#what do you think is eddie actually there as a ghost or is it just in steve's head?

[steddiehyperfixation]

wishful thinking

@steddie-spooktober day 12: graveyard | 1,058 words | T | canon compliant

“Hey, Eddie. Sorry Dustin couldn’t be here, you’re stuck with me today,” Steve says as he crouches down in front of Eddie’s gravestone. “Hope that’s alright.” 

Dustin usually comes by about once a week to clean the hate speech off, but he’s on vacation with his family right now, so Steve took it on himself to take up the mantle this week. It’s covered in slurs this time, angry red spray paint scrawled over a headstone that wishfully asserts that Eddie is ‘finally at peace.’ Bullshit, that. The graffiti and the headstone. How can he be at peace when all those witch-hunting dickheads are still stomping all over his grave? “I guess we don’t really give you much peace either though,” Steve muses aloud. “The kids visit you so much. Your uncle too. Kind of crazy - for all the hate you got, you were loved just as much too. Don’t know if that makes you feel better or anything.”  

He sighs, dunking a rag in a bucket of soapy water and beginning to scrub the paint off the gravestone. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, it’s not like you can hear me, wherever you are,” he says, though he still continues to talk regardless. It gives him something to do while he works. “I know Dustin talks to you a lot too. He says when he does he almost feels like you’re actually here, like you’re listening to him, sitting with him. He says that he imagines you responding to him, swears up and down that sometimes he really does hear you answering. But I know it’s just his imagination, wishful thinking. I think he knows that too. He just misses you. You dying really hit him hard, you know.” 

For all the years of crazy Upside-Down shit they’ve been through, Dustin had never lost someone so close to him before. It hardened something in him, left a hollow behind his eyes and an anger and cynicism in them that hadn’t been there before. Steve worries about that kid now more than ever. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not really there, that you can’t see the way he’s changed,” he tells Eddie’s grave. “I think it would just depress you. It depresses me. But, I don’t know, sometimes when he talks about how he thinks he can feel your presence here some of that old hope and light returns to his eyes. So maybe it’d actually be better if you really were still hanging around, if it’s not just in his imagination.”

He shrugs. “And maybe you are. Who knows, the world we live in these days. It’d make sense, I guess, that your spirit or whatever might come back down here for Dustin. You guys had that, like, nerd bond. Not for me though.” He huffs out a dry laugh and re-wets his cleaning rag. “Either way, I’m still just an idiot talking to myself in a graveyard. There’s no reason you’d come here for me. It’s not like we were really friends. We barely knew each other, we just went through the week from hell together and then you died.” 

He frowns as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn line of graffiti and he falls briefly quiet, chewing at his lip. His silence is more pensive than focused, old thoughts now swirled up to the surface in his mind.

“I think we could’ve been, though,” he says after a moment, “friends, I mean. If I’d’ve gotten the chance to know you better. If we’d had more time. We- maybe we could’ve even-” Steve falters, unable to speak aloud what he’s really thinking, not while he’s scraping off slurs that might be hurled at him next if anyone heard. He can’t say that that moment in the stolen camper van when Eddie leaned into his space and called him ‘big boy’ had made something strange and new slither in his stomach and warm his blood. He can’t say how he wishes they could’ve gotten the chance to explore that, all the things it made him wonder about. Instead he settles on, “I think I could’ve learned a lot from you…”

If Steve really wanted to torture himself he’d give into his imagination, picture Eddie standing beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder and replying We could’ve, like he knows everything Steve’s not saying and feels the same. Steve can practically feel the touch, hear his voice, could just about convince himself of it if he was enough of a masochist to. He has to glance at his shoulder, has to put his own hand there just to check for sure, to remind himself that there’s no one there. It’s just wishful thinking. He shakes his head and returns his attention to the headstone. 

His throat feels tight. “You shouldn’t have died, man,” he mutters. “You just shouldn’t have. I told you- I told you 'don't try to be cute or be a hero,’ didn't I? But you did it anyways. You did anyways and now look at you. Being dead isn't cute, Eddie, it just isn't.” 

Steve's voice cracks, eyes stinging. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids. He needs to pull himself together. He didn't come here to bare his soul to a chunk of stone for some guy he honestly didn't really know. What ifs don't mean shit to the dead; it's only the living they haunt. It’s only himself who’s here to hear it.

“Well,” he exhales heavily, swallowing down his emotion. He scrubs off the last remaining paint from the stone and sits back on his heels. “At least your grave is all shiny and clean now. That’s something, right? You’re welcome, by the way. My work here is done.” Collecting his cleaning supplies, he gets to his feet, hesitating for a second. Silly as it sounds, he feels like he should say some sort of goodbye before he heads off, like it would be rude not to. “I’ll, uh-” He pats the top of the gravestone, only a little awkwardly. “I’ll see you around, Munson.” 

As he turns to leave, Steve could almost swear this time he really does hear Eddie’s voice, a whispery echo following him from the graveyard. See ya, Stevie. Don't be a stranger.

[hello-sweetheart]

Spirit medium! Steve

Guys, it’s almost Halloween (I say in March) so I was thinking of Steve being a medium but not really knowing. He works completely on vibes alone and just never questions them.

This, of course, concerns Eddie who, despite his dark aesthetic, really does not fuck with the paranormal. He’s Appalachian, the general rule is: if you see something, no you didn’t.

It starts with something small and more confusing than creepy. Quirky even! Eddie takes Steve with him to the thrift—more like Steve has latched himself onto Eddie and now each time Eddie runs the most mundane of tasks like looking for winter coat, Steve insists on coming—and Steve drifts from his side over to the shelves of trinkets to closely inspect a small doll.

It’s tiny, palm sized, and would be cute if Eddie didn’t have an innate fear of porcelain dolls. Steve picks it up and follows Eddie around for 30minutes and all the way to the register with the thing where he proceeds to purchase it for 50 cents.

“Dude, why?”

“I just like it. She’s cool.” Note, Steve says this as he places the tiny doll in is shirt pocket, it’s creepy little face peaking out.

Eddie laughs, thinks Steve is trying to be silly. “So what are you gonna name it then?”

“Why would I name her, she already has a name. Her names Felicity and she’s an old woman, really sweet actually, used to be a teacher.”

“Okay??” Whatever, maybe robins eccentricities and imagination is rubbing off on him.

Except the next time Eddie visits Steve, the thing—Felicity—is perched on the kitchen window sill, staring out into the yard.

“So what’s she doing here?” Eddie is hovering by the door of the kitchen like a nervous dog. He did NOT expect to have another encounter with the doll.

“She likes to look at the birds.”

“The doll, likes birdwatching.” Steve kicks his shoe.

“Don’t be rude.”

At this point Eddie is throughly creeped out and just nervously laughs. He quickly and awkwardly offers a “sorry ma’am” towards the doll just in case and walks out of the kitchen.

Eddie brings this up one day with Robin who just makes it worse.

“Oh yeah, that’s just Steve’s thing. I think he can tell when stuff is haunted or something, it’s really eerie actually. I try not to think about it.”

“You believe in ghosts?” Eddie is judging hard.

“I saw a monster made out of melted people parts, Eddie. At this point, the paranormal may as well exist.” Fair.

“So you don’t mind that Steve just has a doll around in the kitchen?”

“Felicity is pretty chill, actually. Not like— Steve brought home an old teacup one day, said he feels like it belonged to a little girl named Debra. Except he kept it in sunroom and suddenly the room felt really fucking weird all the time. Like your being watched, you know?”

“Sure.”

“Anyways, one day it was just gone, I noticed cuz the room felt lighter somehow, and Steve said he had to get rid of it cuz he didn’t like that Debra gave him nightmares.”

“What the fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Felicity hasn’t done anything freaky though, so I guess she’s alright.”

Eddie does not like this little hobby thing—whatever you can fuckin call it. He doesn’t like Felicity, he doesn’t like how Steve will sometimes seemingly name random objects, and he certainly does not like how Steve doesn’t even seem to think that any of it is weird.

But Eddie likes Steve, like-likes Steve, so Eddie has learned to deal with Felicity, and Bernard (this chewed up looking teddy bear that sits on the bookshelf that apparently does not like when people don’t use their inside voices, and Cherry.

(Cherry being a mug that used to belong to Wayne, but when Steve came over and pointed to it, said Cherry liked that mug because it was from one of her favorite places on her last roadtrip, Wayne just took it down from where it hung on the wall and gave it to Steve without a word. Steve looked absolutely stoked. Neither Wayne nor Eddie have brought it up, and it’s unlikely they ever will.)

[blueberrylemontea-fanfic]

Persuasion check

Pairing: Steddie

Plot: Steve flirts with Eddie while playing D&D, Eddie's brain shortcircuits. Based on one of those 'tested the rizz on my friends' videos.

Eddie made it a point for his NPCs to flirt with Steve mercilessly, ever since Steve had joined their D&D sessions. Steve hadn't even been playing at first, he'd just been sitting next to Eddie -as per Eddie's explicit request, but tell Steve that and the consequences will be dire-, watching the gang play.

And yet, when it came time for Eddie's bard named Lennox to try and enchant the gang with song, he'd turned to Steve, said: "Excuse me, darling," and wrapped his arm around Steve's shoulders as he serenaded him softly. "Thanks, dear," he'd winked afterwards. "You really enhanced the experience."

Since then, Eddie always seemed to find a way to include flirting with Steve into his storylines.

Steve thought very little of this. He seemed to be under the impression that Eddie was like that with everyone. He was right to an extent, of course, but everyone else could see that Eddie acted differently around Steve. Everyone knew Eddie was head-over-heels for Steve. Well, except for Steve, that is.

It bothered Eddie to no end that Steve was never so much as flustered by his ministrations. He could get a rise out of anyone, and here was King Steve, of all people, completely unbothered when Eddie rubbed himself against him in the name of roleplaying.

It had been months.

Eddie's flirtations had become increasingly bold and blatant, and Steve, who had since joined the party in playing, still seemed entirely clueless.

He'd catch on soon enough, though.

The party was over at Steve's house, playing. The lights were dimmed and Eddie was perched on his throne -or at least the mightiest looking chair he could find.

"I scan the building for an alternative entrance," Gareth ventured, trying to circumvent the guard that was currently blocking their entrance.

"Roll a perception check."

They all awaited with bated breath as Gareth's D20 hit the table. Gareth cursed, the party sighed. A three.

"You peek your head out from behind the wall, but you are instantly blinded by the sun so badly that you stumble backwards and fall on your ass. You're lucky no one heard you."

"We're just gonna have to get past the guard," Lucas chimed in. "Let's just go talk to him."

The party walked up to the guard, quietly thinking of what to say.

"I try to charm the guard." Steve said suddenly.

Eddie's brow furrowed ever so slightly. "Alright, and how do you do that?"

Steve's arm shot out in front of him, pointing behind Eddie's head. "Look, over there!"

Instinctively, Eddie looked behind him. That's when Steve's index finger traced along his jawline and turned his head back to face him.

Eddie was speechless. Truly, completely, uncharacteristically speechless.

Steve's finger was still holding up his head, their faces a whole lot closer together than Eddie remembered, and now he was just staring at that charming, cocky smile.

Steve seemed taller, somehow, and he was still utterly calm and collected. His thumb trailed over Eddie's jawline, down his throat, as he watched Eddie squirm in his grip, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

Steve moved even closer to Eddie, his breath ghosting over his earlobe. "Evening, beautiful. How you doing tonight?"

Eddie could feel his heart constricting in his throat. There wasn't a singular thought left in his brain that didn't involve Steve's skin against his and he couldn't get himself to respond. Not even the knowledge that his entire party was watching him embarrass himself could snap him back into reality.

Steve hadn't meant to do this. He'd simply, genuinely, been trying to roleplay, the way Eddie always did. He'd never in his wildest dreams thought that Eddie would react like this, but suddenly everything clicked into place. Eddie actually liked him. And he wanted Steve to kiss him right now, really badly.

Steve caught Eddie's bewildered eyes, a sudden heat rising up in him. "Session's over," he spoke gruffly, holding Eddie's gaze.

"What? Steve, what the hell?"

"Session's over." Steve's voice was unexpectedly forceful, commanding.

With surprisingly little pushback and even more surprising speed, the party packed their things and rushed out the door, leaving Steve and Eddie on their own.

They hadn't moved in all that time, Steve's hand still holding up Eddie's face.

Steve held Eddie's wistful look for just one more moment. Then, he pulled Eddie's face up to collide with his.

The kiss was heated, both of them losing themselves in it. Steve's hands on Eddie's face set Eddie on fire. He slunk out of his own chair, immediately crawling into Steve's lap just to get closer to him. His hand rested in the space between them, firmly pushed up against Steve's stomach.

A strong hand on the small of his back pushed Eddie flush against Steve, who impulsively bucked his hips up at the feeling of Eddie's body so fully against him. Eddie let his head fall back, a small moan escaping him at the feeling of Steve between his legs.

And just like that, they came back down to earth, catching each other's eyes, breath heaving in their chests. Eddie looked at Steve sheepishly, uncertain, but Steve's giant, gorgeous smile put him at ease.

"So, ..." Eddie grinned.

"You've been flirting with me this entire time, haven't you?"

"Well, yeah, duh. Surely, you're not just noticing that now?"

The look on Steve's face had Eddie straightening up in his seat.

"No! No way! You have got to be kidding me!"

Steve raised his hand in defence. "I thought you were just roleplaying! It never crossed my mind, I figured I was just sitting closest and that's why you always picked me!"

Eddie shook his head and sunk back down into Steve's lap, who emitted the tiniest groan, his hands automatically catching Eddie's waist.

Eddie swallowed visibly.

"So, " Steve's voice was low and dangerous, "now that I've caught on to you..." His fingers climbed up Eddie's chest. "What do I do with you?"

Eddie's chest was tight with want, he lowered his face to Steve's again. "What a dilemma... How about we figure it out after you kiss me again?"

Steve licked his lips. "Excellent plan, my darling." 

He didn't kiss him immediately, though, instead, his tongue touched upon Eddie's earlobe, ever so lightly, before he whispered: "So, was the guard charmed or do I still have to roll a persuasion check next session?"

[hairmetal666]

They start kissing on stage as a joke.

The night before the first time, they're at an afterparty, pounding shots, and Eddie is reading aloud a piece that just came out in Rolling Stone. "'One of the most noteworthy parts of Munson and Harrington's unlikely pairing is their chemistry on stage. It's like these two men--one on his way to being the latest metal god, the other an indie rock wunderkind--are two parts of one musical whole. Their singing, their playing, even their bodies twine and flow with assuredness; where one goes, the other follows without question. They share a single brain-cell and that cell is music'."

Steve giggles, pours some more Grey Goose into the glass. "If they say that now, could you imagine what would happen if we, like, kissed on stage or something."

"What the fuck, Harrington?" Eddie splutters, having just thrown a drink back.

"I don't know, other bands do it!"

Eddie snorts. "I'm cutting you off." He reaches for the bottle and the suggestion is forgotten for wrestling over the liquor.

Steve barely remembers it in the morning. Doesn't think about it at all as he gets ready to go out on stage.

They're playing one of the instrumental breakdowns when it happens. They're leaning into each other, Eddie smiling over his shoulder at him, their eyes locked, bodies moving together. "You wanna?" Eddie mouths at him.

Steve nods before the question actually registers and by then Eddie's warm, soft mouth is against his and he just-- completely forgets what he's doing. His hands still on the guitar strings, and he melts a little, going completely boneless when Eddie grips the back of his head, pulls him deeper into the kiss. t's over almost as quickly as it started, Eddie pulling away and swirling to the mic to start the next verse.

The kiss sinks into Steve's bones, and that's before it becomes a regular feature of their performances. After that night, they're never at the same time during the show, all initiated by Eddie, all over before he can catch his breath; each one chaste and surrounded by people but somehow more intimate than any make out.

He and Eddie, they're friends, bandmates, collaborators. They've known each other since they first started out, forging an immediate connection with they stumbled upon each other hiding out in the garden at some industry bigwig's party. And as much as he loved his friend, never once in that time had Steve considered wanting Eddie.

But now, now he falls asleep with the ghost of Eddie on his lips, goes into each show with a thrum of anticipation, catches himself thinking how beautiful his friend is when he's all rumpled and disheveled from a night in the tour bus bunks.

They've always been easy with physical affection, but once the kissing starts they're constantly in each other's space, idly playing with hair, laying across laps, heads on shoulders, twisting together on the tour bus couch. Steve is ruined with every touch, every moment; he can't get enough.

The first time Eddie uses tongue destroys every last piece of Steve's composure. They've added a new song to the setlist, a remixed version of Eddie's hit "Prince Charming". It's hard, heavy, sexy, one of Steve's favorites. And in the middle of it, right in the middle, Eddie shoves him against a low platform, kisses him like he's trying to own him, tongues twining eager and wet and full of sinful promise. It's like that every show after, Eddie kissing him deep and thorough, like he's trying to lick up every drop of Steve.

He is, unquestionably, fucked. Unquestionably falling. Can't properly fathom how he'd gotten himself here, desperate for Eddie's kiss, as performative as it may be.

They're packing up equipment after a show. Eddie's hair is piled in a messy bun and Steve is trying not to blatantly stare at the curve of his neck, the stray curls against his pale skin. Eddie's gesturing at something, says, "Can you grab those cords, swee--Steve?" He hands them over without thought, notices that Eddie's face is shining red. He's called away to deal with packing the guitars, forgets all about it, but at their next show, Eddie doesn't kiss him.

They don't talk about it.

Eddie doesn't try to kiss him again.

A week after Eddie stops the kiss, they have a night off between shows. He needs to get out of his head, goes out with Robin. He gets back fairly early, but all the lights are off in the bus. It makes him panic in a way it shouldn't; they've always done their own things. Still, he rushes on board, flips on the lights, his absurd heart beating too hard.

Eddie is curled up on the couch, face pressed to the pillows and covered with his hands. The panic kicks up a notch.

"Eddie?" He steps closer, slowly reaching out to grip Eddie's shoulder.

He jerks upright, earbuds slipping free, phone sliding down his hip. "Steve?"

His face is wet, tears actively slipping free from his eyes as Steve watches.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" His hands flutter around Eddie's arms and face, searching for bruises or wounds.

"I'm fine, Harrington," he chokes out. "Though you were out with Robin?"

"Yeah, I was, but Chrissy called. You know how useless she gets. But that doesn't--you--you're crying. What's wrong?"

Eddie's smile is a wobbly little thing, refusing to stick on his face. "Oh, you know, the usual. Fell for the wrong guy."

Steve forces down the gut churning hurt at hearing that Eddie's in love with someone, intent on comforting his friend. He tries to slip his arm around Eddie's shoulders, but Eddie shrugs him off. It jostles Eddie's phone again, slipping it toward Steve and activating the screen. He has a split second where he's looking at the cover of his own first album, before Eddie's snatching it out of reach, scrambling up from the couch.

"I'm fine." He swipes his sleeve over his face. "It's nothing."

And Steve is putting it all together, the being in love and listening to Steve's music, the kissing and how it ended.--

"Eddie." He sounds all wrong, choked and garbled.

Eddie doesn't turn around, is stuffing his feet into his boots. "I'm--I gotta go clear my head."

He walks towards the door and Steve just--"I've been obsessed with you since the first kiss," he says. Eddie stops, hand curled against the door. "We've been friends all this time and I didn't--I never realized. And then we kissed and--it's all I've been able to think about."

Eddie turns then, facing him, expression unreadable."Steve, what are you--"

"I love you. I'm in love with you." It comes out fast, all jumbled, but he can't stand Eddie leaving, not now.

"You--?" Eddie blinks, bites his lip. "That's not possible."

Steve smiles, can't help it. "It is, though. Turns out, I can't get enough."

Their eyes lock; neither speaks. Steve's heart pounds so hard it might spring free of his chest. Eddie moves first, crosses the small distance between them to pull Steve into his arms.

It's not a kiss, but Steve buries his face against Eddie's neck, breathing him in, feeling the echo to the pound of his own heart. "How long?" Steve asks.

Eddie's soft laugh vibrates through him. "Since I saw you walking in that garden and thought, 'jesus christ, Prince Charming is real'."

Steve pulls away to stare at Eddie in disbelief. "But that's--your--the song?"

"They're kinda all about you, Stevie. But that one most of all." Eddie whispers. His eyes glisten.

"Fuck, Eddie." He doesn't mean to whine, but he's not in control of his voice anymore. "I'm sorry I didn't--" He shakes his head. "I'm all yours, Ed. Whatever you want."

Eddie's thumb catches against Steve's bottom lips, eyes transfixed on his mouth. "Everything, sweetheart. I want it all."

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One of Rock Star Eddie and Baker Steve wrong number AU

Link to Part Two

Eddie's got dubious history with picture messages. Only a very small group of people have his number, considering he's the front man of a multimillion best selling metal band, he doesn't ever want his number to be public knowledge.

So yeah, picture message from and unknown number? Dubious.

Eddie's had enough dick and...vag...pics in his time that he, honestly, doesn't really want another. But when the picture is followed by a message, "were you thinking something like this?"

Well, Eddie's a curious guy. So, committing himself to the idea that this might be new number time, again, he opens the message.

To be confronted with a cake. A really fucking cool cake actually, it's got a car dashing around a muddy track on top with a big '5' in the middle. All of it looks edible, made out of...cake stuff. Eddie has no idea what it is, but it looks delicious.

"One layer chocolate, one layer red velvet? I can do any combination of flavours you want."

Well. Eddie isn't anything but impulsive and he was trying to figure out what the fuck to do for the 'quiet' celebration they were planning for going platinum. Again.

"I think you have the wrong number'" Eddie types, "but I definitely want to order a cake from you."

"Oh my god I'm so sorry, unsolicited cake pics are the worst 😉"

And Eddie can't help it, he laughs, and types back, "if I told you I wanted three tiers of the darkest, spookiest, cherry chocolate what would you come up with?"

It takes a couple of minutes, but Eddie's phone pings twice in quick succession, the first picture is of a spooky orange cake clearly Halloween themed, covered in ghosts and skeletons and stuff. The second is jet black and has a coffin on top that looks like it's leaking green corrosive stuff and Eddie nearly throws his phone in excitement. "That! The second one!"

"🤣 that's an old pic, I was just starting out then, but everything is edible, the green slime is made out of jello"

"Where are you based and can you make it for the 15th? I'll get a courier to collect."

"Sure thing, how many portions? And I need a deposit up front. I'll do chocolate ganache and cherry filling."

"Errr...like, 150? Maybe?"

Eddie sits and watches as the dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear, and then there's a pic.

It's a selfie of the most beautiful man he's ever seen. And he's standing in a kitchen, holding a cake pan. Suddenly Eddie's phone is ringing in his hand and he is panicking because beautiful man is calling him. "Hello?"

"Hey, man, it's Steve, the cake guy?". Eddie assumes he makes an affirmative noise because Steve keeps talking, "anyway, that cake pan I'm holding is literally the largest one I own, even if I did three tiers, no way will it cater that many, I'm a small business, you know, it's just me. I can recommend you some companies I know would do a great job."

But then, Eddie will never get to talk to beautiful man ever again, "what if you made like, three cakes?". He asks desperately.

There's a long beat of silence on the phone, "I mean, in theory, I mean, it might cost you more than-"

"I'll pay it. I'll pay double, for, inconvenience, or whatever-"

And oh no, beautiful man has the most beautiful laugh too. Eddie's fucked. He's so fucked.

"I'll raise you, two cakes and fifty muffins?" Steve laughs again, and Eddie laughs right along with him.

Steve grabs his phone when it pings, hoping for Eddie. It is Eddie. It's a selfie from the neck down, like always, Steve still doesn't know what the guy looks like, but Eddie's wearing a deep red shirt that he's clearly just dumped a whole cup of coffee down, "hope your days going better than mine, sweetheart,"

Steve sends back a selfie with a lump of uncooperative modelling fondant in the background, "that depends, can you tell what this is supposed to be?"

Steve's pretty sure it's wierd to talk to a customer every day, but he's started to find he's looking forward to Eddie's messages. Even when they turn flirty. Especially when they turn flirty, maybe.

And maybe it's not exactly professional that Steve's found a lot of reasons to call Eddie. He just, needs to get this right, and if Eddie wants chocolate covered cherries on the cupcakes, well, Steve needs to call him and check, right? Right.

Steve heads out into the lounge with flour on his nose and a mixing bowl under his arm, Dustin, Lucas and Max are sprawled on the couch, El lying on the floor. He can hear Mike and Will fucking around outside. He spoons up some cherry mixture, "hey will you try-"

"Shhhhhhhh!"

Well. Rude. Steve looks to the interview they're watching on the TV. It's some metal band Steve vaguely recognises, and when the lead guy speaks...Steve has to sit down. Because that sounds a lot like-

"So, Eddie," the show host guy starts, and Steve's knees would go weak of he wasn't already sitting down. He's certain his stomach has left the building. "Seeing anyone?"

Eddie laughs, says no, but the band mate next to him makes a show of nudging Eddie and sharing a look.

The host picks up on it immediately, "so there is someone," Eddie's still shaking his head, but he's got a shy smile on his face that makes Steve feel like he's melting. "Come on Eddie, give us something."

"It's not a thing," Eddie flaps his hands, "don't make it a thing."

"Oh it's a thing alright," the audience laugh, "come on, give us something!"

Eddie looks uncomfortable for a second before shrugging, "they, uhm, they make the most amazing cakes you've ever seen."

[scarlet-bitch]

"Do the Things You Said You'd Do to Me"

3.7k Eddie Munson X fem!reader, no use of Y/N, little to no description of reader, 18+ explicit content-porn with plot, fluff. No upside down, 90s AU set in '97 Eddie & Reader are mid twenties.

A/N: 90% of the time I'll hear a song and immediately think - I want to write about this. It's not always the song's actual theme but specific lyrics. This idea came to me while listening to Sailor Song by Gigi Perez. Feedback/likes/reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading & as always, I hope you enjoy! XO, Scarlet 💋

Eddie's flavor was a mix of tobacco and cinnamon. He could brand it 'red squared,' the taste of Marlboro Reds and Red Hots always lingering on his tongue. Occasionally there was a hint of weed, but he didn't often get high with you. You asked why once, and he mumbled something like, "You get me high enough already."

It was undeniably cheesy but he meant it. You had him dizzy in love, so he liked to be completely cognizant, fully immersed in the moment with you. Unfortunately, right now, he couldn't be present at all.

Eddie had been on tour for a month, with three weeks still to go. You had the pleasure of going to the first few shows, but you had your own job so you were stuck in Indiana while your boyfriend was on the road.

Aside from a few brief phone calls -soft whispers of 'I love you,' 'I miss you,' and dirty vows of what’s to come- you two hadn't spoken while he's been away. You hadn’t been apart this long since before you got together and it was driving you crazy. You didn't just miss him—you craved him.

Craved him so much so, that this past week, you considered picking up a cigarette habit. If that wasn't already pathetic, you actually did buy a pack of Red Hots, stashing them in your nightstand for your late night indulgence. It wasn't enough to think about him—you needed to taste him.

You'd feel ashamed if it wasn't exactly the sort of thing Eddie would love to hear—how desperate you were for him. And god, were you desperate.

That's how you ended up vibrator in hand, Red Hots melting on your tongue, losing yourself in thoughts of Eddie. His pretty mouth-it held the filthiest promises, yet they spilled so sweetly. After the words would leave him he'd always smirk, corners of his plush lips drawing your gaze to his big doe eyes. Those godforsaken eyes-constantly feigning innocence when in reality they were a gateway to a deep abyss that threatened to consume you and without a doubt, you'd gladly allow it.

You're fully engrossed in your fantasy of imagining his gaze boring into your own while his sinful mouth's on your cunt. A lethal combination that always had your back arching off the bed. You could feel the orgasm building, the vibrations teasing you, getting you right to the edge, and then just like that-it's gone. You're snapped out of the moment by a loud ruckus from the apartment hallway. You click the vibrator off, straining to listen, hoping it's just your imagination.

A moment passes, and you don't hear anything else. The walls are thin, so you toss it up to your neighbor’s rowdy friends, who always acted as if no one else lives in the building. You try to refocus on thoughts of Eddie, but just as you click the vibrator back on, the noise came again.

Goddamn horror movies. You shut off the vibrator, tossing it aside, face flushed and beads of sweat gathering at your hairline as you let out a frustrated sigh. This is exactly why Robin offered for you to sleepover after your movie night earlier that evening. You should have accepted her invitation, because now, alone in your apartment, you can’t shake the feeling of Ghost Face lurking in the hallway.

The blissful knot that had been forming has been replaced with one of pure anxiety. As you can faintly hear what sounds like someone shuffling at your doorway. You want to get up from your bed, shut and lock your bedroom door but you're frozen in place. Panicked and second guessing if you even locked the deadbolt.

When you hear the familiar click of your front door, you know that you didn't. Heart racing in your chest as the sound of footsteps enter your apartment. Your stomach drops, and before you can plan your next move—

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie’s voice rings out.

You shot out of bed, and bolted from your room. There he was, standing in your living room, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The glow of the nightlight illuminating him, showcasing that smug grin of his. "Surprise!"

“What the fuck, Eddie?” you exclaimed, trying to catch your breath as you walked toward him. “That was terrifying! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

He chuckled, “That would defeat the purpose of the surprise, babe.”

“Surprise?! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

He laughed, stepping closer, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you into his arms. “I’m sorry for scaring you, baby. Harrington warned me you might be jumpy.”

“Um, who the hell wouldn’t be?” You laughed, then pulled away from his embrace. “Wait—Steve was in on this? Was Robin? Don’t tell me those assholes let me watch people get sliced up for two hours knowing you were going to break in!” You exclaimed, flinging your hands out with a scoff of disbelief. “How did any of you think this was a good idea?” You added as you made your way toward your end table.

"First of all, it's not breaking in when I have a key, and it's not like this was the plan, baby! I was supposed to be at Robin's hours ago, but my flight got delayed. They didn’t want to spoil it," he said, tossing the duffle bag off his shoulder. "I've been planning this for weeks. Robin said she tried to convince you to spend the night. She told me you insisted that Scream didn’t even scare you.”

“Well, it didn’t!” you defended as your fingers found the knob of the lamp, twisting it on. “Not while watching it, at least. At midnight when someone's at my door, that's a different story.” You laughed, turning back to him.

“Now that you know it’s just me, are ya still scared?” he asked, with his head cocked to the side and a devilish grin on his lips.

“A little,” you smirked. “The boyfriend's the killer after all.”

Eddie rolled his eyes playfully as he began walking towards you. For the first time tonight, he was fully taking you in: ruffled hair, rosy cheeks, pebbled nipples against the thin material of your oversized night shirt.

"Fuck, sweetheart you look..." His breath hitched, his jeans suddenly feeling too tight. "Did I interrupt something?"

"As a matter of fact, before your grand entrance I was quite busy.. didn't even get to finish." You whispered all sultry and sweet.

He wet his lips with his tongue, a soft swallow as he drank you in. "Guess I got here at the perfect time, huh?"

You nodded as you closed the distance between you both, arms snaking around his neck as his hands came to rest on your lower back, pulling you close, bodies pressed against each other. You could feel how hard he was already. With this proximity, Eddie wasted no time connecting his lips to yours. Within seconds his tongue was eagerly pushing its way into your mouth.

There it was. Smokey cinnamon hitting your tastebuds- heavy on the cinnamon as the candy coating on your own tongue amplified it. It was everything you'd been missing.

You couldn't help but moan into Eddie's mouth, tongues colliding in needy haste. Eddie's hands moved lower, sliding over your backside before bunching up the fabric of your oversized shirt and gripping the fat of your bare ass. He let out a hiss, as you pulled back with his lower lip caught between your teeth dragging it out slowly before letting go.

"Eds," you whispered, eyelashes fluttering up at him. "Would you please, do all the things you said you'd do to me."

A gravelly moan escaped him, the moment the words left your lips. "Come on," he said, taking your hand and guiding you toward your room.

As you both entered your bedroom, you took a seat on your bed as Eddie stood against the doorframe. His eyes landed on the box of Red Hots on the nightstand, raising an eyebrow at you, a teasing smirk on his lips. "I thought I caught that on your tongue."

"Yeah," you giggled. "I... I missed you a lot and I just, I needed to taste you."

Eddie watched as you moved the vibrator that was next to you on your bed, to set it on your nightstand. The full picture of what you'd been up to before his arrival, was now at the forefront of his mind. His cock was straining harder against his jeans as he watched you lean back against your pillows, patiently awaiting his next move.

Before tonight, it had been 27 long days since he last saw you, touched you, fucked you. In less than 36 hours, he would be back on a plane, and another 21 days would stretch before he saw you again. He needed to absorb every detail of this moment—the soft, warm light casting a glow across your features, the hunger in your eyes, and the way your chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath. Your oversized shirt enveloped you, concealing the skin he ached to touch. You looked breathtakingly beautiful, and knowing you had been just as desperate for him made his heart flutter.

"What was my needy girl thinking about while she touched herself, huh?" He asked making his way toward the bed.

"Oh y'know, just your pretty face between my thighs."

"Mmm, my favorite place to be," he groaned, dropping to his knees. His arms came up to your calves, urging you closer to the edge of the bed. Once you were settled, Eddie hoisted your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs. He slid his right hand up, eager fingers pulling the material of your oversized shirt aside, exposing your glistening cunt. A guttural moan escaped his lips at the sight, the sound making your stomach flip.

"Shit," he sighed. "You're fucking dripping."

You let out a soft hum, anticipation gnawing at you as you watched him take a bite of the soft flesh of your left inner thigh, causing your breath to hitch.

Eddie trailed open mouthed kisses up the expanse of your thigh, his hot breath fanning over your core before he moved to your right thigh, giving it the same treatment until his mouth hovered over where you longed for him most.

"Please," you whimpered.

"If I remember correctly, I believe I said I'd tease you first."

"Eddie..." you whined, frustration lacing your tone. "Please don't. I've waited long enough."

Eddie took pleasure in teasing you, reveling in the intoxicating game of cat and mouse. He delighted in how you'd squirm and beg for his touch, your desperation only fueled his desire. But right now, there was absolutely no way he could drag this out.

"Don't worry, I'm only kidding. Been dreaming of savoring this pussy for weeks," leaning forward and sliding his tongue slowly through your folds.

"Fuuuuuuuuuck," you bucked your hips up instinctively, urging his tongue to press firmer as it fluttered back and forth against your clit. "Yes, right there, fuck."

The vibrations that reverberated from his mouth as he moaned against your cunt made you let out a harsh hiss. He worked quickly, lapping at your clit with an intensity that had your eyes squeezed shut from the sensation. Your mouth went slack, breathy gasps escaping as you realized how easily you were putty under Eddie's touch. In just minutes, you were already on the brink of your orgasm.

You couldn't come yet, not when you hadn't fully taken in the sight before you. Forcing your eyes open, you watched as Eddie devoured your cunt. His big doe eyes looked up at you, lust blown -he looked so beautiful like this. Your fingers threaded through his hair as his palms gripped your thighs, pressing into the doughy flesh.

His tongue moved lower, gliding toward your entrance, and you couldn't help but rut your hips against his mouth, fucking yourself on his tongue. Eddie stayed there for a moment before swirling back to your clit, sucking harshly. He couldn't speak with his mouth full, but those pleading eyes told you everything: he wanted you to come all over his mouth.

"Yes, just like that, Eddie! Missed this so fucking much... ahh, ahhh, missed yo-fuck, ohmygod, I'm go-" You let out a silent scream, as pleasure overtook you. Your legs clamped around Eddie's face, hands moving to squeeze your breasts as he continued to suck your clit. Your back arched off the bed, your entire body quaking from the release of your orgasm. Eddie kept licking at your sensitive cunt, his tongue drawing out every last shiver of pleasure as you struggled to catch your breath as you came down.

In your blissful haze, you watched as he slowly removed himself from between your legs, undressing at the foot of your bed.

He looked so beautiful, you were enamored by it. Your gaze following his tattoos, like a game of connect the dots. Admiring each of them as if this were the first time you were seeing them. You lingered on his most recent addition—a tattooed kiss above his left hip bone. You had a habit of kissing him there, and one day, after leaving a lipstick print, Eddie was so in love with how it looked, he decided to immortalize it in ink.

While you loved it, you also worried he might regret such an impulsive, permanent choice. He only smiled, assuring you, "I’ll forever be yours, so it might as well be branded on me."

"What're you thinking about, sweetheart?" Eddie asked pulling you out of your thoughts, his fingers toying with the waist band of his boxers.

"How pretty you are," you smiled, sitting up and leaning forward, replacing his hands with your own. Your lips brushed over the tattoo, eliciting a shudder from Eddie. You trailed soft kisses across his abdomen to his right hip bone, then slowly pulled down his boxers.

Your breath caught as his cock was revealed -so pretty, hard, and leaking pre cum. You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip, before teasing it with slow, soft licks.

"Christ," Eddie muttered through gritted teeth.

Your fingernails sank into his hips, sure to leave marks as you pulled him closer, taking his tip into your mouth and sucking.

"Ahh fuck," he moaned,

Normally, you'd bob your head, eager to take him fully. But the ache between your thighs was back, more intense than before.

You pulled back, eyes glistening-not from the act, but from the pure desperation you were suddenly feeling.

"I want more," you whined as you moved your hand to stroke his cock. "Want you to fuck me, Eds."

"Is that what'ya want," his hand coming to cup your cheek. "My cock inside you?"

You tightened your grip on his length, a desperate whine falling from your lips as you nodded. "Please."

Eddie inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut at the sound of your voice pleading for him. Your words dripped with honey, sweet and melodic. "Lay back for me, sweetheart, and take off your shirt. I want to see all of you."

You obeyed, your heart racing as he reached for a condom from your nightstand. After rolling it over his length, he climbed onto the bed, settling on his knees between your spread legs.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, his hands caressing your body, lips kissing the soft skin of your tummy and trailing up toward your breasts.

A chorus of moans escaped you as he suckled and nipped at your breasts. He moved slowly, working his way up to your collarbone and along your neck, every kiss a tantalizing reminder of what you craved.

You grabbed his face, crashing your lips against his in a hungry frenzy of teeth and tongue. "Eddie, stop teasing," you urged breathlessly, feeling him line himself up at your entrance.

He couldn't help himself, he'd been satiated enough from devouring you earlier, he had to taunt you a little. "That's half the fun, baby. Love seeing you so worked up," he growled, his hands squeezing your hips.

"Far past worked up."

He chuckled, "Yeah? Tell me how badly you want it."

"Don't want, need. Need you to fill me, Eddie."

"And I will, baby, I will. But it's been a while, maybe I should take my time?"

"No, I can handle it," you insisted.

"You can also be patient though, right?" He tsked softly, pressing the tip inside slowly. Your breath hitched as you mewled at the sensation.

A stream of praise tumbled from his lips, barely coherent as you saw stars from the stinging pleasure of his cock. He tantalized you with slow half thrusts, and you needed more. Arching your back, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Eddie thrived on how needy you were, how much you made him feel desired. All he wanted was to give you everything you craved. He inched deeper, stretching you, filling you completely, both of you gasping at the sensation. He stayed still for a moment, savoring the tight warmth around him. "You feel so goddamn good," he groaned, beginning to move.

You were nearly in tears, eyes blown wide as Eddie found a steady pace, your nails now clawing at his back. "Feels perfect," you cried out.

"Sure does, sweetheart. Like you were made just for me," he groaned.

"All for you."

Eddie leaned closer, his left forearm braced against the bed, while his right pressed against your chest his hand gripping your neck gently. Your legs fell open, falling to the sides of his torso, over his spread thighs as he continued to thrust into you, at an increased pace.

The tension coiled tighter, building faster than you expected. You grasped his bicep with your right hand, the other clutching his forearm that was on your chest.

His face hovered over yours, gaze locked onto each others. The lust that once filled his eyes had transformed into something softer—half lidded and glistening, a reflection of pleasure and the surge of emotions swirling between you.

"Missed you so fucking much," he breathed removing his grip from your neck, to instead lace his fingers with yours and rest your hand against the mattress as he continued to pound into you.

You nodded your head, rendered absolutely speechless by the pure ecstasy his cock was giving you.

The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, breathy gasps and lewd moans, as the two of you continued to lose yourselves within each other.

"That's it, baby. I can feel you, you're so close," Eddie coaxed. "Let go for me, I'm right there with you."

You let your orgasm wash over you, Eddie's thrusts never letting up even as he came with you.

As the height of pleasure dulled, he rolled his hips lazily, his forehead pressing against yours as your lips met in a soft collision.

"I love you," you murmured.

"I love you too," he replied, rolling onto his side to lie next to you.

You cuddled for a while, Eddie's fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he shared stories about the road and the gigs he's played. You caught him up on your job and what life had been like in Hawkins since he’d been gone, telling him all the details about your movie night at Robin's. You even joked that if it had been Ghost Face who "broke in" tonight, as long as you got the same treatment you just received, you wouldn't have minded.

"Halloween '97, here I come. No tricks, all treats—I’ll fuck you with the mask on," he teased.

You playfully nudged him, and he shrugged. "Just saying, I'm open to it," he laughed, reaching over you to grab the Red Hots from your nightstand, popping some into his mouth.

He was beaming at you, eyes bright and wide, sucking hard on the candy in his cheek. "I'll be right back," he said, hopping out of bed and throwing on his boxers.

"Where are you going?"

"I have something for you," he called as he headed into the living room.

You sat up, the comforter pulled over you, eagerly awaiting his return.

"It's not much," he said as he walked back into your room, arms behind his back. "And don't be alarmed that it’s been used."

"Okay," you replied, cocking your head to the side, eyebrow raised with a questioning smile.

Eddie made his way back onto the bed, sitting in front of you. "You weren't alone in going out of your way for uh... reminders," he laughed, revealing a bottle of your favorite perfume. "Sleeping on a bus is rough, okay? The motels aren't any better, and I just needed... you."

A soft giggle escaped your lips. "Oh my god, Eddie."

"I sprayed my pillow. The bus driver gave the me idea, said his wife sends him with her perfume every time he's away. The downside was that it made me increasingly horny. Like, I was popping a boner every time my head hit the pillow."

You were choking on your laughter.

"It's not funny, baby. Do you know how hard it is to jack off on a tour bus? Everyone can hear everything! I had to smother myself with the pillow to keep myself from fucking moaning but that only made it worse. The scent was just intensified, and felt like my head was just buried in your neck while I fucked my hand and I'd just moan louder."

You laughed, heart swooning that he'd been as much of a mess as you. "Well, at least we're both terrible at being apart."

"Tragically lovesick, I think they call it," he murmured, a teasing smile on his lips as he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to yours.

"When's your flight back?"

"Sunday at noon," he replied.

You glanced at the clock on wall. "So we've got 34 hours left, and I if I remember correctly," you teased using his own words from earlier. "I asked you to do the things you said you would."

"Right," he said a cheeky grin on his lips. "And I think I told you on our last phone call, that when I saw you, I'd make you cum once for every day we'd been apart. Is that right?"

"Mhmm. Only 25 more to go," you added.

"We better get to it then," he smirked.

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[lovelylittlegrim]

This Give and Take

Steddie | Pre-Season 3 | letterman jacket | alt meeting | 2k words

Part 1 | Part 2 |

December 9th, 1984

It’s just starting to snow, heavy white flakes drifting down and catching in Eddie’s tangled curls, in his lashes. He sniffles hard, face numb with the cold. He tries to warm his hands by blowing into them, rubbing the moist warmth into his fingers before stuffing them back into the chilled pockets of his jacket.

He’s not dressed for this kind of weather, not dressed for December at all except the heavy boots and the layered jacket and vest combo. It does little to keep the cold from seeping into his skin. He hadn’t been prepared to be stranded in the middle of the night, somewhere between Hawkins and bumfuck nowhere. He’s dressed for the gay bar he just left In Indy, dressed for the press of hot bodies against his own as lights strobe overhead as liquor soaked breath ghosts along his neck.

“Christ.” His teeth chatter around the word, making it longer and warped.

He’s going to freeze to death out here all because he’s gay. Jeff is going to talk so much shit to Eddie’s headstone when they plop him in the ground after finding his body in the thawed out spring. Eddie will never know a moment of peace.

He stops walking, glancing behind him to peer through the thicker flurries beginning to rain down and wonders if it’s better to just turn back to the van. He thought he could make it to the trailer on foot, but the ground is slippery now and the snow is falling thicker than before.

He curses loudly, voice lost to the wind as he hunches down and tries to preserve warmth. He tucks his face into the collar of his thin shirt and breathes hotly. Just a minute, he thinks. He’ll take just a minute to warm up and then he’ll walk. Maybe even run if it gets him back into town quicker.

He can’t stay here huddled on the side of the road. He’s not that stupid. He knows he’ll freeze to death. So, gathering what little energy he has, he forces himself to stand back up and stomp through the growing trenches of snow.

It’s another thirty minutes of barely walking when he sees the flare of yellow cresting atop the hill he’s trying to make his way up. He squints through frozen lashes, heart pounding with hope at the sight of headlights coming towards him. He staggers off the side of the road, moving more into the street and waving a stiff arm wildly.

The car passes him and Eddie deflates. He gets it. Weird guy in all black on the side of the road at what can only be three in the morning… he’s not sure he would stop for them either. He could be a murderer. He is not. Obviously. But, to the driver, he could be. So, as much as he really hates it, he gets it too.

“Fuck,” he he croaks, stomps his feet to warm them up, they’ve gone terrifyingly numb, and just to stomp them because fuck, he might actually cry.

It’s barely a minute or two when yellow light drenches him again, this time from behind. Eddie swivels around, nearly slipping in the slush. The car came back, it had turned around for Eddie. It creeps up beside him on the other side of the road and Eddie contemplates freezing or being murdered because what kind of psycho would turn around for him of all people.

The driver's window rolls down, slow and squeaky, and Eddie’s surprised to see the face on the other side is a familiar one.

“Munson?” Steve Harrington is staring at him with furrowed brows from the dark recesses of his car.

“Harrington,” Eddie says back cautiously. He’s ready to beg for a ride, to promise a lifetime supply of weed and silence at lunch time if he has to just for a ride into town.

Harrington twists around in his seat, looking through the back window and then out the windshield, searching for something, before his gaze fixes onto Eddie again. “Dude, what the hell are you doing out here?”

“Just out for a late night stroll,” he stutters around a sharp burst of wind. “You know how it is.”

“It’s snowing.”

“Yeah, I did notice that,” Eddie nods. He clears his throat and gestures towards where he’d left his van. “My van broke down a few miles back, thought I could make it to town on foot but, uh, snow.”

“Shit,” Harrington says, voice edging into sympathetic.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees.

Silence lapses between them, Harrington staring at him and Eddie staring back wondering how to ask for something he’s pretty sure Harrington won’t give him. They’re not exactly friends. They’re not anything to each other except two people who attend the same shitty highschool. Eddie’s surprised Harrington even knows his name, if he’s being honest. It’s not like anyone calls him by it, usually they stick to the moniker of ‘freak’. Or other, F words they’re oh so clever to use.

It’s not long, barely even a minute before Harrington says, “are you going to get in the car or did you really want to finish your stroll?”

“I,” Eddie blinks, “wait, seriously, you’re gonna give me a ride?”

“I’m not going to let you freeze to death on the side of the road, man.” Harrington frowns at him, brows pulling low. “Why do you think I stopped?”

“Because you didn’t know it was me?” Eddie clicks his tongue. “And really, Harrington, picking up hitchhikers is dangerous man, you shouldn’t be stopping for strangers. What if I was a murderer or something?”

The frown falls away, replaced with a snort of amusement. “I’m glad it is you and not a stranger — and I’m not really all that worried about murderers when it’s this cold outside.”

“You should be, this could be a murderer's favorite weather.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“No, I'm obviously freezing my balls off out here.”

“Obviously.” There’s a small smile pulling at his mouth now. “So are you ever going to get in the car or do you have people to murder on your stroll?”

Eddie shakes his head, too cold to really laugh as he rounds the car and finally climbs inside. He does his best to stamp the snow from his shoes so he doesn’t ruin the interior of the expensive car. Beside him, Harrington rolls up his window and cranks the heat up higher, but Eddie is still shivering.

“How long were you walking?”

“Dunno,” Eddie mumbles, “an hour, maybe?”

He hadn’t exactly been looking at the time when his van died.

Harrington him and reaches into the backseat, his arm fumbles around for a moment, before he seems to grab whatever he’s looking for and yank it into the front seat with them. A swaddle of fabric falls onto Eddie lap and the colors alone clue him into the fact that this is Steve Harrington's letterman jacket.

“You can use that,” Harrington says like it’s the most normal thing on the planet and then he’s shifting out of park and into drive.

Eddie does use the jacket, pulling it around his trembling body desperate to be warm again.

“Thanks,” he chatters when he realizes he hasn’t said anything in a while. It’s not a long drive into town, but with the weather it's slow and cautious. The guy has to be going just over thirty.

“Don’t mention it,” Harrington says easily. Like it really is just that simple. Like the king of Hawkins high giving the freak a ride home is normal and not bat shit insane.

Speaking of…

“What are you even doing all the way out here so late?”

Harrington hadn’t been coming from Indy, he'd been coming from town and in Eddie’s experience, there’s literally nothing open this late except a few sketchy gas stations.

Harrington drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I couldn’t sleep, went for a drive.”

“It’s snowing,” Eddie points out in the same incredulous tone Harrington had used earlier.

Big brown eyes glance over at him, amused. “I did notice,” he tells Eddie.

And, what is happening, Eddie wonders. Are they bantering? That’s weird, right?

Harrington shrugs then. “It also wasn’t snowing when I left the house.”

“How long have you been driving around?”

“I don’t know, an hour, maybe two.”

“Well, shit, I’m glad you couldn’t sleep man, otherwise I would seriously be screwed.” Eddie doesn’t let himself think about what could have happened.

He can’t believe he’s literally been saved by Steve Harrington of all people.

No one is going to believe him. Not that Eddie is going to tell anyone. Except maybe Jeff. For reasons.

“Yeah,” Harrington agrees.

Eddie holds his fingers close to the heat, they ache as they slowly regain feeling. The car is quiet with the lapse in conversation, the only sound the windshield wipers going full force.

“You can play something, if you want.” Harrington gestures to the radio. “There’s tapes in the glove box—I don’t think you’re going to like any of them, but…”

It’s better than the silence.

Eddie wiggles his fingers a few times, pumping blood back through them enough to get them to clumsily work. He pulls out several cassets and snorts when he sees the artists.

Harrington glances over. “I said you weren’t going to like them.”

Eddie holds one up, head shaking even as he decides to pop it into the player. “Should have known you would be into tears for fears.”

“They’re a good band.”

“They’re okay.”

“Just because they’re not always screaming—“

“It’s not about the screaming—“

“Sure.”

Eddie twists the volume, not high enough to cut off conversation but just enough to hear it over the blizzard happening around them. He does actually like tears for fears. He likes the lyrics. He’s not going to tell Steve Harrington that though.

“What were you doing out so late,” Harrington asks after the first song ends and the next one begins.

“Was coming back from Indy.”

“This late?”

“Yeah well things really didn’t go as planned.”

Harrington snorts a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I see that.” He drums along lightly to the beat. “Were you at a bar?”

Eddie's heart leaps up to his throat before he realizes Harrington isn’t asking about a gay bar. Why would he be? He’s just asking about a bar. A regular hole in the wall bar.

“Yeah, the drinks are better.”

“Expensive,” Harrington mumbles.

Eddie’s hums his agreement.

It’s a long drive to the trailer park, but surprisingly not awkward. They keep up conversation throughout the hour's drive. Mostly it’s Eddie making fun of Harrington's music and Harrington defending himself and his choices. It’s surprisingly easy.

Eddie doesn’t think about directions a single time until they’re pulling into the trailer park and edging up to Eddie’s trailer. Eddie stares at his home with relief and surprise.

“You know where I live?”

“I’ve been here a few times,” Harrington says, “with, uh, Tommy and carol.”

Ah.

He’s been a tagalong to Hagan’s drug deals.

“I always stayed in the car,” he explains further but Eddie already gleaned that much. He’s surprised Harrington knows which trailer is his though, they do all kind of look alike.

“Right.”

Steve turns the volume lower, like he needs something to do with his hands.

Eddie shoves open the door, cursing when a burst of sharp cold air washes over them. He clambers out, leaves the door open a crack to say thanks again.

Harrington nods, mouth parting like he’s going to say something, his dark eyes flicking over Eddie but then he just nods. “You’re welcome, man.”

“Uh, drive safe.” Eddie shuts the door and waves before hurriedly bounding up the few steps and tumbling inside the trailer.

It’s not until he hears the low purr of Harrington's car fade away and he’s kicked off his soaked socks that he realizes he’s still wearing the letterman. It smells like expensive cologne and hairspray.

“Shit.”

How the hell is he supposed to give this back?

This was only supposed to be one part but now I have a second part AND two alternate endings for it in the works.ugh

[boltonbritreads]

🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

[steddiehyperfixation]

not nothing

@steddiebingo prompt: friends to lovers | 1.6k words | T | 3+1 fic (three times steve and eddie kissed drunk + one time sober)

"Never have I ever...kissed someone sober," Eddie says, sitting on the floor in the living room of his and Steve's apartment with Steve, Robin, and Nancy. The girls are in town from college for a long weekend, and they've taken it upon themselves to fill Steve and Eddie in on the college experience of playing drinking games.

They all (except Eddie of course) take a sip of their drinks at Eddie's statement. They also all look at him with varying degrees of surprise, confusion, or maybe even concern at this information.

“What, really?” Robin asks.

“Uh huh.” He doesn't think it's that crazy. He certainly doesn't think it's all that unexpected from him either. They all know he's never had a proper boyfriend before or anything, and he’s not particularly looking for one either. He's perfectly happy with his life as it is and the people in it. A handful of drunken experiences at clubs and parties is more than enough for him.

Steve frowns at him. “No, that can't be true. You and I have kissed before.”

“Yeah, while drunk.”

“You guys have kissed?” asks Nancy, her eyes slightly wide as if she's more shocked by this fact than the previous one.

“Yeah,” Eddie repeats, “while drunk.”

“And how often does that happen?” Nancy continues to question. God, it's like an interrogation in here all of the sudden.

“It's only been like…” Steve shrugs, glancing at Eddie like he's trying to remember. “What, a couple times?”

“Three times,” Eddie says, “I think.” As if he could ever forget, as if he can't still recall each and every instance in vivid technicolor. No matter how drunk he'd been, kissing Steve Harrington has a way of burning itself into the memory of even the most alcohol-soaked of minds.

1.

The first time it happened, Steve had been in a slump for weeks after getting broken up with, and Eddie, tired of watching him sullenly skulk about their apartment like a ghost, had finally dragged him out to the club, making it his own personal mission to find him a stranger to kiss to help him get over his ex. They took too many shots and danced to shitty pop music while Eddie kept an eye out for anyone who looked like they might be Steve’s type. Steve only frowned and shook his head at every girl Eddie pointed out.

After about 7 shots and Eddie’s 12th attempt to nudge him towards somebody, Steve had rolled his eyes in annoyance and shouted over the music, “If you want me to be kissed so badly, why don’t you do it?”

So Eddie did. No thought at all, just grabbed him and kissed him. Steve stiffened slightly in surprise like he hadn’t actually expected him to do it, but then he kissed back almost immediately, and there they were: making out messily on the dance floor with flashing lights and too-loud music thudding like a heartbeat all around them.

It felt like dancing; fun, mindless movements, heat and warmth and thrill. It felt like taking another shot; blood turned to fire and mind dazing over.

Eddie woke up the next morning still feeling it on his lips.

They talked about it, briefly, in the kitchen over coffee after commiserating together about their mutual hangovers. “It’s not weird that we kissed, right?” Eddie asked, just checking. He couldn’t tell yet if he felt weird about it himself or not.

“Nah, of course not,” Steve had brushed it off with a wave of his hand and a good-natured grin. “I used to kiss my friends all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

So it wasn’t a big deal. And they didn’t talk about it again.

2.

The second time it happened was at a 4th of July house party thrown by a friend of an acquaintance, since all of their own friends were out of town. The place was full of people they didn't know who all knew each other, so they had a few drinks and tried to mingle but eventually they both ended up alone together on a balcony, relieved to be in only familiar company, quietly watching the beginnings of neighborhood fireworks crackle in the indigo sky.

“I’m bored,” Eddie announced, the quiet making him itchy and the alcohol in his veins making him want to do something.

“Me too.” Steve finished off his drink of about 90% vodka and 10% Sprite (which Eddie knew because he was drinking the same exact thing, having poured them both himself at the free self-serve bar), and glanced sideways at him. “Wanna make out?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie agreed without question. He set his drink aside and Steve's lips were on his in a matter of seconds.

3.

The third time it happened, they didn’t even need to ask anymore, not really. They were out, just the two of them, drunk on a nightclub dance floor again and Steve just wordlessly lifted his hands as if to hold Eddie’s face and raised his eyebrows. Eddie shrugged, why the hell not, and leaned in.

+1.

They were nothing, those kisses, just a fun thing with a friend. Brushed past and moved on from easily, not buried in shame or secrecy but simply inconsequential and not worth lingering on, then and now. Nancy’s still got this look like she thinks there’s more of a story here, but she too moves on with the conversation as the game of Never Have I Ever continues, and Steve and Eddie’s drunk kisses are brushed past once again. No big deal. Nothing.

Eddie is just fine with that. He doesn’t mind it all being nothing, because if it’s not nothing - if he lets himself think even for a second that it’s not nothing - then to him it would be everything. And that’s simply too much.

But anyways, he's not lingering on it. The party goes on and Eddie's taking a drink at Robin’s “Never have I ever kissed a man,” and it's all forgotten now.

At least, he expects it to be all forgotten. But then the next morning he's sitting in the kitchen eating fucking toast when Steve walks in, pauses for a second, and then asks, “Have you really actually never kissed anyone while sober?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie confirms, mouth full. “Really actually.”

Steve puts a bagel in the toaster then leans back against the counter as he looks at Eddie. “Would you want to?”

Eddie blinks, swallows his mouthful of toast. “What, are you offering?”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugs. Like it's nothing. “I mean, if you want. It's not like we've never kissed before.”

“Right, yeah.” Eddie sets down his half-eaten toast, the bread sticking to the inside of his mouth now, too dry all of the sudden. “I just, um. I think I’d probably be bad at it sober. You know, like, I’d get too in my head about it or whatever.”

Steve shrugs that off too, smiles and makes light of it, “I don't care. Even if you were bad at it, I’m willing to bet you real money you probably still wouldn't be the worst kiss I've ever had.”

Eddie laughs, grateful for Steve's humor and reassurance, but still he shakes his head. The mere suggestion is already making his heartbeat faster and his face feel warmer, and he can't let himself get like this, not over Steve. Not over nothing. “Yeah, I still just- I still just shouldn't though.”

“Okay,” Steve says simply. His bagel pops out of the toaster and his attention diverts to plating the two bagel halves and spreading them with cream cheese. Eddie, assuming that's the end of the conversation, relaxes somewhat and resumes his breakfast. But then Steve's turning around, taking his seat at the kitchen table opposite Eddie, and asking, “Not that it matters at all, but can I ask why?”

“I already told you-”

“Yeah, you think you’ll be bad at it, I know. But that's not the only reason, I can tell.”

Eddie shoves the rest of his toast in his mouth to avoid the responsibility of an immediate reply. He stands and takes his plate to the sink. Only with his back turned does he find the courage to answer honestly. “Because it wouldn't be nothing,” he admits as he rinses off his plate, hoping just a little bit that the running water might drown out his words. “If I kissed you sober, I think it would mean something to me. I think it would really, really mean something to me.”

A pause - an awful, agonizing pause in which Eddie, certain he's just fucked up a perfectly good friendship, seriously considers sticking his head under the faucet and attempting to drown himself - and then Steve says, barely louder than the water, “And you think it wouldn't to me?”

Eddie immediately shuts off the sink and turns to look at him. “Would it?”

“Yeah.” Steve's eyes have gone soft. “Eddie, it always has. Why do you think I'm asking? Why do you think I've been asking?” He smiles, a little sheepishly and with a self-deprecating shrug. “I was just…trying to play it cool.”

There are so many ways Eddie could respond to that, ranging from incredulous to teasing, but a wave of fondness rolls through him so completely there's really only one thing he can say: “Get over here and kiss me right now.”

Steve wastes no time in standing up and moving towards him, and Eddie rushes to meet him in the middle. They crash into each other, bodies colliding and hands gripping tight, but when their lips meet it's surprisingly gentle.

Eddie's first sober kiss happens right there in the kitchen, barefoot in his pajamas with his roommate, his best friend, Steve Harrington; and it couldn’t be more perfect. And it's everything.

[spr1ngbunnypvrin]

Headcanons – When They Actually Blindfold Harley for Hide-and-Seek

(Or: The One Time Everyone in the Executive Team Was in Immediate Danger)

✩ Request by @althewendigo ✩

🕶️ The Setup

It starts as a joke.

After the last game, everyone (except Harley) was dying laughing about how utterly paranoid he was.

Stella, in her chaotic wisdom, suggests:

“Alright, but what if we made it worse? What if we blindfolded him and made him the seeker?”

Leith and Eddie are immediately on board.

Harley? Absolutely not.

“This is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I will kill you all before I allow this to happen.”

…So naturally, they do it anyway.

🎭 The Rules

Harley gets a ten-minute head start to sit with the blindfold on and "mentally prepare" (which is just him plotting your collective downfall).

Everyone else gets to scatter and hide.

The goal? Survive.

There are no winners—only survivors.

👨‍⚕️ Harley, the Most Terrifying Blindfolded Seeker

The moment he stands up, the air changes.

The usual paranoia? Gone. He has nothing left to lose.

He immediately moves with purpose.

Which is terrifying because he can’t see anything.

He’s just listening. Calculating.

Every creak in the floor, every breath held too long—he knows.

“You do realize this is unfair to the rest of you, yes?”

“I don’t need sight to find you. I just need to listen.”

Leith panics.

Leith hates this.

He thought this would be funny.

This is not funny anymore.

“Oh, this was a mistake. A massive mistake.”

Eddie starts actively regretting this entire plan.

Stella? Still thriving.

“I love this. I LOVE THIS.”

🎯 How He Finds Each of Them

🎭 Leith Pierre – The First One to Get Found

Leith was breathing too hard.

He made the grave mistake of hiding in the main hallway, thinking it would be safe.

It was not safe.

Harley stopped walking. Tilted his head. Listened.

"You breathe too loudly, Pierre."

Leith doesn’t even have time to move before Harley grabs his shoulder.

Leith screams.

Harley sighs.

“You’re weak. You didn’t even last five minutes.”

“You deserve to be eliminated first.”

"Go sit down before you embarrass yourself further."

🎭 Eddie Ritterman – The One Who Almost Got Away

Eddie actually did really well for a while.

He found a great spot in one of the old storage rooms.

But then? He shifted his weight.

A single creak. A single. Damn. Creak.

Harley turned instantly.

“Ritterman...”

“Don’t make me come over there.”

Eddie stops breathing.

Harley starts walking in his direction anyway.

Eddie tries to slowly crawl away.

Too late.

Harley reaches out, grabs his sleeve, and just—

“Got you.”

“Unfortunate.”

🎭 Stella Greyber – The One Who Fought Back

She should’ve been scared.

She was not.

Instead of running, she tried to fake him out.

Started throwing random objects in other directions to mess with his echolocation.

It worked for like five minutes—until Harley figured out the pattern.

The moment he did, she was done.

“Oh. You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately, you are also predictable.”

“Shame.”

Stella was found when she tried to throw a wrench.

Harley dodged it. Without seeing.

“Nice try.”

🎭 You – The Impossible Target

You? You made yourself a ghost.

Not a single sound. Not a single movement.

Harley knows you’re still hiding.

He hates that he can’t find you.

He knows you’re watching him.

He knows you’re waiting for the right moment.

"This is getting irritating."

Eddie and Leith are already telling you to just give up.

Harley is now actively pissed.

You wait until he’s just a little too close before—

You grab his wrist.

WHISPER, RIGHT IN HIS EAR:

“Found you first.”

Harley. Jumps.

Immediately rips off the blindfold.

Looks genuinely startled.

…Then pissed.

“You. Are. Insufferable.”

Stella is wheezing. Eddie is howling. Leith is just glad it’s over.

📌 The Aftermath

Harley refuses to speak to anyone for at least an hour.

Leith looks like he just survived war.

Eddie is questioning every life decision that led him here.

Stella is already planning a round two.

…And you?

You have unlocked a new way to mess with Harley.

You won’t let him forget this. Ever.

[story-box]

STATIC ON THE LINE

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader | Eddie Munson x Y/N

Summary: Eddie ghosted you to “set you free”—so you came home to ruin his pity party and remind him you're nobody's damsel.

—

You should have set his trailer on fire.

Okay, maybe not literally — arson was still technically illegal — but metaphorically?

Oh, absolutely.

Because if Eddie Munson thought he could ghost you like some coward in a metal band who suddenly decided he was too emotionally fragile to answer a letter, then he clearly forgot who he was dating.

You had written twenty-one letters. Twenty-one. Plus, three postcards you thought were charming and a freaking cassette mix you made with actual effort and very questionable transitions. ("Careless Whisper" into Black Sabbath — sue you, you were emotional.)

And what did you get in return?

Silence.

Avoidance.

The occasional 'your letter was received' from Wayne when you called the Munson trailer, followed by an uncomfortable pause like the old man wanted to say more but wouldn’t.

You had tried to be patient. Really. You reminded yourself that Eddie wasn’t exactly known for healthy coping mechanisms.

But there’s only so much you can take before you start imagining exactly how hard youmee going to throw that shoebox full of unsent letters at his stupid, beautiful, stubborn head.

Because here’s the thing: You didn’t fall in love with him because he had perfect grades or a five-year plan. You fell in love with the idiot who played Dio songs like they were sacred texts, who gave voices to dungeon monsters and talked about fate like it was something he could fight.

And now? Now he was playing tragic martyr like it was some noble sacrifice.

You stared at your phone, hanging up on the wall. Again. Like it might magically spring to life with his voice on the other end.

It didn’t.

Instead, you whispered to no one, "If you think you're protecting me, Eddie Munson, you're dumber than that time you tried to climb my dorm window and got stuck halfway like a stray cat."

Maybe it was time to come home for a weekend.

And maybe it was time to make some noise…

. . .

The trailer looks smaller than you remember. Maybe it’s the winter light — flat and grey, like everything’s been dulled down without you here. Or maybe it’s just Eddie.

Because he’s standing in the doorway, sleep-creased and shoeless, hair a mess, looking like regret and cheap weed had a baby and named it "avoidant behavior."

You cross your arms and lean against your car, giving him the kind of look that says: Go ahead. Explain yourself. I’ll wait. Probably won’t believe you, but I’ll wait.

He blinks like he thinks you’re a hallucination. Which, fair. You did show up unannounced, in your Friday jeans and a pissed-off aura that could probably kill a small god.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“That’s all you’ve got?” you ask. “‘Holy shit’? After ignoring me for three months?”

He rubs the back of his neck. Classic. You’d almost missed that stupid nervous tic.

Almost.

“I thought you were… I don’t know. Gone.”

You laugh — sharp, not sweet. “Yeah. That tends to happen when someone stops answering your letters, calls, telepathic pleas—should I go on?”

His mouth opens like he wants to defend himself. Then closes again, like he realizes there is no defense. And honestly? Good. Let him stew. Let him feel the way your chest has felt every time you checked the mailbox and found nothing but silence.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he finally mutters.

You throw your hands up. “Try anything. ‘Hey, I suck at feelings, give me a minute’? ‘Sorry I’m an emotionally constipated disaster’? Even a postcard that just says ‘still alive’ would’ve been better than radio silence.”

He flinches. You almost feel bad.

Almost.

But then he says, voice low and stupidly sincere, “I thought if I let you go, you’d move on. Meet someone better. Someone who doesn’t live in a trailer and get held back and—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you groan. “You don’t get to martyr yourself and act like you’re doing me a favor. I’m not some romcom character who blossoms without the sad boy weighing her down. I chose you, you idiot.”

He stares at you, like maybe he didn’t quite believe it until you said it out loud. Like he’s terrified hope might be real.

You step closer. Close enough that he can see the tear line in your eyeliner and the months of unsent anger burning just behind your eyes.

“If you ever ghost me again,” you whisper, “I will break into your room, steal your favorite guitar, and replace all your good vinyls with Barry Manilow."

He chokes on a laugh.

You almost kiss him right then. Almost. But he has to earn that.

So instead, you say, “Now let me in before I freeze out here. We’re not done talking.”

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

[megalony]

Bring Her Back

This is a new Eddie Munson imagine, it's my first imagine where reader has powers like Eleven so I hope you will all like it.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585

Main Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) tries to use her powers to help find any clues about Vecna, but when things go wrong, no one knows what to do. And Eddie feels like the only one who cares about his girlfriends wellbeing.

Enjoy.

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

Tiredness raged through Eddie's system as he battled to try and open his eyes and look around the room. He prepared himself to look through the darkness, to try and make out the different objects scattered about his room and the posters and pictures lining the walls in the dark. But surprise lit up his face when he realised there was light.

It took him longer than it should have to work out that the light wasn't seeping through the curtains, telling him that it was morning already. The light was artificial, glowing from the lopsided lamp resting on the table next to his bed. Morning hadn't snuck up on him again, it was still late into the night.

A frown spread across his face when he lifted his head from the pillow and brushed his tangled hair behind his shoulders so he could see what was going on. And a sigh parted his dry lips when he looked up.

"Are you gonna try and get some sleep?" His voice was thick with sleep and gruff from only just waking up.

He pushed himself up to sit beside (Y/n) who was propped up against the headboard with one of Eddie's magazines resting on her lap. She didn't look all that invested in reading what it had to say, she didn't look like she was actually here. The look in her eyes was as if her body was here but her mind and soul were a million lightyears away.

"Not yet."

(Y/n) tore her eyes away from the magazine so she could turn to the left and press a quick kiss against Eddie's temple. He knew what she was doing. She wanted him to lay down and go back to sleep so he wouldn't know when or indeed if she managed to fall asleep after him.

"Babe, you're tired, I can tell."

(Y/n) bit down on her tongue to stop herself from trying to deny it. Lying to Eddie wasn't worth it when he always knew if she wasn't telling the truth. And what good would denying it do? They both knew he was right, they both knew she was exhausted beyond belief and that her body was crying out for sleep. It was (Y/n)'s mind that was preventing that from happening.

When he took the magazine from her lap and tossed it somewhere on the floor, (Y/n) sank her teeth down into her bottom lip and let her eyes bore into the poster opposite the bed.

She didn't want to go to sleep. She didn't want to lie down in the darkness and wait for bad things to happen. (Y/n) didn't want to risk going back to that place again when she closed her eyes.

Her arms coiled into her chest when Eddie looped a careful arm over her waist and perched his chin on her shoulder. The way he looked at her made (Y/n) want to melt and cry at the same time and she kept her gaze on the poster so she didn't crumble beneath those chocolate eyes.

"I don't want to go to sleep." Her words were as soft and lulling as a whisper on the wind, but they held such weight that it caused stones to settle in the pit of Eddie's stomach.

He sighed into her skin and tilted his head down to press a tender kiss against the junction between her shoulder and neck.

"Have you actually slept at all this week?"

The hidden meaning behind Eddie's words was clear and (Y/n) felt the way he sighed into her neck when she didn't answer him.

She hadn't had a full night's sleep since the incident at Nancy's house last week. (Y/n) had barely managed two hours a night since then, if she was lucky. The first two nights since the incident, (Y/n) didn't sleep at all. She stayed up with a movie playing in the background or just crying into the darkness.

Sleep didn't feel safe anymore. Not when closing her eyes made her vulnerable to the darkness that had tried to take her. It didn't matter that (Y/n) had only been lost in that darkness, those memories, for minutes, barely accounting to half an hour. It had felt like she had been stuck for days, weeks. The darkness enclosed around her. The things she had seen scarred her mind. She barely managed to get back from that trance-like state and every time she closed her eyes, (Y/n) felt like she was putting herself back in that situation.

She didn't know how Eleven slept at night when it felt so prominent and dangerously close to going into that mind space where both girls tried to search for people using their powers.

"Babe, you need to sleep." Eddie stiffened and waited in uncertainty when (Y/n) started to move. For a dreaded moment, he thought she was about to climb out of bed and walk away. He thought she was going to go into the living room and discard this whole conversation.

But he was taken by surprise when she turned around to face him and burrowed down into his chest instead. Her head tucked beneath his chin and her arms bound around his chest as she curled up into his side like a frightened kitten seeking protection and reassurance.

He attached his lips to the top of her head as both arms bound around her waist and he began to feather his fingers up and down her waist.

"I'm scared," (Y/n) closed her eyes tight, cringing that she even thought these things, let alone that she was telling Eddie. "I c- I couldn't get back, Eddie. I fell through memory after memory, t- then nothing. No noise, nothing around me… it was like I was falling, endlessly."

(Y/n) didn't have to connect the dots for Eddie to see where she was going with this, and she was glad. She was glad she didn't have to explicitely say that she was afraid that when she closed her eyes, it would all happen again. She had been lost in the darkness. One moment she was falling through so many memories, some belonging to Chrissy, some belonging to Vecna. Then there was nothing.

She could feel herself shaking, feel her body going on overdrive and her mind raging and scattering and it wouldn't stop. It hurt so much. And now, when (Y/n) tried to sleep she woke up in fright like she had flatlined and been brought back to life again.

She was afraid of going to sleep and not being able to find her way back to reality again.

She felt Eddie murmuring "Okay," into her hair before his arms slowly unravelled from her and he shuffled out of bed. Her eyes followed him, curious and suddenly afraid of what he was doing. But at least he wasn't telling her she was being silly, that was her biggest worry. That was why she hadn't told anyone else.

She couldn't tell her parents for obvious reasons, and she didn't want to tell anyone in the group and have them pity her or tell her that she was being silly. That it wouldn't happen as she had never become lost like that when she went to sleep so it would never happen. But Eddie was different. He wouldn't say things like that and he was nothing if understanding of other people's problems.

Uncertainty blossomed in (Y/n)'s eyes as she watched Eddie rummage around the floor which admittedly wasn't as clean as when (Y/n) usually came over. Eddie had a strange system in his room, it looked ungodly and messy, but he knew where every item was. But whenever (Y/n) came round, he tried to make it look tidy and tried to put things away. He hadn't bothered tidying today.

He scanned the floor until he found the worn grey box filled with cassette tapes and he crouched down at the foot of the bed to scan through the box. It took Eddie a few moments to search through his music to try and find a tape that would fit what he was about to do.

Once he found one, he grabbed his tape player and placed it down on the floor beside the bed and plugged it in.

(Y/n)'s eyes narrowed as she suddenly heard one of Eddie's mix tapes sound throughout the bedroom. He adjusted the volume until it was low enough that he would be able to sleep, but still prominent to serve as background noise. This particular tape had a lot of guitar solos and less singing and lyrics, and the drums were rather heavy and collateral so the beats would echo through the room and make it seem louder on particular songs.

When Eddie crawled back into bed, he laid on his back with one arm tucked behind his head and his right arm stretched out towards (Y/n). She took the invitation happily and inched across until she was tucked up into his side with her cheek pressing down against his chest.

"We're gonna listen to mix tapes all night?"

"Hm, no." Eddie mused with a soft grin as he nuzzled his lips and nose into her hair. "We're gonna try and get some sleep, babe."

(Y/n) didn't know that Eddie would be able to sleep with music on in the background serving as a great distraction. He was always so wired that (Y/n) presumed this would keep him awake, and she still didn't want to sleep no matter how her body was crying out for rest and recovery.

"We're gonna sleep with the music playing and the lamp on, so that you won't be in darkness, and you'll have something to focus on if you think you're gonna get lost. You can find your way back to me."

Eddie didn't know what he could do to try and make this easier for (Y/n) because he knew her fears were valid. She might not have ever gone into one of those trance states while she was sleeping, but what happened last week at Nancy's house had never gone so horribly wrong like that before. It had frightened everyone.

So if (Y/n) was afraid of going to sleep, then Eddie would do anything in his power that he thought might make the transition easier for (Y/n).

He hoped that having the light on would stop her mind from even debating going into one of those trances because to do that she usually wore a blindfold. The light would be distracting. And he prayed the music would keep her mind here, with him.

And if (Y/n) did drift, there would be a light for her to she wouldn't be in the dark and the light and music would give her something to ground herself to and find her way back to Eddie.

He was sure he heard her murmuring "Thank you," into his chest and it made him smile into her hair as he tightened his arm around her and squeezed her against his chest.

But even as his own mind started to calm and drift off, he couldn't help but think back to what happened last week and how things had gone horribly wrong. That night had changed everything. Was (Y/n) ever going to be able to get a full night's sleep again? Would she start to sleep with background noise or music for the rest of her life?

That night had traumatised her, and it broke Eddie's heart.

***

(Y/n) looked down at the red and gold bandana in the palm of her hands that was supposed to make do as a blindfold. The material felt even softer between her fingers than she remembered, almost as if she were touching gold thread.

She was so used to seeing the material tied around Eddie's forehead or hanging in his back pocket that actually holding the bandana in her hands felt strange and surreal. But she needed something to use as a blindfold. And before Nancy had chance to run upstairs to her room to find a scarf, Eddie had whipped the signature bandana from his back pocket and placed it into (Y/n)'s lap.

This had been so much easier before, when she did this to find Billy with Eleven or when she was simply trying to better her intuitive powers and search for friends.

(Y/n) wasn't used to being the one to do this. It had been Eleven who had found Will and who ultimately found Billy. It was her who always wore the blindfold and went searching through the minds to find who or what they were looking for.

This felt more like a party trick where (Y/n) was concerned, she felt like she was still learning her trade and was only good to show off when playing games with friends. But this wasn't a game. This was serious. They were trying to find out what was harming and effectively killing the kids at school, and (Y/n) wished there was another way of doing this.

But Eleven wasn't here. Mike and Will weren't here and they were running out of ideas and places to go to find clues and answers.

Her thumbs began to glide across the soft red fabric before she lifted her head and looked around the group.

It felt strange to be the one sitting in the middle of this makeshift circle that seemed to happen without any of them realising it. Usually Eleven was the one in the centre of everything, (Y/n) preferred sitting on the outskirts. This made her feel like the centre of attention at a party, and that was her worst nightmare.

She looked over at Steve, Robin and Dustin who were all sat in front of her and she could see Nancy out the corner of her eye, sitting on her left. She couldn't see Max who was somewhere behind her next to Nancy, and she couldn't see Eddie either, but she didn't need to. She could feel him hovering closer than anyone else like he wanted to sit in this makeshift circle with her.

"What… what exactly am I looking for?" The nervousness was clear in (Y/n)'s voice as she looked around the group.

She couldn't do this if she didn't know what she was supposed to be searching for. (Y/n) didn't know what kind of clues she was supposed to search out. Nancy or Dustin would be better at this, but alas, it was (Y/n) who had the abilities no matter how often she wished she didn't.

"Anything to do with Vecna."

Dustin's words made (Y/n)'s shoulders slump and her lips parted into a frown. How did that help? How on Earth was she supposed to do that?

"You do know how this works, if I don't know what he looks like, how do you expect me to find him?" There was a sharp edge to her otherwise deflated words and she glanced back down to the bandana that felt like a pendant keeping her grounded.

They didn't even know the name of this 'entity' that they were sure was causing all of this havoc. They only named him Vecna because it matched one of the characters from the DnD book. They knew absolutely nothing about him, his name, what he looked like, who he really was or what he was or why he was doing this. They were blank on almost everything and that made it very hard for (Y/n) to do this.

She couldn't very well start searching if she didn't know what she was supposed to be looking for. She had been trained to search with her mind by locating people from pictures. They had no picture of Vecna.

"Uh, should- should we really be trying to find him? Isn't this dangerous?" Eddie hated to be the downer on the group, he really did. He wasn't usually the one sat in the corner voicing concerns, he was usually the mad one leading the rabble into strange games and dares. Or when things got too real and risky, Eddie would quietly back away and turn his back at the first sign of true, real danger.

But this was regarding (Y/n), and she changed Eddie's perspective on just about everything.

He didn't want (Y/n) to feel like she had to do this and he didn't want her to be doing this if it was going to put her in danger or cause problems. What kind of problems, Eddie had no idea, but he didn't want any repercussions because of what they were doing. None of them were experts and they weren't exactly well knowledged. Whatever the guys had gone through before with this other worldly, upside down theory, it wasn't the same this time. And that made Eddie nervous.

"What about Chrissy?"

All eyes flitted across to Max who had her fingers tapping on her crossed legs and her long ginger hair just about to fall from its bobble at the nape of her neck.

"I think she's dead." Sarcasm clung to Robin's words as she frowned and looked to Max like the young girl didn't know where she was or what she was talking about.

They were all sat here because Chrissy was dead, she had been found in the woods, looking like she had been dropped off the edge of a cliff with how mangled and disorientated each limb was. They couldn't exactly ask (Y/n) to go and find a dead girl and ask her through her mind what she thought was happening and what Vecna looked like and what they should be searching for.

"No, there could be a memory of her somewhere in there, a memory of what she saw before she died. That could give us a clue." Nancy motioned her hand as she spoke like she was winding up an invisible toy to get her point across.

Wherever (Y/n) went when she started to search for people through her mind and her powers, it was sort of like the upside down. It was here, but not here at the same time. It was darkness and puddles of water and an image of a person she was searching for.

There might well be a memory of Chrissy, wherever (Y/n) went when she looked for people. And if she found that memory, she might just be able to see what Chrissy had seen and give them some clue. Any little token (Y/n) could find would help them on this strange quest.

(Y/n) nodded and tried her best to smile. Chrissy would be easier to search for than whatever and wherever Vecna was. At least (Y/n) knew what Chrissy looked like and if she couldn't find a faint memory of her, then it wouldn't be (Y/n)'s fault.

"Okay."

With a deep breath, she looked across to Steve who turned around and grabbed the radio behind him.

They were all in the basement of the Wheeler house, sat on the rug in the centre of the room like they were trying to perform some strange séance.

Steve sat the radio in between his legs and started fiddling with the tuner until it wasn't plugged into any specific station. Instead of music, a crackling display of static blundered through the air on a quiet low frequency and it was almost calming to listen to. Steve could understand why this would help put (Y/n) into some trance-like state, it was something he himself could easily fall asleep to.

(Y/n) took another deep breath and fidgeted from left to right, making sure she was comfy and her crossed legs weren't going numb before she lifted the bandana. But before she had chance to tie it around her head, she felt a set of firm ringed fingers clamp down on either shoulder.

The feeling of Eddie's hair tickled the back of her neck as his chin hovered over her shoulder and his lips attached to the shell of her ear. It didn't look like a very intimate act to the rest of the group, but to (Y/n), it sent her heart haywire to feel her boyfriend so close and clearly so nervous.

"Are you sure about this?"

If she didn't want to do this or had any doubts then Eddie would tell the group to back off. He didn't care, he would happily tell them that they couldn't just plate all of this responsibility and guilt onto (Y/n) and force her to do this if she didn't want to. She wasn't obligated to help them, she wasn't a lab rat or a toy to be messed with whenever they needed her.

But when (Y/n) nodded, Eddie tightened his hands on her shoulders and sighed against her ear. Part of him had been hoping she would shake her head or whisper that she was afraid and didn't want to do this, because he didn't want her to.

Eddie had never seen (Y/n) do this before and he didn't like the sound of her wandering in a dark place, trying to find memories and clues. It didn't seem safe.

Eddie muttered a soft "Alright babe," and took the bandana from her hands, making sure it was folded in half so it would block out the orange glow of the main light and the two lamps in either corner of the room. He tied the red cloth at the back of her head and leaned over her shoulder to press a tender kiss to the nape of her neck.

He went to shuffle back into the circle beside Max and Dustin, but he paused when (Y/n)'s arm quickly flung around behind her. Her hand curled around his wrist, preventing him from moving too far away.

She wanted some sort of touch to ground herself, something to keep her calm and stop her from panicking or overthinking. Eddie would keep her calm.

He shuffled forward again until he was knelt behind her, his knees close to her bum and his eyes trained on the knot in the bandana at the back of her head. He gently wriggled his hand around until their fingers were entwined and (Y/n) was holding his hand instead of his wrist. He began to glide his thumb across the back of her hand in a rhythmic motion like he was strumming the strings of his guitar.

There was no denying that Eddie didn't like this situation, his displeasure was clearly written across his face. He found it hard enough to wrap his mind around the fact that his girlfriend had 'powers' like the kind they read about and made up in their game nights. But actually seeing her do this and seeing her so nervous, it didn't sit well with Eddie.

(Y/n) always hated this part. She hated being surrounded by darkness, yet still being able to see. She hated having nothing around her, as if she had been dumped onto a world of nothing. No air, no noise, no people, no tress or grass or mud roads. No windows or doors, no way of escaping because there was nothing to escape; everything was one long stretch of darkness with a floor that was always lightly coated with water like an endless puddle.

Finding people wasn't always easy, they didn't always appear in front of her. Sometimes (Y/n) had to search for them. Sometimes people didn't want to be found.

When seconds ticked by into a minute, Dustin leaned forward, unable to stop himself from muttering "Anything?" in the hope that (Y/n) was able to see or find something out.

A round of wide eyes and loose jaws flooded the circle when (Y/n) nodded and they all heard Chrissy's name part from her lips like a whisper on the wind. She had found her. This was a big step in the right direction. They might be able to find a clue, they might just be able to learn something now that (Y/n) was around Chrissy.

"She was scared… I- I think she was hallucinating."

Everyone seemed to lock eyes with each other like they were trying to pass secret messages and communications without words. What could Chrissy have been afraid of? What did (Y/n) see to make her think that Chrissy had been hallucinating?

"What did she see?"

(Y/n) felt Nancy's voice near her ear. She could feel the words travelling through the darkness, connecting her to the real world while she was wandering through this one. And she could still feel Eddie's thumb gliding along the back of her hand, although when (Y/n) looked down, there was nothing there. Of course there wasn't; he wasn't in here with her.

What she saw confused her.

"A clock, an old antique, she sees it everywhere." It was some kind of omen.

(Y/n)'s head tilted to one side as she walked behind Chrissy, following her through the woods that had emerged when she found Chrissy. A memory. It wasn't often that (Y/n) got to look through people's memories this way, she usually found someone and listened to what they were saying or tried to guess where they were. Seeing someone else's memories was like she was stepping into their world. It was a priviledge.

There was something about that clock that (Y/n) didn't like. The strike of the hour was wrong. It sounded like the chimes were going in reverse and the clock itself looked broken. It was following Chrissy everywhere. She saw it at school. At home. She heard the ticking late at night. She could see the clock now, here, in the woods.

When a gasp tumbled past (Y/n)'s slightly parted lips and her body stiffened, everyone leaned forward.

Eddie felt the way she tightened her grip on his hand and he inched forwards, resting his left hand on her hip as he tried to stay close but not too close. He didn't want to prove a distraction or get in the way.

"What?"

"She wants to show me something." (Y/n) was talking so slow, as if she was talking through a tape that was being replayed at a slower speed. And there was something soft and distant in her voice like she was a thousand miles away when she was really sat right here in front of them all.

It didn't feel like a good idea.

(Y/n) could feel goosebumps prickling on her skin when Chrissy whipped around as if she had caught a stalker in the midst of following her. (Y/n) felt like hiding, but what could she do? This was a memory, and that was only an essence of Chrissy, a ghost of a memory.

Her eyes were cloudy, like grey marbles that had been slotted into her head and were slightly bulging from their sockets. Her jaw looked like it was cracked and hanging down to one side so that she couldn't close her mouth. Each time she moved her arm or bent her fingers, some part of her joints crackled and snapped like she was breaking out of a cast.

It didn't feel right to reach out and take Chrissy's outstretched hand, but (Y/n) didn't feel able to refuse. No one else could see this last essence of Chrissy, (Y/n) would be the last person to see this part of her, this essence of consciousness. And if Chrissy wanted to show her something, (Y/n) was obligated to listen.

So she reached out for her hand. Chrissy's grip was intense, her fingers were cold and dry and the skin was starting to crack like flaking wallpaper. Her touch was callous yet fierce and the way she yanked on (Y/n)'s hand to pull her closer made (Y/n) want to retreat.

The way Chrissy's jaw unhinged and dropped down made (Y/n) grimace and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes as she watched Chrissy's mouth loosen and drop wider like a gaping cavity. And suddenly her eyes were no longer grey like glossed marbles, they were gone. Leaving gaping bloodied holes in their wake.

With a swift tug of her arm, (Y/n) was yanked forward and the memory of the woods Chrissy had been in when she died was gone.

She was falling. Falling. Falling.

She wanted to scream, but no noise left her mouth. Her arms flailed but there was nothing to reach out for, nothing to hold on to. There was just darkness as she fell and tumbled and silently screamed into the darkness.

But then she landed.

A hiss emitted from Eddie's lips when he felt (Y/n)'s hand suddenly clenching around his own. It felt like her nails were ripping through his skin and she squeezed so much that his knuckles creaked and started to push together. If she held him any tighter she was going to pop his knuckles out of place and cut off the circulation to his fingers.

But it was the way (Y/n)'s head suddenly jolted back that made Eddie shudder and caused everyone to freeze.

What was she doing? What kind of memory was Chrissy showing her? Was she even okay in there?

Eddie's arms jolted and his chest ached and tensed as (Y/n)'s body suddenly lost all composure and she jolted back like she had been electrified or even pushed. He surged forward and pressed his chest up against her back, catching her before she collided into him and knocked them both to the ground.

He encased his arms around her middle, his right hand still held in her death grip. He felt (Y/n)'s head rebounding against his left shoulder and he twisted to look down at her, confusion and terror building up in his eyes as he tried to see what the problem was. But he could feel each breath that (Y/n) took; she sounded like she was drowning, gasping for air.

Eddie had never seen her when she went into one of these trance-states, but by the panicked looks he was receiving, he guessed that this wasn't what usually happened. The only thing he knew was normal was the small droplet of blood trickling from her nostril. He had been warned that she would have the tiniest nosebleed, so at least that wasn't something they should be worrying about.

"(Y/n)?"

"(Y/n) what's wrong?"

The circle seemed to enclose around them, caging Eddie and (Y/n) in the centre so the group could try and see what she was doing and try to help. Nancy was cautious when she rested her hands on (Y/n)'s arm and shoulder, she knew that too much noise and touch could be distracting when (Y/n) was trying to do this, but something was clearly wrong.

"Babe? Hey, hey, talk to us."

When she didn't make a sound and didn't give any of them an answer, Eddie moved his left hand so he was cupping (Y/n)'s jaw. He tried to nudge her, to give some kind of stimulation to get her talking because they couldn't do anything if they didn't know what was going on.

The rabid look in Eddie's eyes was almost as frightening as seeing (Y/n) go unresponsive and begin to shake in his arms. Clearly nobody knew what was happening or what to do.

With his lips curling into a snarl, Eddie let go of her jaw and reached out for the bandana across her eyes. A quiet grumble of "Fuck this," spat past his lips as he ripped the bandana off and tossed it on the floor. He didn't care if this brought (Y/n) out of her trance and ruined whatever she was trying to see. Whatever was happening wasn't worth the panic and the discomfort it was clearly causing (Y/n).

Horror struck a cord within Eddie when he looked down at (Y/n)'s eyes. He had been pondering whether she kept her eyes open behind the bandana or whether she closed them while this happened. But he knew instinctively that right now, what she was doing wasn't normal.

Her eyes were shaking from left to right so fast it made Eddie's own eyes wince in pain. But her eyes were half rolled to the back of her head and they looked positively grey. That wasn't normal. It couldn't be.

Before Eddie had chance to try and ask Nancy what the Hell was happening, his arms jolted and he heard the group shrieking.

They all watched as that one droplet of blood from her nose turned into a river. A gushing, horrible river of blood that now poured from both nostrils and drenched her lips and down her chin. Eddie had been told to expect a small slither of blood, not a tidal wave. This wasn't normal. This had never happened before. They couldn't let (Y/n) stay in this trance, wherever she was. Whatever she was seeing was clearly doing something bad to her and they needed to bring her back.

"What's happening to her?" Steve knotted his hand into his hair at the back of his head and started to pull until it felt like he was going to rip out a clump of hair.

Was she having some kind of seizure? This had never happened before. Steve had seen (Y/n) do this twice and this reaction didn't occur and nothing like this had ever happened with Eleven either.

"Jesus Christ! Bring her back. How do you normally bring her back?!" The bitter tone in Eddie's voice made everyone shake and their worried eyes darted to him before looking at one another. The lack of response was enough to cause Eddie's snarl to worsen and a growl rumbled deep within his chest.

They didn't know.

"She- she just, comes back by herself. She's never done this before." Nancy's head shook along with her hands that were still gripping (Y/n)'s shoulders, trying in vain to rouse her and gain her attention to draw her friend back to reality.

They never had to bring (Y/n) back, they didn't know how on Earth to do that or if it was even possible to bring her back. (Y/n) wandered into that trance state and she always came back out rather easily. Sometimes she was shaken but she always came back to reality.

Dustin reached out for the radio in front of Steve and promptly turned it off. The background static was only going to help keep (Y/n) in that state and right now they needed her to come out of it.

They all seemed to break the circle they had been sitting in and scattered around, either moving closer or pushing back to create some space.

Eddie shuffled back until he was near the sofa and he eased (Y/n) off his chest until she was laid on her back on the floor. But his right hand remained in hers, mainly because (Y/n) had such a tight grip that he feared he would break his hand if he tried to escape her hold.

His other hand cupped the side of her face and tilted her head back so he could look down at her. He nudged his hair back over his shoulder so it wouldn't get in the way and he hovered over her, trying his best to wrack his brain for some idea of what to do and how to help her.

"Baby, baby come on now, come back. (Y/n)! (Y/n), I don't like this." He tried everything he could think of.

He dragged his thumb over her lower lip, something he knew drove (Y/n) wild. He shook her head and her shoulders, he patted her face to try and stimulate her and he even leaned over and began to click his fingers near her ear to try and get her back into some sense of focus. Nothing worked.

Her breathing was still shallow and raspy, her eyes were still jerking from side to side and almost completely rolled to the back of her head. Her body was still shaking and jittering against the floor.

"The radio."

"What?"

"The radio." Robin rasped as she scraped her knees on the carpet to grab the radio from Dustin. "Loud noise, it- I don't know, it might stimulate something or distract her and bring her back somehow."

She quickly turned it back on and began trying to tune into any station frequency she could find. It might not work, but Robin knew (Y/n) said no distractions as they would make her lose concentration and stop the trance. Loud music blasting close by would definitely count as a distraction and it might just help her find her way back.

A loud symphony of rock music blasted through the basement and had everyone cringing and cowering, but it didn't seem to do much in the way of bringing (Y/n) out of this frightening state.

Eddie's trembling hand went back to cup (Y/n)'s face and he lightly started to shake her head from left to right. But his body jerked and coiled inwards when a echoing bang popped through the air. Everyone gasped and scrambled closer to the centre of the room to be away from the lamp in the corner when the bulb exploded.

Tremoring breaths left Eddie's lips as he looked from the lamp to Steve who had his hands clasped over his head to shield himself from the broken fragments of glass.

He curled over (Y/n), becoming more frantic in his attempt to wake her up when nothing seemed to work.

All of them could feel their panic rising when the lamp on the side table next to the sofa began to whistle and the light shone so bright it was as if the sun had been captured down here with them.

Max and Dustin shielded beside the sofa while Robin, Steve and Nancy inched closer to Eddie. All of them curled around (Y/n), huddling together when the second lamp burst.

"Jesus!"

Eddie could feel tears welling up in his eyes as his wet lips began to wobble and pant with each strangled breath he took. He could hear the main light in the ceiling begin to whir and whistle and he was sure Steve started to shake when they heard the radio switch frequency to about three different music stations, all on its own. Was what (Y/n)? Or was it whatever entity she was encountering wherever she was?

Trembles started to take over Nancy's body and her eyes snapped closed when the lights started to fade and dim to pitch black. She wondered for a moment if her ears had started to ring and tune out and if the lights had all shattered without her hearing a sound. But when the main light and the lamp started to brighten once again, it was as if a storm had passed over them.

The radio turned itself off. The lamp stopped whirring and whistling and the lights went back to their pale yellow hue and their dim brightness. It was as if the atmosphere was calming itself back down once again and the storm had passed them by.

All of them lifted up from their cowering states to try and check on each other and look around as if they expected to see a dark shadow leave the room to show them that everything had settled back down again.

With shuddering breaths and his chest heaving like he had been drowning, Eddie tried once again to pat (Y/n)'s cheek now that the shaking had subsided in her system and her eyes were no longer frantically searching the room.

"(Y/n)-" Eddie broke off into a shriek when a guttural scream wrenched past (Y/n)'s lips and coursed through his blood.

He watched in agony and sheer confusion as (Y/n)'s tremoring eyes blinked back into focus as if she had only been unconscious for a millisecond. The grey had disappeared and those beautiful yet somehow broken eyes were back to their usual colour once again.

Her free hand suddenly clenched around Eddie's bicep so tightly he felt like a rabid dog was biting him and he held down a groan when she clenched his hand and he was sure he heard a knuckle pop.

Another scream tore past (Y/n)'s lips as she surged forward until she was sitting upright rather than laying down.

She could taste blood on her lips and the back of her throat. Her lips rolled together and her tongue ran along her lips before she spat and sobbed, trying to rid the tang of blood from her mouth. She could feel the blood drying on her mouth and chin like paint that was flaking with every move of her lips and jaw.

Tears soaked into her face and another scream left her lips. It felt like (Y/n) had lost the ability to speak, all she could do was scream and shriek to express the torment she had felt and been through. Everything inside of her was churning and revolting against her.

Horrible sobs wracked past her lips as she finally let go of Eddie's hand in favour of looping both arms around his neck. Her face meshed up into his shoulder and she sobbed into his shirt, cowering and trembling against him as she screamed into his chest.

"Hey, woah, baby it's okay. It's okay, shh, you're okay." He murmured shakily against her temple as he quickly weaved his arms around her waist to try and calm her down.

One hand cradled the back of her head and his other arm encased around her lower back. He held her close like he was trying to tuck her into his heart and he began to slowly sway them both from side to side as he gasped and took strangled breaths that mingled in with her hair.

His dark brown eyes scanned the room as a look of malice took over Eddie's face and his upper lips curled.

Was this what they wanted? Was this what they anticipated when they pressured (Y/n) into this? Is this the kind of reaction they had been expecting, or did none of them take one moment to think about the repercussions this might have on (Y/n)?

"It's okay, it's okay."

They had petrified her. And for what? Was what (Y/n) encountered in there worth the trauma they had caused her and the fright they had given each other?

Was this worth it?

[hotshotsxyz]

living lies and compromise

(8b spec) (buddie) (879 words) spoilers for 8x08! set a few days after eddie returns from texas and i still managed to make it angsty :) i bet you'll never guess what band i stole the title from

The knock on Buck’s door isn’t entirely unexpected. He doesn’t know what to do with it, though, doesn’t know how to exist in this strange liminal space where Eddie’s back but everything is still different.

A few months ago, Eddie would’ve used his key and walked straight in. A few months ago, Buck would’ve welcomed him with open arms. As it stands, he hesitates. Just for a moment, but—

It’s been a long time since Buck was hesitant with Eddie. He hates it.

He opens the door, and the smile he greets Eddie with feels brittle and fake.

“Hey, man,” Buck says, trying trying trying to make it come out right. He hears it, though—it doesn’t sound the same.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. He hoists a six pack in the air, and if Buck squints he can almost pretend this is exactly what it used to be. That they’re what they used to be.

“Come—come in,” Buck invites. He can’t remember the last time either of them waited for permission like this.

Eddie swallows visibly and steps into the loft for the first time since—god, he’s not actually sure. Right after Halloween, maybe?

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He drops the beer on the counter but makes no move to grab one.

Silence stretches between them. It’s not uncomfortable, necessarily, but it’s also not the kind that falls when everything that needs to be said is out in the open and everything left can wait.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Eddie says finally, achingly quiet.

Buck shakes his head. “I am, of course I’m happy to see you,” he says.

“Please don’t do that.” Eddie’s eyes are wide and sincere, and if Buck’s not careful—

“Eddie,” he says, pleading, “I am, you have no idea.”

“Then why…” He gestures vaguely at the space between them. Why the distance? Why the reticence? Why aren’t they falling together the way they always have?

Buck bites his lip and steps into Eddie’s space to grab a beer for himself. He retreats, but he doesn’t go far.

He pops the cap off and sighs. “You left,” he says simply.

Eddie stumbles back against the counter. “But I came back,” he says. “And I thought you understood.”

Buck offers him a sad little smile. “I did. I do. But—coming back wasn’t the plan.”

“Did you… not want me to?” Eddie asks, small and a tiny bit incredulous.

“No,” Buck says, watching as Eddie’s disbelief turns to hurt. “I didn’t want you to come back. I needed you to.”

A wounded noise escapes Eddie’s lips. “I did,” he says.

“What about next time?” Buck asks. He wishes he didn’t sound so raw and ragged, but it hardly matters when Eddie’s the one listening.

“What?” He breathes, punched out like a cough.

Buck looks over Eddie’s shoulder, out the window and into the vague glow of night in Los Angeles. He takes a swig of his beer.

“I need you, Eddie, I still—the whole time you were gone it felt like—like I was missing a limb. And I can’t—I can’t keep needing you like this, not if I don’t get to keep you,” Buck admits. “So I just… I have to figure out how to stop. But I can’t do that when you’re here.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says desperately. “Please don’t. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”

“I’m not sure I know how to survive believing that again,” Buck replies.

Eddie takes a step forward, close enough now that Buck can feel his breath ghosting across his skin.

“Look at me?” he asks.

Buck’s never been able to deny him much of anything.

“I kept looking for you. I’d see something funny and I’d turn, because I wanted to see your reaction. The front door would open, and I kept thinking you were going to be the one to walk through it. Hell, every time I went to the grocery store I wanted to call you to make sure everything we needed was on the list.”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

His hand drifts toward Buck’s shoulder, just like it always seems to, but this time it doesn’t stop. Eddie reaches until his fingers are resting against Buck’s neck and his thumb is slowly sweeping across his jaw.

“You need me?” he asks.

Buck nods.

“Good,” Eddie says in a rush of air. “Because I need you too, okay? So please don’t stop, please don’t pull away. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump. He takes the last step forward and pulls Buck into a tight hug.

There’s this thing Buck’s been trying not to look at. It’s been growing in size, taking up more and more of his field of vision since the moment Eddie left for Texas. It’s been fuzzy and hard to discern, difficult to ignore but easy to avoid putting a name to. As he melts into Eddie’s arms, though, everything comes into sharp relief.

It’s need. It’s want. It’s love.

And the thing is, Buck knows how this goes. But what the hell? It’ll be a privilege, getting his heart broken by Eddie Diaz.

He clings a little tighter.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Figuring it Out Together. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *Fluff*

Summary: Eddie's girlfriend finds out she's expecting, at 17. She goes to Eddie's to tell him the news.

Word Count: 1.1k

TW: Listen, I love a good pregnancy trope. Teen pregnancy. Reader being scared. Mentions of Wayne smoking. Eddie trying his best, but he needs to read the room. Difficult decision of keeping the pregnancy. Eddie giving Wayne gray hairs.

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

Her throat felt tight as she knocked on the trailer door, waiting on the porch for someone to answer. 

She turned to stare at the green and white van parked in the muddy dead grass off to the side of the trailer, which meant Eddie was home and she actually had to have this conversation with him. 

The door to the trailer squeaks as it opens, making her turn around. 

“Hey, kid. Come on in, it’s freezing out there.” Wayne greets her, opening the door more for her to come in. “You okay? You look like you seen a ghost.” He asks her, throwing his arm around her back to try and comfort her.

She nervously shuffles in, seeing Eddie on the couch with the tv louder than it truly needed to be. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I thought you had an appointment after school?” He gets up from the couch, wrapping her up in a tight hug. 

A few tears roll down her face as she feels him embrace. 

“I did. That’s what I need to talk to you about, Eddie..” She sniffles and wipes the tears from her cheek with her fingertips. 

Wayne raises his eyebrow. He wasn’t born yesterday. He knew exactly what this conversation was going to be about. 

He clears his throat, making both of the teenagers look at him. 

“I’m going to head outside for a smoke. Give you two some privacy.” Wayne grabs his carton of cigarettes and his lighter, looking at Eddie’s girlfriend quickly. He gives her a small nod and a barely noticeable smile before grabbing his coat and walking out of the door. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, rubbing her shoulders for comfort. 

She nervously pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth, trying not to make eye contact with him. 

“Baby?” He bends down to look her in her eyes, his eyebrows raised quizzically. “You’re scaring me because you’re not talking to me. What’s going on? Did something happen at school? Or at your appointment?” 

Her bottom lip quivers as she looks into his dark brown eyes, the dam breaking and fat tears rolling down her face again. She sniffles as she covers her face with her hands, swallowing the sobs she wanted to let out. 

“Wh-?” Eddie furrows his brows in concern, wrapping her shoulders in his arms and smashing her into his chest. “Baby, what’s wrong? Please talk to me. You got me thinking you got told you have six months to live or something.” He presses a kiss to her hair, before letting her go. 

Her eyes were already puffy from the tears, the whites of her eyes watery and slightly red. “Eddie.” She sighs shakily. “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes look up at him, waiting for him to have a reaction. 

His eyes grow wide immediately, his mouth hanging open. After a few seconds of silence, which felt like hours, Eddie sucks in a breath. “Alright… okay…” He nods his head, now chewing on his lip. 

“Please don’t be mad. I’ve been crying for the past hour, I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do.” She sobs, pulling away from him. 

“Wait, I’m not mad. I’m not mad.” He grabs her shoulders softly. “This lands on me too, sweetheart. I’m pretty sure it was my fault anyway.” He sighs heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck. “That night I didn’t have a condom. I was thinking with the wrong head.” He chuckles. 

“Oh my god, Eddie.” She pushes his arms off of her, turning and walking away from him angrily. “This isn’t a joke! We are going to have a child! Do you get that?! A tiny thing that is going to require constant care for the rest of our lives!” She yells, frustrated at how Eddie wasn’t freaking out like she was. 

“I don’t know how else to deal with this without making jokes.” Eddie follows after her. “I’m just as scared as you are. I just… I just want to be here for you. I know this is a lot scarier for you than it is for me.”  

She sinks down to the couch, burying her head in her hands. “Eddie.” She sighs. “What are we going to do? What the hell do we know about having a baby and raising it? We’re kids! We haven’t graduated yet! Oh my god.” She whispers to herself. 

“Can you look at me for a second?” He rests his hand on her back, rubbing it in small circles. 

She drops her hands from her face, leaning back on the couch, still sniffling. 

“There’s lots of people that don’t know what they’re doing and they have kids. We’ll figure it out together. I-if you want to. What are you thinking as far as… keeping it? D-do you want to, um… what do you want to do?” 

“I don’t know… I haven’t had much time to think about it.” She rubs at her forehead. “I mean, what do you think? Do you think we can do this? By the time I have the baby it’ll be May. It’s going to be so close to graduation and finals and stuff. I don’t want to drop out, I don’t want you to drop out. We’re going to have to figure so much stuff out. I have to tell my parents, oh god I have to tell my parents.” She huffs, throwing her head back against the back of the couch. 

Eddie touches her knee, grimacing to himself. Her parents were not a fan of Eddie by any means, and this wasn’t going to win him any points.

“Despite all that… yeah, yeah I think I want to do this.” She turns to look at Eddie’s face. “I think I want to have your baby.” 

 “So, a May baby, huh?” He smiles, trying to make her feel better. 

She rolls her head to the side, looking at him with a weak smile. “That’s what you took from that conversation? That they’ll be here in May?” She shakes her head, huffing out a small laugh. “Do you really think we can handle this? Being parents at 17?” 

“I think we can handle it. We might not have a clue but we’ll be clueless together. And I’ll be here with you through everything, I promise. I’m not going to be some dead beat that’s going to make you do this by yourself.” 

She sighs shakily, putting her hand on top of Eddie’s. “I guess we’re going to do this? Add to the teen pregnancy statistics.” She jokes. 

“Yeah, guess so.” Eddie says, taking her hand and kissing it. “How about we go tell Wayne? He’ll be easier to tell than your parents.” 

“Yeah no kidding. My father might actually strangle you.” 

The door opens, Wayne cautiously walking in. “It’s pourin’ out there. Is everything okay here?” He asks, shaking his damp coat out before hanging it up. 

“Uh well.” Eddie grunts as he gets up onto his feet, clearing his throat. “Do you want to be called Pop-Pop Wayne, PawPaw Wayne, or the classic Grandpa Wayne?” He tries his best to lighten the mood, using his best southern drawl.

“Oh my god.” Wayne and say in unison.