#or does eddie not even think about the pictures because he's too caught up in the fantasy
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fruitydiaz · 8 months ago
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did eddie take kim back to his place after their dinner because. if he did. what did he do with all the pictures of shannon
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himbosandhardwear · 6 months ago
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Eddie has a bad habit of picking at his skin when he's nervous. Not, like, shy nervous or stage fright nervous, but the real kind of nervous, not-sure-I’m-gonna-survive-this kind of nervous. Like while he was alone in the boat house, he'd shredded every one of his cuticles. That time Hopper caught him behind The Hawk, very obviously selling his wares, he'd bitten his lips bloody.
Tonight he's picking a scab off his knee. It's practically healed already, so it won't bleed, he just needs to feel something on his body come loose before he does.
“You good, dude?” Steve asks, so in tune to Eddie's nervous disposition. Such a good guy. What a friend.
Eddie lets his head hit his knee caps with a thunk.
“Yup.”
Steve snorts. “You don't look good. I mean… You know what I mean.”
He smiles, tilting his head to look at Steve, always happy to give him a hard time.
“Oh, absolutely. You think I look good, don't cha, Stevie?”
He gets a couch pillow to the face for that, but they're both laughing so he doesn't think he's crossed the line yet.
Yet, yet, yet.
“Seriously, what's up with you? You've been quiet. It makes me want to call the squad.”
“Har har,” Eddie mumbles, but he does uncurl himself, sitting back against the couch again. “I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask for advice but it's-” Christ, he doesn't even want to admit to being embarrassed, that's how embarrassed he is.
“It's what?” Steve asks, the picture of earnest encouragement. “You can talk to me about anything, man, we're, like, bonded in blood or whatever.”
“Right. Yeah. Except this has the potential to get real awkward, real quick, and I'm not sure we're at that level of friendship yet.”
“Well,” he drawls, “if you ask me whatever it is that's got you all flustered I'm sure that will level us up. Right?”
“I'm not flustered.” God damn his red fucking face. Steve just laughs at him. “It's just, I don't have anyone else to ask about this. Jonathan probably doesn't have this particular problem, cause he's got- Uh. Sorry.” Steve waves it away, so Eddie goes on. “The kids are too young and the band guys don't understand what we went through-”
“Eddie, just spit it out.”
“Fuck! Okay, fine! You asked for it.” He takes a giant breath, steels his spine and just says it. “The Trauma is affecting my ability to get laid and I don't know how to fix it. Every time I get close to it I freak out and have to bail.”
There. All out now.
He looks over at Steve, and it's so much worse than being laughed at or pitied. He just looks sad.
He shakes it off quickly, hair barely moving, Eddie notes. He finds Steve's hair routine both endearing and ridiculous.
“Yeah. Okay. That's super common, just so you know,” Steve assures him first. “Robin says it's all connected, your mind and your body, so trauma can, like, get trapped in weird places like that. I can't play baseball anymore. Cause the memory of beating demodogs to death.”
“As you do,” Eddie quips.
“Right. But your thing. Uh. Yeah, it took some time before I could relax enough to even attempt getting laid, let alone actually do it.”
“So?” Eddie drawls, waiting. “How did you get over it?”
Something is off. Steve's not known for being skiddish about sex, but his hesitation and his inability to look Eddie in the eye is setting off alarms.
“Hey, if this is too weird for you-”
“No, I'm good, it's fine. Just, I'm the only person you have to talk to about this, so I'm gonna try to be helpful but, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “in all honesty, I haven't been laid since before Vecna either. Way before. So. Yeah. Not sure I should be giving out advice on anything.”
That's crazy. Like actually crazy. He can't even compute Steve Harrington not absolutely dripping in women. He must have some look on his face because Steve gives a dry sort of laugh, self deprecating, and leans back against the couch with him.
“Weren't you on a date with Brenda Mulligan the night- Vecna’s first attack?”
Steve shoots him a look. “Y- Yeah, but that didn't go anywhere. We weren't, like, compatible or whatever.”
Oh, yeah, it was weird that Eddie knew that at all, let alone remembered it nine months later. “That's too bad,” he replies lamely.
“Yep.”
He feels terrible for dragging down the whole night, it would've been better if he'd just kept his mouth shut. But that's never been his strong suit, as evidenced by him blurting out, “If the hottest guy in Hawkins can't find a suitable date, what fucking chance do I have.”
Steve snaps, “Don't say that. What the fuck?”
Great, now he's gone and made it weird. Good job calling your straight friend hot, you fuckin’ dipshit.
They sit in the awkward silence, out of things to say or out of useful things to say. Either way it's them breathing, the clock ticking, and the M.A.S.H. rerun playing softly in the background.
Steve clears his throat. “Whatever, let's get back to the point. You don't have to tell me if you don't want but…what do you think the specific reason is for your…issue?”
He thinks about it. Has been thinking about it, for a while now. “My dick still works, if that's what you're wondering.”
Steve chuckles, high and surprised. “Good for you.”
“Yeah. It's more like, I can't get out of my head. I start worrying about my scars, explaining them if someone asked. I think about how even though I don't want anything long-term, I wouldn't be able to do long-term anyway, because I'm a fucking mess. If it's really bad, I'll get flashes of Chrissy or Patrick's bones snapping, as a little soundtrack to the fun shit happening outside my head.”
Steve looks sad again. Maybe it is pity but it looks more turned inward, like he's dealing with his own shit more than Eddie’s.
“You hooking up with strangers then?”
Eddie blinks at Steve. “Well…duh. Right? Not like I have guys lined up around the block here in Hawkins.”
Steve is full blown scowling at the TV. It's weird.
“What if-”
Eddie waits but Steve doesn't finish his thought.
“What if…what?” He prompts, giving a little nudge with his foot.
He's still avoiding eye contact, not even turning his head to look in Eddie's direction.
In a soft voice, almost too quiet to hear, he says, “What if we helped each other out?”
He must've heard that wrong. Or he's misunderstanding.
“What?”
“What if we help each other out? Like, a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
That can't be right. No fucking way. It's a test. Like as soon as Eddie agrees, Steve yells ��Aha! I knew you wanted to molest me! Goodbye forever!’ and runs out the door.
“What, exactly, do you mean? Like, what are you getting out of it?”
Steve finally looks over. “Well, I would think that was obvious. If you're willing.”
Eddie's legs are starting to go numb.
“Okay, so I blow you and you blow me, except when you're doing it I have to watch you take it like you're being force fed liver and onions at Grandma's house?”
Steve slowly shakes his head no.
“Oh, okay, so you're going to blow me and enjoy it,” he snaps sarcasticaly.
Steve nods once.
“You want to blow me?”
“Mmhmm,” he hums without moving a muscle.
“Since when!” Eddie brings his octave down from the upper atmosphere. “Since when, Harrington? This is insane behavior. Should I call the squad for you? I'm serious. I'll do it.”
“You don't have to say yes. I was just offering.” He says it like Eddie isn't one green flag away from stomping on the gas.
He starts nervously laughing, which makes Steve flinch unfortunately, but he can't stop.
“It's cool, just forget I said anything.” He moves like he's about to get up and leave, which is fucking insane because it's his living room. Eddie stops him with a tight grip around the bicep.
“Don't you dare. If you're even remotely serious, we have to have a much longer conversation. Sit.”
Steve drops like a sack of bricks. Which is…something.
“Right. First off, this is uncommon behavior in a straight friend. Is there something you'd like to tell me, so I don't think you've been body snatched?”
He pinches at the top of his nose, like Eddie is inconveniencing him greatly. Too bad.
“I'm probably bisexual.”
“Probably?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I'm an inexperienced bisexual,” he amends through clenched teeth.
“Good. Great. Happy to hear it.” His heart may explode from his torso à la Ridley Scott's Alien but sure. “Second on the agenda, what do you mean help each other out? What's on the table? Mutual handjobs and then we never talk about it again?”
“No,” Steve answers immediately. That's good. “I'm open to…whatever you're open to.”
“Steve.” He has to clear his throat. “You dont even know what you're agreeing to.”
“I trust you.”
Fuuuuuck.
“Okay, right, uh, let's circle back to that later. Third thing, what, uh, what is your level of commitment with this?”
He just stares at Eddie, all doe eyed. It shouldn't work, Eddie fucking invented that look. It's gotten him out of more scrapes than he can count. Now it's being used against him but to what end? Does Steve want to get bundled up in a blanket and tucked into bed? Because Eddie can make that happen for him.
“Whatever you want, I guess,” he finally says. “I mean, like I said earlier, friends who help each other out. Casual. I'm not interested in looking for Mrs Harrington anymore and you're having a problem relaxing around guys who don't understand what you went through.” He makes a gesture like ‘Ta da.’
He's not wrong. It makes sense. But…
“Fourth thing. Is this just an experiment for you? Cause I'm all for you exploring your sexuality but, historically speaking, friends are a bad place to start.” AKA ‘it will break my fucking heart if you decide you're not that into it and it's because it's me.’
“Eddie. Look.” He gets more comfortable, facing Eddie straight on finally. “What you're going to provide is practical knowledge on what has only been theoretical up to this point, but the theory has already been well established.” He taps his head. “Understand?”
A smug confidence melts Eddie into the couch. “You liiike me,” he sings. “You think about me naaaked. You wanna-”
Steve lands on him, lacking any elegance or grace, and nearly caves their skulls in with his Jay Garrick approach to kissing. Eddie doesn't say a fucking word. He does wonder at the fucking majesty that is making out sober. What a revelation. Steve keeps making these tiny, almost wounded noises, to the point where Eddie tries to back up and do a check in but Steve doesn't let him, he chases him down and latches back onto Eddie's bottom lip like he's Hannibal Lector. It's stupid hot.
Everything is going great until Steve lets out a sound that legitimately has Eddie worried he's upset about something.
He pulls back and asks, “Are you okay?”
“Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I just can't, I can't believe I got this fucking far. You're so hot I'm losing my fucking mind.”
“Me?” Eddie snaps. “Dude, you're out of your mind.” He pokes Steve in his meaty chest. “Literal. Prom. King.”
“Fucking stupid high school shit, are you kidding me?” He sits up, straddling Eddie's hips, which is boner enhancing to say the least; he's got Steve's thighs in his grasp immediately. “You don't get it, I'm gone on you. I've got it bad, man. I was playing it cool earlier-”
“At no point tonight were you in any way playing it cool.”
“-but, fuck it, guess I'm ruining it, cause I can't be cool about this. I don't want casual. I don't even want to date you,” and before Eddie can even worry about that, he says, “I wanna skip straight to boyfriends, man. I know you said you didn't want long term with anyone but-”
Eddie interrupts again, this time by pulling Steve back down horizontal and kissing him like he just bravely declared himself as all in.
If this is a pod-person, well, that's a problem for Tomorrow Eddie. Tonight Eddie just landed Steve Harrington as a boyfriend.
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rebelspykatie · 21 days ago
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The Gift That Keeps on Giving - Part 3
AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2
Eddie and Robin, and maybe even the security guard, can likely hear how loud his heart is beating in his chest. He says it with such conviction, hoping that Eddie will know why he’s here, why he came despite his cryptic sign off. 
Eddie’s eyes close and he takes a deep breath. “Did I ruin everything?” He skates a hand through his already tousled hair. “I knew I was coming on too strong. Kept reminding myself you had a boyfriend, but my dumb heart didn’t seem to care.” He puts a hand on his chest and leans further into the doorframe in a mock swoon. 
Despite the dramatics, those big doe eyes stare nervously back at him. “You did ruin everything.” Eddie winces. “But he ruined it worse…or we both ruined it? It doesn’t matter. It’s over.”
Robin snorts. “What he’s trying to say is that idiot was a cheating bastard, but it didn’t matter because Steve was already halfway in love with you when he found out.” 
“Robin,” Steve whines and nudges her with his hip. She nudges back and gives him a pointed look.
“That asshole cheated on you? After everything you did for him?” Eddie’s riled up now, pushing off the doorframe, chest puffed up like a lion ready to pounce. 
“Alright, down tiger,” Robin pats his shoulder, holding him in place. “They were both over it. No harm done.” She steps back and looks at Steve with that knowing smile that he both loves and fears. “Besides, did you miss the halfway in love with you part?” 
Eddie sputters for a minute while Steve tries not to sink down into the floor from embarrassment. “N-no,” he shakes his head, his tangled mess of hair a flurry of movement, “I did not miss that. And I will address that, but,” and he looks at Steve now with an intensity that he knows all too well from watching his music videos, “are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Eddie.” Steve shuffles a bit closer. “By the end, we were barely talking. I was so consumed with messaging you, I forgot why I started it all in the first place. I pushed him away and into someone else’s bed, but it didn’t matter.” He pauses and looks down at his feet, toeing at the floor with his sneaker. “Do you know what I felt when I caught him in bed with someone else?” 
When Steve looks up, Eddie’s just patiently waiting for an answer, even though his lips are twitching like he desperately wants to make a snide comment. 
“Relief,” and the same feeling washes over him saying it now. “I was so torn up about how into you I was and how much I ignored him. And then the tickets show up after I wrote you off and tried to forget about you. But you still did that for me, even after I just walked away with no explanation.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart,” Eddie insists. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“No, I did. I do. Because all I could think about at the end was you. And even when I tried to stop, you were everywhere. We hadn’t even met, but you were in my car when I turned the stereo on. In my bed when I wanted to doom scroll at night and your picture popped up first on my feed. On my tv when I pulled up youtube because I’ve watched every music video hundreds of times. I couldn’t get you out of my head.”
“I am pretty annoying like that.” Eddie smirks. 
“I didn’t know those tickets would bring us back here to you. I just wanted to see you on stage and get a taste of what I was seeing through my screen. I had no idea that I would have an opportunity to tell you any of this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help or respond.”
“I’m glad I did.” There’s a dopey grin on his face now. It lights up every corner, and Steve wants to stay here and memorize every laugh line and the curve of his lips. It’s all he can do to keep his hands to himself and not launch himself at Eddie right here. 
“Can you guys kiss and make this official now?” Sometime in the last minute, Robin has taken out her phone and she’s holding it up to record them. “How much do you think I can sell this for? Can you put on the hat before you do, really sell it? Oooh, is there mistletoe somewhere? This hallway is really not selling the vibe.” 
Steve bats the phone out of view while Robin cackles. “This is not about vibes! Don’t you dare post that online, Rob.” 
She backs away and tries to hide behind the security guard stationed beside Eddie’s door. He looks like he’s trying not to get involved, but he’s doing a poor job at hiding his amusement.  
“Et tu, Hopper?” Eddie asks, poking the guy in a meaty bicep. 
“Serves you right, Munson.” 
Robin fist bumps Hopper now that she’s got him on her side. “I’ll give you a cut of the profit.”
Part 4
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loveinhawkins · 9 months ago
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picturing Eddie first meeting Dustin and thinking yeah, he knows how this goes: he’ll be a larger than life, comical figure in this kid’s life for, like, not even a year before he leaves Hawkins High in the dust.
And sure, Dustin is, like, ridiculously endearing even when he’s being a cocky little shit in campaigns, and that suits Eddie just fine, ‘cause he can be a cocky little shit at the best of times, downright obnoxious really, he thinks—a part of him’s never outgrown the juvenile, no matter how many times he repeats senior year.
Plus Dustin is crazily good at solving riddles, so Eddie’s remaining months leading Hellfire are definitely gonna be a fun challenge.
Then March comes.
And Eddie’s shaking apart in a boathouse, seeing impossible, terrible things on a loop in his head, Chrissy, Chrissy, God no, please, and Dustin’s there, with a wisdom far beyond his years, calmly leading him out of the dark.
Eddie half expects it to be a trick, but no. Dustin Henderson believes him.
You don’t know me, Eddie wants to say.
But there’s a constant defiance in Dustin’s expression, even when he’s clearly trying to keep things light and breezy, there’s nothing to worry about! Like he’s just daring for Eddie to contradict him.
There’s something assured in how the kid does things, Eddie thinks. He can see how the years of all this shit have shaped him, have him flitting between maturity and earnestness: something born from a childhood that’s not been lost, just altered.
He watches Dustin walk with Steve Harrington in the woods—can read the shared history and fondness hidden in between layers of snark; they’re family, he knows that without a doubt.
What trips him up is that Dustin keeps looking back, keeps drawing him back into the group with complaints that he’s walking too slow, and his eyebrows are raised meaningfully, like he’s really saying that there’s room for Eddie here, too.
And Eddie doesn’t know how to convey the sudden gratitude he feels closing up his throat—feels too jittery still, too raw to do anything justice.
He keeps close when Dustin tears off through the woods, heart in his mouth as the night darkens, Dustin, can you slow down? Dustin!
He pulls Dustin back from the lake’s edge just in time, then feels Steve’s watchful eyes on him—spots a flicker of approval, like he’s passed some sort of test.
And that feeling only grows the longer he’s around Steve, lying through his teeth in The Upside Down, I don’t even know why I care what that little shrimp thinks, and Steve’s giving him this knowing sideways glance, like maybe they’re something of the same; Eddie feels a sudden, unexpected rush of joy at the thought, dancing in and out of Steve’s space, still super jealous as hell, by the way.
“I told you, right?” Dustin says, grinning widely as Steve drives them out of Forest Hills at breakneck speed. “He’s awesome.”
And Eddie feels the fondness of his own smile, feels it right down to his core, because he gets that Dustin’s only being so forthcoming because Steve can’t hear him right now.
Kid worships you, dude. Like, you have no idea.
It hits him then, while roughhousing with Dustin in the grass (a deliberate distraction, trying to make the kids forget about weapons and fire): that he’s never really been the kinda guy who people want to stick around, but now…
Now he’s starting to think that he could be.
Starts to imagine, starts to hope—and that’s huge, something that would’ve seemed impossible mere days ago—as he sees Robin and Nancy laughing at his antics, their weapon-making temporarily forgotten.
They like me, Eddie thinks with wonder, they really like me.
And he wants—sudden and fierce, with all he has—to change the world for them, to make it so Robin Buckley would just be spending spring break watching arty films, dreaming of Paris; so Nancy Wheeler would never need to hide guns in her bedroom, would never have to carry an unimaginable grief.
Steve looks over, too—his laugh carries across the field, and Eddie is caught by the warmth in his eyes; even as Dustin manages to playfully tackle him, he’s still thinking of Steve, and maybe, maybe…
The lightness fades as they go over the plan, but not the emotion: Eddie keeps that tucked away, safe, a promise to himself.
“Uh, are you sure about this?” he says in an undertone to Steve, when it’s first revealed that it’s him and Dustin paired up together.
Steve’s eyes are apologetic, “Sorry, man, I’ve tried every—if there was a way to just, like, sit it out, I’d have—”
“No,” Eddie says urgently, “I mean…” And he points at himself before nodding discreetly to where Dustin is—currently talking up a storm with Erica, something about vents that he can’t make sense of.
“Are you sure?” Eddie presses, trying to put all he’s not saying into the question, I can see how much that kid means to you, I’ve known him, like, six months, Harrington, that’s nothing, why, why do you—
Steve shakes his head. A little smile breaks through his concern. “Yeah, of course,” he says, like it’s nothing.
But Eddie can feel the weight of it. A passing of the torch.
And he doesn’t know how to put what he’s feeling into words: that, apart from Wayne, he’s never really allowed people in, never allowed them to matter like this.
As they drive back to the Creel House, as time runs out and nerves build, he tries to show everything he can’t say; he helps Nancy take stock of supplies, offers Robin his shoulder so she can sleep, and he knows that’s not enough, barely scratches the surface, but it’s all he’s got.
He sits in the back of the RV, watches Steve, tense and silent in the driver’s seat, and knows with certainty what his mission is: get Dustin Henderson safely back home.
And no, Eddie doesn’t know how any of this is gonna go.
But he can hope.
He can try.
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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago
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Rockstar Life
It might have all been forgiven, if Eddie had called. If Eddie had called and begged forgiveness immediately.
Steve could believe- would be willing to look past one drunken mistake.
But Eddie doesn't call.
Eddie doesn't call. Not in the morning after. Or the following day. Or the next.
Steve doesn't reach out either, because how can be he expected to? Paparazzi caught Eddie shoving a mysterious man against the wall in a dark alley, captured their heated kisses and how they barely separated for long enough to get into the back of an uber, and Steve knows as soon as he sees the pictures that he won't be reaching out.
He's not the one that's done anything wrong.
It takes three days for Steve to hear from Eddie. It's a shock, a genuine surprise, because it's face to face. Steve hears the front door close, and he thinks it's Robin, come to check on him again so he doesn't even turn around from where he's making a quesadilla directly on the stovetop.
He does freeze completely when it's not Robin's voice he hears.
"Steve, I am so sorry. So fucking sorry. I can't even begin to explain how sorry."
Three days ago, Steve might have forgiven him.
Today, he's not feeling so generous. He turns the burner off and scoots the half-cooked quesadilla to the cooler side of the stovetop before turning around.
Eddie looks wrecked. Dark bags under his eyes, made even darker by his paler than normal skin, hair a type of messy Steve hasn't seen since the spring break Eddie was in hiding and unable to take a proper shower. He looks heartbroken, distraught and upset. All things Steve felt up until this exact moment. Now that he's face to face with the love of his life, he feels nothing.
"Am I moving out, or are you?"
The noise Eddie makes is heart wrenching. Steve's not so numb and hateful to not recognize that. "Babe, please-"
"Do not call me that," Steve interrupts, "not when you were probably whispering that to someone else just days ago."
"Ba-Steve. Steve, please. I swear it was a mistake. It- I was way too drunk and high to be thinking clearly-"
"I don't want your excuses, Eddie. I want to know if I'm packing my things, or if you are."
"Steve, can't we talk about this?"
That makes Steve's blood boil. "Talk about it? Talk about it? Now you want to talk about it? You should have wanted to talk about it the second you slunk from that guy's bed. Or did you have to kick him from yours? Or, worse, has it taken three goddman days to hear from you because you were still in bed!?"
"No!" Eddie cries, "no, it didn't- it was just-"
"Stop!" Steve shouts, "I don't want to hear any details! I don't care if that uber only made it a block before you came to your senses and bailed. That doesn't- those pictures- you pinned him to the wall, Eddie!"
Eddie is silent, shrinking in on himself in a way Steve's never seen. Steve pushes down the urge to comfort him.
Steve is the one in need of comfort. He's the hurt party here.
"If I were sober, it never would have happened," is all the reply Eddie finally gives. It's not good enough.
"I can't trust that!" Steve turns away, pressing his hands against his eyes hard enough to see light that isn't there. "How am I supposed to believe you? You didn't even- you didn't even call. It was like- like you didn't even know that I knew. But you must have found out. That's why you're here." Steve drops his hand and turns around. "Who told you I knew?"
Eddie swallows. "Max."
Steve nods because of course it was Max. She was the one who handed him the tabloid with the picture in it, three days ago. "So, if you didn't know I knew, you would have, what, never told me?"
"NO, no, I just- I didn't know what to say. How to say it. But then Max called yesterday and-" Eddie says Max's name with too much bite, like it's a curse. Like Max tattled on Eddie instead of exposed his betrayal.
"Shut. Up," Steve growls, "you don't get to be mad at Max for your fucking mistake! I've know you're a goddamn cheater for three days, and it's not until Max let you know that I knew, that you decided to fix it? Well, it can't be fixed, Eddie!"
"Steve, please," Eddie is crying, and Steve's seen him cry a handful of times before but this one hurts deepest. Steve's the reason for the tears, and because you don't just stop loving someone overnight, that hurts.
"No. No! I can't trust you! How many other times has this happened?-"
"Never, never I swear-"
"- Would you have ever said anything if you hadn't been fucking caught on camera?!"
"Yes, of course I would have!"
"How am I ever going to believe that?" Steve cries, "I had to learn that the love of my life cheated on me at the same time the rest of the goddamn world did! Jesus Christ, Eddie, when you said you wanted that rockstar life, I thought you meant like, big fancy house, grammy's and an invite to the met gala. Not goddamn sex, drugs and rock n' roll!"
For the first time since Steve's known him, Eddie Munson stands before him with nothing to say.
-
@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @skepsiss @afewproblems
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eddiegettingshot · 1 month ago
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i'd love it if you reposted it! thank you so much 💚
all 2.8k (+ nsfw) beneath the cut just for you <3 <3 <3 we'll see if i ever come back to it
Despite being caught in a perpetual rush of his own making, Eddie is very rarely late. He’s always a little bit convinced that he might be, though, which is why it’s so endearing that every day, without fail, he finds the time to text: Morning, Buck.
Sometimes, Buck likes to wonder where Eddie had paused in his routine to make that kind of room for him. 
It could never be right after waking up, of course, but maybe he’d tapped it out one-handed as he brushed his teeth. Just before calling for Christopher to get out of bed, since Chris frequently sleeps through all three of his alarms. While waiting for his bagel to pop out of the toaster, or maybe after burning something on the stove, because it’s possible that he’d look at the remains of his breakfast in his pan and think, It’s easier when Buck’s around to make my eggs. 
Buck imagines this most often, even if it’s the least likely scenario.
He could have also decided to text right after he finished making his bed; in the middle of trying to find his misplaced wallet, which is usually forgotten in a pocket somewhere, although in that case he’d complain and ask Buck if he had any fucking idea where it could be; or once he was finally, firmly behind the wheel of his truck, about to put on the shitty country playlist he listens to on the road. The options are endless.
Buck’s phone vibrates, like clockwork. He closes his eyes. 
Apropos of nothing—nothing at all—he decides it’s possible that Eddie has just finished working out, which means he’s about to get into the shower, because he’s hot and sweat-damp all over. He’s probably peeled his shirt off already, if he’d deigned to wear one at all, after which he’d raked his hair out of his eyes and, still panting, remembered Buck.
Yeah, that’s probably it. That’s what’s most likely. Eddie’s been working out a lot. Probably what inspired that dream, too—the first one Buck’s had in months. Just him, processing all the ways Eddie’s changed lately. 
He sighs. He has to wipe himself clean before he can respond.
***
Most of Buck’s dreams are not about Eddie. The dreams that are about Eddie tend to hurt, leaving him off-kilter until the real thing, flesh and blood and smiling mouth, recenters him. 
He wonders if Eddie’s the same way. It would explain the ritual text, if the habit were a Hope you’re not actually dead! thing rather than the My best friend is always on my mind! thing Buck accidentally turned it into, as he does. He’d be okay if it were the former; he understands the impulse all too well, since he’d nursed a similar compulsion with Bobby for the same reason in the surreal months following his coma.
But, admittedly, it’d be better if Eddie loved him enough to think of him, always. 
Anyway, because dream-Eddie is generally riddled with bullets or riddled with bullets and drowning or otherwise suffering some amalgamation of all the terrible things Buck’s ever seen, it’s far less disturbing when Buck’s subconscious paints a picture of them sleeping together.
At least the version of Eddie who fucks him doesn’t exist, and never has.
***
He knows it’s Eddie marrow-deep, the way anyone knows anything in a dream.
Buck opens his eyes to light everywhere, so radiant the entire bedroom shimmers, a pale beam of it crossing Eddie’s long golden fingers where they’re clasped around Buck’s forearms to keep him in place. Eddie’s draped along his back, unapologetic about letting Buck, prone and practically immobilized, bear his full weight. Buck can’t see him, and he doesn’t say a word, just rubs his mouth into the spot beneath Buck’s ear and digs his thumbs into the insides of Buck’s wrists, but Buck is certain Eddie’s smiling. His mustache, which he’d long-since shaved in real life, is bristly, but nice. Really nice. Softer than Buck had thought it would be.
Then there’s the matter of Eddie’s cock, which he rocks slowly into the cleft of Buck’s ass. Buck can’t see that either, but it feels nice, too, stiff and hot and already soaked at the head. Buck tries to arch into him, give him something else, make it better; Eddie just laughs and keeps working him into the mattress, a lazy pantomime of a real fuck.
Dissatisfied, Buck struggles beneath him. Eddie bites him at the nape like an animal, hard enough to sting, and flattens his chest between Buck’s shoulder blades to settle him. He flexes his grip on Buck’s arms. Trapped like this, Buck can feel all of him: his ribs expand, and his belly presses into Buck’s spine as he sighs. 
The restlessness—whatever it is, that under-the-skin itch to stay in motion—drains away, defeated by Eddie’s wordless command. Buck sighs, too, turning his cheek into the pillow. 
The thing is, he knows it’s Eddie because it couldn’t be anyone else. 
“Good. That’s good,” Eddie says, low, dragging kisses across Buck’s jaw and cheek.
Buck’s not even doing anything. Eddie won’t let him, so he doesn’t try—even as mouthwatering want seizes his gut and pours blistering heat through his pelvis. He can’t stop shifting his erection against the sheets. The praise still doesn’t feel entirely unearned.
“It’d be better,” Buck says, “if you would actually put it in.”
“We ain’t got time for that,” Eddie says. Then (and he’s definitely smiling—the shape of it curls around his words): “Morning, Buck.”
It’s the familiar, beloved rasp of Eddie’s voice, that mundanity paired with getting almost-fucked, that makes Buck groan with impatience and spread his thighs. A blunted ache throbs behind Buck’s sternum. It’s dirty to let himself be overpowered this way, he thinks, except for that it feels closer to being held than pinned. With Eddie—his warm skin, his steady breath—it doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.
“Come on, Eddie,” he says. “Quit humping me.” 
“That’s usually my line.”
“Woof,” Buck huffs, and they both laugh—Eddie’s, shaky and breathless, his cock nudging right where Buck needs him; Buck’s, a little awed over this quotidian exchange alone. 
Buck noses to the side and opens his mouth against the back of Eddie’s hand, licking at the thin salty skin. He imagines there’s a vein there. He imagines he can feel the blood inside of it pulsing on his tongue—onto his tongue—and follows it to Eddie’s knuckles. Scraping his teeth over them, he tries again: “We could make time.”
“You might be off today, but I’m gonna be late for my shift,” Eddie says. He’s wrong. He’s never late. Buck hitches his ass up, insistently seeking contact.
Eddie groans, long-suffering, dropping his over-warm face into Buck’s shoulder.
“You won’t. And if you are, I—I’ll tell Cap it was my fault,” Buck coaxes. 
He doesn’t have to, since Eddie’s already letting go of him, spitting into his palm, drawing away just enough to reach down, wet his dick, and guide it firmly into place. But it’s nice to beg so freely, even nicer to chase down that singular moment where Eddie gives in. To keep pushing, just because he can—because Eddie allows it, every time.
“Please don’t,” Eddie snorts. He rubs up against Buck’s hole, purposeful rather than teasing now, and Buck shivers, clenching under the contact. “I’m pretty sure that breaks the station law against oversharing, and I don’t have enough cash left for the Buck’s Big Mouth jar.”
Buck’s shameless snickering dissolves into a wavering moan as Eddie eases forward, opening him on just the tip first. Even that feels like a lot, feels fucking good, the first couple inches igniting nerves that make the backs of his thighs tingle.
“Fuck,” he says. Whimpers, really, kind of airy and tremulous.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“This what you wanted?” Eddie’s pressed all the way into him, flush with Buck’s ass. He grabs Buck around the hip to maneuver the angle, tilting him perfectly into place as if by instinct. The first firm thrust wrenches all the air from Buck’s lungs.
“Eddie,” is all he manages, naturally.
The slide is effortless, too easy with spit alone, but Eddie’s cock fills him up so well that all Buck can think is that if this is real, if this is happening, then maybe it was just meant to be right here, taking up all this space inside him, and that Eddie was meant to be here, too, the whole of his body an anchor. His hips begin to snap, hard and focused enough to get Buck panting. 
“W—Wait,” Buck gasps. “Go slow.”
Eddie obliges, of course. He kisses the nape of Buck’s neck, the sore spot he’d used to bully Buck into submission before. It tickles. 
“Slower,” he begs—for the first time in his life, probably. It’s a sudden, inconvenient desire, considering they really don’t have much time. 
Incredulous but uneven, Eddie asks, “Seriously?” 
Buck grins. “Yeah,” he says.
Eddie’s got a grounding hand clamped tight and high on Buck’s waist, fingertips hooking beneath his ribs. Buck reaches around, takes him by the wrist, and guides that hand up to his throat, choking off his own desperate moaning mostly because he knows Eddie finds it unbearably hot. 
“Buck,” Eddie maybe mumbles, although it’s hard to decipher through the hazy head rush. He gives Buck a loving squeeze, but that’s not enough; after squeezing his wrist in return, Buck tugs him up until he can wrap his lips around Eddie’s forefingers and suck. 
He’d asked for slow, so Eddie’s barely even fucking him anymore. His hips remain crushed to Buck’s ass; he’s rocking forward in small, tight motions like there’s any way to get deeper. There isn’t, there can’t be. Stretched raw, speared apart, Buck already feels disassembled. 
Eddie shifts, and it’s—“There, right there,” Buck groans, garbled with his mouth full, but Eddie understands. 
He must take it as, like, permission, or something—God, that’s a nice idea—because he presses down on the ridge of Buck’s bottom teeth and pushes his nose against Buck’s ear and gives it to him. No more of that indolent grinding; he slams in, smooth and ceaseless, unforgiving on Buck’s prostate.
“I love you,” Eddie says, hoarse with sudden emotion. “You know that?” 
Fuck, yes—with Eddie’s broad, calloused palm holding his jaw fast, and Eddie’s fingers down his throat, and Eddie’s sweaty cheek brushing his, and Eddie’s big cock ripping him wide, he does. He feels it everywhere. He cries out, muffled, guttural, and deliriously pleased as the heat builds. 
“Answer me,” Eddie murmurs. He slips his fingers out of Buck’s mouth. A strand of drool keeps them connected to Buck’s lower lip. One particularly rude thrust punches a strangled noise out of him. 
“Fuck, Eddie, I—I know.”
“What do you know?”
“You love me,” Buck says. “I know you love me.”
“That’s right,” Eddie says, pressing a sloppy, proprietary kiss under Buck’s ear. “I love you, Buck.”
“I want—”
“You ready to come?”
“Yeah,” Buck moans, and then, “No, I—” 
Somehow, with Eddie surrounding him, it hadn’t occurred to Buck how badly he needed to breathe his air and touch him, too—to kiss his mouth, taste the sweat on his mustache. To thumb at his furrowed brow. To watch him come and bask in the blazing heat of his satisfaction. 
Eddie would like it—filling Buck up, flooding him inside. He does like it. Doesn’t he? Likes laying his claim, more than anything. 
That’s what it really is, after all, when he gives Buck his cock, and his come, and his bite, and his hand around Buck’s throat, and every spare, hard-won minute he’s got. I love you really means that Buck’s his to keep, and Eddie even says that in his sleep sometimes, mumbled into Buck’s hair and occasionally broken by his embarrassing snoring. 
He must like that Buck belongs to him. He has to. More than anything, Buck needs to look Eddie in the eye when he says everything he wants to say, so he can be absolutely certain of this. He was certain, a moment ago, but Eddie’s grasp on him is weakening, or maybe Buck’s slipping out of his hold. 
Buck tries to tell him, “I want to see you.”
Ideally, Eddie will grin when Buck turns in the cage of his arms and begs: Don’t go anywhere. I love you, too. Let’s just do this forever. I can take it. He’ll make that sound he makes, that quietly amused “Hm,” that has a million meanings, all of which Buck has memorized. He’ll dutifully argue that they’d probably miss their real life eventually—plus they’ve got a mortgage to pay and Buck would get bored without the thrill of saving lives. Eddie’s good at choosing the right moment to be a little bit terrible, so he’ll grab Buck by the thighs to stifle any retort, haul him into position to pound him just right, and say something irresistibly dirty, like, Give it to me, sweetheart, show me how you come. 
And Buck would. He’s already close; it’s knifing through his belly, the only palpable feeling left—
Forget an orgasm; he doesn’t even get to roll over before the whole scene washes away, taking Eddie with it.
Panting, Buck blinks the afterimage of Eddie’s hands out of his head, but he can’t banish the thought that he wouldn’t let Eddie try to convince him of anything. He’d pull him down, kiss him hard, lick his canine teeth, and plead again, and again, and again, until Eddie agreed to use his body as a dwelling; to live inside him, and nowhere else.
***
It’s not weird that he jerked off. 
The dream was near-cinematic and left him with a desperate hard-on; he obviously couldn’t walk into work in that state. And, actually, in a way it’s less weird that he’d jerked off thinking of Eddie over anybody else. He’d bet real money that anyone who’s spent more than thirty seconds in close proximity with Eddie has done the same. Buck is a self-respecting bisexual man and Eddie is devastating on his worst days; of course the image of him ruddy-cheeked and slick with sweat was going to get Buck across the finish line in—what, thirty pathetic seconds?
In fact, it turns out that envisioning Eddie was the most efficient choice, given that he walks into the station just shy of being late. 
He changes quickly, then heads out to the apparatus bay, where Bobby is currently holding court. Eddie’s eyes barely flicker as he slides over on the stairs to make room for Buck to settle in beside him. 
“Morning, Buck,” he says.
Buck’s stomach tenses. 
“H—Hey,” he responds, in the tone and cadence of someone who did not recently shoot off so hard he might have actually shed a tear, and all to the echo of dream-Eddie—only dream-Eddie—saying that exact thing. The corner of Eddie’s lips twitch as he restrains his smile; it’d have been imperceptible were Buck not already looking at it—his mouth, that is. 
He should probably stop doing that. Bobby gives him a good reason to turn away. 
Over the course of their morning briefing, Eddie begins to lean into Buck. He shuffles his feet until his legs are angled open wide and he and Buck are pressed together from their knees all the way down to the sides of their boots. Buck glances over occasionally, and Eddie notices each time; he doesn’t say anything, though, and doesn’t seem to think anything of it, his expression mostly unchanging. In every halfway moment between meeting Eddie’s eye and returning his attention to where it belongs, Buck is compelled to look down into the space between Eddie’s thighs, where his interlaced hands hang loosely. Those hands were all he’d gotten to see of Eddie, in the dream—all he’d gotten to touch and taste.
He wonders at Eddie’s fingers, how the shape of them would fit his mouth. Eddie’s knuckles digging into his hard palate. The unyielding edge of bone between his teeth. Would they make him gag? Would he care if they did? Probably not. There’s a small, still-fresh cut disappearing into the web between Eddie’s middle and ring fingers. The moment Buck imagines probing his tongue against it, he swallows hard against the feeling that there’s an immovable smoldering coal lodged in his esophagus, radiating unpleasant heat through his chest. 
Buck rubs his palm absently from his collarbone to his heart and back up again to scratch at his neck. He doesn’t realize he’s begun to chew his thumbnail ragged until Eddie nudges an elbow into his side to get him to quit. 
For some reason, he mumbles, “Sorry.” Eddie tilts his head and half-smiles, silently accepting this nonspecific and entirely unnecessary apology. Buck can bite his nails if he wants, but he shoves his hands into his pockets to stave off the urge.
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steddieas-shegoes · 7 months ago
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falling again
for @starrystevie's birthday. i hope your day is as stunningly beautiful as you are and that this super short thing is something that brings you some joy ♥️
cw: mild blood and injury | rated e, 18+, minors dni
♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
nothing can prepare you for the moment you fall.
whether it's while walking, on a roller coaster, or in love, you can never truly be ready for the stomach-swooping, heart-stopping moment of realization.
steve's had this feeling plenty.
when he was young, he fell from a branch of a tree and nearly broke his leg. tommy rushed to get his mom, who scolded him the entire drive to the emergency room, claiming that he must get this silly adventurous side from his father. but the moment before he fell, he saw blue and green, the sky and the grass meeting together to make a serene picture before the pain blistered across his skin. even in the peace, he felt a sense of dread.
when he fell for nancy, it was much the same, but all he saw was pink. her lightly tinted chapstick, her favorite sweater, the notebook she always jotted homework assignments in. steve felt that softness pillowing his head as he dreamt about her every night, picturing a future that would be taken before he could even hit the ground. but even in his dreams, a blackness curled around the edges.
falling into the upside down isn't graceful, but it gets easier with practice. as he falls one last time, he sees gray and red, sadness and guilt and blood. it's all dread. it's all anger. it's pain and regret. and it's a fall he hopes is worth the nausea.
when he finds eddie, alone, sitting in a corner of a home he doesn't recognize, dust floating around him as a warning, he falls again. he doesn't recognize the sinking feeling, the sharp intake of breath, the moment when the world spins and gravity forgets to have a purpose. he focuses on saving this man who did everything to save the town that hated him.
he helps him stand.
"i can't walk," eddie gasps just as steve sees why.
his ankle is broken, much like dustin's was. it's bloody and angled wrong, a sign of weakness to creatures that surely lurk in the shadows waiting for any sound or movement of their prey. it wasn't obvious at first because steve was too caught up in him being alive.
"i can carry you."
and he does.
steve carries him for half a mile, meets up with el at the same spot he came through. no one says anything.
steve falls, but this time, it's into gold and orange and yellow. this time, he has eddie with him.
he doesn't think about that falling feeling again until he's sitting by eddie's bedside in the hospital. he's sitting in a chair, alone except for eddie asleep in his bed and the constant whirring and beeping of machines making sure he stays alive and heals, when he feels it. a turn of the stomach. a pull in his chest. a tingling in his hands.
the silver of eddie's rings catch his eye. despite being covered in dirt and grime from hell, the rings shine.
steve looks at eddie's calm face, his eyes closed as he finally gets to rest in a safe place and feel no pain.
he feels his throat tighten around an inhale, his fingers clench without his permission. his leg bounces.
he's restless and the only reason he can think as to why is because he's falling.
he doesn't say anything, not to eddie, or robin when she gives him a weird look, or dustin when he outright asks why he seems so jumpy.
he doesn't say he's afraid. he doesn't say that something is bubbling inside him, begging to pour out, make a mess of something that should be simple. he doesn't say that the reason he never gave up on eddie is because he'd already been at the top of the hill and there was no backing out now.
but he can't refuse eddie when he asks.
they're finally alone again days later, and eddie watches steve puttering around his hospital room, tidying up the mess the kids left behind during visiting hours. steve can feel his eyes on him, but doesn't look back. if he looks, he'll hit the ground, and he's been hovering inches above for too long to let it happen right now.
"have a seat, stevie."
"in a minute."
"steve."
eddie's tone tells him he sees him hovering above the ground. eddie's voice says that he knows the fall was hard on him, and that he knows he's trying to stay off the ground.
when steve looks at him, his eyes say he's ready to catch him.
when steve sits, the fall is over, and the coasting starts.
there's a corkscrew later, when eddie gets an infection and has to stay in the hospital for another week.
and another drop when he gets home and finds that the town still hates him, that his uncle was forced out of hawkins because no one understands what he did to protect them all.
an unexpected turn leads to their first fight, the one that almost had steve giving up on roller coasters altogether.
but eddie never lets go of his hand. he's in the seat next to him, holding tight, making sure that they can feel the butterflies together. even when they have to leave hawkins, and the kids, and when eddie can't see his uncle wayne for months, he keeps steve next to him. even when his scars don't heal right and he hates the way the one on his neck looks, he lets steve's hand cover his.
and when holding hands isn't quite enough, when they both have to freefall from a plane not knowing exactly where they'll land, eddie's arms wrap around steve, holding him so they can pull the parachute together.
when they find that the darkness is too much, they chase light with hands against scars, reminding each other that there’s still blood flowing in their veins. lips press against freckles and dimples, tongues trace imperfections that feel like a gift.
grips tighten against thighs, legs parting while fingerprint bruises are left behind.
they’re made to fit into each other, push and pull like the tide, giving more than the other knows how to receive. they take turns stretching each other open until they’re sore the next day, smiling to themselves and each other as they go about their day with a reminder of their night.
steve and eddie become steveandeddie, and just when steve thinks the roller coaster has reached the station and he can get off the ride, it starts all over again. every time is a new fall, a drop that he knows will just end in more pleasure and happiness and fun.
nothing prepared steve for this fall, not even the ones he had before. but part of the beauty of falling for eddie munson was the unknown.
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achilles-rage · 2 months ago
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thirteen crows: chapter seven
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summary: buck and eddie continue to keep you company, until you find something interesting at buck's apartment.
word count: 3.0k
previous chapter
series masterlist
a/n: the second last chapter already, that’s so crazy😵‍💫 i love how this turned out and i’m so sorry for the cliffhanger but it had to happen hehe. enjoy<3
warnings: stalking, slight noncon, buck being crazy (cutely<3), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader
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As the weeks go by, you start to feel less on edge about your situation. People are still dropping dead around the city, and you’d be lying if you said the details of the murder didn’t cause chills to run down your spine, but you don’t know any of the people. For some reason, you find it a little bit easier to sleep at night knowing this.
Buck and Eddie have been a tremendous help to your feelings of comfort and safety, too. Not only do they walk you home from work every night, except for when they’re working, of course, but one of them makes sure they’re at your home or you’re at theirs most of the time.
Tonight, Eddie’s at your house while Buck babysits his niece and Christopher. He’s made you dinner; nothing special because he’s not nearly as skilled in the kitchen as Buck, but you appreciate it nonetheless. You park yourselves on your couch, your leg partly over his as you sit cross-legged beside him, which is making it painstakingly hard for him not to pull you over his lap and press hot, open mouth kisses down your neck.
“There’s more here. You want any sweet- heart?” you hear him ask loudly when he goes to the kitchen to get you both some water. You’re so engrossed in the show you put on that you don’t think too hard about the pause between sweet and heart. You smile, shaking your head, although he’s not able to see you from the kitchen.
“No, thanks!” you yell back, and Eddie can’t even answer. His hands are gripping the side of the counter as he bows his head, taking deep, steady breaths. He almost fucked up. Like, really fucked up. His jaw is clenched as he tries to calm himself down; he knows you’ll get curious if he spends too long in the kitchen. But he knows how badly it would’ve gone if he let his words actually slip, which makes it hard for him to slow his racing heart.
He remembers the realization on your face when they called you sweet girl as they killed Isaac. He knows that you’d put two and two together. You’re their smart, sweet girl, of course you’d fucking put it together.
After a minute, he comes back into the living room with two cups of water, and you thank him absentmindedly, barely even glancing at him before your eyes are back on your show. He lets out a long exhale as he lowers onto the couch beside you, extremely grateful that you hadn’t caught on.
He knows he’d be able to come up with a plan, but he’s extremely happy that he doesn’t have to now. He’s enjoying his time with his sweet girl, and he doesn’t want to cut it short by using one of her own knives to shut her up. The thought does make his dick twitch though, and he grips his fork tighter as he pictures it.
When you’ve both finished your dinner, he pulls your legs onto his lap, patting the top of your thigh gently as he gives you a soft smile. You feel the heat rushing up your neck as you feel his fingers grazing your inner thigh, but you smile back at him anyway.
“Thank you for being here.” you say in a quiet voice after a little while. He looks over to see you laying back on the couch, legs still over his lap, and fighting hard to keep your eyes open. He chuckles softly, and he can’t resist the urge to reach a hand over and cup your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin gently. 
He smirks when he sees you lean into his touch, and he’s not sure what he likes more; your eyes full of terror, or you looking so soft and safe with him here.
“You don’t have to thank me. We told you we’d protect you, and that’s what we’re gonna do.” he tells you, his voice slightly rough even though it’s full of care. You smile, and your eyes finally close as you rest your head completely on the backrest of the couch.
“I’m losing you here, honey. You should go to sleep.” he teases quietly, hand still caressing your cheek. You smile, although your eyes are still closed, and nod, mumbling a soft “okay” before you stand up slowly. 
He helps you get to your bedroom, then when you’re happily tucked into bed, he turns off your light and goes back to your living room. He takes your dishes to the kitchen and cleans up the mess, moving silently as he tries to distract himself from your plush body in the next room.
He groans softly when he goes to check on you an hour later, and if he didn’t already have a plan, he’d call Buck and tell him to come over right now so they can have their way with you.
He knows they can’t, though. He told you earlier that he was going to spend the night, and if the two masked men snuck into your apartment while Eddie was supposed to be there, he knows that you would either never trust them again, or you’d figure them out, or both.
So, he goes back to your living room and makes himself comfortable as he lays on your couch. If it were up to him, he’d be in bed with you, arms wrapped firmly around your soft middle. He knows he can’t, though; he doesn’t want to move too quickly.
As if someone decided to answer his prayers, he hears your frantic voice from the other room, calling his name.
He’s in your room in an instant, sitting beside you on the bed as he cups your cheek and rubs his thumb across your skin again, shushing you softly. He tries to act concerned as he takes in your tear-stained face, but he loves the sight, and when you ask him in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard if he’ll stay with you, he smirks.
He lays beside you, getting under your blankets and wrapping a large arm around your waist, pulling his chest flush against your back. When he’s sure you’re asleep, he whispers in your ear in a gruff voice.
“Good night, sweet girl.”
The next morning, your bed is cold, and when you sit up, you see the note on your bedside table. If it weren’t there, you’d assume you dreamed the entire night. Eddie’s always so sweet, of course, but he was so good to you last night. You feel a little embarrassed about asking him to sleep with you, but after the dream you had of the men terrorizing you, you certainly don’t blame yourself.
You feel a little more on edge this morning, though, even though Eddie’s note told you that Buck would be coming by later in the afternoon to keep you company. Last night, you could barely tell what was a dream and what wasn’t. You swear that as you were about to fall back asleep, you could hear the men’s voices, and the name they call you, although you know it couldn’t be. Eddie was right there.
You feel like your dreams are bleeding into your real life, and for the rest of the day, even after Buck comes over, you feel a little extra jumpy. Buck hardly notices though. He’s so excited to have you taste test his improved brownie recipe that he doesn’t notice the way you jump when he drops his phone right in front of you.
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Almost a week later, you’re at Buck’s apartment. It’s almost sunset, and you’re still sleepy from staying up so late. You’re still in your pajamas, and your eyes feel heavy with sleep as you lounge around his place.
You worked the night before, an earlier shift than the closing ones you’re used to, and when Buck got you back to his apartment, he insisted on having a “sleepover,” as if that wasn’t what you’ve been doing for the last few weeks. When you got to his house, he made you shower and change into pajamas, and when you went down to his living room, he had popcorn, chocolate, chips, and sour candies spread across the coffee table. 
Your heart had swelled at the sight of him looking so proud of himself, and you couldn’t help snuggling up to him when you sat on the blanket-covered couch beside him. Your head stayed in place on his shoulder the entire night, and by the end of the first movie, his hand had made itself firmly at home on your thigh.
You both stayed up until almost 5am, and when you woke up the next day, well into the afternoon, his head was laying back at an awkward angle on the couch and your head was resting in his lap. 
Now, you’re sitting at his kitchen table, one leg crossed under the other as you text Tara, laughing silently about how her closing shift went with the new guy that was nice, as it turned out, but extremely stupid.
“Oh, before I forget; did I leave my sweater here a few days ago? The blue one?” you ask Buck after a few minutes, tearing your eyes away from your phone and looking over to him making dinner.
“Uh, yeah. It’s in my closet. I washed it for you. You got pasta sauce on it.” he tells you, turning and giving you a fake disappointed look as he says the last sentence. You roll your eyes, laughing softly as you stand up from the table.
“Well, thank you.” you begin in a sarcastic tone, “I’m gonna go grab it.” 
Before he has a chance to respond, you’re dragging yourself up to his loft, still feeling a little groggy from staying up so late and sleeping through half of the day.
When you pull open his closet doors, you don’t see your sweater anywhere. Since you don’t want to distract Buck from dinner, you begin to move the clothes around, hoping that maybe your sweater had just fallen off a hanger or is hidden under some of his shirts that are hanging up.
You’re halfway into his closet now as you get on your knees, moving the various articles of clothing on the hardwood floor when you see a sliver of a very familiar mask. Your stomach drops as the shirt you’re holding finally moves away from the mask completely, and you drop the shirt as you kneel there, frozen.
It has to be a coincidence, you think. It can’t be Buck; he’s Buck. 
Buck continues to absentmindedly get dinner ready as you go upstairs, and not even a minute later his eyes widen as he remembers what’s shoved in the back of his closet. His grip tightens on the knife he’s holding as he darts towards the stairs, taking them two at a time as he races to his room.
You whip your head around when you hear him coming up the stairs and get up quickly, but not before Buck gets a perfect peek of you kneeling down from behind, your ass on display for his eager eyes.
Buck can see the uncertainty in your eyes as you stand up, and he knows you’ve found the mask. He takes a step closer, and his eyes darken as he sees you take a step back, a quiet chuckle escaping his throat as he takes in your sheepish demeanour. 
“You weren’t supposed to see that, sweet girl.” he growls as he takes another step closer. He knows he should play dumb, should make up a harmless story about it; it’s what Eddie would do, but he can’t help it. The look in your eyes is so close to fear, and it only makes him push further.
Tears form in your eyes when the realization hits you. The other night when Eddie was over, it wasn’t you dreaming. He had been the one to say it. You can see the predatory look in Buck’s eyes as he stalks towards you, and although you try to move away from the closet and further away from him, he’s still blocking the staircase. 
You let out a soft whimper as your back hits the wall behind you, your whole body shaking as you watch him cross the distance between you. 
When he finally gets to you, you have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes, your lip quivering as you speak.
“No. It can’t be you.” He smirks, his empty hand coming up to rest against the wall beside your head as the one with the knife slowly drags the blade across your neck and down towards your chest.
“It is, baby. Surprised?” he purrs, then leans down towards the crook of your neck as he inhales your scent. You shudder, turning your face away from his as tears fall from your eyes, and he chuckles again. The sound of his dark laugh makes your blood run cold, and in a split second, you’re darting around his large frame and trying to run for the staircase. 
You need to get out of here. Now.
He grabs the back of your shirt before you can get far, however, and you yelp loudly as you’re pulled back against his hard body. You thrash against him, your frightened whimpers echoing through his apartment, but as soon as the knife moves up to your cheek, the sounds die on your lips. 
“There we go, sweet girl. We’re not gonna hurt you. Not if you’re good for us.” he whispers in your ear, his other arm firmly around your plush middle. Your legs almost give out as you realize that you’re not getting out of his strong grip, and even if you do, you’re sure he isn’t planning on merely scaring you with that knife.
“Then take the knife off my neck.” you try to say sternly, but your voice comes out in a shaky whisper. He nibbles on your ear, a smile making its way onto his face.
“If I do, will you run?” he asks in an almost cocky tone. You shake your head quickly, and he smirks, lowering the knife from your neck hesitantly.
“You promise you’re gonna be good for me?” he asks, his breath tickling your ear and making you shiver.
“Yes.” is all you say; it’s all you can force yourself to say. You’re sure that if it wasn’t for his strong body behind yours, your legs wouldn’t be able to hold you up right now.
He throws the knife onto the bed a few feet away, then turns you in his grip, holding your hips firmly as he presses his body against yours.
You search his eyes for any signs of softness you’ve grown used to as he studies your face, but it’s long gone by now. His eyes are filled with lust, and he has a devilish smirk as he leans his head down to capture your lips in a desperate kiss.
You freeze as you feel his lips working against yours, and it’s not until he lets out a low moan that you finally kiss him back, brain cloudy as you give in to him. You know there’s no way out now, so you might as well go along with his actions.
You hate to admit, but he’s an amazing kisser, and you immediately know who the more eager kisser was between the two masked men when they were in your apartment. You can’t help the whimper that escapes your mouth as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and one of his hands moves up to your jaw to tilt your face further up into the kiss.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you like this?” he murmurs against your lips, and you moan again at his words. You can feel the guilt eating away at you as you feel the familiar feeling of desire in the pit of your tummy and the pool between your thighs, and you hate yourself for being so turned on by how desperately he’s kissing you.
He’s just so attractive, and he’s so eager to have his hands and lips on you that you can’t help the inappropriate thoughts filling your brain. 
“I knew when I saw you at work that I had to have you.” he mutters, pulling back just long enough to take in your tear-stained cheeks and heaving chest.
As he leans back in to place kisses on your neck, you suddenly snap out of it. He killed Grace. And Isaac. Right in front of you.
You continue to let him kiss you, however, and when his grip loosens on you for a split second, you’re pushing him away and racing towards the stairs again. His brain is so fogged over with his need for you, that it takes him a second to respond. He grabs the knife off the bed and follows you down the stairs, an angry expression on your face.
You make it all the way to the kitchen before he’s on you again, grabbing your hips and throwing you to the ground. You yelp in pain as you hit the ground, but roll over quickly, trying to fight him off you as he kneels down to straddle your hips. 
He dropped his knife in the struggle to pin you down, so when he’s finally over top of you, looking down with a devious smile, he has to improvise. 
You feel the air ripped from your lungs as his hands go to your throat, tightening more and more as he watches you struggle to breathe. You’re still thrashing in his grip, but he keeps his hold strong until your movements become slow and sloppy. 
As your eyes flutter closed and everything goes black, the last thing you see is him leaning down to whisper in your ear, and the last thing you hear is his rough voice saying “just let us take care of you, sweet girl.”
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tinytalkingtina · 5 months ago
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Wiggly 🧠🪱 Wednesday
@devondespresso Tagged me in this forever ago and I finally had one wiggle its way into my brain!
This week been fiddling with the idea of a true role reversal Steddie, with Eddie as the popular jock and Steve as the metalhead (as opposed to a punk). This got a little away from me, haha. No idea for a story or how other characters might fit in, but if anyone wants to take the concept and run with it feel free!
Eddie
Eddie is still poor, and still lives with his uncle (let's pretend he had to repeat a grade due to the chaos of moving in with Wayne). But he's Hawkin's star track runner/lightweight wrestler, channeling his energy into sports and competition. His grades are probably still not great, but since he's winning awards at meets, teachers let a lot more slide, and he skates by most of his classes with low C's. If he's loud and excited, then well, that's just what jocks do, right?
Wayne works nights, so Eddie is usually left to his own devices. Sure, the trailer can't hold that many people (and maybe Eddie has a bit of a chip on his shoulder that he lives in the trailer park), but this is the Midwest, and Eddie is creative. He hosts big bonfire ragers out in the woods, deep enough that the cops can't easily break them up.
Eddie's "Munson Doctrine" is from the perspective of being a jock. Mixed with his insecurities, it becomes about staying on top, no matter what. That means dating around, taking girls out most Fridays. He likes girls and has plenty of fun. And if he occasionally slips in a fantasy or two about drug dealer Steve Harrington pinning him against a wall with that knife of his, no one needs to know.
Steve
Then we have Steve. Steve's had piano lessons since he was 5. A framed picture of him in his bow tie and tiny suit at his first recital sits on his mom's desk. He's good at sports and does Little League as a kid, but they don't hold his interest, not the way music does. When he hits middle school, him and his dad have a huge fight over him refusing to try out for any sports. The cracks were already there, because his parents are louder than they think when they argue. To drown them out, he turns on the radio, spinning the dials. By chance, he finds a Black Sabbath song. Something in it speaks to him, gives an outlet to the frustration and anger he's feeling.
Steve picks up drums to play in band at school, but he also borrows books from the library and teaches himself guitar after begging his mom for one for his 13th birthday. He makes a few friends, they start a band. As he enters high school his parents fight more. His grades, never great to begin with, slip further, so no more allowance for Steve. The first time he tries to steals a tape, he's caught almost immediately. But he gets better at it over time. Can't steal tattoos though, and Steve's not a great artist. So maybe he starts dealing. His parents work late most nights, so they don't need to know about his...extracurricular hobbies.
Even if he's not at the top of the high school food chain, Steve's still good at reading people and social situations. I don't think he would have the desire to DM AD&D, but I think Steve makes a good player, always solid at strategizing. In the hallways, he sees and overhears things, enough that he's able to keep the heat off him and his friends with some clever insinuation, and the threat to cut off anyone who tries something.
He sees the way that loudmouth jock Eddie Munson's eyes flick down to his lips when he buys weed off him at parties too, the guy isn't nearly as subtle as he thinks he is. Steve would love to take him down a couple pegs, if Eddie'd let him.
Thanks to @little-annie for some ideas on fleshing metalhead!Steve out more :D
Edit: check out the role reversal steddie tag for snippets of what Annie and I are writing now :)
No pressure tags to some folks (and if anyone wants to be tagged in the future let me know!): @augustjustice @hbyrde36 @puppy-steve @soaringornithopter
@hairstevington @eyesofshinigami
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morganbritton132 · 2 years ago
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Eddie doesn’t post much over Parents weekend. When he does post, it’s a picture to the Official Corroded Coffin twitter account of Wayne rocking a vintage CC sweatshirt (vintage as in Eddie made it for him before the band even existed).
Overly invested fans don’t have to fret though because whereas Eddie isn’t posting, the kids are.
Every year they fill out bingo cards with Very Specific Things that they think will happen over the course of the weekend and play to see who gets bingo first. This all plays out across their TikTok accounts because the rule is: if you don’t get a video, it didn’t happen (the rule was made after the cheating scandal of 2016).
The game is always centered around whoever is hosting so this round is Steddie-centric. So, no one makes it obvious that Steve’s mom clearly didn’t show up, but if you’re invested enough in his mama drama than you’d pick up on everybody’s effort to keep him engaged enough that he doesn’t really have to think about it.
(1) The first to get a piece on the board are El, Mike, and Lucas. They manage to catch on video Claudia Henderson fully lifting Steve off his feet when she hugs him. You get three different angles of Dustin next to them with the most ‘are you shitting me?’ look on his face because she hugged Steve first.  This is a staple of these events. It happens every time. Everybody had it on their bingo cards but the others didn’t get it on camera. 
(2) Will has ‘Karen says something that would’ve gotten Steve’s neighbor burned at the stake’ on his card. He posts a TikTok of Karen referring to Steve and Eddie’s salt and pepper shakers as ‘kitschy.’ Steve smiles and says, “I know! Eddie picked them out.”
(3) ‘Eddie stands on a table’ was banned from being on the card because it has happened at every single event ever. ‘Eddie falling off a table and being caught by Steve’ however? Very specific. Weird it happened. Lucas gets points, but also a little side eye.
(4)It’s not going to win Erica any points, but she posts a video of her mom talking to Robin about finding her a good man. Now, don’t get her wrong. Sue Sinclair’s LGBT+ ally-ship is only rivaled by Joyce Byers, but she never remembers that Robin is a lesbian and Robin is always too awkward to correct her. It’s like watching two robots have a conversation because Sue mentions that Dustin is single and Robin is just like, “And…short?”
Eddie is not in the video but you can hear his wheezy laugh next to her. Erica’s just like, “Would you use your inhaler or die somewhere else?”
(5)Dustin posts a video of Steve standing by the window, clearly lost in thought as he stares out at the road. You can see Eddie sneaking up from a distance but instead of scaring Steve, he takes him by the hand and spins him around so they’re facing one another. Dustin isn’t close enough to hear what they’re saying but you can hear him mutter ‘gross’ when Eddie presses Steve up against the window to kiss him.
Steve’s the one to pull Eddie towards the stairs going to the studio, but they don’t actually make it down them because Hopper pulls Steve away to talk to him. There’s an argument between the party in the comments of the video of if this counts as ‘Steve and Eddie sneak off to make out like teenagers in the studio’ because they don’t actually succeed in sneaking away.
(6) Every single person playing gets a video of Hopper looking at Eddie and asking if he’s on drugs. Eddie says, “I don’t doOoOo drugs, Dad. It’s just marijuana.”
Dustin gets an extra point for catching Steve’s eye roll. Eddie has repeated that phrase at least a hundred times since Dustin told him about the Russian elevator.
(7) Max and Dustin both score a point with ‘Steve and El pull a “prank” on Eddie’ and it’s just Steve very confidently claiming that he can roll a nat 20 easy-peasy just by rolling the dice in a special way. Eddie obviously calls bullshit and then Steve rolls a 20 three times in a row.
After the fourth time, Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve and then spins around until he spots El on the other side of the room and points at her like “YOU!!!” No one watching understands this video. There are fights in the comments about what the hell is even happening here.
(8) Max is the only one with ‘Eddie says ACAB’ on her card. She posts a video of her handwritten card and then pans the camera up to Eddie. They’re all sitting around a bonfire later in the evening. Steve’s practically in Eddie’s lap as Eddie says, “-exactly what I mean, ACAB! All cops are bastards!”
Steve: Not Hopper
Eddie: Especially Hopper! Are you kidding me? Do you know how much weed he stole from me?
(9) Mike catches Steve and Eddie sharing a cigarette on the front porch later that night. It’s only after someone edits the video to remove the sound of the wind that you can kinda hear Steve say ‘It’s just that this is kinda it, right? I opened the door and she slammed it in my face.’
Most of the conversation is inaudible, but Joyce catching them and taking the cigarette from them is not. Neither is her shooing them back inside and finishing the cigarette herself.
(10) The party members all end up staying the night and everybody sleeps in the living room since Hopper and Joyce have Steve and Eddie’s bedroom and Wayne has the guest room. Steve and Eddie sleep on the couch because Eddie’s back can’t handle the floor. Max and Lucas get an air mattress, and Dustin claims the other side of the couch with El since they’re the only single people there. Everybody else is on the floor
Max wins bingo with a one-two punch the following morning with Mike complaining that Steve stepped on him with his big ass sleepwalking feet and Dustin posting a picture to his Instagram of him, Claudia, and Steve with the caption “best moms a guy could have.”
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forever-rogue · 2 years ago
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Hiiii 🐻
What about an Eddie fic where they are at an award show nominated in the same category but they are exs. They ended things because right person wrong time type of deal. His career took off and hers was in the early stages.
And he wins the award and spots her in the crowd
Link for reference
https://www.tiktok.com/@editsmcu/video/7045316909562219782?lang=en
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AN | I changed the prompt just a little but I hope y’all enjoy! 🥰
Warnings | Language
Pairing | Modern!Rockstar!Eddie x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.7k
Masterlist | Main, Eddie 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"He's going to be there, you know," the soft tone of her voice caused you to look up from your phone as you caught her eye in the mirror. Your grip around your phone tightened as her expression turned doe-eyed, "Eddie. His band is nominated for a few awards."
You knew that, of course you did. You wouldn't admit that you still closely kept up with what was going on with him. But, despite the fact that you'd broken up almost a year ago, you still cared deeply for him. 
"Oh," you swallowed the thick lump that had welled up in your throat, trying to keep the tears at bay, "well, that's alright. These things will continue to happen and I'll just have to learn to deal with it."
"You'll be okay?" She finished up your hair and settled her gentle hands on your shoulders. She gave you a tender squeeze as you nodded, "if you need anything, you can always text or call me. I'm not your hairdresser but your friend too, and I'm here for you."
"I'll be alright," you promised, heart constricting at the kindness she displayed, "I'll just have to learn how to deal."
"You'll do great, my love," her smile was gentle, "you're solid gold and one day you'll find exactly what you're looking for."
What if you had lost what you had been looking for?
"Thank you."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Eddie was sprawled on the couch in the studio, scrolling endlessly through his social media. A heavy sigh escaped his lips despite his best efforts; he was feeling a type of way he couldn’t quite explain. It wasn’t bored or tired or…anything really, just sort of down. 
“Hey man,” Jeff sat down at the opposite end of the couch causing Eddie to lift his head in question, “I just heard that umm…well, she is going to be there tomorrow night.”
Eddie tried not to let his face light up entirely but it was hard not to perk up at even the smallest mention of you. His heart ached as he pictured your face; it had been so long since he’d even seen you in person. To put it quite frankly, it sucked. 
“Oh?” He tried to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible but even he could hear the curiosity in his voice, “how did you find that out?”
“Seth told me,” ah. Of course their manager would know all about that, “wonder why she’s going. She’s not even a musician, just an actor…maybe she’s someone’s date or something…”
“Date?” and yeah he almost choked on that singular word. The idea of you going on a date made anger bubble in his blood, “you don’t seriously think that she’s dating someone, do you?”
“I dunno man,” Jeff shrugged lightly, “I mean…you were the one that broke up with her. And it’s been almost a year. She's going to date someone else eventually."
"I know!" He snapped, rubbing his tired face with his hands. Jeff recoiled slightly from Eddie's sudden sharpness. He knew that you were still a sore subject for him and he'd hope to negate any bad feelings by warning him that you'd be there. But now he was wondering if he'd made a mistake - maybe Eddie wouldn't even have noticed you.
"I'm sorry, Ed. You'll be alright," he offered him a tight lipped smile, "and it'll be over before we know it."
"Yeah," he replied dismissively, raking a hand through his messy curls, "let's fucking hope so."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"You look amazing."
You studied yourself intently in the mirror, staring at the dark pink dress that you were currently sporting. Your mind had immediately drifted to wondering if Eddie would have liked your dress. He always enjoyed the fact that you were so opposite of him. Sunshine and rain, he'd always said, balancing each other out.
So much for that. But you tried not to dwell on the past. You'd already given into the fact that you would ever be completely over him. A part of your heart would always belong to him.
"Thanks," you smiled but it didn't quite reach your eyes. You were nervous going to the awards show tonight, even if you were just going to accompany one of your friends. 
Your stylist touched up your hair and set your makeup before letting you go. After you slipped on your heels and waited for your ride, you couldn't help but go on to IG and scroll through photos of the red carpet to see who had already arrived. 
Everything was fine until you reached a post that caused your heart to almost stop. There was Eddie, looking as gorgeous as ever, standing on the red carpet with the rest of his band members. You'd be lying if you said you weren't relieved to see that he didn't have a date.
Not that it mattered. Of course not. It was all peaches and he could do whatever he wanted. Even if it would break your heart a little further.
"Your chariot has arrived ," you looked up when you saw Angelica walk through the door. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw her standing there, looking as amazing as you hoped you did too, "ready to go?"
"Yup," you grabbed your bag and walked over to her but you could tell that something was on her mind, "what's wrong?"
"I…Gareth texted me a little while ago. They're already all there," she gave your shoulder as a squeeze. You appreciated all the concern but it really wasn't helping. It would have been preferable to just have everyone ignore the blatant obviousness that Eddie would be there.
"It's fine," you insisted softly, "really. I'd rather just not worry about it at all. It is what it is; he broke up with me and that's it."
"Babe-"
"Seriously," you took her hand and squeezed it gently, "let's just go and have fun."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
One of the many wonderful things about Eddie was that he didn’t really care what anyone thought of him. Even as a world famous rockstar, he couldn’t really be bothered to worry about that. So he didn’t worry about the way he looked around the crowd, blatantly obvious as he scanned the sea of people for you. Unabashed and unashamed as ever. 
Just when he’d almost given up, he found you. Clear across the room, looking stunning as ever and sitting among your friends. He knew them all and he knew that you wouldn’t be anyone’s date, not like that anyway, and that served to put him at ease. A silly, dopey little smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. 
But then he remembered - you weren’t his. Not anymore and more than likely never again. 
“You gonna keep staring all night?” Eddie’s cheeks pinked as he turned his gaze away and back to Jeff, “you couldn’t be anymore obvious!”
“Shut up,” Eddie hissed as he shifted in his seat so he couldn’t look at you as easily, “it was just one look.”
“Mhmm,” he raised an eyebrow and pulled up his phone, showing Eddie a few articles that had already popped up. All about the two of you - speculation that this meant that the two of you were back together or fans attempting to manifest it, “you’re only going to make it worse.”
Eddie folded his arms across his chest and shrugged, “it’ll be fine. Let’s just hope this night goes fast.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
A few hours had passed, in relative ease and peace, and you were relieved to know that it was almost over. Then you could go home, have a hot bath with a glass of wine, and get some much needed sleep. 
But then the award that Eddie’s band was nominated for was announced. You listened to the announcer rattle off the nominees, heart beating wildly in your chest as you hoped that he didn’t win. It was so incredibly selfish, you knew that much, but it was just all too much at once. 
Corroded Coffin won, which didn’t really didn’t come as a surprise to you or anyone else. It was a well deserved and hard fought win, and you knew it should have been them. You clapped along with everyone around you, watching the stage closely as the guys walked on, with Eddie coming up last. Suddenly it seemed like he was the only one in the room and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked good, but worst of all he still looked just like Eddie. 
He hung back as the rest of the band all spoke, but you could see him scanning the crowd. When it was finally his turn, he laughed nervously before looking out into the audience and somehow managing to find you. His eyes looked with yours as a small gasp escaped your lips. You knew that he was aware that he was staring right at you. A smile spread on his face, easy and soft just like the one he’d blessed you with so many times. Despite everything that had happened you couldn’t help but smile back at him. 
It didn’t matter what he was saying, you were only vaguely away of it, the moment was all that mattered. People scattered throughout the audience seemed to catch onto what was happening; you could hear them tittering about and looking at you and back at Eddie. It made your face warm up but none of that mattered. The moment belonged solely to you and Eddie. 
Unfortunately it was over much too soon for your liking and the boys were herded off stage. You turned your attention back to the table and you could feel the silent questions being thrown your way. Ignoring them all you grabbed your glasses and chugged down the rest of the champagne. 
What a series of unfortunate, or perhaps fortunate, events.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
After it was all said and done and you were ready to head home, insisting on taking a cab so and skipping the afterparty, much to Angelica’s dismay, you made your way out of the building, heels in hand. It was quiet here and allowed you a few moments to breathe and absorb all that happened. 
Then you heard your name being called out. Urgently and loudly, in a voice you’d heard so many times before. You had two options - keep walking and pretend you hadn’t heard or didn’t care, or face him. You knew which one you wanted, long before the opportunity had even presented itself. 
You turned around and found Eddie running towards you, his curls bouncing wildly. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, attempting to catch his breath. 
“Eddie?” your voice was small, so soft he almost didn’t hear it. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, “what are you doing here?”
“You,” he said softly as your expression turned doe-eyed; that look always made him look weak in the knees, “miss you - had to see you.”
“You missed me?” he nodded, taking a last gasping breath before straightening up and looked at you.Your brain felt like it was turning to much as you tried to process everything taht was going, “what do you mean?”
“I fucked up,” he shrugged and threw up his arms in exasperation. He was so mad at himself for ever letting you go, “I fucked up and I lost and I just…I really fucking miss you.”
“Eddie, you’re the one that broke up with me,” you blinked back tears as he ran a hand through his messy curls, “but now you miss me?”
“I should never have broken up with you,” he shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping those plush lips you so desperately missed kissing, “biggest mistake ever.”
“Then why did you?”
“I…I thought I was doing the right thing,” he explained, “I thought I was going enough for you and with things really taking off with the band, it felt like I didn’t have enough time for you and didn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated. It seemed like the right thing at the time. I figured that maybe you would fine someone that deserves you but honestly, I really hate the fucking idea of anyone else having you.”
“Oh. Oh,” the realization crashed over you like ice cold waves, “well, I admit the idea behind breaking up with me was admirable, but deciding how I felt wasn’t exactly your choice. I never thought you weren’t good enough or didn’t give me enough of you. Eddie, I was so in love with you, nothing else mattered. We could have figured things out together - we always have. I never wanted anyone else, and no one even crossed my mind. Even now, almost a year later.”
“Really?” he choked on his question, feeling his own eyes start to burn with tears.
“Yeah,” you promised him, reaching over to give his arm a gentle squeeze, “it’s getting late. I should head home.”
“Ba - wait-”
“It was good to see you,” and you meant it. It was good to see him, and hear him out, and maybe it would serve as a bit of closure. You tried to walk away, but he held onto your hand and gently kept you from walking away, “Eddie?”
“Wait, just,” he stammered as he tried to format even a coherent sentence, “I-I love you. I’m still in love with you, I never stopped. Fuck, I don’t ever want anyone else. No one, just you.”
“Eddie-”
“Give me another chance,” those words made your mouth drop open as you blinked at him a few times, “please. I’ll do anything, just…don’t walk away. I don’t deserve another chance, and I’m an asshole, I know that. But please…one chance is all I’m asking for. I don’t think that this is the end of our story, I think that we’re-”
You caught him by surprise, cutting off his rambling by taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips to his. It was the first time you’d kissed him in so long, but it still felt so right, so magically wonderful. His large, warm hands settled on your waist as he pulled you into him and continued to kiss you deeply. 
Neither of you were willing to break apart until you were both left dizzied and breathless. He pressed his forehead to yours, a smile dancing on his lips as you exchanged soft chuckles. 
“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you whispered before pressing a kiss to his lips, “but you’re my idiot. And I think you’re right…”
“Hmm?”
“I’ve never thought about anyone else but you either,” that made his entire face light up with happiness, “and I think you and I have a very long story ahead of us.”
“Yeah?” 
“Yes,” you promised, “you’re it for me, rockstar. You always have been and will be.”
“Baby,” he let out a slow breath, feeling like he was able to properly breathe for the first time in a long time. He took your face and peppering it in kisses, causing you to giggle at the ticklish sensation, “let me take you on a date. Let’s go right now.”
“It’s almost one in the morning-” 
“And our favorite diner is open 24/7,” and yeah. You were in love with this fool, “and I don’t know about you but I’m starving. The little bits of fancy food they served were definitely not enough. Whaddaya say?”
“Let’s go,” you moved to slip your heels back on but Eddie stopped. He kneeled down and motioned for you to get on his back; you laughed but did so nonetheless, climbing onto his back as he held onto your heels. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling his familiar scent, “I love you, Eddie.”
“I love you too, baby. So fuckin’ much.”
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rocknrollsalad · 17 days ago
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rating: gen cw: bad dates tags: hallmark movie au, hockey player eddie, sad sack steve, christmas tree farms, eddie's weird charm works too well word count: 997
written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "hot chocolate"
Eddie had been helping his uncle out with the last-minute rush, the people who forgot to buy a Christmas and were now looking at the saddest saplings in the lot. No amount of creative salesmanship was going to make these trees worthy but people didn’t care. Not this close to the deadline. And Eddie had been happy to pawn them off, it meant he didn't have to haul them out later.
It’d been a good day, one Wayne offered to wrap up because he knew where his nephew wanted to be. Eddie didn’t wait for the offer to finish before he was booking it down to the rink they’d added to their Christmas wonderland fifteen years ago. He laced up his skates and joined the handful of others out enjoying the night.
Somewhere in his third warm-up lap, Eddie caught a guy sitting in the stands by himself and watching the figure skater who was taking up center ice. He was gorgeous, bundled up in a way that was equal parts fashion and warmth. Beside him sat two cups of something warm and a thing of popcorn. He was probably on a date with that figure skater. That's the way that worked, right? Still, Eddie took a second for the view.
When Wayne hit the lights on the tree lot, the guy was still there. Elbows on his knees, watching the entrance a little more than the ice. Still two untouched drinks and a full bag of popcorn. Eddie didn’t see the figure skater but maybe she’d gone off to change.
The other dates had slowly left the ice until it was Eddie and three teenagers. Officially marking Eddie’s favorite time of night. He skated off to the booth and switched the softly playing Christmas music into blaring loud metal music.
He came back out to find it hadn't scared their spectator off, he was drinking one of the cups now and watching as the teenagers tried to push one of their friends over. Eddie stood on the ice and stared at the guy, trying to figure out what was going on. Before he creeped the stranger out, Eddie went and joined in with the kids.
After Eddie had toppled all of the kids, managed to stay upright himself, and the album finished, it was time to call it a night. The saddest new fixture was still in the stands, defeated and out of popcorn. And, honestly, Eddie had been good enough. He was done.
Skating off the ice, he chased the teenagers out and locked up. A quick swap to shoes, a trip through the concessions stand, and back to the bleachers where he now trusted this man would be, Eddie took action.
Passing over a cup of old but still warm cocoa, Eddie tried to carefully walk the line between caring and making jokes, “Wanna talk about it, champ?”
“Oh thank god,” The guy breathed, accepting the cup. “It’s not super obvious?”
“Well, I did think maybe you woke up this morning with ice powers and you were trying to test them out because this is where I’d go do to that but I never saw the ice change and you’re not even wearing any blue so that doesn’t seem like the most obvious choice but I could still be wrong.”
Eddie took a drink as the other just blinked.
“Wanna help me walk the grounds?”
“Huh?”
“I have to check everything out before I leave, ya know? Make sure people aren’t hiding or lost.”
“Does that happen?” the guy asked as he stood up.
“Not really but my uncle said one time, before I was born, some guy tried to break in and steal some trees.”
“What wou-”
“Your trash, man. C’mon. I know you had a bad night but I’ll have to come back and clean that shit up. You’re closing up shop with me, get it together.”
The guy grumbled but took a few steps back to grab the now empty cups and popcorn bag. He crumpled them up and stuffed them into the pocket of a jacket that fit him so well it had to be tailored. Eddie thought the guy was nice on the eyes sitting down but up close? Seeing the whole picture, he was out of his league.
“Alright, you’re hired,” Eddie teased, showing he was pleased even as the guy acted like it was punishment. He took a few steps down the stairs, trusting he was followed. “So she stood you up?”
Eddie could hear the way it tensed the guy up. “Yeah,” he finally said. “And you want to know the fucked up part?”
“That’s my favorite part!” Eddie laughed.
“It would have been our third date.”
Oh god. That was fucked. Eddie turned around and looked at the man, wishing for anything more to say than “I’m sorry.”
“I knew it wasn’t going to work out but I didn’t know it was going to crash and burn,” he said.
Eddie led them into the concessions stand so he could make sure everything was shut off. “I think I’m supposed to say some stuff about it being her loss but no way you don’t know that so can I offer you a bag of nacho cheese to slap? Always makes me feel better.”
“I’m Steve, by the way,” the guy said, pulling himself up on the counter, leaning against the now-closed gate. His eyes were brighter and Eddie swore he could see a smile.
“Eddie. Munson.”
“Ah, so this is all yours then?”
“Nah, I’m the heir to the throne. The only so they can’t let anything happen to me.”
“Must be nice.”
“Yeah, I know you hear about what a burden the Christmas tree farm game is all the time, the media won’t stop saying how dangerous it is but I don’t live in fear. I can’t let them win.”
Steve smiled, lopsided and bright. "Wanna get out of here?"
Eddie nodded. He really did.
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kenphobia · 2 years ago
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Hellooo, therapy is expensive but reading your stories about silly puppets it's free.
So, I was wondering if I could ask for some imagines of Wally Darling (yeah, again, sorry 😭) with a s/o whose love language is giving gifts? Like, they love to shower Wally (and their other friends) in all kind of gifts no matter the time or place.
I hope that wasn't too confusing and I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.
KINDERGARDEN GAMES!
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"T-a-n-g-a ka talaga, Wally." "... What—"
summary. wally is a puppet who loves his neighbors equally and cherishes them in many ways. but when his lover does gift giving more than him, he gets a bit competitive. ( headcanons / 0.9k wc / read end notes )
contents. general fluff, straight up romantic dynamic, implied filipino!wally, bits of playful Wally slander ( nsfw blogs dni )
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✦ It started simple, nothing too big or fancy. When you brough him those oil pastels Wally had been eying for a while, he couldn't help but feel flustered. It's not like he haven't received gifts before, few of his neighbors love to give him little presents too, but it was different when it comes to you.
✦ Of course, he accepts with a smile and a slightly flushed face.
"Thanks, (Name)! I really, really appreciate this." Wally paused, switching his gaze from the oil pastels to you in a nervous manner. "I, um, I'll make sure to make great use of it."
You smiled, patting his hair carefully as to not accidentally deform the pompadour he spent half an hour styling and 5 whole bottles of glue. "Well, I'm glad you liked it! I have to go now though, Sally needs me with setting up her stage for tomorrow's play. See you later, Walls!"
Wally waved you goodbye, watching you leave and your figure getting farther and farther, completely disappearing as you turned a corner. He finally focused his gaze to the box in his hands, a gentle smile caressed his face.
For a short moment, He remembered how your eyes twinkled and reflected the warm light. Wally's gaze softened, humming as he went inside his house. He has an idea what to do using the oil pastels you gave him.
✦ It was sweet, Wally would say, but he wouldn't admit how he had dreames of the whole thing several times. Or well, daydreamed since he doesn't sleep. Home had a couple of incidents and scolding Wally for letting his paintbrush go and getting paint on the carpet.
✦ Wally didn't think much of it though, but appreciated it finely. That is until he received some homemade mint chocolate cookies at his doorstep. Eddie had given it to him, informing him that it came from no other than the lovely you.
✦ (Wally doesn't miss Eddie side-eying though. Sadly, not everyone can appreciate mint chocolate like Wally does.)
✦ It didn't just stop there, no, why would it? From cookies to handcrafted beaded jewelry of his favorite colors to little letters and poems to cute little doodles of you and him being pinned on his fridge everyday— Your gifts were endless and Wally wonders how could you make so much in just a span of an hour.
✦ He doesn't have the right to judge you after making multiple portraits of you and sending some of them immediately to your home. It was a lot, but after all of you wonderous gifts that kept him awake and thinking at every hour, your front porch became bombarded with many paintings.
✦ Wally started doing art in other ways too. Pottery, watercolour, jewelries, etc. He even sent a whole basket of (definitely not stolen) apples to your door! The whole gift giving suddenly became a war between who could show their affection more than the other.
✦ Eddie had to intervene because he had been delivering gifts to both your houses every single day. Doesn't bother Wally though, it gives him the advantage of simply entering your home with a key he secretly copied and stuff all of his heartfelt gifts.
✦ You did caught him one time in your room, hanging up pictures of you, some of them were mainly focused on your eyes. You aren't exactly sure how to feel about it, both the paintings and the crime he had just committed.
Arriving to your humble abode, you furrowed your brows upon finding the front door unlocked. You quickly entered inside, trying your best at staying quiet while you put your stuff down on the sofa and wanderes around your home for the intruder.
The neighborhood isn't exactly a crime-filled place, but you still can't shake off the feeling of dread bubbling in your stomach. You gripped the house keys in your hands so firmly that you swear the plastic could cut through your palm.
You neared your room, breath hitching at the sound of shuffling and murmuring. You squinted through the darkness, seeing your bedroom door wide open and the lights turned on. Quickly, you rushed closer and hoped that the intruder wouldn't hear your panicked steps.
"Oh... That wouldn't work at all. Let's try this position." A voice suddenly pierced through the silence. It was soft, warm and awfully familiar that it made bits of your dread disappear slowly.
You leaned against the wall, turning your head and peeking from the doorway. Immediately, you locked your eyes at a portrait of you sitting idly on your bed and then to the blue cardigan the stranger was wearing.
Wait a second, That's not a stranger. No, that's—!
"Wally? What are you doing here?" You voiced out, walking in as your boyfriend turned to face you. His eyes wide in surprise, nearly dropping the painting. You found yourself deadpanning at what was on the canvas, it was a painting of you and Wally unsurprisingly.
Wally smiled, albeit nervously. "O-Oh, *Mahal! You're home earlier than I expected."
You hardened your gaze, squinting at his form as you crossed your arms. "Wally, why are you in my house?"
"Well, you see, Mahal..." Wally began, putting down the painting and making it lean on the wall. "I— I will explain it to you tomorrow. Byee!"
You didn't have a chance to say anything before Wally ran up to your window and jumping out, breaking plastic glass and leaving your room in a state of disaster.
That noseless bastard.
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notes. did i completely forgot abt the other neighbors? yes. do i regret it? no. sorry, howdy 😔 but yaya!!! another wally fic, turned out a bit shorter than I like and more crackshippy but that's fineee
i hope you like it tho!!! this was fun to make and i rlly tried racking my brain for any creative juice.
inbox is always open, so come on by again for more wally slander /lh
*mahal - love in tagalog
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munsonburn3r · 6 months ago
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Breaking the Cycle
I started wondering about the types of things Eddie Munson would study in college and it turned into this. Not edited and a little stream of consciousness blurb. Enjoy how sweet our boy is here.
Having thoughts about college!Eddie...
When he finally graduates from Hawkins High, Wayne encourages him to do something after high school. “You don’t have to go to school, but you gotta find somethin’. Everyone’s gotta have something to be good at, Ed.”
So, he enrolls in the local community college and takes a little bit of everything. Just to get his feet wet. He figured he’d end up majoring in auto tech or going the trade route — but it’s the social sciences that surprisingly grab him.
His "Intro to Sociology" class has a service learning portion that requires him to volunteer at the Boys and Girls Club. At first, he’s not happy (hadn’t he just gotten past babysitting when he left Hawkins High?), but he quickly warms up to the idea when he spends time with the kids. They’re from rough backgrounds, like him. Some are in foster care and some live with relatives or are surfing couches. But all of them flock to Eddie, because he’s cool, he’s fun, he’s goofy, and he doesn’t treat them like they’re broken.
And after talking with one of his professors about other classes that might allow him to keep working with kids, his professor suggests majoring in social work. He's skeptical. Him? A social worker? He never pictured himself as a 9-5, dockers and button ups kind of guy. But his professor tells him to just try it, that he'd be great at it, and how rewarding it is.
So, Eddie surprises himself by graduating on time with an undergraduate degree in social work. He's even more surprised when he's offered a graduate assistantship to finish his master's -- something he'll need to get any sort of good paying job in the field.
Before he knows it, he's a licensed social worker in the state of Indiana. He immediately finds a job working in the local school system with kids that come to school with unwashed clothes, empty bellies, and days of sleep clouding their eyes. They're kids that remind him a little too much of himself from years ago.
This time, he's the adult staring at the scrawny kid who'd been caught stealing money from a teacher's desk so that he could buy his first meal in two days. But instead of belittling the kid, or embarrassing him, or looking down at him with that mixed glare of pity and disgust that Eddie had been so privy to in his younger days, he's reaching into the cabinet next to them in his office to grab a grocery sack full of various snacks and non-perishables. He's handing it to the boy in front of him as he tells him about an equally scrawny kid who used to steal whatever he could stuff into his jacket from Melvald's, whose dad taught him to hotwire instead of how to catch a ball, whose future could have been drastically different had his uncle not pushed him to be the man he is today.
When the kid leaves a half hour later with a trace of an upturned smile and a sweetly awkward fist bump, Eddie remembers why he does this. As he starts the paperwork for food assistance and begins dialing the boy's number to check in the with the family, to offer to help in any way he can, he thinks of himself at 20 -- a three time senior and social pariah who sold drugs to Hawkin's finest to help keep the trailer warm -- and his eyes threaten mist.
Going to college and working in social work was by far the hardest thing he'd ever done, but he'd done it. And he'd work the rest of his career to be the person he'd needed as a kid. To make all of this generation's 'Eddie Munsons' realize they aren't defined by their situation.
That they too could break the cycle.
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vanmarkus · 8 months ago
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in theory I love the 'they both lost someone and found each other in grief' but I think that would diminish what they have. as if they're second best almost :/ that already annoys me a little with them bringing shannon back again and again (and again), with eddie thinking that's the only magic he ever had - when actually, they had quite a lot of problems
well I get that as a viewer you might feel like they are overdoing it, but the thing with grief is that it never goes away and sure, they had a lot of problems; getting pregnant at 18-19 is not a joyride.
raising a kid when you still don't even have an idea who you are is hard enough, but then add into the mix Eddie's military time and Shannon's dying mother and her having to deal with Eddie's parents and figuring out how to care for a kid with special needs on top of it all.
it was a complicated relationship, but after they reconnected, after Eddie allowed Shannon back into his life with Christopher (which again, Eddie was mostly absent for 6 years, Shannon was gone for like one by the looks of it and Eddie was the one "allowing" her back ugh lots to unpack there) he was happy with her.
up to the point where she wanted a divorce, so she could become the right person to raise Christopher before she tried to become the right person to be with Eddie.
it stung and it made him angry but then she died and the anger didn't go away, but it got caught up in the grief and excitement of love he was feeling just before and after.
the reason I'm going into this (though not in so much detail cuz then we'd be here until tomorrow) is to show just how complicated his feelings about Shannon are. now consider the fact that he has to see Christopher, a living, breathing reminder of Shannon every single day.
and he wants to do right by him and he thinks that'd equal doing right by himself too, because that's how it was with Shannon; they were high school sweethearts, they were married, they had a kid. it's the picture perfect family, especially when you look at it from a christian angle — which does seem to be something coming up for Eddie this season.
Buck on the other hand? he is everything Eddie wants and needs, but he's far from that picture. he's a guy for starters and at this point we don't even know if Eddie has ever entertained the possibility of something like that, then he is his coworker, which isn't exactly ideal, even though we as a fandom love to sidestep that part.
they have the bond, the affection and possibly the attraction, but for Eddie to see it that way, he needs to let go of the idea of the picture perfect family, that's step one.
and he can't do it until he lets go of the idea of Shannon too, which frankly (though I love what they did with that season) I think would've already happened in s5 had Tim not left. so now he's working backwards as he's trying to fix the mess they made of all the characters' storylines in his absence.
but yeah, Eddie will always grieve Shannon, so it doesn't matter how complicated their relationship was objectively, that'll be a part of his endgame relationship no matter who it will be with and regardless of them also grieving someone as well or not.
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princessamericachavez · 2 years ago
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911 6x13 CODA
“Are you sure she isn’t mad at me?” Buck asks for the fifth time as Eddie pulls over by his place.
It’s always a little strange, when Eddie drives them. Usually, if it’s the two of them, it’s Buck at the wheel. Eddie isn’t sure why it is —he doesn’t mind driving and does it well enough and often enough when he isn’t going somewhere with Buck— and he doesn’t know when it started. At some point, maybe around the big Earthquake a few years ago, Buck drove him somewhere for the first time and then they never stopped. He’s used to having him on his left, that’s all, and the switch throws him off a little… like when you flip a picture of yourself on your phone and get the angle others see of your face, rather than the one you know from the mirror, or when a married couple exchanges bed sides during a trip.
But Eddie had insisted on driving tonight. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise.
“I told you, Buck, it’s fine. The chief was joking. Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Eddie sighs, dramatically, and rolls his eyes to drive the point home that Buck is worrying over nothing.
“I mean, she’s probably pissed that you outplayed her, but it’s a friendly game. I’m sure she didn’t take it personally.”
Buck’s mouth still twists unhappily and Eddie feels frustration raising in his chest. He’d been so close tonight to erasing that frown that has permanently settled into Buck’s expression. He’d gotten him to relax and smile and have fun like before. Why can’t he make it last?
“Buck,” he calls, with that tone that usually means ‘stop spiraling’ or ‘maybe not now’ or ‘we’ve talked about this’. It works perfectly, like always. He can see his best friend’s eyes snap back into focus as they find him. “Stop worrying, would you? It’s okay. I promise.”
And just like that, like Eddie’s words hold some unavoidable truth, Buck’s shoulders drop with relief.
“Fine, fine. Sorry, I just-“
“I know,” Eddie smiles.
He does. He knows how Buck can’t take people disliking him, or being mad at him, or possibly cutting him off. He’s learned in the past several years that Buck cannot fathom that he might mess up or piss someone off and that they won’t immediately leave him forever. As if Buck was easy to discard at the faintest fault.
“Listen, did you have fun?”
Buck blinks, confused. Eddie swears he could kill him sometimes.
“Buck, did you have fun tonight?”
“Uh, yeah…” a smile breaks across Buck’s face, a hint of that cocky confident smirk he’d had on all night. The sight of it warms Eddie’s chest.
“Good,” he nods. “That’s the point.”
“I thought the point was testing my new abilities,” Buck snorts, giving him a mocking suspicious squint.
“Oh, yeah, that too. But we’re gonna have to finesse your lying if we are taking this to Vegas because you can’t pretend worth shit and if we get caught there I think we’ll be in far more trouble than some nagging from the Chief.”
Buck barks a laugh, loud and cheerful, that finally eases Eddie’s own tensions and reminds him tonight was completely worth it.
“Yeah, I don’t think Bobby is going all the way to Vegas to bail us out.”
Now it’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. Though he’s pretty sure their Captain would come to their aid, at least for the pleasure of scolding them.
“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck sighs, still smiling. “I had fun tonight.”
“Me too.”
In fact, Eddie’s had more fun the past couple days than in the last two months. He’d nearly forgotten how much better it is at work and at home when Buck is around. He’d missed having his partner’s crazy antics and curious facts and earnest smile around. With Buck, Eddie felt like a version of himself he barely knew growing up. Somehow lighter, giddier, closer to his son’s sunshine disposition than his own.
Unaware of Eddie’s thoughts, Buck has taken their exchange as a goodbye and is gathering his cut (pun intended) of their winnings. They’d split them equally, even if they were technically all Buck’s. It was just something they did. He didn’t question it, neither of them did anymore.
“Hey, you wanna come in for one last beer?” Buck asks, clutching his half of the prize.
Funny enough, this is the question someone asks after a first date to invite people up for more than drinks. Funny enough, Buck has probably made this same offer to dozens of girls before. Funny enough, Eddie is tempted to say yes. It’d be so easy, such a normal thing for them to do, but still…
“I can’t,” he sighs, and tries not to think about the way Buck’s face drops. “I promised to help Pepa with her home renovations tomorrow morning and then we’ve got a long shift and Christopher somehow talked himself into bringing cookies for his entire class on Monday and I don’t even know when we’ll get to that, so I’m probably going to be baking tonight-“
“His whole class?!” Buck arches his eyebrows. “Eddie, that’s forty seven kids!” A fact that he probably knew even before lightning rewired his math skills. “Your oven can fit a sheet with maybe ten cookies at a time, twelve at most. With a cooking time of twelve minutes each, that’s gonna be-“
“Buck! Enough with the math, okay? I know. I know…”
He really does know. He knows it’s going to be a long night. He knows it’s going to suck. He also knows that it’s important for Christopher and that he should’ve gotten to it earlier on the week (but then the cookies wouldn’t be fresh and Chris had been very adamant about making a good impression with them).
Eddie wishes it was easier. He wishes he had enough time to do it all. He wishes he could manage everything, that he could be a single father and work a full time job and go out with his best friend some times and still manage to help his son with his school projects. It’s just too much sometimes. And he-
“I’ll do it.”
Eddie blinks out of his silent spiral to look at Buck, who seems entirely at ease with the statement like he isn’t saving Eddie’s life.
“What?”
“You know Bobby’s still got me working short shifts,” he shrugs. “I’ll be off early after our shift on Sunday. I can pick Chris up from Pepa’s and we’ll make the cookies at my place while you finish yours.”
Not for the first time tonight, Eddie’s chest feels like it’s about to burst with something embarrassingly close to adoration. He didn’t even ask, didn’t even say- but ever since they met, Buck has had a nearly supernatural ability to anticipate to Eddie’s needs, to be there when he didn’t even know how to ask for help.
“What would I ever do without you?” He sighs.
It’s a light statement. Something he’s said before between them when Buck makes life easier and happier just by being there. It’s also the wrong thing to say. There’s a heaviness to it that catches them both off guard. Because Eddie knows now what life might feel like without Buck. Three minutes and seventeen seconds without him. Three days of sleeplessness and terror. The overwhelming possibility that his absence would become permanent and stretch forever… And Buck, something flashes across his face too, something akin to pain and fear.
Fuck. Fuck he shouldn’t have said that. He cannot bare the thought of undoing tonight’s happiness with the wrong words.
“Thanks, Buck,” he adds, putting a hand on his shoulder that somehow manages to ground them both. “I’m sure Chris will love that.”
The smile that breaks through Buck’s face could light the whole night in a flash.
“Really? You think?”
“Are you kidding me? He loves any excuse to spend time with you. And he still claims your cooking is better than mine.”
It works. Buck laughs loudly and the tension dissipates like smoke clearing out after a fire.
“Claims,” Buck snorts dramatically. “It’s just facts, Diaz!”
“Uh-huh, sure, sure,” he teases back. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Is this your way of asking to save you cookies on Sunday?”
“Well, you could do that, or I could deprive some poor little kid of theirs and blame it on your lousy maths.”
Buck’s eyes sparkle with amusement as he gives Eddie’s shoulder a gentle push, breaking the invisible touch barrier between them for the second time tonight.
“I’m good at math now, Eds. You can’t say that!”
“Well, the kids don’t know that,” he chuckles.
Buck laughs. So Eddie laughs too, because it’s nearly impossible not to share on Buck’s joy (part of the reason he’s smiled tonight more than in the entire past two months combined).
“Okay, okay, gotta put these in the freezer before they thaw and Bobby kills me,” Buck sighs, opening the car door. “Rain check on that beer?”
“Rain check,” Eddie agrees, like it’s a promise.
Buck gifts him that golden smile in return and Eddie- well, his chest feels about to burst once more.
“Okay,” Buck says, closing the door with his bicep. “Get some rest, Eddie.”
“You too, human calculator.”
Buck laughs again, loud like thunder and bright like sunshine. Eddie carries that sound with him all the way to his house. He’s going to get quite a bit of ribbing from the Chief and Mehta next week, but tonight was definitely worth it.
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