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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year ago

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@steddiemas Day 13 - Snow Day

uh...yeah.. this got way away from me but...here's day 13! (a day late and 4k words more than normal???)

pairing: steddie | word count: 5,201 | rated: T

The following Thursday finds Eddie and the entire Hellfire Club literally and metaphorically clamoring over each other and his large dining room table while their campaign (Eddie had helpfully told him) continues on.

Luckily, Robin had agreed to spend their night off work from the video store with him.

“So, when are you going to do something about your hopeless Eddie crush?”

“SSshh! Not so loud, Rob!”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Sorry to tell you this Dingus, but I don’t think he’s paying you a single modicum of attention.”

Steve looks over at the table from his spot on the couch; Robin’s right, of course, Eddie’s already halfway onto the tabletop, his arms stretched wide and the rest of him hunched low to the wood.

He’s deep into his story and his voice is dropped low, only the tone of it reaching Steve’s ears.

“He’s such a dork.” Steve sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but you loooove him!” Robin teases, poking one foot that had been with her other on Steve’s lap into his side instead.

Steve rolls his eyes at her, “Hand me another slice of cheese.”

She reaches over to one of the leftover boxes of pizza on the coffee table and fishes out a slice for him, “So what are you gonna do about it?” She asks, handing it to him.

“About what?” he asks, taking down half the slice in one bite.

“Don’t play dumb Steve,”

He sighs, “I don’t know Rob; he hasn’t made a move either! He kissed me first, remember? Right over there!” Steve points to the offending doorway, “Because of you, by the way.” he snarfs down the other half of the slice two big bites.

“I remember.” She nods.

“I honestly don’t know what to do Bob, I want to corner him and kiss him all over his fuckin’ body but how’m I supposed to know if he’d be okay with that? Does he want that?”

“Oh he wants that, believe me.”

Steve narrows his eyes at her. She only quirked a brow at him in return. “What do you know, Buckley?”

Robin snorts out a laugh, “I would say to just go for it, but I feel like he’d freak if you did that out of the blue.”

“So, what, I just say ‘Hey, I really really like you, maybe already halfway love you, and I want to know if you’d like to kiss about it maybe?’?”

“Who’s Steve kissing?”

Steve jumps at Dustin’s voice, suddenly beside him. He knew his hearing was going on his left..Robin told him he was just imagining it.

“OOh, Steve’s kissing someone?” This time it was Lucas, his voice teasing as he passes behind Dustin through the door under the stairs with his arms full of pop cans.

“I’m not kissing anyone,”

“He just wants to.”

Damn you, Robin. Steve glances quickly to the table, Eddie has his back turned to them.

“Who is it?”

“Uh, it’s…” Steve pauses for a half a second, “None of your business. You guys done for the night?”

“Yeah.. about that..”

Oh no–

“Can we stay the night here? We have to start planning out our characters for the next campaign!”

“You guys are done done?” “Not quite,” Steve turns his head to the right, the older kid Frank is standing in the other doorway from the living room to the hall closest to the front door. “We have one more session then I’m DM-ing the next campaign.”

Steve nods along with Robin (whose head is hanging backward over the arm of the couch closest to Frank). “So you…six? Seven? Want to stay the night?” He's already skimming through the house in his head to where the extra blankets and pillows are stashed. He should have enough.

“No, just us.” Mike confirms, plopping down onto the carpet between the coffee table and fireplace across from the couch. “Me, Lucas, Will, and Dustin.”

Dustin nods, adding “And Eddie was going to stay a little longer to plan his own character, since he’s gonna be able to play in the next one.”

Steve turns back to Frank and the other older kid…Jeff…?, who’s now leaning around the doorway too. “You guys aren’t staying?”

“Nah man, we don’t wanna impose, thanks for having us though.” Maybe Jeff said.

“Yeah, of course,” Steve lifts Robin’s legs off his lap and stands, moving to see the three older Hellfire members off at the door. The Harringtons are polite hosts first and foremost. “Thanks for coming, guys.” What was he thanking them for? It wasn’t like they were here for him.

Jeff’s polite smile seemed to echo Steve’s thoughts, “Of course man, thanks for having us over.” “And for the pizza.” the shortest of the three says to the agreement of the others.

Jeff shakes Steve’s hand, the shortest one (Garby? George? It was something with a ‘G’) smiles again after pulling on his coat before heading out to Frank’s truck.

One of Frank’s solid hands lands on Steve’s shoulder in a friendly pat, and it’s almost enough to miss Eddie slipping out the door behind him into the slow fall of fat snowflakes outside. He was surprised to see a swath of snow had blanketed his front yard since the boys had been here.

Steve almost says something, but hears the guys exchanging their own farewells through the cracked door, so he turns back to the steps.

Will is already coming back down them, arms full of blankets and pillows, Lucas following behind him.

“I was about to go grab those myself–wait, did any of you dipshits call and ask your parents if you can stay? It’s a school night!” Steve follows the two into the living room.

The four of them immediately look cowed.

“OOohh you better get moving guys,” Robin teases.

“All of you up, you’re calling home.” Steve waves his arm as if to shove them all through the hall into the kitchen. “And no complaints, otherwise you’ll all be piling into the beemer before you can say demogorgon.”

Three of the four boys grumble their complaints as they pass him, “Hey, you’re lucky I’m even letting you stay. Seeing as how I’m the one that’s gonna have to drive you all to school in the morning.”

“You’ll already be driving Robin!” Mike complains

“Yeah but I have pretty privilege.” Robin calls from her spot on the couch.

Steve hears the door click closed, and looks over to see Eddie coming back in.

“Hey–” Eddie disappears down the hall and past the steps, only to reappear in the dining area through the other doorway under the steps. He immediately goes back to whatever papers he’s got on the table.

Steve looks down at Robin, who looks up at him at the same time, his confusion is reflected on her face.

He’s about to go talk to Eddie when Dustin calls for him from the kitchen.

-x-

“Steve! Mom wants to talk to you!”

Eddie hears Dustin call from the kitchen, and he stacks his pile of notes together, finally closing them up into his spiral notebook.

He pauses then. Just staring down at the disheveled wire binding.

He should go. No need to torture himself further, the kids will understand right? He’ll just make up something about his Uncle needing him home right away tomorrow morning or something.

Yeah. That should work, it’s not like anyone would call Wayn—

“So. You’re down in the dumps.”

Eddie’s shoulders crowd up against his ears at Robin’s arrival.

“I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.” She doesn’t believe him, of course.

He can hear the sound of Steve’s cheery voice from the kitchen, the tone he takes whenever he’s talking to one of the kids’ parents, and Eddie can feel his face screw up in pain.

“Ah hah!”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.” “You didn’t have to,” he bites out, “It’s not like you’re the one having to listen to your crush wax poetic about some girl he wants to kiss stupid.”

He turns to look at her. Robin’s face is blank for a moment, then a barely-there smug smirk appears on her lips.

Eddie’s vision goes scarlet. “You don’t get to be a shithead about it, Buckley. This is all your fuckin’ fault.” he spits out in a low whisper.

“My fault?” she echoes in the same tone, the smile falling from her face. “What’s my fault??”

“You’re the one who made me think I had a chance, weren’t you? The one who put up that fuckin’ mistletoe? Your fault.” He pokes her shoulder accusingly. His volume was getting higher, so he adjusts before continuing. “I should have known there was no chance; he’s the one who said ‘Now we’re even.’ after he kissed me in Melvald’s!”

“He said tha—”

Eddie was practically hissing at this point, just a steady stream of steam escaping him like a cartoon character. “He just felt bad, Robin! He just felt like he owed me something, there’s no goddamn feelings there!”

“Eddi–”

“I gotta go.”

He scoops up his notebook in one hand and snatches up his bag with the other, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Eddie, don’t go–”

He stalks down the hall past the steps away from her voice. He’s almost to his escape when Dustin cuts off his path from the kitchen doorway closest to the front door.

“Eddie, you’re leaving?”

“Sorry kid, gotta go.” He steps around him, “I forgot Wayne needs me home right away tomorrow morning.”

“But you were going to–”

“I’ll help you later, Dustin.” it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.

“Don’t be an ass, Eddie.”

“You know what? Bite me, Mike.” He really shouldn’t be taking his feelings out on the goblins.

“Fuck you, man.”

“Hey! Hey, what is happening right now?” Steve comes out into the hall then, making eye contact with Eddie for a fraction of a second before Eddie focuses on lacing his boots onto his feet.

“Eddie’s leaving,”

“...Okay? And?”

Alright, ouch.

He yanks his laces even tighter.

“And he said he would help us, and now he’s leaving.”

“Oh come off it Dustin, you heard what he said.” Lucas says, an eyeroll in his voice.

“What’d he say?” Eddie’s head told him that Steve’s voice sounded hurt, but best not to believe his head right now. “He said,” Eddie cuts in, “That his uncle needs him home in the morning.”

Steve’s soft “Oh.” was barely audible over the other three arguing back at him.

He yanks the last lace tight to his calf and stands sharply.

“Yeah, so, thanks for having us over, Harrington, I’ll see ya around.” he purposely doesn’t look up at Steve’s face as he says this, focusing on his notebook and bag.

His hand just reaches the doorknob when Robin’s voice calls out from the living room. “Don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, Eddie.”

Because his arm was already in motion when she started talking, the door opens in front of him just as she finishes.

The slow fat flakes from only, what, 10 minutes earlier? are now flying harsh and sideways across the light escaping Steve’s front door. It’s piling up out there, and fast. Bessie has braved many a winter in Hawkins, but he knows he’d get snowed in by time they got across town to the park.

Honestly though? Getting snowed in on the side of the road is seeming much more preferable than staying here after his little hissy fit.

“Eddie? Just stay here, man.” Steve sounds much closer than before, “I don’t want something to happen to you–” What Eddie can only assume is Steve’s hand falls to his shoulder, and he immediately turns away from it, closing the front door and letting his bag fall down his arm to the floor in the same motion as he turns into the kitchen without making eye contact with anyone.

The phone is still warm in his palm when he lifts it to his ear, punching Frank’s number into the buttons on the cradle.

In the handful of rings it takes for him to pick up, Eddie can hear the others whispering to each other, no doubt things like “What’s Eddie’s problem?”, “Why’s he being mean to Steve?”, “Why can’t he control his big gay feelings for his obviously straight friend?”.

Okay, maybe that last one was a bit much for a bunch of sophomores.

“Hello?”

“Frank, you’re home?”

“Uh. Yeah. You called me at home.”

“Well it’s snowin’ like shit outside now, I wanted to make sure you guys got back safe.”

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, I just got in when I heard the phone. Everyone’s home safe.”

“Alright good, I’m gonna stay here at Harrington’s; talk to you later man, I gotta call Wayne.

“Okay Ed, see ya’.”

Eddie jabs his finger into the phone’s switch to end the call, then starts to dial the trailer. Wayne should be just about to leave for work.

“Y’ello?”

“Hey Wayne, it’s me.” Eddie says, turning his face away automatically when someone shuffles into the kitchen.

“Ed, where’ya at?”

“I’m still at Steve’s. It really started to come down so I don’t want to risk driving home tonight.”

“Good. You stay righ’ there, son.”

“Are you still going in?”

Wayne hums in agreement, “Got to.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks, “Wayne–”

“Now don’ you worry ‘bout me boy, I woke up early enough to get the chains on the truck.”

“Fine, fine. Be careful, old man.”

“You got it kid. I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

He hangs the phone back into it’s cradle on the wall feeling much looser now; he’d almost forgotten why he was so wound up, but seized up again as soon as he turned.

Steve was standing at the stove, stirring something that was obscured by his torso. “You want some hot chocolate too, Eds?” he asks, not turning from the stove.

Eddie gives him a short “No.” and goes back out into the hall to unlace his boots once again.

He wanders back into the living room with his bag and plops down in the recliner, pulling out his monster manual and his smaller, less pulverized notebook, the one with the basics of his next character fleshed out in it.

A tiefling bard, one he had imagined as having such thick skin on him that no matter what snide remarks, insults, and bashes to his character were thrown at him, he’d only shrug them off. Something real Eddie’d love to do. A charming, charismatic bard that got all who heard his songs to overlook his hellish appearance.

Wouldn’t that be something.

While he’s mulling over what name to give his bard (he’s waffling between Zarlech and Erron), Robin appears, settling in on the corner seat of the couch beside him.

He tenses up again, thinking she’s going to try talking to him about the too-good-for-this-world man in the yellow sweater in the next room, but she doesn’t. She only sits down and starts back in on the thick Vogue magazine she’d been swiping though since he and his troupe arrived.

Steve comes in with two mugs of cocoa not long after, walking to Eddie first with a soft smile.

“I told you I didn’t want any.”

He regrets his tone as soon as the words pass his lips; Steve looks stunned, the boys’ idle chatter from the coffee table dies off immediately.

Eddie’s face burns in embarrassment, but before he can even open his mouth, Robin says “I’ll take his,” and reaches for the steaming pale yellow mug.

He passes it over, and stands there for a moment with the other mug before turning and handing it over to Will, the closest to him of the four on the floor.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose briefly, then turns out of the room. Robin’s up and out of the room not a moment later, saying, “I’ll go help him with you threes’.”

There’s a beat of silence, then: “What. In the actual fuck. Is your problem, man?”

Eddie turns to face the voice; all four teens are staring at him, each one with a different level of incredulousness on their faces. Mike’s is the worst, looking at Eddie like he just killed his dog. And he’s about to get revenge for it.

“Who do you think you are to talk to him like that, huh?” Mike seethes at him, “This is his fucking house, and you’re gonna sit here and be rude as all hell just because he doesn’t like you back?”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Eddie hears his voice echo his thoughts. “How do you—”

“Steve puts up with enough shit from us as it is, he doesn’t need it from you too.”

There’s surprise on the other threes’ faces, but Eddie’s got an inkling it’s surprise at this coming from Mike and not from the content of the outburst.

“Uh..”

“Mike’s right, Eddie. You’re our friend, but Steve’s our…” Lucas trails off.

“He’s our Steve.” Will says resolutely.

“He’s our Steve.” Lucas agrees, “And we won’t hesitate to drop you like a dead fish over him.”

Eddie turns his gaze to Dustin, not looking forward to what he might see in his closest butthead’s expression.

Dustin’s face is set in determined lines, and he meets Eddie’s gaze solidly. “I love you both as brothers, man. Don’t make me choose between you two…Though I will choose Steve.”

Robin returns before Eddie can formulate any sort of response to..all that.., pressing a steaming mug of cocoa into each of the boys’ waiting hands.

She came in with four though, and brings the last one to Eddie. “Leave him be for a minute. I’m sure he will be fine, but he’s upset.” He takes the mug from her and she squashes back down into her abandoned seat with a sigh. “Which usually means he’s going to be doing laundry until I make him go to sleep.”

Eddie spends the next 25 minutes trying to think about what he’s going to say to Steve, what he’s going to tell him was the reason for his bullshit attitude.

For a solid three, he seriously thinks about telling Steve the truth, that he got all pissy at the thought of him sucking face with whoever it is he’s got a crush on, but that’s really not fair to Steve..or to this mystery girl.

At 30, Robin nudges his arm with her bony elbow, so he leaves his book and still-unnamed character on the chair and goes to find Steve.

He follows the sound of music coming from off the kitchen, stopping just outside the door when the low sound of Steve singing along to ‘The First Nöel’ playing softly through the radio.

It had to be that damn song, didn’t it?

…Okay, maybe it’s not so bad if Steve’s the one singing it..

He steps into the narrow room once the radio host comes back on. It’s small, but there’s more than enough room for the machine’s doors to open and to manuver a basket around in here, and there’s a side door out to the yard at the end of the room; there’s neat-ish piles of clothes in front of the washer and overflowing a basket under the dryer door, a few loose dust bunnies and used dryer sheets litter the corners.

Steve’s standing at the dryer, pawing through a seemingly freshly cleaned pile of towels on its top.

He glances up at him briefly when he enters, going back to the pile immediately, “Eddie, hey, sorry for sulking off like that. I just..got into my head a bit.” Even Steve sounded like he didn’t believe what he was saying. “I’ll be back out in a minute, just gotta take care of this load..”

“Hey, it’s alright man. It’s not all on you, you know.” Steve’s hands stop when he looks over, dropping themselves and a half-folded towel back onto the pile. “Look, I’m sorry Steve. My brain is weird sometimes too; I had some of my own shit pop back up for no fuckin’ reason at all and it just..really threw me. I didn’t mean to take it out on you like that, I swear.”

The truth. For the most part at least. He really didn’t mean to snap at Steve like that over fuckin’ hot chocolate.

“Really, it’s okay Eddie. You did say that you didn’t want any.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t give me the right to be an ass to you.” Eddie ducks his head in embarrassment.

“Thank you,” Steve finally says. “I appreciate it, Eds.”

Relief floods through him at the nickname, he meets Steve’s gaze again. “Do you uhm, need help or anything?”

Steve smiles softly, “No, I really do just need to take care of this last load and I’ll be back out there.”

A low howl of wind from outside the side door cuts him off before he can reply.

Eddie groans, “Well that sounds like it’ll be fun…”

All in all, it was fun.

After going back to the living room and confirming with the others that he did, in fact, apologize to their Steve, Eddie sat back down with his notebook and got back to work.

He was slowly absorbed into the boys’ huddle and by time Steve comes back in, all five of them are heavily debating what alignment Zardok the bard should be.

Not 30 minutes later, the lights flicker off above them.

“Aw hell.” Steve mutters from the sofa.

“I’ll start running the tub.” Eddie sighs, pushing himself off the floor and waving his arms in front of him so he doesn’t run into any walls on his way.

“Why would you run the tub?” Dustin asks, incredulous.

“You fill the tub with water in case the pipes freeze while the power’s out. That way you still have water to flush the toilets and get clean and stuff.”

“Thank you Will, exactly.” Eddie says. Smart kid.

Damn. Why doesn’t he carry a mini flashlight again?

“That’s a thing?” Robin asks, then clicks on a flashlight. Where in the hell’d she get that?

“You don’t need to do that, Eds. The place is plenty well insulated.” Steve assures, stopping him from leaving, “The pipes won’t freeze, I promise.”

“....Lucky bastard.”

Dustin goes to the opposite end of Robin’s couch and fishes another light from between the cushions.

He and the other three make quick work of arranging their blankets and pillows there in the living room, Dustin’s light only going so far as to help continue their brainstorming.

Steve and Robin leave them to it, and lead Eddie upstairs with their light.

One round of fighting off nightmares later, he’s dragged into wakefulness with the smell of cinnamon.

He re-cinches Steve’s lended sweats around his hips and trudges down the stairs.

There are snores still reverberating from the living room, and Steve is standing in front of the stove flipping something.

A square glass pan with an inch of some sort of mixture in it was sitting on the island across from him along with an open bag of bread and half a dozen eggs still in their carton.

The floor under his feet squeaks when he stops in the doorway, alerting Steve to his presence.

He glances over his shoulder at him, then goes back to the stove to flip something again. “Hey Eds, just makin’ some breakfast, you want something?” He turns to him fully then, leaning his elbows onto a clear patch of the island countertop.

Steve must take his sleepy silence as confusion.

“Oh! The power came back on last night. Well, er..” he looks back at the stove’s clock, blinking 5:08 out at them, “Early this morning, actually.”

Huh. Guess it was confusion.

“Anyway, you want some french toast?” That explains the cinnamon. “Or I can whip you up some eggs…?”

“No, no, french toast is great.” his voice comes out scratchy with disuse. “Thanks Stevie.”

Steve smiles and turns back to the stove, “The coffee machine is on, if you want a cup; I’ll have a plate ready for you in just a couple minutes.”

Eddie wakes up slowly with his coffee, watching as Steve resets the clock on the oven to his watch.

“It’s 8:30 already? Shouldn’t we get the kids up for school?” Holy shit. Who knew Eddie Munson would ever sound so much like a mom.

“Nah,” Steve waves him off, “I was up with my alarm to get them up and ready, but when I got down here, Claudia called. The school called a snow day.”

Steve passes him a plate of toast, already smothered with syrup. “You want powdered sugar?”

“Ooh fancy, fancy,” Eddie laughs, adding a haughty accent to his next words, “Bring me my powdered confectionary Steeves, I wish to dust it upon my imported french breakfast.”

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but passes over a short ceramic container of the stuff.

Lucas is the one up next, going to the coffee machine before acknowledging either of them.

He sips on his cup without adding anything to it, the heathen. Eddie’s own cup was nearly drowned out with milk and sugar.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the house wakes up and wanders to the kitchen, each getting a plate stacked high with sweet cinnamon-y goodness.

Dustin, Mike, and Will are sitting at the little breakfast nook table in the kitchen’s front window, getting steadily louder about their plans for the near eight inches of snow that’s blanketed across Steve’s front yard.

“You’re going to help me shovel it out so I can get you free-loaders home as soon as possible. That’s what you’re going to do.” Steve insists, pushing a plate of toast in front of Robin, the last to get up.

So that’s what originally got them all outside, but two shovels can only get two of them so far with the driveway before any of the other five start fucking around.

The first blow comes from Mike, a well thrown snowball hitting dead center on the back of Will’s head.

Then Lucas lobbed one aimed for Dustin but hit Mike right on the nose.

Will’s shovel was abandoned, teams were made, and Steve was left shoveling alone when the snowballs really started flying.

Robin, Lucas, and Will booked it for the bushes on one side of the yard, immediately packing snow up between them and into gaps in the branches to protect them from the flurry.

And of course, the only other good cover on the other end of the yard from them was Steve’s beemer, so Eddie, Mike, and Dustin dove behind the newly uncovered tires, frantically packing snowballs from the untouched drift under Steve’s car.

“Really?” The three of them look up at the sound of Steve’s voice.

Fuck, he looks so adorable all bundled up like this. Nose and cheeks bitten red with the cold and with the exertion of shoveling, scarf tucked around his neck and into his jacket, the dark blue mittens, one on his hip and one over the handle of the shovel, the matching knit cap—even as he glares disapprovingly at them.

“So you’re not gonna help me, and also subject my baby to enemy fire? Not cool, guys.”

Mike lobs a ball across the yard.

“Join us then! Help us defeat those heathens and we’ll help you with the driveway.”

A snowball smacks into the back passenger side window of the car

“No.”, Steve says with finality and goes back to shoveling.

Another ball soars over the roof of the car and splats across the cleared-ish pavement behind them.

“Awe, you’re no fun Stevie.” Eddie complains, though he’s definitely not complaining about the view he’s got right now.

Dustin sends one back, mumbling out a “Damn! So close..” soon after.

“Bite me.”

Not 10 seconds later, a blast of snow smacks the back of Steve’s head.

Everyone freezes.

-x-

He turns slowly back around to face the three snow-covered idiots crouched behind his car.

All three stare wide-eyed at him, faces flushed with cold.

Mike and Dustin's hands raise at the exact same time, both pointing at Eddie.

He can tell from Dustin’s face that it was definitely him that threw the thing at his head, but the panicked, adorable, wide-eyed look Eddie has at the accusation is worth playing along for.

“What?! You traitors!” He scrambles up and back, glancing over and managing to duck a snowball aimed for his head by Robin, “Stevie, sweetheart, darling, you know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Do I?” He growls out playfully, advancing on the doe-eyed menace.

“Yes! You know I love you, Steve, I would never betray you like that.”

The words, even said teasingly as they are, make Steve’s stomach swoop heavily. He’s lucky his face was already red from the wind.

“I don’t know, Eds,” He holds out one mittened hand to Mike as he passes between the two boys. He drops one into his palm. “Sounds like something you would do.”

He raises the snowball and yells out, chasing Eddie around the front of his car to the hoots and hollers of the others jeering him on.

Eddie is not a good runner, and his Reeboks slip and slide as they try to carve a path through the fresh snow in the yard.

He’s quick though, and doges out of Steve’s reach when he almost catches the back of his borrowed puffer coat, launching off toward the side of the house instead.

Oh no.

“Wait, Eddie! There’s a—” Eddie’s dark head of curls disappears under his feet as he slips off over the side of the hill. “Hill—shit!”

Steve spoke too soon even for himself, unable to stop his momentum before he slips down the hill too.

Snow pushes itself under the back of his jacket down the first half of his slide, then one of his feet gets stuck up under him and he tumbles ass-over-tea kettle the rest of the way.

“OOF—” he lands on something much more solid than snow at the bottom.

Eddie’s cackling laughter bursts out from under him, his chest heaving with it under Steve’s own.

“Eddie, you okay, man?”

Steve pushes up on his hands, one on either side of Eddie’s torso, to look down at him properly.

He lost the red hat he’d grabbed when they came outside earlier, gone to the snow somewhere, and his hair is fanned in an almost perfect halo around his head.

The red spots on his face show off the flakes that fall onto them briefly before they melt under the heat of his skin, his mouth open wide and his eyes crinkled shut in laughter.

Steve was already head over fuckin’ heels for this man, but…oh.

Oh.

Eddie has laugh lines.

They’re so deep already, crinkled up at the corners of his eyes, but for a split second, Steve can’t help but wonder how much more they’d be in 10, 15, 20 years in the future.

And he realizes in that instant that wants so badly to be there to watch them grow longer.

look out, it's noelle coming in hot with the Oh. Oh. moment!

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chiaraanatra · 2 years ago

Text

You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' | Part 2

Summary: Goose meets you at the Miramar Officers’ Club and after a drink and a brief conversation he wished would never end he believes that he’ll never see you again. Little did he know while this may have been your first meeting, it would not be your last.

Warning: Swearing, boys being stupid, me knowing nothing about how radar works, Goose having some suggestive thoughts

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Goose is a leg man I will not be taking any questions on the matter. We are all imagining that Carol is living her best life somewhere far from San Diego. I love her and Goose and refuse to kill her off or have either one of them go through a divorce. Sorry not sorry to Bradley for wiping your existence from this fictional plane. Also I know nothing about planes, aviation, engineering, or the Navy, I'm just a Goose girly at heart.

《 part 1 || part 3 || part 4 || epilogue 》《 m.list || ao3 》

Maverick and Goose stood stiff as boards against one of the joint naval offices. Goose could feel himself sweating through his khaki uniform as he listened to an irate Air Boss Johnson scream at Commander Mike ‘Viper’ Metcalf. “One of your snot-nosed jockeys did a flyby on my tower at over 400 knots! I want somebody's butt! I want it now! I've had it!”

Johnson burst through the office doors just in time to knock into a Navy boy carrying a tray of coffee. “God damn it! That's twice! I want some butts!” He screamed as he made his way down the hall.

Viper and Jester emerged from the office. Viper let out a sigh, “Well, that'll just about cover the flybys.”

Lieutenant Commander Heatherly looked over at the boys, “Follow me.”

The walk down the hall felt like miles. Nick was used to Pete’s antics, they had been flying together for years, but sometimes it felt like Mav didn’t understand what was really at stake with all this. Goose needed this, not the Top Gun trophy, if Nick was honest, he could give a fuck about the trophy, but if this went south, the two could get kicked out of Top Gun, or worse, lose their wings and be grounded.

The four walked into Commander Metcalf’s office. Metcalf grabbed a manila folder from his desk, before standing to look out his office window. Mav and Goose stood at attention in front of the commander’s desk mentally preparing for the ass-chewing they were about to receive.

“Gentlemen, you had a hell of a first day.” Viper glanced out his office window. “The hard deck for this hop was 10,000 feet. You knew it, you broke it. You followed Commander Heatherly below after he lost sight of you and called ‘no joy.’ Why?” Viper’s voice was steady and calm, too calm for Goose’s liking.

“Sir!” Mav looked straight ahead, “I had Commander Heatherly in my sights. He saw me move in for the kill. He then proceeded below the hard deck. We weren't below 10,000 for more than a few seconds. I had the shot, there was no danger, so I took it.”

God damn it, Mav…

Commander Metcalf turned towards the boys. “You took it... and broke a major rule of engagement!” The rise in his voice made Goose want to curl up and die as he watches the commander walk towards them. “Then you broke another one with that circus stunt flyby.” Viper let out a sigh as he looked back out his office window. “Lieutenant Mitchell... Top Gun rules exist for your safety and that of your team. They are not flexible, nor am l. Either obey them, or you are history. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” Stated Mav, his eyes remaining focused on the window in front of him.

Metcalf took the seat in front of his desk before dismissing the young aviators.

Goose followed closely behind Maverick, closing the Commander’s office door after him. He let his hand come down a bit harder than he might have intended on the shorter pilot’s shoulder, “I really enjoyed that, Mav. Thanks a lot.” He leaned up against the wall, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Holy shit! Maybe I could learn how to be a truck driver.” He dropped his hands and looked back at Pete. “You have the number of that driving school on TV? Truck Master, I think it is. I might need that…”

Before he could spiral any further, he was brought out of his thoughts by a voice as sweet as honey. “Lieutenant.”

The two men turned to look down the hall. Goose was greeted by a beautiful sight. His eyes widened as he took in your form, making their way from your heels that clicked on the tile floor to your stocking-clad legs that went on for miles. When they made their way to the first of your outfit, Goose couldn’t help but wish your skirt was a little shorter and there was one less button done on your blouse.

Goose shut his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Get it together, she’s your instructor!

As you came closer to the two-man Maverick turned to his RIO. “Okay, well,” he dusted off the shoulders of Goose’s khaki uniform. “Don’t be nervous. You look great, dear.”

“Thanks, honey.” Goose turned to you as Maverick made his way down the hall.

You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction. But quickly regained your professional composure. “That pilot of yours is quite the troublemaker. I could hear Johnson yelling from my office down the hall.”

“Mav’s not one to think before he acts. It’s bitten me in the ass more times than I would like to admit.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about his hotshot antics. Charlie was annoyed, to say the least, after finding out that the two of you were the famous MIG insulter. Then again, judging by the back and forth with Charlie this morning, you seem to enjoy yourself at times.

“Oh, you heard all that...?” Goose looked down at his boots gently taping his foot.

“Bits and pieces to say the least,” You notice him looking everywhere but you. “Look, Charlie and I are instructors, we see 20 new hotshots every eight weeks.” If you were being honest you weren’t completely sure what you were saying. You are his instructor the last thing you should be thinking about is flirting with one of your students, let alone thinking about how good he looks in that khaki uniform. “That being said…”

Goose couldn’t bring himself to look up from his boots, it may have been disrespectful in some right, but he wasn’t sure where to look at this felt like the safest bet. His thoughts were running a mile a minute. Here it comes. Yeah, we can forget all about last night and I promise to think only wholesome thoughts when looking at you-

“I would love to see that MiG polaroid sometime.” You smiled up as the taller man finally met your gaze. You swear you could fall for those amber eyes even though you both knew that could never happen.

Goose smiled at your comment. “I’ll admit if this top gun thing doesn’t work out, I could always fall on photography as a backup,” he joked.

“Don’t forget your singing career. With that, you’re practically a triple threat, Lieutenant.

“Please, call me Nick. At least in casual conversation.”

“Are you anticipating more casual conversations with me Lieutenant?” Before he could answer you looked down at your watch noticing the time. “Well, Nick I should get going. I’m sure I will be seeing you.”

The way his name fell from your lips was heavenly. Unfortunately, before he could form a cohesive sentence you were already making your way down the hall.

The next day the Pilots and RIOs were split, with pilots going with Charlie to discuss the maneuvering capabilities of the F-18 and RIOs going with you to discuss radar systems and running hypotheticals drills.

You were leaning on the desk in front and center of the small lecture-style room. You could hear the ROIs down the hall before they made their entrance into the room. Marcus ‘Sundown’ Williams, Leonard ‘Wolfman’ Wolfe, Ron "Slider" Kerner, and Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw. The boys took their seats as you began.

Goose couldn’t help but stare at you as you began talking about radar systems that he knew like the back of his hand. He listened to you talk about the F14’s APG-65 system and its uses. He couldn’t deny that you knew what you were talking about, he could tell that this introduction was to spell that out to the others. He thought about how often people might not take you as seriously as they might a man in your same position and how the thought of someone disrespecting you ticked him off.

“-but you all knew that.” Your pause brought Nick out of his thoughts to focus back on your lecture. “To an extent, a raid assessment allows radar separation of closely spaced targets. While these are advanced systems, and ones far better than what we were using 3 years ago, they are not perfect. If a second MiG is flying close enough below the first, the APG won’t be able to detect the second aircraft until it has diverged from its partner.” You paused for a moment to glance at Goose. “I’m sure some of you have seen this firsthand.” You tried not to maintain eye contact with Goose for too long, however, his eyes never left your form.

Your lecture came to a close. You stood at the head of the desk gathering some files. You hadn’t noticed that someone had stayed behind until you heard a voice from behind you. “You really know your stuff.” Goose was leaning against the railing in front of the first row of lecture seating.

“I sure hope so, I was told I was hired for that very reason.” You said with a smile before turning to face the tall aviator. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Goose looked down at his boots before looking back up to meet your gaze, “I wanted to ask, why didn’t you tell me who you were the other night.”

“I remember telling you my name. However, I may have left out the Top Gun instructor part.” You leaned against the desk and watched as Nick made his way close to you.

“A small detail. I can see how it could be overlooked.” He joked. He stopped just in of you, watching you look up at him. He couldn’t help as less-than-appropriate thoughts wandered into his mind. He shouldn’t be flirting with you, but you weren’t exactly making any attempts to stop him.

“A small oversight.” You could feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. You bite your cheek in an attempt to subdue the smile that was attempting to make its way across your lips. You couldn’t deny that Nick Bradshaw was a handsome man. His dirty blonde hair, his amber eyes, his voice that you knew could make any woman melt.

“I’ll be honest… I’m very tempted to ask you to dinner.”

Your eyes left his as you scribbled something on a piece of paper, “I usually make it a point to not date my students, Lieutenant.”

For a moment Nick thought he had crashed and burned, but then your words hit him, “usually?”

You folded the quarter sheet of paper twice, “usually.” You smile up at him before standing and gathering your things. Before making your exit, you placed the small note into his breast pocket, taping it lightly.

Nick watched as you exited the room. As clique as it was, he hated to see you go but couldn’t complain about watching you leave. When you were out the door he quickly grabbed the note out of his pocket

Dinner tonight 6:00 102 Laurel Beach Don’t be late!

“Holy shit…” Goose looked at his watch, it was 3:30 now. He grabbed his jacket and ran out into the hallway only to be met with Mav and Ice having a dick-measuring contest just down the hall. “Mav!” he waved his pilot down.

“Might want to run along to mother Goose,” Ice laughs.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have to find Slider and make sure he’s not lost in the hangar again.” Mav flashed the taller pilot a smile before making his way down the hall to his RIO.

“You never gonna believe this,” he hands Mav the note.

Mav looks at the note, “wow, Goose, your handwriting has improved. But you didn’t have to write me a note to get me to go to dinner with you.”

Goose let out a fake laugh placing his hand over his heart, “haha! Oh, Mav, you kill me!” He snatches the note out of the shorter man’s hands. “It’s from Stinger.”

“Bullshit!”

Nick held up three fingers, “scouts honor!”

Mav looked at his watch, “You better get going. You definitely need a shower. Also please don’t wear one of your stupid Hawaiian shirts…”

“What? Ladies love my Hawaiian shirts!”

“Sure, they do.” Mav rolled his eyes watching his friend practically run down the hallway. “And use protection!” He yells.

Goose turns to run backward and flashes a middle finger and a smile to Mav before making his way out of the building.

Part 3

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2 & @saturnsbabe69

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

#top gun x reader #top gun 1986 #nick goose bradshaw x reader #nick bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #top gun #pete mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #ron slider kerner #rick jester heatherly #anthony edwards #top gun fanfiction #goose imagine #goose x reader #mike viper metcalf #marcus sundown williams #leonard wolfman wolfe #no beta we die like men

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calebs-hangout-corner · 1 year ago

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Mike, Vanessa, And The Boy From The Time Traveling Ballpit Chapter One: Introducing: Gregory

Vanessa finds a boy in the ballpit at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, now she and Mike have to find a way to get him back into his time.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #mike schmidt #vanessa shelly #schmelly #fnaf gregory #no beta we die like william afton

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sunny-deejee · 2 years ago

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/43948737/chapters/110504115

SECOND STRANGER THINGS FIC RAHHHHHHHH

#REPOST CUZ I PUT THE WROGN LINK LMFAO #NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN #I BARELY PROOFREAD TOO SO !!!#I ALSO HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO WRITE MIKE WHEELER #I ALSO HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO WRITE ROMANCE #I ALSO MADE THE PLOT UP AS I WENT ALONG #TAKE ALL OF THIS AS YOU WILL !!!#stranger things #byler

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hellfirenacht · 1 month ago

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Saving Throws

Fic Summary: Hellfire is your favorite place to be, but why is it so hard to show up when the sun sets at 4 pm?

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, Seasonal Depression, Hurt/Comfort, suicidal ideation if you squint but Reader does NOT want to die and is not actively suicidal, drug use, smoking, no use of y/n, reader is not described, assumed fem!reader, happy ending, SFW

No Beta, we live and we laugh and we love.

Word Count: 4.8k

Master List

It wasn’t even 5 pm, and it was already dark outside. You hated it. Stuck all day in school, too cold to be outside during lunch, and by the time you made it home any daylight had already faded over the horizon. On the weekends you could at least enjoy sitting by the window, taking in as much daylight as you could, and when school let out during the week, there was at least that precious 2 hours before the darkness came.

Fridays were the hardest, even though they shouldn’t be. Fridays used to be the day you looked forward to most because that was Hellfire. It was the one day you were guaranteed to see Eddie and the rest of your friends. You hated that you were moved to a different lunch period.

It was grey and gloomy out, the leaves on the trees that had brought you joy just a few short weeks before were now empty and dead. It was cold. There was no sunlight this Friday.

You still sat outside, hoping that a shock of cold for a few minutes would snap you out of the fog that had been creeping in the back of your mind for the last few weeks. You knew it was coming, inevitable, but it never got easier. You wished there was something more you could do to slow it.

October was a pleasant distraction, and usually you could combat the worst of it until January. Holidays and Hellfire were the best things to hold onto until March.

Today wasn’t one of those days. You didn’t want to go to Hellfire, you didn’t think you’d be able to add any modifiers to your ability score. You didn’t think you could find your character voice or pick a fight with Gareth or team up with Jeff.

In your state, you felt like you might just let the party down. Let Eddie down.

That was the worst part. You could handle the rest of your friends being disappointed in you, but Eddie was different. If you missed Hellfire, there wasn’t any guarantee that you’d come back and have your character still be alive. Most days you loved that he was a bit ruthless and sadistic as a DM. Most days, you cackled as he threatened to off someone’s character for being late or dipping out early or missing Hellfire completely. Most days you loved him- his DM style, that is.

Most days.

Today wasn’t most days.

It was now two minutes to 3:00 pm. If you hurried now, you could make it without a lecture. If you were five minutes late, you could blame it on going to the bathroom and Eddie would give you a look but wouldn’t hound you too bad. Later than that...

You had never been later than that. You had only ever been late once, and Eddie had forgiven you by giving you disadvantage on a roll that caused your character damage but ultimately didn’t kill them.

It took you five minutes to force your body to move back inside, your whole body covered in goosebumps from the cold. You pulled your jacket back on as you trudged towards the storage room where Hellfire met every week. You walked down the stairs where Eddie was just now starting in on his opening monologue. Ever the professional, he shot you a look, but didn’t stop.

You hated that look, you hated the idea of letting Eddie down, ever.

The game passed by in a haze. Even Eddie’s antics and loud voice couldn’t fully keep your attention today. You felt like you spent most of the time telling yourself to focus rather than actually focusing. It was fine, Doug and Mike took charge of the dungeon and you were happy to let them have the spotlight. You hoped you looked more like you were focusing hard on the battles and strategies over spacing out.

The relief of the meeting being over was washed away by the dark parking lot, the sun long gone despite the early hours. Everyone else was chatting excitedly about the dungeon and you trailed behind, readying yourself to say goodbye before heading to your car.

Everyone was loitering around Eddie’s van while he pretended to be annoyed as he smoked a cigarette. You liked these moments, where everyone was together and you didn’t feel as though the pressure was weighing down on you. Outside of Hellfire, even if it was dark outside you were starting to feel a little lighter, the fog in your mind clearing just slightly.

You took a hit off of Eddie’s cigarette. You didn’t normally smoke but the burn in your lungs at least helped you focus. You didn’t even mind it when you were teased for coughing so much.

One by one everyone else was picked up or drifted to their own cars, leaving you and Eddie. You were about to say goodbye, when he spoke up.

“So, where were you?” Eddie asked, dropping the cigarette and crushing it out with his boot. In the silence of the night, you could hear the slight hiss of the embers dying under his old Reeboks.

“Huh?” you asked, head snapping up to meet his eyes. Eddie crossed his arms and leaned against the van.

“You were late today, and I was benevolent enough to let it slide.” he said. “So, where were you?”

You wanted to tell him that you were only a little late, but you didn’t have the energy to challenge him. Normally you enjoyed the occasional argument or play fight with Eddie but today you didn’t have the energy. That spark was as cold as the smushed cigarette.

“I was in the bathroom. Made the mistake of eating the surprise casserole during lunch.” you shrugged. You didn’t want to lie to him. You hated lying to him. But there was no good way to explain that the reason you were late was because you had to convince yourself to go. There was no way Eddie could understand, and you didn’t have the words to make him understand.

How the hell could you explain that the place you wanted to be most was also the place that something deep inside you couldn’t bare to face. You hadn’t done anything wrong. Your friends hadn’t done anything wrong. Eddie hadn’t done anything wrong. So why did everything have to feel so wrong?

Eddie seemed to accept your excuse for now. He clapped you on the back, which cleared the haze in your mind for just long enough to make your heart beat faster and for a moment you could think again.

“Don’t be late again.” he said sternly, an evil glint in his eyes that usually made you melt. “Or else.”

“I won’t.” you said, wishing you knew if you were lying or not.

You kept your promise through November. Sacrificing those few moments of Friday sunlight to go directly to the club room after the bell rang. You were still dragging your feet, convincing yourself that you wanted to be with your friends as your shoes squeaked on the linoleum tile.

That was the worst part, being at Hellfire did make you feel better once you were there. But getting there was harder than actually coming to school. You still weren’t fully alert during club, but at least you were there. As long as you were there then you wouldn’t be in trouble and your friends would still like you and Eddie would still want you around-

Why was he giving you that look? Eddie walked into the club and had a disapproving look on his face. Anxiety flooded your system, washing away the haze as alarm bells rang in your head. You were here, right? It was Hellfire and you were on time, early even! You were here before Eddie. You had your character sheet, you had your figurine, you weren’t sitting in his chair-

“Where’s your shirt?” Eddie asked, and you felt your face flush of all blood. Your shirt...?

To your horror, you looked down at your shirt. It was an old faded t-shirt with the logo long since gone. It was soft, and usually worn for bed-

You hadn’t fully gotten dressed this morning. You slept in this shirt and had just thrown on a hoodie over it, not even thinking about the fact that Hellfire was today. You were out of uniform.

Fuck.

When you forgot your homework during class, you didn’t care if teachers gave you that disapproving look. You could block out your peers jeering at you for what you wore, they didn’t matter.

None of them mattered, but Eddie did.

“....Fuck.” you said, mostly to yourself, staring at the offending and comfortable material.

You expected him to lecture you, like everyone else. You braced yourself for him to tell you to leave and come back when you knew how to dress yourself again. A small part of your brain almost hoped that he would.

Instead he just gave you that manic, evil grin that you usually loved. You knew what was going to happen for the rest of the day.

“I hope you’re feeling lucky today, because I’m not going easy on you.” Eddie said. “In fact, I think today I might play favorites.”

Being Eddie’s favorite in Hellfire could be a death sentence if you weren’t careful. Being his favorite meant that he was going to pay special attention to you. Eddie didn’t often play favorites, but the last time he did it ended in Doug starting a new character sheet while rolling his saving throws. He was saved by a lucky 13 roll.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” you said, louder to show your disdain for this turn of events. Eddie only winked at you and started setting up the table and his area.

One by one, everyone showed up while you looked over your character sheet as if you were cramming for a test. Normally you loved any attention that Eddie gave you, but right now it felt like too much as you scrambled to try and remember what the hell was even going on in the campaign.

You pretended to have fun, swallowing down any panic you were feeling during the game. Even though all you wanted to do was go home and sleep and cry and disappear until Spring. How were you supposed to finish the campaign like this?

Eddie was picking on you the whole game, and you wanted to be mad at him. You wanted to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone and wasn’t it good enough that you were even there? But you couldn’t, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it because he wasn’t actually mad at you. You could see it in his eyes that there was nothing malicious behind that grin. This was a punishment, yes, but he wasn’t doing this to hurt you.

A few weeks ago you would have loved this, loved being picked on by him and having his attention and investment in your character. You would have been locked in, challenging him and pushing him as much as he was pushing you, cracking jokes and batting your eyelashes at him for fun.

You miss who you were a few weeks ago.

You had been fighting on equal footing, but now you felt backed into a corner. With a final push, and with an assist from Jeff, you managed to get your final attack in before the battle ended. You would be worse for wear next session, but alive.

By the time you all walked out of the school that evening, you felt extra drained. You had fun, you think. You should have had fun. Hellfire was always fun.

Something heavy fell on your shoulders and you made a noise and swatted in front of your face as Eddie snapped his fingers and smacked your face around a little. You felt the snout of that damned pig ring poke into your cheek.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” He asked, his arm swung around your shoulders as if it were the most casual thing in the world. The weight of his arm dragged you out of the clouds and back down to earth.

“No one’s home.” you deadpanned, but you couldn’t stop the corners of your mouth from pulling up slightly. This was Eddie now, not the Freak, not the Dungeon Master, not the guitar lead of Corroded Coffin. No pressure.

“Should I tape a note to your face if I want to leave a message?” he asked.

“No, I’ve seen your sticky notes, they don’t stick.”

“That’s what happens when you drop them in slush.” Eddie shrugged. “Now, what the hell is wrong with you?”

That was a loaded question. “Alphabetically or chronologically? Actually scratch that, we don’t have time to get into that.” You laughed, hoping he’d drop it.

You felt Eddie’s hand move around your back from one shoulder to the other. He moved in front of you to make you face him completely. His free hand rested on your other shoulder, his head tilted down slightly. His head always tilted down like that when he was being serious. Shit, he wasn’t going to drop it.

“Is something going on?” he asked. “You were at the table but...” Eddie seemed to struggle with how to phrase it. “You’re phoning it in.” he finally settled on.

You hated disappointing Eddie. He was one of your best friends, and you admired him so much. How were you supposed to answer him without feeling like a massive failure?

Eddie had seen right through you, had noticed that your head and heart wasn’t in the game. Despite his looks, Eddie was always so intuitive about how people were feeling. He noticed when things were off.

This isn’t how you wanted him to notice you. It was ironic really, ever since you joined Hellfire all you wanted was Eddie’s attention, to catch his eye. Now that you had it, you wish he’d look anywhere else. This wasn’t the you that you wanted him to see.

“Finals.” you said, giving the canned answer that you had given to the guidance counselor early in the week. “Classes are kicking my ass and I’ve just been a bit off.” The counselor had bought it, and if Eddie didn’t you could blame stomach issues or-

“You sure?” Eddie asked, frowning. He was still holding your shoulders. “It’s just- it’s been weeks, man. You’re barely there.”

“There’s nothing wrong.” you tried to assure him. It was true, and that was the worst part. There was no reason why you should feel this way. Things weren’t bad at home, things were fine at school. The worst thing that’s happened in the past few weeks was today's encounter with an owlbear. “I’m just really tired lately. Stress. Can’t sleep.”

Eddie looked at you hard for a few seconds before nodding, finding the answer satisfactory. He let go of your shoulders and you immediately missed the pressure. He opened the back of his van and dug through a small mountain of clutter and pulled out his lunchbox.

“No, Eddie, it’s fine. I don’t have any money right now.” you said as he pulled out a small baggie. He tossed it to you anyway.

“Pay me back later.” he said. “Ten.”

It was a discount, he must be actually worried about you. The fog in your mind told you to take the weed and go home. To smoke and sleep and lay around for the next few days and wallow in whatever feeling this was.

It took you longer than it should to force your lips to say “I suck at rolling.”

And that’s how the two of you ended up at the far end of Forrest Hills trailer park, away from a majority of the trailers and RVs as Eddie carefully rolled the joint. This wasn’t something that happened often, the two of you hanging out alone. The last time it happened was the start of the school year when Eddie had given you a ride home when your car had a flat. The two of you ended up spending an hour in your driveway just talking. That had cemented the crush you had been suppressing for the past eternity. You had thought that maybe he had felt that same spark you did that night, but the two of you hadn’t been alone like that since.

Eddie took the first hit and handed the joint over to you. You held it for a moment, unsure if weed was a good idea with your already cloudy mind but you took a deep hit anyway.

“Woah, easy.” Eddie said, taking the joint back as you coughed from the smoke. He smacked you on the back a few times before offering you a swig from a water bottle. You chugged the rest of it before your coughs subsided. “It’s just me. You don’t need to smoke like you have something to prove.”

You winced at the call out. You absolutely did take that hit to try and impress Eddie and he saw right through you. Of course he did.

“Sorry.” you coraked out.

Eddie just shrugged and took another hit, leaning back against the driver side seat. The mixtape he put in was louder than you would have liked, but it kept you alert. You felt at ease for the first time in a while, excited even, and that made you feel guilty. You didn’t want your brain to be dependent solely on Eddie to function. That wasn’t fair to him.

You considered asking him to take you home when he started talking again. He turned up the music just slightly, his voice a little louder as he launched into a ramble about the guitar solo.

“Are metal songs usually this long?” you asked, leaning against the passenger side door to face him more.

“If they’re any good, yes.” Eddie laughed, shredding on his precious imaginary air guitar.

“It’s nice of Metallica to slow down in the middle of a song. Gives the pit a break, you know? Like, ‘Hey good work everyone! Grab some water and meet back in the pit in three minutes for the big finale!’” You laughed, taking a smaller hit from the joint.

“If you leave the pit, it doesn’t count. I don’t care how much they slow down.” Eddie said firmly.

“You have too many rules.” you shook your head. “Not everyone has the never ending stamina that you have.”

“That’s why we need to work on yours.” Eddie stretched out dramatically and dropped his feet in your lap, the heels of his Reeboks digging not unpleasantly into your thighs. “You’re damn near falling asleep on me at Hellfire, how am I gonna get you in the pit at our first big gig?”

Your stomach turned with guilt but you pushed through it. “Just toss me in from the stage and if I thrash enough I’m sure it’ll count.”

“Come on, you know it won’t count unless you start the pit willingly. If I can’t make you feel like you want to fight with our songs then I’ve failed.” Eddie pouted.

“You make me want to fight without your singing.” you teased, untying his shoe laces.

“Then why didn’t you?”

You froze, holding the broken aglet between your fingers. “Dunno what you mean.” you lied.

“These past few weeks you’ve been hanging back during battles and have barely talked during the campaign.” Eddie said. “Do you...”

“Do I what?” You asked, rolling the aglet.

“Do you enjoy Hellfire anymore?” he asked, his voice quiet and unsure. You felt your heart break at the question, you hated that your damn brain made him feel like this. You were fine suffering in silence, but the last thing you wanted was to drag Eddie down with you.

“No- I mean- yes.” you stuttered out. “I do like Hellfire. I promise.” It sounded childish, and you couldn’t force your voice to sound as sincere as you wanted it. Eddie would see through the bullshit in a heartbeat. “I.. I don’t know what’s wrong.” You conceded finally.

Eddie nudged you with his foot. “Talk to me. Normally you won’t stop talking during the campaign. Don’t clam up on me now.”

“It just... I get like this every year around this time. The sun disappears right after class and suddenly I feel like a damn zombie. I can’t think, or do anything. I feel like I’m fighting fog. You can’t punch fog.”

Eddie crossed his arms and nodded sagely. “That’s how fog works.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re oh so helpful.”

“Normally the way to get rid of fog is an assload of light. That’s your problem, huh? No light means more fog.”

“That seems to be the case.” you agreed and turned down another hit of weed. It wasn’t helping right now anyway.

“Should I shine one of the spotlights on you next time?” He suggested.

“You already did that this afternoon.” you deadpanned.

“Nah, I just made you participate. I’ll rig one of the drama spotlights to shine directly on you-”

“Giving me disadvantage on every roll because I’ll be blind.” you countered.

“You will be, but I might have mercy on your character. No, but I was thinking more of a Care Bear stare. Blast you with light to make you give a shit again.” He crushed out the joint.

“A Care Bear stare? Who even are you right now?” you stretched your own legs out to rest on his lap, your legs tangled together now. “You can’t even name three Care Bears!”

“I can so! There’s Grumpy Bear and uh... Happy Bear and Brave Heart.” Eddie said smugly.

“Wh- That last one isn’t even a bear, it’s a lion!”

Eddie threw his arms up dramatically. “Does it matter?”

“Yes! You’re a fake Care Bears fan. How are you supposed to blast me with a Care Bear stare if you can’t even name the characters? I’m embarrassed to even be here right now, Eddie.” you sighed, disappointed in him. “Poser.”

“Poser?!” Eddie looked offended. “I can handle being called a freak, or a satanist, but poser? That’s a low blow. I’m wounded.”

“Crit hit on psychic damage.” You cackled.

“You sound better.” Eddie said as your laughter subsided.

“I.. feel better. Thank you.” despite the weed and the only light in the van coming from the overhead light, you did feel better. There was still a bit of fog, but the exhaustion wasn’t as bad as it had been over the last few days.

“Are you gonna be okay for the rest of the campaign?” Eddie asked. “I’d hate to lose a party member to a monster we couldn’t see”

“You aren’t gonna lose me.” you promised. “I’ll be there and I’ll try and be perkier.”

“I don’t care about perky, I just want you to have fun.” Eddie said firmly. “If you aren’t having fun then that means I’m not doing a good job as a dungeon master. Come one, tell me what I gotta do to make it fun for you again.”

“Kill off Blorbo.” you said.

“Anything but that, he’s an essential NPC.” Eddie smirked.

“He’s really not.”

“Blorbo bring joy and wonder everywhere he goes-”

“Can he go to Hell? I think they need more joy and wonder there.” That damned goblin had started as a joke and quickly turned into the most obnoxious character that would show up to cause problems when things were going too well.

“I’ll tone him down.” Eddie promised. “The voice is straining anyway.”

You took a deep breath and fiddled with his aglet again. “I just.. Don’t want to let you down when I can’t give my all.” You admitted, laying out your vulnerability. “I don’t care if anyone else is disappointed in me, but you and the rest of the party are different. I want to be there for you all. I want to fight the fog and show up and be a part of this adventure. I... I don’t want you to- if you give me the same look that the rest of the school gives us then that’s it. I won’t be able to face you, Eddie.”

Eddie was silent for a while as you stared at his shoes. “Look, I know I can be harsh when it comes to Hellfire.” he admitted. “I can be an asshole because it means so much to me. I know that. If my threats are making it harder for you to show up then I’m sorry. I don’t want to be so much of a dick that you run away because I’m threatening to kill off characters because of my precious dungeon master ego.”

You felt your chest tighten and you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“I want you at Hellfire.” Eddie continued. “I love playing with you. When you and Jeff team up, I know I’m in trouble. The two of you come up with plans that, frankly, no sane dungeon master would let you roll for. But I do, because you make it fun.”

“And because you’re insane.” you laugh as you blink back a tear.

Eddie grabbed your ankle and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be nice to you at Hellfire. I’ll be patient. I just want you to show up and enjoy the game. Just don’t tell the others I’m giving you special treatment.”

“Not being a dick is giving me special treatment?” You gave him a small smile, a real one. “I’m honored.”

“Yeah, well, if word gets out they'll start demanding that I be nice to them too, and I can’t have that. Not during the game anyway.”

You felt lighter than you had in weeks. You really did feel better. It wasn’t going to be a permanent feeling, you knew that there were going to be more foggy days. Feelings like this don’t really go away until Spring, but you would prevail. You wouldn’t let Eddie down, or the rest of your party. You wouldn’t let yourself down and fall victim to an endly haze.

“Can... we hang out like this more?” you asked. “Outside of school, I mean.”

Because this is what you needed. It wasn’t gonna be easy, but having this time with a friend is what would get you to the end of winter. Eddie, Jeff, Doug, even Gareth and the freshmen. You had put so much pressure on Hellfire that you had forgotten that your party members were also your friends and allies.

This didn’t have to be a solo quest.

“Yes!” Eddie said, so quickly and forcefully it actually made you jump. “Yeah, absolutely, You should really come to the Hideout more and watch us play and after we could go get uh... questionable snacks from the gas station. Or I could sneak behind the bar and get us some beers.”

With how enthusiastic he was, you wondered if he had also felt that spark that night at the beginning of the school year.

It was almost 2 am when Eddie dropped you off at your place, stepping out of the car to give you a real goodbye. The rest of the night had been a whirlwind of a million topics at once, music, life, plans to hang out in the future. You felt happy. Really, genuinely happy.

You hugged Eddie, which he seemed surprised at but he hugged you back tightly. You were squished against him, enjoying the texture of his leather jacket under your fingers. It was cold out, and you could see your breath now, but you felt a warmth in you.

You didn’t need Eddie to be the light that kept you going, but he could help your own light stay lit. Him and the rest of your friends. Though you knew that a part of you would always burn more brightly for him, specifically.

Eddie pulled back and dramatically bowed to you, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. It was so over the top and so Eddie.

“Come by Gareth’s place on Sunday. We’re having rehearsals while the neighborhood is at church.” He instructed.

“I thought Corroded Coffin had closed rehearsals?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. They were always serious about their band, they didn’t let people come and distract them.

“Think of it as a special open casket.” Eddie said. “You don’t have to talk, we can focus on our music, and you get to spend time with us during the day.”

It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever offered you. You nodded, knowing that it might be hard to get your ass out of bed but you would. For him.

And for you.

With a final hug, Eddie saw you inside before peeling out of your driveway. You made your way to your room and looked at the photo on your nightstand of you with the Hellfire club. What you were feeling might be a solo quest, but you weren’t alone.

For the first time in weeks, you were able to fall asleep without the weight of the fog.

A/N: This fic was originally hurt/no comfort out of my own seasonal depression and insecurities. But what stopped it from being that was that none of you deserve to feel abandoned or like you're fighting alone. None of of who love Eddie so much deserve to be kicked out of Hellfire without a fighting chance.

Get yourself some vitamin D gummies and a SAD lamp. We're gonna get through this, guys.

Also I really need a regular Tag List so comment if you wanna be added.

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago

Text

Squirm, Hellfire Queen [Eddie Munson X Reader]

Title: Squirm, Hellfire Queen.

Pairing: Eddie Munson X Reader {Established Relationship}

Timeline: S4, No mention of Vecna.

Summary: You’re a little uncomfortable at Hellfire Club and Eddie investigates.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, creampies, cum, cumplay, secret relationships. Swearing (it’s Eddie after all). Dustin being my favourite character to write once again. I don’t think ‘Freak’ is mentioned but it’s my own HC that he’s called Richard, in case that comes up. Not beta read nor spellchecked, we die like Chrissy.

"Dude, you okay?" Dustin asks, leaning over the table towards you, earning an immediate glare from the dungeon master from interrupting the game. Dustin holds up his hands in surrender sarcastically, falling back into his seat and focusing his attention back on the game, all under the watchful eye of the seemingly omniscient dungeon master.

A few minutes pass before you move again, adjusting your hips in your seat as you wince subconsciously, earning you another confused glance from Gareth, sitting directly across from you.

"You saw it too? Right!" Dustin speaks out again, clicking his fingers mid air as he turns to you with a questioning gaze.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you feel a blush bloom over your face at the attention you were unwittingly receiving. You shake your head, trying not to meet anyone's gaze, pretending to focus all of your attention at the game, analysing your character sheet to study your hit points.

You attempt to keep yourself under control, not to draw any more attention to yourself then you have already but only a few moments later your eyes close and you suck in a silent breath, fighting every instinct you have not to squirm in your seat.

Your writhing and obvious discomfort had caught the attention of the dungeon master sat at the head of the table, his gaze focusing in on you as he watches your curious movements. You can feel his gaze blazing on you and so you finally find the courage to look up at him, meeting his gaze.

You thought initially that he would be angry with you, for drawing away attention from his, frankly brilliant, campaign but as you gazed in his eyes, it was clear that not a single ounce of anger was present. Instead, he looked upon with intense curiosity and intrigue, eyes wide and orientated upon your figure. The table blocked the majority of his view of you, but he watched with interest as you readjusted your hips in your seat, pulling down on your skirt, full lips parted in a small 'o' shape, eyes fixed on nothing in the distance.

When you met his eyes again, your blush deepened, eyes widening like a deer in headlights as you tried to avert your gaze immediately. A smirk tugged at the side of his mouth as he realised exactly what was happening. He took a brief look around at his little sheep around him, each of them blissfully ignorant of what was happening just a few seats down.

"Eddie?" Mike asks gently, trying to get his attention.

"Huh?" Eddie asks, not realising that he had zoned out, lost in his own thoughts.

"We decide to flee," Mike says slowly, gesturing with his eyes to look at the game board below, seeing that there was so way out of the trap Eddie had created.

"Oh yeah man, course," Eddie says, earning a mixture of questioning and confused glances from the boys, and girl, around the table, each of them expecting him to make a bigger deal of it.

"Tell you what, we hang it up right here, next week we begin from this point exactly and you give me your intelligent decision then," Eddie says, clasping his hands together as he sits back on his throne, eyes squinting as he smirks.

"Princess, a word?" Eddie says, using your nickname as he looks directly at you. You nod, silently, laughing gently as the rest of the boys 'ooo' at you, assuming you are in trouble.

They quickly gather their belongings, saying bye to the dungeon master and the princess as they head out the door, leaving the rest of the cleanup to Eddie as usual.

Once he is confident that everyone has dispersed, the dungeon master leaps up from his throne and strides over to the door, locking it from the inside. He turns and fixes his dangerous gaze upon you, a smug smirk pulling at his lips as he begins to saunter over to you.

"It appears you caused a scene Princess," he says threateningly, running his hands along the back of your chair. You open your mouth to apologise but think better of it, no longer feeling embarrassed by your 'issue' now you were alone with the perpetrator.

"I'm not really the one to blame here am I, master?" You snark back, your voice breathy and deep, exactly how you knew he liked it. He cursed under his breath, especially at hearing his title, something he always enjoyed hearing fall from your lips.

"Pray tell, what is causing the fair maidens troubles?" He asks dramatically, leaning down to tower over you, his lips ghosting you neck as he speaks. You were about to open your mouth with another sarcastic reply but instead, decided to show him. You scooted your chain back every so slightly, the chair grinding on the linoleum floor the only sound that could be heard in the silent room.

His gaze immediately fixes on the skin of your thighs, your skirt riding up as you took your seat.

With a dangerously flirty smirk, you open your legs wide enough for him to see exactly what has been causing your discomfort during the hellfire session, your skirt riding even further up with your movement, blocking any obstruction.

He breaths in a sharp breath, curses falling from his lips as his eyes bulge, his gaze fixated on the space between your thighs, showing him exactly what your problem was.

Between your thighs, your panties were completely soaked, melded to your puffy pussy lips, with extra wetness leaking out onto the seat below you, pooling under your butt.

He's frozen to the spot, fixated on the sight before him, unable move, unable to speak.

"Seems like it's more of an 'us' problem to me, dungeon master," you tease, lifting your hand to run one finger over your panties and into the little pool below, feeling the mixture of your arousal and his cum beneath your finger.

"Jesus Christ," is all he manages to spit out, his eyes following your finger diligently as it trails gently over your panties, still sensitive from your activities earlier.

One of the most wonderful things about Eddie is just how much he cums. It's like he's hoarding it, right up until the last second where he unleashes everything he has, flooding you and leaving no doubt to where he's been.

"No wonder you were squirming sweetheart," he says, finally breaking his gaze to look up into your eyes, seeing a smile on your lips that completely knocks him for six. The mixture of your sweet smile, deliciously used body and evidence of his defilement was enough to render him completely useless, brain turning to mush as he looks at you with all the love and adoration he can. His tone is gentle again, using the pet name he favoured for sweet moments, if that was what you would call this. "To think I was going to ask you to stand and address the class," he smirks, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah something tells me that would have been a disaster, I could barely keep your load in sitting down!" You reply, giggling. His lips part and his eyebrows shoot up as he lets out a strangled groan at your words, your beautiful, dirty mouth always affecting him. "You think the guys noticed?" You asked suddenly, worrying that someone would have caught on to your discomfort.

No one knew what was happening, what had been happening, between you and Eddie for quite some time. You'd been best friends from your first encounter, though the friendship was laced with innuendos, teasing, flirtation and downright mutual pining right from the very beginning. Your relationship had bloomed organically, never having felt so right, but it was locked away as both of your dirty little secrets. You'd become close with all the hellfire club and the bigger friendship group around it and were concerned about the implication it could have on your friendships if you just became 'Eddie's girl'.

You'd been successfully hiding your relationship for nearly 7 months and so far, not a single person had caught on.

"Sweetheart, I say this with all the love and devotion in the world, those guys wouldn't have a single clue about this sort'a thing," he smirks, leaning in to kiss you.

"Two of them have girlfriends!" You reply, breaking away, trying to argue the point. He snorts, shaking his head, leaning in for another kiss.

"Trust me baby, they're clueless nerds," he says with a sarcastic smile.

"As opposed to you... dungeon master," you reply sarcastically. He immediately reaches out to grab you, tickling your sides but he stops when you let out a strangled gasp, thinking he'd hurt you.

"What, baby, wh-?" He panics, causing you to laugh.

"Lets just say, I'm pretty sure I'm empty now," you blush, gesturing down to the chair below you where even more of Eddie's cum has leaked out in your frantic movements. He bites back a groan again at the scene before him and immediately looks up at you with a smirk.

"Can't have that can we sweetheart? Just gonna have to fill you up aaaall over again."

"Promises, promises," you smirk, pulling him down for one last kiss, before attempting to stand up, your face twisting into a grimace as you do. Eddie offers his hand out for you and helps you up onto the seat, his eyes flicking to your now unoccupied chair and he tries to fix the image to his memory for later use.

"We really need to start using condoms," you mutter, feeling the sticky residue clinging to your lower half, frowning at the state of the chair. You were on the pill, so no risk there, but situations like this were growing ever more frequent... and uncomfortable.

"Blasphemy!" Eddie mutters, pulling you in to him arms as his ringed hand comes to play with your hair and your jaw. You laugh sweetly at his outburst and he chuckles deeply to himself as his eyes wonder over your face.

You both pull away and immediately set to packing away all the game pieces, books and sheets that litter the table, both ready to be out of this room.

You grimace as you walk over to a cabinet at the side of the room, the wet clothes becoming increasingly uncomfortable as you bend down to reach for a pack of antibacterial wipes which are stored in the little cleaning cupboard. You make quick work of cleaning up the chair you'd defiled and can't help but laugh with Eddie as he sees just how many wipes it takes to clean it up.

Throwing the used wipes in the trash, you look over to Eddie who has packed everything into his cardboard box and is waiting for you.

You pause, weighing up your options before bending down and peeling off the wet panties, feeling an immediately chill as your bare pussy hides underneath your skirt. Eddie doesn't bother to hide his groan as he sees you take off your panties, before stuffing them inside your lunch bag so that they wouldn't ruin any of your notes.

"You're telling me, I've got to walk these halls, get across the car park and drive us all the way home, knowing that there's nothing under your little skirt?" He groans, pulling you towards him as you walk closer. You immediately feel the telling bulge pressed against you as he holds you tightly to him, causing you to smirk.

"That depends," you tease, running your fingers over his neck, making his breathing deeper and shaky with arousal.

"On what, Princess?" He asks, eyes blazing.

"We could wait... tease each other slowly and let it simmer until we get back to your trailer where you can have me however and wherever you want," you tease, your mouth pressing kisses to his throat as you speak, smiling as you feel his bulge jumping and throbbing at your hip. "Or, I could offer you some relief right now..." you say, pouting your lips in such a way that he knows exactly what you mean. "Though, if you can't wait, I can't promise that I can wait till we get home to play with my little pussy myself."

"Fuck," he curses, followed by a near painful groan as he takes in your words, his entire body shaking to try and calm himself. He reaches down to adjust himself completely without subtlety and groans again at the slightest touch. "Van. Now."

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #Hellfire club #Eddie Munson masterlist

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trashmouth-richie · 2 years ago

Text

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

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