zach presses his lips to your ear. “Let me catch up with the guys, okay?” he whispers. You nod, embarrassed.

Ryan, one of Zach’s buddies, pipes up from across the table. “Harper, you tell Y/N about prom yet?”

You wrinkle your brows in confusion. “What about prom?”

“Oh, uh,” Zach glares at Ryan, “I think we’re gonna ditch. Heard that they’re cracking down on people sneaking in booze. It’s gonna suck.”

“But I already got my dress,” you supply lamely, disappointment creeping through you. “I really wanted to go.”

“It’s just a stupid dance. Ryan’s parents have a lake house, and we’ll throw a killer party there.”

“Okay,” you falter, sinking into yourself as they resume their previous conversation.

Meanwhile, from across the cafeteria, Eddie’s eyes are glued to you.

“Dude, what even happened when you talked to her?” Mike pries. “She won’t even look at us anymore!”

Dustin turns to Mike. “He told her that he was jealous because he has feelings for her and wanted to take her to the prom, and he apologized for being an asshole. Right?” He groans when Eddie doesn’t respond. “Eddie, what did you do?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Eddie mumbles.

“C’mon,” Lucas says, “we gotta assess the damage.”

Eddie laughs thickly. “Oh, it’s pretty fuckin’ bad, Sinclair,” he admits, “I, uh, may have implied that she sleeps around.”

The freshmen throw their arms up in exasperation, clamoring about what an idiot their Dungeon Master is.

“I know, I know!” Eddie laments. “I’m not good with feelings.”

“So instead of working on that, you decide to tell the girl of your dreams that she’s a whore. Nice.” Dustin retorts, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eddie sighs. “D’ya think I can fix this?” he asks quietly.

“I mean, clearly not on your own,” Mike replies, “but maybe we can help. I’ve needed more advice about El than a guy should. Probably should give back to the universe or something.”

~

Lucas puts the first part of the plan into action, running up to you at your locker at the end of the day.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says breathlessly, “could you babysit Erica tonight? My parents have some last-minute plans, and I promised Dustin we’d go to the library and study together.”

“Oh,” you muse. “Yeah, sure.”

“Cool,” he offers you a smile, “6:00? I know Erica would love to talk about your plans for prom.”

You can’t help it; your face falls and you will your tears to stay in your eyes. “I’m not going to prom,” you tell him softly. “Zach said the teachers are making sure no one’s drinking, so he doesn’t wanna go anymore.”

Lucas tries to hide his excitement, feigning sadness. “That’s, um, rough. I gotta go.” 

Weird, you think, but those kids have always been a little strange, so you don’t read into it.

Lucas makes a beeline for Eddie’s locker, where he’s anxiously awaiting your response.

“Eddie!” the boy practically screams, “she’s not going to prom!” He fills him in on his latest discovery. “So you can still ask her!”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Eddie asks. “She kinda hates my guts right now.”

“All part of the plan, my friend,” Lucas says, clapping a hand on Eddie’s back.

~

You show up to the Sinclair’s house at 5:45 and ring the doorbell. Lucas opens the door.

“I thought you were at the library,” you say suspiciously. 

“I lied,” he responds plainly, pulling you through the door.

“Seems like a silly thing to lie ab--” you start, but the rest of your words get caught in your throat when you see Eddie sitting on the living room sofa. “Oh, no way.” You turn back around to leave.

“Please,” Eddie calls out, standing up quickly to stop you, “please, can we talk?”

“I think you’ve said enough,” you huff, recalling the way he spoke to you a few weeks back. “I’ve had a really shitty day, and you’re the last person I want to see.”

The words sting him more than he anticipates; he wants to be the person you seek out when things get tough.

“I’m just gonna...” Lucas trails off and darts upstairs, leaving you two alone. Dammit, Sinclair. 

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” Eddie says, “I never should have made you feel bad for guys noticing you. Of course they do; you’re beautiful and smart and the nicest person I know.”

You cross your arms over your chest, still unimpressed. “Flattery won’t get you very far. You really hurt my feelings, Eddie.”

“I know,” he murmurs, glancing at the ground. “I’m not good with expressing how I feel, but that’s not a reason to treat you like I did. I should’ve just been honest with you from the beginning.”

“So,” you say, “be honest with me now. Do you really think I’m a slut?”

“No!” he says so forcefully it’s practically a yell, and he pulls back. “No, not at all. I think...” he sighs. “D’you remember when you joined Hellfire your sophomore year, my first senior year?”

“Mhm.” Where is he going with this?

“And Jason Carver took my lunch, smashed it on the ground, and told me to clean it up like the janitor I was destined to be?”

Of course you remember, thinking back to the humiliated look on Eddie’s face as Jason crushed the pretzels beneath his feet. “Yeah.”

“And you told him to fuck off and go stick his dick in a hornet’s nest,” he says with a small laugh. “And then you helped me pick up my food, and you split your own lunch with me.”

“Well, yeah. I wasn’t about to let you starve,” you mumble. “And I still think that Carver should sustain trauma to his genitals.”

“Agreed,” Eddie says with a nod. “But that moment? When we had only known each other for a few weeks, and you were so sweet when you easily could’ve laughed at me like everyone else...that’s the moment I fell for you.”

“Fell for me?” you echo, shocked.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, fidgeting with his rings. “I’ve liked you since that day, and it’s only gotten worse since then.” He clears his throat. “And that’s not an excuse for being a jealous moron. I’ve had every chance to ask you out, but I never did. I just...stupidly...expected you to wait around for me to work up the nerve.”

His sincerity slowly chips away at your anger, though you’re not ready to forgive him yet. “Eddie,” you take a deep breath. “I’ve liked you for a really long time, too. But when you flirted with cheerleaders or bragged about your post-gig hookups, I didn’t treat you like shit,” you say pointedly. “I bitched about it to Robin and Nancy, or I wrote about it in my journal, or I screamed into a pillow. I didn’t make you feel bad.” You let tears slip down your cheeks. “You made me feel really, really bad.”

“How can I make it up to you? Earn back your trust?” he asks, repeating the words Dustin told him to say.

You pick at an invisible speck of dust on your pants. “The apology was a good start.”

“Sinclair told me that, um, you’re not going to prom anymore?” he blurts out. “Something about that jockstrap bailing?”

“Word travels fast around Hellfire,” you remark.

“Could I take you?” he asks quietly. “We could go as friends. No pressure; I just wanna make sure you get to go.”

You consider his proposal. Prom with Eddie Munson was something you’d wanted for ages, but were you ready to trust him again?

“I dunno,” you say.

“Let’s make it tentative,” he suggests. “We can try hanging out again, work through all this. And we can plan to go to the prom. And if you change your mind at any point, you can pull the plug on it.” He sticks out his hand. “Deal?”

You shake it, offering a smile. “Deal.”

~

After a few weeks of movie nights, finals study sessions, and the occasional coffee shop date, prom arrives. You break the news to Zach that you won’t be attending his lake house rager, and neither of you are too disappointed.

Now, you’re sitting in Nancy’s bedroom as she swipes red lipstick over your lips. Your hair is teased slightly, giving it some volume. You wear a long black off-the-shoulder dress. You borrowed a necklace from Nancy, a thin chain with a small diamond in the center. 

You feel beautiful.

“Girls!” Mrs. Wheeler calls from downstairs, “your dates are here!”

Jonathan and Nancy are going together, and Robin had asked Steve to accompany her until she and Vickie could sneak off. She’ll have to pick up some of his Family Video shifts, but it’ll be worth it.

You carefully walk down the stairs in your heels. Your eyes meet Eddie’s immediately, a huge grin forming on his face.

“Wow,” he draws in a breath, “you’re stunning.” He takes a corsage out of the chilled plastic case, slipping it over your wrist. You pin his boutinneire to his jacket.

“You look so handsome,” you tell him, and it’s the truth. His hair is pulled back into a soft bun at the nape of his neck. He’s wearing fitted black pants and suit jacket, a dark gray button-down shirt underneath. His guitar pick necklace hangs around his neck. With all of the courage you can muster, you press a kiss to his cheek.

After Mrs. Wheeler takes enough pictures to fill several albums, the six of you are off to the prom. The gym is decorated with streamers, balloons, and flowers. It’s still the gym, but there’s a special magic in the air. Vickie joins the group, and all of you take to the makeshift dance floor.

You pause when the first slow song blares over the speakers, unsure if Eddie will want to dance so intimately with you. Before you can move, he grabs your hand.

“Can I have this dance?” he asks shyly, and you nod.

“Of course.”

You loop your arms around his neck; he snakes his around your waist, hands resting on your lower back. 

“Since we’re being honest with each other,” he whispers teasingly, “then I have to tell you that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh. “You’re so full of it, Munson.”

He shakes his head, a lock of hair slipping from the bun. “No, I’m completely serious. I hope I remember this night forever.” He hesitates only briefly before pulling you closer, leaning in, and kissing you gently.

His lips part yours as you melt into him, smiling and kissing him at the same time. He deepens the kiss when he realizes that you’re reciprocating his feelings, hands pressing harder against you. He moves one to your face, holding your cheek and softly caressing it with his thumb.

And while the future is filled with unknowns, neither of you worry about that. For now, it’s you and Eddie, and that’s all that matters.

--

[kingkatsuki]

Eddie calling you in the middle of the night because he’s just had a nightmare and he’s afraid of sleeping alone.

Eddie being insecure about his body because of the scars left on his body from fighting in the upside down.

Talking him down from sudden panic attacks in the middle of the day. Being literally the only person who can bring him back to reality when he feels like he’s losing his mind.

Omg🥺 imagine the phone ringing in your house at like 2am and you’re rushing to pick it up without waking up anyone from the sound. Whispering a soft “hello” as Eddie talks to you on the other side, like you can just hear how terrified he sounds through his voice. Profusely apologising for waking you up, and telling you he tried to go back to sleep but he couldn’t, that he just needed to hear your voice. And he can’t stay in bed and call you so he’s literally just sat on the floor of his kitchen, trembling as he holds the phone to his ear. Telling you to just say anything, to talk to him, because it’s like your voice is this insane fucking superpower that just puts him at ease.

And maybe his nightmares have evolved now too— no longer thinking about Chrissy’s face as she died, instead it’s the exact same nightmare but it’s you. Every single night he sleeps alone Eddie is terrified of falling asleep because he knows he’ll have to watch you “die” again, and he can’t take it. Calling you with shaky hands as he hears the dial tone before it begins to ring, waiting with baited breath to hear you answer because he needs to make sure that you’re still alive, that you’re okay.

He hates waking you up at this time too, scoffs down the phone as he tells you he’s “still Eddie the coward, hey?” As you hear him sniff back tears, taking a deep breath as his voice softens, “I just don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.” And you’re already wishing you were there, scooping him into your arms so he can rest his head on your chest. Stroking your fingers through his curly hair, matted from how much he’s tossed and turned during the night as you try to coax him back to sleep. Eddie sleeps better with you around, the nightmares aren’t so prevalent, so vivid.

And these dreams don’t help with his insecurities because he’s already terrified of losing you as it is, and he’s never understood why someone like you would ever want to be with him. So now he has scars that remind him of that fateful night in The Upsidedown he’s even more certain that you won’t want him anymore, that he’s broken. Looking at himself in the mirror after a shower, or just getting changed and he sees the scars that mar his porcelain skin, marks that you’ve barely even seen too. The first time you had sex since that day he kept his shirt on and the covers up around your bodies, even though the warm September heat was stifling. Your hands moving down his chest to cling to him, to hold him close but his palms wrapped around your wrists. Holding them above your head as he pinned you to the bed, a pleading, whispered “don’t” spilling from his lips as he tried to hold back the shame— if you saw those you definitely wouldn’t want him anymore. Who could ever want such a broken man?

But you’re the only person that can put him back together in time, adjusting to the new parts of your relationship. Instantly seeing the signs that he’s on the verge of another panic attack, dropping everything to focus on him as you try to get him to copy your breathing, taking his hand in your own as you squeeze tightly. Giving him some semblance of reality. It’s an adjustment in your relationship, the man that left The Upsidedown not quite the same one that went in, but you’re certain you’ll get him back— these moments won’t haunt him forever, soon they’ll be distant memories replaced with new, happier ones. But until then you’ll be here for him every step of the way.

Eddie can’t work out why you’d ever want such a disaster like him, but he’s so fucking glad that you do. Because there’s no one else he’d ever want besides you💕

[hellfireslut]

Little Lamb - part 1

paring : eddie munson x fem!shy!reader

word count : 1.7k

characters : eddie munson, dustin henderson, mike wheeler, hellfire club members

warnings : mainly just fluff, eddie taking the reader under his wing, mention of jason carver

summary : requested by @hford0311 | Y/N is the new girl at Hawkins High. Eddie notices her shy demeanor, and takes her in as one of his sheeps.

October 3rd, 1986, Hawkins Highschool, 12:45 pm

Voices of freshmen to seniors roamed the halls of Hawkins Highschool, both good and bad ones, and some didn’t speak at all. The autumn air, crisp and cold wafted through the windows lined across the hallway. A new month meant new ideas or goals Eddie thought he should try, one of them being arriving to class on time. When the warning bell rang, Eddie shut his locker, haphazardly shoving pens, pencils, and other academic utensils into his bag, gunning for his physics class. At the same time, Y/N was making her way to physics as well, though she was never late to any of her classes. Rushing through the halls, her converse squeaking with every trot, she made it to the doorway, at the same time as Eddie. The two bumped shoulders, trying to squeeze through the narrow walkway. The bell had rang, causing a weary groan from Y/N, and a stifled laugh from Eddie. Eddie backed out of the doorway, letting her walk in before himself, letting a smile escape from his rough demeanor. Y/N look at him with a perplexing expression, one where Eddie couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Y/N began walking to her seat, making Eddie realize he had never seen her before, her seat was conveniently located to the left of his. When Eddie sat down at his desk, Y/N looked over at him, then looking away as the pair made eye contact.

“Alright, listen up class. Looks like we have a new student joining us, from New York. Is Y/N here?” Mr. Thompson began looking around the room for the newly arrived pupil. The class began to speak in hushed language, looking around, trying to notice someone who wasn’t there before. Y/N didn’t speak, hoping she could make it through the class without having to do the typical icebreaker introductions and questions. More students had finally realized the new arrival, looking toward her, waiting for her to introduce herself. The feeling of laser eyes burning into the back of her head described the lingering eyes of her peers. She finally stood up from her desk, walking towards the front of the classroom. Eddie’s eyes followed her every move, the way her laces clicked on the marble floor, and the way the ribbons in her hair swayed with her ponytail.

Y/N tugged at the hem of her sweater, in an effort to fix her outfit.

“Uhm, Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, and I’m from Richmond, New York.”

“Well Y/N, it’s a pleasure to have you in my class, you may take a seat now.”

She nodded her head, swiftly walking down the aisle of desks, back to her own. More eyes, which felt like they had doubled, watched as she sat down, immediately putting her face in the palm of her hands. She let out an aspirating sigh, turning to look to her right, in Eddie’s direction.

“Why are you staring at me?” She said bluntly.

“Oh uhm, me? I wasn’t staring, I was just looking around.” He flashed the same toothy smile from earlier, this time in an effort to convince, and not to flirt.

“You were staring, you did the same thing when I went up to introduce myself.” Y/N sat up, facing the shaggy haired boy, inching toward the edge of her desk.

Eddie leaned back into a man spread, confused at what angle she was playing, and he knew she wanted him to slip up with his words.

“Alright Y/N, and if I was staring, is that such a crime? A new pretty girl is something you rarely see in Hawkins, and I was trying to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me.”

Y/N’s face grew to a ruby rouge, looking down at her desk, then back into his brown orbs. A greedy smirk painted across Eddie’s mouth, watching as she became flustered by his comments.

“What’s your name?”

“Eddie, Eddie Munson.”

“Is that short for, Edward?”

“Yeah, but my uncle only calls me that when he’s mad.”

Y/N snorted, covering her mouth as Eddie’s eyes widened at the noise.

“So, considering you’re new and all, I assume you haven’t made any friends yet?”

“You’d be right that. Just stares and scoffs from everyone in the hallways.”

“How about I introduce you to my friends, at lunch?”

“Oh you don’t have to invite me, plus I’m not good at talking to people I don’t know.” Eddie noticed her fidgeting with the bracelet on her wrist. Deep down he wanted her to accept his invite, but Eddie knew what it was like - more than anymore to be judged by your peers. Y/N hanging out with the Eddie’s friends could tarnish her new reputation. Thoughts of reputation demolition didn’t cross Y/N’s mind, only the thought of having a new friend and someone to talk to.

“Forget I said anything, I don’t want to pressure you.”

“No no, you know what? I’d love to meet your friends. If there as friendly as you are, then I don’t see why not.” Y/N rhythmically tapped on her desk, excited to finally get to know the other students of Hawkins High.

October 3rd, 1986, Hawkins Highschool, 1:22 pm

The cafeteria of Hawkins High was one out of a movie. Cliques divided by tables, conversations held among each table, and arguments across each table. JV and Varsity jocks, along with cheerleaders, sat in the middle of the cafeteria. One of them, a tall and muscular boy with blonde hair, had been arguing with Eddie as she walked it. The word “freak”, filled with spite was directed to Eddie, he laughed it off. Y/N made her way to the lunch line, trying to decipher the options on the menu, when two metal clad hands covered her eyes, icy to the touch. She spun around, concerned and confused at the action, she was met with the long haired metalhead, grinning from East to West. Y/N playful hit him on the chest, Eddie placing his hand over his heart with theatrics.

“So, how were your other classes? Any ones you like so far?”

“Nope, only physics. It was the only class I could stay awake in, thanks to your heavy boots tapping every three seconds.”

Eddie laughed, pushing his tray towards hers. “Well you’re welcome, now are you ready to enter Hell?” Eddie’s hand dramatically pointed over to the table where the members of the Hellfire club sat. Y/N rolled her eyes, giggling at his humor. She hadn’t seen it during their physics class, maybe due to the dim lighting of the classroom, but the cafeteria was brightly lit. Eddie Munson was handsome, extremely handsome.

Eddie waved his hand over her face, snapping her back into reality. “I said, are you ready to enter Hell?”

Y/N looked up from his lips, now to his eyes. “I’ve never been more ready in my life.”

Eddie placed his hand on her shoulder, guiding her through the windows of students, his grip tightening when they walked past the jocks table. He stopped in front of the Hellfire clubs’ table. The group was mid conversation, the only words Y/N could make out were “campaign” and “Vecna”, when Eddie cleared his throat in an exaggerated manor, causing the table to abrupt into silence. The group looked as if Y/N was another girl they’d seen before, their faces having little to no emotion. The turned towards the table once again, continuing their conversation like they weren’t even there.

“Eddie, I don’t think your friends are too fond of me, maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No, they’re just a bunch of little ASSHOLES!”

The group let silent again, this time with terror across their faces.

“Eddie, if this is another ploy to recruit cheerleaders for our group, you’ve picked the girl the most out of league this time.” the curly-headed young boy spoke.

Eddie squinted his eyes toward the young boy. “Y/N isn’t a cheerleader Henderson, she’s new, and we have physics together.”

Y/N, smiled from behind Eddie, waving to everyone. Y/N didn’t now much about Eddie or his friends, she’d only heard someone call him a freak, without the reasoning behind the statement. Eddie turned his head around, noticing Y/N was still hidden behind him like a kid.

“They don’t bite sweetheart, here, sit.” Eddie pulled out the green chair, motioning her to sit beside him. Y/N took at seat, the eyes of members following her movement. Y/N felt as if she was on trial, trying not to bore the people in front of her. She placed her tray on the table, slowly picking at the green and brown mush. When she finally looked up, the entire group, including Eddie was staring at her.

“So you all have staring problems?” Y/N blurted out, looking around the table. When each member met eyes with her, they looked away, pretending to continue their previous conversation. Y/N turned to Eddie, his eyes connecting with her gaze, not parting like the others.

“Eddie if I wanted to sit alone and have no one talk to me, I could have sat over there.” Y/N pointed to the empty table in the corner of the lunch hall.

“Alright, this is stupid, why are you all asking like I brought Jason over here.”

“Eddie you brought some new girl over here, a hot new girl at that, and you’re confused why we’re acting weird?” the young boy with long black hair said.

“Listen, if you guys want me to leave I understand, Eddie was just trying to be nice and not have me sit alone at lunch.” Y/N began to rise from her seat, when one of the freshmen spoke.

“Wait, Y/N. You don’t have to leave, we just need to know about you.”

“Dustin, you’re going to scare her away!” the other freshmen said, louder than anticipated, causing the group to erupt into laughter.

“Oh shut it Mike, I’m surprised Eddie hasn’t scared her off yet.” Eddie deadpanned towards Dustin, glaring at him with spite.

“Well, what do you guys want to know?” Y/N leaned in closer to the table.

“Well for starters, how did Eddie convince you to even step foot over here?”

[datleggy]

Let’s take “birth day” literally and have pregnant Buck go into labor someplace really dumb and/or inconvenient.

It's the hormones, Buck would like to say in his defense, but honestly, the omega would have done it even if he weren't nearly nine months pregnant....

The doctor's told him some light exercise will help, even with his due date being so close now, and so after picking Christopher up from school they'd decided to take a nice stroll in the park.

And it would have been nice if some asshole hadn't put his hands on his kid on the goddamn playground of all places! One minute Buck had been struggling to get up off the bench to see why it looked as though Christopher was in a seemingly heated argument over something or the other, with another little boy around his age, and the next said boy's mother was shoving Christopher away with a sharply pointed nail, poking at his shoulder and shouting obscenities.

And Buck was there in a flash, putting himself between Christopher and the woman and telling her to back off. "You don't touch someone else's kid like that, lady. If you have a problem, you come find me."

The woman looks flustered for a moment before raising her voice again, yelling about how she had barely even touched the eight year old, and about how maybe he shouldn't bring his son around other kids if he couldn't learn to play nice. "If you taught that boy some manners we wouldn't even be here right now!"

Buck knows he should have let it go, knows they were causing a huge and unnecessary scene, and this? This next part he totally blames on the hormones. "If your parents had taught you some manners and common sense we wouldn't be here right now!"

And that had only served to escalate the situation to the point where police had actually been called and arrived on the scene--and apparently the woman had been very convincing when she'd burst into tears and told the cops that Buck had threatened her with violence.

Which is how Buck ends up in a jailcell on a sunny Friday afternoon, waiting for Eddie to come and bail him out and worrying frantically about Christopher, who last he saw, as they'd cuffed him and put him into the back of their vehicle, was currently in the custody of a child services worker.

Buck puts his head in his hands and groans, beyond stressed. Not only is this humiliating as all hell, but his alpha is probably going to kill him for letting this shit happen. He should have ignored the woman and walked away with Christopher in tow. Instead, he'd made it worse and gotten arrested for an assault he hadn't even committed. "Jesus Christ."

"Buckley? Evan Buckley?" An officer calls out; he's older, maybe mid fifties, with a faint Southern drawl.

Buck raises his head. He'd only called Eddie fifteen minutes ago, was he really here that quickly? "Uh, yeah, that's me." he says.

"You're free to go; luckily a bunch of witnesses came forward with the same story--you weren't the aggressor here, son. Now c'mon, your kid's waiting for you right outside."

"Oh thank God." he breaths out, immeasurably relieved. But when he attempts to stand up Buck lets out a hiss and doubles over, face contorting in pain.

The officers eyes go wide and he rushes to open the cell, which is nearly empty, thankfully, except for Buck and a slumbering man in the corner, arrested that morning for public intoxication. "Whoa, whoa," the man's eyes go even wider, if possible, when he realizes what's happening. "Shoot, I think your water just broke, young man."

Buck shakes his head, even though the proof is on the bench and soaking his jeans through and through. He whines as the contraction continues, huffing and puffing. "H-hospital. Please." He pleads.

There is no way he's having this baby while still technically in custody at a police station. Hell, they're in a jailcell, for shit's sake. He'd rather give birth like a total cliché and in the back of a yellow taxi!

"I'm gonna have 'em call you an ambulance, but let's get you outta here first." the officer tries to help Buck stand but another contraction hits, this one harder and more agonizing than the last and Buck cries out, his knees buckling under him.

The officer manages to hold him aloft just long enough to reposition him on the floor as Buck pants and tries not to lose it. The contractions are way too close...

The officer radios his men and calls for help. "Need help in the holding cell on floor 2B, we've got a custodial here who's gone into labor. Urgent request for help in holding cell 2B."

Buck can't help but let out a sob--it's even worse than he'd imagined--he's going to end up giving birth inside a jailcell five feet away from some guy who smells like tequila and regret. Alone.

"What the hell is going on in--Buck?!"

Buck sniffles as he turns his head towards the door, where Athena is standing, mouth agape at the chaotic scene before her. "Athena!" he cries, reaching out for her, needy as can be and not giving a damn.

Athena doesn't waste any time, dropping to her knees beside him, letting him rest his head on her lap. She sooths back his curly locks, now sweaty, and look at the officer, asking sharply, "What happened?"

"He was being released when he went into labor--must be from the stress of the situation. Tried to get him up, but that baby's comin' and soon." he informs her, grimacing when Buck whines in pain as another contraction follows his statement, as if to prove the mans words true.

"Eddie," Buck clenches his teeth, tries to stifle another groans. "Need Eddie."

"He's right outside," Athena tells him, reassuringly. She nods at the officer. "Reyes, get me Eddie Diaz, he's a medic and he should be waiting down on the first floor for us. Hurry!"

***************

Eddie's at the grocery store picking stuff up for dinner tonight when he gets the unexpected call. He almost doesn't answer it, when he sees it's from an unfamiliar number, thinking it's spam, but something nags at him to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

It's Buck. And he sounds upset.

"Buck? What's going on? Everything alright? Who's phone are you using?"

He can hear Buck gulp from the other end of the line. "I've been arrested. I need you to come bail me out and get Christopher out of police custody." he says, all in one rushed statement, like he'd ripping off a band aid.

"Wha--I'm sorry, what? Did you say you're in jail? And Christopher's with the police? What the hell is going on?" Eddie's not proud of the way he raises his voice, especially not in the fruit aisle, where a mother with her toddler gives him a dirty look on her way past, but he's so shocked and panicked he can't stop himself from blurting out, "Buck, what the fuck happened? You were picking Christopher up from school today! Where does jail fit into this?!"

"Eddie, I'm sorry." Buck sighs. "I swear I'll explain everything when you get here, but I don't have a lot of time left on this call and I'm kind of freaking out right now. Please, can you just--"

"Of course, yeah, sorry, I'm on my way, give me like twenty minutes, ok? I'm across town."

"Thank you." the line cuts off abruptly and Eddie's left to ponder what could possibly have happened to have led up to his almost nine months pregnant husband being arrested as he abandons his cart and runs out into the parking lot.

****************

Eddie nearly gets arrested himself, with the way he's speeding down the highway before turning onto the main road and parking right in front of the station, where only police vehicles are allowed.

The alpha finds his kid with a social worker, happily munching on a donut. “Chris!?” Eddie runs over and engulfs his son in a suffocating hug. “Are you ok? What happened?” 

Christopher pulls away slightly, nodding. “I’m ok. Bucky got in trouble ‘cause the lady at the park lied. Officer Reyes said he’s gonna bring him out soon.” 

The social worker explains the whole story to Eddie, “Thankfully there were a lot of witnesses who corroborated the events. Your husband should be out in a few minutes; it was all just an awful misunderstanding. The woman at the park is in custody right now for giving the police a false accusation and wasting everybody’s time.”  

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief and he practically falls into a chair nearby, pulling Christopher onto his lap and holding him tight around the middle. “Is he ok? Buck is pregnant. He’s due in two weeks.” 

The social worker gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’s in good hands. Officer Reyes will have him out here in a couple of minutes.” 

****************

After a couple of minutes turns to five, turns to ten, Eddie starts to get angsty. Which is why it’s a good thing, when he happens to spot Athena rounding the corner and into the station. He calls over to her and she furrows her brows in concern before making her way across to them. 

“Eddie? Christopher? What’s going on?” 

“It’s a long story.” Eddie sighs, “But Buck is being held in a cell right now, they said an officer Reyes was supposed to bring him down here, that he was free to go, but that was forever ago,” he exaggerates. “Can you please find out what’s taking so long?” 

“Of course.” 

****************

Buck sobs openly when his alpha enters the room, “Eddie!” he calls out desperately. 

Athena holds Buck close and looks up. “He’s in labor. Contractions are less than a minute apart. He needs to start pushing.” 

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, though his brain feels like it’s about to short circuit if even one more insane thing happens within these twenty four hours. He drops between Buck’s knees and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Hey, I’m here, I’m here, you’ve got this, ok? Cause I’ve got you.” 

“I’m scared.” Buck admits, tears sliding down face, and he’s shaking like a leaf, terrified that something will go wrong. “I don’t--” he groans pitifully against another contraction. “Don’t wanna have her in here.” 

“I know baby, I know, but she’s coming now, Buck. She’s not gonna wait for us to make it to a hospital. She’s impatient,” Eddie kisses his hand, squeezing again, comfortingly. “Just like you.” 

Buck huffs. “No, like you. Y-you never wait for your soup to cool down.” 

“My Tia’s sopa is worth the burnt tongue.” Eddie plays along, trying to distract him from the pain. “Baby, I need you to push, ok? I know this isn’t how we pictured any of this, but it’s time.” 

Buck nods through the tears and steels himself. 

“Good, good, now push, c’mon, you can do this. I’m right here.” 

****************

“You look handsome in your mugshot.” Eddie tells Buck, staring at the photo he asked Athena to send him on his phone.

Buck glares at the alpha. “Funny.” 

Eddie leans down to kiss the frown off his face. “Sorry, too soon?” 

Buck turns the other way in bed with an annoyed huff. “You’re on baby night duty for the rest of the week.” he shuts the lamp light off and then the room is dim with just the moon peaking in through their blinds. 

“Hey,” Eddie sits up, tilting his head. It’s been over a month since the incident, and sure, it hadn’t been pleasant, but Buck and their baby had made it through just fine, health intact, and in the hospital Buck hadn’t seemed too phased after the ordeal, mostly content with Christopher and the baby curled up against and on him. “That was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.” 

Buck gulps. He’s being way too sensitive about this. Everything turned out alright and shortly after the whole thing had passed Chimney had even teased him that of course only Buck would have bad enough luck to end up giving birth in a holding cell. And Buck had laughed it off. 

Mostly because he’d been relieved. 

And then of course with the new baby the last month has been a whirlwind of constant activity, of making sure all her needs are met, of making sure Christopher’s not feeling neglected, of debating on when he should start thinking about going back to work and--

Eddie’s heart leaps when he hears Buck’s sharp intake of breath. “Buck?” 

Buck sits up now, too, swiping miserably at the tears that suddenly won’t stop falling. “Sorry, I--ignore me. I didn’t--” he sniffles. “I haven’t really thought about that day since--everything’s been so busy with--you know?--and--” he cuts himself off with a choked off sob. “It’s the hormones.” 

It’s been four weeks now and his hormones from the pregnancy are still driving him every which way and he feels ridiculous right now, crying over something he should have processed a month ago already. 

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him between his legs and against his chest. “Let it out.” he says. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

Buck curls into Eddie and releases all emotion he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping all pent up inside. The fear, the anguish--Buck lets himself be held, coddled, loved. 

It feels good. 

After he’s cried for what feels like ages Buck rests the side of his head on Eddie’s shoulder and exhales. “You know Christopher wanted to name her Tuubee?” he murmurs. 

Eddie, who’s rubbing up and down his husbands back, pauses a moment. “’Tuubee’?” he repeats. 

Buck half smirks against his shoulder. “Two B. The cell where she was born.”

.

[trashmouthkid]

“Surely not…everyone?”

Eddie’s eyebrows twist in a conflicted mix of amusement and doubt. In the cubicle across from him, Kay straddles her office chair, chin resting on the back rest. She eyes Audra next to her, who bites down on a smile.

“I mean, not Stan,” Eddie says, as if it’s obvious, but he’s given another try again look and his confidence shakes. “Okay…But Bill’s only just got here.”

“Yeah,” Audra agrees, “but Mike’s been here for five years.”

That was five years less than Eddie’s been here. He sighs. He shouldn’t have asked. What the deal with the conference room on Thursdays was. He really didn’t want to know. 

But he was nosy, and starting to feel out of place for it.

And, well. The deal with the conference room on Thursdays was that there were no conferences on Thursdays at all. And yet the room still found its place, found a purpose, a reason to be around, five days a week anyway.

“Look, Eddie, its—it’s no big deal, or anything,” Kay says. “We know you have a thing about germs and all.”

“We’re not kicking you out of trivia night or anything,” Audra agrees. “It’s just…what happens.”

Eddie stifles a scowl. A moment or two of silence passes between the three of them, and then he says: “I could do it.”

He’s got that look on his face, he knows by the worried glance Kay and Audra share. That stubborn determinism that gets him in trouble more than anything else. “I could!”

“Okay,” Audra says, bemused. “Sure. With who? You don’t exactly have a great track record with one-night stands.”

Eddie’s lost his reasonable train of thought by now and stands to look around their office floor irritably. The people he knows, the people he doesn’t. For all he’s learned about himself in the last few years, he can’t figure out which would be the better option. Or worse, still, which would less likely leave him rejected. He bites down on the inside of his cheek at the same time his eyes fall on someone with whom he’s never heard the word “no” from in his entire life.

He grimaces, then shakes it off.

“Richie,” he says, matter-of-factly.

When Eddie takes a direction, apparently he takes it sharp, because he’s known Richie longer than anyone else here. Longer than Stan—longer than Bill, even. And the gawky, curly-haired man, who’d been hunched over his keyboard in some sort of hyper-focused work-a-thon until now, swivels around in his chair like a dog perking up it’s ears at the sound of its name.

“Hmm?” he says, eyebrows raised. He sees Eddie on his feet and the two women pulled away from their cubicles out onto the middle of the floor and looks between the three of them. Eddie comes over and grabs his wrist.

“We,” he says stubbornly, “are having sex in the conference room. Right now.”

“Oh,” Richie says to himself. “Sweet.”

Eddie pulls him away from his cubicle, past the other desks filled with coworkers who glace briefly in their direction before getting back to their work. He shoves Richie into the conference room and closes the door behind him.

In the dark, he catches glimpses of his thoughts again and immediately feels embarrassed.

“Christ” he mutters. “How the hell—”

There’s commotion behind him and when he looks back, Richie is tugging on his belt buckle at the same time he’s toeing off his shoes, face scrunched up in frustration.

“What are you doing?” Eddie says in a harsh whisper. Richie looks up at him, startled. He feels his face heat. “Oh my god. Did. Did you think we were actually going to have sex in here?”

Richie furrows his brows.

“No,” he whispers back, and the sarcasm is noted. “When you said we were going to have sex in the conference room, I thought you meant we were going to start a book club.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I just want them to think that I am,” he says after a moment.

“Sure,” Richie says, like it makes all the sense in the world, in the way that it makes no sense at all.

Eddie sighs. Rests his forehead against the door. When the quiet goes on for too long, he turns around to face Richie.

“You were really going to have sex with me in a conference room?” he asks doubtfully.

“Eddie,” Richie says, and holds out his empty hands like he’s giving something to him. “If you haven’t yet noticed, I would have sex with you in the rain. I would have sex with you on a train! I would have sex with you in the park. I would have sex with you in the dark. Do I have to keep going? Because it’s about to get weird.”

Eddie swallows. “Oh,” he says, and fights a smile. “Well, that’s…really flattering. And totally inappropriate.”

In response, Richie gestures between the two of them, alone in the conference room with the door locked on behalf of Eddie. Eddie throws his hands up in surrender, but is still thinking about what Richie said. He would be thinking about it the rest of the workday. He would be thinking about it when he got home—late, in bed. He would be thinking about it tomorrow, when Richie came over for movie night like he always did. Richie. Who makes a bed of his couch without even asking.

Eddie wonders who he—

“Okay, I think we’re good now.”

“Hey now,” Richie argues. “Give me some credit. I deserve at least another five minutes.”

It is, technically, the least Eddie can do. So he sighs, presses his hip against the wall, and absently checks his definitely broken watch for the next couple minutes.

“Alright,” Richie says eventually, and Eddie reaches for the doorknob. “Hang on.”

Eddie stills and Richie comes over. Reaches out with steady hands and first, loosens his tie. Then undoes a button—just one—and Eddie can feel the brush of his fingertips on his bare neck. He runs his hands through Eddie’s hair and Eddie holds his breath. He steps back to look at Eddie, and Eddie closes his eyes.

“Wow.” Richie’s voice is low again, and when Eddie opens his eyes, he’s shaking his head. “Okay. You first. I’ll be right behind you.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 6: The Slowest Cooker

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s Friday, April 17th, and they’re eating lunch in the Hoover building’s cafeteria. They eat lunch together almost every day now, Mulder realizes. They’re practically joined at the hip.

Except in the fun way.

Today is different, though. Because today she invites him over for dinner.

Scully’s devouring a caesar salad, and Mulder’s heart is warmed by the evidence of her returning appetite. Five months ago, she was dying of cancer, and now she’s here stealing the occasional potato chip from the bag he got from the vending machine. He doesn’t mind; she could take his entire sandwich from him right now, and he’d happily watch her eat it.

“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews. “My mother got me a crockpot for my birthday and I’m thinking of giving it a test drive.”

His heart leaps, and he wants to shout yes, but instead he asks “What about Mark?”

She gives him one of her patented Scully looks. “I’m allowed to have friends, Mulder. And I still owe you for going to the bar with me that one time, remember?” She takes another bite of salad. “Also, he’s working.”

“Ah,” Mulder says knowingly. “Sure; what’s on the menu?”

“Pork roast,” she replies. “My mom’s recipe. The leftovers make great pulled-pork sandwiches.”

“Anything you’d like me to bring?”

Scully shrugs. “Red wine would go nicely, but I’ll be testing you at the door to make sure you’re not Eddie Van Blundht,” she says dryly.

“You gonna check me for evidence of a tail, Scully?” he says in a low tone, leaning in so they’re not overheard.

“Keep that up and I’m rescinding my invite and keeping all the leftovers to myself,” she replies, picking a wilted bit of romaine out of her salad.

It’s not a date, he reminds himself. Just friends sharing dinner.

Regardless, he takes a shower and puts on one of his nicer sweaters before heading to her place.

He knocks on her door at 6:30 sharp, a bottle of Pinot Noir in hand. His palm is a little sweaty, and he grips the wine tightly to avoid dropping it.

“It’s open,” he hears her call out.

He opens the door and is hit by the savory aroma of meat and herbs. His mouth waters instantly. When he turns and sees her in the kitchen, it waters for a different reason entirely.

Scully’s reaching into the cupboard above the sink, her soft green sweater riding up to expose a ribbon of creamy skin. He wants to wrap his arms around her waist, kiss her neck, tell her to forget dinner because he’s got something else on his mind.

Instead he just says “Hey”.

“Hi,” she greets him, bringing down two salad plates and setting them on the table. “Do you want to hear the good news first or the bad?”

Mulder blinks. “Uh,” he says brilliantly. That goddamn little sweater-

“The good news is that I’ve had the crockpot running for about six hours, and nothing’s caught fire,” she says, leaning against the countertop.

He nods. “And the bad news is…”

“I started the roast at almost half noon,” Scully admits. “I had to go to the grocery store first and that took longer than expected. So the meat won’t be done until eight-thirty.”

“That’s fine,” Mulder says, hoping his stomach doesn’t rumble loudly enough for her to hear. “Oh, and I brought Pinot Noir,” he says, reading the label.

---

They eat the salad she prepared; it’s spinach and apple with vinaigrette, and Mulder has to admit it’s pretty tasty.

“You’re a good hostess, Scully,” Mulder says as she pours him a glass of Prosecco. “Maggie should be proud.”

“Please note the size of crockpot she gifted me,” Scully replies, gesturing to the slow-cooker on the counter. “She fully intends for me to feed a crowd, not just you. I have a long way to go.” She sits across from him and takes a sip of her wine. “But this is a start.”

“Can I make a confession?” he asks.

Scully nods.

“I… I don’t drink much wine. So I have no idea if the one I brought is any good. I told the store clerk I was having pork for dinner and he recommended that one,” Mulder says, cocking his head toward the bottle on the counter.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scully assures him. “I’m not a wine snob by any means. I’m kind of surprised you’re not one, actually, considering your background.”

Mulder shrugs. “I don’t drink much, aside from the occasional beer. But this is good,” he says, lifting his glass.

———

The Prosecco is… very good.

“How long until the meat’s done?” Mulder asks, resting his head on his hand.

“Half hour,” Scully replies, downing the last sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Mulder. Do you want some cheese and crackers to tide you over?”

“M’good,” he says lazily, stifling a burp. He’s feeling warm and soft inside, and the wine’s put him in a charitable mood. “How are things with Mark?”

“Things are good… things are fine,” Scully says, then sighs. “He’s… god, he’s so nice.”

“Nice is good, right?” Mulder asks, toying with his empty wine glass. “People like nice.”

Scully narrows her eyes at him. “Are you feeling okay, Mulder?”

“We’re not talking about me,” he says, slumping in his chair and stretching his long legs out under the table. “We’re talking about Mark. Mark Eidolanterns.”

“Einolander,” Scully corrects him. “And yes, nice is good, generally,” she continues. “But sometimes I wish he weren’t so nice. I don’t know,” she says, exhaling. “I need more wine if I’m going to talk about this,” she says with a huff of laughter.

“Hey, we got it,” Mulder says. “Dinner’s almost ready anyway. Let’s try the mystery Pinot I brought.”

---

The pot roast is done cooking and they’re definitely a little drunk.

“Whew… I’m feeling this,” Mulder says, holding the bottle up too close to his face as he attempts to read the label. “It’s been so long, I forgot that wine does this to me.”

“Higher alcohol content,” Scully says. “And you’re a lightweight.”

“That your medical opinion, Dr. Scully?” he asks.

“Yes,” she mumbles, slicing a piece off of the roast and dumping it unceremoniously onto his plate. “Tada,” she says, pushing it across the table to him. “Meat.”

“I can see that,” he remarks. He takes another sip of wine. “Wine’s good,” he assures her, even though she’s already on her second glass of the red.

“Can’t say the same for the roast,” she admits, chewing. “I skimped on the salt and in hindsight that was a bad idea.”

Mulder shovels a piece into his mouth. “Tastes good to me,” he assures her. “But I’ve only had wine and salad since lunchtime so at this point I’d eat anything. I’d eat you,” he adds, pointing his fork in her direction.

“Pass that idea along to Mark,” she sighs, then covers her mouth. “I didn’t say that,” she says, face red.

“You did,” Mulder crows, too tipsy to feel jealous. “You did and I heard you.” He takes another draw from his glass. “The store guy was right, this is good with pork.”

“You’re going to have an incredible hangover tomorrow,” Scully says, chewing meditatively. “Wine’s a bitch.”

“You should swear more,” Mulder says. “It’s endearing.”

Scully shakes her head. “I can’t believe how drunk you are,” she says, almost fondly.

“I’m not that drunk,” he insists. Just in love with you.

Scully smiles. “No sober man has ever said that.”

---

“There’s no spark,” she blurts out.

They’d taken the rest of of the wine to the couch and are slumped on opposite ends, goblets in hand.

“No spark?” Mulder echoes. It was an admission he wasn’t expecting. He angles his body towards hers, careful not to spill his glass.

“With Mark. I like him, I really do. He’s kind, intelligent, a devoted father, and quite attractive; and yet…” She gestures loosely to her body with the hand not holding her wine. “Nothing.” She takes another sip. “I can’t shake the idea that I should be feeling more. And the fact that he hasn’t kissed me yet... I understand wanting to move slowly and let things grow with time, but not even a single kiss?”

“Th-that did strike me as odd,” Mulder stumbles. “You have nice lips.”

“I do,” Scully agrees, seemingly unfazed by the comment. “I should be kissed.” She drains her glass and holds it out to him.

Mulder pours out the last of the bottle into her glass. “Maybe if… maybe if you kissed, you’d find the spark.”

Scully shakes her head. “No. No, it does’t work that way. At least not for me. I don’t want to force chemistry that’s not there,” she explains. “It should come naturally, feel like it does with-”

Mulder waits expectantly for her to finish her sentence. “With?” he prompts.

Her face is flushed with wine, and she licks her lips. “Mulder, tell me honestly; do you think I’m settling?”

The room suddenly feels too warm, and he takes a nervous gulp of wine that does nothing to calm his body. “Scully, I- I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“You’re my closest friend,” she says softly, eyes cast downward. “Who else would I ask?”

She has a point. “Your mother-” he begins.

“She set me up with him in the first place,” Scully reminds him. “Clearly she’d be no help.”

“What do you want, Scully? If you’re honest with yourself.” He raises his glass. “In vino veritas, or whatever,” he says, taking another drink.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I always do this. I find a man I want to impress or gain the approval of, then resent the authority I let them have over me. This cycle of… of compliance and defiance is exhausting.”

He can tell she’s tipsy, and yet at the same time she’s strangely lucid. He’s never gotten to experience this particular kind of vulnerability with her before, and it gives him a thrill. He can feel the warmth of her body permeating him from across the sofa, her bright hair like a wood stove fire on a winter night. He wants to wrap her entire body around him like a blanket and have a long sleep.

“Yup, I’m drunk,” he declares, and throws back the last of his glass.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hi love! I've had this idea for a bit and I think it would be perfect in the same universe of your plank all over me one shots! Okay do you remember that interview where Conor Maynard planked Tom with the fake interviewer?? What if Tom tried to do the same thing to prank y/n but as soon as the fake interviewer walks in she immediately knows what's happening so then gives super weird answers or tries to mess with tom in all the answers she gives?? You don't have to do it if you don't want to tho!

Plank All Over Me - Prank Interview Edition

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom and Connor Maynard try to prank you, but you prank then right back

Disclaimer: you don’t have to have read the others to understand, but check them out ;)

Plank All Over Me

Plank All Over Me - Yoga Edition

Plank All Over Me - Couples Tag

Masterlist

“What’s going on guys? It’s Conor Maynard here and I’m joined by an old friend of mine.” Conor pointed to Tom.

“Tom Holland.” Tom smiled at the camera.

“You May have heard of him, probably not. He’s not very well known.” Conor joked.

“I know, mate. I’m so lucky you’re putting me on your channel. Could be my big break.” Tom replied.

“My other friend Josh Pieters is in the other room with Toms girlfriend, the incredibly famous and lovely Y/n L/n. If you’ve seen my video where Josh, Casper and I pranked Tom with a fake interview, you already know what’s about to go down. If you don’t, Josh has an AirPod in under his headband. We’re going to be giving him things to say and he has to say them to Y/n. We’re gonna try to really freak her out. Are you ready Tom?”

“Very ready. Y/n, I love you pretty girl but you had this coming.” Tom rubbed his hands together. 

“Looks like she’s in the room. Introduce yourself.” Conor instructed. “But make it uncomfortable.”

“Hi, I’m Josh but you can call me Josh.” Josh said with a blank stare. You vaguely recognized the boy interviewing you but you couldn’t pinpoint where he was from.

“Oh uh, hi Josh.” You laughed lightly. “I’m Y/n.”

“Tell her you had a pet called Y/n and something terrible happened to it.” Conor snickered.

“I had a fish called Y/n when I was younger.” Josh informed you.

“Aw, that’s sweet.” You smiled.

“Yeah. It was my best friend until my brother swallowed it alive.” He said with no emotion.

“Oh.” You replied, not knowing what else to say. You began to sense something was off. He was wearing a headband, for one, and he didn’t look like he normally wore them. Someone was up to something.

“Even more uncomfortable.” Tom ordered.

“I’m a big fan so it’s very nice to meet you.” Josh said. “A huge fan actually, if you know what I mean.” Josh gave you a wink and you swallowed thickly. It suddenly dawned on you where you knew him from. He was Josh Pieters, the YouTuber who pranked Tom. You’d seen a number of his prank videos with Casper Lee and Joe Sugg and had a feeling that this one would be no different. If he wanted to prank you, you’d give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Not that uncomfortable!” Tom said.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You answered, preparing to have a little fun.

“Be normal. Ask her about the Marvel making Eddie a girl.” Conor said.

“For those who don’t know, the character Eddie Brock, who later gets infected with the symbiote Venom, is a male in the comics. How do you feel about Marvel changing the role to be played by a woman after your audition?” Josh asked. You thought about your answer for a moment.

“I think it was a really dumb move, actually. I originally auditioned for the role of Anne, who’s Eddie Brocks girlfriend. I think they should’ve kept Eddie a boy since women are weak, useless creatures and I hate them all.” You answered matter-of-factly and Josh looked a little taken aback. You nodded as if it confirm your answer and Josh looked lost.

“Oh.” Josh said and leaned to the side as if he were listening to something you couldn’t hear.

“I’m kidding. I love that they made Eddie a girl. I was so excited when they called me and told me who I was playing.” You followed up. You didn’t want them to catch on too soon that you were messing with them. You had to dial it down.

“Ask about the Spider-Man/Venom relationship.” Conor told Josh.

“And me. Ask about me.” Tom added.

“If it fun getting to play Tom Holland’s on screen girlfriend as well as being his in real life girlfriend?” Josh asked you and you smirked. So Tom was behind this as well. Now was your time to really mess with them.

“Not really, if I’m honest.” You answered.

“What?” Conor laughed.

“What?” Tom deadpanned.

“Really?” Josh asked while stifling a laugh.

“It’s just, there are so many attractive men in the Marvel cast, Tom included don’t get me wrong.” You assured him. “I kinda wish they let me date one of them on screen since I already date Tom off screen.”

“Ask her who she’d want to date.” Tom demanded, watching you with hooded eyes.

“Who do you wish you were dating?” Josh asked you.

“Definitely Chris Evans.” You answered too quickly for Toms liking. “Oh, did you mean what character?”

“I’m gonna die. I’m actually going to perish.” Tom backed away from the microphone and covered his mouth with his hands.

“Keep going. Ask more about Tom.” Conor instructed.

“But you like working with Tom, right?” Josh tried to bring the conversation to a positive point.

“Again, not really.” You shrugged.

“Interesting.” Josh stated, silently begging for the boys to tell him what to say. No one was prepared for your answers.

“Ask why.” Conor said as Tom fanned himself in the background.

“Can you elaborate on that?” Josh asked.

“It’s just weird acting along side your boyfriend. I think he should leave the acting me to, honestly.” You smiled innocently, knowing Tom was somewhere freaking out.

“Do you think he’s bad?” Tom grabbed them microphone.

“Do you think he’s bad?” Josh repeated.

“Well, he’s very attractive. I’m sure that was a big factor in getting the part. But his American accent…”, you made a face, “not the best. Being from New York is such a big part of Peter Parker that I feel like Marvel should’ve gone with an American actor. No offense to Tom, of course. He’s great in all his other movies.”

“Wow.” Josh squeaked.

“She told me she loves my American accent.” Tom whispered, bewildered.

“Ask her about her favorite accent.” Conor tried to lighten the mood.

“Do you like British accents better?” Josh asked you.

“I’ll tell you what I like. Chris Hemsworth’s accent.” You gushed. “I think it’s the hottest thing ever.”

“Did you guys hear that?” Tom asked gravely.

“Hear what?” Conor asked him.

“My heart shattering.” Tom answered.

“Tom, it’s just an accent. It’s okay.” Conor assured his friend. Tom couldn’t even hear him anymore. He grabbed the microphone with a heavy hand.

“Ask her if she likes Australians better than the British.” He demanded.

“You think Australian accents are better than British accents?” Josh repeated Toms question.

“Is that even a question? Duh.” You laughed.

“I can’t breath.” Tom wheezed.

“I do like your accent, though.” You said, catching everyone off guard.

“She what?” Tom asked. “What?”

“Oh, thank you.” Josh said, beginning to panic.

“Where are you from?” You asked, leaning forward on your hands.

“South Africa.” Josh told you and you smiled brightly and you continued your plan.

“Wait, really? That’s so exciting. I’ve always wanted to go there.” You beamed.

“Since when?” Conor looked up at Tom.

“She’s never said anything about South Africa.” Tom said in confusion.

“It’s a beautiful place.” Josh agreed.

“I bet. England is so dreary.” You rolled your eyes. “Maybe you can take me to South Africa one day.”

“Maybe.” Josh nodded as he tried to send messages in Morse code by blinking rapidly at the camera. You smirked, knowing your plan was working.

“Change the subject, Josh. Before Tom dies.” Conor ordered.

“Ask her about the wallpaper.” Tom blurted.

“Why the wallpaper?” Conor asked.

“It’s the least romantic topic I could think of!” Tom exclaimed.

“So, this is some really nice wallpaper, wouldn’t you agree?” Josh changed the subject. This threw you off a little but you were determined to win this prank.

“I was just thinking that! You read my mind.” You said excitedly.

“That backfired.” Conor said as he watched Tom fall to the floor in agony.

“Your name is Josh right?” You asked coyly.

“Yes ma’am.” Josh answered.

“I love that name.” You complimented. “I always have.”

“Do you?” Josh’s mouth dried up.

“Totally. It’s so exotic.” You beamed. Toms head snapped up from the floor.

“Exotic? There is a white boy named Josh in every high school movie ever made.” Tom exclaimed. “Exotic compared to what? Toast?”

“Thank you. I like it too.” Josh said awkwardly, wishing the boys would give him something to say.

“It’s so much better than a white bread name like Tom. Who names their kid Tom? What is he, an apostle?” You laughed. “Josh is way cooler in my opinion. It’s like the name of a god or something.”

“A god?” Tom nearly screamed. “What would Josh be the god of?”

“Gingers.” Conor shrugged.

“Thank you.” Josh said and gave the camera a stern glare.

“Tell her about your quail.” Conor suggested.

“That’s perfect. She’ll think he’s a total weirdo! Great thinking Conor.” Tom patted his friend on the back.

“Not exactly my plan, but okay.” Connor nodded.

“Do you have any pets?” Josh began his segway.”

“I do. I have a dog named Tessa.” You answered. “She’s not really my dog, though. She’s Tom’s.”

“I know you’re an animal person. You must love her.” Josh smiled now that the prank was back on track.

“Honestly, I can’t stand her. She’s always sleeping in our bed with us and begging at the table. I’m this close to telling Tom to get rid of her.” You pinched your fingers together and watched Josh go pale.

“That was it. That was the thing that killed me.” Tom mumbled as he slumped in a chair.

“Talk about the quail!” Conor repeated in an effort to save Tom.

“I have a pet too. It’s a quail.” Josh told you proudly.

“A quail? How did you get a quail?” You asked with a smile.

“Well my friends and I bought a carton of quail eggs and put them in an incubator. Only one hatched but I’ve kept her as a pet.” Josh told you the infamous story. You’d seen the video he posted about it but decided to play dumb.

“You saved a quail? That’s amazing.” You gushed as if you’d never heard the story before.

“It was just a fun thing for YouTube but I’ve actually grown quite fond of her.” Josh said, beginning to enjoy the interview.

“That’s the mosh amazing story I’ve ever herad.” You swore. “You’re a hero. A real life hero.”

“Okay. He put a carton of eggs in a hot box. He’s not Mother Theresa.” Tom pouted.

“You and Tom should come over and meet her sometime.” Josh suggested.

“Good. Bring the conversation back to Tom.” Conor nodded.

“Yeah. I’m feeling better now.” Tom agreed.

“Tom doesn’t have time be there. It can just be you and I.” You said as you looked at him through your lashes. Josh looked panicked.

“Never mind.” Tom groaned, clenching his stomach.

“What’s your last name, Josh?” You asked as you twirled some hair around your finger.

“Pieters.” Josh informed you.

“Pieters? That’s so cute. I love the way it sounds. Can you imagine it with my name? Y/n Pieters.” You smiled. “Doesn’t that just sound effervescent?”

“It sounds lovely, Y/n.” Josh said, eyeing you strangely.

“Toms still dead but if he were alive right now, he’d be livid.” Conor sighed as he listened.

“I can hear it. And I am in fact livid.” Tom said from his newly claimed spot on the floor.

“You know who else’s last name sounds good on me? Osterfield.” You were pulling out all the guns now. “I think Y/n Osterfield sounds great. Don’t you agree?”

“Uhhh…” Josh feared for his life if he agreed.

“Don’t you dare agree.” Tom grumbled through the microphone.

“Say you like Y/n Holland best.” Conor suggested.

“That’s good. Say that.” Tom nodded.

“I think Y/n Holland sounds better than both of those.” Josh told you.

“You think?” You made a face. “I actually hate Toms last name. It doesn’t fit with anything. It’s too long.”

“Osterfield is longer.” Josh reminded you.

“I bet Osterfield is longer.” You said and winked at the camera. Tom caught the double meaning and started sweating profusely.

“Ask her if she plans to take my last name when we’re married.” Tom asked, fully panicking now.

“Are you gonna take his last name when you’re married?” Josh repeated.

“Yeah, like we’re getting married.” You laughed.

“She doesn’t want to marry me?” Tom asked, all anger draining from him. It was replaced with devastation and defeat.

“Ask her if she wants to marry Tom.” Conor said as he watched Toms fallen face carefully.

“You guys aren’t planning on getting married?” Josh asked, feeling himself beginning to sweat.

“We are.” You nodded and Tom sighed in relief. “To other people.” You added.

“She killed me and now she’s beating my corpse with a phone book.” Tom said in exasperation.

“Try to change the subject again away from marriage.” Conor pleaded for Toms sake.

“Your hair looks really nice today.” Josh blurted.

“That’s not helping!” Tom shouted.

“Thank you! I really like your hair too. I totally have a thing for gingers.” You nodded.

“Said no one ever!” Tom scoffed.

“Abandon that conversation immediately. New plan! Ask her what her favorite thing about Tom is.” Conor shrugged.

“Speaking of Tom, whats your favorite thing about him?” Josh asked, ignoring the insult from Tom.

“My favorite thing about Tom? That’s easy.” You smiled and Tom did too. “He always puts the toilet seat down after he’s done. I hate when boys leave it up. So, probably that.”

“Her favorite thing about me is how I put the toilet seat down?” Tom asked with a blank stare.

“Ask her something else about him. He’s dying, Josh. He’s on his last leg.” Conor begged.

“Finish this sentence: my boyfriend gives the best…” Josh began.

“Kisses.” You gushed. Josh looked at the camera for approval and he heard Tom sigh happily into the microphone. “Just kidding, he gives the best directions. He’s really good at giving people directions. His kisses are lack luster, but I’m sure that doesn’t surprise anyone.”

“Ask her what in the the absolutely, positively, burning, bloody hell that meant?” Tom quipped.

“Why not?” Josh asked you.

“Do I have to say it?” You asked.

“Make her say it.” Tom ordered.

“Yes.” Josh nodded.

“No lips.” You shrugged.

“Can’t argue with her on that one, mate.” Conor told Tom.

“Can you get her to say one nice thing about me before my ghost ascends into heaven?” Tom sighed in defeat.

“What do you love about him? There must be something, right? Why else would you be together?” Josh asked you. You decided it was time to let up.

“There is something I love about Tom.” You smiled dreamily.

“Thank God.” Tom said, leaning forward to hear you clearly.

“Finally.” Conor after.

“Really? What is it?” Josh asked.

“What I really, truly love about Tom,” you smiled at the camera, “is how he thinks he can prank me better than I can prank him.”

“What?” Josh laughed as he realized you’d be toying with him.

“Wait, what?” Tom stuttered.

“What?” Conor asked at the 50th turn the video had taken.

“Come on, Josh. I smelt BS as soon as I walked in here.” You declared. “You think I haven’t seen Conners video where you pranked Tom exactly like this? You boys must think I’m dumb.”

“Wait a minute, she what? What?” Tom tried to wrap his head around what he was hearing.

“Would you look at that.” Conor said, dumbfounded.

“You knew it was a prank and you let us believe we were pranking you this entire time?” Josh asked, not bothering to hide how impressed he was.

“Yup.” You popped the p.

“Come on.” Tom pulled Connor out of the room and ran to where you and Josh were. You burst out laughing when you saw Toms red face.

“Ha! I knew I’d get you.” You clapped as you pulled Tom into a hug. “You should’ve known better than to challenge me. You know they call me Prank Sinatra.”

“No one calls you that.” He mumbled as his cheeks flamed up in embarrassment that you’d gotten him so good.

“Modern day Prank Ocean.” You shrugged smugly.

“How did you know it was a prank?” Conor asked you.

“I watch you and Josh all the time. I know a prank when I see one. I got you guy so good, thinking I liked the name Josh and all that.” You said triumphantly.

“Hey.” Josh warned.

“Sorry.” You apologized.

“So all your answers were…” Tom began.

“Complete and utter lies?” You finished. “Why yes, yes they were. Every last one.”

“You made all that up? All that stuff about my accent and not liking to work with me?” He asked hopefully, needing to hear you confirm it.

“Obviously! When do I ever say “effervescent”? You should’ve known I was only joking, lover.” You assured him as you pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’d never say that stuff. I love your accent and I love working with you.

“And the marriage stuff?” He said softly. You knew you took it a little too far with that one.

“If you want that to happen, you know what to do.” You shrugged casually and he blushed.

“I cannot believe you pranked us this badly. I feel so defeated.” Conor sighed.

“You shouldn’t have challenged the queen of pranks.” You told him as Tom presses kissed of relief to your cheek.

“Wait, what about what you said about wanting to date Chris Evans?” He remembered.

“Thanks for watching everybody! Bye!” You said to the camera before running out of the room.

“Wait! You didn’t answer my question!” Tom said as he ran after you.

“Don’t forget to subscribe!” You shouted from the hallway.

“What she said.” Conor smiled again the camera before turning it off.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @writing-for-hours-on-end @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @ho-ho-holland @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @m19friend @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts @jackiehollanderr @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @loveat2am @mara-twins @iamaunicorn4704 @delicately-important-trash @mjspxrker @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @kii-mii @maryjanee23 @spacebitch2 @vgiselle @geeksareunique