#stranger things hurt/comfort

[myosotisa]

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. 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, who 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 inbetween 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, before 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 in the enclosed space, but 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 you 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 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.”

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

[honeysuckleharringtons]

just steve harrington being so selfless and not taking time for himself melting into a puddle if the reader or you or y/n (idk which one to put 💀) just asked him if he was okay a lot (I do that 24/7, this is purely self indulgent) and the many times he said yeah and the one time he said no :(

i was originally gonna do a full fic style blurb on this but words have been very hard for me lately so i'm just gonna do a text post about this! hope you don't mind 🫶🏻

warnings: reader is sorta implied to be fem!reader, allusions to steve being treated not so well by his parents as a kid, part of this does mention some upside down violence, tiny mention of food, no use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

send me steve thoughts | ask box

I imagine the first time it happens is probably in gym class when you're younger.

You accidentally hit him right in his pretty lil face with a dodgeball ☹️

And Steve being Steve insists he's okay because "I get hit all the time in basketball and football. I've broken bones and nearly busted my teeth out. A lil dodgeball never hurt anyone."

But you can tell he's hurt.

Whether it's him that's hurt or his bruised ego, you can't really tell.

But some part of him was clearly hurt.

more under the cut!

The second time it happens is when you get paired together for a study group during senior year.

Steve struggles with a lot of subjects, but math is probably his worst.

And it's not like he doesn't want to get better, his parents just never sat down at the table and helped him with anything growing up, and when his nannies told his dad about his report cards, it didn't end very well ☹️

But math is the one he's always had the hardest time with.

So when the two of you get paired to study for the calculus final, you can almost immediately tell he's struggling to understand the questions on the example sheet.

At one point, he just kinda places his head in his hands and groans into his palms.

And you're just kinda like, "Hey, you okay?"

And again, Steve is never one to admit defeat.

"I'll be fine. Can you just help me with question four?"

Surprisingly though, after just a few nights of studying together, you become sort of reluctant allies.

He surprisingly excelled in human biology, which you did not. So, the two of you helped each other where you could.

And then it happened a third time, during the summer after you'd graduated.

Steve had had a rather unsuccessful time trying to flirt with the ladies that often came into Scoops Ahoy.

This day had been no different.

He'd really tried his hardest to get the beautiful ginger in front of you to go with him to the movies on Friday.

But she and her friends just moved along, double-scoop ice cream cones in hand, back to their shopping.

"You good?" you asked, nearly on the verge of laughing, as you stepped up to the counter.

"Oh, yeah, sure," he answered sarcastically. "Just a little bruise to my ego. That was definitely the first time any lady has turned down this beautiful face."

Part of you, though, was hurting. Hurting that, even though you were right in front of him, he'd never bothered to look at you that way.

The fourth time it happened, you really started to question everything you thought you knew about Steve.

Somehow, despite being back in town for a total of two days, you'd gotten roped into something to do with some evil dude named Vecna.

And for once, after everything you'd learned since arriving back in Hawkins for spring break, Steve was the one asking if you were okay.

Also for once, one of you was answering the question truthfully.

However, in the week that followed after, even in the midst of alternate dimensions and weird mutations of bats, you'd learned that Steve might have been causing his previous lady problems on purpose.

And when you saw the painful expression he sported as Nancy Wheeler was reunited with her boyfriend, your own heart shattered all over again.

Still, if there was one thing you were, it was a good friend to Steve.

So, you pulled him aside and asked those three little words.

Steve simply ran a hand through his disheveled hair with a slow nod.

But you could tell he was nearly at the point of breaking.

And the time when he finally answered truthfully, he really did break.

You'd drove with him to the hospital to check up on Max Mayfield, who somehow he'd became friends with despite the age difference.

The room was dead silent, other than the annoying buzzing coming from the lights.

You finally gave him a good once-over as he sat at Max's bedside—his messy hair, his pale face with newly acquired purple spots under his eyes, a small cut under his lip.

And for the first time since you'd known Steve, you watched as tears formed in his eyes.

You were quick to rush over to the other side of the bed, your hand splaying across his back and rubbing soft, small circles against his frame.

"Steve, I know this is a silly question to ask, because we both know the real answer, but seriously, are you okay?"

He knew he couldn't hide. Not any longer. So, he simply let the walls come down, croaking out a small, "No," through his flood of tears.

After crying into your shoulder and allowing himself to finally let go of everything he'd been holding in for all those years, he just simply held you.

Finally, after explaining everything—from the reason why he never told you about the Upside Down, to why he'd used Nancy and all those girls as a distraction from the person he really wanted—he just grabbed your face and kissed you. A sweet and tender kiss, not a desperate or lustful kiss, but a longing one—one he'd waited much too long to give you.

And somehow, even in the midst of all the bad stuff, even in the midst of Steve finally breaking, the two of you could finally find a way to maybe, just maybe, be okay for once. ❤️‍🩹

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @esoltis280

[maya-keery]

I am a "Steve Harrington is extremely sad truther" and let me explain.

I think Steve cares about people a lot more then people care about him. Not even talking about Nancy (she's a good example but there's others too)

For starters, the group treats him like he's dumb. And yeah, he's kinda behind sometimes, but they treat him like shit all the time. The older teens constantly dump the kids on him, and he loves the kids but it's understandable to want to be treated like an adult because he is one. They don't really treat him like he's changed.

And Eddie was the first person to not belittle him for not knowing something and he recognized that Steve isn't the same person that he was in s1.

Plus, everything that happened during Starcourt where he was TORTURED. Yeah, that man has some serious issues. He's sad.

DUFFER BROTHERS LET HIM BE SAD.

[mrshipsmcgee]

(might be triggering to some) What would Eddie do if he found out your parents were abusive to you after he takes off your shirt for the first time and notices old bruises and scars?

Anon, I love you. I’m here for you and I hope you are okay.

If you or anyone you know needs the number for the National Domestic Violence Hotline it is (800) 799-7233. Or you can text START to 88788

TW: scars and bruising from parental abuse

Sweet kisses turned into heavy petting and tongue kissing, giggling as delicate kisses down-the-neck become teeth grazing, open-mouthed kisses as Eddie’s calloused fingertips finally traced down and hook the hem of the bottom of your Iron Maiden t-shirt.

You pause.

Breath caught in your throat, panic festers in your gut.

Eddie’s warm eyes flicker as he licks his already drying lips. “What’s wrong?” He breathes as his hand moves from your shirt to your chin, thumb tenderly running over the curve of your jaw as he lays onto his forearm beside you. “We.. we don’t have to do anything-.”

“I want to,” you say plainly, nodding slightly - eyes locked with his. “I want you. I promise.. I just-,” your gaze falls away from his. “I don’t know if you’ll want to see what underneath.”

Eddie’s heart drops. He can hear the sorrow in your tone, “Show me.”

“What?” You choke, knowing somehow he had already figured you out.

Eddie sighs, sitting up onto his knees, high palms falling to high thighs, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Quickly discarding his shirt his sits before you, baring his chest to you.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, seeing the scarring down Eddie’s chest and abdomen. “What.. what happened?”

He points to the burns on his chest, “Pops did this thing when he’d get drunk.. he’d tell me he’d need to talk to me while he smoked his cigarettes…” his fingertips delicately caress the scars before his chocolate eyes meet yours. “Little me didn’t deserve that.”

The two of you stare at one another before you discard your shirt.

Eddie swallows back hot tears as he lets out a defeated sigh, his hand reaching out to ghost over the bruising.

“Who did this to you?” He grits his teeth. “Who hurt you?”

Tears fall down his flushed cheeks, “Who would do this to you?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it,” you say. “But… but here it is. You show me yours, I show you mine.”

Eddie reaches out to you, taking you in his arms as he whispers, “That’s okay, sweetheart. You can tell me when you’re ready.” He pulls you into his chest, his loving embrace cocooning you, “I’m going to take care of you.”

“Really?” You whisper.

“Really,” you can feel him smile, “I’ll keep you safe.”

[ali-r3n]

Take Five

Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Eddie has an Upside Down induced panic attack during a performance with Corroded Coffin

Based on this idea that I sent to @jadeylovesmarvelxo check out their story

Hurt/Comfort and Fluff

Eddie's fingers fumbled on the strings of his guitar as he played Master of Puppets with his band.

"Are you sure that you want to add that to the set list?" Y/N asked cuddled with her Metalhead boyfriend as he prepared for a show.

Since the events of Vecna, the Upside Down, and his near death experience with the Demobats, the group managed to go back to their somewhat usual lives. Eddie's band, Corroded Coffin, had started to develop a decent following and was able to afford performing at bigger venues than just the Hideout. Y/N was so proud of them, but she wasn't sure he was ready to revisit the song that he used as a distraction that fateful night.

He nodded. "Yeah. It'll be fine."

She didn't look convinced, but she dropped the conversation. The last thing she wanted was to rain on her beloved boyfriend's parade.

Cold sweat beaded on his skin as his chest felt tight. The crowd faded and was replaced with the darkness of the Upside Down.

His bandmates yelling his name and the crowd's confused murmurs fell on deaf ears, replaced with the screeching of Demobats.

Y/N noticed the far off look on his face from where she stood in the wings. Without hesitation, sh ran on stage to him. She cupped his pale, clammy face and ran her thumbs over the apples.

"Eddie, Baby. You're okay. You're safe. You're not in that place anymore, Baby. Come back to me, Eddie."

"Y-Y/N," he whimpered.

"I'm here."

"I can't breathe."

She took one of his ringed hands and placed it onto her chest.

"Its okay, Honey. Just breathe with me, okay?"

He nodded.

"Ready? One, Two, Three...Breathe in." She inhaled deeply which he mirrored. "One, Two, Three...Breathe out." She exhaled, he exhaled. "Again."

They repeated the process until the tightness in his chest eased and he calmed down. He closed his eyes which welled with tears. He ducked his head and buried his face into her shoulder. She hugged him and ran her fingers through his hair.

Eddie sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Baby," she reassured. "Do you want to keep going or take a break?"

"A break. I-I need a break."

"Okay." She looked over at his Bassist and mouthed 'take five'

He nodded and announced it to the audience as she led Eddie off the stage.

Eddie took a seat on the couch in the green room. He covered his face with his hands and doubled over.

Y/N grabbed a bottle of water for him and walked over to sit beside him.

"Fuck!" he groaned, his voice muffled by his palm. "It's been a year. I should be over this by now."

She placed a hand on his back and rubbed it to help comfort him.

"Eddie, there's no timeline for it. Healing isn't a race. Its a marathon."

He moved his hands and clasped them in his lap. "You don't think it makes me weak?"

"No Eddie. I think you are so strong. You are still your lovable, goofy, nerdy self while dealing with something so traumatic."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked over at her with wet eyes. "I don't feel strong."

"That's okay. You don't have to. Its okay to not be okay."

He curled into her and rested his head on her chest. Her steady heart beat comforting to me. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"I love you, Sweetheart."

Y/N pressed a kiss to his hair.

"I love you too, Ed."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie Munson Taglist:

@seros-bitch @eddiemunsons-girl @m-i-1-0 @lunar-flwr @winchester-angel @angelbbygrl @madnessismylover @cherrybean1116 @edwardjamesmunson @3ternalreal1ty

@meaganjm @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonsfavbitch @fangirling-4-ever @zzokks @mattymurdocksbitch @fillechatoyante @luvbug4728 @doll-in-the-walls @ches-86 @shenevertricks1831 @urlocalhippie2029 @celestair @ruinedbythehobbit @purple-storm

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad @livslifeonline

Stranger Things Taglist:

@valeriiecameron @maruushkka @rainbows-dreams @april-foolish

Stranger Things (Billy excluded) Taglist;

@sleepyhead1456

[sammy-is-not-smiley]

Report Card Reaction

Eddie Munson × gn!reader

Summary: When the sight of your report card causes you to spiral, a certain someone finds you and takes it upon himself to try and help.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: No use of (y/n), crying, stress, kind of a panic attack, mentions of physical abuse at home, mentions of overdrinking, pet names (sweets, baby, etc), language, hurt/comfort because it's all I think about, small bit of pining from Eds

A/N: You thought you could get rid of me that easily huh

It was the last miserable class of the day. At the end of it, you'd finally be free to go home. You were itching to close up in your room with a Coke and listen to that brand new music album you'd been waiting to come out for so long. Your mind was one tracked, that was until it was announced 10 minutes before the bell that your semester report cards would be passed out.

When you received yours, you were apprehensive to open the white envelope. Biting your thumb nail as you stared at it, the bell eventually rang and pulled you out of the classroom. Walking down the emptying hall, you finally sighed and decided to rip it open. You'd have to at some point, so might as well.

Everything looked fine as you stepped outside, As and Bs in a neat pattern… That is, until your eyes fell on your biology and physics grades. The letters stared back at you boldly, as if to point and laugh at you.

BIO: C+

PHYS: D

No. Hello no. Something had to have been calculated wrong, you tried so hard this semester. Your absolute best, in fact, and somehow it still hadn't been enough…

You could feel the anxiety bubbling up from your gut into your chest. Your hand squeezed into a fist when you realized your parents would be seeing the report too. Your father would be seeing it. If not from you, then from the copy that would come in the mail. Last time you had a grade this bad, your father had absolutely lost his shit in a drunken stupor. And this time, you had two grades gone bad, not just one.

Tears began to uncontrollably well up as your heart rate quickened painfully. Hastily, you scurried away from the other students and to a small alley between the high and middle school buildings. Your back slammed against the brick, as if you were trying to knock a sense of calm back into you before you lost it, but it didn't help. Tears spilled over and ran down your face without your consent, your breathing now going in and out in short bursts. You began to feel dizzy and let yourself slide down into a squat against the wall, hands covering your mouth in shame.

Some of the books you had held tumbled out of your lap and onto the sidewalk. You didn't try to catch them. Going home didn't feel like an option anymore. Not even for that new album. All you could imagine was how loud your father would yell, how many times he might push you into the wall or hit you in the head asking in a mock if you really are stupid. How hard he might squeeze your arm, or how much he might have drank that day if anything. There was no telling what could happen once you crossed the threshold and closed the door to that house tonight, and that scared the ever living shit out of you.

The circulating thoughts pushed more and more sobs out of you, the damn report card clutched tightly in hand at your side. You didn't know how long you stayed in that position, but you didn't care if you ended up spending the night there on the cold concrete.

The nearby exit out of your view eventually opened and you heard a group of boys emerge, laughing. Footsteps began to draw closer.

"Wheeler, get that new sheet to me by Friday or I'm coming for your a-" A tall figure was cut off as he sharply turned the corner and stumbled right over your books on the ground, narrowly missing you. "Ah, shit, sorry, sorry," He muttered as he turned around and began picking up your books, believing he had knocked them from you. It was then you looked up through your tears and recognized who it was: Eddie Munson.

Eddie looked up with an apologetic smile, offering your books when he froze, face now laced with concern. "Woah, what's wrong? You okay, sweets? Did I hurt you?"

Embarrassed, you shook your head and swiped your books from him, averting your gaze. "I'm fine," You managed to croak as you put your things next to you on the ground.

The boy rested a hand on his knee as he kneeled in front of you. "Okay well… don't take this the wrong way but you don't look fine."

You simply shook your head again in response, wiping your nose with your jacket sleeve. You could feel him staring but you still refused to meet his gaze.

He adjusted himself to sit cross-legged in front of you. "What's goin' on? You're not usually like this."

That made you look at him, confusion etched your brow. "Not usually?"

"Oh, well, you know…" He hesitated, beginning to fiddle with a front strand of his hair, eyes darting. "I have a few classes with you. You're not usually so… down… let alone like this."

You remembered him from your classes, but never once did you think he ever took note of you or your mood. The observation felt odd. A good kind of odd, but odd nonetheless.

You sniffled, looking down at your hands. "Good day gone bad," You muttered, fighting a new wave of tears.

He scooched slightly closer. "Hm. What made it bad?"

You looked down at your crumpled report card still in your hand and lazily, you held it out to him to see for himself.

He took it, straightening out the wrinkles before reading. "Hon, I don't see why you're-... oh."

You scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, oh."

His eyes darted back and forth from you to the page. "If it's any consolation, I've had my fair share of bad grades. They're not entirely the end of the world. Plus, it's only the first semester, you have time to bump those babies up, no problem." He attempted a hopeful smile. His eyes scrunched just slightly too cheery.

You shook your head. "Bad grades don't scare me… it's my fucking dad I'm scared of. When he sees those he'll-" You stop, having to stifle a small sob.

His hand shot up and squeezed your shoulder at the sight. "Hey, it's okay. Everything will be okay. What, does he take your door off from the hinges or something," He half jokes, attempting to lighten the mood. Only after he says it does he regret it.

Your face scrunched up and you wove your hands through your hair. "Worse. So, so much worse." You whisper through more tears and chattering teeth. They just won't stop flowing.

Eddie pauses a moment, then moves your books from your side to sit in their place, facing you. "Worse? Baby, how bad-" He stops himself, a thought occurring to him. "Does he like…. Does he... hit you?" He asks in almost a whisper. However, with how close he's leaning in, you hear it clearly.

In response, you cover your face with your hands, somehow managing to cry harder. Helplessly, you just give him a slow nod. You can't bring yourself to confess any further though, you doubt it would even come out coherent.

You hear him sigh as he leans back and stares down at your report card once more, as if he could will the grades to change themselves. He felt a familiar twinge in his chest, one that he felt when he first wanted to recruit Dustin and Mike into Hellfire. One he felt when Chrissy sat across from him with fear in her eyes. Empathy, he supposed it was. Or maybe he just saw himself in the kids, in Chrissy, even in you.

He turned, back to the wall, and drew you into him in an embrace.

Without thinking, you leaned yourself in, hands falling down and face pressed into his shirt.

Softly he drifted his hand over your arm, trying to soothe you down from the panic shaking your frame. He didn't even care that he felt your tears soak his shirt or that the brick was jabbing at his shoulder blade.

Eventually your body began to give out, hitting some sort of limit, and the tears began to slow. Your breath still violently hitched, but the sobs had subsided. Only then did you truly come to realize your position. Your were curled up in the soft clutch of the Freak of Hawkins High… Yet you found you couldn't have felt safer. His warmth, his smell, his voice… it was doing something.

Eddie waited patiently until you had calmed down a little more before he chose to speak again. "Hey, I have an idea…" He lawled his head to the side to look down at you. "You still with me, babe?"

"Mm-hm."

His lips twitched into a small smile. Your voice had been reduced down to the smallest and meekest he's ever heard it. While it broke his heart to see you like this, he couldn't help but think your response was cute. "What if… I came to your house to be there when you show your old man the report card, hm? That way maybe he doesn't react so bad."

Eddie knew he couldn't prevent whatever would happen once he left the house, but he wanted to at least get you home safe for the night and get the ice broken to your parents about your grades. Let the initial worst of it happen while he could be there to back you up. As badly as he wanted to just let you stay the night at his place, he knew it would only make things worse. If anything happened tonight after he left, then he could support you at school tomorrow. In fact, that's what he decided he would do from now until graduation. He knew the fear that could be instilled from a father, and he also knew what it was like to deal with it alone.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up from him and looked at him with confused, puffy eyes. "Bring you to my house?"

"Yeah, you know… uh say… we have some project together. And you need to give me something for it that you forgot to bring to school," He shrugs.

To his dismay, you fully sat up in front of him, wiping at your face with your sleeve. "Look, Eddie… no offense but have you seen you?" You knew Eddie wasn't as scary as he looked, but your parents certainly didn't know that. "They'll think I'm going to join a cult or something."

Eddie waved his hand. "Ah, old fake news anyway. Also, which is worse? Them seeing me or your grades?"

You chuckled and nodded, letting out a sigh. "Maybe you'll distract from the grades."

A smile spread over Eddie's face. "That's the spirit, baby. So it's a plan?"

You nodded again, "Yeah, it's a pl-" You jolt suddenly, glancing out to the parking lot, then to your watch. "Aw shit."

"What?"

"The busses," You groaned. "I freaked out so long I missed my bus."

"Oh, that's no problem," Eddie grunted as he began to stand. "Hitch a ride with me. Meshes well with the super special plan we brewed anyway." He smirked and held his hand out to help you up.

"You have a car?" You ask as you take his hand. He yanks you upright with ease.

He gathers your things from the ground. "Um, well, a van, but yeah. She's a beaut, you gotta see her." He smiled proudly, making you genuinely smile back. The sight makes him beam even brighter. "Come on, wanna get you home before dark." He takes your hand, carrying your books and report card for you, and leads you into the parking lot where a lone rusty van is parked.

This is not at all what you expected from this evening.

[little-annie]

All I Want | Ch6

Steddie | Little_Annie | Ao3

Ch.5 ⤵️

---

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.

---

[toomanybandstocare]

Hi!! Omg, happy birthday!! Happy one year anniversary!! Congrats on almost 300 follwers!! So many reasons to celebrate <3

Could I please get a romantic ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ - Summer of Fun?

I'm a straight female and my pronouns are she/her. I'm fairly introverted and it takes me a while to warm up to people. I love reading, my room is filled with stacks of books. I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, pulling harmless pranks, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything. I love helping out and people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'd consider myself really smart and I'm very ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I daydream a lot and I'm a hopeless romantic. I adore big and small romantic gestures and I love domesticity sm!! My love languages are acts of service and quality time.

Thank you very much! I hope you have a lovely day ❤️

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ - Summer of Fun

Who I would ship you with plus a little drabble. Anon requested a romantic pairing, but feel free to ask for another one if you'd like a different fandom! Thank you for celebrating with me <3

Pairing: Argyle x GN! Reader

Genre: Hurt / Comfort

Length: 861w + 158w

Counselor Notes: Feel free to grab an emoji if you'd like to keep chatting! I hope you enjoy :) I imagine this to be during college so timeskip.

-> Celebration Announcement Post <- -> Celebration Masterlist <- -> Camp Upside Down Masterlist <-

Summer heat sizzles when it hits the asphalt. Not a single car can be heard rolling down the street, and no one dares to go out for a late afternoon stroll. In a record heatwave, the city of Indianapolis has unofficially shut down for the day.

Your chest rises and falls with each strained breath, and you throw your arm over your eyes. Faint noises of insects humming and the thrum of ACs compose a melody with the heat’s fizz in the distance. The rickety fan from inside Argyle and Jonathan’s apartment can be heard alongside your boyfriend’s singing with the radio. Even though it would be much cooler inside, you lay on the pile of throw pillows and blankets on the screen-in porch and turn the page to your latest reading endeavor.

Immersed in the story’s world, everything else melts away from you. Summer’s heat hugs your skin like a faint memory. Your body no longer aches from the warped, wooden floorboards that seem to always make it uncomfortable to lounge on the pillow pile. The faint smell of Argyle’s scent comforts you from the oversized, stolen shirt you currently wear.

Coldness shoots down your spine from the metal can that caresses the back of your neck, and you flinch away. Argyle chuckles lightly as he offers you the Cola can before sitting next to you with his own. Glaring at him from the corner of your eye, you drop your book to rub the frozen patch warm again and take a sip of soda.

“Sorry, sunshine,” Argyle chuckles. He leans against one arm and lays on his side to face you.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true,” you mutter under your breath. Turning your focus back to the book, only a few seconds pass before Argyle fingers tap the edge of the cover.

“Can we talk?” Argyle softly requests. His usual confident tone barely comes through over the sudden tiredness that overcomes his voice.

Shutting the book without a second thought, you focus all your attention on your fidgeting boyfriend. Your heart hammers against your chest as all the possibilities whirl around your head. His hand rests on your thigh, and he taps his fingertips in an unbalanced cadence. “I’m here,” you softly encourage him. With one hand, you carefully card your fingers through his hair pulling a grateful hum from Argyle as his eyes flutter closed. “What do you want to talk about?”

“This is going to sound loaded coming from me, alright? So bare with me,” he warily explains. Argyle peers up at you with apprehension before he refocuses his gaze to the fringed blanket below him. Darting his tongue across his bottom lip, he continues: “Lately, I feel like you’re slipping away from me. It’s like you’re off in your own world, and I can’t follow you there. I love hearing about the adventures and ideas you come up with when you travel there, but you’re so far away from me. I feel like I’m being left behind even when we’re sitting next to each other”.

Your heart sinks. The soda can plunks onto the floor with a dull thunk when you move it out of the way to lay down as close to Argyle as you can. “I didn’t realize you felt that way, Argyle. I’m so sorry, pretty boy. When I’m with you, just being around you and relaxing in your apartment makes me feel at home. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t always present in the moment with you - well, that…that would be the issue isn’t it?”. A weak laugh escapes past your lips, and your shoulders relax as Argyle’s laughter mixes with your own.

“I’m glad you feel like this is your home,” Argyle softly replies. His fingers smooth over your thigh and lazily drag across you. “And I don’t mind at all if you slip into a daydream or a world of your own. I just miss you sometimes. Don’t leave me for too long, alright?” Argyle looks up with the most gentle expression. His tired gaze holds such adoration.

“I’ll always come home, Argyle,” you reassure him. One of your hands comes to gently cup his jaw, and you rub your thumb across his cheek bone. “And I’ll do better about being more present when we’re together,” you promise.

“Thank you. And I just want to be clear, I don’t want you to completely leave your daydreams. That’s not it at all. Just, sometimes, include me in it or meet me back in our shared reality, ya know?” Argyle moves his hand to gesture vaguely before it wraps around your waist to pull you into his chest. “I love you, and I love who you are. Don’t change a thing about yourself unless you want to, alright sunshine?”

“Promise,” you mumble into his chest. 

Relaxing into his embrace, you listen to his calming heartbeat. The two of you quietly chat about the end of summer plans as your hands wander and gently caress each other. Evening creeps across the sky and paints the sky in a beautiful sunset as the two of you get lost in your own world. Together.

You walk a very thin line between being grounded and keeping your head in the clouds. Which is an extremely beautiful mix of characteristics! It allows you to feel empathetic towards others while staying optimistic.

Argyle matches you perfectly. To the point where everyone would think you’re too similar. However, the two of you slowly fall into sync and move together as if you had known each for your whole lives.

Argyle is capable of balancing you out when you fall into your ambition and letting it get to you, but he all pulls you back to reality when you seem to be drifting away. He never makes you feel insecure or bad about it though.

If you ever feel like Argyle’s too distant, he will always be open to sit down and talk. He may seem like he’s only there for a laugh or quick to melt into relaxation, but not when it comes to your connection.

[wednesday-the-writer]

(not) Okay

Stranger Things | Steddie | One-shot, Hurt/Comfort | 960

@ wednesday-the-lover 2023, do not repost, modify or translate my work, carrd link

summary: Steve vists Eddie in the hospital, yearning ensues<3

requests/inspo: 'i just wanted to make sure you're okay.'

warnings: Wounds, swearing, mild sexual humour

a/n: ooooh the pressure, first fic posted on this account /hj

Okay was probably the last word Eddie Munson would use to describe his situation right now. He was hooked up to a bunch of wires and machines he didn’t even know the names of, his stomach hurt like a bitch and he was handcuffed to his hospital bed, and not in a fun way. A cop had been stationed at his door since he’d arrived, and how he’d arrived? He had no idea. The last thing he remembered was throbbing pain, demobats and blacking out in Dustin’s arms. 

“Hey, would you just let me through, man?” The sound of a scuffle sounded outside, it sounded like someone had been pushed against his door. 

“Only close relatives can go in at this time, sir,” the police officer said tiredly. 

“Would you just-”

“God, just let him in?” Eddie called out to the two. 

“Sorry sir, that’s not allowed,” the officer called back. 

“You have my permission, man, give him a break.”

“It’s protocol, sir. An permission from a murderer isn’t exactly reassuring.”

“SUSPECTED!” The voice on the other side yelled. “Suspected murderer.”

“Harrington,” Eddie muttered under his breath. “Sorry about that officer,” Eddie raised his voice again. “My uncle must have forgotten to tell you, he wanted to send Steve in to check up on me while he’s at work. He misses the visiting hours sometimes.”

“Is this true, sir?” 

“Yeah, yeah that’s true,” the panic sapped out of Steve’s voice.

The officer was silent for a few moments, “I suppose I could give you a few minutes.” 

There was a click as the door unlocked and a creak when it opened, and there stood the man himself - Steve Harrington. His hair was ruffled, greasy and unkempt - which was strange considering the amount of pride he took in it - and his outfit was far from his normal style; a black sweatshirt and dark grey jeans. To put it nicely, he was a mess. 

“What’s up, man?” Eddie was the first to break the awkward silence that had settled over the hospital room. 

“I… uh, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he shuffled awkwardly, eyeing the camera in the corner of the hospital room. 

“Never better!” The curly-haired man replied sarcastically. 

“What’s with those?” Steve motioned to the handcuffs that tied Eddie down to the bed. 

“Oh these?” Eddie shook his hands a little, making the metal clang against the bed frame. “I’m a felon, Harrington, they’re not exactly gonna let me run free. Just wish I was wearing them under better circumstances,” he lusted jokingly. 

“Keep it in your pants, Munson,” Steve dragged a plastic chair from the side of the room over to the bed. “So…” 

“So?”

The two held eye contact for a few drawn-out moments. Eddie’s mind went blank, focused on every detail of the eyes of the man in front of him. The intricate lines, the peanut brown colour with a ghostly pale green tinge to it, the way he squinted under the harsh hospital lighting. Eddie’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something else to focus on, the flutter of butterflies in his torn-up stomach filling him with anxious dread. 

“So, what have you been up to, man?” The bed-ridden boy asked blandly. 

“Oh, um, not much really,” Steve’s gaze turned to the floor. “Just helping out around town, lots of people are homeless from the, uh.. Earthquake.”

“That’s sweet man, that’s… real good of ya.” 

“Is it bad?” Steve cut to the chase, his eyes looking up at Eddie’s and then down to the man’s bandaged stomach, loosely covered by a black singlet. 

“Wish I knew,” he sighed. “Hurts like hell, but I haven’t seen it since.. Well, I haven’t seen it at all, really.” 

Steve scooted forward, his hands hovering over Eddie’s hips at the hem of his singlet, “May I?” 

“By all means.” 

Eddie’s heart jolted when he felt Steve’s fingers brush against his hips and lift up his shirt, folding it up over his chest. His fingertips traced over the bandages, finding the spot where the nurses had tucked in the end to stop it from unraveling and tugging it out, slowly undoing the bandage. He slid his hand under Eddie’s back and lifted him slightly, pulling the bandage out from underneath him and finally lifting up the bloodied dressing to reveal two large, nasty gashes. Steve’s mouth opened slightly, speechless.

“There’s some around my chest too, I can feel it,” Eddie stared up at the roof as he felt Steve lift his shirt a little more, tracing over the bandages there too but not removing them. 

Steve was silent as he took in the extent of Eddie’s wounds. Shallow scrapes on his face, paired with deeper ones that trickled down his neck, more scrapes and gashes over his arms, whatever the hell had happened to his chest and the two deep gashes on his stomach, plus whatever else there might be over the rest of his body. All the wounds still looked bloodied and wet, despite the few days since the incident.  

“Jesus christ…” Steve’s fingers ghosted over the wounds, not daring to touch them, just observing.

“Yeah,” Eddie bitterly stared up at the roof. “Not too hot now, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Steve said absent-mindedly. 

Eddie quietly examined Steve’s face to see if he was joking, but there was no lie in the man’s concentrated expression. Eddie’s heart softened a little, surprised that his childhood enemy was now turning into, well… something else. Steve’s hand landed on the bed, inches away from Eddie’s waist as the injured boy sucked in air fast, wishing Steve would move his hand even a centimeter closer. Maybe if he did, the boys would both feel a little more okay.

[imfinereallyy]

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.

[mothofmyth]

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.

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet

-> part two

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.

[caxde]

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 &lt;3

requests! are open

[munsonsmixtapes]

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 watch the movie or at least 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.

[munson-blurbs]

Rockstar!Eddie x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

Summary: Eddie's got a new girlfriend, which means you get put on the back burner indefinitely. But there's only so much you can take.

WC: 2.1k

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, rockstar!Eddie, takes place around 1989, drinking/tipsiness, Eddie is an idiot, kinda insecure!Reader

--

Lena was beautiful. 

There was no denying that. You’d seen how beautiful she was the night Eddie had picked her from the crowd, dark makeup and denim miniskirt that ended mid-thigh. She walked backstage like she owned the place, with a confidence you could only envy from afar. 

You were used to it: Eddie would find a groupie, they’d hook up for the night, and then she was all but forgotten as Corroded Coffin moved to their next tour destination.

But not Lena. She’d been around for the last six months. Always touching Eddie, kissing him, drawing him in with her gorgeous eyes. She was everything he wanted, and she knew it.

You tried to get along with her and get to know her; after all, she was your best friend’s girlfriend. You asked her to grab a cup of coffee, to hang out at the mall, to get your nails done at the salon. All three times, she’d turned you down with some half-hearted excuse. 

And now she was here, at your birthday party. Her legs were draped over Eddie’s as they sat on the couch, his arm around her and her fingers in his hair. All you could focus on was his smile, that same dopey grin he used to give to Chrissy Cunningham whenever she’d give him an iota of attention back in high school. 

Eddie Munson was smitten, and he had no intention of hiding his feelings.

You downed your drink, the harsh taste of vodka burning your throat, and quickly poured yourself another one. What was the saying? It’s my party, and I’ll drink myself into a stupor if I want to? Something like that.

“Hey, Birthday Girl. You okay?” Gareth spoke up, yanking you from your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized he was beside you. “I haven’t seen you drink this much since the Grammys afterparty.”

You nodded, your head heavy with tears and liquor and lies. “Fine. Just…tired.”

Gareth scoffed. “Tired of watching Eddie and Lena tonguing each other, you mean?” Your wince betrayed your indifferent facade, and Gareth laughed softly. “Yeah, me, too.” He took a swig of his own drink and continued. “I mean, I get it. She’s hot as hell, but she’s also kinda–”

“Bitchy?” The word escaped you before you could stop it, another effect of the booze.

“You said it, not me.” Gareth raised his cup in a pseudo-toast. “But, yeah. Tour went from being about the band to being the Lena Show. And if you try to push back even a little, she just pouts and whines to Eddie that we’re being mean to her.”

You rolled your eyes. There was a freedom that came with confiding in Gareth, with no longer having to keep your feelings to yourself. “He used to call me at least once a week,” you say of Eddie, “and I figured that would change once he got a girlfriend. But the last time he called me was…two months ago.”

Could you even count that? It was just Eddie saying that the tour was good and that he’d be at your party–with Lena, of course. No silly stories from the road, no play-by-play of the shows, no begging for you to come see them again soon. It was as if you’d been a temporary placeholder until a better option came along.

And now, here she was, leaving red lipstick marks on his cheek. Staking her claim.

Eddie was never yours–not like that. Not in the way you wanted him to be yours. You’d been best friends since high school, and your crush had only blossomed from there. You were drawn to him the moment you saw him command the room during Hellfire, crafting and weaving a tale of a fantastical world with magnificent and terrifying creatures. It was as though you could see it right in front of you.

That storytelling talent extended to his songwriting. Sure, some of the songs were about the heartbreak that comes with being a teenager, but so many others were rooted in big problems: war, poverty, and the general injustices of the world. You were in awe of the way his eyes saw beyond the tiny borders of Hawkins.

Gareth slung an arm around you and pulled you close. Though you’d never told him about your crush on Eddie, he knew. All of Corroded Coffin knew—and probably all of the old Hellfire crew, too. Everyone but Eddie. 

“It’ll be okay,” Gareth murmured. “He’s an idiot. He’s always been an idiot, but with her, it’s amped up. Stupidity on steroids.”

You laughed at that despite the sadness brewing within you.

“Go enjoy your party. You deserve it.”

Heeding his advice, you pried yourself from the kitchen counter and over to some of the other guests. You managed to have fun, pushing away the nagging reminder of heartbreak just feet away. It got easier as the night went on—until it didn’t. 

“Baby,” you heard Lena whine. “This party sucks. I wanna go back to the hotel.”

Say no, you silently willed Eddie. Tell her that you want to stay. Tell her that she can leave, but you’re going to stick around and—

“Yeah, babe. We can go.”

Five words that anchored a pit in your stomach. He didn’t even consider an alternative option. Lena was his only priority. 

You blinked back the tears in your eyes as he said his half-hearted goodbye. Lena stood behind him, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Super fun party,” she drawled, donning a saccharine smile. “So sorry we have to leave early.” With that, she grabbed Eddie’s hand and led him out of your apartment. 

The rest of the night was a blur. Even as you ate birthday cake and talked with other guests, your focus stayed on the remnants of your friendship with Eddie. Of course dynamics changed when friends got partners. But to be completely iced out? That couldn’t be normal. It shouldn’t be normal.

You decided that night that you were done. The friendship was already beyond repair. It wasn’t Lena’s fault, though it would be much easier to blame her and keep pretending that Eddie was still the same thoughtful guy from Hawkins High. No, Eddie was the problem, and the solution was letting him go.

Weeks went by, then months, with no word from Eddie. The first few days hurt, your heart still convinced that he’d call and apologize for bailing on the rest of your party. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ that might spark a flicker of hope.

It got easier after a while. You filled your days with work and friends. When you heard a Corroded Coffin song on the radio, you simply changed the station without tears falling. And when Entertainment Tonight declared that “a young woman previously linked to Corroded Coffin frontman Eddie Munson was spotting cozying up to a more popular band’s lead singer,” you only chuckled and snapped off the TV.

The first call came a week later when you were at work. Your answering machine button flashed red, and you pressed play to hear the new message.

Hey, um, it’s me.

You froze, your blood icing over in your veins.

I know it’s been a while, but…a lot has happened. And I’ve been thinking, and I really wanna see you. Talk to you. I miss you. Um, the tour just finished, so I’ll be back in Hawkins. Let me know when you’re around.

Absolutely not. There was no way you’d talk to him again, and you finalized that decision by erasing the message.

But two days later, there was another one.

Hey, it’s me again. I was talking to Gareth, and he told me that I royally fucked up. Which I kinda knew, but hearing it from him…yeah.

Anyway, um, I don’t wanna just hang out–I mean, I do, but I wanna apologize first. In person, i-if that’s okay. I think my first message made it sound like, ‘Hey, let’s go grab a drink and bullshit around,’ but I want to say that I’m sorry. Shit, I’m rambling. Okay, I’m gonna go now. Bye.

And then another the day after that.

Okay, so, you don’t wanna meet up in person, and I get that. But I still want you to know how sorry I am, so I’ll just say it here, I guess. I never should have pushed you aside like that. I got caught up in everything with the band and the tour and…and her, and…y’know. That’s not an excuse or anything, just…explaining my series of fuck-ups. I miss you so much, and I wish we could just be friends again. I know it’s not that easy, but…fuck, I fucked this up. I’m really sorry, and you don’t have to forgive me–shit, Wayne’s home. I’ll talk to you later. Or, um, talk to your voicemail, I guess.

Wayne was home. That meant that Eddie was twenty minutes away from you, leaving voicemails from his uncle’s trailer. You grabbed your jacket, willing yourself to stay focused on the road as you drove to Forest Hills. That asshole wanted to talk to you in person, but couldn’t even stammer out a genuine apology over the phone?

You knocked on the trailer door so hard that your knuckles ached by the time Eddie opened it.

“Wha–did you get my messages?” His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you standing before him.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “You mean the ones with your half-assed apologies? Yeah, I got ‘em.”

Eddie took a step back. “No, no, I meant them. I really am sorry.”

“Convenient how you found time to be sorry once your girlfriend started fucking someone else,” you seethed. “Couldn’t squeeze out a minute to call after you ditched me on my birthday, but you’ve got plenty of time to grovel now.”

“That’s not–she wasn’t good for me,” he supplied lamely.

You couldn’t help the snort you let out. “What, did she hold the phone hostage? Did she pick you up and carry you out of my party? You,” you jabbed your forefinger into his chest, “are the reason we don’t talk. Not her.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” You snapped. “Because I have a feeling that you think this is on Lena. And maybe she didn’t help, but she certainly didn’t force you to be a shitty friend.”

Eddie rubbed his palm over his eyes. “I know,” he repeated, the frustration evident in his tone. “I…I was a shitty friend. I never should have left your party early, and I should’ve stayed in touch with you. I should’ve listened to the guys when they warned me that you wouldn’t keep putting up with my bullshit for much longer.”

You felt a spark of reassurance that the other band members had stood up for you, but you kept your attention on what you needed to say. What you needed him to hear.

“And now what? You’re back in Hawkins, no groupies around to keep you company, so you figure it’s a good time to reach out to me?” You stepped closer to him as you spoke. “I’m not your back-up plan when your life comes crashing down. I’m a goddamn person, Eddie! And you just threw me away like our friendship meant nothing to you.”

He was silent for a few moments, his sweat sock-covered foot grinding into the carpet. His hair fell in front of his face, but you could still see him chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considered his next words.

“Gareth told me…he told me that you liked me,” Eddie said softly. “Like…more than just a friend.” With trepidation, he looked into your eyes, tears forming in his own. “And he said I’m an idiot for not seeing what was in front of my face the whole time. A really beautiful woman who has always been there for me. Who never gave up on me, whether I was playing to five drunks at the Hideout or to sold-out stadium crowds.”

“Right. All of the things I’ve done for you. But what have you done for me? How have you been my friend?” You waited for him to respond, but he said nothing. “Exactly. I was just a groupie you never fucked.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of pride wash over you at his utter shock. “I’m–”

“I know you’re sorry. I got it.” You pivoted on one heel and turned your back to him, starting towards your car. Before you got there, you called out over your shoulder. “And if you leave me another pathetic voicemail, I’ll throw my answering machine through your window.”

Then you drove off, leaving him standing where you left him, just as alone as you’d felt all this time.

--

[helpimstuckposting]

I love a good fwb steddie fic where one of them thinks they’re dating and one of them thinks it’s just casual but I could also get behind a fwb steddie fic where they both think it’s casual and there’s zero misunderstanding between them but then they realize it’s been like five years, they live together, they have a cat together, they kiss and go out together, and they both just look at each other like????? Wait are we dating???? When did we start dating????? And they’re idiots but they’re in love your honor