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El Hopper Stranger Things | Season Two, Chapter Two: Trick Or Treat, Freak
#elhopperedit#elevenedit#strangerthingsedit#dailystrangerthings#tvstrangerthings#stedit#janehopperedit#jane hopper#el hopper#stranger things#millie bobby brown#tvfilmsource#strangersource#tvedit#stladies#*#series: stranger things#ch: eleven
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#2023 January wrap up#series: bleach#series: naruto#series: stranger things#series: maximum ride#series: smythe-smith quartet#series: shadow bruja#winterwood#the wicked deep#Hawkins horror#series: the foxglove king
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Any queer man in fiction can’t have a healthy relationship. All they know is pining, divorce, cause the apocalypse, wear silly costume, fight they homo boyfriend, trauma, be disastrous, eat hot chip & lie.
#destiel#deancas#spn#supernatural#dean winchester#castiel#lokius#loki series#loki#viktor hargreeves#the umbrella academy#evan buckley#eddie diaz#buddie 911#911 abc#byler#will byers#mike wheeler#stranger things#bagginshield#borogorn#the hobbit#lord of the rings#cherik#charles xavier#erik lehnsherr#magneto#professor x#xmen
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Polaroid #1 May 28th, 1987
#inklessletter#trust the process#trust the series#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#domestic love#black and white#digital illustration#fanart#digital fanart#stranger things fanart#st fanart#steddie fanart#polaroid effect#bw#almost kiss
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Chalkboard Hearts - S.H
Pairing - KindergartenTeacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader
WC - 4.3k
Contains - strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, so much fluff, teacher!steve and mom!reader. No descriptions are given of reader or abbey, other than that abbey has curly hair, steve and reader are the same age (about 24-25), set early-mid 90's
AN - i don’t write for kids often so i hope this reads well and is realistic. i don’t have a clear end for this series in mind, so i’m gonna keep writing it for as long as y’all want it :) feel free to send requests for blurbs for this AU if you so wish and as always, thank you - emma
“Moooooom,”
You hear a tiny voice whisper in your ear. Most mornings started this way, if not all of them. Whoever said getting children out of bed in the morning was difficult had clearly never met Abbey. Every day you peeled your tired eyes open to see the miniature version of them staring back at you, the only difference being they were much wider, and lacking the distinct fog of leftover sleep.
Today her hair was sticking up in all different directions; frizzy curls here and tangled knots there. Your daughter takes after you in many ways, one being that she’s an active sleeper and it shows when she wakes up. Her bed was always disheveled; embroidered blankets strewn across her bedroom floor and little red lines indented in her cheeks where they had been smushed against her pillow.
“Mornin’ Ab,” you say, voice gravelly with disuse. “Have you made your bed yet?” you eye her suspiciously.
You know she hasn’t and she confirms as much when she spins on her heel and dashes for her room down the hall. Truthfully, you couldn’t care less if her bed was made or not, it was merely a guise to buy you a few extra minutes of peace and quiet each morning.
︵୨୧︵
When she doesn’t reappear, you assume she’s gotten distracted and decide to make your way downstairs to scrounge for something to eat. You never ate breakfast before you had Abbey; either for lack of time or because the smell of food so early in the morning made you nauseous. Eating three meals a day was just one bullet point on the long, running list of changes in your routine since becoming a mother.
Two bowls of Frosted Flakes were set out on the table after deciding there was no time for anything more nutritious.
“Abbey!” You call, “Breakfast!”
You hear the sounds of sniffling and small feet padding on hardwood as she enters the kitchen– pouting. You try not to gape at the utter monstrosity of an outfit she's put on. She whines, “I don’t know what I want to wear!”
You sense a meltdown coming already, on today of all days. Pre-school was easy, as Abbey was a fairly agreeable kid. Or at least she used to be. Lately it felt like you had to battle her about anything and everything.
“You look so beautiful, Ab!” you reassure her, attempting to deescalate the impending tantrum. She has on pink corduroy pants and a frilly forest green blouse. For accessories she’s sporting a chunky plastic necklace that definitely came with a dress-up kit, along with a tutu. You have no idea where the tutu came from.
Eventually she decides not to fight you, at least not on her outfit. However, as she climbs into the kitchen chair, she scowls down at the soggy cereal in front of her and asks in the most darling tone she can muster,
“Can I have Scooby fruit snacks instead?”
“How about I pack some in your lunchbox today and you can eat them at snack time?” you try to barter.
Sneaking a glance at the clock, it mocks you with its unforgiving hands– you’re going to be late and your daughter will have skipped supposedly the most important meal of the day. Some mother you are.
“But I want them right now!” Her petite fists bang against the wooden table and she’s a heap of dramatics wriggling in her chair.
“Hey, what did we talk about? Yelling is not nice, even when we’re frustrated. Right?” She acknowledges you with a teary nod along with more crying and petulant moaning that can be heard as you run to the bathroom and grab a hairbrush with two bows. When you return, she’s still moping over her breakfast, but taking bites nonetheless. A win is a win.
You begin detangling the mess of knots and snarls at the back of her head. “Ouch, Mommy!” she cries when you try to comb through a particularly tangled section.
You place one of your hands over the crown of her head like a claw in a poor attempt at keeping her from squirming, “The more you move the longer it takes, sweetheart,”
“Hmph.” she pouts, folding her arms over her chest. When all is said and done, your daughter has her hair parted and tied into two high pigtails, secured with little pink bows, and you’re rushing her out of the front door with haste.
︵୨୧︵
In all the hubbub, you realize you’ve barely gotten yourself ready. Reaching over to buckle Abbey into her carseat, she asks,
“When can I sit up front with you?”
“When you’re this many,” You hold out both your hands to display all ten fingers.
She mimics you with her own smaller fingers, “Ten?”
“That’s right!” You smack a kiss on the crown of her head as you pull back, she smells like her strawberry scented shampoo.
“Watch your feetsies,” you warn and she tucks her legs unnecessarily far into her chest as you close the door.
The ride is filled with the usual nonsensical ramblings of a five-year-old. She beams back at you through the rearview mirror, eyes sparkling and nodding fervently when you ask if she’s excited to make some new friends today. Your social butterfly, the complete antithesis of you.
The elementary school is only a few miles from your home, and before you know it you’re circling a crowded parking lot and preparing to drop your only child off for her first day of kindergarten. The rush of emotions you feel are indecipherable, something like a mix of somberness, excitement, relief, and anxiety.
As you walk towards the front of the building, you’re surrounded by dozens of kids aged five through twelve greeting their teachers and saying ‘Hello’ to friends they haven’t seen all summer. The teachers are holding laminated signs that indicate their name and what grade they teach; thank God for that. Abbey’s little fist squeezes around your index finger and you can tell she’s becoming nervous, despite her previous unbridled anticipation.
“Hey, it’s okay,” You assure, “Look, I think that’s your teacher right there,” you point towards a tall, brunette man standing near the double doors.
A shy smile tugs at the corners of her lips when she sees the teacher in question. He’s dressed in a striped button-down shirt and khakis, with a lanyard dangling from his front pocket; the typical teacher attire.The sign he’s holding reads, ‘Mr. Harrington’ and just below that, ‘Kindergarten’ with a little cartoon apple printed next to his name. He looks young compared to the rest of the staff, closer to your own age. This must be his first year teaching.
As you approach him, Abbey treks in front, eager to meet him. Her backpack is adorned with sparkly butterflies and it covers nearly her entire torso; bumping the backs of her knees with every step she takes.
The man crouches down to her level and greets her, “Hey there,” he offers a warm smile, “what’s your name?”
“Abbey,” she says timidly, twiddling her fingers and flashing a toothy grin at him. She doesn’t bother with her last name, honestly you’re not positive that she even knows it.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Abbey,” he holds a gentle hand out for her to shake and she does so hesitantly, “My name’s Mr. Harrington, and I’m going to be your teacher this year. How does that sound?” The way he’s so patient and attentive with her stirs something within you that you haven’t felt in years, but he’s a teacher, for goodness sake. He looks up then, locking eyes with you and rising back to his full height.
This time, it’s your turn to shake his hand. “I’m Steve.” He flashes you a smile directly out of a Colgate ad and you hope you’re not blushing as much as you feel like you are.
You must look nervous because he immediately assures you that Abbey’s in good hands this year. “We’re having an open house tonight, I hope to see you both there,”
You glance at your daughter, “What’d you think, Ab? That sound fun?”
“Yes!” She squeals and almost falls over from the weight of her backpack.
“Okay then,” With that, you crouch down to give Abbey one final hug. It’s clear that she’s itching to go socialize with the other kids, so you try not to delay her with your sappiness.
“Be good today, okay?” you give her a tight squeeze and a smacking kiss on her little cheek, “I’ll be back to get you at two-forty-five.”
“What will the clock say?” She asks inquisitively. Her favorite question.
“It’ll say ‘two-four-five’,” She nods in understanding, “But I bet you’ll be having so much fun that you won’t even remember to look.”
She’s already on her way to the door when she calls, “Love you, mommy!” and blows you a kiss with her lips puckered. You blow her one back and fight the tears threatening to surface. When did she get so big?
A pang of insecurity settles in your chest when you chance a look around and see all the children accompanied by two parents. You begin the walk back to your sedan before the thought has a chance to fester.
︵୨୧︵
Six hours goes by alarmingly fast when it’s spent running around your house in a frenzy, trying to catch up on all the cleaning you aren’t able to do when there’s a rampant five-year-old on the loose, making a brand new mess where you just cleaned an old one.
Before you can even register the time has passed, it's two o’clock and you need to pick Abbey up in a mere forty five minutes. Looking around your house, you feel satisfied with the progress you were able to make on tidying and call it a day.
This time, you decide to try and appear more presentable before visiting the school, and firmly remind yourself that it has nothing to do with how flustered your daughter’s kindergarten teacher makes you. By the time you’re dressed and have pulled your hair up into a halfway decent top knot; it’s time to go.
︵୨୧︵
The line for pickup wraps around the front of the building, aided by crossing guards and supervised by a few teachers. Twenty minutes into waiting, you regret not having gotten here a little sooner. ‘Tomorrow’ you think. Soon, you catch sight of two little pigtails bobbing up and down as your Abbey skips over to you, grinning ear to ear while Steve watches from the doors she just exited.
“Mommy!” she shouts as she bounds towards you. You place the car in park and run around to greet her.
“Hi, Bug!” you exclaim as you bend at the waist to pick her up. She gives you a tight squeeze around the neck, and you catch a split second of Steve’s gaze over her shoulder before he’s disappearing back inside the school
Plopping her as gently as possible into her carseat and fastening the straps over her chest, her mouth is already moving a mile a minute– absolutely ecstatic to tell you all about the activities she got up to while you were gone.
“What is ‘open house’ ?” she asks, kicking her feet like she can’t possibly contain all the excitement inside her little body.
“It’s just a chance for all the mommies and daddies to meet your teachers,” you explain, “And you get to show me around your new school, fun right?”
Her face lights up like a christmas tree at the prospect, “Are we gonna go?!”
“Yes, but first we have to eat dinner. What sounds good?”
Without missing a beat, she yells a little too loudly, “McDonalds!”
You want to say yes, of course you do, but your shifts at the ER barely cover the minimum of your living expenses. Your resolve begins to crumble, however, when she looks at you with those saucer-round eyes, and her bottom lip juts out in the most precious pout. Who knew she could be so harmlessly manipulative?
“I don’t know, Ab. I think we have some chicken nuggets in the freezer at home, though,” you say, with an air of hopefulness that she might accept the compromise.
“Not the same,” she whines, “Please, Mommy! I’ll be extra extra good please–”
And with that, it’s over.
“Okay! Okay, fine,” you feign annoyance through a smile, “We’ll stop on the way home,”
You can still hear her squeals of excitement when you close the door and walk around to the driver's seat.
︵୨୧︵
Abbey dresses a little more cohesively for the open house than she did this morning. This time she’s clad in a thrifted pair of overalls overtop a little purple blouse. She leads you, hand in hand, inside the school like she knows exactly where she’s going– despite only having spent six hours here.
Steve’s classroom looks exactly how you’d expect. The walls are a light, mint green and it’s as if a character from Sesame Street threw up all over it. Abbey leads you to a reading nook in the corner of the room, surrounded by books and complete with several bean bag chairs, and proclaims this is her favorite spot. She shows you where her desk is– right in the very front of the classroom– and on it, a laminated sticker with her first and last name sits neatly near the top. The walls are lined with colorful letters in alphabetical order, accompanied with numbers just underneath them.
“Abbey!” you hear a familiar voice call, “I’m glad you and your mom could make it!” turning to you then, “I’m actually not sure I ever caught your name,” he chuckles awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the fact that he doesn’t know it yet.
“Oh, it’s–” and before you get the chance to tell him, Abbey pipes up and tells him your first and last name with a confidence that she certainly didn’t have when it came to her own introduction this morning. You’re relieved that she feels so comfortable around him already.
He repeats your name back to you and holds out his hand for you to shake, “It’s nice to meet you,” You pay no mind to the way your heart beats a little faster in its cage at the sound of your name on his lips. His palm is surprisingly soft when you grasp it in your own.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” you grant him a polite smile, “Abbey could not stop talking about you on the way home,” you pinch her side, teasing, and she giggles in that contagious way that kids do.
“Is that so?” he feigns surprise when he looks at her.
“Nooo!” her giggles amplify as she becomes increasingly bashful.
He crouches down to meet her at eye-level, exactly like he did this morning, “Well, that’s a shame, because I think you might be one of my favorite students,”
Now, she’s a heap of laughter and has a blush spreading from the apple of her cheeks to the tips of her ears. You can’t help but feel enamored by how great he is with children, silently wondering if he comes from a big family, or if he has a child of his own.
“Did you introduce your mom to Nibbles?” he asks her when her laughing mostly subsides.
She gasps like she can’t believe she would’ve forgotten such a thing, then she hauls you by the arm over to a tiny cage on a table, presumably for an even tinier animal.
“Mommy, look! This is Nibbles,” She’s peering between the metal bars of the enclosure and encouraging you to do the same, when you lean in closer you see a small, tan gerbil sleeping in a little nest of bedding.
“He’s our friend and he helps us learn, so we have to be very careful with him,” she tells you with a sudden seriousness that's amusing to see displayed on such a young face. It’s obvious she’s parroting Steve.
You turn to see Steve observing from a few feet behind you, both hands shoved in his pockets, “I didn’t think teachers actually had class pets,” you breathe a huff of laughter.
“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles with you, “I brought him from home, actually. Figured he could use some socialization. With dozens of children.” he informs you sarcastically. God, he’s funny too.
“Wouldn’t have pegged you to be a hamster guy,” you tease.
“He’s a gerbil, first of all,”
“Right, sorry, my bad,” you smirk.
“No time for a dog, I guess,” he shrugs, “thought I could use the company,” he’s clearly still bantering, but there’s an underlying melancholy in his tone that you can’t quite place. Before you can think about it for longer than a second, an impatient five-year-old is tugging on your arm and begging to show you the library.
“Okay, alright,” you laugh, “better get to it, the library awaits,” you shoot him an apologetic look for having cut the conversation short. You feel less guilty, however, when you see more parents and children start to funnel into the classroom, busying him in yours and Abbey’s absence.
“See ya, “ he waves.
“Bye, Mr. Harrington!” Abbey yells, already halfway down the hall.
︵୨୧︵
In the library you have to shush Abbey several times, much to her dismay.
“We use our inside voices in the library, Ab,” you remind her for the fifth time. She frowns but it’s temporary when she spots her favorite section: the picture books. Abbey is ahead of a kindergarten reading level now, and it's one of her favorite hobbies, but you can still never go wrong with a good picture book.
You’re about to follow her when you hear someone call your name.
You turn, “Stephanie?” you ask, puzzled.
“Oh my gosh! It’s been forever!” an old friend from your shared high school, Stephanie, pulls you into an unreciprocated bear hug. Squeezing and swaying back and forth for an awkward amount of time.
“Hey,” you draw out the last syllable and try to paint your voice with a nostalgic excitement, “How have you been?” you ask, even though you’re sure you’d rather be shot than continue this conversation.
You don’t know if you could really call Stephanie a ‘friend’, or if you ever could. The only reason she even knew your name being the shared, piranha-esq social circle you both ran in years ago. She reminded you of your past– who you used to be– someone who you’re not particularly proud of.
“Oh, I've been just fine!” She gestures wildly with manicured nails. Her lips are overlined and her hair is still damaged from bleaching and too many perms. Evidently, not a lot has changed. You ponder if she’s still the mean girl she always was underneath all that makeup, or if at some point in your adolescence she decided to mature.
“Todd and I just bought a house over on Maplewood, are you familiar?”
“Oh, no, not really– my daughter and I live across town,” You don’t like how ashamed you feel, “I’ve heard it’s beautiful over there, though,” you attempt to smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes.
“That was your daughter?” She’s trying not to sound taken aback and failing, “With–?”
“Yes,” Your teeth grit ever so slightly. You hate that she won’t say his name, as if speaking it into existence would somehow break you. Like you’re fragile.
“I was terribly sorry to hear about what happened, Hon,” Her sudden sympathetic tone irritates you, whether it’s genuine or not. You don’t need pity, especially not from Stephanie Nettles.
“It’s okay, Steph, really,” losing patience by the second, nothing about it was okay. “It was a long time ago, Abbey and I are doing fine,” you assure her.
“Oh,” she fawns as she presses her bony hands against her chest above her heart, “Can I meet her? Would you mind?" Her tone is saccharine sweet. You figure it can’t hurt, but when you turn around to retrieve Abbey, she’s not where you left her. The spot on the rug that she was previously occupying is empty and her book is abandoned on the floor.
“Abbey?!” Calling a little too loudly for the setting you’re in but you can’t bring yourself to care. You search row after row, it’s not a big library, and after every shelf you’re expecting her to be there– browsing novels and you’ll feel silly for overreacting.
But that doesn’t happen, and you realize with mild panic that she definitely left the library; somehow without you noticing. You suppose this is the safest place for her to go missing, but the thought doesn’t soothe you for long as you still have no idea where your daughter could be.
Stephanie is staring at you with concern, but still making no effort to help you locate Abbey. You don’t speak and neither does she as you rush out of the room and begin to pace the halls, still calling out for her. You check the bathrooms by the gym, a couple of empty classrooms that aren’t locked– she’s not there either.
When you’ve checked every available room and potential hiding spot in the near vicinity and still see no trace of her, that’s when the real dread sets in. What if she’d wandered outside and been taken? Or worse, there had been an accident and she’s hurt? She could be miles from here by now, she could be–
“I think this might belong to you,” a mellow voice rings out.
Steve and Abbey walk leisurely towards you, hand in hand. A complete contrast to the frazzled mess of anxiety you are right now. You hurl yourself in their direction and wrap Abbey up in a hug, lifting her off her feet.
“Oh my God, Abbey,” normally you’d be fuming at her for wandering off like that when you know that she knows better, but you can’t feel anything other than relief in the moment.
“Found her on the swings,” Steve continues, “Isn’t that right?”
Your relief does eventually morph to frustration, “You know better, Abbey Jane. Don’t stray off like that again. Do you understand?”
She succumbs to her guilt and you can tell her short-lived freedom has lost its novelty. “I’m sorry, mommy,” her little eyes well with tears. “The other kids were going to the swings, I wanted to go,” she pouts.
“We could’ve gone, baby, but you have to ask first, okay?”
Her meek response is muffled in the crook of your neck, “Okay,”
She’s still sniffling into your shoulder when you remember Steve is there, and your surroundings come back into focus.
“Thank you for finding her, Steve–”
“--His name is Mr. Harrington, mom,” she corrects like she can’t believe you’d embarrass her like that by calling her teacher the wrong name.
“--Mr. Harrington,” you stifle a laugh for your daughter's sake, sending him a knowing look.
He returns the expression, “Anytime,” he smiles, sweet . “Think that's enough scaring your mom for today, huh?”
Instead of acknowledging with words, she simply nods her head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.
“I think someones getting sleepy, might be time to head home,” you drag a gentle hand down her back soothingly.
“Will you carry me?” she asks too adorably to say no, despite her being ever-so-slightly too big for it. Grunting as you pick her up, you say, “Thanks, again,”
“No need,” he ruffles Abbey’s head lightly as you pass, “See you tomorrow, right?”
“See you,” her eyelids are heavy already. You make your way back to the car slowly but surely, arms growing more numb with every step.
︵୨୧︵
Abbey manages to bargain a bath out of you and four books before bedtime instead of the usual two. How you ever say no to her, you’re not sure. By the time you finally tuck her in, it's well past nine o’clock.
“Did you have a good day today?” You ask as you bend down to kiss her forehead.
“Yes, Mr. Harrington is my favorite teacher,” she proclaims drowsily.
“He’s your only teacher, Ab,” You snicker.
“But he’s still my favorite,” she replies in the same cadence one would say ‘Duh’.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to go to sleep super fast tonight so you can see him sooner, right?”
You can practically see the lightbulb turn on above her head like she’s just had a groundbreaking revelation and nods fervently. You tuck her in tight on both sides, and give her a kiss on each of her cheeks and once more to her forehead for good measure.
“Love you, Abbey girl,” you tell her on your way out, “Goodnight,”
“Goodnight, mommy,” she says wearily from underneath her princess bedsheets.
The door closes with a soft click and you make your way to the living room. You never had the chance to ask Stephanie what she was doing at the school– from what you knew, she didn’t have any children. Perhaps she was a teacher. It didn’t matter as long as you didn’t have to interact with her again.
As you lounged on your old sectional, you couldn't help your mind wandering back to thoughts of Steve. You wanted to know more about him. Where he came from, what made him want to work with kids, why he needed a gerbil to keep him company. Distantly, you imagined what he was like outside of an elementary school setting. You hoped one day you’d find out.
He was Abbey’s teacher, sure, but what was the harm in a little crush?
taglist - @soulxiez
divider credit to @/strangergraphics
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fluff#steve x reader#stranger things series#stranger things#joe keery#steve harrington angst#series#steve harrington smut#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington bot#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things 3#stranger things fic#stranger things 5#stranger things fanart#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4#dustin henderson#robin buckley#the party#stranger things s5#stranger things season 5
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╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3
╰┈➤ a/n: 2022 me would skin me alive if she ever found out im being vocal abt liking eddie munson
ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list
@lokis-army-77
⭒ Cozy
Waking up the day after Eddie has fucked your brains out you have a little more fun.
⭒ Private Viewing
What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?
@eddiemunsons-missingnipple
⭒ Next Caller
Eddie hosts a late night radio show for his college campus, where he discusses various different topics. He's mostly known for his DnD and sex talk segments. You've been a long-time listener who works up the courage to finally call in for some help.
⭒ You Look Lonely
Eddie finally had it all, success, money, and fame. There was still one tiny problem he had.
@ceriseheaven
⭒ Cockwarming with older!Eddie (blurb)
@natti-ice
⭒ “Let me taste you” (blurb)
⭒ "B-baby please, I'm gonna-" (blurb)
@msgexymunson
⭒ Shotgun
You're on a camping trip with your two friends, and the scariest guy from school: Eddie Munson. A few beers and some weed change the way you look at him however. Maybe he's not so scary after all. Cocky, oh yes, but not scary. Especially the way your legs start to squeeze together at the sight of him. But, does he like you, or is this some cruel game to play on the innocent band geek?
⭒ Benefits
Your best friend Eddie starts to look very appealing to you, but if you suggest a dynamic change, will he go for it?
⭒ Soft Touches
you and your dealer Eddie get a little closer than anticipated.
⭒ The Ink Shop
Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.
@eddiethefreakkmunson
⭒ Not So Accidental Invitations
Tired of ignoring your ever growing attraction to your roommate Eddie you "accidentally" send him a partial nude, his reaction is everything you had hoped it would be and more...
@bimbobaggins69
⭒ Love in the Locker Room
you go into the boys locker room with a plan to steal the polaroids your now ex boyfriend took of you to show off to his friends, but the last thing you suspected was to be met with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and his very big friend.
@luveline
⭒ Topaz, Lime, Ruby Red
Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect.
⭒ Is It Getting Too Much?
you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can).
⭒ If It Barks
You don’t mean to make an enemy of Eddie Munson — he’s handsome and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. Eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating.
part one | part two | part three | part four |
⭒ Was That So Hard?
Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want?
⭒ Dark Matter
You ask your best friend Eddie to give you your first kiss. Eddie's not really in the habit of saying no to you.
⭒ Something Extra
You're having trouble sleeping and pot seems like the only solution. Good thing your dealer, Eddie Munson, knows of another method that he's willing to to teach you. You get more than you bargained for when he tells you what he gets off to every night - you.
@usedtobecooler
⭒ Desperate!Eddie (blurb)
⭒ eddie "monstercock" munson
eddie ‘monstercock’ munson, who is painfully unaware of the sheer size of his dick.
@munson-blurbs
⭒ Dark and Stormy
A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?
@eiightysixbaby
⭒ Take A Dip?
eddie wants to get you in the water with him while you're alone at the community pool. he ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.
@galaxy-siren
⭒ Biggest Fan
@lonelysatellites
⭒ Safe Hands
Sex has never been a pleasant experience for you. Selfish partners, anxiety, and pain have all ruined something that you should enjoy. You’re convinced there’s something wrong with you, but Eddie is determined to prove otherwise.
@eddiernunson
⭒ I Can Do It With A Broken Heart
You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.
⭒ The Splash of Rain on the Roof
you're best friends with Eddie Munson after moving to Hawkins, the new girl who ditches the cheerleaders for the Freaks. A year later, you've fallen head over heels for him, and you're convinced there's no way he has any interest in you. It finally seems confirmed when you find out (more or less) that he's into a fucking cheerleader. Your heart breaks.
@bbyhellfire
⭒ missionary with eddie (drabble)
eddie didn't care for missionary until he meets you
@oneforthemunny
⭒ Soft!Eddie (blurb)
@kiwi-bitchez
⭒ The Girlfriend Experience
Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around.
@/gaybybirth on ao3
⭒ Double Feature
When you're forced to go to a double feature showing of the Halloween movies with your brother and his friends, you find yourself, like usual, interacting with Eddie Munson. But it doesn't take long for the platonic line to be blurred and things to heat up.
⭒ Show Me
You ask Eddie to show you what you've been missing out on after he discovers your boyfriend never went down on you.
@eds6ngel
⭒ Romantic!Eddie blurb
@gxtitobxby
⭒ The Princess and the Freak | Part 2
“I can’t help but dream of his head between my thighs, how his hair would feel against my—”
@/mediocredreams on ao3
⭒ Extra Credit
Your professor offers you a very personal in-home tutoring session.
@/ghostproofbaby on ao3
⭒ Twenty Four Hours
in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?
(Y'ALL MUST READ IT ISTG ITS SO GOOD)
@/decembersfinest on ao3
⭒ Living After Midnight
Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head.
@littlexdeaths
⭒ Band Practice
when band practice doesn’t go as planned…
@eddiexmunsonlover
⭒ One Step Away From You
You move back to Hawkins after 3 years away to finish out your senior year. Can you salvage the friendship you once had with your ex best friend, Eddie? Will you be able to push down your deeper feelings for him, or will it all come bubbling out in disaster?
@/nerdsarehot on ao3
⭒ A Kiss to Remember
⭒ Flustered
@/GreyPetticoats on ao3
⭒ Wing Man
Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wingman for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.
@eddiesghxst
⭒ Riding Eddie drabble
@eddiemunchem
⭒ that puppy dog typa love
eddie is fiercely loyal, doting, and affectionate — when he’s enamored, you’re everything; his whole world. so just don’t mind the fact that he clings to you like a sloth to a tree, yeah?
#eddie munson#so what if im in love with eddie munson#mind your own business#I CANT KEEP ACTING LIKE HE ISNT A TOTAL BABE#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson angst#fic reccomendations#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson st4#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson series
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Wildflower Masterlist
Masterlist
Eddie Munson Masterlist
Steve Harrington Masterlist
Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader
Summary
Eddie left Hawkins, Indiana behind to chase after his dreams - forcing him to say goodbye to his first love and all their friends. But unbeknownst to Eddie, she kept a huge secret from him.
Now, 2 years later, Corroded Coffin is coming back to Hawkins for the first time.
Warnings
Rockstar!Eddie, dad!Eddie, ex!reader, mom!reader, best friend!Steve. Language, smut, pregnancy, secret baby, love triangle, alcohol use, drug use, angst, check chapter warnings for specifics!
A/N
Reader is Dustin’s sister, so I imagine her with brown curly hair. I’ve left most things to your imagination :)
Current total word count - 22.4k
❤️🔥 - Smut
Chapter One
Chapter Two ❤️🔥
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six ❤️🔥
Chapter Seven
#eddie munson#eddie#stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson series#joseph quinn#keeryhours writes#wildflower#eddie munson x you#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie stranger things#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things imagine
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Different standards
#didnt mean to do this one in quote unquote colour but it wasnt legible without it so. heres a treat i suppose#isat#isat spoilers#in stars and time#in stars and time fanart#isat fanart#isat loop#isat bonnie#lucabyteart#coughs up a lung. anyway. ramble time as per usual. this is what i was warming up for btw in case it wasnt obvious#besides being another entry in the 'letting bonnie read loop for filth on accident' series. this is mostly self indulgent musings on#headcanons (and i will just use that word here.) ive previously rambled about in other tags and posts#namely: in the scenario that loop integrates into the party as a New Person for quite a while before The Truth Come Out. i feel they have#a decent chance at really scoring a slam dunk in becoming a guardian figure for bonnie? loop's demeanor is already colder and a tiny#bit more level-headed than siffrin's in the way they seem to discuss bonnie with them. namely pointing out that bonnie#never really hated them. it seems to be one thing they're genuinely at peace with? they've seen by now the truth that bonnie#was just scared and upset. and likely now knows that what bonnie wants is to be treated with grown-up respect within reason. plus loop#already scores bonus points with bonnie since they didnt 1. fuck up bad like sif did in act 5 and 2. saved sif in the party's eyes#... but then when it turns out that this clean-slate relationship with a stranger was siffrin being deceitful? must have been odd.#bonnie seems to really dislike being lied to. the question is whether they'd see it that way? would they feel betrayed there?#anyway. this is set after all those emotions are at least settled some. loop able to be more physically affectionate... and yet#still not letting themselves be quite as close as they'd like perhaps. perhaps...#anyway translucent pyjamas because i dont care if you're comforting a crying child you've GOT to SERVE!!!#and also i feel like the party probably wouldn't let loop stay completely naked for that long. especially not post-reveal anyway
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Incorrect Steddie that’s actually correct
Insp
#spoiler alert they don’t#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#incorrect steddie series#henderdads#dustin henderson#mp#ph#stranger things#stranger things meme#eddie x steve#joseph quinn#joe keery#steddie headcanon
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𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓
"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist
pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 2.7k words
warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, jealous!reader, a bit of angst, fluff
summary: in which you don’t expect to feel so bothered seeing steve talk to another girl, but you do
author's note: this was unfinished for months and i finally felt inspired to actually finish it thank god. i'm trying to slowly get back into writing stuff for this series so enjoy this for now<333
general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Summer 1986
When you first heard about the party, you didn’t think too much about it because your Friday night plans were already settled. A simple movie night in your living room with Steve featuring some of the new arrivals that had just gotten to Family Video. However, you still nodded and said a quick, “Maybe I’ll check it out” to your college friend when she told you about her party and you got the address from her too out of niceness.
It wasn’t until you half-mentioned the party to Robin as you picked through the new arrivals cart during the final hour of her and Steve’s shift that going actually became a possibility.
“Wait, what? A party at a lake house sounds perfect. We have to go.”
Steve was quick to look up from the computer and shake his head at her words. “No way. We already have plans for the night, Robs.”
The eye roll he received in response was immediate. “You two can waste away on the couch any night you want. Tonight we should go to a party.”
You considered her words and nodded after a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Thank you,” She smiled at you before looking back at Steve. “And you need to remember that I’m only gonna be here for a few more weeks, so we need to do as much stupid shit as we can while I am still here.”
You playfully rolled your eyes at her words. “Okay, you can’t keep using the college card like it’s an ‘I only have two weeks left to live’ card.”
“I second that,” Steve agreed. “Also, you keep making it seem like you’re going thousands of miles away. You’re only gonna be an hour away from here.”
“Yeah, well, still, things are changing,” She told you both. “And I wanna have fun before I leave.”
Fun ended up being an understatement.
Barely an hour into the party she was drunk due to one too many cupfuls of whatever punch concoction had been thrown together and put in a big bowl in the kitchen. You and Steve shared one cup of the weirdly sweet drink and then decided to simply settle into the role of babysitting Robin.
You both were currently lingering by a wall and watching as Robin danced with all of the other people crowded in the living room; you vaguely recognized the ABBA song playing. You made a mental note to tell her no if she came running over to you and Steve and proposed the idea of getting another drink.
“This is your fault, you know,” Steve told you, leaning into your ear to be heard over the music. “If you didn’t mention the party to her earlier, you and I would be on the couch watching a movie and eating takeout from Third Street.”
You gave him a sad look coupled with a pouty lip and he immediately felt bad, taking your look to heart. He quickly leaned in to apologetically kiss you.
“Sorry,” He mumbled against your lips.
You were smiling as he pulled away. “You’re too easy.”
He immediately rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side, which made you laugh. “And you’re very evil.”
“Sorry, I had to,” You said and initiated the quick kiss that time around. “Anyway, yes, I know this is my fault and I’d kill to have Third Street right now, but look how happy she is.” You gestured in the direction of where Robin was in the packed living room, dancing with all of the other people who you were convinced were at least half-drunk, but you now couldn’t see her. “Wait, shit, where did she go?”
Steve looked around for a second too and then let out a sigh when he also couldn’t spot her. Maybe you two weren’t the best babysitters after all.
“Okay, I’ll check upstairs and you look around down here,” You said to him. “Oh, and maybe grab some water too. She’ll probably need it sooner rather than later.”
Steve gave you a quick nod. “Okay.”
You checked every room upstairs and instead of finding Robin you accidentally interrupted one too many couples making out. After quickly peeking into the last room and mumbling out another “Oops, sorry,” you headed back down the stairs, hoping Steve had better luck than you. You noticed him in the kitchen, two water bottles in hand, and talking to someone who wasn’t Robin but you immediately recognized.
Vanessa. A girl who was in one of your classes last semester and had gone on a handful of dates with Steve at the end of last year.
It was hard to decipher what they were talking about right then, but Steve had a small smile on his face and so did she.
You couldn’t recognize why— or maybe you just refused to admit it right then— but you felt the sudden urge to insert yourself into the conversation; sidle up next to Steve, grab his hand and wrap his arm around you, kiss his cheek or simply plant one on his mouth. Essentially mark your territory for everyone, especially Vanessa, to see. But, you were way too sober to actually consider doing any of that, so you instead looked away from him and went back to searching for Robin.
You found her moments later, sitting on the chair swing on the front porch of the house.
“Hey, Robs, what are you doing out here?” You asked softly as you sat down next to her, trying not to move the swing too much but that proved to be a lot harder than you thought.
Robin didn’t seem to mind, though. Her eyes were closed as she shrugged at your question. “Just wanted some fresh air.”
“Makes sense,” You nodded. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” Her eyes stayed shut as she answered you. “Sleepy, but at the same time I kinda wanna get another drink and dance some more.”
“I’ll allow the dancing, but I need to be a good babysitter right now and say no more drinking.”
She gave you a quick nod. “The logical side of me knows you’re right.”
Things got quiet for a second and in that moment of quiet you thought about Steve and Vanessa in the kitchen. It seemed as if all your brain wanted to do right then was play that moment on repeat. You could inwardly admit that the conversation had looked completely innocent and probably quite literally meant nothing, but for some reason, it still bothered you.
“A part of me wishes I got drunk with you,” You said to Robin with a sigh and leaned back into the chair.
She smiled at that and looked at you. “You definitely still can.”
Before you could answer, you heard the front door open and subsequently close, and then Steve’s voice filled the brief quiet. “Good. You found her.”
He handed one of the water bottles he was holding over to you. “I grabbed one for you too.”
He the. placed the other bottle in Robin’s lap and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, dingus.”
If the circumstances were different and your thoughts weren’t confused and scattered, you would’ve shifted over a bit and made room for Steve on the small chair swing, and a random conversation would’ve played out for the next few minutes before you or he suggested leaving. But things weren’t different, so you didn’t.
Steve didn’t think too much of it, though. Instead, he simply asked, “Should we head out?”
You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah.”
He looked at Robin. “We’re taking you to our place, right?”
“Yes, please,” She answered, smiling. “You guys are great babysitters.”
She shut her eyes again and Steve looked at you, giving you a smile and you were quick to force one back. It was then that you could tell that he knew something was up with you because of the look he gave you in response to your forced smile, but he didn’t get to ask you what was going on because Robin was abruptly standing up and asking which way the car was.
It wasn’t until you all were finally in Steve’s car and driving away from the party— Robin fell asleep in the backseat almost immediately— that he finally asked.
“What’s wrong?”
You let the question linger in the air for a bit— keeping your eyes focused out the window and letting your fingers mindlessly fiddle with the zipper of your jacket— before you answered him.
“I don’t know…” You mumbled with a shrug and then you sighed and shook your head. “Actually, I do know, but it’s dumb. It’s stupid.”
His right hand moved off of the steering wheel and found one of yours. “You can tell me.”
You knew he was right, but that didn’t make being a thousand percent honest feel any easier in this moment.
“Vanessa was at the party,” You ultimately said, figuring that would be the easiest way to start the conversation.
Steve nodded. “Yeah, we talked for a second.”
“Yeah, I saw,” You said and wanted to end the conversation there, but you knew that you couldn’t. “It kinda annoyed me a bit.”
“What do you mean?” Steve asked, taking a quick look at you.
“I don’t know…” You sighed again. “Just seeing you guys talking was a little annoying, I guess.”
Things got quiet for a second, and that managed to make you get even more inside your head. Maybe Steve thought you were insane or he was even mad at you for feeling this way. This was entirely unchartered territory between you two, so you weren’t entirely sure what his reaction would be.
“Oh,” Steve said as if he was realizing something and then smiled a bit. “You were jealous.”
You immediately rolled your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
You used your free hand to gesture to his face. “With that smile on your face.”
“I think it’s cute that you were jealous,” He told you, pulling your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could kiss the back of yours.
You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”
“It really is,” Steve said and you decided not to protest him that time around, looking out the window again.
“I love you, by the way,” He continued. “Just in case you forgot.”
That managed to finally get a smile out of you.
“I did forget, actually. Thank you for the reminder,” You joked and then turned to look at him. “I love you too.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Guiding a half-awake Robin from the car to your and Steve’s apartment was a feat in itself, but it somehow worked out. You two helped Robin into your bed instead of letting her take the couch and then you set a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand because you had a feeling she’d need it in the morning.
You changed into your pajamas in Steve’s room, which simply consisted of a t-shirt that you had long ago stolen from Steve and a pair of shorts, and then both you and him settled into his bed.
He had fallen asleep pretty quickly and you thought, or more so hoped, that you would find sleep easily too, but instead, you tossed and turned in bed because you couldn’t seem to shut off your mind. You weren’t entirely sure why you were still feeling a little sulky and weird about everything— Steve didn’t care and he wasn’t upset with you for feeling jealous— but there was something still nagging at the back of your head about the whole thing.
“I know what you’re thinking right now,” You heard Steve sleepily mumble after what felt like an hour of you trying but failing to force yourself to sleep but it was probably only twenty minutes. His arm circled around your waist and he pulled you back against him. “And you should stop it.”
The fact that he could easily read your mind wasn’t surprising and it was probably the only thing that made you feel a little bit okay and made you want to at least attempt to verbalize the thoughts that had been running through your head.
“I just hate being like this. It feels so— I don’t know…” You were then squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your face into the pillow as you admitted, “When I saw you and her talking I really wanted to just go up and kiss you in front of her, so that she knew that we’re together and you’re mine.”
“Mm, you should’ve done that,” He mumbled into your neck. “That would’ve been really hot.”
You finally turned on your side to face him. “Shut up. I don’t know why I just admitted that, honestly. I told you this was stupid.”
“Don't feel embarrassed about it,” He said, somehow managing to sum it all up perfectly; you were feeling embarrassed. “This happens to me all the time.”
You laughed a little. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better about how dumb I'm being.”
“I’m serious,” He told you. “Remember last Thursday when you came to Family Video during the last hour of mine and Robin’s shift?”
When you gave him a quick nod in response, he continued. “I was so annoyed watching you talk to that one guy.”
At first, you weren’t sure what guy he was talking about, but then it hit you. It had been the all too familiar situation where someone thought that you also worked at the store because you were the only one standing behind the counter since both Robin and Steve were stocking shelves. But even after you told this guy that you actually didn’t work there, he kept the conversation going and you laughed and smiled along for a bit to be nice before making up some excuse and retreating to the break room for the rest of Steve and Robin’s shift.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t seem annoyed at all, and we didn’t even talk about it.”
“Yeah, because for like two minutes I felt jealous, but then I remembered that I’m the one you’re with and nothing could change that— especially not some random blonde guy— so…” Steve trailed off with a shrug and smile.
As if flicking a light switch, his words changed everything for you. Once again, he was right; there was nothing that could change what you two had.
“And just so you know,” He continued, voice soft and quiet. “I always feel embarrassed and stupid about it after it happens too.”
You were smiling as you kissed him then, closing the small bit of distance between you two and finding his lips in the darkness that consumed his room.
“I can’t believe you’re turning out to be the rational one out of the two of us,” You joked when you pulled back from the kiss and proceeded to bury your face into his neck and completely entangle your body with his. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” He whispered back and pressed the softest kiss to your shoulder before he started to pull away from you. You immediately pouted at him in protest but he continued, pulling the blanket off of both of you and getting out of bed. “It’s only midnight. Let’s do what we were actually supposed to do tonight.”
Hearing him say that made you follow suit and get out of bed too, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Movies and Third Street?”
Steve was nodding as he walked over to you, arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Yup.”
“That’s a great idea,” You whispered, looking up at him. “But, no funny business on the couch, though. The walls are way too thin and we’ll never hear the end of it from Robin if she hears anything.”
“Okay,” Steve said, and then proceeded to kiss your forehead and then both of your cheeks and then your neck; all of which made you softly laugh. “Sorry, just needed to get those out of the way first.”
You gave him an understanding nod that you hoped looked as serious as you wanted it to be, but there was a wide smile on your face as you spoke. “Okay, yeah, makes sense.”
He gave you one final kiss, that time against your lips, and then he was pulling away from you and heading toward his shut door. Your arms circled around him from behind as you followed him out into the living room.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington angst#steve harrington series#stranger things imagine#stranger things fluff
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El Hopper Stranger Things 3.02 — The Mall Rats
#stedit#strangerthingsedit#el hopper#elevenedit#elhopperedit#jane hopper#stranger things#millie bobby brown#tvstrangerthings#dailystrangerthings#strangersource#stladies#tvfilmsource#strangerthingsedits#*#series: stranger things#ch: eleven#janehopperedit#my sugar pie honey bunch
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Baby, I Can't Fight This Feeling
co-worker steve harrington x fem reader | enemies to lovers
A childhood (or maybe just downright childish) rivalry that began for reasons neither of you knew still rages between your co-worker, Steve Harrington, and yourself as adults.
You’ve watched the rise and fall and weird somewhat rise again of King Steve, and now, you find yourselves having to share friends, work space, and god dammit if he touches your red vines one more fucking time –
A cocky attitude leads to an immature bet between your best friend, Eddie Munson, and Steve.
One week to woo, to get her to swoon. One week to prove that Steve Harrington is back, and that his charm could work on anyone.
Even you.
key things to note - the warnings
Come Crashing Through Your Door
Can't Hold Out Forever
Getting Closer Than I Ever Thought
Cold, Dark Winter's Night
Forgotten What I Started Fighting For
I'm Following You, Girl
Afraid To Let It Show
Crawl Upon The Floor
Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore
Epilogue: You Take Me To The Places, That Alone I'd Never Find
📼 Return To Main Menu
#steve harrington#steve harrington series#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#enemies to lovers#stranger things fanfiction#BICFTF#superbly subpar's writing#Spotify
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Dancing with our hands tied | Prologue
I knew there was no one in the world who could take it I had a bad feeling
Warnings: mentions of injuries, bruises and scars, mention of the upside down, this is post s4, enemies to lovers. mentions of death and the upside down. readers features are not mentioned, besides the accident with the hair dye in the past
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?
Word count: 3.6k+
Author's note: A new fic and another shoutout to my queen @hellfire--cult 🤍 thank you for working on the ideas for this story with me, I'm so excited for this one!
-
You’re running through the darkness, barefoot, the soil feels wet and slippery beneath your feet, twigs and branches scratch your skin open, the air feels icy cold, the wind blows through your hair and goosebumps arise on your skin, though not because of the cold but because of the growling behind you, the creatures that reach for you, that scream for you, that want your blood and your flesh.
Your lungs feel on fire and so do your legs, but you don’t stop running.
You run faster and faster, hoping to find shelter though this forest seems so big and never ending, there is no way out of this, no way out of here.
There is no shelter and there is nowhere to run – and yet, you don’t stop, you don’t let them get to you, you don’t let them touch you.
Rain starts falling, thunder rumbles through the woods and the ground beneath you suddenly starts shaking, making your knees buckle.
Desperation clings onto you, you can’t fall, if you do then you lose.
The sky becomes redder, shining angrily, the lightning now comes for you, crashing down on the ground right before you, causing you to yelp in surprise.
And that is all that it took, an obstacle thrown into the path that was destined for you to stay on. It caught you off guard, you no longer looked at the way before you, you slowed down and you slipped on the muddy ground.
You can feel yourself falling and it feels as though it takes forever for you to crash, you can feel the breath getting knocked out of you, you can feel the tear running down your cheek, you can feel the darkness taking ahold of you and despite knowing that you are going down, the fall still startles you, making you whimper in pain when you hit your head on something, your vision blurs and your skin aches and despite it, you push yourself up but it’s too late.
The vines are wrapping itself around your body, like snakes that are about to poison you. Panic rises in your chest and your eyes widen when you lift your head to see the creatures running towards you, getting closer and closer.
“No!” Your own voice sounds so unfamiliar to you, so filled with fear and desperation.
You struggle against the vines, though they hold you down so strongly. You try kicking against it, you try fighting against it but nothing helps, nothing will help you, nothing will save you.
Suddenly, you feel something sharp in your skin, in your legs, in your calves, in your arms, everywhere. You scream in pain – in pain and in anger. Tears stream down your face, blood seeps from the ripped open skin, the metallic taste now lingering on your tongue and that will be the last thing you will taste, the last thing you will see is the blood red sky, the last thing you will feel is how you’re being ripped apart.
But even now, as you’re slipping into a cruel death, all you think about is him.
You’re awaiting the darkness, the void – though it’s not what greets you when your eyes close. Light greets you. Bright, disgusting light that makes you want to close your eyes again. Fuck. You forgot to close the curtains last night.
A groan falls from your lips and you pull the blanket up higher, hiding your face from the sun that shines directly into your room. You pay no mind to your racing heart or the fear that still lingers from the dream you just woke from – you ignore it, as you always do.
This one was unlike all the others that have been haunting you for weeks now. Instead of hands around your neck, and the cruel blue eyes staring into your soul as he tried to kill you, it’s been the creatures that wanted you dead this time – and somehow they caused you less fear than he did.
You sink deeper into your mattress, enjoying the comfort and warmth of your bed.
Nothing awaits you today, absolutely nothing.
With a sigh, you lift your blanket and sit up, rubbing your eyes before you squint them open. You pull your legs up to your chest and prop your chin up on your knees, looking out your window as you get lost in your thoughts.
You are taken back to your dreams when the sun gets brighter, reminding you of the lights that surged through the red sky when the creatures – the monsters ripped you open. Not shying away from digging their teeth and claws into your delicate skin. – And to think that you once thought that Tommy and Carol were monsters.. Now you know what real monsters look like, feel like..
They never got under your skin like the monsters in your dreams did, not even when they thought they did. They threw cruel words at you, made up rumors about you that circled around school but as entertaining as it was to some of the students of Hawkins High, you just didn’t care what they thought of you, what they whispered about you whenever you passed by the gossiping girls or the boys who would smirk whenever you would walk through the hallways.
Just like all the other new freshman girls, you were fresh meat, a little lamb in the midst of a lion's den, ready to be ripped apart – or at least, that’s what you were meant to be. The first time Kelli Robertson approached you in order to intimidate you and to make it known who she was, she walked away with a split open lip after she tugged at your pigtails and made fun of the way you dressed. She never approached you again after this and neither did her friends.
You were no violent person but it had always been easy for you to lose your temper around girls and boys who loved to think that they were better than anyone else, that their status in school was something deemed special and meaningful outside of it, that they could push around the ones weaker than them.
Maybe you weren’t better than them, you gave them back what they gave to others, but at least they deserved it. And with them, you had the power to fight back whenever they came at you.
But when it came to him, you didn’t have much power to fight back – only luck was on your side, that night. A battered house you were supposed to die in, saved you. It’s ironic, really.
It’s been a few weeks since the evil had been defeated and you had won – since your friends had won, but not without scars and bruises.
Eddie almost died.
Max almost died.
And you, you almost died too.
Maybe you should have.
You drag yourself out of bed, like every morning, ignoring the sharp pain in your side, the ache that still lingers in your neck – you wonder if it will stay there forever now.
You hate to look at yourself in the mirror, but you still do.
You wash your face and brush your teeth and you stare at your reflection, hating what you see. The bruises that have not healed yet, the ones on your face and on your neck, the scar that he left for you to always look at.
With a sigh, you turn away and leave the bathroom. You make yourself a cup of coffee and sit on your windowsill. You pull your knees up to your chest, closing your eyes for a moment, you enjoy the way the sun feels on your skin. You missed it, the warmth, the smell of spring in the air and giving yourself this moment of peace every morning.
You feel the beating of your heart, the kind that fills your body with fear – the fear that will always linger now.
You can’t stand it.
And you can’t stand that the only way to get rid of it is to be around the person who hates you the most.
The one that ripped your heart out more than once, with nothing but cruel words.
You should stay away, but you can’t.
And besides, your words are just as cruel.
-
Walking into Family Video, a small smile tugs at your lips when Steve’s frown greets you. He is leaning against the counter, a pencil in his hand as he works on the crossword in the newspaper. He instantly straightens up when he locks eyes with you, a sigh already falling from his lips.
He has been seeing you more often than usual in the past few weeks – every time you walk in here, he ignores the relief in his chest and the pain when he sees those fading bruises on your skin.
By the look on your face, he can tell that you are up to no good.
You’re wearing a sweet smile on your face – one that could never be directed at him. An iced coffee in your hand that you got from the shop across the street, he sees you walk in there, every afternoon.
“Hey Steve,” you smile as you walk up to the counter, placing the cup in front of him. “I got you a coffee.”
Steve raises his eyebrows at you, glancing down at the coffee, not quite believing you or the sickly sweet tone in your voice, you even called him by his name, something that never happens.
“What’d you put in there?”
You chuckle, shrugging at him. “Nothing, I figured you could use some coffee and some company, you look bored.”
The store is empty and he already stacked up all the new tapes. Yes, he is bored but he doesn’t believe you for a second. You’re here because you are bored.
You tap your manicured nails against the counter, tilting your head and looking at him oh so sweetly – your lashes flutter, your lips are curled into a soft smile, you’re wearing a pretty blouse underneath your denim jacket and heart shaped glasses on your head, you smell like cherries. If you weren’t you, he would be flirting away already but unfortunately you are you.
The girl he cannot stand, even now, after you risked your life for a person that means so much to him, after you almost bled out and died fighting someone who was ready to kill you.
He ignores the pang in his chest when he looks at the faint bruises around your neck, you almost got matching wounds now – only his were caused by bats, yours were caused by someone else’s hands. He redirects his eyes to your face instead, not bearing to look at the marks any longer.
He looks into your eyes for a moment, trying to figure you out the way he always does – though you will always remain a mystery to him.
Tempting, he thinks – the coffee, not you, definitely not you.
With a sigh, he reaches for the cup and just as he goes to wrap his hand around it, you beat him to it, snatching it back.
“Oops, I changed my mind.”
You wrap your lips around the straw, keeping your eyes on him as you drink the coffee that you definitely did not order for Steve.
He clenches his jaw, eyes flashing with annoyance as they lock with yours again.
Satisfaction fills your chest, you love teasing him.
“Robin isn’t here, so what the hell do you want, Blondie?”
At that, you clench your jaw.
You can’t stand the stupid nickname that he hasn’t stopped using since Sophomore year.
You wanted that blonde you saw on Dolly Parton in the magazines, only for a bright yellow to end up on your head. You begged your sister to let you stay at home, but she pointed to the door for you to face the consequences of getting hair dye without her permission.
And since then, you went back to your natural hair color, not touching a dye in your life again.
Steve won’t let you live it down, always bringing up the nickname he knows you hate so much.
Though you don’t know whether he gave you the name because of the yellow hair you once sported or because you love the band so much.
“Well, I wanna rent a movie,” you shrug as you play with the straw. “I figured you could recommend one to me. You know, since you work here and everything.”
He rolls his eyes, “just get The Breakfast Club and leave.”
You put your hand over your heart, feigning pain. “Are you trying to get rid of me, Lego head?”
He clenches his jaw harder than before, you can tell that he is trying his hardest not to roll his eyes.
“I watched that movie last week. I wanna watch something else now. Give me a few recommendations or I’ll speak to your manager,” you tease him.
He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he walks around the counter, nodding his head at you to follow him.
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
You follow him, sipping on your coffee as you look down at the way his jeans are hugging his ass.
“How about Teen Wolf?” He asks as he walks into the horror movie section, he reaches for the movie and turns back to you, gripping the shelf as he gives you a fake smile.
“Hmm,” you scrunch your nose up as you pretend to think. “No thanks, I got enough Teen Wolf in front of me.” You gesture to his hair and the chest hair that peeks from his unbuttoned shirt.
You try to not look at the scar around his neck, the vision of him being held down against the ground while the bats tried to bite chunks of flesh out of him still pains you and makes shivers run down your spine.
With a snort, he rolls his eyes and puts the tape back on the shelf.
“What do you want, horror, action, rom-com–”
“Do I look like I’d enjoy a shitty rom-com?”
“Right,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he looks you up and down. You actually do look like you’d enjoy a shitty rom-com. Besides the constant glare or the frown on your face, you actually look like a sweet and approachable girl – that’s where he was wrong. You are unapproachable, you always have been. You’re rough and you’re mean, you never bite your tongue and you don’t shy away from fights or arguments, that is something that caught him off guard the first time he talked to you. The pink skirt, the bow in your hair and the innocent look on your face was a disguise for the little devil that was hiding behind those pretty eyes.
Your looks still don’t match your personality. – Even now, after the horrifying things that you have been through only weeks back, you are still you. Still the same mean girl he always knew you to be.
There was a shift in your behavior after last summer, something had changed in your eyes, a sadness lingered in them, one that hasn’t been there before, he doesn’t know what happened, if you had gotten hurt or if you had lost something or someone, but even if, that clearly wasn’t enough for you to change either.
Nothing seems to change you.
You are just cold and unreachable in your emotions – for the most part.
“Alright then no rom-com,” he sighs.
He continues to offer you movies, ones that you keep saying no to. He can feel himself growing frustrated the longer you do this, knowing damn well that you aren’t here for a movie, especially not for tonight, you’re hanging out with Robin tonight.
Once you make it to the last aisle, Steve is officially fed up with you. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest while you innocently look at the movies in the thriller section. You are sipping on your drink, eyeing some tape that you just reached for. You put it back and sigh, pretending to be bored.
While Steve had been trying to be less harsh with you than he was weeks before, he can’t help but roll his eyes at you.
“Why are you here?” He grumbles. “We both know you don’t want to rent a movie.”
You turn your head, eying him up and down before you start making your way over to him.
“How would you know?”
“Because I know you,” he mumbles as he takes a step closer to you. “I know you’re here because you’re fucking bored.”
You smirk, tilting your head up as you look into his hazel eyes.
“Get a job and let me do mine,” he rolls his eyes and finally brushes past you, making his way back to the counter.
“I don’t need a job, I have enough money to do… uh.. well nothing for the rest of my life. Just like you, Harrington. Why don’t you take that hush money we were gifted with and get the hell out of here?” You ask, curiously as you follow him. “You could be relaxing, traveling through the country, staying in fancy hotels, taking out hot chicks.”
“How fun,” he snorts as he stops by the register. “You go do that, if that’s what a dream life looks to you. Or get a freaking boyfriend or something and stop getting on my goddamn nerves, Blondie.”
“Who would keep your life so entertaining if I got too busy with a boyfriend?” You ask. “You’d die of boredom.”
Steve picks up the pencil he dropped earlier, trying to ignore you as he continues working on his crossword but you don’t let him obviously. You place the drink you teased him with, in front of him and lift yourself up on the counter, making yourself comfortable next to him.
He rolls his eyes, looking up at you through his bangs to find you looking at him already, a smirk lingering on your lips. You’re close enough for him to smell the perfume on your skin, sweet and flowery, another misleading thing, you’re not sweet, not in any way.
“You really think you have that much of an impact in my life?” He asks. Like the bruises on your body don’t anger him, because he couldn’t help you when you were fighting for your own and someone else’s life. Like he didn’t hold your hand when your cold body was laying in the hospital bed. Like he didn’t pray for you to make it out alive.
You bite the insides of your cheeks, blinking as you continue to look into his eyes.
You nod. “I think you would miss me so much if I was gone.”
He glares into your eyes, taking deep breaths as he moves his tongue along his bottom lip.
How can you speak of such things when you almost lost your life? He wonders.
“Yeah, you would definitely miss me,” you smirk and reach for your drink, only to be stopped by him when he reaches for it first, smirking back at you as he brings it up to his lips, wrapping his lips around the straw – not caring that your lips have touched it first.
Your jaw drops a little, only a little, though enough for him to be amused by the shocked look on your face – that is rare.
He takes a sip of your coffee, humming. “Mhmm, Vanilla? How’d you know it was my favorite?”
You purse your lips, squinting your eyes at him.
“Don’t look at me like that. You’ll give me the wrong idea and make me think that you have a crush on me or something.”
What an idiot.
“You wish, Lego head.” You snort and jump off the counter, letting your face drop into your regular expression.
He chuckles, tilting his head at you. “Right, I forgot, you don’t have such a thing as feelings.”
You blink, cracking your knuckles as you meet his eyes again.
Yeah, you heard that before and it stung, really badly.
“Not when it comes to you.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, looking at you with a bored expression.
“I’m so wounded.”
Nothing you would say or do could ever hurt Steve Harrington.
Not even the cruelest words from you would hurt him.
Because you don’t have the power to hurt him.
You don’t have an impact in his life.
You wouldn’t leave a void in his life if you just disappeared – not like he would in yours if he were to disappear.. But he doesn’t need to know that.
He couldn’t care less about you, he surely wouldn’t care if you left this town like you should have a long time ago, he surely wouldn’t care if you had died that night. You would have been long forgotten by now, a faceless someone in his memories.
“Heidi or Summer or Kayla will surely patch those wounds,” you smirk as you walk towards the door. “Or are you still getting over Nancy… you know after she rejected you… again?”
He nods at you with a glare, clenching his jaw at the reminder.
You chuckle and turn around, you open the door and step out.
“Look both ways when you cross the street, Blondie!” He calls out to you. “You don’t wanna end up in the hospital again!”
You flip him off, rolling your eyes at his chuckle that you hear before the door closes behind you.
The afternoon sun is shining down on you, leaving a warm feeling on your skin, a smile pulls at your lips as you glance at the growing flowers next to trees.
The sky is blue, no cloud in sight to hide the sun, it’s quiet, peaceful – almost too peaceful.
This is how it should be, right?
The war that was fought in secret is over.
But, there is still one upon you.
You and the man you just walked away from.
Will you make it out alive this time?
Or will you be left more broken than before?
-
I'm only doing taglists for friends & mutuals so please don't ask to be tagged! It's too stressful for me to keep track of that.
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#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington angst#steve harrington series#steve harrington enemies to lovers#stranger things angst
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Dustin with a… hammer? | an Eddie Munson Series
pairing : henderson!reader x eddie munson. summary : eddie is your longtime crush. so what happens when you get him all alone, one wednesday afternoon? warnings : eventual smut, friends to lovers, dustin freaking out, kissing, pet names. a/n : this will be a series. please lmk if you like it!
You heard a loud bang, and seconds later your door was slammed open, revealing an unkempt Dustin with a… hammer? in his hands.
“Y/n/n! You have to help me!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, yet you remained unimpressed and it was driving him nuts. “Get up!”
You squinted at him, eyeing the hammer in his hand. And then his face again. “What are you doing with that, you wombat? Put that down” you rolled your eyes and looked back down at your book.
Yet you could hear his breathing, well, it wasn’t something unusual. But he was getting agitated and you could feel it in the air. “It’s Eddie” spluttered Dustin, and your ears immediately perked up. “W-Well, actually it’s Vecna. But I am way more concerned about Eddie.”
“What’s up with Eddie?” You asked, looking back at him as you walked down the stairs, your brother following right behind. Your book was already long forgotten, and any plans you had had before Dustin mentioned Eddie.
You liked the boy. He was sweet, pretty, and he always gave you free weed, blushing like crazy when you kissed his cheek as a thank you.
“I am supposed to meet him here in a few minutes, but Steve called and said that he needs me because Vecna is back and he wants Max and obviously-” he rushed out, but when you gave him a weird look he paused, clutching at his chest. “I need you to distract him until I get back from Steve’s.”
Your eyes were shining. And if Dustin saw, he didn’t say anything. He accepted the urgent nod you gave him, and left, but not before hugging you and yelling “He should be here soon.”
This should be good.
♡
You made sure to do it all. You took a shower first, using your favourite sprays and creams. You put on perfume, cleaned the living room, put on cute clothes. Well, not too cute, you didn’t want him to realise what you were doing. At least not at first.
It was perfect. You had waited for some alone time with Eddie since forever, and Dustin gave it to you on a silver plate, albeit unknowingly.
You jumped a bit at the knock on your door, adrenaline rushing through your veins. “Henderson, you better be ready! I even came a few minutes late so you could-… Oh, hello. You don’t look like you’re into D&D” he smiled that charming smile of his, and you took a moment to admire him. He was wearing a black shirt, black jeans and black boots. His usual clothes, but now he seemed to look even better in them.
You smiled back, opening the door so he could come inside. “I could be” you mumbled and he heard it. Of course he did. His eyes met yours, a mischievous glint in them as he kept eye contact, making his way into your living room.
“So” Eddie rubbed his hands together, falling back down on the comfortable couch. “Where’s Dusty Bun?”
You laughed out loud, sitting down next to Eddie, keeping a fair distance at first. “I see you met mother” he hummed and looked at you expectantly, to which you responded with a shrug and a small “What?”
You tried your best puppy eyes on him, hands toying with the hem of your bycicle shorts. Eddie bit back a smirk, shaking his head “He isn’t here, is he? Little fucker.”
“Actually, he told me to take care of you!” You rushed out when you noticed Eddie beginning to get up, and he looked back at you, wide-eyed. “No! I mean, he told me to stay with you until he gets back.”
Eddie exhaled loudly, ring clad fingers covering his face. “He said what?”
You were taken aback. Was he annoyed?
“Yeah, I’m sorry” you mumbled, mood already ruined. You didn’t know what to do, so you just kept fiddling with your fingers.
Eddie raised his head, looking at you through the space between his fingers. He fucked up big time. His eyes softened and one of his hands found your thigh, squeezing gently. “No, sweetheart. I just- God, he’s cancelled on me too many times now. The campaign is in two days, for fuck’s sake.”
You hummed, hand covering his, still on your thigh. His eyes met yours and he was looking at you carefully, feeling his whole body tense at your touch. “I could try to help you. I mean, I know a few things about D&D. Dustin won’t stop talking about it.”
Eddie’s heart swelled in his chest at your offer. If there was anything he liked more than a pretty girl, was one who actually showed interest in the things he liked. Especially D&D.
“Buckle up, dollface.”
♡
“God, Eddie” you sighed, finally finishing your 3 hour session of helping Eddie with his campaign. He was really passionate about it, and you loved hearing him talk, occasionally asking you for your opinion, which made you feel included and content. “This is harder than it looks. Now I understand why Dustin freaks out so much about every game.”
Eddie chuckles, running a hand through his curly hair and messing it up a little more. “What can I say, sweetheart? It’s not for the weak.”
“What are you implying, Munson?” You snort, swatting his shoulder as he laughed even louder.
Even his laugh was something to die for.
Eddie tipped his head back, leaning on the couch. “I’m joking, Y/n. You have helped me a lot, Henderson must thank you for not getting in trouble with me.”
He put on a serious face, big eyes looking at you as seriously as he could. But it didn’t last long as you both burst out laughing. He was so unserious.
“I’m joking, obviously” he rolled his eyes, still laughing a little bit. “I have some weed in my bag by the way… That’s not a joke” he grabbed his bag from the floor, searching through it.
You put your hand over his, stopping him. “I have some in my room. Come” you took a hold of his hand, dragging him up the stairs and straight to your room.
You left Eddie to sit on your bed as you searched through your makeup drawer, taking a big amount of weed from there.
Eddie’s eyes widened when he saw how much it was in there. “Woah, I don’t have that much weed at home… Where did you- how do you have that?”
Looking down at the floor timidly, you responded. “S all the weed you have ever given me.”
His eyebrows shot up, a confused look on his face. He understood, I mean, he saw the weed, but he didn’t understand… the other parts. “Why did you keep all of that? Sweetheart, that’s gold. How come you have never tried that?”
Sighing, you sat on the bed as well, legs crossed. “I don’t exactly smoke, Eddie” you explain to him, hoping that his questions would stop there. They didn’t.
“Well, what the hell do you use weed for? Wait- you snort it? That’s so fucking cool-”
“Eddie, I don’t know how to!” You raised your voice, and his words are cut short, a flabbergasted look all over his face. “Anytime you’d offered me weed, I couldn’t just say no to you. I wanted you to think I am cool.”
He said nothing and you felt even worse now. You’d just, albeit indirectly, admitted you had something for the boy, and he had no reaction. “I just wanted us to have things in common and-”
Warm. He smashed his lips against your own, and they were so soft and warm. He couldn’t hold back anymore as his once gentle hands found your hips, gripping them and bringing you to sit on his lap.
When Eddie pulled away for a moment to catch your breath, he leaned his forehead against yours, your hands still holding his face between them. You took your turn to look at him confusedly, breath uneven. “Your lips are soft” you blabbered and Eddie chuckled, kissing your nose.
You were staring unseeing into Eddie’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but bring you even closer to him, face against your neck. “You are so perfect. Fuck- I love kissing you.”
His lips were a sin against the sensitive skin on your neck. So skilled and full, you just had to grip the back of his neck, head tipped back in pleasure.
“You can do more” you whimper, pleased when you felt Eddie’s bulge against your clothed cunt, closing your eyes tightly at the sinful feeling.
Heavy silence enveloped them as Eddie stilled, because, well… he had two options. Possibly screw his friendship with Dustin or… not.
Oh no. Eddie began to panic.
“I can’t” he pulled back, shaking his head as if he was having a whole ass discussion in his mind. And boy, was he. “I can’t, Y/n. This is not right, that’s not how this is supposed to happen.”
He got up, brushing down his clothes with his hands. You had no words as you stared up at him, shivers ran down your spine when you realised that he was practically running down the stairs and you were left alone. He didn’t care, of course he didn’t. You had tried everything to make him like you, but it still wasn’t enough for him.
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson series#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things smut#eddie munson x henderson!reader#Dustin with a… hammer?
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Chalkboard Hearts - Pt II
Pairing - Teacher!Steve Harrington x Fem!Mom!Reader
WC - 4.3k
Contains - slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers, single motherhood, kindergarten teacher AU, school field trip, awkward bashful stevie, ONE use of y/n bc the story called for it sorry i don’t make the rules, mention of parent death
AN - here’s part two! I’m so thankful for the love and support you all showed on the first part and continue to show on all my works. It means so much that you guys enjoy my silly little delusions that i happened to turn into silly little stories!
Much love ~ emma
“Well, she’s excelling in English and reading, but struggling a bit with our math unit,” your daughter’s new kindergarten teacher informs you across a maplewood desk clad with plenty of miscellaneous trinkets; Abbey sits on a plastic chair next to you. Normally, it’s not recommended to bring your child to a parent/teacher conference, but with the cost of hiring a sitter lately, this was your only feasible option.
“That being said,” he continues optimistically, “I have plenty of practice worksheets I can send home with you, and if she’s still not getting it in a few weeks, I'm more than willing to stay after hours to work with her.”
You cringe at the idea of him working overtime for you or Abbey, even if it’s literally his job.
“That’s very generous, Mr. H, but–”
He cuts you off, speaking your name in a reassuring tone, “I promise, I’m happy to. It’s not as if I have anywhere else to be,” he chuckles, gesturing to the empty room where you sit.
He senses your hesitation but continues anyway, “Look, I’ll give you the worksheets, and check back in next week. Deal?” he’s clearly asking you, but Abbey beats you to the punch, “Can I use my crayons?”
“Obviously,” he phrases it as though he would expect nothing less.
Abbey gives a barely noticeable little pump of her fist. She’s wriggling around in her seat and you can tell she’s getting antsy with all the ‘grownup talk’. Steve rises first and sticks his hand out for you to shake and when you return the gesture, he takes your palm in both of his.
“Hey, Abbey’s doing great, seriously. You have nothing to worry about,” maybe you look anxious at the prospect of your child struggling in a subject because you somehow weren’t attentive enough, or maybe he can just read you like a book. Either way, his hands on you are dizzying.
“I appreciate that,” you offer him a tender smile as he releases you from his grasp. “What do you say, Abbey? Wanna head home?”
She immediately deflates at the question. School has been in session for barely two months, and all she can seem to talk about is her new teacher. The car rides home and dinners at the table are spent telling tales of his Star Wars impressions, or how he hangs up every picture he’s given on the corkboard behind his desk– how he lets the class have extra recess time if they behave all day long, and how he ‘never ever’ raises his voice.
You can always picture it so easily. There’s something naturally whimsical about him, and anyone can tell he was made for this career. There’s a distant fear that the infatuation Abbey seems to have with him is caused by the absence of her own father, and you wish constantly to be able to give her that– to be two parents for the price of one– but as much as she adores you, there’s always going to be a void in her life that you alone can’t fill. It makes you ache to dwell on it for too long.
“Can’t we stay just a little bit longer?” She pleads with glistening eyes.
“I’m sure Mr. H wants to get home too, Ab,” at that, her features twist into a pout.
Steve kneels in front of her, “I’m gonna see you on Monday though, right?” She tearfully nods, “Good,” he grins and gives her hair a little ruffle when he stands.
“You two have a good weekend, and drive home safe, okay?”
You send him a shy wave, “You too, Mr. H,”
As you’re making your way down the hallway towards the exit with Abbey's hand clasped tightly in yours, you hear a voice along with heavy footfall echo after you, “Wait!--”
When you turn around, Steve’s lightly jogging towards you with a flyer in his hand, “I forgot to give you this,” he pants when he catches up. He hands you a colorful paper advertising a class field trip to Spiller Farm– an orchard a few miles outside of town.
He runs a hand through his hair, mussed from a stressful day doing exactly that, “We still need a few more chaperones, I wanted to ask if you’d be able to?”
Abbey’s demeanor becomes instantly lighter as she begins tugging on your arm, “Please, mommy?!” she begs, as if she’d even have to. “Definitely! Let me double check my schedule and make sure I’m not working,” you smile kindly, “I’ll let you know on Monday when I drop her off,”
For a split second, Steve considers just giving you his number before he thinks better of it. You barely know him, for Christ’s sake. I’d look like a complete creep, He thinks.
“Y-yeah– that’s fine,” he winces at his own awkwardness, “Trip’s on Wednesday,” again feeling like a blundering idiot, as the flyer he just handed you clearly states as much.
If you notice though, you don’t mention it. You simply say,
“See you Monday,”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Abbey seemed to be in better spirits by the time you made it home and popped a frozen pizza into the oven. You’ve always envied the rebound rate of her sour moods; maybe you should take a page out of her book.
She sits at the table playing with two perfectly groomed Barbie Dolls. Her other toys were a different story– baby doll’s with botched haircuts, stuffed animals with unidentifiable stains and the occasional hole, but her Barbies were always considered with the utmost care a five-year-old could offer.
“Mr. H says his favorite pizza is pepperoni,” she says from where she sits behind you, “is that what kind we’re having?”
“No, silly goose, you don’t like pepperoni,” you remind her, “you always say it’s too spicy,”
“Oh, okay,” she sounds indifferent; she trusts you to remember what she likes and dislikes on her behalf, sparing no room in her growing brain for such trivial facts.
“Can I have four slices?” She asks sweetly. You hum and pretend to give it some thought before bargaining, “How about I give you one slice first, and then if you’re still hungry, you can have more?”
She nods, taking the bait. You eventually make it to the table, plates in hand, and eat the greasy slices in a comfortable silence until Abbey asks,
“What kind of pizza did my daddy like?”
It’s not the first time she’s asked questions about Jeremy, and you know it won’t be the last, but your heart still sinks a little every time she does.
“Your dad liked hawaiian pizza, that was his favorite,”
“‘ha-way-en’?” she mispronounces, “what’s that?” her little features contort with confusion.
You correct her pronunciation and reply, “Well, technically It’s a state, but hawaiian pizza has ham and pineapple on it,”
Her confusion morphs to disgust and she giggles, “Ew!”
“I know,” her laughter is contagious, “I don’t like it either,” you wave your hand in front of your nose in a ‘P.U’ gesture.
Her father is no longer a topic of conversation after that. It was always like this– the questions generally mundane and inconsequential, not realizing that the images she’s conjuring are covered in cobwebs and dust; buried deep in the forgotten corners of your subconscious.
When you’re a kid, nothing holds that kind of weight. Petty things like broken toys or an early bedtime are the most of her worries and memories aren’t so burdening– yet another thing you envy of her youth.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
The next few days go by without a hitch– school, ballet class and homemade dinners every night– that is until Wednesday morning when you wake up and are immediately confronted with the sun cascading through your curtains, and your alarm that's been beeping for thirty minutes longer than it normally does.
Abbey is straddling your lap and vigorously shaking your shoulders, “Mom! Mom, we have to go!” The panic you feel outweighs the embarrassment of being woken up late by your own child, and you rush to slip on a pair of jeans and the first sweater you make out on top of your hamper.
A sideways glance at the clock tells you that you have exactly three minutes to get out the door– it appears that your go-to look lately is bags under your eyes and your hair scooped up into the nearest claw clip. The trend continues today, though you’re able to dab on a little concealer while Abbey puts her boots on in the mudroom.
You’re both shocked and amazed that she’s dressed– her outfit even mostly coordinating. Unfortunately, the remains of what was supposed to be a ham and cheese sandwich are littered all over the counter. Crackers for lunch today it is.
Grabbing her mostly empty backpack, you ask, “You got everything, Ab?”
“Yep!” She shouts, mostly because she was already outside and standing in the driveway, waiting for you to unlock the car for her.
When you get to the school, several golden buses are parked in a single file line and opening their doors for dozens of children to pour in. A little mortified, you realize you’re the last parent here, and silently pray that there’ll still be a seat for you and Abbey on the bus.
You’re searching for Steve, albeit unconsciously. You aren’t acquainted with any of the other teachers, and he’s your life raft in this sea of chaos and PTA soccer moms. You don’t have to look for very long though, before your name is being shouted from a few feet away on the tarmac. Grasping Abbey’s wrist, you shoulder your way over to where he stands waiting.
“Hey–I’m so sorry, I somehow slept through my alarm this morning,” you blush and muss Abbey’s hair, “this little gremlin woke me up, actually,”
She shakes your hand off her head, “Hey!” she frowns.
“You’re good, promise. I saved you a seat, and Abbey,” he redirects his attention, “Clarissa B. asked to sit with you, is that okay?”
She’s too excited to bother responding, instead dashing inside in an attempt to find her friend. You hear a muffled warning of ‘no running!’, eliciting a shared laugh between the two of you.
“After you,” Steve steps back to let you in first. You spot the only available seat which is dead in the front of the bus– and when you sit down, Steve sits down next to you.
“Well, uh,” he scratches his neck nervously when you scoot to make room for him, “I saved us a seat. Is what I meant.”
“It’s okay,” you give a reassuring breath of laughter, “I don’t mind,”
“Right,” he clears his throat and you feel the bus shift gears to make its way towards the
orchard.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
You’ve never been this close to Steve before and right away the space is enveloped with whatever cologne he’s wearing and the spearmint scent of the gum he’s been absentmindedly chewing. He smells of cedar and something musky; cinnamon and spice. You notice now all of the freckles and moles that form constellations over his forearms and neck.
When the silence between you becomes a little too stiff– pleasantries about the weather having subsided nearly ten minutes ago– he asks, “Have you ever been to Spiller Farm?”
“Yeah I– I have,” you say, unsure why you’re suddenly nervous, “My parents used to take me every year when I was Abbey’s age to go apple picking. Have you?”
“Oh, no,” he’s fixated on his hands folded in his lap, shaking his head, “this’ll be my first time, I actually grew up in Indiana,”
“Indianapolis?” You question curiously.
He gave a humorless laugh, “I wish. It was a uh…much smaller town,” he finally looks at you then, faces much closer than you realized in the cramped bus seat, “I came to Maine for college, liked it so much I guess I didn’t want to leave.” This time when he smiles, it looks genuine.
He clears his throat and continues, “Abbey tells me you work in a hospital– RN?
It was remarkable how much you knew about each other despite having very little conversations that didn’t surround Abbey; thanks to your oversharing kindergartener.
You wish that you could tell him you were a nurse, feeling increasingly embarrassed at your lack of a college education, but instead you reply, “Reception,” with a tight lipped smile. Having Abbey so young, and doing it alone at that, left no time for degrees or prestigious jobs.
You expect a sympathetic expression in response, maybe even distaste, but you find only sincerity etched across his features when he says, “That’s really neat, I could never do that. Hospitals they…kinda give me the heebie jeebies,”
“It’s definitely not for the faint of heart,” you agree, “I have so many crazy stories,”
“Well, I’d love to hear them sometime,” he smiles at you so tenderly that it makes you want to disintegrate and float away among the air that breezes through the open bus windows.
“Yeah, I’d like that”, you say, distracted by the hazel flecks in what you had previously thought were brown eyes. Luckily, the distinct jolt of tire on gravel bails you out of more awkward silence and before you know it, you’re filing off the bus and breathing in the scent of freshly picked apples and cow manure.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
You foolishly forget that Steve isn’t just here with you and your daughter on his own accord, and does actually have to do his job of wrangling children and organizing the day's activities. He proceeds to do a headcount, looking like he means business with one hand propped on his hip and a clipboard gripped in the other.
He captures everyone’s attention with ease as he does a quick call and response gesture, ‘Clap, Clap, Clap Clap Clap,’ you’re shocked at how efficiently it works to halt their chattering.
“Good morning, everyone!” He beams and the class responds with a choir of high-pitched ‘Good Morning, Mr. H!’’s, he continues, “Alright, so, I’m going to be splitting everyone into small groups. Each parent will have about five kiddos, and I’ll just be floating around to make sure everything goes smoothly. Sound like a plan?”
Everyone agrees in a sea of nods and murmurs and the kids bounce with anticipation– hoping that they might get placed in the same group as their friends. Finally, you hear your name called and Steve pairs you with five children: your own daughter, her friend Clarissa B., a little boy named Beck, his younger sister and a timid little girl named Sophia. You breathe a sigh of relief that you hadn’t realized you were holding when it becomes obvious that all the kids you were assigned seemed to be fairly reserved and not too rowdy.
You lead your little flock over to the barn, where several farm hands are waiting to assist the children in petting the cows, pigs and other various animals. There are red buckets full of pellets that you assume is feed for the goats scattered along the ground, and you can practically feel Abbey buzzing with excitement beside you. She had been begging you for a pet practically the second after she said her first word.
Steve makes his way over to you from the rows of apple trees in the orchard section of the farm while you supervise the kids holding their tiny palms out to the ravenous livestock– slightly anxious that one of them might lose a finger.
You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, “C’mon, don’t wanna pet a dirt-covered sheep?” Steve quips when he reaches you.
“Not particularly,” you huff a laugh, “I was never really a ‘farm animal’ person. I think a dog would suit me just fine,”
“Do you have one?”
“Oh, no. Abbey’s been asking me for one since she was, like, two? I think? I just don’t have the time, you know?”
“Believe me, I get it.” He seems pensive when he responds, looking out over the expanse of the farm, “I never had a pet growing up, either,”
Before you have the chance to express your remorse, Abbey calls, “Mommy, look! Come pet the goat!”
“Be right there!” You call back with thinly veiled reluctance.
“You heard the girl,” Steve pats your shoulder where his hand had been as if to say ‘Go on’. He has an amused if not smug expression when you turn to face him.
“Why don’t you go pet the goat, Mr. H,”
“Hey, she asked for you! Don’t shoot the messenger,” He laughs, “Don’t worry, I'll take over supervising for a minute,” he sends you a wink and it makes your stomach drop, just a bit, like when you miss a step on a staircase but catch yourself just before you fall.
A similar feeling strikes you when you actually do fall, slipping on a particularly slick patch of mud and landing flat on your back. It temporarily knocks the wind out of you, but the sensation is quickly replaced by a white hot embarrassment. Steve’s at your side in an instant, albeit poorly concealing a laugh, “Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, a little bewildered as he kneels down to help you up and getting his own jeans muddy in the process. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind.
You groan, out of discomfort or humiliation, you’re not sure. He wraps two calloused hands around your biceps and hoists you up with a surprising amount of strength. By the time you’re on your feet again, Abbey’s also rushing towards you.
“Mommy, you have mud on your butt,” she giggles. Always Captain Obvious, your daughter.
“Thanks baby, I see that,”
She’s trying to shrug off her jacket to tie around your waist, even if she finds your current predicament rather amusing, but you stop her before she can get very far, “Keep it, Ab, it’s chilly out. I’m okay,” you falsely promise.
“Here, you can have mine,” Steve takes his windbreaker off to hand to you.
“Oh– you don’t have to do that, Steve,” feeling guilty that he’s even offering, “I’ll get mud all over it– and won’t you be cold?”
“Nah,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “I run warm, plus I hear they just came out with these cool things that clean your clothes for you when they get dirty– washing machines I think they’re called?”
You playfully smack his arm and he smirks, “Don’t get smart, Harrington,” taking the jacket from him nonetheless, “Thank you. I’ll wash it for you tonight,”
He shoves his hands in his pockets after you take the garment, unsure what to do with them now that they’re empty, “Don’t mention it,” and there's that damned smile again.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
You promised Abbey yesterday that you could pick a bag of apples to make a pie together, so once everyone is satisfied with the time spent at the barn, you all make your way to the dozens of rows of trees, adorned with fresh, bright red fruit for plucking.
“What kind of apples do you think, Ab?” you look down to ask her, “They have Gala, Empire, Granny Smith,” you read off the signs marking each aisle.
“Whichever is the most juicy!”
“That would probably be HoneyCrisp, those are over this way, I think,” you say, putting a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the right direction.
Abbey does more eating than picking, leaving you with all the heavy lifting, despite the numerous ‘No Eating’ signs. You just can’t bring yourself to stop her– not when she looks at you with so much unbridled joy. Eating the apples straight off the tree had always been your favorite part, too.
A row over from the one you were in, you watch as Steve lifts another student onto his shoulders so he can pick the specific apple he was jumping for, and you have to fight the corners of your lips from quirking up into a smile.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
There was a small wooden cabin near the gravel parking lot that doubled as a gift shop, and the shelves were stocked full of handmade knick knacks, glass bottles of maple syrup, and all sorts of treats. It smelled wonderfully of freshly baked fritters and cinnamon.
“Can I get this candy apple, mom?”
“I don’t know, baby, we have to make sure it doesn’t have any peanuts,”
Petulant whining follows before a cheerful, silvery voice declares, “Don’t worry, dear, It doesn’t.” When you turn to find the source, you’re met with an older, stout woman with grey hair adorned in a bandana– the owner, you presume.
“Can I, mommy?”
“Alright, okay. Put it on the counter with the bag of apples,”
She makes a beeline to the wooden counter, barely able to reach over the top as she slams the treat down, sporting a toothy grin.
“Thank you–” you search for her nametag but find nothing.
She fills in the blank for you, “Dorothy,” her lips wobble just a little when she smiles, face wrinkling from decades of laughter and grinning.
“Any time, honey. You two take care now,” she says when she finishes checking out your items. She wags a finger at Abbey, “You be good for your momma, missy,”
“Yes ma’am,” Abbey replies politely.
She skips in front of you contentedly, apple in hand, out of the shop and towards the rest of the waiting students.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Back on the bus, Abbey naps against your chest despite being slightly too big and the candy apple she begged you for is now getting stuck to your sleeve, but you don’t dare disturb her. Steve sits beside you again and this time the silence is much more tolerable; both of you exhausted from a day of governing twenty children, give or take.
“Abbey, uhm, told me about her dad,” he says timidly, nervous that the subject might cross a boundary, “I wanted to offer my condolences.”
You’d already resigned yourself to the fact that you’d have this conversation eventually– especially with Abbey being school aged now.
“I appreciate that,” you reassure, “It was a long time ago, I don’t think Abbey even remembers anything about him.” You realize in real time that this is the reason her questioning of her father has increased in the past few weeks.
He nods and pauses before he continues; contemplating, “Can I ask what happened?”
You turn only your head to look at him and he clarifies, “Abbey only said he ‘went to heaven’,”
“He, uh– car accident.” you answer simply, returning your gaze back to the crown of Abbey’s head resting peacefully on your chest, “She was just about a year old,”
The expression twisting his features urges you to reiterate that you’re okay– you’re both okay. You’ve had nearly six years to reconcile the loss of Jeremy; you’ve mourned, you’ve grieved and you’ve placed his memory tight in a sector of your heart that was designated just for him. But you didn’t want the pity anymore– you didn’t want to be the widow.
He seems to comprehend this despite you having said very little, and decides to drop the topic for now.
“She talks about you all the time, you know.” You nudge him gently with your shoulder and he becomes suddenly shy– a slight blush tinting his cheeks.
“She talks about you all the time,” he counters, “just goes on and on about how her mom makes the best boxed mac and cheese, and always plays make believe with her– even when she says she’s tired.”
You feel the sting of unwanted tears welling behind your eyes, “Well, I–”
“--You do the best you can, and you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit,” he interrupts before you have the chance to discount yourself, “You’re a great mom, Y/N.”
One of the aforementioned tears breaches the edge of your lash line and falls rapidly down our cheek, dropping onto the soft cushion of Abbey’s hair. When the bus abruptly stops, you wipe your face quickly and smear the salty trail it left in its wake.
You harshly clear your throat, “Thanks, Steve,”
“You do that a lot,”
“I feel it a lot.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:* *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Back at home, you set Abbey up in front of the television and peel your mud stained jeans off to throw them immediately in the wash, along with Steve’s jacket; not bothering with the hamper.
Once you’ve taken a quick shower to rinse the remaining crusted dirt off your thighs, you make your way back into the dimly lit living room to find Abbey asleep, once again, with her knees tucked into her chest, and the technicolor screen illuminating her features in tones of muted blue.
You strain your back to pick her up, but it’ll be worth it when she’s no longer small enough to carry bridal style into her all pink bedroom, and set atop her princess sheets. You’re thankful to have gotten her into her pajamas already– foreseeing this would happen.
There’s a dull longing in the center of your chest as you kiss her forehead and tuck the comforter up to her chin. It’s that same tug you felt after Jeremy died, when you realized you’d be putting your daughter to bed alone from that point on. It festered and grew until one day it became so routine that you didn’t remember what it felt like to have your partner there next to you, and then it dissipated completely.
Until tonight.
Except for this time the longing wasn’t for Jeremy. It wasn’t even for that ‘perfect man’ you’d sometimes conjure up in your mind’s eye just before you fell asleep at night.
It was for someone new.
divider credit to @/strangergraphics
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Polaroid #3 July 2nd 1987
#inklessletter#trust the process#trust the series#polaroid series#steddie#steddie fanart#steve harrington#eddie munson#digital art#bw#fanart#stranger things#stranger things fanart#st fanart#steve x eddie#inky art#my art#go ahead people#do your thing#i told you you could trust me#love you all#btw to all of you confused users do NOT tag this as byler THANK YOU nor any of the works of this series (nor any of my steddie work thx)
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