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little-annie · 2 years ago

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All I Want | Ch6

Steddie | Little_Annie | Ao3

Ch.5 ⤵️

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Eddie's POV

It's still a blurry memory in his mind, waking up to the bright lights of the hospital, beeping machines, garbled words and lips on his own. He remembers speaking to someone, but not who or why.

The day Eddie Muson had woken up was a weird one. It's just a mishmash of flashes and unrecognisable blurs of faces, sounds distant in the sense that everything seemed to be drowned out by non-existent water in his ears.

The moment was short lived, the pain in his abdomen sending him into a tailspin before the nurses pumped him full of painkillers and he was absolutely loopy for days to follow.

The next time he came to, it was much less dramatic. Wayne was at his side and the room was quiet. No loud machines or indescribable voices or sounds, just Wayne Munson in his work clothes, snoring in the chair next to the hospital bed.

Eddie had taken a moment to just breathe, trying to piece together how he'd ended up in the hospital in the first place, but there was nothing. Not a single thing had come to mind as to why his sides ached and he was confined to such a stale sanitary place.

Wayne snoring himself awake to his left, pulled Eddie's attention back from his thoughts only for the old man to nearly jump out of his seat and run to the door calling for a nurse upon seeing Eddie awake once again.

There were questions, nurses asking him his name and the current year, to list his friends names and describe the last thing he remembers.

They were all easy, well, except for the last one, but fuck, his memorie's shit to begin with, so he didn't pay that fact much mind. Though, after the nurse had left him and Wayne alone, Eddie had a few questions of his own.

Rough words around what he'd later find out to be a stitched back together lip, he asked Wayne a multitude of questions, starting off with a scratchy, "Anyone come see me?"

It maybe shouldn't have been his first question, though he couldn't help but feel an aching swell in his chest, thinking there should have been more than just Wayne at his bedside.

He recalls Wayne's face doing something funny, the man looking oddly uncomfortable before asking, "Who you expectin' kid?"

His friends for one. He remembers thinking how odd it was to not see one of the guys, Gareth especially, come strutting through the door, snacks in hand, like he had the other times Eddie had been hospitalised. Broken bones, a nasty case of the flu and one memorable electrocution and they'd all been there, laughing, hopping around, lightening the mood with their antics.

"The boys?" Eddie asked, continuing after trying to get comfortable in his damn bed, "I dunno, Gareth, Jeff. At least someone from the band?"

But Wayne had shaken his head, a sad look on his face as he had said, "Sorry son."

They'd both been quiet for a moment, Eddie surveying the bandages wrapped around his body, his stomach twisting at the thought of what could have possibly done this time him, and then he asked, "What even happened?"

"Wild dog," Wayne said rather abruptly, oddly, almost as if it was practised

Eddie had scrunched his nose in thought, still to this day he doesn't recall there ever being anything like wild dogs in Hawkins, but he couldn't help but ask, "Like a Coyote?"

Wayne had shook his head, eyes down turned to focus on the floor as he spoke, "Just some feral thing. Took a good chunk outta ya kid." The man grimaced, wringing his ball cap anxiously in his hands, "had me worried there for a while."

He supposed that was valid. But he could see the pain in Wayne's eyes as they continued to visit and sooner rather than later, Eddie found himself going quiet to spare the old man his troubles.

Eventually he'd been released, rolling his way through the hospital to Wayne's truck out front, needing some much unwanted assistance getting into the cab of the vehicle from a wheelchair.

That was something he definitely took getting used to, still putting up a fight for his independence to this day.

Though even when he returned home his life wasn't anything spectacular. He was still just Eddie Munson but the ride through Hawkins proved to be a surreal thing. Buildings in ruin, some torn down to utter rubble while others showed only the faintest signs of distress. It was odd. As were the still remaining support stations through town where it seemed some residents still resided or flocked to for donations.

According to Wayne, while Eddie was out, a rather aggressive earthquake shook the town to its core. Tearing fissures in its surface and ripping entire neighbourhoods apart.

As much seemed true when they had to take a different route than Eddie remembered to the trailer park, Wayne citing this would all be back to normal soon enough when the big wigs left town.

Whatever that meant.

Eddie was grateful upon arriving home, seeing that their trailer only encountered minimal damage, much of which was already repaired.

His first week back he was confined to the trailer, Wayne taking a week off of work to keep him company. How they afforded that, Eddie hadn't the slightest clue.

Eventually the boys from Corroded Coffin came around after school, bringing pop, pizza and homework that'd get left behind for at least the remainder of the evening.

It was good seeing the guys. Their presence provided some relief to his relationship with Wayne. Don't get him wrong, he loves the man and everything he's ever done for him, but Eddie needs a break every once in a while from the constant southern monotone.

By the time he was able to drive and get around fine on his own, Eddie was back at school and though he missed having something to do, a goal to achieve, he didn't miss the looks a handful of students and faculty would shoot his way. Their glares only turned up tenfold from what Eddie remembers from his past.

Along with attending school and searching for a job that wasn't drug dealing, Wayne had him running errands. If anything it was probably just to keep him busy, but it was then that he ran into Steve Harrington and some curly haired kid he couldn't help but take a liking to.

It was upon ramming his cart into Harrington's gut that a familiar flutter returned to his chest. God the man was pretty and it didn't quite help that he babysat nerds on the side either.

Eddie remembers the shimmer in the man's eyes and the blush he's sure he imagined on his cheeks. But he couldn't help for the nights to follow to wish he could make Steve Harrington blush like that once again.

Even if the guy was an asshole, that didn't stop Eddie from thinking he was the prettiest fucking thing on the planet. All that speckled olive skin, hazel eyes and plush lips. Fuck. Why'd the hot ones always have to be the straight douchebags?

But it was a surprise to him to learn from Wayne of all people that apparently Steve wasn't such a dickhead anymore? Supposedly he was part of the relief program after the earthquake, volunteering his time to repair the homes and hearts of the community.

Still Eddie couldn't believe it.

Another thing upon arriving home…

It was odd at first, Eddie felt like he was going half nuts, but upon ramming his foot into about six different things in his bedroom, he could have sworn everything was moved an inch to the left. Like in the month he was gone some fucker came in and moved everything around.

But that couldn't be it.

It was just... just everything felt weird. Lacking something. Out of place, not his own.

And then there were things he didn't recognize. Like a faded yellow sweater folded neatly on his nightstand, a couple new tapes he knew he'd been saving up for but hadn't purchased yet. Just weird things like that.

Fancy shampoo in the shower, the scent of citrus and cinnamon that lingered in his sheets.

The way he felt a pang of something in his chest everytime that scent flooded his senses. It was a weird feeling. A gaping something. But it remained unnamed and unmoored, lacking the connection to something that felt just outside of his grasp.

But he knew Wayne had gone to the thrift store after the earthquake, replacing items that may have been lost or damaged. Picking out things for himself, the neighbours or the donation bins. Maybe he grabbed a few things for Eddie while he was there too. Albeit, a yellow sweater that's very much not to his taste but is the absolute comfiest thing in the world. So much so it's become his sleep shirt on the nights he feels restless, it's warmth and the scent of what must be Wayne's new brand of laundry detergent -cinnamon and citrus- lulling him into a rather easy sleep.

—

The days dragged on, monotonous as they'd always been and for some reason, today proved to be a long one.

Eddie had managed to make it to school on time by the grace of whatever holy deity he didn't believe in. His bandages falling loose in his haste as he came crashing into his morning biology class with a rather painful flop into a plastic chair. He hadn't even made it through half of the class before he was sent to the nurse for his seeping chest wound. The thing was being a stubborn fucker, the stitches having ripped a handful of times in the last weeks.

From there on it was a blur of bitchy sneers and pointless information, but what with finals approaching and hopefully graduation, Eddie kept his head down.

It'd been a hell of a day and after running a few resumes around town after school, Eddie found himself at Family Video, exchanging pleasantries with one Robin Buckley before trading a pocket full of change for a classic horror fic and some Licorice.

He and Wayne pulled into the drive at the same time, the two of them attempting to race their way to the front door, which on Eddie's end only appeared as a slow hobble. Instead of a victory speech the old man stole Eddie's candy before he could even protest, smiling around a stick of Licorice as he mumbled something about Eddie's gimpy leg and smokers lungs.

It was nice having an evening together, it'd been a rare thing in the past and now that Wayne's back at work again after taking that week off, they hadn't really seen each other much lately. Running in circles around one another, communicating through graphic coffee mugs and notes scribbled onto sticky notes left around the trailer.

It was a nice change of pace being able to make supper together and chat about their days over a beer. Wayne seemed to have a rather boring day at the plant, no new gossip or news to be shared. Not like in the past when he'd come home to tell Eddie about Jim sleeping with Jon, while Jon's wife was sleeping with the maintenance man who happened to be Jim's cousin.

He chuckled at the memory, small town gossip and all that.

He'd told Wayne of all the places he'd applied for jobs, none of which going any further than a curt nod and a 'we're not hiring but I'll keep this on hand for when we are.' He was beginning to think he'd have to start branching into the surrounding towns if he hoped to get anything at all. The people of Hawkins having some weird stick up their ass about hiring him, applying a few towns over might be his only option.

Plus, if he graduated it's not like he could live with Wayne forever. Maybe it'd be a good thing for him to branch out of Hawkins.

Though, Wayne seemed to have some reservations about that idea that he wasn't entirely willing to share.

Eventually they ate supper in front of the TV, watching one of Wayne's ball games up until the old man had to go across the road and help old Mrs. Kelly with something or other. That's when Eddie finally popped in his rental and settled into the couch with a bag of chips and a cold beer.

It was times like these that that weird gaping something in his chest ached. It was an odd thing, the open cushion next to him feeling oddly bare and the air around him lacking something so specific but so out of reach.

It was times like these when he'd make his way to his room, pull on that yellow sweater from Wayne and burrow into the couch a little deeper. The faded yellow garment becoming something like a security blanket of sorts; it worked wonders most days. Though it didn't entirely solve that weird something, it did aid in dulling it.

Wayne entered the trailer nearly an hour later looking a little worse for ware, covered in motor oil and grime, huffing something about how 'Kathy really needs t' stop tryin' to change her own damn oil, ninety six ain't so spry anymore,' and wading off to the bathroom for a shower, only to return ten minutes later and flash Eddie a puzzling look before settling into the couch next to him, looking at him with a side eye every so often.

"What?" Eddie asked around the Licorice in his mouth

Wayne's brow furrowed, looking Eddie up and down once with a considering look before moving his attention back to the TV, "Why ya wearing that?"

There was no heat found in his tone, though in its place Eddie couldn't help but sense a sad curiosity.

"What?" He asked again, his own brows creasing as he looked at his uncle

"That sweater Son, it's not really your thing."

Eddie hummed, looking down at himself. Wayne wasn't wrong, but for some reason he couldn't help but think he was also the furthest thing from right. There was something special about the sweater, it made his heart feel fuller for some odd reason. He shrugged, pinched the soft fabric between his fingers, "Dunno, just like it I guess. S' cosy."

Wayne only hummed in response.

—

A day that was filled with rushing around, bleeding wounds and sneers from strangers, Eddie was glad to have a calm evening.

Eventually retiring to his bedroom when Wayne too turned in for the night, Eddie found himself laying in his bed, hanging upside down with a joint tucked between his lips and Judas Priest playing in the background.

It was then that he couldn't help but let the moments of the last few weeks play through his mind.

Finally getting back home.

Finally see the boys again.

Finally getting back into the routine of things.

Well, and then there was the Steve Harrington of it all.

He'd only seen the man once since he'd gotten out of the hospital but it only took that single moment for his everlasting crush to flare like a fire in his chest.

He hadn't stopped thinking about the man since.

Needless to say he'd found himself hoping to bump into Steve again, disappointed every time he rounded that same corner in the grocery store to find the aisle empty or at the very least void of the speckle skinned beauty.

It was a hopeless thing to try and wish his crush on Steve Harrington away. Even in Harrington's darkest days when he was a raging asshole Eddie was still a teensy bit in love with the man.

Though moping and wishing Steve to even be the slightest bit gay wouldn't change anything.

I just wasn't in the cards for this reality and unfortunately that's something Eddie's heart couldn't seem to wrap its mind around. Oftentimes would he find himself daydreaming of the man, simple scenarios that seemed all too vivid for even his thriving imagination. It only hurt his heart more knowing that's something he could never have.

Like that day when he was making breakfast and couldn't help but think what it'd be like to have Steve's arms around his waist and lips on his neck.

Or that day when he took a walk into the woods only to imagine what it'd be like to hold Steve against a tree and kiss his way down the man's body.

After that single interaction in the grocery store, Eddie found it to not only be his waking thoughts to be polluted by the man. His dreams now too being a painfully vivid reminder of what he could never have.

Near nightly he'd catch himself waking with a pillow held tightly in his arms, the memory of Steve Harrington's lips on his own fading with the night as the sun crept into the sky.

Many times too he would wake from a mid afternoon, mid chemistry class nap, with the memory of Steve's hands on his body, embarrassed by the flush in his cheeks and tightness in his pants.

He just couldn't shake the man, like he was haunted by the ghost of something he could truly only ever dream of.

Though that didn't stop him from mid joint letting his mind wander.

Douchebag tendencies be damned, given the chance he'd take it.

Given the chance he'd love Steve Harrington. Pepper him with kisses and sing him the sweetest of songs. Hold him throughout the night, below the moon and under the midday sun, whispering every beautiful word the man brought to mind against tanned, speckled skin. He'd taste the salt of Steve's flesh and melt into the sounds that left his lips as air escaped him in a gasp.

Given the chance he'd treat Steve Harrington like sunshine.

Because under all that hair and sass and rich boy attitude, Eddie's knows there's something akin to the beauty of the sun. Bright and beautiful, gold and honey. The source of life itself.

Given the chance, Eddie would let Steve Harrington be his sunshine.

—

It's several hours later when Eddie finds himself tangled in a heap of blankets, the moonlight streaming through his window, blinding upon meeting his eye.

The phone's ringing, incessantly so, loud and blaring and Wayne has to work too fucking early for some asshole to be calling this time of night.

Eddie pulls himself from bed with a groan, shuffling himself through the moonlit trailer until he finds the phone on the wall. With a grumpy grunt he pulls it from the hook and slumps against the panelling, letting out a groggy, "Hello?"

Instantly he thinks it's another prank call, some asshole getting off on calling 'The Freak' a murder or something else equally as creative.

Then there's a commotion suddenly on the other end of the line, a broken breath and a hollow thud.

That ache in his chest burns but he ignores it, listening to nothing but short quick breaths beating into his ear.

"Hello?" He repeats, irritation quickly creeping into his tone, "…. I swear to fuck if this is another prank call…"

The line remains silent and after another second Eddie hangs up with a huff, only making it to his bedroom door before it begins to ring again.

He stands there, watching it ring until he hears it disturb Wayne, the old man grumbling in his sleep for Eddie to answer the damn phone.

Eddie grumbles to himself, dragging his tired body to the phone only to growl into the line upon picking up, "What?"

But again he's met with silence and the occasional shuddered breaths, he's just about to give whoever it is a piece of his mind when he notices Wayne, tired and grumpy coming to the phone.

Exhausted and nearing his soon approaching shift, Wayne rubs the sleep from his eyes, "What's going on Ed? It's fuckin' three in the mornin'."

Eddie grits his teeth, combing a hand through hair, tucking the phone against his shoulder as he speaks, "Some asshole keeps callin'."

Wayne huffs, reaching a calloused hand out and making a grabbing motion for the phone, "Let me talk to 'em."

Poor fucker, Eddie thinks to himself, handing the phone off to Wayne and taking his leave, shuffling off to his bedroom only to colapse with a grunt into his bed and pass out once again.

—

That night, while Wayne's outside talking the love of Eddie's life down from a panic attack and Steve Harrington himself is a grieving mess surrounded by a puddle of his own tears on a hardwood floor, Eddie dreams of hazel eyes and sun kissed skin. Yellow sweater still wrapped around his body, he clings to a pillow that smells like home.

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soaringskystuff · 1 month ago

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rockstar!eddie written by bug is always PEAK writing😩

rockstar eddie punching the lights out of sleazy paps who try to take upskirt pics of you as you’re leaving the afterparty

ty for requesting! — rockstar!eddie defends you from the creepy paparazzi (rockstar!eddie universe, established relationship | 1.1k)

Post-show adrenaline rushes through your veins like ice-cold water. Your limbs go numb with it, hands trembling like leaves as you give your dressing room a last once-over. Beneath the heartbeat in your ears, you notice the screaming audience has gone slowly quiet — which usually means they’re rushing to the backstage doors.

You have approximately one minute to get to the tour bus before a crowd starts swarming.

Eddie, however, continues to lounge on the plush leather sofa like a king despite the ever-shrinking timeline.

His leather pants sit low on his hips, enough to reveal the trail of hair on his stomach leading to the tight tanktop he wears under his leather jacket. His curls are wild and sticky with sweat. His eyes are glassy with alcohol and adrenaline, a couple of chocolate buttons lined around the edges with black eye-pencil.

He looks heavenly, an angel built for sin, but you don’t have time to admire him now.

“C’mon, Eds. We gotta go,” you huff after you’ve checked all the drawers, effectively sweating beneath your faux fur coat.

“Wait. Hold on,” Eddie calls to your retreating form, unmoving from his spot on the sofa.

You freeze in the doorway. “What?” you call to him in an unenthusiastic monotone.

“Nothing…” Eddie lilts as his pink mouth curls into a crooked smile. “You just look really pretty tonight.”

You look hardly a thing like he’s used to — his quiet girl from Hawkins with an easily excitable temper, who was so talented that it bordered on annoying at times. You look less like a GAP catalog and more like a rockstar. Bold makeup, tight dress, thick fur coat, and rings on every finger. You look divine. Eddie doesn’t know how he got you.

Your eyes narrow into thin slits. “Just tonight?”

“Every night,” Eddie corrects.

“C’mon. We don’t have time for this,” you grouse with a roll of your eyes.

Your high-heeled boots sound heavy on the thin carpet as you stomp over to the lazing boy. Your cold hands wrap around his wrist to pull him upward. Eddie trails behind you while you drag him out of the empty dressing room.

The crowd beats you to the backstage door.

The crew has long loaded your equipment onto the tour bus. Gareth and Jeff wait for you there, too, sufficiently protected from the mob swarming outside. It’s all blurred faces and camera flashes and grabbing hands. Everyone’s shouting so many different things at once that their words all run together in a dizzying drone.

Eddie ducks his head and leads the charge through the masses. He keeps his ringed hand tightly wound with yours as he rushes through the crowd with his face half-hidden in his hair.

You last that way for no longer than a moment or more before your hand slides from his. Eddie’s head whips around to find you sloppily signing your name on posters with your face on it, band merch, and the top one woman’s scantily-clad chest.

He hates when you stop for autographs in places as crowded as this. ‘Cause someone always gets too grabby or too pushy, and Eddie has to get mean.

The surrounding paparazzi start to close in — shouting your names, all eager for the best shot of you, and hoping for the cover of the following days’ magazine.

The roaring crowd gets in between the two of you. Eddie feels like his heart’s in his throat when you get trapped in the mob, still smiling politely and scribbling autographs to cover your panic. Eddie pushes his way through the people to get to you with a lot less gentility.

“Hey, back a little bit, would ya?” he shouts to the aggressive paps shoving their cameras every which way.

Everyone’s screaming too loud to listen.

He reaches you no more than ten seconds later, though it had felt like an eternity at the time, and spots a camera angled far too low to be casual. A man with a receding hairline and sweaty upper lip stands behind you and takes a number of flashing shots, blindly aiming under your dress for a view of what you’re wearing underneath it.

Eddie hopes to God you’ve got something on underneath it as he shouts, “Hey! Back up! Are you fucking crazy?” He grabs your wrist with one hand and shoves the pap backward with the other.

The older man stumbles back a step or two, but doesn’t get far with all the people crowded behind him. He pushes Eddie back with a hairy hand, seemingly on instinct. Eddie doesn’t realize his fist is throwing a punch until he feels the impact of the man’s jaw on his knuckles.

His eyes widen in shock of himself as the crowd roars — in gasps and shouts and calls of praise. You cover your agape mouth with one hand when the paparazzo stumbles over himself and onto the ground. The mob parts to let him fall. No one helps him back up again.

Eddie feels a sharp and tingling ache rushing through his fingers as he tugs you through the horde and towards the tour bus. This time, you let him.

“Hope you guys liked the show!” he shouts, waving his ringed hand and effectively flashing his bruising knuckles. The fans erupt in a symphony of screams that you can hear long after the door to the bus has shut behind you.

An hour or more later, the story has made its way to damn near every news channel. ‘Eddie Munson Will Rock You,’ the headline reads over a picture of the rockstar mid-punch.

The newscast plays the video on repeat in a number of different angles. The four of you, still dressed in your concert outfits, gather around the small square television to watch.

“Well…” Jeff sighs to break the silence. “That was quick.”

Gareth pouts from the mini dining table. “I can’t believe I missed it…”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and slumps beside you on the couch. “At least now everyone’s talking about this shit and not those pictures that asshole took of you.”

“You say that like you did it on purpose,” you quip with a playful glint in your narrowed eyes.

“I did, actually,” Eddie shrugs, obviously sarcastic. “‘Cause I’m a genius. Always thinking two steps ahead, sweetheart.”

“You’re an idiot,” you smile, rolling your eyes as you lean over to brush a kiss to his burning cheek. You linger against him and whisper in his ear, “Meet me in the bunks in five minutes.”

You rise from the plush sofa and saunter towards the back of the bus — dress swishing at your hips, fur coat bouncing around your arms. You catch Eddie’s heavy gaze over your shoulder and flash him a wink before sliding the door shut behind you.

Eddie’s glad those photos of you haven’t gotten out, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take a couple polaroids of his own.

#eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things hurt/comfort #st eddie munson #stranger things

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imfinereallyy · 1 year ago

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you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.

#do I love angst? yes. but also need to be happy in my delulu world for five seconds #sometimes you need domestic fluff to soothe the burn #fan fiction #ao3 #hurt/comfort #steddie #stranger things #lumax #byler #ronance #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #archive of our own #wattpad #robin buckley #steve x eddie #happy endings

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mothofmyth · 3 months ago

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Wayne Munson living on the breadline. Wayne Munson who can't afford rent on his home AND a kid, so he moves to the trailer park and gives Eddie the bedroom. Wayne Munson picking up every shift he can to put food in his kid's belly and a roof over his kid's head. Wayne Munson who's back hurts from sleeping on the couch and doing manual labour for 12 hours a day. Wayne Munson who wouldn't change a thing, even when Eddie doesn't graduate, and then doesn't graduate again. Wayne Munson who became a very rich man after Eddie died. Wayne Munson who still sleeps on the couch in a run down trailer, while the bed lies cold and empty.

Wayne Munson who swore he would give the rest of his life to his kid the day he became his. Wayne Munson who didn't go back on that promise even after his kid died. Wayne Munson who has a bed ready and waiting when his kid comes back from the dead. Wayne Munson who readily accepts any and all changes his kid came back with. Wayne Munson who cries and holds his kid tighter than anything when he returns. Wayne Munson who quits his job on the spot to cook a warm meal for his kid and his new boyfriend when he hesitantly introduces them to each other.

Wayne Munson who lives a long and happy life, and finally passes away surrounded by family. Wayne Munson who gets the happily ever after and the ending he deserves.

#stranger things #eddie munson #wayne munson #hurt/comfort #character death #temporary character death #stranger things 4 spoilers #stranger things spoilers #background steddie #steddie #fanfiction

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runraerun · 3 months ago

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Steddie Amnesia Fic: 1/3

-> Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: lots of head trauma/brain injury/recovery stuff.

Steve wakes up in the hospital with someone snoring loudly on his leg, mouth open, drool getting soaked up into the scratchy hospital blanket over him.

Steve just stares.

It’s… Freddie? No, that’s not right... Eddie! Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, known delinquent and drug dealer… resting his head on Steve’s lap.

What the hell…?

Steve reaches up with a wobbly, IV-ridden hand to clumsily pat along his head, but instead of meeting messy hair, he meets a thick wad of bandages. He flinches when he hits an especially tender spot.

It’s not much but it’s enough to wake Eddie Munson up with a jolt, and a random jumble of words that sounded something like, “the dice have spoken!”, but Steve can’t be sure. Not with the sharp ringing still going off inside his skull.

“Steve? Steve! Oh thank fuck, Jesus H. Christ, you scared the ever loving shit out of me.” Eddie stood and grabbed at one of Steve’s shoulders, shaking him enough to elicit another wince.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I’m like a fucking bull in a china shop here, man. There’s way too much expensive, breakable shit here. I’m not used to it. I accidentally ripped your IV out the other day... Fuck. The nurses hate my guts.” Eddie chuckles, eyes wide and solely on Steve, talking like they were old friends or something.

But that can’t be right. Steve doesn’t remember saying more than two words to Eddie Munson during the entire time he knew he even existed, and even then it was just to discuss weed prices.

“For real though, talk to me Harrington, how you feelin’, hm? Loopy? Gonna yak again? Apparently they got you on the good stuff,” Eddie flicks a liquid filled bag hanging above Steve and shakes his head, “but they keep cutting you back. Dicks.”

Steve’s eyes try and follow Eddie’s erratic movements but his eyes ache the more he moves them. He blinks against the harsh fluorescents and tries to open his mouth. And thank God, Eddie Munson seems to take this as a sign and shut up.

“What happened?” Steve finally croaks.

One of Eddie’s brows jumps. “You don’t remember?”

Steve gives his head a small shake. Did Eddie hit him with his car or something? Is that why he’s sleeping at his bedside and talking to him like they’re buddies?

“You fell, Stevie.” Eddie makes a whistling noise and mimicks something falling with his hands, then makes a crashing sound when his hand lands on Steve’s bandaged head. “Like a coconut out of a tree. Landed right on that big ol’ melon of yours. There was blood everywhere. It scared the shit out of me and the kids. Especially when you wouldn’t wake up.”

Steve’s throat feels like sandpaper, but he manages to swallow, his throat clicking as he did, and gets out, “The kids?”

Eddie seems to notice, even before Steve can ask, and reaches for a water bottle with a straw already in it, and half chewed. Eddie’s own, no doubt. Against his better judgment, Steve accepts it when Eddie offers it to him. He was just so goddamn thirsty.

“Don’t worry, they’re all fine. They were just shaken up. I’ll radio the little gremlins and give ‘em the good news in a sec.” Eddie’s smile falters a little, seeming lost for words. Like he wants to say something, but can’t quite get it out.

Steve finishes swallowing his few, meager gulps of water before he asks, “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out—“ Eddie begins.

And, okay, that’s exactly the thing you tell someone before they freak the fuck out. Steve’s stomach is subject to a growing, sluggish panic. “What? Dude, tell me—“

“It’s your hair.” Eddie seems genuinely pained at having to deliver this crushing of a blow to Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

Steve can hear the beeping from the monitors he’s hooked up to begin to pick up speed as his heart begins racing. “My hair?”

“It’s okay! It’s okay, it’ll grow back! They just had to take a little bit off where the stitches went, you can hardest notice it—well, that’s a fucking lie, you could spot that landing strip from space—but I think if you part it to the other side it won’t look so… y’know.”

“No, dude, I don’t know.” Steve says, eyes wide, brows pinched.

“Like a drunk toddler took a pair of rusty kitchen shears to your mop.” Eddie says, huffing out a nervous sort of laugh.

Steve groans, half due to the bastardization that’s happened to his favorite feature, and half due to the migraine that’s looming on his horizon.

“You’re still pretty, Stevie, don’t worry.” Eddie grins, eyebrows raised, like he’s trying to be cute or something.

That weirdest part is, it’s kind of working.

Steve must have hit his head really, really hard.

The doctors eventually come in and perform all sorts of tests, and he tries his best to comply with them and jump through whatever hoops they make him jump through. He just wants to get the hell out of this hospital bed.

Unfortunately for him, Steve hadn’t exactly aced any of the tests.

In fact, he had failed most of them pretty fucking dismally. He couldn’t remember the date, who the president was, where he lived, couldn’t say the alphabet backwards… although, who the fuck can do that? He stands by that failing grade.

A couple of CAT scans later and it’s clear that Steve’s brain got smacked around a little more than they had originally thought.

Among a pile of other stuff, the thing that sticks out the most to Steve is his diagnosis of something called short term amnesia. They explain it like the past 2 to 3 years has just been wiped from his brain. The last clear thing he really remembers is getting the shit beat out of him by Billy, and then it all sort of gets jumbled. Fragmented. The doctors explain that this is pretty typical for head trauma patients.

He’s a head trauma patient, now.

It’s normal for memories of trauma to link, creating spiderwebs throughout your brain.

Which, that’s great. So when he gets beat up again, there’s always a chance his brain will try and erase his easy, happy years and revert back to a trauma default. Really helpful brain, thank you.

And the thing that sucks the most is that his years after the Billy beat down sound pretty great. Traumatizing, sure, but great. Once the Upside Down shit was locked up, with every scary nightmare fuel monster inside of it, life in Hawkins didn’t sound all that terrible.

He lived with Robin, who’s his best friend, (his ‘platonic soulmate’ even, as she explains it), he’s working a retail job, (also with Robin), and coaches the high school basketball team during the evenings. He’d even been talking with Hopper about joining the force.

Well, he was. Now he’s more or less useless, working full time at re-learning his life, along with a couple of fine motor skills that got glitchy after the fall.

And then there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who’s apparently also his best friend, only their soulmate link isn’t platonic at all.

The strange and weirdly exciting reality was that Steve Harrington had woken up from his 3-day medically induced coma with not only a full fledged relationship, but a boyfriend.

It’s a lot to digest, and part of him still doesn’t even know how to process it, but hearing the stories being told around him, seeing how Eddie is practically living in his and Robin’s two-bedroom apartment, and just… the way Eddie looks at him?

It’s with love—Steve can see it. Feel it. Eddie’s practically vibrating with it.

What’s even crazier is that when Steve looks at Eddie, he feels the exact same way.

It’s like looking at the stars. Steve’s heart skips a beat when those dark eyes of hit him, and Steve wants nothing more than to make Eddie smile—no, better than that, to make him laugh, just so he can watch Eddie’s adam’s apple bob up and down and hear that manic, unhinged cackle. It’s downright delightful. Steve loves being in relationships like this, where it’s all consuming.

Steve may not have the memories of falling in love with Eddie, but he has all the feelings.

No one talks about it with Steve, of course. Maybe they think it’s going to be too heavy for him to process that he’s into dudes now, but Steve isn’t a big dumb baby. Sure, he’s got a pretty severe brain injury, and yeah, alright, it takes him a minute to remember people’s names sometimes, and he has a harder time controlling his emotions, but he isn’t a complete invalid. Only a little bit of one. He’s working on it, dammit.

And Eddie is so painfully, frustratingly patient with him. He never pushes. He’s clearly letting Steve retrieve his memories before he makes a move, because despite his whole outward appearance, Eddie Munson is a goddamn gentleman. He never so much as reaches for Steve’s hands, but Steve can tell by the way their pinkies graze when they watch movies late at night that he wants to.

Steve can tell by the way Eddie teases him, the way he’s there with him through his recovery, that he doesn’t ever make Steve feel stupid when he asks the same questions over and over again, when he cries at the drop of a hat or when he gets sort of confused about the lay out of his apartment—he doesn’t care about that of that.

Because he’s in love with Steve. It’s so painfully romantic, it brings a painful lump to Steve’s throat every time he thinks too much about it.

The two of them are driving to one of Steve’s therapy sessions, Eddie in the driver's seat, Steve in the passengers, listening to a low racket of some kind of heavy metal music. Eddie always keeps the volume low now, for Steve.

He’s just been so intensely good about everything that Steve needs to try and do something good for Eddie in return. He needs Eddie to know that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel that they’re both currently lost in.

“I’m sorry about this, y’know.” Steve says when they finally pull up the building that has ‘Brain Injury Recover Center’ written on the front. So all the boys and girls with scrambled eggs for brains know where to converge.

“Don’t worry about it, man. I work the evening shifts, remember? My days are free.” Eddie explains, and Steve wonders if he’s had to be told this bit of information a couple of times now. Sometimes it takes a few times before something sticks to his brain now. His short term memory is still majorly flighty. But no, Steve remembers that Eddie bartends at a local bowling alley most evenings. He’s gone a few times. Not to bowl, of course—too much hand eye coordination involved—but just to hang out with Eddie. He’s pretty decent at Ms. Pac-Man though.

Steve shakes his head. He knows his mind must have wandered because there’s been a lull where no one’s spoken. Eddie never seems to care about that though. “I don’t mean about the drive. I was talking about… y’know.”

“Wha’dy’mean?” Eddie mumbles as he backs into his parking space, hand on the back of Steve’s headrest.

Steve sighs and decides to just come out and say it: “I mean having your boyfriend forget everything about you and your relationship. I just… that must be really tough.”

Everything in Eddie Munson comes to a jarring halt, hand frozen over where he’s turned to ignition off.

It’s sort of unnerving—Eddie is always moving, fidgeting. Damn near bouncing off the walls. But now it’s like someone hit the poor guy with a freeze ray gun.

Steve chuckles softly as he reaches out and touches Eddie’s arm, giving him a playful jostle, to loosen him up a little, “it’s okay, Eddie. I know. You don’t have to keep going easy on me. I’m gay! Or, bi-sexual. Whatever.” Steve shrugs, “see? Not falling apart. I can handle being in love with another dude. You don’t need to keep babying me.”

The side of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a downturned smile that he seems to be trying to hide.

“I know, I know. Not just any dude.” Steve rolls his eyes, a smile still firmly on his face. He takes Eddie’s hand from the steering wheel, and Eddie seems to watch it go in a detached sort of awe. Steve wonders if Eddie’s proud of him for being so cool with it all. “In love with you.”

“Steve, I don’t think—

“Wait, just let me finish.” Steve asks, and Eddie blinks and works on closing his mouth. Knows it’s important to let Steve get his thoughts out quickly, lest they be lost to the giant black hole inside of his beat-up brain now. “I know that I don’t remember any of the important stuff with us. Our first date, or our first kiss or, y’know, any of our other first firsts. So maybe it feels like you’re cheating on the old Steve with me? But… Eddie, I know it’s crazy but even though my brain forgot all of the specifics; my heart didn’t. I look at you, and it’s all there. I’m still so into you, dude. I can feel it, even though I don’t remember how I got here. I’m in l—“

“Steve! Stevestevesteve wait, holy shit—!” Eddie’s eyes snap up from his intense stare at the place where their hands are linked. “Steve—”

“Yeah?” Steve prompts when Eddie doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. He runs his thumb gently over Eddie’s knuckles. It feels so nice to finally be able to hold his hand again. They fit together so well, and Steve wonders briefly if it’s some kind of muscle memory.

Eddie opens his mouth a few more times before he remembers how to make the words come out.

“Steve. Buddy. We’re… we’re not dating.”

Steve’s face falls, and he can feel a lump form in his throat, but he keeps a firm hold of Eddie’s warm hand in his own. “Yeah, I know, I know. We haven’t had any time to be a couple. And it’s probably been torture for you, man. You’re so busy taking care of me and making sure I don’t freak out over everything that you’ve clearly been neglecting your own hierarchy of needs.”

Eddie raises a brow.

Steve chuckles, “Shut up. It’s a therapy term.”

Eddie laughs in his throat. “Steve, you gotta slow down and listen to me.”

He turns his shoulders so that he’s fully facing Steve while he reaches his free hand over and tugs at one of his earlobes. “Got your hearing ears on?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he nods just the same.

“We… we weren’t dating before your accident,” Eddie speaks slowly, his voice warm, gentle. “Hell, I didn’t even know you were, y’know, into dudes like that. Much less me.”

Something throbs dully behind Steve’s eyes. It’s the start of a migraine—the one that makes it hard to process much of anything. Steve squints, trying to make sense of what Eddie’s saying. “…you’re not my boyfriend?”

Eddie shakes his head very, very slowly. “No.”

Steve snatches his hand back like he’s only just now noticed how burning hot Eddie’s hand is.

He settles back in his seat, staring out the front window. The sounds from the outside world are muffled, and everything feels far away and sort of… Made up. Just like everything he’d imagined was going on between him and Eddie. Not real.

He feels painfully detached from reality. Unmoored. Maybe this was the disassociation thing the doctor mentioned might happen…

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, risking another glance over to Eddie, who hasn’t taken his eyes off him for a second.

“Pretty fuckin’ sure.” Eddie snorts.

“Oh, God. This is… I’m—sorry. I’m so stupid. Fuck, I gotta—“ Steve suddenly attacks the door handle with a clumsy fury that has his hand fumbling with the handle for way too long. Fucking busted up, bruised as fuck fucking brain-!

“Steve, it’s okay, dude,” Eddie says from behind Steve, but that’s easy for him to say; he didn’t just humiliate himself in front of his not-boyfriend, definitely-crush, possibly ex-friend—“Steve, wait!”

Steve flees the van on unsteady feet, not daring to look back.

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sweetbabygirlsworld · 2 years ago

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"Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who saw the weight, saw the string that wound tight to him and his friends, saw when the mask started to crack and needed to be whisked away from prying eyes, and didn’t ask to know anymore than that."

"I've got you, and you've got me"

This is literally so so powerful and beautiful, the hurt and the comfort makes me want to gush my eyes out, oh my God, it's truly a masterpiece I'm so grateful I found this.

there are bones in my closet - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖ summary: You can't control what your scars have done to you, but you can control what you're going to do about it and who you're going to trust with them.

‖ tags: hurt/comfort, post season 4 volume 2. contains content referring to anxiety, depression, ptsd, unresolved trauma, and their symptoms. you comforting Steve and Steve comforting you. written all in one sitting and unedited, so sorry if there are mistakes. i'll go back and fix them at some point.

‖ word count: 3.8k

You both had scars; seen and unseen.

Some of his were physical. Puckered pink and tight scar tissue on either side of his torso, a smaller section on one shoulder. A straight, light line of discoloration across his throat. The special glasses he had to wear and the pills he had to take to keep the migraines at bay.

The rest were less obvious. A tensing of his shoulders whenever something flew by him and he wasn’t expecting it, even if it was as small as a bee. White knuckle grips, and sometimes a full body flinch, at the crack of thunder or flash of lightning. An uneasy feeling that led to irritability when he had to go outside while it was foggy. Wide, panicked eyes when he woke up in the middle of the night with a scream in his throat. His protective nature morphed, shifted, grew into something that could sometimes feel stifling. The anxiety that accompanied the fear behind the protection.

When you first got closer to Steve Harrington, it was easy for you to tell he had ghosts following him wherever he went. You knew because you had them too.

A tendency to jump or freeze at a loud noise or when someone raised their voice. Hints of subtle pain hiding behind your eyes around the holidays, your birthday, when people talked about their family and you forced a smile. How you could go from the life of the party, talking and laughing and helping everyone, and start to go quiet so quickly, sometimes entirely without warning. The way it wasn’t unusual for you to disappear for days at a time, no one knowing you were simply buried in your covers and unable to emerge. And sometimes, even when you were right next to him, right next to anyone, you would still feel so far away.

Steve was haunted by things that had long since died and you were too.

The first time you saw the signs in him was early April 1986.

You’d barely known him then. Both of you had known of each other in school but that was pretty much it – orbited different planets in the same solar system. When you met him again, or for the first time really, at the donation drive at the high school, he wasn’t at all what you remembered. King Steve was wearing a little name tag and folding shirts, pants, towels, and anything else set before him and then organizing it into piles just like one of your colleagues had asked him to.

Although pretty busy trying to wrangle a few other volunteers who seemed to have bitten off more than they could chew when it came to washing the bedding on the cots lining the gym, you couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him. How he had a heated but whispered argument with Robin Buckley from a year behind you, and then smiled like a proud father as she made peanut butter sandwiches. Then turned into an absolute mother hen when a curly haired brunette walked by him with a limp, leaving his station to usher him over to a set of chairs and gave him what looked like a finger wag before ruffling the boy's curls. He only went back to folding when an older man you recognized as one of the people staying here came and sat down next to the boy, waving Steve off with a shaky hand.

A few other preteens came by and talked to him, the only one you recognized being Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother Mike. He spoke with all of them with what could only be described as fond annoyance – like how you would talk to a younger sibling or a best friend. It intrigued you, for lack of a better word. An earthquake had shattered Hawkins and here was Steve Harrington: folding an endless number of fabrics that just kept growing, greeting anyone who tried to talk to him with a charming smile, and looking out for a select group of what appeared to be his friends.

After a particularly long conversation with two local moms, you noticed it. The smile was more forced, his responses less enthusiastic, shoulders rolling forward and eyes closing with a deep breath when he thought no one was looking at him.

He looked exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix.

When another local came and chatted him up, carrying most of the conversation as Steve replied politely, and then clapped him on the back – he choked. A tightening of his chest, his neck, his eyes squeezing shut as he let out a few coughs. The man looked worried, asking him if he was okay, if he had hurt him. Then brown eyes blinked open wide again and flickered around wildly. His shoulders started to fall and rise faster, a flush creeping up his neck.

Your bleeding heart cracked a bit more as you stepped in between the man and him.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” you glanced back at the man, who gave a hesitant shrug before making an escape, and you returned to the wild eyes of Steve. “Volunteer coordinator here, do you think you could come help me with something?”

There was water collecting in the corners of his eyes as they glanced from you to the room like he was looking for a way to escape. His voice was slightly hoarse when he tried to respond, “I… I, uh-”

Lightly pressing the tips of your fingers to the clenched fist of his hand, you lowered your voice as quietly as you could. “Just come with me.”

His eyes squeezed shut, a single errant tear sliding down his pink cheek, then he gave a stunted nod.

You could feel eyes on your back as you walked with him off of the floor and into the swinging door of the kitchen.

Struggling with the weight, you pulled open the heavy metal door to the walk in fridge and motioned him inside. He didn’t question it as he stepped in and you followed behind him.

The space was small but not claustrophobic, large wire shelves on either side as the heavy door softly closed behind you. Eyes searching, you landed on a long plank of what looked like frozen pork ribs. “Hold this please,” was the only thing you said as you thrust it into his hands. His eyebrows were drawn together in confusion but he took the slab, the ice cold object ending up nestled into his chest. Perfect. “Thanks, now just wait here a minute,” you inched past him, both of you having to rotate in order for you to get past without touching each other, “I have to grab one more thing.”

You didn’t. You didn’t need the ribs either. But you opened up the faded white ice chest in the back of the walk in and started digging through it looking for nothing. Your companion didn’t say a word but in the enclosed space, you could tell the cold was doing its job as his breathing started to slow down. After pretending to dig for another few minutes, you stood up straight again and let the lid fall closed before hopping up to sit on top of it.

Steve was standing there dutifully and holding the frozen meat close to him just as you’d asked. The flush rising up from his chest had been replaced with pink nose and cheeks from the cold, dry air, and his chest rose and fell at a more reasonable rate. The panic in his eyes had abated and the tears blinked away as his head slightly swiveled to look around the metal container your both were in.

“You can put the meat down now if you want.”

He startled a bit, gaze returning to you having not realized you were sitting there watching him. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t actually need your help,” you offered plainly, motioning to the pork he was basically hugging. “The cold helps the panic go away.”

His head drops to look over the plastic bundle in his arms. “The…? No, I wasn’t-”

“It’s okay, Steve. You don’t have to explain.”

A few moments passed as Steve’s grip on the meat shifted before he set it back on the shelf you had taken it from. Now free, his arms crossed over his chest and he shifted on his feet slightly. You took your own few moments to slow down, to breathe. To let the cold air recover you as much as it could before you had to go back out there.

Go back to grieving widows and broken families and people suddenly without homes or possessions. People crying, screaming, trying to make sense of something senseless. Some looking out for ways to help, some desperately seeking help no one could reasonably provide. You would keep going until your heart bled dry and then just a little farther, just to go back to your empty apartment and do it again the next day.

But it was what you could do. It was something you could do. A way you could help.

Rescuing Steve Harrington from having a panic attack in a crowded school gym was a way you could help even when you felt like you were falling apart at the seams.

His voice is gentle when he asks, “how did you know…?”

That he was panicking? That the cold would help? That he needed help?

“Guess when you know what it feels like, you know what it looks like.”

He seems to quietly consider your answer as he quietly considers you. Eyes searching, posture guarded, energy unsettled. You want to show a kind smile, open palms, telling him sweet words that will settle him, do the job that you’re supposed to be doing here.

But you’re so exhausted. The kind of tired sleeping can’t fix. And you just need a few more minutes before you put the act back on.

Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to have found it, because his arms fell from his chest, one lowering to rest on his hip as he leaned the opposite shoulder against the shelf beside him.

“Do you, uh, have any other tips and tricks?” He hesitantly asks, his gaze locked on your dirty sneakers.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

The first time he saw yours was early June 1986.

The two of you had spent a steadily increasing amount of time together as he continued to volunteer to help at the makeshift shelter and you continued coordinating. When it was possible, the two of you would end up on a station together and you’d get a few more clues into what exactly were the skeletons in Steve’s closet. Hushed conversations about a friend in the hospital, about a friend they’d lost, about one they’d gotten back. Stories like you heard every single time you worked, but these felt different. The more you watched, the more you saw the string that tied all of them together. How it wasn’t just Steve looking out for his people, but them looking out for him and each other too.

A group of people that made no sense to be together but bonded in a way that couldn’t have happened peacefully.

Sometimes he would be talking to one of them – one of the preteens, or Robin, or Nancy Wheeler, or Jonathan Byers, or Joyce Byers, or the newly revived Sheriff Hopper – and would nervously glance your way like they didn’t want you to hear. You pretended not to.

If you could have stopped listening, you would have. But you heard and processed everything around you whether you wanted to or not.

Regardless of some of the strange things that floated into your ears, you never said a word about it. Never talked about the scar on his neck, or the scars on his sides you had gotten peeks at when he reached for something up high. Never asked why sometimes his whole body would start to react as if he was in a life or death situation, never questioned what triggered those moments. Never mentioned that when you weren’t working together, you could feel his eyes on you like a hawk, like you were one of the people he looked out for now too.

Never admitted how terrified that made you.

In return, he never asked why you would suddenly disappear for an hour and re-emerge with frozen fingers. Never pressed when you told him you were fine even though you couldn’t say it convincingly. Never forced you to talk when you fell silent or made you feel like you had to act a certain way or fulfill a certain need for him.

He just needed someone. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who saw the weight, saw the string that wound tight to him and his friends, saw when the mask started to crack and needed to be whisked away from prying eyes, and didn’t ask to know anymore than that.

You needed someone too. Someone who knew, but didn’t know. Who could see past the performance, see when the shadows drew in tighter and started to choke you, see that you were trying so fucking hard all the time. You needed someone who would understand that you were going to fight tooth and nail against the idea of needing someone – a trapped animal lashing out at anyone who tried to get close because they didn’t know if they were going to set it free or make the killing blow.

You didn’t know Steve could be that person until he proved it.

The day had started off shit. You’d woken up in a haze and debated if this was one of the days that would make you bury your head in the sand and wait for the storm to pass. Your first mistake was deciding to get up and go back to work anyway.

Your second mistake was putting Butter Handy Andy on dish washing duty.

You’d been talking to Vickie McAdams about the supplies you all had available for making dinner tonight when a huge crash came from inside the kitchen. Completely unprepared for a sudden noise that loud, you couldn’t hold in the yelp, couldn’t mask the way your entire body tensed, couldn’t help the way you immediately stopped in the middle of your sentence. Frozen, heart stuttering an uneven rhythm in your chest, the contents of your stomach kicking up, and people were staring. People were staring. Everyone was looking at you and thinking there was something wrong with you and you’re weak and broken.

Sweet, sweet Vickie, with a concerned furrow to her brow and a calm smile, asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

It took 75% of what you had left to put the act back on.

“Yup, just spooked me a little.” You laughed and then she laughed and then it felt like you had saved it, fooled them, protected yourself. It felt like the eyes were off of you.

Well, all except 2.

Your third mistake was stepping in between two men who had started an argument by the missing persons board.

Already running on fumes, you really should’ve thrown in the towel an hour ago. But giving up wasn’t a skill of yours and all that awaited you at home was silence and skeletons, so you kept the engine running. The disagreement had started quietly but quickly escalated into a screaming match in front of everyone in the room. Having forgotten yourself, gotten lost in the role you were playing as a coordinator and a leader, you’d immediately approached and tried to talk them down. Neither paid any attention to you and more people were starting to gather, either to watch or concerned they needed to do something. A baby nearby started to wail and the murmur of the gathering people grew and all the noise continued to grow into a tidal wave that rushed in your ears.

One of the men raised a fist like he was going to throw a punch. You rocketed forward, putting yourself between them with your hands out to try to stop him. And you did – the forward motion of his fist stopped. But then his other hand fisted in the fabric of your shirt near the collar and he tossed you away like you were nothing. You stumbled and then fell, gasping out in pain and shock as your tailbone made contact with the shiny, wooden floor.

The crowd descended then; pulling the two men apart before either of them could come to harm. People rushed for you, throwing out questions of ‘are you hurt?’, ‘what were you thinking?’, ‘are you okay?’ as hands you didn’t know forced you back to your feet. There were so many eyes and so many questions and so many hands and everyone was so close and everything was so loud and you couldn’t see and you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t move and you couldn’t talk.

You ran.

Pushed your way through the small circle of near strangers that had formed around you and settled into a run toward the swinging kitchen door. Through the door, past where Andy was still dropping pots and pans into soapy water without a care in the world, past the walk in fridge, and out the back doors. The sun was setting but the air was still hot and humid and choking you as you kept fucking running. You didn’t know if anyone followed you, you didn’t even try to look, you just listened to the frantic beat of your heart that told you to keep going or else it would be the end of you.

Your feet carried you to a familiar place that you hadn’t seen in a few years. You ran out of breath and had to stop just as you reached the bleachers along the mile track behind the school. They were coated in shades of orange, making the dusty track beyond them look even older as the sun carried down toward the horizon.

Despite your lungs and legs not being able to run any further, you were still thrumming with adrenaline, muscles tensed, chest tight, heart and mind racing out of control. You couldn’t focus on anything, couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get back in control.

A hand lightly tapped your shoulder and you swung.

Steve Harrington dodged your fist like a man who had taken more than his fair share of punches.

“Woah, hey, just me,” he offered calmly, hands coming up in a surrender gesture. The wire rim glasses were a recent addition, only a month or so old. You’d overheard one of his friends joke that make maybe if he had taken one less knock to the noggin he wouldn’t need them. Hurt eyes or not, they flickered over you, caught sight of the heaving of your chest, the blood shot eyes, how you panted out between your teeth and arched your back like a cornered animal.

You certainly sounded a bit like one as you barked, “What the fuck do you want, Steve?”

He instinctively stepped back at the venom in your tone, eyes widening slightly in surprise. His mouth opened, closed, opened and said nothing. The fear in his eyes quickly abated and then his expression fell. Not into one of pity or worry, like you normally expected. No, Steve looked at you like someone who knew, but didn’t know. Someone who understood. And it broke you.

Denim covered knees hit dust as you fell on them hard enough to hurt. You didn’t feel it, the physical pain, too distracted by the agony of your bleeding heart cracking your chest wide open. A sob tore from your throat as you buried your face into your sweaty hands and shook with the force of your tears. Gasping in a few sharp gulps of air as the cries continued to force themselves out of your mouth.

Firm, warm arms circled your shoulders and forced you off your knees and onto your ass and thigh, legs off to one side as your upper body made contact with a solid chest. His grip around you was tight, almost bone crushing, and despite the way you thought it would trigger you more, it was grounding. Something solid, something real, something physical while everything else felt like sand running right through your fingers. Despite the unexpected comfort offered, your sobs continued.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into your hair, barely audible due to your crying. “You’re safe.”

The word ‘safe’ made your bleeding heart shatter into pieces, another sharp wail leaving you as your nails started to dig into the skin of your face. Almost like he knew, Steve momentarily released one of his arms to force your hands away from your face and press them into his chest, encouraging your fingers to fist in his shirt instead. You obliged subconsciously, hands twisting in his loose t-shirt as you pressed your eyes into his shoulder instead. Satisfied, he returned both arms to his tight circle that held you pressed to him.

You don’t know how long you both sat there on the track behind Hawkins High School. Long enough for the automatic lights to flick on over the field and the sunset to dip into golden reds and purples as night crept closer. Long enough for your ass to fall asleep and for your crying to stop and for your breathing to return to normal and then even longer than that.

He didn’t pull away until you did, and even then it was with reluctance.

Making eye contact for the first time, you didn’t think before the words tumbled out of you. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like his shirt wasn’t damp with your tears and he hadn’t followed you out here while you ran like your life depended on it.

Wanting to argue that you had plenty to be sorry for, instead you shifted gears to the part of you that desperately wanted to give some kind of excuse or a reason to what had just occurred. “I swear, I normally don’t-”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted you with a kind smile, one hand giving your knee a soft squeeze before returning to his own lap. “You don’t have to explain.”

The shattered bits of your heart that lay in the wasteland of your chest thumped once, twice.

“Thank you,” it came out of you as barely a whisper.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, eyes warm and gentle. “I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

Thumped once, twice beneath the fear.

“I’ve got you and you’ve got me.”

thanks for reading!! if you liked it, please give it a reblog and leave a comment, as they make my day <3

#everybody has to read this #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #stranger things hurt/comfort

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eddies-ashtray · 17 days ago

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♡ meet cute.

There’s this alcove out behind the school. It’s deserted and quiet, right around the corner from the outside door to the woodshop. You can normally count on it being empty, a shaded refuge when you need a break during the school day. A secret place to slip away to when things get to be too much.

Once, Daniel Adams was there throwing wood scraps in the dumpster just before the bell signalling the end of second period. But he didn’t disturb you, just went back inside without a second glance. Other than that, it always lacked a population.

Until today.

When you round the corner, you see the trade off clear as day; a small pouch of white powder transferred from a heavily ringed hand being swapped for a thick wad of cash.

The guy receiving the pouch slips it into his jeans pocket before he sees you. Then his green eyes make contact with yours and he books it back down the alley before crashing through the door to the shop. Subtle.

The guy with the cash is left there alone, but seemingly unperturbed by his customers sudden exit. You imagine you might run away too, if you were buying ketamine right behind your school at 11am on a Tuesday.

You recognize him before his curly head whips around to locate the source of alarm. What other guy at Hawkins High has chipped black nail polish and avoids barbershops? More importantly, who else sells drugs at your school? Eddie’s got that job dominated.

“Shit.” Is all he says when he spots you there. His tone is flat, deadpan.

You ignore him in favour of sitting cross-legged on the pavement, gravel crunching beneath your soles before you press your back against cold brick.

You just want him to go away. To be alone.

Staring down at your scuffed Chucks, you begin to pull at a loose thread at the bottom of your frayed pant leg, winding it around the tip of your index finger until it turns white, then unwinding it so the blood comes rushing back with warmth.

When you hear his heavy footfalls, you think maybe your luck hasn’t run out and he might be leaving. But the crunching of gravel does not recede down the alleyway.

Black Doc Martens enter your vision. You stop pulling at the loose thread and stare at the boots for a second before your gaze meanders up to his face.

“Please don’t tell anyone, alright?” Eddie’s tone is non-threatening and hopeful.

“Wasn’t gonna.” You shrug, couldn’t care less about the drug habits of the people you go to school with. Or how they acquire said drugs. Who would you tell anyway? The cops? Fuck that.

Despite the confirmation of your silence Eddie stays put, feet shuffling across gravel, rocks scraping beneath the thick soles.

You avert your gaze, will your voice not to break when you say, “Will you please just go?” But it betrays you, cracking just slightly on the final syllable. As your teeth dig into your bottom lip, you hope he doesn’t notice.

Eyes burning and staring intently at a triangle-shaped pebble, you hold your breath, think, don’t say it, don’t say it, please don’t say it.

“Are you okay?”

Fuck.

Unwillingly, your face crumples and you bury it in your hands, face warming from being watched as you break down. Tears stream down your face silently, thick and hot as they wet your palms and slide down your wrists.

There’s the crunch of gravel again, but he isn’t walking away like you expected anyone might. Who’d want to stick around with a stranger having an emotional breakdown?

But then you feel warmth at your side as he crouches down and leans against the wall beside you, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder.

Any remaining energy you had has been spent on your short exchange with him, so you have none left to plead with him anymore. But as the tears keep coming and your shoulders keep shaking, you find that you don’t mind his presence so much. He doesn’t touch you or invade your space in any way, doesn’t ask why you’re crying or try to stop it.

Eddie just sits with you. Stares out at the swaying trees in the forest beyond the school and silently sits. Even though your skin isn’t touching it’s like he’s holding your hand.

While you never bought into any of the rumours you’d heard whispered about him in the corridors, you were never completely sure of his kindness. Though now you see he wears his eccentricities as armour. It seems Eddie is softer than the tough iron of his armor would suggest.

His motives now are clear: he doesn’t want to leave you alone in the state you’re in. Which is more kindness than anyone at this school has ever shown you.

In actuality, it’s the most attention anyone at this school has ever shown you. Unlike Eddie, you’re mostly just ignored, left alone. Eddie isn’t going to let that happen now.

The pair of you are probably quite the sight. And not just because you’re openly sobbing next to him. The Freak and the Loner Girl. If you were seen together you’re sure your bored peers would have some more rumours to spread.

When your tears dry up and you’re left with a snotty nose and dry eyes, you look out at the forest in silence with him. Staring out blanky at the shedding foliage, your breathing slows and the wind whistles. The wind kissing your cheeks is strangely comforting. Or maybe it’s just Eddie.

In your periphery, you see him shift as he pulls his ringed hand out of the pocket of his jacket. Eddie–who you’ve only just noticed smells really good, like leather and fresh rain–shoves his hand beneath the leather to dig around in an inside pocket.

For one silly, brief moment you think he might be about to offer you a small pouch of white powder.

Then he pulls his hand out. It’s a tissue.

Eddie Munson is offering you a tissue.

The metalhead keeps tissues in his jacket. And drugs. But also tissues.

Looking from the tissue to him, Eddie gives you a soft reassuring smile. You take it from him gingerly. “Thank you.”

Eddie nods shortly. “Yeah.”

“You, um, you didn’t have to sit with me,” you say once you’ve wiped your nose clean, looking at him fully for the first time since you broke down. His eyes are so dark. You’ve never been close enough to notice until now.

“I know.” A beat of silence follows his sweet sincerity where all you can hear is the sound of the trees gently whooshing in the wind. “But I’ve seen you around. You’re alone a lot.”

“Oh.” He’s seen you around?

“You don’t deserve to be, by the way,” he adds quickly. “Especially not…now.”

You look away with a small smile and a soft breath through your nose. Though his delivery is a little awkward, the sentiment causes warmth to flood your chest.

“Right,” you reply, chuckling a little as you meet his eyes again. When he smiles this time, a dimple pops into his cheek. Pretty eyes and dimples?

Smacking his thighs resolutely, Eddie pushes himself up off the pavement to stand in front of you, offers you his hand. You stare up at him, your own hands twitching in your lap, buzzing with anticipation.

“C’mon,” Eddie prompts, nodding his head to the side. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere you wanna go.”

Drawing your lip into your mouth, you chew on it contemplatively.

You don’t have to think long about your answer. Why on Earth would you stay here and wallow when this sweet, kind boy with melted chocolate for eyes is offering you his hand?

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson hurt/comfort #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x fem reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson drabble

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pencil-n-pen · 17 days ago

Text

SPILL YOUR GUTS

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

practice boyfriend! eddie x fem! reader

summary: eddie’s your practice boyfriend. you’re positive he’s upset at you and you’re waiting for him to get mad. however, he has a different response in mind.

cw: references/allusions to past child abuse but extremely vague, references/allusions to bad relationships (also pretty vague), reader acts on a learned response and assumes the worst about Eddie, anxiety

tags/tropes: angst, hurt/comfort (my brand!) sappy sappy romantic idiots, they kiss and figure their mess out at the end

a/n: this came to me in a vision

summary makes this sound smutty but i promise it’s not. this accidentally became disgustingly romantic. read at your own risk :)

࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’re positive Eddie’s mad at you.

Okay. Maybe positive is a strong word. But still.

You’ve only been fake/pretend/practice dating Eddie for about two weeks now. He’s the one who approached you with the offer— when you were in the Upside Down together, you’d made an off-hand comment about how you might die without ever having a real boyfriend- not one that mattered, anyway. It’s always kind of been a sore spot for you for a good portion of your life. Growing up, you didn’t really have the best relationship with your dad (Robin likes to call that “The understatement of the year, and we almost died.”) and out of the incredibly small handful of guys you’ve gone out with, none stuck around longer than a month and all ended in such equally, specifically, and uniquely horrific ways, you finally came to the conclusion you had to be fucking something up. What are the chances of all them ended so completely horribly?

After you all had decidedly not died in the Upside Down, Eddie approached you with an offer: pretend date him. You’re popular and well known enough that it’ll help get people off his back about the whole Chrissy/murders thing —even though he’s been absolved of all charges, the people of Hawkins hold grudges— and in exchange, you get a trial run of a relationship that won’t end unless you both agree too— you get to figure out what you’re doing wrong.

You feel bad about it, because even though you spend so much time together, you feel like a nervous wreck. All. The. Time.

You’re constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop— waiting for him to tell you that you’re too weird, that you’re not considerate enough, that you’re selfish, or that you talk too much.

But he never says any of it. All he ever tells you is the good things. He tells you how sympathetic you are, how kind you are, how good you are at remembering little details that matter. He tells you that you’re a good kisser.

(Yeah. Your first kiss, even after those failed relationships, ended up being with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. You’re not quite sure you’ll ever forget how you felt when his lips —just a little cracked, but not rough— met yours; when his hair tickled your face and you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clings to all of his clothes, no matter how many times he washes them. You didn’t tell him he was your first. That’s something you decided you couldn’t bear to share.

You kind of have a feeling he knows anyway, though.)

It all sets you on edge. You’re under no reassurance that you’re perfect. You’re currently questioning if you’re tolerable, from a romantic standpoint.

You know how you are. You’re clinging and you drink up reassurance like a dying man in the desert. You linger in his casual touches like it’s the first and last time you’ll ever feel them. You know you’re a lot. You know. You know that guys in a relationship don’t want ‘a lot’, they want a pretty thing to hang off their arm and laugh at what they say.

But you just… can’t.

You tried, and you tried, and you tried. But you always ended up being too much, or it didn’t work out for some other reason. You want more. You want to feel safe, and happy, and cherished and loved and all those things that only happen in the movies.

The ironic part of all of this is that when you first started setting out terms for your arrangement, Eddie had told you flat out: “This will only work if you are completely and one-hundred percent yourself. You gotta lay it all on me, angel.”

And so you had, and now you regret it because he’s upset about something.

You’d come over to his trailer at his request to ‘hang out’ while he went over DND stuff for his next campaign. Eddie does this a lot— he calls them ‘Neutral Dates’ where you’re not really doing anything in particular- most of the time, you’re both doing seperate things, but still just being in each other’s presence.

It’s nice. The majority of your friend circle consists of everyone involved with the Upside Down and that entire mess. You two are no Steve and Robin (you’re convinced those two have the kind of bond no one can replicate or break. Like the kind of bond stray cats get and then they have to be adopted together) but it’s still nice. To just be with someone.

Even if you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

It’s not always eggshells. Sometimes, for a a few moments, you forget. You forget it’s all pretend. You forget he’s just a friend helping a friend fulfill a goal. That’s all.

You’ve almost forgotten just now, too— you’re too concerned about what you might’ve done.

He’s not acting angry, per-se, but he’s definitely upset. You tend to pick up on this kind of thing: small changes in someone’s personality or body language. Most of the time it’s not a conscious habit.

Most of the time.

Right now, he’s run his hands through his hair about a million times. It’s become a frizzy mess behind him, and when you’d made an offhand joke about it —an attempt to lighten the mood— all he’d done was scowl. Not at you, really, but the message was there. You’d snapped your jaw shut so fast you’re pretty sure he heard your teeth click.

After that he’d frustratedly made tea for the both of you, which consisted of opening the cupboards faster than he usually did, closing them slightly louder than he usually does, and drumming his fingers impatiently on the stove-top while he waited for the kettle to boil.

All of this you observed from the corner of your eye while ‘reading’ on the couch.

And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when you’d finally mustered up the courage to speak again, a little joke about a part in the book you were reading, all he’d said was a flat:

“That’s great, babe.”

You’re starting to get antsy. Nervous. Maybe you should go? Unless he gets upset at you leaving. That would be bad. But he’s clearly upset with you being here, so maybe you should go.

While you’re debating the pros and cons of leaving, you try to remain as still and silent as possible. No need to upset him anymore by moving too much or being too loud.

You flip a page in the book you’re no longer reading (he might notice you’re not paying attention to it anymore) and decide to test the waters again.

“The author just spelled restaurant wrong. That’s the third spelling mistake I’ve caught in this book.”

“Hmm.”

Okay. So that was worse. Talking to him is out of the question, then. It must be something you did, to warrant this kind of reaction.

You wrack your brain, trying to think of anything you could’ve done in recent hours to make him upset, but you can’t think of anything.

You glance slightly to the right— not far enough that he’ll see you looking at him, but far enough to get a better look at him in your peripheral. He’s glaring down at his campaign notebook. Shit, he looks so angry.

Unbidden, tears begin to well in your eyes and you try to shift, trying to angle yourself away from him enough that he can’t see the tears in your eyes.

But your hand shifts, knocking into his leg.

Fuck. “Sorry!”

You yank you arm back as if burned, jolting back on the couch so you’re in no danger of touching him. “I’m sorry!”

He sits up, immediately snapping to attention at the desperation coloring your voice. “Woah woah, hey. Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

You take a steadying breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks blankly at you. Oh shit, you’re supposed to know that you’ve done something wrong.

“I mean,” You hurry to correct, “I know I— Can you tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it?”

Understanding floods his features and you brace yourself, ready for the reprimand.

“Can I touch you?”

Now it’s your turn to stare with confusion. You nod once, briefly thinking about how weird it is to ask for permission first.

He sits up on the couch, facing you with his legs crossed, the couch springs squeaking loudly at his movement. You resist the urge to wince. He reaches out with a slow hand, taking the hand that’s still clenched, held away from him and up near your chest.

He stares down at your hand, holding it with his left hand and tracing delicate shapes on it with his right. His ringed fingers drag lines around your knuckles and veins, lingering occasionally over the odd, old scar.

“How long did you think I was upset with you?”

Your heart is racing, muscles tensed and ready to bolt. “Um. A few hours? Maybe?”

You’re hyper-aware of the grip he has on your hand, and how quickly and easy it could become crushing.

It doesn’t.

“Bug,” He says slowly after a moment. At first he used to use pet names as a joke— it was something you’d laugh at, between the two of you, since the relationship wasn’t real.

But recently, he’s been saying them with a different inflection in his tone. A little less teasing, a lot more fond.

“Have you spent the past few hours afraid that I was mad at you?”

He sounds… sad. Which is confusing. It doesn’t— he was. He was.

“But you were,” You say, suddenly unsure about anything and everything. “You were upset.”

“I was upset because I couldn’t work this part of the campaign out, and i’m dramatic. I was never mad at you, honey. I was never mad at you.”

You frown, gears turning in your head. “When I made that joke about your hair, you glared at me. And then when I tried to talk to you, you were upset. You didn’t want to talk.”

“I was jokingly glaring at you, I’m so sorry you thought I was serious. I wasn’t, I promise. I didn’t mean to be dismissive, I was really focusing on writing.”

You’re both silent for a moment. A beat too long. You want to squirm in the unwelcome space the silence has created.

“What did you think I was going to do?”

That is a loaded question.

“I don’t know,” You pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I don’t— I don’t know. That’s the problem. You don’t yell at me, or get angry, or tell me when i’ve made you upset. I don’t know what you’ll do.”

He makes a wounded noise in his throat.

“I know you get angry,” You bulldoze on, “I’ve seen it. You’re so… loud, in everything you do. I know you get angry. But you never get that same kind of loud angry at me and I don’t know what to do because that means that I upset you and you don’t tell me about it and then I don’t know how to fix it. I have to fix it, Eddie.”

His eyes, deep and brown, search your face. He reaches up a hand, painfully slow, to cup your face. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you tip your head to the side, leaning into the job.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Bug. Are you listening?” He waits for you to hum in confirmation before continuing. “You’re not responsible for my moods. Or anyone else’s for that matter. That’s not your job. You don’t have to fix it.”

He reaches his second hand up to cup the other side of your face. “You know why I don’t get angry at you? Not all loud and dramatic like that? Because I’ve seen how you react when people do. And I never, ever want to be the reason you get that look in your eye. I never want to make you afraid. I never want you to believe, with proof and confidence, that I’ve grown sick of you.”

You open your eyes, eyes darting across the planes of his face. Searching for even the smallest hint, the smallest giveaway that he might be lying.

You can’t find any. In its place, you find eyes, shining with pure determination. You find lips parted ever so slightly, a sad-sort of smile being etched into being. You find two hands on your face, thumbs delicately sweeping across the skin of your under-eye, of your cheekbone. Smoothing away the steady tears that had begun falling, wiping away the hot trails they leave on your face.

And you realize all at once that love isn’t like the movies. It isn’t picture-perfect kisses. It isn’t ball gowns and dresses and kisses in the rain. It isn’t like the love you thought you were supposed to have: empty and hollow; a life of hanging off of arms and praying your next slip-up didn’t cost you your relationship.

It was this.

It was just being. Just being and knowing the other person is there for just that— for you. It was not raising your voice. It was carrying extra hair-ties. It was making two cups of coffee. It was steeping tea for an extra couple of minutes, just the way he liked it. It was playing your favorite music in the car, and looking over at each other during the bridge, belting the lyrics with the same, toothy-smile. So full and so happy you just keep screaming the lyrics, because you’re filled with so much you don’t know where to put it all.

Your tears begin to fall in earnest now. Your heart is thudding in your chest, but for a different reason now. You’re struck with the need to convey all of this to him— to tell him you understand, you know, you feel the same.

“These hair ties,” You shove your wrist up to his eye-line. “They’re for you. Because you always forget your own. And— and I steep the tea for a few extra minutes, because you like your tea strong, and you didn’t just find that tape in your van, I bought it ‘cause I know you lost the old one in the Upside Down, ‘cause it felt out of your pocket.”

You’re babbling, nearly choking on your tears and your words, rushing them all out of your mouth in an aching wish to be understood, in this very moment.

“I know,” He says, voice a little hysteric and eyes a little too bright. His lip wobbles. He presses your face tighter in his hands. “I know. I know. I see you. I see you.”

You stay like that for a little while. At some point, your hands find his wrists, and then you’re just two fools, smiling like idiots with tears streaming down your faces, staring into each others eyes.

Eventually, Eddie clears his throat. “The next time you think I’m upset at you, you tell me, okay? You can ask. You can ask me and I pinky promise I won’t get mad.”

You giggle wetly. “Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear,” He says, taking his left hand away from your face to hold up his pinky. You intertwine yours and his together, the both of you laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

He gets quiet for a moment; removes his hands from your face and instead clasps, your hands together, resting in your lap.

“You know why I never tell you when you’re being a bad practice girlfriend?” He says, his voice low and soft.

“How come?”

He smiles, full and good. “Because you’re not. You’re so sweet and kind and loving. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

You furrow your brows. “The real kind? The I-love-you kind?”

Your face flushes over the words ‘I love you.’

“I’ve always kissed you for real,” He says, words laden with fondness. “Ever since the day we met and you slapped the shit out of me for being stupid. I’ve been hopelessly obsessed ever since. I’ve just been waiting for you to notice.”

You suck in a breath. “So all of this— the, the dates and the hanging out and the kissing— that’s all been real?”

“Every last bit.”

“Then in that case,” You say, squeezing his hands. “I would very much like you to kiss me.”

He leans in, slotting your lips together and everything just clicks. Like this is where you’re meant to be. Maybe it’s puppy love. Maybe it’s not.

All you know is that Eddie Munson is kissing you for real, and he always has been. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

#girlblogging #eddie munson #soft eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #angst #angst with a happy ending #x reader #hurt/comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader #that’s such an ambiguous tag #which eddie??? eddie DIAZ???#maybe i should start writing for him actually

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lqveharrington · 25 days ago

Note

steve harrington - you are in love <3

congrats on 2k!

You Are In Love | S.H.

summary: you and steve have been best friends forever, but overtime, you both realize that there's something more to your friendship than you both thought there was.

pairing: steve harrington x hopper!reader

includes: fluff, minimal usage of Y/N, oblivious idiots, kissing, el and reader are siblings, robin and max play match maker

a/n: cutie patootie stevie! (rules for celebration here!)

Steve Harrington was the type of man girls would go crazy over. From the way he behaved to the way he dressed, they would do anything to get his attention. Luckily for you, he deemed you to be his best friend since childhood. When Tommy and Carol whined about you always hanging around them in high school, Steve would swiftly change the subject. He really only liked hanging out with you anyway.

When you both graduated, something shifted between the two of you. Without the hindrance of Tommy and Carol, you and Steve were free to do whatever you wanted. Whenever you would hang around him, it felt like time would stop. He kept you on your toes despite knowing him for so long.

Weekly dinners around Hawkins during the year would soon become a tradition between the two of you. In your eyes they were friendly dates, but to the kids, you were practically dating. From the whispers as you hung back with him when taking the kids around the mall to the silver necklace he bought you during the summer — they saw something you and Steve couldn't.

They had to do something about it. Fortunately for them, you both made it quite easy.

"Harrington, are you taking me to dinner today or should we reschedule?" You hop onto the counter of Family Video, crossing your legs and smiling brightly at him. "Henderson told me you might have to drive him home after his DND thing or whatever."

"First of all," He started and pulled your legs to the side, sending you a bored look. "I'm at work and you can't bother me." You jokingly pout and follow his movements, watching him restock the bowl of candies at the front. "Secondly, we're still on for dinner. Dustin can get a ride from Munson."

You throw your head back and laugh, "Ah yes, the shared custody of your child."

He rolled his eyes and looked past your head, narrowing his eyes at Max and Eleven. "Why did the girls want to come here again?"

"Uhm, they said they were checking out a new movie that came out." You shrug and slide off the counter. You look in their direction to find them giggling and whispering about something you almost wanted to know about. Almost. "Anyway, don't miss me too much. I'll see you in a few hours, Harrington."

Steve pressed a kiss to the side of your head and pushed a stray piece of hair away from your face. "I'll see you in a bit, Hopper."

You grinned at him and sent him one last wave before rounding up the girls, dragging them back to your car. Before you could even ask them to buckle up, they began hounding you with questions you never expected them to ask. One of the more odd questions sticking out the most.

"Have you ever slept with Steve?" Eleven asked, making you whip around with wide eyes and mouth agape. Her own eyes widened in fear and looked at you with concern. "What?"

Your face flushed a dark red and you began to stutter over your words, unsure of where the question even originated from. "Well, I— No, I haven't but I'm— I'm sorry? What's happening? Do you even know what that means?"

"That you sleep in the same bed as him." She tilted her head and giggled at your red face. "Is that not what that means?"

Max shook her head but found it all amusing, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows at you. "You seem a little flustered, Hopper. What's up with that?"

"Nothing." You glare at her from your rear view as you pull out of the parking and begin the drive to her house. When Eleven still stared in confusion, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. "Yes, I have slept in the same bed as Steve before. And not like that, Mayfield."

"What?"

You shake your head and follow the road down, eyes occasionally flickering up to look at the girls who were still giggling. You didn't understand what they were trying to get at. You've always been able to sleep in the same bed as Steve since an incident years ago, but that was the extent of it all. Sure, you would occasionally sleep in one of his shirts and he would make you breakfast in the mornings, but that was it.

"Have you ever been on a date, Y/N?" Eleven asked again and fiddled with the ends of her sweater, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. "Like the ones me and Mike go on?"

"Uh," You signal and stop at a red light, fingers tapping the steering wheel in an effort to keep your cool. "I have, but it's been a while since I've been on a date."

As you turn, Eleven makes another comment that nearly makes you swerve right off the road. "I thought you and Steve were dating."

You choke on your spit and grip the wheel harder, face redder than Max's hair. Although you knew your sister's words were somewhat innocent, you knew the other girl was behind all the questioning. Steve was nothing but a friend to you. Your best friend. It would be weird to think of him as anything other than that, right?

Since childhood, he was nothing but your best friend. Sometimes you couldn’t help but think what would happen if anything else came out of it, but only in your dreams. When you realized how quiet you were, you silently cursed yourself for staying silent for too long as the girls came to their own conclusion.

"He kisses you a lot." Max drawled and bit back a smirk when your face reddens again, the sight nearly making her laugh once more. "Like more than you study for your exams in college—"

"What will it take for you two to be quiet for the rest of the ride?" You continue to glare at the red-head in the backseat and squint when she opened her mouth. "And your answer will not be money."

Max sighed and looked at Eleven, their eyes meeting and silently communicating with each other. They grinned wickedly and looked over at you, tone overly sweet when they answered your question.

"Admit you're in love with Steve Harrington."

"Oh, Stevie!" Robin grinned widely as she sauntered back in from the break room, leaning back against the counter. She met his confused eyes and tilted her head, still wearing a mischievous grin. "I have a tiny, little question for you."

Steve dug through the boxes underneath the table and waved his hand, barely listening to the girl. "Which is?"

"Could I just — I dunno — take a peek at your wallet?” She asked and pursed her lips to stop from laughing when she saw his incredulous expression peek from underneath the counter. “I just want to make sure my assumptions are right.”

"About what?" Steve sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his hair, praying that his hair still looked perfect after how many times he had done it.

"Just give me your stupid wallet." Robin huffed and snatched the leather from his hands. She scrunched her nose at him before opening the wallet, gasping when she found what she was looking for. "Oh my gosh."

Steve creased his brows and looked at the contents of his wallet. There was nothing but cash, his license, cards, and picture he’s had since high school. If Robin was planning on stealing, she picked the wrong day.

"What?"

"You do have a picture of Y/N in your wallet!" Robin all but squealed like a child, causing the customers in the store to look over at the commotion.

Steve sent them a strained smile before grabbing his wallet back from Robin and tucking it away, muttering quiet obscenities to the girl. Robin rolled her eyes, but the smirk that curled her lips overtook her emotions. He knew that some kind of electricity between the two oblivious idiots.

"You like her!" She spoke in a sing-song voice, lightly punching his shoulder. Robin laughed in excitement and shook her head before pausing, turning to look at Steve like a behavioral analyst. "Unless it's something more."

He looked to his left and to his right before raising a brow at her. He would never admit it out loud, but somewhere along the line he fell for you. Hard. From summer car drives to coffee at midnight — you were the one for him. Yet he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

When Steve stayed silent for too long, she started to punch his shoulder in excitement again. It was the silence between asking about love that seemed to trigger everyone today.

"Oh, you're in love! Steve 'the hair' Harrington finally falls in love with his one true love!" She dramatically put a hand to her forehead and leaned back on the counter again. "I thought I would never live to see the day that happens."

He huffed and lightly shoved her, rubbing his hand over his face. "She's my best friend."

"And?" Robin pushed him back and continued to smile, clearly finding his reaction amusing. It wasn’t rare for her to tease him about his dates, but knowing that he was deeply in love with you made it so much more fun. "She clearly likes you too."

"She does?" Steve perked up and rolled his eyes when she winked at him. He flipped her off and pretended to be busy again. “You’re so annoying.”

"Stevie is in love!" She laughed again and sighed softly, tapping her fingers against the counter. "You're going to dinner with her tonight, right?"

He sent her an odd look and nodded, brows furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, what does that—?"

"Confess tonight! I'm sure she loves you too, Harrington." She slammed her palms down onto the counter, once again attracting the customers in the store. Steve sent them another apologetic look before turning his head to glare at the girl. By the end of the day, he swore that they would get a complaint about Robin.

Robin put a hand up to his face when she saw he was going to speak. “And before you back out, the girls and I already made a plan so nothing becomes awkward between the two of you if it fails."

Steve’s eyes widened and pushed her hand out of the way, mind reeling at all the knew information. "Wait what?"

"Nothing!"

After dinner, you both decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. The temperature was perfect and you and Steve had plenty of calories to kill before heading to bed. Besides, you both had unspoken words to say to one another.

"Are you okay? You've been acting strange since you picked me up." You nudged your shoulder with his and tilted your head, eyes worried with concern.

As you walked through the neighborhood, the orange lights from the posts began to flicker on as the sun set in front of you. On instinct, you moved closer to Steve, accommodating to the warmth you were losing. He hid a small smile and pulled you close by the shoulders.

Steve shrugged and kissed the side of your head again. The gears in his head were loudly turning and he wasn’t sure how to make them stop. He met your eyes and smiled softly when you smiled up at him.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the new diner?" He nudged his head back toward the diner.

You hummed and tapped your chin in thought, snapping your fingers when you figured out how to put it. "A solid six and a half. They threw us a dirty glare for being too loud, but their milkshakes were perfect."

He raised his brows and chuckled softly when you rolled your eyes at him. You were always such a sucker for strawberry milkshakes. "Yeah?"

"Yes, Harrington.” You send him a teasing smile before extending your arm and flashing him your left hand adorned with the wrapping from the straw wrapper. “I even got to make us our paper rings."

You turned to face him properly and grabbed his left hand, lacing them together to show the matching rings. You went to say something else when you found him already staring at you, making your mind instantly blank.

Steve swallowed and squeezed your hand, taking a step closer to you. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You murmur and take your own step closer until you were chest to chest.

His gaze dropped to your lips before looking back into your eyes, eyes filled with so much emotion. You gave him a curt nod and let him cup your cheek, shutting your eyes when he leaned in.

Your lips met and for the first time, you really believed time truly stopped. It was just you and him on the sidewalk of Hawkins, Indiana. Your own hands came up to grab the lapels of his denim jacket, deepening the kiss when he pulled you impossibly closer.

When you finally pulled away, your mind was still blanking and the first thing you could say was —

"Oh, my strawberry milkshake." You whisper out before groaning, hiding your face in his shoulder. "Now the thing I say after we first kiss will always be strawberry milkshake!"

Steve kisses the top of your head and gently squeezed your waist. "You're cute."

You scoff before looking up, playing with the buttons on his jacket. "Did Robin put you up to this?"

"Yep." He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, narrowing his eyes at you when he realized what Robin meant. "Did the girls?"

"Yep." You sigh and push up on your toes to give him a quick peck. You tilt your head when he smiles, "We're not going to tell them about this and make them feel bad, right?"

"Of course not.” He laced his hands with yours and began the trek back to his car. "We're only best friends after all."

723 notes · View notes

caxde · 10 months ago

Text

bright eyes | eddie munson x reader

summary you're a new neighbour in the trailer park, on a sunny day Eddie's daughter bumps into you. (4.1k)

warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!

a/n: i think i might make this a little series if you guys would like that <3 part 2 part 3

It was warm outside.

Early spring had its advantages, flowers started to bloom, the sun shone brighter and longer, and the rain fell only at night when you had trouble sleeping.

You had just moved here, and you still weren’t sure or knew that much, so you tended to keep to yourself. You’d go to work, to the little shop on main street, back to your little trailer.

You were sitting down on your little kitchen floor, looking at the way your washing machine turned around, waiting for your hair to dry after the shower, so you could sleep with fresh sheets tonight. You enjoyed this sort of calmness, a new found happiness that you weren’t aware you could achieve.

You placed the white sheets on the little laundry basket that you had lying around, cloth pins scattered on its bottom. You held it, against your waist, your left hand grabbing it while you struggled to open the door.

You whispered along the words of a song that was playing from a beat up radio from across the street, taking your time, as you placed every sheet perfectly, enjoying the sun shining on your face. It was all going as well as it could.

“Hi.”

It startled you, not as much as it could, the little voice coming from down below you, it forced you to look down, a little girl looked up at you, half hiding behind your sheets, she was wearing a black faded black sabbath shirt that didn’t belong to her, the seam of it well past her knees, white socks on her feet, her hair was black and curly, half hiding her eyes.

“Oh. Hi.” You smiled at her, the sweetest tone you could fathom came out of your lips. She became shy for a second, as she grabbed one of your clothes pins and handed it to you. “Thank you, buddy.” You smiled as you grabbed it, placing it on top of one of your cushion covers, even if it didn’t need an extra one. “You’ll get your socks dirty.” You point out.

She smiled in a shy manner, covering her face with her hands as she nodded.

“Bug?” She turned around as soon as she heard his voice. Her arms went up, demanding to be held by him. “There you are!” He had a soft and playful tone, as he grabbed her.

You felt stuck there for a second. He was tall, with curly dark hair, strong decorated by tattoos arms that flex when he held her, close to his chest. The same smile she seemed to have was imprinted on his face. It’s not that he is attractive -which he undeniably is- but he seems to shine, in a beautiful light, warmer than the sun.

“I’m sorry if she annoyed you, we were playing hide and seek.” His words come out way too quicker than he had wanted them to, with an apologetic look on his face as he swayed his body, her giggles invading the space between you.

“She didn’t, not at all.” You smiled at him, before looking back at her, she was giggling at you now, and a soft spot was found deep inside your heart. “She was helping me do laundry, actually.” You point out to the extra wood clothespin that she had given you.

“Oh, so you can help the pretty lady and not me?” He jokes as he tickles her belly, the infectious laughter growing louder and stronger as he holds his face closer to hers.

But you don’t really listen, the only thing in your mind right now is his voice calling you pretty.

pretty, pretty, pretty.

Your cheeks become warmer, pinker.

As soon as he notices, he realises what he had said.

He had called you pretty before even introducing himself. He feels like a fool, he meets a pretty girl and is only focused on the one in his arms.

He tries to fix it, a soft grin dedicated to you as a nervous scoff leaves his lips.

You don’t really mind the silence, or the opportunity to look at him, and his dark chocolate eyes, but you have the impulse to tell him your name, and you do, with an upside down smile that passes down to him.

“I’m Eddie.” He says in return, grabbing your hand not thinking much of it, though he didn’t think he’d feel a sort of sparks as soon as your hand met his. To be fair, neither did you. “This little bug is Lua.” He adds, as he lets go of your hand, slowly, so his fingers can tickle her again, making her giggle once more, her tiny hands grabbing his hair in a playful manner.

“Hi Lua.” It’s not that your voice comes out shy, but the high pitched baby voice makes your tone come out with a bit of a treble, as if nervousness that she wouldn’t like you took over. “Thanks for helping me with laundry.” You add, as she hides, pushing her face against Eddie’s chest, the pureness of that gesture makes your smile wider.

If you weren’t so focused on Lua’s reactions, you would have caught Eddie lost into you, as he had never experienced such kindness or softness from someone that wasn’t already close.

He was used to the stares, and the silent judgment from everyone, way before Lua came into his life, and mostly it came from people around his age, or way older. His constant thought behind a string of ‘shut up grandpa’ and ‘go back to your retirement home’ that he never said out loud. The world could be mean, but he would never let her little girl know that. At least not yet.

He wasn’t used to this though.

A kind stranger, around his age, that doesn’t really judge, and interacts in a playful manner with her. It was more than he could fathom.

“‘r welcome.” Lua mumbled as she looked up from her hiding spot for a second, before burying herself back into his arms.

Eddie’s heart felt full for a moment. Lua wasn’t used to strangers, and she didn't really like to talk out loud to people she wasn’t used to. Though these days she was only used to uncle Way and Stevie, or aunt Rob. So seeing her, not only talking back after you told her something, but having seen her approach you out of her own will, it made his mind stop worrying for just a second. Lua’s social ability was just as good as his in that moment.

The thought made him smile to himself.

“We should check if our’s is done.” He mumbled to Lua’s ear as he started swinging his chest again, hugging her tightly as he felt how she was starting to get heavier. “That way you can stop wearing dada’s shirt.” He looked attentive at your face, waiting for your reaction.

He felt better when he didn’t see nothing but a compassionate smile.

Eddie was also used to people thinking he wasn’t the dad, maybe an uncle, maybe an older brother. Eddie was also used to people opening their eyes wide as soon as they hear dad when referred to him.

But you didn’t.

Truth be told, it did shock you a bit. But the little girl was a carbon copy of him. The same wide smile and wild hair. And the world was mean and complicated enough, you didn’t need to make it harder for someone you had just met.

“We’ll see you around?” He asks, with a hopefulness on his voice that you’re not too sure what it means, or what you actually want it to mean.

“Yeah, I moved in a while ago so…” He nodded as he pointed at the little trailer right in front of yours.

“That’s us.”

“Way!” Lua blurted out as she looked back at where she called home, and Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle and give her a kiss on her temple.

“Yes! And uncle Wayne too.” You noticed that his tone is sweeter, calmer and a bit higher when he talks to the little girl on his arms than when he talks to you. “If you ever need anything…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, the end of it implied, and you’re left nodding, telling him that if they ever need anything you’re here too, waving bye to Lua as she looks over Eddie’s shoulder, her little hand waving back.

You finish hanging your laundry dry, as you think about what just happened.

You had finally made friends that weren’t work related, and one of them was a baby. You sort of chuckle to yourself. It felt stupid, but it also felt good, knowing someone here, and that someone being nice, and kind.

It felt as if you were finally on the right path.

“Bug, please?” Eddie whined for the fourth time, while Lua was still on the higher part of the couch, looking out the window.

She shook her head again, Wednesdays were always the longest days in the Mudson household. Eddie took another big breath, while he looked at his wrist watch once again, afraid he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave soon.

“Okay… You can either stay here with uncle Way, or you can come with dada to the garage. Please?” He bargained, for the last time, begging to some higher power she’ll climb down the sofa.

He could scream out of excitement once she finally did.

“friend?” She asked, in a mumble as she pointed out of the door.

She had been doing that for a while now, ever since Eddie had found Lua in your yard, she kept asking to go see you, for some reason that escaped Eddie’s mind, her little girl seemed to have an infatuation with you.

Eddie sat down on the floor now, and Lua started walking closer to him, he laughed in defeat as she giggled, her little steps approaching him.

“Once I get back from work, deal?”

Eddie held his hand out, waiting for her to shake it as she usually did when she knew she had won whatever she wanted -which happened frequently- but accepted with glee once she tried to hug him, with her usual clumsiness. Her arms not quite reaching the back of his neck until he helped her up.

He enjoyed this little moment.

Holding her close while nothing else was going on. A long day ahead of him that he wasn’t totally ready for, but then again he wasn’t really ready for a lot of things that he ended up being capable of.

Wayne’s steps broke the small intimate moment.

“You made a friend, Lua?” He asked as she giggled at the sight of him, even if he still was half asleep, Wayne always seemed to have more than enough energy for her.

“She did.”

“Who?”

“New girl.” Eddie nodded at the trailer that could be seen through their window.

“Huh.” Wayne had never been a man of many words, but the way his facial expression changed usually left nothing to the imagination. In this case, it was a warning. An overprotective warning.

“She seems nice. Lua approached her.” She smiled, as she always did when she heard her own name. Eddie knew that she liked to be included, no matter what. Maybe that’s why he tried so hard.

“You did?” Wayne’s eyes opened wider, as he squatted down to meet her eye level, she wobbled her way into him, as she giggled once again. She had a secret power, or at least that’s what Eddie thought, to make everyone happy.

“Friend!” She said again, pointing at where she had last seen you.

“Okay bug, see you in a bit?”

“Lo you.” She muttered as she waved bye, Eddie’s heart warmer as he opened the door and blew her a kiss.

“Love you too, bug.” Eddie opened the door, stopping on the frame as he always did, checking his pockets, making sure he had everything he needed with him.

“Kid, if you plan on going over, make sure she’s okay with it. Not a lot of people are.” It was another warning, his left eyebrow raised, his tone sharper. Eddie just nodded.

And before he knew it, he was already on your door, knocking and hoping you’re actually home.

You were, and the nocks on your door wake you up. You had always been a light sleeper. You found your way out of your bed, and you didn’t care if your hair was a bit knotted than usual, messier or that your eyes were still adjusting to the light creeping through your windows. You opened the door and there he was. Tall, handsome Eddie, in his washed up jeans and his white shirt that had some small car grease marks on it. His opened blue short sleeve shirt with the little name tag made you smile internally.

“Sorry.” He muttered, as soon as you made eye contact with him.

He took a second, you stood there, sleep still present on your face and overall demeanor, but what caught his attention -even if he tried not to- were your naked legs, barely covered by an oversized shirt that you evidently used as a sleep shirt. Still, you looked pretty, he thought. He also felt bad that he had woken you up.

“S’kay. Morning.” You half joked as you smiled up at him, your head resting against the door frame, your arms crossed over your chest, the air making you feel a bit colder than you were deep in your sheets.

“Yeah, morning.” He was left speechless. He wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden he wished he hadn’t knocked. So you could be resting, being face to face with you, he could see the little bags under your eyes, and he imagined how much you were enjoying getting to sleep in.

“You knocked to tell me good morning?” If you hadn’t had a smile on your lips, or your voice wasn’t as sweet and soft as it was, Eddie would have felt even worse. When in reality it made you inexplicably happy that he was the reason you had woken up.

“No, yeah, sorry.” He chuckled in a nervous manner once again. “Uh, Lua has been asking for you, and uh… I’m done at work early today, and if it’s not too weird and if it’s okay we could come for a bit after, don’t worry if you don’t feel like it i-”

“I’d love that.” You cut his nervous and anxious rambling off. “I’m free today, so I can go pick up some things for her?”

Eddie relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his smile finally appearing.

While you had to try hard to hide your excitement.

“You don’t have to…”

“Shut up. She deserves it.”

Even if you weren’t aware of it, that was the best thing you could have said to him. But truth be told, you were actually excited, you had been thinking about him, and the promise of a new friendship since you had met him, so this? It felt like the perfect excuse.

“What time were you thinking?”

“Uh, I dunno, my shift ends at around six, so maybe…”

“I’ll have snacks ready by six then, don’t worry.”

He was way more thankful than he could express, but he tried his best anyway.

“Thank you princess, it means a lot. Truly.” That nickname rang in your ears for a while, the same way it did when he had called you pretty. It was made obvious that you had liked it by the way you were starting to blush.

“Don’t worry Edds.” You stayed just like you were for a second longer. Looking at him, and the way his dimples were showing when he smiled as wide as he did, and a spark in his eyes he seemed to reserve for you. “Hope you have a good day at work.”

He was the one blushing now, and the one he was left with the way you had called him Edds, the sound of your voice present on his ears for a while after he had started driving. It wasn’t until he arrived at the garage, when he realised he was smiling at nothing, like an idiot.

You might have gone a bit overboard.

You had gone into town, and before you knew it your fridge was now filled with various juices and milk. The good ones that you usually didn’t buy for yourself. You had thought about baking a cake, but you ended up deciding that that felt too much as a birthday type of treat, so you went for your comfort recipe.

The cookie dough was already done, and you were chopping up the chocolate bar into smaller bits. You hated dark chocolate, so milky sweet one was the only acceptable one.

Morrisey’s voice kept you company as you mutter along the lyrics.

You looked over your little home, you had cleaned, deeply. Afraid that Eddie would judge you, or that Lua would somehow hurt herself or something could happen to her. You tend to do that, over worrying about things you can’t really control.

Then again, Eddie was doing the same thing.

A quick shower, fresh clothes, and hair almost dry. Lua looked up at him with excitement, as he tried to find something else for her to wear. She had a tendency to steal his shirts when he wasn’t there, in an attempt to be close to him, or at least that’s what he thought. So the negotiation began.

“Bug, which one?” On his left hand he had a light blue dress that Joyce gave him a few years ago, on his right he had a newer pair of overalls. She stood there, shaking her head as she hugged the shirt she was already wearing. “You need to get dressed if you want to go see your new friend, bug.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, as soon as she realised they were going to see you, she pointed at the overalls and had no issue getting ready.

Thank god for you, he thought. It had never been that easy, normally Lua hated changing clothes, especially when she was already comfortable. But this time, she didn’t only do it, she helped, and was excited to.

Lua wasted no time, her hands hitting your door as hard as she could, which resulted in soft knocks you still heard.

“Hi.” She beamed up at you, holding her arms open for you, her voice higher than you remembered. It might be her childish excitement, or at least that’s what you think.

“Hi Lua.” You met her level of excitement as you squatted down so you could meet her, her arms trying to hug you, waiting for you to help her get up so she could do it. Used to this type of hug with her dad.

Speaking of, Eddie was speechless. Mainly because Lua doesn’t really hug people that are not him, or Wayne. Steve maybe had gotten two or three hugs, she usually blew kisses. Also he wasn’t sure if you actually wanted them there, or were just being nice, but that doubt went away as soon as he heard your voice, and saw the way you smiled at her.

He also was pretty sure that he could smell cookie dough.

Lua found her way in, passing you by as you greeted Eddie. She didn’t have time to waste, her curiosity always winning. In her defense, your house was full of colour, and she wasn’t used to it. Every pillow was a different colour, and they were everywhere. Your couch was green, which she didn’t even know that was a possibility. Your walls had photos, and posters, and drawings. She had so much to look at she was grinning from ear to ear, laughing as she moved around.

Eddie did the same, in a more discrete manner. He found his way in the middle of your living room, he looked at the stacked shelves, they were full to the brim, various fantasy books that he recognised -mainly because he had already read them- cassette tapes and vinyls also shared a big portion of space. He smiled to himself everytime he knew a group that you seemed to like. Your vhs collection also caught his eye. You, on the other hand, were left there, holding your hands in an anxious manner, not too sure what to do now. Seeing how father and daughter act the same in different ways.

“You’re listening to the Smiths?” He asked, once he caught on to what was playing.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll uh… turn it off.” You became embarrassed, knowing that probably he didn’t like that type of music, or maybe it was too loud. Eddie smiled, shaking his head no.

“No, it’s fine. Lua likes them, that’s all.” You looked down at her, and relaxed once you saw her dancing along. She was moving up and down, kind of in tune with the music.

The little timer started, letting you know that the cookies were now done.

“Lua, you like cookies?” She didn’t even need to say anything, her eyes opened as she heard the word, she walked next to you, Eddie following closely.

He grabbed her up, letting her sit down on the counter. He was grateful all the trailers were the same, that way he knew -kinda- where everything was.

“Carefull, bug. It’s hot.”

“Hot.” She repeated, pointing at the baking sheet that you took out, fresh golden chocolate chips came out. “For me?”

“Well, not all of them.” Eddie answered, with an amused tone in her voice that made you chuckle in response.

“We have to wait for them to cool down a bit.” You told her as you placed them on a plate, the tips of your fingers slightly burning.

“Why?” Her eyes opened in wonder, not really following you.

“‘Cause when they’re too warm, they can give you a belly ache.” You explained to her, earnest in your tone, as you touched your own stomach.

“Only five minutes, bug.” Lua turned around, looking at Eddie with a confused look. “You can wait five minutes right?” She looked at him, slowly. You couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing the way they share the same look between them.

You were on the couch.

Eddie didn’t count it as cuddling, not really.

You were just sitting down next to him, his arm brushing yours, as you both looked between the T.V that was playing ‘Arthur and the Stone ’- you had a tendency to collect VHS, and the style and drawings had pulled you to buy it. You didn’t have an excuse until now to watch it, so you were just enjoying it as much as Lua did- and the little one, who was enamored by the story, while she colored in one paper lazily.

Eddie had become a bit too comfortable. His body feeling heavier, warmer, he was on the verge of falling asleep. That same feeling shot sirens on his head. This felt too nice, too normal, too usual. He could get used to this, and that wasn’t good.

He didn’t really know you.

Eddie knew where you lived, how your living room looked, that you worked almost everyday -though he still didn’t know where-, and that you were incredibly nice. And sweet.

Eddie also knew that Lua trusted you, and for now, that was enough.

It was enough that you had taken time out of your day so you could bake them cookies, or buying the expensive juice that you had taken them in as if they had always belonged there.

Lua giggled and Eddie’s eyes opened, seeing how she was pointing at the T.V when the boy turned into a squirrel, and the way she looked up at you, wanting to see your reaction. He was happy, more than he had been in a while.

You were sinking deeper into the cushions. Deeper into him and this familiarity. You could get used to this, but you weren’t unsure if you should. You enjoyed spending time with them, and this was fun, but then again, it was scary. It scared you, the thought of it going wrong, or you doing something you weren’t supposed to, it was a bit too much.

While you were sitting down there, with him that close, his smell lingering in the air, his warmness by your side, the risk of this crush evolving into something else was too much.

You didn’t care. Not at all.

Neither did Eddie. Not even a little bit.

part 2 is up!

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

2K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 1 month ago

Note

Hi lovie a lil request: the first time Steve May be raises his voice or gets upset with reader? And just like angst with fluff

Thank you for your request (and for your patience)!

cw: near-miss car accident, it's lightly implied that reader has trauma (or maybe she's just jumpy and easily upset! who's to say)

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 748 words

“You can’t tell me you don’t know who this is.”

“I don’t!” Steve swears. “I’ve heard the song, I just don’t know who sings it.”

You shake your head, grinning. You’ve got one leg hiked up on the driver’s seat and Steve’s hand trapped beneath the other, his fingers spread on the fleshy underside of your thigh.

“This is Hall and Oates!”

When Steve doesn’t react however you think he should, you glance over. He raises his eyebrows. “Should I know who that is?”

You laugh. “Yes!” you insist. “How can you not know who they are?”

“Sounds more like a cereal than a band,” he says. “I don’t know what to tell you. I listen to songs on the radio, but I just don’t keep track of the names. I like this song, though.”

You smile at him sideways. “I feel like you could be a secret Hall and Oates fan.”

Steve gives your leg a squeeze. “It’d have to be a secret from me, too,” he says, “but I guess—hey, hey!” His voice rises sharply as he looks out his window. “Y/N!”

You jolt, swerving out of the lane you’d been changing into as the car in your blind spot honks. You set your other leg down, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“Shit.” Steve lets out a breath. He realizes his grip on your leg has turned cruel in his panic, and he lets go. “Sorry. That was…shit, that was close.”

You make a small sound of agreement.

Steve breathes out again. He combs a hand through his hair, heart still going a mile a minute but starting to come down. “Y’okay?”

You don’t say anything. Steve looks over, hand finding your thigh again automatically. Your body is stiff in your seat, and your eyes are bright.

“Hey,” he says, surprised. Dread starts to take form in his gut. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s…it’s fine, why don’t we pull over? Pull over, baby.”

You do, biting your lip to keep your tears from spilling. It makes Steve’s chest ache. He’s seen you like this before, when there’s fighting or sharp voices or once when Robin opened a cabinet and three metal pots clattered out onto the floor, but never with him, never because of him.

“It’s okay,” he says again, once the car is in park. He tries to sound believable, making his voice soft and gentle. “Can I…do you want a hug?”

You nod. Steve reaches for you, then stops, his hands hovering by your waist. “You sure?” he checks.

“Yeah,” you rasp, and he goes all the way.

He knows you’ve cut yourself loose when you press your face to his shoulder and he feels a tiny wet spot seep into his shirt. Steve hugs you tight, leaning over the center console until it digs into his side painfully.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“No.” You draw in a wet breath. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have yelled. I was just—I just got scared.”

“I know,” you say back. You hold onto him. “I’m glad you yelled. It got my attention.”

Steve frowns, retreating enough to see your face. He brushes away a couple of tears, and your eyes go to the side like you’re embarrassed.

“I don’t ever want to scare you,” he says, earnestly.

You shake your head. “You don’t.”

He lowers his voice again. It’s nearly a whisper. “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“Don’t,” you insist. “I’m fine.”

Steve watches you carefully. “Yeah? You’re okay?” he asks. You nod, and he relaxes. “Okay. C’mere.”

You meet him across the console without reservation, returning his gentle kisses with your own. He does his best to soothe the bullied flesh of your bitten lip.

“Y’okay?” he asks again, just to be sure. You make a soft sound of confirmation. “You want me to drive the rest of the way?”

You pull back to look at him. A little bit of humor is back in your eyes. “Would that make you feel better?”

Steve grins, sheepish. “A little bit. Only because you’re upset.”

“Yeah,” you sigh heavily, and it’s a jokey thing, but the rest of the tension goes out of you with it. “That’s fine, we can switch.”

“Thanks.” Steve gives you another kiss, lingering for a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt. “It’ll be easier this way. You can tell me more about honey bunches of oats.”

“You know that’s not what they’re called.”

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stevesgother · 1 month ago

Text

i'll be your mirror - S.H

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.3k

Warnings - depictions of depression/anxiety, depressive episode, self neglect, cursing, mental health themes, non-sexual nudity

Contains - soft boyfriend steve helping you take care of yourself during a depressive episode

AN - man i am just pumpin fics out rn huh? i am NOT having a depressive episode rn, but if u are, ily. take care ~ emma <3

The previously soft flannel of your pillowcase was now stiff with mascara stained tears. A look outside your tiny window informs you that it’s started to snow, and suddenly you can’t remember the last time you left your room, let alone your apartment.

What’s supposedly meant to be the ‘most wonderful time of the year’ for everyone else, for you just feels like drowning in a thick, inky sea. The absence of twinkling, multicolored lights on your walls leaves the room bathed in an intimidating darkness, and you just can’t seem to bring yourself to leave the confines of your bed– it traps and keeps you there, not unlike sticky quicksand in a desert.

The landline that hangs on the wall just right of the kitchen has been ringing for at least a day and a half, whoever it is--consistent. There’s logically only one person it could be. There's only one person who still bothers with you when you’re like this.

You hear the jingling of a spare key being shoved through its matching lock, and the distinct rush of a draft being let in through an open door. There's no effort made to get up– to save face and pretend like you haven’t been rotting in your bed for days– you can’t bring yourself to feel anything other than apathy.

Heavy, booted footfall and the gentle sound of your name being called float through your thin apartment walls as your boyfriend makes his way towards the room you’ve been holed up in.

“Thought I might find you here,” he says as he clicks the door shut behind him, “brought you some soup,” he waves the tupperware container at you in an attempt to make it look enticing, but the sight just makes bile rise in your throat.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble into the sheets.

“You have to eat, baby,”

This is why you hadn’t been answering his calls. He too sweet for his own good, and you don't feel you deserve him, or his unconditional love for you-- so you just say, “I already ate,”

“You haven’t left this room in days,” he sets the plastic dish on your dresser next to the decaying vase of flowers his mom brought you on Thanksgiving, toes off his shoes and makes his way towards your bed. You feel the mattress dip under his weight, but your head is still buried in your pillow– a poor attempt at disguising how awful you look.

He rubs your back in slow, comforting circles. Steve’s only ever seen you like this a handful of times, and each time, it breaks his heart just a little bit more than the last. He wishes fiercely that there was something more he could do for you– that if he wasn’t able to take the pain from you altogether, then at least maybe he could be miserable with you– but instead, he brings you your favorite comfort foods, and waits with you for the storm to pass.

“I’ve been calling you for a few days,” he says, not unkindly, as he runs his fingers soothingly through your knotted hair, “was worried about you, you know?”

“I know,” you whisper, beginning to feel the sting of guilty tears, “I just didn’t want you to have to take care of me,”

“I want to take care of you,” he says matter-of-factly, “I love you, and I care about how your wellbeing,”

You reply with only a barely noticeable nod.

“How about we take a shower? Or a bath?” he offers, “I could wash your hair for you,”

“I just want to lay here,” you sniffle.

“I know, honey, but you’ll feel better,” he moves to kneel on the floor by your bed, and pushes the hair away from your face that's been plastered there by sticky tears, “I promise. And I’ll be with you the whole time, alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper and he helps you sit up slowly; dizzy from how long you’ve been horizontal. He seals the deal with a gentle kiss pressed to the center of your forehead

–

In the bathroom, he sits you on the closed lid of the toilet and turns the shower faucet on and all the way to the left. While you wait for him to grab you both towels, you reluctantly stand and dare a glimpse at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is matted in places, the bags under your eyes are nearly blue and you've been in the same pajamas for three days too long. You hate how disheveled you look, and you don’t understand how Steve can stand to see you in such a state and still want to be with you. It’s all too much, and you begin to quietly weep.

“Okay, I threw the towels in the–hey,” his tone colored in concern as he reemerges from the hallway and sees you sobbing at your own reflection, “Baby–what’s wrong? C’mon, talk to me,” he says as he tries to sidestep in front of you and block your view of the mirror.

“I just–hate–I don’t–” you struggle to speak through gasps, feeling as though you’re trying to inhale through a straw.

“You have to breathe, sweetheart,” he tells you, this time a little more firmly, “Can you breathe with me?”

He counts for you both as you take synced, exaggerated breaths in increments of three seconds. In three, hold three, out three.

Once your breaths come more evenly, he tries again, “Now tell me what’s got you so upset, huh?”

“I just don’t want you to see me like this,” you tell him between hiccups, your cheeks blotchy and red from your sudden rush of tears.

“See you like what?” He looks genuinely lost, like he can’t comprehend what you could possibly be referring to.

You glimpse down at yourself, “I just look so–”

“--Beautiful?” He interrupts before you get the chance to insult yourself, “Strong? Brave? The most lovely person I’ve ever known? What??” He rambles, exasperatedly trying to understand how you don’t see yourself the way that he does.

You glance sideways back at the mirror, though your view is obscured by Steve’s shoulder now.

“Stop.” You’re startled by the stern clip of his voice, “Stop looking over there, and look at me,” he commands, gentler this time. His calloused hand cups your cheek and he thumbs away the tears that still threaten to spill, “You’re so wonderful, love. And I know you don’t see what I see, so I’m gonna see enough for the both of us, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur into the cotton shoulder of his t-shirt, one you’re quickly soaking with tears.

“Good, now let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?” He lifts your arms over your head slowly, just enough to get you out of your soiled shirt.

–

After he washes your hair, and holds you firmly against his chest under the hot spray of water from the showerhead, he coaxes you into the living room to watch a movie with him on the couch.

The Breakfast Club plays quietly on your small, boxy television while you sit cross-legged on the floor in front of Steve. In a fresh pair of pajamas, the twisted and unkind corners of your subconscious feel less daunting. It doesn’t heal you, not really, but it’s a step in the right direction.

You sip on the soup Steve brought you from home–Minestrone, your favorite– as he runs a wide toothed comb through your damp hair.

“Want me to braid it, baby?” He asks.

“If you don’t mind?” You look back at him over your shoulder. He’s so pretty in the glow of the TV– looking down at you like you put the stars in the sky.

“Of course I don’t mind,” he chuckles, “You say the silliest things sometimes,”

And for the first time in days, a smile graces your features.

divider credit to @/enchantingthings-a

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 2 months ago

Text

Filthy

Summary- Eddie gets a stomach dropping call from you, asking to pick you up and take you home from the party you were invited to. As soon as he arrives, he can see just how awful your night must’ve been. *i was informed that there’s two definitions for what a ‘Pig Party’ is so for context, a pig party is where guys only invite ‘unattractive’ girls*

Genre- Hurt/Comfort

Warnings- mentions of sa (nothing explicit), awful frat guys doing awful things

Tag List- @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian @gvf23 @wheels-of-despair @goatsmcgee @flawiette

(if you’d like to be added to the tag list please let me know 🖤)

Word Count- 4.6k

“That’s not fair!” Grant whined from his spot at the lunch table, “Why do you get to go to some big college party and not us?!”

“Because,” You had said once again with an eye roll, “I was the only one that got invited. Besides, it’s supposed to be a date. I think?”

“You think?” Jeff asked after sipping from his can of Pepsi.

“Yeah, i mean the guy didn’t ask officially if i wanted to go as a date, he just said i looked like i’d fit in and he’d love to bring me.”

“Who even is this guy?” Eddie asked with a shrug, his arms crossed over his chest.

“His names Chris, i met him at the mall last weekend. Why, you mad he got to me first?” You said with a grin, noticing the dusting of pink on the apples of Eddie’s cheeks the moment you mentioned your college boys name.

“No, i’m asking because we’ve never met the guy, and to be honest with you… i don’t think he’d walk up to any random girl and ask them to go to some party with him.”

The table went quiet for a moment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, your tone easily giving away your anger.

“Dude, i’d shut it if i were you.” Gareth said quietly to Eddie.

“No,” You said as you leaned back on your chair, eyebrows furrowed in frustration and your arms crossed over your chest as you waited for a response from Eddie, “I want him to explain himself. What, am i not pretty enough to get approached by college guys?”

“I didn’t say that!” Eddie argued.

“What is it then, are you jealous of him? Or maybe you’re just pissed because i got invited to a college party and you only show up when they need drugs?”

“Hey, quiet down (y/n).” Jeff whispered to you, trying his best to calm the situation down before it got any worse.

“No! I’m tired of you always being such an asshole whenever shit like this happens. You’re supposed to be my friend, you’re supposed to be happy for me when things like this happen but every fucking time you always get so pissy about it.” You stood up quickly, the metal legs of your chair screeching on the linoleum floor as you grabbed your bag, “Talk to me again when you decide to stop being a child.”

You hit his shoulder hard as you walked past, the boys staring as they watched you exit the cafeteria and enter the halls through the double doors. Gareth turned to Eddie with an annoyed look in his eyes,

“Again? Really?”

“What?!” Eddie yelled out, “What did i do?!”

“Eddie, she’s right. Every time something good happens to her, especially when it’s got something to do with some guy, you manage to get yourself bitched at because you’re too much of a pussy to actually tell her you like her.”

“I do not!” Eddie argued back. The raised eyebrows and frustrated stares were enough to tell Eddie that he really did do the same thing every time. Without even noticing. “…Do i?”

“Yes!” The three shouted in unison.

“That’s what happens when you don’t accept that you like her…” Jeff chuckled to himself, teasing Eddie as the other boys joined in a laugh.

“Oh please, like you guys don’t get jealous about stuff like that too.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but at least we don’t have to see and talk to the girls we like every day. You do. That’s why it’s different.” Grant joked, clearly trying to get a rise out of Eddie.

“Me and (y/n) are just friends. That’s it. Always have been… Always will be.” Eddie sighed.

“You hesitated.” Gareth chuckled.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re wrong, we’re friends. I don’t know why i get like that, i just can’t help it.” Eddie shrugged and slumped in his seat, so unsure of himself.

The thought of you being with him had never crossed his mind, but the signs were there. He thought back on all the other times he’d been an asshole to you over something like this, and the guys were right, it always had something to do with you being involved with some guy.

“Whatever man, if you gotta tell yourself that to be happy then so be it.” Gareth smiled and downed the last of the can of Dr. Pepper in front of him before standing to clear the table. The other boys followed suit, clearing the lunch table before grabbing their things and heading off to class.

Eddie was never the school type, but now he couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. All he could think about was you.

Did he like you?

He couldn’t. Like he had always said, you were just friends. Every guy gets a little irritated when their friend blows them off to hang out with someone else. Every guy gets jealous when hearing about how good a date was the night before. Every guy can’t help but get nervous when their friend asks how they look when trying on a new dress. Every guy gets tense when their arms get grabbed to keep together in the halls.

Didn’t they?

All he could think about was every single interaction the two of you had since you’ve met, and wether he wanted to admit it or not, every single thing was an indication of a crush. And he hated knowing that not only were the guys right to be teasing him about something so childish, but he hated knowing how you must’ve felt whenever he treated you badly.

The rest of the day was a blur.

He managed to finish classes, drive home, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling without any perception of time. He didn’t even notice Wayne calling into his room nearly 30 minutes ago to tell him dinner was ready.

It consumed him.

You. How he treated you. And how he shouldn’t have been stupid enough for even himself to not notice how much he really liked you. All he had hoped was that this was something he could apologize for. It was definitely deserved.

As Eddie sighed and finally sat up on the edge of his bed, he jumped in surprise from the sudden ringing of the phone in the hall. He checked the clock and saw that it was already 7 pm, and at this point Wayne would’ve been gone for work.

He stood and stretched, wandering into the hall and taking the phone off of the handset at its fourth ring.

“Hello?” He groaned out.

“Eddie?…”

His attention was grabbed immediately. As soon as he heard your voice whimper his name on the other end he was filled with a mixture of relief and concern.

“Hey, (y/n), are you ok?”

“No…” He could hear a faint sniffle, and the shakiness of your voice was indication enough for him to tell that tears had been shed, “Can you please come get me?”

“Yeah! Yes, of course, where are you?” Eddie frantically searched for his keys, pulling the spiral cord as far as it could go into his room as he grabbed his jacket.

“I’m at that party… 247 Stewart Street, it’s just past the mall…”

“I’ll be right there! Stay put ok? I’ll be there in less than 15, i promise.”

Eddie hung up the phone and quickly ran outside to the van, shoving the key into the ignition and pulling out as fast as he could onto the gravel road. He didn’t know what happened, but he did know that whatever happened to make you so uncomfortable and worried enough to call him of all people it must’ve been bad.

He sped out onto the road, not even bothering to pay attention to the stop signs unless he knew there was a cop waiting around the corner. He didn’t want to take any chances of anything else happening, or god forbid something else happening to you. Eddie was just thankful that he could tell exactly which house it was on the street.

It was a larger house near the end of the street, cars filled the driveway and out on the lawn he saw a few girls comforting each other as one stood in the middle. Her cheeks were red and her eyes filled with tears. Whatever happened inside, it couldn’t be good.

He parked the van in front of the driveway, blocking in the freshly waxed cars that were parked so neatly with his van. It may have been a shitbox, but it made a damn good barricade.

Eddie couldn’t help the anger bubbling up inside. This was more than just a little tiff happening and you needed him for backup, you gave him a cry for help and there was no way in hell he was going to ignore it. He took one last deep breath to calm himself, or at least to keep him from immediately throwing punches as soon as the front door opened.

His fist pounded on the door and he stood there and waited with his arms crossed over his chest. At least he knew that given his reputation he could be pretty intimidating. The door slowly opened and a college age looking boy opened the door with a smile and a half filled red solo cup in hand,

“Can i help you?” He smirked, looking Eddie up and down.

“Where’s (y/n)?” Eddie said sternly, more like a demand than a question for whoever this boy was and the gaggle of clones behind him.

“Oh!” He laughed, “Yeah, her. She locked herself in the bathroom down the hall,” The boy stepped back and held his arm out to welcome Eddie inside, pointing him in the direction of the door beneath the stairs, “She’s all yours.” He laughed before taking a swig from his cup.

Eddie wandered inside, not before ‘accidentally’ bumping into this stranger and causing whatever drink was left in the cup to spill all down the front of his polo.

The other guys inside were all the same. Drunk, rich, and certainly not paying any attention to any of the girls that they had asked to come to this party. Eddie noticed a few others sitting on the den couch together silently.

He leaned into the bathroom door and rapped his knuckles against it gently,

“(y/n)? It’s Eddie, you in there?”

Without a second to catch his breath the door swung open and your arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He couldn’t get a good look at your face, but your eyes were swollen and your cheeks red. You must’ve been crying in there until he had come to get you.

“Please take me home…” You whispered up to him without even as much as looking at him.

His arm went around your shoulder to guide you out the door, your face looking down at the ground, shielding yourself from the smiling and snickering faces of the boys around you. Eddie could feel your arms grip him tighter as one of them said ‘Bye (y/n)’ in a mocking tone.

To say he was pissed would be the least of it.

Eddie slowly walked you out to the van, opening the passenger side door for you and helping you inside. He had finally noticed how put together you looked, how your makeup had been smeared down your cheeks from the tears, how your dress was bunched up at the end in your hands. He needed to know what the hell happened inside to not only cause you so much despair, but the other girls too.

He walked around to the drivers side and slammed his door, sitting there in silence for a moment before turning over to you,

“What happened in there (y/n)?” You could hear how concerned he was, but having to repeat the events from earlier would’ve made you break down again.

“Nothing… Just please, take me home…” You said quietly.

“No.” Eddie said angrily, grabbing your attention, “Tell me what happened.”

“Eddie please…”

“(y/n), the last time we talked today you stormed off so pissed at me it seemed like you never wanted to breathe the same air as me. You call me, sobbing, telling me to come get you at a place i know you’ve never been to. That house is full of drunk assholes and every other girl here is in the same position you are, meanwhile they’re all inside being buddy-buddy and having the time of their lives. What did they do to you?”

He needed to hear it from you that you were alright, but your silence was only scaring him more. Your eyes shut tight as you took a deep breath, a few stray tears falling down your cheeks as you thought over the last hour once more in your head. It was so difficult to say, but you knew Eddie wouldn’t leave you alone until he knew what the problem was.

“(y/n), please.” He was pleading with you to speak, “Did they hurt you? Did they… touch you?”

“No.” You whimpered.

“Tell me.” Eddie wasn’t asking, he was demanding. Not for your own good, but for those assholes inside.

You took one last deep breath, your head resting in your hand as your arm propped you up against the passenger side door.

“Everything was fine at first. That guy Chris, the one from the mall, picked me up and kept telling me about how it was gonna be such a great night.” You paused for an eye roll and a quick wipe away of the tears starting to pool in your eyes again, “All the guys inside already had their dates there, and they’re all super nice girls, and we all really got along so we were with each other having a good time while the guys were in the other room. They said they were getting the last big thing set up for all of us.” Eddie listened so intently on every word, giving you all the time you needed and as many breaks to sniffle or recollect your thoughts as you needed, “When they called us into that main dining room the table was set up and in the middle of the room…” You paused and shut your eyes tight, shaking your head in disbelief that something like that had actually been thought out and planned by those assholes, “there was a pig that had a crown on it and they tied a name tag to it that said ‘Michelle’. It was a pig party and i guess she was the ‘winner’.” You said with air quotes, looking out Eddie’s window and seeing her crying in the yard, quickly pointing over to her. “That’s her. She’s really nice, she’s a freshman studying Biochem at their college.”

To say Eddie was enraged would be the least of it.

How dare they humiliate not only you, but all those other girls they had invited. Eddie knew how excited you were about this, and he can’t imagine how all those other girls felt when you finally realized the real reason why they were invited. Not one of them deserved to be treated this way, and he was shocked to see how pretty all those girls were. They were people too, and no one deserves to feel that way.

Eddie peered out his window and saw Michelle and her friends start to calm her down. Each one of them was dressed up so nicely, their hair and makeup done. They must’ve been getting ready for hours for this, only to be shot down the moment they set foot through the door.

He’d handle this.

“I’ll be back.” He said through gritted teeth, quickly reaching over and grabbing something from the glovebox before slamming the door behind him.

“Eddie…” You said with concern, not wanting this to turn into another night where the cops were called, “Eddie.” You followed behind him quickly, leaving the van after him.

He turned to you and grabbed your shoulders,

“(y/n). I can handle this.” Eddie looked into your eyes, and you could sense that though he wanted to rip them a new one, he wasn’t going to end up in handcuffs by the end of the night, “Tell the other girls they can wait in the van, there should be enough seats, and just wait for me. Ok?”

You took a slow, deep breath, nodding your head as you glanced over to Michelle and the other girls on the lawn,

“Ok. I’m trusting you to not get yourself in trouble again.”

“I won’t.” Eddie flashed you a smile that told you all you needed to hear. He can take care of this.

You parted ways, you wandering over to the group of girls on the lawn as Eddie walked back up to the front door. Just as he was about to knock, the girls sitting on the sofa inside had gathered and made their way outside, flinching a bit as they saw Eddie at the door. He offered them a sympathetic smile as they walked over to you and the group of girls on the lawn. Eddie put on his game face, and he was thankful his over the top acting from DMing so many sessions would finally pay off.

“Hey!” He said with a smile to the same guy that answered the door for him, “(y/n) just told me all about this party,” He leaned in with a cheeky smile still on his face, “you were really able to pull this off that easily huh?”

“Yeah man!” He replied, obviously drunk, “And it was so easy too! Who are you by the way?”

“Oh, I’m Michael,” Eddie was quick to think up a fake name, “she called me to come pick her up but honestly… It’s too funny to not call up my friends and tell them about it.” Eddie laughed along with Chris, happy that his act was going over so well. “Can i use your phone man? The whole school needs to know about this.”

“Go ahead, in the kitchen,” Chris hiccuped as he pointed down the hall, “should be on the wall. Help yourself go this stuff too man, you’re welcome to stay.” Chris chuckled, “And you know, if you want, i can put in a good word with the head of the frat for you. We definitely could use someone like you here.”

Eddie nodded as a quick ‘thank you’ and wandered through the maze of other sloppy drunks to the kitchen phone. He recognized a few faces from a couple of deals he made over the summer, he was just hoping they didn’t recognize him. As Eddie entered the kitchen he could see the pig still in the dining room, the wooden plank with Michelle’s name on it was still hung around its neck. He was disgusted, but if he got this far, he knew the rest of the plan would work out.

Eddie took the phone off the handset and quickly dialed in Gareths number, hoping he wouldn’t take forever to pick up.

“Hello?” Gareth said, confused as to who could’ve been calling him this late.

“Hey, it’s Eddie. Call up the guys and be at the diner in 20.”

“What? Eddie, it’s like 9 o’clock at night, why?”

“I’ll explain when i get there. Something happened with (y/n) at that party, and now i’ve got a van full of girls that need some knights in shining armor.”

“Done. See you in 20.”

Eddie chuckled quietly to himself as he turned his body to the wall, making sure no one could see him punch in the number of Hawkins’ police station. They picked up on the first ring, and Eddie smiled as he placed his hand into his pocket, palming the baggie he took from the glovebox.

“Hawkins Police,” Eddie recognized the voice from his various encounters and adjusted himself to fix his voice, “what is your emergency?”

“Hi,” Eddie deepened his voice enough to make himself sound more grown up, maybe then they’d take it a little more seriously, “there’s a house just down the street from mine and they’re having some kind of party? They’re loud, they’re obnoxious, and to be frank, i wouldn’t be surprised if they were smoking some funny stuff in there too. There was smoke billowing out the upstairs window like a chimney!”

“Thank you sir, what’s the address?”

Eddie grinned wide and relayed the fraternity address back to the officer on the other end. For someone with a decent amount of run ins with them before, talking to the cops was a lot easier than he thought. Especially when he wasn’t the one in trouble.

He hung up the phone and cleared his throat, holding the baggie tight in his pocket to keep it secure as he glanced around to find the perfect hiding spot for it. As soon as he spotted one of the letterman jackets across the back of a chair he knew it was the perfect obvious spot for one of these idiots to stash a bag of weed. And enough to get them put away, at least for the night.

Eddie made himself seem so comfortable in there he figured they wouldn’t bat an eye if he had been wandering for a bit. He approached the jacket, passing the pig through the dining room as it lay underneath the table snoring away. It was so much easier than he thought it would’ve been.

Just as quickly as he came in, he made sure to get himself out of there quickly. Not before putting on his little act again as he said ‘goodbye’ to the few of them that were able to slur their words out as best as they could. With all the liquor they’ve had combined with that weed stashed in the pocket of whatever poor asshole the jacket belonged to, he was certain justice would be served. Rightfully this time.

Just before Eddie made his way out the door, Chris gave him a wave and called him over, clearly drunk. As badly as he wanted to leave, he had to keep this act up. Eddie wandered over to him with a smile on his face, grabbing Chris’ hand as he stuck it out for Eddie to take,

“Leaving? Already?”

“Yeah, i gotta get home,” Eddie groaned, “thanks for letting me use your phone, this’ll be all over the school by tomorrow.” He said with a laugh.

“Perfect.” Chris said with a smile, doing his best to keep his words clear, “And remember, if you want, i’ll put in a good word for you next year. Make sure they don’t go to hard on you with the hazing.” He said with a wink before patting Eddie on the back and going back to fill his solo cup.

Eddie nodded and swiftly made his way out the door, seeing the girls no longer on the lawn calmed his nerves a little bit. He glanced back to the house as he walked to the van, smiling big to you as he climbed into the drivers seat.

“Let’s get out of here, i called the cops so they should be here any minute.”

“Oh god, what did you do?” You groaned as he started up the van, you and the girls in the back rows of seats quickly buckling in. You made sure to warn them of Eddie driving the moment they stepped inside.

“You know,” Eddie shrugged as he made a quick u-turn to leave the subdivision, “left them a little parting gift hidden in one of their jackets.”

“You didn’t.” You couldn’t help the smile slowly tugging at your lips. Good, they deserved whatever they have coming to them. “Eddie, these are the girls .” You motioned to the group of six girls in the rows behind you, “Girls, this is Eddie. He’s gonna take us all home.” The other girls behind you offered kind smiles and quiet ‘hellos’ as Eddie smiled and nodded his head to them.

“Oh yeah, about that, change of plans.”

You snapped your head back to face him with a look of confusion on yours and the other girls faces,

“What do you mean?” You asked him, and he could hear the slight worry in your voice.

“I called some friends up, they’re gonna meet us at the diner. I know it’s not the fanciest place,” He glanced up in the rear view mirror to look at the girls in the back of the van, “but i feel bad for how those guys treated you back there. Besides, you all got dressed up and you look good, i didn’t want that to go to waste.”

The girls smiled to themselves, and even you were blushing at how sweet it was of Eddie to still make sure you had the best night that you could. Especially under the earlier circumstances.

The drive to the diner was short, and as Eddie pulled the van in you saw Gareth, Jeff and Grant leaned up against Jeff’s car in the parking lot. They had seen you from the passenger side and gave their usual smiles and waves, and you knew from the way they had looked more put together than normal that Eddie had to have mentioned there would be girls involved. They approached the van as Eddie put it into park and he quickly stepped out, rushing over to the other side to slide open the back door for the girls before opening the passenger door for you.

“Thank you.” You said with a smile as Eddie held his arm out to assist. You turned to the girls as they started to slowly make their way out of the van, “Girls, this is Jeff, Gareth and Grant,” You said as the boys approached the van with smiles on their faces as each one of the girls made their way out, “they’re friends of mine, they’re very nice.”

Each of the boys gave them a kind smile and the girls gave them one back, trying their best to make sure that they still looked good after being at that party. But they were excited to know that there were at least a few more nice guys out there, and with you vouching for them they knew that it would be so much better being around them than with those frat boys.

As you all slowly made your way inside, each of the boys with a girl on either side of them, you trailed back with Eddie as they all got more acquainted with one another.

“Hey,” You grabbed Eddie’s forearm and gently pulled him back, “thank you, for everything tonight. I know i was kind of bitchy at school today…”

“No, don’t apologize! I’m sorry for always being so pissy, i guess i just don’t know what comes over me whenever you mention stuff like that.” He shrugged, and though he knew exactly why he always acted that way, he didn’t want to drop it all on you at once. After the night you’d had, you needed something else on your mind.

“You know,” You say teasingly, taking a step closer, “i think it might be jealousy.”

“Jealous?” Eddie laughed, “(y/n), i’m not jealous.” You stared him down for a moment with a smile on your face, your arms crossing over your chest. Eddie knew when he was found out. “Ok, fine. Maybe i might be just a little bit jealous. Happy?” He smiled.

“Very.” You shrugged, taking one last step to close the gap between you two, planting a quick kiss onto his cheek, “Come on,” You grasped his arm and tugged it as you made your way to the door, “You can make it up to me with a milkshake.”

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson hurt/comfort

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munsonsmixtapes · 3 months ago

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Billy Doesn't Know

virgin!Eddie x experienced!fem!reader

summary: You and Billy have been hooking up and it isn't until you sleep with Eddie that you realize what you really like.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) grinding, sub!Eddie, dom!reader, Billy just generally being a dick but that’s not new, use of pet names all by reader (baby and good boy) hurt/no comfort

100% based on the song "Scotty Doesn't Know" by Lustra

part two

You pull up to Billy’s house, for some reason dreading seeing him. You don’t know why, though. You’re kind of over him and his attitude, but there’s something that keeps you coming back. You feel a pit forming in your stomach as you head up the steps to the house. You honestly feel so sick and you know exactly why. You’re becoming tired of Billy and the kind of guy he is and have wanted to break things off for a while. That’s the whole reason why you’re there, but you’re contemplating turning around and heading back home.

You’re scared to tell him the truth. You’re afraid of what he might do, especially when he finds out why you’re breaking things off with him. Not only is he a complete dick to not only you, but everyone around you, but you’ve also just gotten bored of him. Well, that and you’ve found someone else. Someone who you knew actually wanted to be with you, unlike Billy.

As soon as you knock on the door, it’s ripped open and you’re pushed against it just like always. You don’t even know what he’s doing, that’s not why you’re there and he knows it. His hand reaches for the buttons of your jeans anyway and you’re quick to stop him.

“Wait,” you put your hand on top of Billy’s, preventing him from going further. He pulls back to look at you, frustration clear on his face which isn’t uncommon for him. It seems like he always has some sort of stick up his ass.

“What,” he spits. There’s a fire in his eyes, and not the one you’re used to, this look is murderous and for once, you’re not scared. God forbid Bill doesn’t get what he wants for once.

“Can’t we just talk?” He lets out a laugh at that, moving away from you completely. Talk? The only kind of talking that Billy does is dirty talk.

“Talk,” he laughs harder. “We don’t talk. We either fuck or we don’t.” That’s something that bugs you about Billy. He never wants to just have a conversation like a normal person. He’s always quick to try to fuck you. And even when he does talk to you, it’s always got sexual undertones and you don’t like that. The more you think about it, the more you realize that he doesn’t really have any redeeming qualities. Sure, he’s stupidly hot and knows how to fuck, but that’s pretty much it. He doesn’t have anything else going for him and that’s so disappointing to you. He could do and be so much more, but he’s not and he won’t. He’ll just continue to be a pig for the rest of his life.

“Well, right now I don’t want to.” That strikes a nerve and you can see it. If there’s one thing that he hates is being told no. Especially when it comes to being denied sex. Because the only person Billy cares about is Billy. He’s way too in love with him to think that anyone could possibly hate him.

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?” He moves over to the back of the couch. He wants the word to hurt you, but it doesn’t. He’s called you that so many times that it’s lost all of its meaning.

“Well, so are you,” you retort and you swear you can see his lips twitch, wanting to say something but he holds back for whatever reason. “You can’t just make me fuck you, Billy.” He could, but he’s not going to do that. Because as much of an absolute dick Billy could be, he’d never fuck a woman without her consent.

“Get the fuck out,” he points to the door, but you’re still standing there, your arms crossed over your chest.

“Fine.” You turn to leave, but he speaks up before you can.

“Hey,” he says and you turn around, hoping for an apology, but you know you’re not going to get one.

“What,” you snap, angry at him for being mad at you since you didn’t do anything wrong. But Billy will say differently. Hell tell you that you should have just fucked him, but that makes you even more angry. Maybe one of these days you’ll actually have the guts to leave him for good.

“There’s a party at Nancy’s on Saturday and we’re going.” Billy is always wanting to crash people’s parties but that’s where you draw the line. No way are you letting him crash your friend’s party. And no way are you bringing him as your plus one. You’re going to this alone. And maybe you’ll fuck someone in the Wheeler’s guest bedroom just because you can.

“Nancy doesn’t like you.” Nancy really doesn’t like him. She even told you not to bring him.

“But she likes you and I’m your plus one.” You hate that he just claims things like that. Giving you no say in the matter. You don’t like being told what to do.

“You hate everyone who’s going to be there. You just want the free booze and to fuck someone in the Wheeler’s guest bedroom.” You’re right and Billy doesn’t like that you know him so well. He doesn’t like how close you’ve gotten. If he was in his right mind, he’d tell you that he didn’t want to see you anymore. And he should, but he doesn’t because he can’t.

“Right on the money, doll. You’re not as dumb as you look.” He’s told you the exact opposite on multiple occasions so now you know he’s just trying to get under your skin. He loves pissing you off. It always makes him unbelievably hard and now he’s going to have to rub one out when you leave.

“Fuck you, Billy.” He doesn’t like that the words sting as much as they do. They feel like a stab to the heart, especially since they’re coming from you. Especially since it’s his fault you’re acting like this.

“Oh, but you already have,” he winks, taking another drag. You should’ve known he was going to respond like that. He’s always thinking dirty. Sex is always on his mind. “Now get out.”

“Oh, so you can call one of your other hookups?” He won’t and you know that. He’ll just jack off to the thought of nothing but you.

“Yep,” he collapses onto the couch. “you’re boring me.” He takes another cigarette from his jacket pocket before lighting it and taking a drag. “I’ll just call Stacy or Jackie.” He blows the smoke into the air and you stand there, trying to not look so pissed off even though both know he’s full of shit.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just leave then.” You give him one last chance to make it up to you, but he seems pretty stubborn tonight.

“Good.” He doesn’t even bother to look up at you. “We’re done here.”

“Fine.” For once, you’re actually glad he’s kicking you out. You can’t stand to look at him anymore as all it does is make you angry.

“You’re getting the weed,” Billy tells you as he tosses a twenty dollar bill your way. Ever since the two of you had gotten close, you had been the designated person to buy the weed and whatever other drug Billy wanted for the party he was going to. You haven’t even actually been invited and he still expects you to help him out just because the two of you are sleeping together.

“Why me?” You asked as you stuff the cash into your bra even though you know exactly why.

“Because you’re hot.” It’s more than that, though. But you don’t want Billy to know exactly how Eddie feels about you. That will just create a mess and you don’t want to give Billy yet another reason to hate Eddie. “And that freak always sells it to you for significantly less than it’s worth.”

He’s already been calling him a freak just like the rest of Hawkins and you don’t understand why they’re all so horrible to him. He seems to just be misunderstood.

“Or it’s because Eddie doesn’t like you and refuses to sell to you because you’re a dick.” That’s very true, you had heard the words from the metal head himself and don’t blame him one bit for it.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he spits, standing from the couch and grabbing hold of your arm. It’s moments like this when you wonder why you’ve been spending so much time with him. You want to cut ties, but you’re scared of what will happen if you try. It’s not unlike Billy to get violent when things don’t go his way.

“Or what?” You spit back. “You know you won’t hurt me so I don’t even know why you try to threaten me.”

“The party’s at seven. Be ready. And wear something slutty.” You know exactly what’s going to happen next. Billy’s going to pick you up tomorrow and you’re going to act like nothing happened. That’s what you always do. You don’t have it in yourself to stay mad at him for long. Especially when he can be so sweet sometimes.

“I’m actually going alone.” You emphasize the word to piss him off but he couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. At least, that’s what he’s telling himself. “So have a good night, Billy. And while you’re falling asleep alone tonight, remember that this is your fault. It’s always your fucking fault.”

Really, the only reason why you’ve stuck around for so long was because of Max. She had become like a little sister to you and you felt the need to protect her from her older brother. You’ve seen just how horribly he’s treated her since he didn’t seem to mind yelling at her in front of you. Some days, you’ll come over just to spend time with her. When Billy’s at work, you’ll take her out for ice cream or shopping, just so she knows that she has someone who was on her side.

“Get out,” he says, letting go of your arm and pointing towards his front door. Of course you had angered him. It seems like he always has a temper of some sort. You know where it comes from, but still don’t think he deserves to treat you or anyone else like that. And you make sure to let him know that, not afraid to stand up to him if you have to.

“Gladly.” You head towards the door and pull it open, making sure to slam it once you go through it.

You mutter to yourself all the way to your car, even as you’re getting in it. Once inside, you turn on the ignition and the music from the station you had turned it to blasts through the speakers and you feel like your ears are ringing because of how loud it is.

Once the shock wears off, you turn the volume down and open your glove box, on the hunt for one of your mix tapes. Once you find one, you flip it over and notice that it has your name scrawled across it with the number three next to it in the messy handwriting you’ve become so familiar with.

You put it in and turn up the volume as you nod your head to the song, absentmindedly heading in the opposite direction of home. You don’t want to go there just yet. And before you know it, you’re pulling into the all too familiar trailer park, parking once you pull up to the trailer with the familiar van outside it.

You’re still angry at Billy so you’re not sure why you’re even there. You need to let off some steam, but you’re not sure that this is the place to do it. You’re not even sure that Eddie would be into what you’re thinking. He was just a friend after all and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by telling him that you wanted to fuck him nor the fact that you had been crushing on him for quite some time.

But you get out of the car anyway, heading to the door and knocking on it. A string of curse words can be heard from the other side, followed by a very loud “shit!” and a loud clatter. You step away from the door as it opens and there’s Eddie on the other side, dusting off his jeans while simultaneously looking like he’s out of breath.

“Are you okay?” You ask as you step closer to him, reaching out to touch him, but he backs away. He can’t let you do that without wanting more. He wants to kiss you, maybe even more. Definitely more, but he’s not going to do anything about it. He can’t. Not if he wants to keep you as a friend. And it’s not like you’d want to fuck Eddie “the freak” Munson anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just tripped.” He doesn’t want to tell you that he watched your car pull up from the window in his living room, hoping that you had been there for him even though he knows you aren’t. Because he’s just your dealer and nothing else. That’s all he ever is and that’s all he ever will be. It all just makes sense that way in his mind.

Eddie’s not the kind of guy people marry or date. He’s the kind of guy people fuck just to get it out of their systems then swear him to secrecy because they’re too embarrassed to tell anyone that they’ve actually fucked him. Not that he’s fucked anyone anyway. And it’s not by choice, it’s just-who would want to do all that with him? He’s a freak, a nobody in everyone’s eyes and he hates that he thinks that badly of himself but he can’t help it.

But if he’s being honest, though he’d never admit it, you’re the only one he’d want to be his first. He knows you’d be nothing but sweet and encouraging, but he’ll never bring the idea up to you. He can’t. It’s far too embarrassing and there’s no fucking way his shy, awkward self would ever get the guts to ask anyway. Not for lack of trying. He wants to, he wants to so badly, but how can he do that when everyone avoids him like the plague?

And he knows that you’ll run from the hills if you ask, terrified to ruin what the two of you have, your friendship having already become very important even though it had only been a few months. And he absolutely can’t risk losing the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He just can’t.

“Are you sure?” You ask, resting your hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze and Eddie swears he can feel the warmth of your skin through his shirt, hating himself because he’s wondering what they would feel like elsewhere-god, when had he become so needy for someone else in that department? His lotion, sock, and his hand usually did the trick, but now he kind of wants you to do it for him.

“I’m fine,” he steps away, fear very evident in those pretty brown eyes and now you’re really worried about him. You step closer and now you’re both in the kitchen and he’s backed up against the sink, really grateful that you can’t read his mind, because you surely would leave if you could.

Your hand reaches up and runs through his hair, giving his scalp a scratch and he leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he hums, loving the way it feels. He wants you to pull on it as he fucks into you hard and deep, the prettiest moans falling from your lips.

“What’s going on, baby?” You ask, your voice so soft and gentle and Eddie doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve someone as wonderful as you. “You’re not behaving like yourself.” He wants to lay it all out on the table right there, to tell you how crazy you’ve been driving him and just how often you’ve been the star of his late night fantasies, just how many wet dreams he’s had about you.

“I can’t tell you,” he says as his eyes open, turning his head to the side because he can’t look at your pretty face anymore, but your hands move to his cheeks, turning his head to face forward, but he still won’t look you in the eye.

“You can tell me,” you encourage, your voice still soft, trying your best to tread lightly. His eyes finally look into yours and you swear that his are misty. Your thumbs rub back and forth across his cheeks, trying your best to comfort him, trying to figure out what it is that he’s so upset about.

You press yourself against him and if you can feel his rock hard cock you don’t say anything. You just pull him into a hug, catching Eddie completely off guard but eventually, he wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your neck. He takes a deep breath and gets a whiff of your perfume that he immediately finds intoxicating.

You can hear him mumble something against your skin, but are entirely unsure what he had been saying, wanting him to repeat it. “What was that, baby?” You ask, your hand moving up to stroke his hair, but he doesn’t answer you, his face curling further into your neck as his hands crumple your shirt in his fists.

“You can tell me,” you assure him. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, especially not around me.”

He then pulls back to look at you, slowly, his embarrassment trying to take over but he chokes it down. He gulps then looks you right in the eyes, his boring into yours and now you’re on the edge of your seat, so interested in what he has to say.

“I-” he cuts himself off then takes a deep breath before starting again. “I want you to kiss me.” His voice is so low that you almost don’t hear him, but when you finally understand what he’s saying, you let out a laugh, and not because you thought it was funny but because you thought he was so goddamn adorable.

“You’re so cute,” you reply, your arms wrapping around his neck as you push yourself into him once again. “If you want to kiss me, then kiss me, baby.”

He stays quiet for a moment, pursing his lips as if he’s thinking. Then the words that follow truly shock you. “I don’t know how,” he says, his voice still small and god, you just want to pull him into your arms and hold them there forever in order to protect him. This was the guy that everyone was so afraid of? He was nothing but precious and you didn’t understand why the entirety of Hawkins seemed to hate him.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask in shock, moreso surprised that no one has wanted to kiss him. That’s something that isn’t computing in your head in any way shape or form. And thinking about the fact that he wants you to be his first warmes your heart. You’re nothing but honored.

“No,” he shakes his head before lowering it. You hate that he’s so embarrassed by it all. There’s no reason why he should be as everyone goes at their own pace and it’s not his fault that no one wants to kiss him. Well, no one except for you.

“Well I’d be honored to be your first,” you reply, watching those pretty brown eyes widen.

“You’d really kiss me?” He asks as if he can’t possibly conceptualize it. And he can’t. Up until now, everyone had made it clear that they wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole, that he’s a freak, that he’ll just end up alone.

“Of course I would,” you nod furiously, a wide grin on your face and Eddie’s convinced that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

“What if I suck?” It’s so cute that he cares so much, wanting to make the experience enjoyable for you.

“You won’t,” you assure him. “Because I’m going to teach you.”

“But what about Billy?” The name makes you freeze, your blood already simmering, but not quite to a boil yet. Why does he care so much about Billy?

“What about Billy, Eddie?” the words come out more harsh than you anticipate and you find yourself feeling guilty as he leans back, afraid.

“Aren’t you two together.” You let out a loud laugh as if you genuinely find the whole thing funny. You and Billy? Billy couldn’t be a boyfriend if his life depended on it. He’s told you as much more times than you can count and you’re beginning to wonder why you ever wanted him to be that in the first place.

“Not even close. We just fuck sometimes.” There’s a feeling rising in the pit of his stomach and he’s unsure what it is. All he knows is that he hates that Billy is able to get into your pants whenever he wants, especially acts like-well, Billy. What’s so special about him, anyway? Why does he get all the girls when he acts like an asshole? Is that why Eddie’s unable to get any? Because he’s too nice?

“So you’re not-”

“Completely unattached,” you cut him off, leaning forward so that your lips ghost over his, brushing against them and Eddie’s eyes flutter shut and you let him take the lead, wanting him to do whatever he wanted, wanting him to feel comfortable.

His lips press against yours gently in a featherlight peck as his hands move to hold onto your arms, feeling his hands shake against the sleeves of your shirt and your heart is about to burst as how absolutely adorable he is. You think he’s going to deepen it but he pulls away before you’re ready, his hands still shaking like leaves.

Your eyes open and you can see the pink in his cheeks, his lips parting as if he’s going to say something and you know he wants to. He always wants to speak and you think that’s your favorite thing about him. You love that he talks to you differently from his other friends. That he feels like he can tell you things he’s afraid to tell other people.

“How was that?” He asks, chewing on his bottom lip as you subconsciously twirl one of his curls around your pointer finger.

“That was perfect,” you respond with a soft smile and watch his eyebrows furrow in confusion. You don’t know why he’s so confused. Consent is so important to you and you’d never want to do anything that made him uncomfortable.

“Can I-” he licks his lips as he pulls you closer. “Can I try again?”

“Of course you can,” you nod and he leans forward, his hands still gripping your shirt as he pulls you in. His lips capture your bottom one and just when you think he’s going to go for it, he pauses, his eyes wide as it finally hits him what he’s doing.

You take the lead now, your lips moving against his still ones as he stays frozen, his shoulders locked up right by his ears. But as he slowly follows you, he finds himself melting into you, realizing that it’s not nearly as complicated as initially thought. In fact, it’s so easy, especially when you’re doing a lot of the work.

Your lips are just as soft as he was hoping and he wonders what they taste like, what flavor the sticky lip gloss you’re wearing is. But can’t get himself to go for it, not yet. He just wants to kiss you for now, not quite ready for a makeout session for yet.

You pull away before he’s ready and he feels his cock twitch when he sees your lip gloss smeared, knowing that he was the one to make it look like that. He goes in for more but you’re quick to put your free hand against his chest to hold him back.

“Hold on,” you say. “I just want to tell you a few things before we continue.” He nods and waits for you to speak again. “First off, you need to breathe, baby. Can’t have you passing out on me,” you giggle. “And I don’t know why you were so nervous before. You’re a natural.”

You watch his cheeks blush, that bright red color that always makes you want to pinch them. Before you can register what he’s doing, he’s on you again, this time more rough, his hands clutching onto your shirt for dear life as he kisses you stupid, making you feel dizzy.

Your hands slide into his hair as your tongue swipes along his bottom lip and he slowly opens up, letting you inside. It tangles with his and you hear a loud moan fall from his mouth, feeling yourself getting even more wet. You grab onto his shirt and pull him even closer to you, backing the two of you out of the kitchen as your kisses get even more heated.

Your lips taste like that artificial strawberry flavor and even though Eddie hates that flavor normally, he can’t get enough. It’s intoxicating and he needs more, his tongue sliding into your mouth as your lips wrap around it, giving it a suck, pulling another delicious moan from his mouth.

You find yourself in the living room, your hands moving into his hair, giving it a tug, causing his head to fall back, giving you a perfect opportunity to press your lips to his jaw, moan after moan tumbling from his mouth as his legs start to feel like jello, causing him to fall onto the couch. You can see his cock tenting in his pants and you feel your slick trickling down your leg as you thought about having him deep inside you.

Before you can stop yourself, you straddle his waist as your lips find his, your hands grabbing hold of his own as you move them to your hips, your hands sliding into his hair again as you fingers dig into his scalp, taking what you want from him as he’s pliant under your touch.

You begin to grind against him and Eddie swears that he’s died and gone to heaven. And when your mouth lands on his neck and your lips suck on it-god, he’s going to come right there. He can feel it. He’s gonna let you do this all night if you want to, addicted to the feeling of your mouth on his neck.

And he really does come when your teeth scrape along the sensitive spot, a loud moan falls from his lips as he orgasms for another person for the first time. And god is this so much better than all of the dates he’s had with his hand.

“That’s it, baby,” you coo. “Just like that. You’re doing so good.” He’s realizing now that he has a major praise kink, wanting, needing you to do more of that.

“More,” he whines as you continue to grind against him, and that mixed with how you’re scandalizing his neck is making him overstimulated, but he hardly cares. He’s so high off of his orgasm that he doesn’t give a single fuck. In fact, he’ll let you do whatever you want to him, knowing that you’ll be gentle and caring the whole time.

“Relax, baby. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, hm?” You pull away from him, your lip gloss smeared all across your face now. Eddie’s pupils are blown wide as he stares up at you, his head tilting to the side like a little puppy, giving you a full view of the hickey forming on his neck. “Gotta be a good boy for me if you want your treat.”

“I can be a good boy,” he nods furiously as his eyes get even wider, wanting to do whatever he can to please you. “I can be such a good boy you have no idea.”

You continue to grind against as his fingers dig into the stripe of skin that had been exposed by your shirt riding up. Your hands move to the button of his jeans and you look up at him, making sure that it’s okay if you continue.

“Do it,” he nods. “I trust you.” You can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth, but you have to be sure. You’d hate it if he was only telling you that because you wanted it.

“You really want me to be your first?” You asked, your grinding coming to a halt as you looked him in the eyes, leaning closer to see if he was lying out not.

“More than anything,” he replies, the words coming out more desperate than he intended, his eyes pleading as he looks up at you. They’re now filled with lust and now you know he’s telling the truth so your hands unbutton his jeans as he removes his shirt, his tattoos on display. God, he’s even hotter than you imagined.

You remove yourself from him as his pants come off while you take off your socks and shoes, moving slowly as you catch how he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you whole. And god do you want him to. To bury his head between thighs and eat you for dinner until the early morning so he could have you for breakfast and all the way to lunch and then for dinner again.

You then decide to give him a show, thinking that he’s earned a treat for being such a good boy. You begin stripping off your clothing as slowly as possible, starting with your pants, unzipping them then sliding them down your legs then tossing them to the side.

You then move on to your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swift motion before moving to stand in front of Eddie, pointing to the couch cushion.

“Lie back,” you tell him and he situates himself to lie against the cushions of the couch and you feel yourself getting soaked as straddle his waist, watching him underneath you. He’s so shy and cute and you feel honored that you’re the one he wants to take this big step with. “I just want you to know that just because you give consent doesn’t mean you can’t take it away. If I do something you don’t like or if you want to stop because you’re not ready. Don’t be shy to let me know. I want you to feel safe,” your hand reaches up and caresses his face. “I want you to feel comfortable.”

“I understand,” he nods. “I-I appreciate you being so gentle with me.”

“I’ll always be gentle with you,” you press a kiss to his lips. “Unless you as me not to,” you wink and swear you feel Eddie’s cock twitch against your cunt.

“Take it off for me, will you baby?” You ask and his hands move higher until they reach the back of your bra and you can tell he’s struggling but he eventually gets it, the bra falling between you, your tits on display. Eddie’s staring at them and you don’t have to ask to know what he’s thinking.

You remove yourself from him and hurry to your purse for a condom before taking off your panties and wait for him to do the same with his boxers. Once he’s fully naked, you can’t help but stare down at his cock, surprised by the sheer size of the thing. Who knew that Eddie Munon was packing? You certainly didn’t.

“You’re so big,” you say as your hand wraps around him and he lets out a gasp. “Think it’s all gonna fit?” You ask and Eddie just gulps. “I guess we’ll have to find out,” you smirk.

“Guess we will,” Eddie breathes and you let go of him, opening the condom and putting it on him before your hands rest on his shoulders as you get on top of him again, sinking slowly onto his cock, both of you letting out moans as you did so.

His hands move to your waist as you ride him slowly, not wanting to do too much too fast since it’s his first time. Yours had been nothing but perfect as it had been with Billy. You still remember it like it had just happened even though it had been over two years ago. He was nothing but rough, only wanting to fuck you because he was obsessed with taking your virginity. Like he had a point to prove. And in typical Billy fashion, he didn’t care in the slightest if you enjoyed it, only trying to fulfill his own sick fantasy and that was it.

But with Eddie, you wanted to make sure that it was something he enjoyed, something he looked back on fondly whenever it came to mind. And even if he didn’t enjoy it and asked you to stop, you still hoped it worked out with whoever he had his first time with.

He bucks his hips against yours and you can see on his face that he’s unsure if that’s what he’s supposed to be doing. But by the way you’re moaning and whining he thinks it is. He really doesn’t even know what he’s, just following what he had seen in movies and the occasional porn he had watched when he was sure that Wayne would be home late.

“That’s it baby,” you encourage. “Just like that, such a good boy.” Your words seem to unleash something in him because he’s bucking his hips as hard as he can, moving so fast that it’s hard for you to keep up. And it’s not because he wants to, not at all. It almost seemed like he had a point to prove, that he was trying to show you that he could do it hard.

“Hey, hey,” you push him against the cushions, trying to get his attention. “Slow down, hon. What’s your rush?”

“I just-” he cuts himself off, bringing himself back down onto the cushion, his eyes widening as he’s realized that he’s been caught. “I’m just trying to keep up with Billy, I guess.” He says the words lamely and his voice is so small that you swear you can hear your heart actually break.

“That’s what this is about? Eddie-” you try to gather your thoughts, one of your hands moving to stroke his hair. “Baby,” you sigh, lowering yourself onto him, resting your forehead against his. You feel a tear trail down your cheek and immediately wipe it away, not wanting him to see it, but he does anyway.

He wipes the other one that follows then pulls you in for a tender kiss, his hands moving up and down your back gently as a way to soothe you. You realize then that you’ve finally found someone who cares about you. That cares enough to try and fuck you the way that you like it.

“You’re so sweet,” you mumble against his lips before pulling away. “But that’s not how I like it.” Now you’re the one to shrink into yourself, feeling all of your feelings towards Billy piling up, eating away at you.

Your stomach twists and before you can stop yourself, you’re off of him, gathering your clothes and getting dressed at record speed, Eddie hurrying to do the same, but he can only be bothered to put on his boxers. He’s so confused and hurt that now he’s the one who’s crying. God, he’s fucked up again.

Eddie’s hot on your heels as you get to the door, snot now running down his nose because of how much he’s crying. Why is everyone always leaving him? He really thought you’d finally be the one to stick, but he guesses he’s wrong. You’re just going to go back to Billy. He knows what he’s doing, after all.

You hurry to your car and slam the door closed, hearing the mixtape he made for you blasting from the speakers. And just when he’s about to close the door, his eyes catch yours and even though he can’t see very well in the dark of the night, he swears that he can see you crying too.

He slams the door to his trailer shut then hurries to his room, making sure that door is closed as well before he throws himself onto his bed, throwing the covers over himself as he cries himself to sleep. He’s so hurt that that’s all he knows what to do when he feels pain. His dad always told him that crying was for pussies and now that he wasn’t around, he could cry as he damn well pleased.

So he stays like that for the rest of the night until he falls asleep, the events of the night replaying over and over as he tries to figure out what he had done wrong. He had done too much, that was for sure. He was just trying to do what he thought you liked and that caused you to leave. He had fucked up and fucked up bad. He knew that much. He was definitely going to remember his first time but not for the reasons he was hoping. He supposed that he really was just Eddie “the freak” Munson and that was something that would never change.

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