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steveseddie · 7 months ago

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i’ll save you a seat

steddie | rating: t | cw: none | wc: 3,5k | tags: eddie has a crush on steve, pining, eddie sits on steve’s lap as a joke, but steve turns the joke on him, twice

a/n: inspired by this post from @rogueddie (hi hello big fan of your headcanons)

click here to read on ao3

By the time Eddie comes back to the living room, carrying two bowls of popcorn, his friends have taken every available spot on the couch and on the floor.

It’s a full house tonight at the Harrington residence with El, Will and Jonathan visiting from California plus the local pipsqueaks, Wheeler, Buckley, Eddie and the host himself.

Eddie spots Steve on the couch and he marches over to him, ignoring the grunts and grumbles from the kids as he steps over them where they sit on the assortment of pillows and blankets laid on the floor. On his way over, Eddie hands one of the bowls to Mini Byers and the other one to El, knowing that out of everyone on the floor, they’re the most likely to actually share it. Meanwhile, Buckley and Jonathan are already holding their own bowl each, meant to be shared among the grown-ups piled on the couch.

Usually two bowls are enough, but given that there’s more of them tonight, Steve had to bring out two more JiffyPop and he asked Eddie to bring them back while he got everyone settled in the living room.

Which means it’s Steve’s fault that there’s no room left for Eddie to sit.

Okay. Maybe there’s actually room for him to sit. Maybe Eddie could take the free spot on one of the blankets right next to Max. Maybe he could steal one of the many pillows that Henderson is hoarding and comfortably enjoy the movie.

The thing is he doesn’t want to. He always sits next to Steve when there’s fewer of them and he’d hope tonight would be the same, but that spot is currently occupied by Buckley, who isn’t going to move no matter how nicely Eddie asks, and since Steve’s other side is squished against the arm of the couch to make enough room for four people to sit on the otherwise three-people couch, Eddie can’t ask him to scoot over.

And before Eddie sucks it up and sits on the floor, he’s going to whine about it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t save me a seat, Stevie,” Eddie pouts, standing between his legs.

Steve’s big Bambi eyes blink up at him. “I tried, Eds, but Robs threatened me so I would give her your spot.”

And oh- Eddie didn’t actually expect Steve to try and save him a seat, he was just messing with him. The fact that he apparently did makes Eddie’s stomach flutter.

Next to Steve, Robin smiles smugly at him.

“You’ve fought monsters from another dimension and you’re afraid of Birdie?” Eddie asks, huffing indignantly. Buckley flips him off.

“She threatened to bite me, man!”

Eddie tsks. “You survived several bites from hell bats, you could’ve let her bite you.”

“You let her bite you then!” Steve counters, lightly kicking Eddie’s leg.

“I don’t want to bite either of you,” Robin says, her nose scrunched up. “I want to watch the movie. Dustin, hit play,” she says, throwing a kernel at Henderson’s head, who grumbles and crawls over to the VHS. “Eddie, sit down,” she says, throwing one at him too.

Eddie gets an idea and he grins maliciously.

“As you wish, my lady,” he says with a flourish of his hand.

Then Eddie turns around and flops down on Steve’s lap.

Steve lets out a yelp. “Jesus, what are you doing?”

“Buckley said to sit down,” Eddie shrugs, glancing at Steve over his shoulder. “And since there’s no room, thanks to you, I’m taking the last available seat.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “My lap?” Eddie nods smugly. “Eddie, there’s plenty of room on the floor.”

“But this is more comfortable, Stevie.”

“For you, maybe,” Steve snorts, pinching Eddie’s side. “Your tailbone is digging into my leg, Munson.”

“Well, Harrington, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d save me a seat!”

“Shhhh!”

Eddie flips Buckley off for shushing them. She glares at him for bickering when the movie already started playing.

Okay. Maybe Steve was right to be afraid of her- she has a very mean glare.

“Fine,” Eddie concedes before Buckley actually bites him. He sighs dramatically, “I guess I’ll sit on the floor like a dog-”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally everyone else is sitting there and no one is complaining-”

Eddie ignores him. “And here I thought you liked me, Stevie, cared about me. I thought we were friends-” he says, clutching his chest.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters in exasperation.

But when Eddie tries to stand up, Steve’s hands grab his hips, pulling him back into his lap. He flails and almost topples over onto Robin and Steve’s grip on his hips tightens.

“Dude, stop moving.”

“I’m trying to get up!” Eddie says, throwing his arms up.

Steve sighs. “Just-” He trails off, instead manhandling Eddie until he’s properly sitting on his lap and not sliding off of it, and wrapping his arms around his waist, trapping Eddie against his chest.

Eddie lets out an entirely involuntary, undignified squawk. Blood starts rushing to his cheeks alarmingly fast. “Um, Steve, what are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable,” Steve says, his cheek squished against Eddie’s shoulder.

A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Dude, I was fucking around, I can sit on the floor-”

“And spend the rest of the movie whining and pouting? No, thanks. Just don’t move too much, okay? Your ass is boney.”

Unable to help himself, Eddie gives a tee-hee giggle. “So many dirty jokes I could make.”

Steve squeezes his side. “Don’t-”

“Shhhhh!”

This time, it’s not just Buckley shutting them up, everyone else joins in.

“Just watch the movie, Eddie,” Steve whispers into his ear so he doesn’t disturb the others.

Eddie has to bite his bottom lip to keep quiet when he feels Steve’s warm breath tickling his neck. “Okay,” he says, his voice coming out a little squeaky.

But Steve doesn’t comment on it, simply tightens his arms around Eddie’s waist and leans back against the couch, bringing Eddie with him so they’re basically spooning.

Eddie nervously glances around the living room, but no one is paying attention to them. Well, no one except Robin, who’s staring at them, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Eddie ignores her and the knowing smile that stretches over her lips, trying to focus on the movie.

But try as he might, he can’t pay attention to it- not when he can feel Steve’s breath against his neck, his arms around his waist, his chin hooked on his shoulder and his solid body underneath him.

Being so close to Steve- on top of him, makes Eddie jittery and restless. But he can’t move, Steve told him not to, so he tries to sit still.

He lasts, approximately, five minutes.

Soon, he starts wringing his fingers together on his lap, playing with his rings.

Steve notices, and with a huff that sends shivers down Eddie’s spine when his breath tickles his neck, he grabs Eddie’s hands and traps them against his stomach.

Eddie’s eyes fall to their hands, and his breath catches in his throat at the way their fingers rest intertwined against his stomach. He can’t look away- not when Steve’s fingers start drawing patterns over his skin, tracing the veins in his wrists, playing with his rings, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

Eddie has to bite down on his tongue to stop himself from squealing. It only gets harder to keep quiet when something funny happens on screen- not that Eddie knows what is going on at all- and Steve laughs right in Eddie’s ear, squeezing his middle.

This time Eddie does let out a squeak which he hopes passes off as a laugh.

It doesn’t.

“You okay?” Steve asks, and Eddie doesn’t know how he expects him to give a coherent answer when he can feel Steve’s nose poking his cheek.

Their faces are so close that if Eddie turned his head to the side his lips would brush against Steve’s, he would only need to lean in an inch or two and he’d be kissing him-

“Eds?”

“Mhm, I’m great, Stevie boy!” Eddie says with a slightly strangled voice, but it’s enough for Steve, who turns his attention back to the movie.

Eddie still has no idea of what’s going on, but he tries his damnedest to focus on that instead of focusing on all the ways Steve is touching him right now.

He didn’t plan for this- he just wanted to mess with Steve a little and now he’s the one being messed with.

Not that Steve knows what he’s doing. He would never fuck with Eddie like this if he knew about his big crush on him. He’s just oblivious- and incredibly touchy when it comes to Eddie.

Which makes the remaining forty minutes spent in Steve’s arms both Eddie’s personal heaven and his personal hell.

That’s why when the credits starts to roll, Eddie lets out a relieved sigh. He expects Steve to push him off right away, but he doesn’t, not even when little by little everyone starts to clear out. Buckley jumps to her feet and clumsily sprints towards the bathroom, the kids all rush to the kitchen to raid Steve’s pantry while ignoring his protests and Nancy and Jonathan start gathering the pillows and the blankets scattered on the floor.

Meanwhile, Steve squeezes Eddie’s side again and asks right into his ear-

“You’re spending the night, right, Eds?”

He knows Steve means to sleep. They talked about it when they realized that with Nancy and Jonathan both coming to movie night, Eddie wouldn’t need to drop the kids off afterwards so he could sleep over. It’s nothing new- they’ve been doing it for months. It’s just the way he’s asking right now, quietly and right into Eddie’s ear, his arms wrapped around Eddie’s middle- all of it makes Eddie’s stomach flutter wildly.

“Y-yeah, sure thing, Stevie.”

“Okay, good,” Steve says, giving Eddie’s waist one last squeeze before finally pushing him off him and onto the couch gently so he can deal with whatever mess the kids can be heard making in the kitchen.

Eddie slumps against the couch, sighing wistfully. Despite everything, he already misses the way Steve felt under him, how his arms felt around him, how his fingers felt playing with his own.

“You good, man?” Jonathan asks, pausing as he folds one of the blankets to raise an eyebrow at him.

Eddie gives him two thumbs up that Jonathan accepts with a nod before he goes back to the task at hand, chatting with Nancy about the movie. Eddie is lucky that they don’t ask for his opinion on it- he doesn’t know if he’d be able to lie convincingly.

Soon enough everyone is saying goodbye to Eddie and Steve before some of them climb into Nancy’s car and the rest do the same in Jonathan’s. They don’t question that Eddie is staying- the only one who acknowledges it is Robin, who gives Eddie that same knowing smile from before. And just like he did before, Eddie ignores it.

Once it’s just the two of them, Steve starts guiding them to his bedroom.

Eddie stopped sleeping in a guest room a long time ago after one night when a particularly awful nightmare had him knocking on Steve’s door and crawling into his bed.

The next day, they both admitted it was the best sleep they’d had in weeks.

The next time Eddie spent the night, Steve had led them both to his bedroom right away- just like every night after that.

“What did you think of the movie?” Steve asks, digging through his closet for sleeping clothes.

“Um,” Eddie starts, trying to remember at least one thing about the movie he can comment on but coming up blank. “I, uh, didn’t pay much attention to it.”

Oblivious to the reason why Eddie didn’t pay attention, Steve hums. “Not your thing, huh? Next movie night you can be the one to pick.” He turns around and tosses some clothes at Eddie, who fumbles to catch them- and fails. Steve sniggers at him before he starts looking for clothes for himself.

Eddie picks his up- a pair of Steve’s old basketball shorts and one of Eddie’s own band t-shirts that he must’ve left here at some point. Or Steve might’ve grabbed from his trailer. Beds aren’t the only thing they share these days.

“Will you save me a seat next movie night?”

Steve glances at Eddie over his shoulder, his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Maybe I’ll just have you sit on my lap again,” he says with a wink. Good lord.

Eddie makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat at the thought of another movie night spent on Steve’s lap. Then, before Steve can ask if he’s okay, he gestures to the bathroom and locks himself there to change.

When he comes back out, Steve is starfished on his bed, wearing his own pair of basketball shorts and an old swim meet shirt.

Eddie takes a moment to stare at him- the way the shorts ride up on his legs, the way his arms bulge even when he isn’t flexing them, the way his hair fans across his pillow.

Then he impulsively sprints towards the bed and launches himself on top of Steve.

He lets out a pained noise when Eddie lands on him, knocking the wind out of him, but his hands come up to grab Eddie’s arms, holding him in place and not letting him slide off him and onto the bed like he intended to.

“Seriously, dude?” Steve asks, slightly out of breath.

Eddie laughs into his shoulder. “Sorry, Stevie, I couldn’t help myself.”

Steve huffs. “I’m starting to think you like being on top of me.”

Eddie shrugs. “Actually, I usually picture you on top.”

Steve snorts out a startled sort of chuckle, eyebrows raised in amusement, and Eddie’s cheeks blaze red as he belatedly realizes what he just blurted out.

He doesn’t know what to do next. If he should play it off as a joke or climb off of Steve and run out of the house-

He thinks Steve is making the decision for him when he adjusts the grip he has on his arms. He thinks he’s about to shove Eddie off, tell him that it’s never gonna happen, Eds.

Eddie starts to push himself up, feeling embarrassed already-

But then Steve digs his fingers into his arms, and in one swift movement, he flips them over so it’s Eddie laying flat on his back on the bed with Steve hovering over him, smirking playfully. “Like this?”

Eddie blinks at him, waiting for his brain to restart after completely shutting down from how effortlessly Steve flipped them over.

“I- huh? Steve- what-”

“You said you like to picture me on top,” Steve says, shrugging casually. Their hips are pressed together and their faces are only inches apart- Eddie doesn’t understand how Steve can act casual about anything right now. “Personally, I don’t have a preference. I also liked being under you.”

Eddie splutters. “S- Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve asks innocently, tilting his head like a confused puppy. His hips shift and Eddie realizes just how thin the material of their shorts is. Jesus H. Christ.

“What the fuck?” Eddie mutters.

“What the fuck what?”

Steve can’t be this oblivious, for fuck’s sake.

Eddie covers his face with his hands, taking a deep breath. “Jesus fuck, okay. Steve, when I said- I didn’t mean it as a joke, okay? I didn’t mean to say it at all, but I- our crotches are basically pressed together right now and I can’t not say it. I have a fucking- honestly a fucking embarrassing crush on you so when I said I think about you on top of me, I meant it, and I meant it in like, a sexual way and a- a romantic way and I know you’re joking right now, but this- well, this is about to get reeeally awkward really fast if you don’t get off of me.”

Eddie peeks through his fingers and finds Steve biting his lower lip like he’s thinking something over.

“Do you want me to move?”

“Fuck, no,” Eddie admits with a sigh. “But Steve-”

“Eddie, hey,” Steve cuts in, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and trying to move his hand away from his face. “Look at me.”

With another sigh, Eddie complies, lowering his hands and looking at Steve.

“There you are,” Steve says, his eyes softening when they meet Eddie’s.

“Steve-”

“I’m not joking,” Steve tells him. “I like you too, Eddie. Romantically, sexually, all of it.”

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He blinks at Steve. “But- but you’re- you’re straight.”

“I’m not actually,” Steve snorts. When Eddie just stares at him, mouth agape, he sighs. “Eds, I let you sit on my lap for two hours, I basically spooned you.” He looks down between them and looks back at Eddie with a raised eyebrow. “I’m literally straddling you right now-”

“I’m aware,” Eddie mutters, his voice coming out slightly strangled.

Steve ignores him. “And I really really like you, so- definitely not straight.”

Eddie lays there in silence for a few seconds as he tries to wrap his head around the fact that not only is Steve Harrington into guys, he’s into Eddie.

“Holy shit,” he says finally and then, “why- why didn’t you say anything? You had to know I like you back.”

Steve gives a half shrug. “I thought I’d ease you into it first-”

“Ease me into it?” Eddie’s voice is about an octave too high. “You call this easing me into it? I think my brain melted out of my ears when you flipped us over like that!”

Steve raises an eyebrow at him. “Well, you sat on top of me first! I was just taking a page out of your own book-”

“What book? There’s no book! I was just joking, you were the one who trapped me there!”

“Well, when the guy you’ve had a crush on for months sits on your lap you don’t let him go,” Steve admits, shyly ducking his head.

Eddie gulps. “Months?”

“Yeah, Eddie, months,” Steve admits, his fingers absently playing with Eddie’s hair where it fans across the bed.

“Holy shit.”

“You’re just gonna keep saying that?” Steve asks with a sheepish grin.

“What do you want me to say?” He’ll say anything Steve wants him to just to keep them both like this.

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s mouth. “Nothing, actually,” he says, licking his lips. “I want you to kiss me.”

Holy shit, Eddie thinks to himself, and then without another thought, he surges up, looping his arms around Steve’s shoulders as he all but mashes their lips together.

Steve hums into Eddie’s mouth and melts into him, kissing Eddie back. He lowers his arms, holding himself up with one elbow, using his other hand to cup Eddie’s head, fingers tangling in his hair. His lips move against Eddie’s so tenderly and slowly that it makes his stomach fill with butterflies.

Then Steve tongues gently at Eddie’s bottom lip and the butterflies explode.

Eddie immediately parts his mouth, giving Steve permission, and his eyes nearly roll back when Steve slips his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. Eddie cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, giving it a soft pull, causing Steve to make this punched-out groaning sound. Chasing that sound with his tongue, Eddie carefully explores every inch of Steve’s mouth.

Eventually, Steve starts to slow down the kiss, but Eddie doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to breathe, he just wants to kiss him, but he can’t do anything when Steve leans back and out of reach, the lower part of his body trapping him against the bed.

Unless-

Eddie grabs Steve’s arms and tries to flip them the way Steve did earlier but, while he made it look easy and effortless, Eddie can’t find enough leverage to budge Steve and he flops back down.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie huffs. “How did you make it seem so easy?”

“It is easy,” Steve says with a grin. “You’re just not strong enough, baby.”

Eddie squeals at the pet name- and then squeals again when Steve successfully flips them over again so that Eddie is straddling him.

He grins up at Eddie, that lopsided boyish grin that drives Eddie crazy and that it’s only worse now that Steve’s lips are red and slick with spit. “How’s that?”

“Hot. Christ, that’s fucking hot,” Eddie says with a breathless chuckle.

“So, that’s a yes to being on top?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow, his hands grabbing Eddie’s hips like they did back on the couch. Only this time Eddie isn’t planning on getting off of him any time soon. Preferably never.

“Sweetheart, that’s a yes to absolutely anything ever.”

Steve bites his lip, then he asks softly, “What if I ask you to be my boyfriend?”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “You-you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Pretty fucking badly actually,” Steve shyly admits.

Eddie whimpers softly. “Holy shit,” he mutters. Then he swoops down and gives Steve a kiss that he hopes translates to fucking shit yes!

By the way Steve laughs delightedly against Eddie’s lips, he thinks he gets the message across.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #will i ever get tired of writing gay disaster eddie? not a chance #steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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jamdoughnutmagician · 4 months ago

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Not whilst Teddie's around (18+)

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings:Fluff, Smut (but like the softest sweetest mushy-gushy kind) cock-waming, kissing, cuddling, horror movie mentions

Word count:1,705

writing this fic was an UPHILL BATTLE, so I'm sorry for the questionable quality, but it's finished at least.

Eddie Muson Masterlist // Main Masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

“Dude, I’m telling you, horror movies get chicks wetter than you can even imagine. Trust me.” Gareth swears downing the last few sips of his beer.

“Yeah right, like any girl in her right mind would let you come within a ten-foot radius of her, let alone get close enough to get all up in her ‘sex-o-sphere’” Jeff laughs incredulously at his friend.

It was the way that all Corroded Coffin jam sessions ended, with a few beers and typical guy talk.

“You know Cindy Nolan? Works down at the roller-rink? We’ve been hanging out, and I rented Friday The 13th the other night, let me tell you that that girl couldn’t get any closer to me if she tried.”

“Yeah right, you’re full of shit Emerson.” Brandon said, shoving his friend with a nudge of his elbow.

“No, no, come on now, let’s hear him out. Maybe you two girlfriend-less losers could learn a thing or two from him.” Eddie says, shushing Jeff and Brandon’s guffawing. Truthfully, Eddie himself was eager to hear what Gareth had to say. Not that he thought he needed any help with his love-life, far from it, actually. His relationship with you was perfect in his eyes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn a thing or two.

“So we're watching the movie right? and it gets to the real scary bit, the music's all tense and shit, and she's pressed up against me, tucking her face into my shirt, and that's when I make my move.” Gareth says, throwing up finger guns.

“Your move?” Eddie asks with a raised brow.

“Yeah, the ol’ ‘yawn-and-stretch’, I fake a yawn and then I stretch my arm around her shoulder. Then to really sell it, I hit her with the ‘don't worry, I'll protect you from the scary serial killer.’ spiel. From then on, she's practically eating out the palm of my hands. Horror movies, I'm telling you guys, are the way to go.”

Both Jeff and Brandon hold their hands up in defeat.

And all that was on Eddie’s mind was that he was definitely going to have to swing by Family video to check out their selection of horror movies.

You rounded your way into the living room with the freshly popped bowl of popcorn getting ready to settle next to Eddie under the throw blankets on the couch.

“So what movie did you pick up for tonight?” you asked, reaching for a handful of popcorn.

He flashes you the vhs cover, a jack-o-latern pumpkin with a knife. He gives you a wide and boyish smile as his deep brown eyes sparkle with a cheeky glint. Tonight was the night that he was going to put Gareth’s claim to the test. He had swung by Family Video right after band practice and slapped Halloween tape down on the counter, causing Steve to roll his eyes and let out an annoyed huff. Oh yeah, Eddie had his plan all figured out.

“Jamie Lee Curtis is an absolute force to be reckoned with in the movie.” he says, reaching over to steal a few pieces of popcorn out of your hand.

This is where your tastes in movies differed from Eddie’s. You were more John Hughes, where the laughs were aplenty and the guy got the girl, whilst Eddie was much more John Carpenter, where the screams were aplenty and the killer got their victim.

But despite horror movies not being totally your thing, you were willing to sit and watch if it made Eddie happy.

Snuggled up to Eddie, with the soft blankets keeping you both cosy, he pressed play on the movie.

You wish you could say that you weren't scared, but then you would be lying. Laurie Strode was certainly a much braver woman than you could ever be, because the very idea that Michael Myers was still on the loose sent a shiver down your spine in the worst way. It didn't matter how much you tried to reason with yourself that it was just a film, and that it wasn't real, the scared and uneasy feeling had your heart pounding against your chest as you tucked your face into Eddie's shirt. Hoping that hiding away in the familiar comfort of your boyfriend would go someway to quell the racing of your heart.

Eddie felt terrible. Scratch that, he felt worse than terrible. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world. As the tense music in the movie swelled, more and more he felt you shrink into yourself and tuck yourself away into his chest. You were scared and it was his fault.

Flicking the remote at the tv to pause the film Eddie softly turns his attention to you.

“Hey, you know we don’t have to watch this if you don’t like it.” he says, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“But I know you like this film, so I thought we could watch it together.”

“Sweetheart, you've had your face hidden in my shirt for almost the past hour, it's okay if you're scared, I'm not going to be mad at you.”

“I'm sorry Teddie, I just really don't like scary films.”

“Come on, nothing’s going to hurt you, not whilst Teddie’s around.” Eddie says, flicking the tv off and throwing the blankets off your bodies before taking your hand in his. “How about we head off to bed, where we can snuggled up and I can keep you safe in my arms.”

Cuddled into Eddie’s chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively, you feel his lips softly kiss the crown of your head. It’s safe, it’s comforting, it’s everything that you need right now, but somehow it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Eddie feels you squirming in his hold and so he rubs his hand up and down your back in his best attempt to ease you.

“What’s going on with you, huh? You’re still scared about that movie?”

Wordlessly you nod your head, feeling so stupid for letting a fictional murderer frighten you like this.

“You know I’m not going to let anything happen to you right? I’d fight Michael Myers a hundred times over if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Just want to be close to you tonight.” you say softly, as you looked up at him from underneath your eyelashes.

“Yeah? You mean close to you like this?” he says softly as his hands began to wander underneath your oversized sleep-shirt. Underneath your shirt where your skin is soft to his touch. Soft and warm, and the sweet scent of your coconut body wash still lingers on your skin.

“Wanna feel you, please..” You plead, your eyes almost sparkled in the cosily-lit bedroom.

As if he could ever say no to you.

Reaching down between your closely pressed bodies he stroked a hand over himself, already half-hard, because truly it didn't take much to get him excited. Everything about you drove him wild, and just the intimacy of getting hold you close in his arms stirred a growing heat in the pit of his stomach.

He works on taking his boxers off, whilst you work on sliding your panties down your legs and once there is nothing separating you from him he slides himself into you. Filling you slowly to just let you feel every inch of him. Eddie knew that you loved feeling him like this, loved the feel of him inside you. Two bodies moving together as one. Your leg hitched up around Eddie’s slim hips, with your heel pressing into his backside, urging him closer and closer to you.

“This what you wanted, Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice rasps out as his lips kiss just below your ear, finding that steadily racing pulse point in your neck. “Just wanted to be close to me, isn’t that right?”

You nod against Eddie’s chest, moaning softly when he shifted his hips ever so slightly.

Eddie manoeuvred around with you in his arms laying you down on the bed, caged safely underneath him.

“You're so beautiful.” He smiles, brushing a stray hair from your face, his deep brown eyes so entirely focused on you. You're the centre of his universe, there's not a moment that he's not thinking about you. And there's no place he'd rather be than right here with you.

Slowly he rolls his hips into you with deep, steady strokes. Drawing back just enough until his tip remains, before sliding himself home into your heat.

Your breath is stolen from your lungs every time Eddie fills you. Playing your body in the perfectly precise way that only he knew how.

Your nails leave little red half-moon crescents in the pale skin of his shoulders as you hold him close, for fear that if you didn’t you might float off into a universe. The calming warmth of Eddie’s skin on yours is the thing that always grounds you to reality. His touch feels like home.

His skilled fingers reach down between your closely pressed bodies to rub eager circles around your clit.

“Just want you to feel good, pretty girl.” his praises rumbled from the back of his throat, heavy with adoring desire.

Your quiet whines turn into breathy moans with every roll of his hips, whilst his deep groans of pleasure are muffled into kisses pressed to the column of your throat.

“I’m close, Teddie..” you manage to get out between unsteady breaths.

“I know, pretty girl, I got you.” he kisses your lips sweetly.

With a few more well-precisioned thrusts he takes you over the edge of pleasure, guiding you through your shuddering high.

And with you looking every inch the goddess of his dreams splayed out underneath him, squeezing him through your orgasm it didn’t take very much before Eddie was stilling his movements, spilling his release into you with a shuddering moan of his own.

He held himself on his forearms above you to brush a thumb over your flushed skin.

“I told you, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’m going to keep you safe. Always.”

And you believed him. Because if it was one thing you knew with certainty, it was that Eddie Munson was a man of his word.

@penguinsandpotterheads @sweetdreamjellybean

@mrsjellymunson @eddiesxangel

@userchai @aphrogeneias @sidereustales

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x female reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 5 months ago

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hold me like water

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader in the aftermath, you and Eddie learn how to live again.

foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD… lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft… not done w them yet!!

cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini

wc: 3k

___

For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.

More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie.

While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall.

Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud.

After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously.

Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head).

The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.

It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more.

The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.

Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”

“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”

Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks.

“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”

You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.

Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.

“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.

The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).

Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.

Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.

By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries.

They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.”

“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips.

The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers.

Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf.

Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore.

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home.

Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.

You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie’s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.

Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of.

When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends.

Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry.

The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.

Sex has been… different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.

The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds.

You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.

Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.

And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh.

You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release.

“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”

As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to.

There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap.

He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good.

If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness.

Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths.

Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you.

A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.

If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.

Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along.

Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.

He’s dumbstruck with it.

That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.

It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.

He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing.

You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.

“Come swim with me.”

In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge.

Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity.

Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through.

So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.

“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”

“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”

The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time.

“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.

Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.

Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops.

The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”

“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”

Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye.

“I love you.”

“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest.

Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is.

You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.

___

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x shy!reader #shy!reader

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friendlyneighborhoodslut · 5 days ago

Text

The Roommate Agreement | 3-The Agreement.

Pairing(s)/Tropes—Eventual Steve Harrington X Reader, slow burn.

Summary—Three boys and one girl under one roof proves to be more difficult than they thought. To restore peace in the land, an agreement is made.

Warnings/Extras—strong language, drinking and smoking, bugs, sexual tension, MDNI-18+! Let me know if I missed anything!

MASTERLIST | | PREVIOUS PART | | NEXT PART

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Jesse was a very messy individual when he lived in 406D. The baseboards are caked with dust, the windows have a strange film on them and the carpet is littered with mysterious stains. I spend several days deploying an arsenal of chemicals to tackle the mess, windows open and chill August air drafting through the room. After a particularly grueling day on my hands and knees scrubbing at the spots on the floor to very little prevail, I decide that a quick spray of disinfectant before covering it with a rug is my best bet. I dig through the closet in the hallway for a broom to dust the cobwebs in the corners, coming up empty-handed.

“Boys,” I breathe, entering the living room. The three of them sit in the living room, smooshed onto the couch and flipping through TV channels. They perk up to look at me. “Where’s the broom?”

“In the trash, along with the mop after Eddie and Jesse used them to joust,” Steve says casually, clicking buttons on the remote.

“I won, by the way,” Eddie grins, pointing at himself.

Steve looks to him, bewildered. “You did not.”

“Right. I’ve gotta go check on the storage unit anyways so, I’m going to run to the store and pick up some furniture and supplies that are for cleaning only,” I give Eddie a pointed look and he rolls his eyes. “Anyone care to lend a hand?”

“We’ll take my car,” Ben stands, brushing some crumbs off his shirt from the chips he was munching on.

“Your little Mazda’s not gonna fit everything…” I trail off, raising my brow at Eddie.

He scoffs. “Oh, okay. So we all hate Gloria until she’s useful,”

“You named the van? You weirdo.” Steve says, eyes never leaving the TV.

The van—Gloria—really is a disgrace to motor vehicles everywhere. It’s a death box on wheels. I’m pretty sure the engine is powered by dust and spite, and it’s got this rattle when left idling for too long. I’m not sure how a mechanic lets his own car get so out of shape—But Gloria’s got space, and we’re gonna need it.

“Alright, fine. But no one drives my babygirl but me, so… I’m coming with you,” Eddie stretches out of his seat.

Steve stands too, running his hands through his hair. I swallow hard and try not to stare at them.

“Our first adventure as a family, how exciting!” Eddie exasperates dramatically, arms outstretched at his sides.

“Shut up, man.” Steve snickers, grabbing Eddie’s keys out of a glass bowl by the front door and tossing them at him. Eddie catches the keys, blowing a kiss to Steve afterwards, earning him a cacophony of groans and eye rolls.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

The car wobbles side to side, tossing me around in my seat. Eddie swerves all over the road like a maniac, dodging pot holes and probably a few stray animals. Ben sits in the front seat, yelling at him. Steve and I occupy the back seat on opposite sides. My whole body burns and tingles, my palms sweat as I chew on my nails and stare out the window. I swear can feel his eyes on me but I’m too terrified to look, as I might just combust on sight if I’m right.

It’s been a century since I’ve had a crush on someone. I’ve forgotten how miserable it is: constantly checking that my hair looks okay, hoping my makeup hasn’t smudged, scared to even breathe wrong.

This sucks ass.

A massive cement building comes into view and we pull into the parking lot. The department store is surprisingly empty on this Sunday afternoon, and Ben tells me it’s because most people in Chicago are already out drinking this time of day.

Steve pipes in with his agreement and I make the mistake of stealing a look at him. I just can’t help myself, but I immediately regret it. He’s already looking at me, hair tussled to one side and mustard sweater bunched up at his midsection as he leans against the backrest, lips parted slightly and staring at me with those big brown eyes.

I’m doomed.

The vacant isles of the store are illuminated by an uncomfortable white light that occasionally flickers. I feel like we’re in a low-budget horror movie, an unsettling and eerie feeling sitting thick over the air. Feeling suffocated, I pick up my pace towards the Home and Kitchen section.

“Look at this fuckin’ thing,” Eddie says like a child discovering something for the first time, slapping a giant fuzzy rug hung on a rack. It wiggles under his pressure and he’s transfixed, disregarding our existence.

I shake my head. “Never shopped for rugs before. Where do I even begin?”

Ben gives me a breathy laugh, squeezing my shoulder. “I'll look for one and make him haul it to the car. Any color preferences?”

I shrug. “Cheapest one. And uh, don’t let him pick something stupid,” I find amusement in Eddie’s antics, and he clearly does as well.

“Harrington, you're on furniture duty,” Ben puts on his best serious face, pointing at his best friend like a drill sergeant. He jogs backward, disappearing into the rug aisle. "Don't screw it up!" echos through the halls, dampened by the walls of carpet, lampshades and throw pillows.

I giggle, wrapping my arms around myself anxiously and swaying in place.

He gleams down at me, arms open at his sides. "What's first?"

I rub my eyes, needing to do something with my hands despite it smudging what little makeup I had the energy to put on today. "Pray to any God willing to listen that this doesn't permanently annihilate my bank account." Joking usually helps me feel better about situations like this, but this time it's just straight-up depressing.

But Steve, ever a ray of sunshine, breaks through my gloom with his light. "It's not all that bad. Let's see... what do we need?" He spins around, taking it all in. "Bed, nightstand, dresser, all that stuff right? You'll need a bed tonight, that's non-negotiable--but I've got a friend who owns a thrift shop on The Loop with her girlfriend. They're always getting furniture in there. Bet they'd let us snag some stuff at a good price," he's rambling now, talking with his hands as we stroll the rows of overpriced furniture.

I just listen to him talk, the sound of his voice entrancing.

God, I've got to get away from this man.

"Thank you, Steve. I really appreciate it," I smile meekly, reaching to mess with my hair but stopping myself right before.

"Anytime, Sunny." he responds quietly, and butterflies assault my stomach.

I want to ask him about the nickname, but I don’t want to spoil the moment. Honestly, I don't have the emotional capacity to handle the--probably dull--answer either. I like to think it means something, but the likely case is that it's a placeholder; An easy gateway to forgetting me when my residence in Apartment 406D comes to an end. It's not like I'll be spending the rest of my life with these guys. My brother, sure, not that I've had much of a choice. I'm stuck with that jerk until I die.

Steve and I pick out the cheapest--yet somehow still outrageously priced--bed and mattress the store offers. Steve rolls them out on a bright yellow cart provided by the cashier. The others have obviously been waiting for a while, as Eddie smokes a cigarette under a streetlamp a few feet away while Ben leans against the outside of the passenger door skimming through a packet of papers.

I squint against the encroaching darkness, making out the big University Housing Office title through the transparent page.

If your stomach can physically drop into your ass, mine definitely just did.

"Oh, shit," I use my last bit of breath to whisper to Steve.

He pauses to observe my brother's scowl. "He looks pissed."

For the second time in a week, I accept my death.

Ben hears us approach and looks up at me through his eyebrows. There he goes, looking like our dad again. I tremble.

I'm fucked.

He waves the packet in the air. "What's this?"

Steve leaves the cart next to the van and retreats to Eddie, leaving my brother and I to talk.

Traitor, don't leave me here!

"I was gonna tell you," I lie.

He glowers. "No, you weren't."

"Yeah, you're right, I weren't," I blurt out in distress. "Fuck, wasn't. No, I wasn't gonna tell you,"

"You realize I'm a lawyer, right? I can help you contest this," he offers.

"You're a baby lawyer and you've done enough for me by letting me live in your house," I counter.

His features soften and then, to my complete shock, he laughs. I'm apprehensive, waiting for him to pull out his typical disapproving glare and snide remarks that remind me I’ll never be as smart, cunning, or on top of things as he is.

"Trust me, Bug. You moving in does me a more of a favor than it does you," he tugs on my shoulder, gently directing me to look at Eddie and Steve. He points at them as we watch them visibly argue about something, only catching the tail end of their dispute.

"Goddammit Harrington! Do it or I'm gonna kiss you myself!" Eddie threatens, tensing in a wide stance. I furrow my brows and wonder what on earth they must be discussing.

Steve puts his hands out in front of him, bracing himself. "God, you're so weird! Why would you say that?!"

Eddie lurches forward and Steve takes off down the parking lot. They chase each other around light posts and parked cars.

"...is this a frequent occurrence?" I ask Ben quietly. I swear anytime I see those two in the same room they're bullying each other or…flirting? Challenging each other? I don’t even know.

He nods. "Oh yeah. They've been friends since high school. More siblings than friends, if I'm bein' honest. Guess they uh, both lost a lot of people back home. Came to Chicago together for a fresh start,"

We're both quiet for a long minute, listening to their voices echo through the desolate parking lot.

"Yeah, you're saving me from living alone with those two. We needed another adult in the house," Ben cackles, swinging the van door open. He wiggles the papers between us. "We're gonna fix this, okay?"

I purse my lips and nod, blinking rapidly to avoid spilling any tears. He frowns and pulls me into him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The tenseness in his body loosens a bit but not enough to break down the walls he's built, but I'll take the progress, as he creeps a little closer to feeling like the big brother I remember.

"C'mon. Let's go home." ⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Ben did an excellent job picking out a mock vintage rug with an array of colors that perfectly covered all of the mystery spots on the floor. I laid it out and put books from Steve’s room at all four corners to flatten it.

After dropping Steve and me off at home, Ben and Eddie went to the storage unit to collect my things. They've been gone for hours, a suspiciously long time for the project at hand, leaving Steve and I to get three beers deep and attempt to assemble my bedframe.

"Jesus, what're these in a different language?" he murmurs, polishing off his fourth beer and lifting the instructions in the air.

"It's upside down, Steven," I can hardly contain my laughter as I say it, giggles slipping through the fingers I cover my mouth with.

"Oh, shit. Yeah, they are," he admits, turning it in his hands. "Ah! There it is,"

"That big brain got you into UChicago?" I flirt on the defensive so I can pass it off as just being mean if I need to.

He smiles, lopsided. "Can you believe it?" he jokes.

"Let me guess. History major," I declare, scooting closer to look at the directions with him.

Though he's not looking at the pages anymore. He's staring a hole into the side of my head.

"Masters," he adds. "How'd you know?"

I shrug, leaving it ambiguous. I don't tell him I'd nosily asked Eddie when no one else was around, or that I'd spent hours on the University of Chicago's website looking at their History Department. Steve is highly distinguished by the History Department as one of their top students with several awards and accredits, but telling him I know that makes me sound like a stalker, so I keep it to myself.

"Y'know, my parents wanted me to go into Business," he slurs his words a bit. I try not to smile at him in a way that seems pitiful. "Didn't wanna end up like my hard-ass old man. It's all about money with him. Not even sure he's got a soul," he reaches behind me, inadvertently wrapping his arm around me to snatch another beer from the pack we left on the floor. Despite the several layers of fabric between us, his touch lights my skin on fire.

I swallow as he cracks open another beer. "I think you've had enough of these," I half-joke, taking it from him setting it on the opposite side of my body. He leans into me in a retrevial attempt but I move away from him. He puts all his weight on my shoulder, knocking me over. I snatch the beer and hold it over my head, barely out of his reach, but he continues his pursuit.

Maybe it’s the fact he’s so pretty, or maybe it’s the alcohol, but I allow his body to envelop mine. He encompasses me, body pressed on top of mine as we wrestle over a singular beer bottle. It’s stupid; he could just grab another one, but he doesn’t. His large hand wraps around mine, tugging the bottle closer to us. I move to use my other hand to free myself from him but he snatches it, pinning it down above my hand.

I giggle uncontrollably, both because I’m drunk and incredibly nervous.

It’s as if the sound awakens Steve from his trance, because he stills against me. Chests flush and noses a mere inch apart, his breath fans my face. He looks, dare I say, scared. That makes tow of us.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, before recovering with a grin. “Always knew we’d end up in this position,” his voice is husky and he smells like a dangerous concoction of beer and cologne. He moves his other hand to my jaw, beverage long forgotten. He softly brushes some hair from my face with a finger, eyeing me intently.

“You’re such a weirdo,” I wiggle underneath him and he tenses, a labored breath escaping his throat. I open my mouth to tell him to get off of me, but the words die on my tongue as I feel something—someone—hard pressed against my thigh. I flush, coughing to have an excuse to turn my face away from him. Suddenly, it’s impossible to breathe. “Uh, Steve, you—“

I hear the front door open.

“We’re home!” Ben’s voice echos down the hall.

Steve and I can’t scramble off each other fast enough, a mess of limbs and strings of curses. He crawls away from me like I’m on fire. Flustered, I fix my hair and readjust my sweater. Steve busies himself with the instruction manual.

Suddenly sober, I watch as Ben enters the room, a ziplock bag in hand. I thank God for the distraction from Steve and lean heavily into it.

“I got it!” He cheers, wiggling the bag in his hand.

I furrow my brows. “You got…what?” I squint to get a closer look at the object in the clear bag.

“The key to solving your Dorm problem,” he moves it closer, and that’s when I see it. The tiny dead bodies of about five cockroaches. “I pulled their dead bodies out of your stuff,”

“That’s disgusting,” I gag, scurrying away from him.

“These little guys are coming with me to Campus Housing. We’re going to get you out of that lease.” He waives the bag of bugs around, and I damn near hurl as I remember the way they felt crawling on my skin. He’s so distracted by his victory, that it takes him a while to catch on to the heaviness in the room. “Hey, you two okay?”

“Yes!” I say a little too loud and fast.

Ben cocks his brow. “Steve, are you drunk?”

“What? No…” Steve squeaks.

“Uh huh…” my brother retorts, eyeing him suspiciously. As he turns to leave, he says “The manual’s upside down.”

“Oh goddammit, again?!” Steve complains drunkenly.

Eddie brushes past Ben in the doorway, leaning against its white frame on his forearm. “Oh, dude!” Eddie whines. “You guys drank all the beer!”

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

Im convinced that sharing a bathroom with two men is a type of punishment in Hell. Toilet seats left up, beard trimmings in the sink, and toothpaste on the counters are just enough of an inconvenience to annoy me. I spent my first couple days cleaning when I’m not in class, seen as I’m the only unemployed one in the house. It’s a bitterly unrewarding task, though, as when the boys come home it’s like a hurricane wrecks the house. Eddie’s the biggest culprit, his motor-oil stained hands infecting everything he touches.

Everyday, I shower after the gym and before my 11AM class. Having memorized the boys’ schedules, I know they should all be at work by now. Singing my best rendition of Taylor Swift’s greatest hits, I step into the shower. I let the water cascade over my shoulders, trying to ground myself in reality. I try not to think about all the anxieties that loom over me.

Campus Housing. The start of college. My brother’s hot best friend that I now live with.

Steve’s either a forgetful idiot or he’s embarrassed about the other night, because he’s yet to mention it since it happened. I know we were drunk but— enough to completely forget? I could never. Mostly because I think I liked it.

The bathroom door creaks open, eerie and slow. I freeze in place, so scared that I wanna turn inside out.

No one’s supposed to be in the house.

I suddenly remember the movie Psycho that Daizy and I swiped from the video store and watched in secret when we were 16. Am I going to die here, naked and wet in the shower like Janet Leigh did, zero dignity to my name.

Heavy footsteps approach the shower. Boots, they’re wearing boots.

Through the sheer shower curtain, I make out the shape of the person. A man, based on their build. Skinny but broad shoulders and arms. He’ll easily be able to overpower me.

I try not to panic, scanning the shower for anything to defend myself. There’s a variety of bottles, a bar of soap and a singular razor that hangs from the mirror nailed to the wall. I snatch it, ripping the head apart to get the blade out of it. I grip the tiny razor blade in my hand, my only source of self-defense.

The man leans over the vanity, turning the sink on and washing his hands. I silently pick up each bottle until I find the heaviest three, setting them at my feet. I brace for a fight, opening the curtain just enough to toss the largest, heaviest bottle at the intruder. I hear the impact from beyond the shower curtain, a groan of pain leaving him. I quickly throw the next one and then the one after that in rapid succession.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” I scream, hopefully loud enough for a neighbor to hear and call the cops.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” Eddie protests. “Can’t a man wash his hands without being abused by shower products?”

I peek my head out of the shower, wrapping the curtain around myself with one hand and holding the razor blade out with the other. Eddie looms over me, hands dripping with a mix of dirt, water, and oil.

“Goddammit, Eddie! I thought you were a predator!” I complain, the tension leaving my shoulders.

“And you were gonna… kill me with a blade from my razor?” He teases, pointing at the minuscule weapon I’d foraged.

I groan. “What’re you doing here anyways? Don’t you have a job or something?”

“Well, I live here. But if you must know, the shop’s closed due to a small fire,” he explains, drying his hands.

“Everything okay?” I gasp, wracking my brain through the possibilities. An engine fire, an oil fire, maybe?

“Yeah, I’m good,” he’s staring at me, eyes growing wider by the second. I—for the life of me—can’t figure out what he’s looking at, until he grins, “mind if I join you?”

“Ugh, gross,” I roll my eyes, closing the shower curtain aggressively. “Get out of here.”

“Breakin’ my heart, Sweetheart!” He sing-songs, pretending like he’s going to pull the curtain back by pinching it ever-so-slightly between two fingers.

“GET OUT, ED!” I screech.

His laughter gets further away until I can barely hear it through the thin walls of this ancient building. I huff, rinsing the soap out of my hair. Once the adrenaline has worn off and my body quits trembling, I laugh despite myself. Eddie’s blatant and unrelenting flirting is flattering, amusing, and terrifying all at once. I convince myself he’s just messing with me, because the alternative freaks me out too bad to even entertain it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

While sipping his coffee, never looking up from his coursework, Steve asked me if I’d like to visit his friend Robin’s thrift shop. The Loop’s occupied by buildings so tall they touch the moon; coffee shops, stores, restaurants… anything you can think of, it’s there. I’d never heard of it until Steve mentioned it. The Loop.

“Sounds made up,” I said over my breakfast.

“Everything’s made up.” Ben reminded me of the technicality, typing furiously at his computer.

When I agreed to go with Steve, his eyes lit up like someone had set a fire behind them. I was largely unmoved by it—I forced myself to be—but Ben shifted uncomfortably, staring at his best friend with an icy glare. They’d talked about something in private while Steve was getting ready in his room, right before we left. I ignored them as I found myself mulling over what to wear. Stupid, for such a basic activity. You’d think I was going on a date with how much I cared.

We stop by a coffee shop right next to the thrift store. There’s a Help Wanted sign taped to the door, and as I order my drink I muster up the bravery to inquire about it. A heavy set woman with a golden name tag labeled TRACY with the title ‘Manager’ scribed at the bottom tells me to come by next week with my resume for an interview.

I’m so giddy about the opportunity that I almost forget to listen to Steve’s order, but I do and commit it to memory.

16 ounce hot Americano with cream and one sugar packet. Somehow, it suits him so well.

I laugh.

“What’re you laughing at?” Steve asks, opening the door for me.

I shake my head and step outside just in time to see a pair of Mallard ducks cross the path, webbed feet flapping against the pavement.

“Holy shit, ducks!” I squeak, enthusiasm comparable to a kid in a candy store.

Steve laughs, a hearty sound that makes my heart flutter. “Yeah, they’re all over ‘round here. They come from the river,"

I kneel down, careful not to let my skirt fly up in the breeze. The ducks--a male and a female--quack, ruffling their feathers as they step a little quicker.

"Aw. They're on a date," I joke, standing up. Our shoulders bump into each other ever-so-slightly.

"Should I go buy a croissant to feed them?" Steve asks, smiling big.

I shake my head. "Bread's bad for them. Corn or oats are better,"

"Putting that biology major to good use," he jokes. His arm stretches outward like he's going to drape it over my shoulders, but flinches last minute and pretends to scratch his head instead.

"Actually," I fumble, hiding my blush with my hands. "I learned that on the internet."

There's that damned laugh again. It's addicting, a rush of dopamine tickling my brain every time I hear it.

I'm suspended in a trance-like state as I follow him to the thrift shop. Hawkins Place Thrift, the degenerated letters on the front of the building read. Baby blue paint peels off the brick and vintage clothes sit on mannequins in the shop windows.

When we enter, a bell above the door chimes. Steve holds the door open for me, and I step inside, the faint smell of cinnamon and apple drifting through the air. The shop is lit by a series of old lamps and candles that cast a warm glow throughout.

"Is that Steve Harrington I see?" a woman's voice calls over the jazz music playing from a record player. I spot her from a mile away, mom jeans and a denim jacket with a puffy polka dot blouse. She's got mousey brown hair that barely brushes her shoulders and a general loving disposition about her, especially as she bolts across the room to embrace Steve in a hug.

He hugs her back and they spin once around. "Jeez, Rob. You act like I died and came back to life or something," Steve chortles.

She lets go of him, a look of annoyance on her features. "You practically did! We haven't seen you in, like, a month! Where have you--"

She looks at me, her jaw hitting the floor. "Holy shit, this is where you've been. You got a girlfriend?!"

My heart plummets into my stomach. It’s not that I mind being called his girlfriend. I do however, mind the look on his face.

"Actually, she--" Steve's cut off by her rambling.

"You're so pretty, oh my God. I'm Robin. I'm Steve's friend, but you knew that," she gushes, ignoring Steve to shake my hand. "Did you guys meet at that rich kid school? What's it called?"

"The University of Chicago, and it's not a rich kid school. Rob listen for a second--" he corrects, hands on his hips and obviously stressed out.

"What do you major in? Sorry, I'm asking so many questions. Steve hasn’t had a girlfriend since--"

"Robin!" the raise of his voice gets her attention. She releases my hands and turns to look at him. He's got a guilty look on his face. "This is Y/N. Ben's little sister," he gestures to me awkwardly. He turns away, but I swear I catch a hint of red flushing his cheeks as he rubs the nape of his neck.

Robin's expression falters but she swiftly recovers. "Ben-Benji! Right! We love Benji, right Steve?"

"Yeah, yeah sure..." Steve's mortified. I can't even begin to react, cemented in place and dealing with my own sick form of embarrassment. I think I’m going to throw up.

"You’re scarin’ the poor girl, Love,” a petite girl in a baby blue dress with short red hair appears from behind a bookshelf, seemingly out of thin air. She swoops in as my glorious savior to diffuse the situation.

Wrapping a soft hand around my upper arm, she tugs me ever so slightly towards her, and I allow it. She could try to kill me in the back alley and I’d let her just to get out of here. Behind us, I hear Robin and Steve arguing in angry whispers.

“I’m Vickie. You must be Y/N. Ben’s told me so much about you,” she gleams.

Seems like I’m a hot topic of conversation to literally everybody.

“It’s just because he loves you,” Vickie says sweetly, pulling me to a reading nook by a big window.

“Shit, did I say that aloud?” I blurt, immediately cringing after the words leave my mouth.

All she does is laugh, gesturing for me to sit in a floral-patterned wingback chair. I gladly take it, sighing as I lean back.

“Sorry about Robin. She can be a bit…eccentric,”

I snort. “Please, that’s nothing. Have you met Eddie? He’s like, the King of Drama,”

Vickie giggles. “Don’t I know it.”

Comfortable silence falls over us as we watch people stroll past the window. As my embarrassment settles, I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous my life’s become. It’s strange, how this is the least uniform my world has ever been, yet I’m the happier than ever. I used to loathe change; I needed a routine and an answer to everything. No unknowns, zero variables—but now that my life is nothing but variables and questions, I actually don’t mind it. It’s exciting in a way.

“What’s funny?” Vickie asks, her voice smooth.

I shake my head. “How much can change in two weeks,” I respond, before adding, “How much I can change in two weeks,”

“Strange how it all works out, huh?”

I peel my eyes from the window to look at her. “So�� what’s Hawkins?”

Her eyes thin. “Hm?”

“The name of the shop. Where’s it from?” I clarify, pointing at the ceiling and imagining the sign hanging above it.

“Ah, that’s right,” she recalls. “It’s, well… it’s home. Or it was, for all of us. Besides you and Ben of course. Where’d you guys grow up, anyways?”

“Houston,” I answer.

“You’re a long way from home,” she teases.

I nod, playing with my fingers in my lap. I could get further, I want to say. I want to get as far away from home as possible. Maybe someday I really will get far. I hear Canada’s nice. “Where’s Hawkins?” I deflect the topic away from myself.

“Indiana,” she swallows, lips forming a tight line. Her expression hollows for a moment, but she quickly brings herself back to earth and recovers with her signature smile. “Not so far from home.” She says it like it's a regret.

My lips form an ‘o’ as I nod, following her gaze out the window. Across the street, a little boy drops his ice cream, and he cries.

What a silly thing to cry about, I think to myself, but then I remember that crying about anything is silly when you really think about it.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

I sit cross-legged on my bed, the evening-setting sun peeking through the curtains and casting a golden glow on the walls. I go over my chemistry notes a million times, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. Every other class was a piece of cake, save for anatomy, which I have yet to tackle.

Daizy sits at the foot of my bed, feet propped up on the wall as she doom-scrolls on her phone. She’s been staying in my room with me for the past week as she delays going back home to Houston, her bank account no longer allowing hotel stays. I don’t ask her when she’s leaving because honestly, I don’t want her to. I will admit though, that the apartment is feeling a little crowded with the five of us.

The faint sounds of pans clanking and muffled voices echo down the hall and underneath my bedroom door. Steve and Ben discuss something I can’t make out, stopping suddenly when the front door opens and shuts. Eddie’s voice joins them in conversation.

Looking down at my studies, I groan. Fuck all of this.

“I’m gonna drop out,” I threaten.

Daizy eyes me from the side, setting her phone on her chest. “Give it a rest, would you?” She twists and sits on her feet, leaning forward to grab my hands. We sit there, faces inches apart, as she grins and evil grin. “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room,”

“There is no elephant in this room,” I retort sarcastically.

She rolls her eyes. “The metaphorical elephant!”

“That’s a big word for you, Days," I pester with a nickname I know she hates.

“You live with three men. Three hot men, might I add,” she leaps off the bed.

“Ugh, gross. One of them’s my brother,” I remind her.

She nods, spinning in place like a ballerina. “You’re the luckiest girl in the world, y’know that?” She gushes. “I mean, I’d give anything to get to look at them all day like you—“

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to live with three men?” I deadpan. “It’s anything but a joy,”

I slide off my bed and go to my dresser, pulling out some pajamas to change into. Daizy rants about boys—my boys, specifically, the ones only a few feet away in the kitchen—while I peel my sweater off.

Just as I’ve found myself in only my bra and underwear, my bedroom door flies open. I scream and attempt to cover myself as Eddie stands in the doorway.

“You went on a date with Steve?!” he accuses, expression a mixture of excitement and confusion.

“Oh my God, Eddie! Have you ever heard of knocking?” Daizy screeches, shoving him out of the room. “She’s literally naked, you perv!”

Down the hallway, I hear my brother shout ‘WHAT?’ At an unreasonable volume.

Eddie’s face goes pale and he freezes like a deer in headlights.

“Get out!” I yell.

He shakes out of his trance. “Oh, shit. Sorry!” The door slams closed behind him. I get dressed at an inhuman speed, a flustered mess of limbs and hair in my eyes.

I turn to Daizy and she’s staring at me expectantly, eyebrows perched. “You went on a date with Steve?”

Anger boils in my stomach. “It wasn’t a date,” I grumble, storming out of the bedroom and down the hallway. I stop in the kitchen, brushing past Steve to grab the towel hanging from the oven door. “Munson!” I call.

Eddie and Ben are arguing in the living room. I rapidly approach, tunnel vision on Eddie and I smack him with the towel. He barely flinches as he laughs breathlessly.

“Calm down now, Sweetheart, I’ve seen you naked before,” he coos.

My blood runs cold and my jaw hangs slack. I hit him again.

“I’m sorry you what now?” Steve joins, rounding the kitchen counter.

“It was an accident!” Eddie holds his hands up in surrender. “I walked in on her showering, she tried to murder me with shampoo bottles—“

I roll my eyes to mask my embarrassment. “You didn’t even see anything, I was covered by shower curtain,”

“Hate to break it to you Sweetheart, but—that curtain’s see through,”

I press my hands to the side of my head and squeeze. If I’m lucky, I’ll pop my brain out and I’ll never have to think about this ever again. "Oh. My. God."

Ben’s face is red with fury. “Alright, that’s it! Everyone shut up! Emergency roommate meeting is happening. Right. Now. Sit down, all of you,” he demands with conviction, slamming his hand on the couch. I silently sit on the sofa and Eddie sits on the opposite side. Daizy meekly attempts to escape, slowly stepping backward towards my bedroom. “You too!" Ben adds, pointing to her.

Her shoulders fall and she groans, walking to me. She sits on the floor in front of me, leaning her back against my legs. Steve sits between Eddie and me, his body heat radiating off of him. Daizy glances at him, mischief glimmering in her peripherals. I poke her ribs to make her stop, and she relents, if just barely.

The atmosphere suddenly turns serious and heavy. Ben paces back and forth, hands clasped together in contemplation. He presses his fingertips to his lips, thinking. Just as I believe I’m getting close to reading his thoughts, he starts, “Do you remember when I very directly told you two that there was a line, and not to cross it?” He speaks quietly, staring at the boys.

The pair nod. Steve looks down at his feet, and Eddie looks anywhere but Ben's face.

“Not only have you crossed the line, but it’s so far behind you that you can’t even see it. Shit—you might as well have pissed on it!”

Eddie can’t hold it in any longer, and he laughs, just for a second. If looks could kill, he’d be dead where he sits. Ben glares daggers at him. “I know you’re not laughing, you sexual deviant. You can continue to flirt with everyone you see— but people in this house are off limits, especially her!”

I’ll admit to jumping a bit when my brother points a finger at me, like lightning will shoot out of it and electrocute me. Like Thor.

I laugh at my own thought and immediately I realize what I’ve done. Oh fuck.

“You’re not innocent, either,” he rambles. “Jesus, you live with three guys. Lock the goddamn door!”

My bedroom door doesn’t have a lock on it, I want to remind him, but I fear he’ll ring my neck if I do.

“The bathroom lock’s broken and her bedroom doesn’t even have one,” Steve defends me. I dare a peek at him and he’s looking at me. I smile and mouth thank you to him.

“And how would you know her bedroom doesn’t have a lock?” Ben accuses.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Because I’ve lived here for two years, Benjamin.”

“Fine,” Ben resolves, looking at me. “She’ll take my room. Private bathroom and a lock on the door,”

He says it like it’s some sort of punishment, so I have to pretend to be upset. The boys nod along, agreeing that this is the best middle ground.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” Ben wiggles his finger between Steve and me. “But quit it. If I find out you went on a date again I’m gonna wring your tentacles out like a rag,” he tells Steve, who winces at the thought and runs his hand through his fluffy hair.

Daizy giggles quietly. I kick her to try to shut her up, but it’s too late as he sets his sights on her.

“And you,” Ben calls on her. “Quit encouraging bad behavior. Do you think I couldn’t hear your little conversation earlier? These walls are paper thin,”

I bury my face in my hands. Daizy is gobsmacked and—for the first time ever—stunned to silence.

“This house clearly needs a set of clearly outlined rules,” he announces, pacing into the kitchen and snatching a notebook and pen off the counter. He scribbles furiously for an extremely long minute while the rest of us hold our breaths. Steve leans into me, nudging me with his shoulder. A warm, fuzzy feeling surrounds me as I scan his pouting face. 'I’m sorry,' he whispers, barely audible.

I shake my head. He has nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t a date—Eddie’s a drama queen and my brother’s an over-reactor.

“I behold to you,” Ben breathes, ripping the page out of the notebook and displaying it like a child with an art project. “The Roommate Agreement.”

The hand writing is doctorate at best, kindergarten-esque at worst. “Please read this agreement and sign it. Failure to do so will result in banishment; sleeping on the fire escape.” Ben points out the sliding glass window above the communal desk in the far corner of the living room, the only entry point to the fire escape.

It starts with Eddie. He reads it quietly before handing it to Steve, who makes a face and then hands it to me. The chicken scratch handwriting reads as follows:

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

“Public humiliation or beating, really?” I snipe.

“Why are you so concerned? Plan on breaking the rules?” Ben teases.

I roll my eyes.

“Hey, can we add ‘pizza on Friday nights’ to the list of rules?” Eddie wonders aloud, ignorant to the tension in the room.

Ben sighs tiredly. “Yeah, sure, Ed. We can add pizza on Fridays,” he resolves.

“If we’re adding rules, we should add ‘knock before entering’ to the list. Since some people didn’t learn that in grade school,” I glare at Eddie.

He shrugs. “I’ve already seen you naked twice. Does it really matter anymore?”

I feel like I’m going to vomit from the thought of my naked body being burned into Eddie’s subconscious forever. Ben scowls and Steve elbows him.

“Do you ever think before you speak?” Daizy complains.

“Huh. Not really, no,” Eddie admits.

“I can tell.” she says.

“Alright, alright. Amendment to the Agreement: Pizza on Fridays, always knock before entering, and never speak about my sister naked ever again,” Ben says, looking pale.

Steve nods, suddenly feeling brave. “We should be allowed to make changes,”

“Once a year?” Daizy suggests, handing the paper back to Ben after she’s read it. "If you change it too often, it's not really an agreement, is it?"

“You don’t even live here,” Ben simmers, snatching the page.

“You’re the one who got me involved!” Daizy contests.

They lock eyes, an unhealthy mix of angst and electricity ricocheting off each other.

“Good fuck. Just make out already,” for once I'm thankful for Eddie's big mouth, as he says what we're all thinking. Daizy reaches for one of the throw pillows discarded on the floor and heaves it with all of her might. The plush hits his chest and he winces just to appease her, snickering.

Ben leans on the coffee table, stained with rings from beer cans and coffee mugs, furiously writing on the page. We pass it around the room again, reading the Amendment and signing our names at the bottom.

The Roommate Agreement, Apartment 406D.

1. No pets, lest we suffer the wrath of Larry the Evil Landlord.

2. No roommate-on-roommate romance, punishable by: beating, public humiliation, or exile from the apartment.

3. Any and all decisions that directly affect all parties must be taken to a vote before finalized.

4. We will have pizza on Friday night, every week, until the end of time.

5. The Agreement may receive 1 (one) Amendment within a calendar year.

6. We are to never speak of The Incidents again. Signing this agreement is a promise to take The Incidents to the grave."

'The Incidents' is an odd way to word 'Eddie's the only one that's seen my naked', but I suppose it's easier to digest this way.

I titter at the way it’s written, all professional and lawyer-like. That’s my brother, for you—he’s always been so serious. Steve hands me the pen and I grab it. He purposely holds onto it tight so I struggle to take it from him. I shake my head at him and he chuckles, relenting his grip to release the pen with a pop.

In wiggly cursive, just under Steve Harrington’s name, I squiggle my name and draw a little heart next to it, cementing my place in Apartment 406D and my commitment to the Roommate Agreement.

⊱ ────── {⋆❉⋆} ────── ⊰

**Holy crap, this took way too long to write, sorry! I gave up editing and half-assed it tbh so lmk if I missed something!**

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@G3n3zshack @Rawrxbexjealous @Melalsworld @Anjxjahz @adaydreamaway30 @tiptoebabe @micheledawn1975 @crispystarfishhottub @spookysace24

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #female reader #friends to lovers #slow burn #x reader #eddie munson #The Roommate Agreement

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thelastwalkingsoul · 2 years ago

Text

Curse you, big bang, for stealing all my brain worms! But I do have something new today. I don't think I've ever shared my little headcanon for steddie rings, so here you go :)

(Now on AO3!) ----------- "Eddie, I'm home!"

Steve closes the door with a weary sigh. It'd been a long day at work, but his special errand had almost made up for it. Steve was really just aching for a cuddle with his wonderful boyfriend.

"Eddie?" As he walks into the living room, he sees the man in question slumped on the couch with a book. He looks comfortable (and adorable) in his hoodie and sweatpants, but Steve can tell something is up. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Eddie pouts, eyes meeting Steve's. "I still can't find it."

"Oh, babe," Steve sighs, feeling a spike of guilt. "It'll turn up soon."

"You said that yesterday," Eddie whines.

Steve can't help but chuckle. "Exactly. It's only been a day."

Eddie crosses his arms. Combined with his jutting lip, he's a spitting image of a pouting child. "That's a day too long," he grumbles.

"It'll show up," Steve promises, bending to kiss Eddie's forehead. "Now, what do you want for dinner?"

It only takes a couple more days for the ring to show up. Eddie almost gives Steve a heart attack from the sheer volume of the yell he lets out. He's bouncing on the spot when Steve enters the room, grinning wide and sliding the ring onto his middle finger. Steve's barely prepared as Eddie launches across the room and slams into him, forcing all the air from Steve's lungs. He steadies them both and wraps his arms around his boyfriend. "I'm happy you found it, love."

What Steve didn't anticipate (but absolutely should have) was Eddie spending the rest of the day and night insisting, "Yes, Steve, I did check the couch. I checked the couch at least a million times. How is it there now and not before?"

Steve simply agrees with a smile, secretly happy that Eddie's smart brain hasn't yet connected the dots.

When the day finally comes, everything is going to plan. Steve gets out of work early, runs his special errand, and is home well before Eddie. He wants tonight to be special, but not too much. Just enough effort for his prepared gift. As much as Steve is excited, he's also incredibly nervous that Eddie won't like it. But he pushes that aside to get ready.

Steve picks out a favourite dinner of theirs that Eddie especially likes. He gets to work chopping and seasoning, setting up their small dining table, and lighting the few candles they have. By the time Eddie's due home, their apartment is filled with the aroma of dinner and illuminated by soft candlelight.

Steve's whole body feels like it's vibrating in anticipation as he hears Eddie's keys in the door. He tries his best to relax in his chair, nerves humming.

"I'm home, sweetheart!" Eddie calls, closing the door. Steve can hear him moving closer. "God, that smells amazing, Stevie. Why did you-" He stops, face melting from surprise to a soft smile, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. "What's all this for?"

Steve can't help the excited grin that slips onto his face. "It's a surprise."

"Oh, is it now?" Eddie drops his bag and comes to sit across from Steve. He looks beautiful, with his big eyes and kissable lips pulled into a smile, hair pulled half up and escaped strands framing his face. Steve wants to kiss him.

So he does. Leans over the table and kisses Eddie softly. "It is. Now eat up."

They talk softly over dinner. Eddie tells Steve about his day, and then Steve tells Eddie about his. It feels domestic and nostalgic, and it's everything Steve never knew he wanted until Eddie. His nerves slowly ebb away as they eat, his love for the gorgeous man in front of him replacing any and all worries he'd had. Steve's not sure why he was so scared in the first place; Eddie will love it.

He waits until they're both finished, until there's a natural lull in the conversation and pushes their dishes aside. Steve places both hands on the table and doesn't start until Eddie puts his hands in Steve's. It gives him confidence, so he speaks.

"Eddie. I wish I could show you to the world. I wish we didn't have to hide. I wish I could hold your hand on the street without fear. And I know we can't, and that's fine. But I want you to be mine and I want to be yours." Steve pauses. He can see the adoration in Eddie's eyes and hopes he's showing his too. "I wanted something for us. Just us. So it can be a promise, or- or a wish. But I got these for us. And I hope you like them."

He hands Eddie the open box before he can psych himself out of it. It's a wooden box and inside sits two rings. One is dark silver with a band of gold running through the middle, and the other is the opposite, gold with a dark silver band. They're a matching set, simple enough to be passed off as just a ring but to anyone who looks closely, they're undeniably a set.

"Steve," Eddie breathes, hand hovering over the rings. He doesn't say anything more, and before he knows it, Steve's rambling. "I wanted to get them engraved with something, but I wasn't sure what, so I haven't gotten that done yet, but we still can, so just let me know and-"

"Steve. I can't even- They're amazing."

Eddie's smiling that gorgeous smile of his. The same one Steve fell in love with several years ago. He watches that smile as he picks up the box, pulling out the mostly dark silver ring and sliding it onto Eddie's ring finger. Eddie does the same to him, and they link their hands together, admiring the sight. Steve's sure they're both a little teary now. He'd spent far too long agonising over the rings, but seeing them sitting together in the candlelight, he knows he made the right decision.

It takes Eddie a few hours before he finally connects the dots.

"Wait. Is that why my ring went missing last week?!"

Steve laughs so hard that he cries.

#I just love the idea of them having matching rings #where Eddie's matches his aesthetic #and Steve's matches his #so it's not super clear #but when they're put together they're so obviously a set #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steveddie #rings #steddie rings #exchanging rings #steddie ring saga #souls steddie ring saga

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oneforthemunny · 9 months ago

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i hope i do this right!!!!

my roll is 2, A, ?

for you, my love, your roll is: dom!eddie, over the knee, and crop!

minors dni. spanking, dom/sub themes, thigh riding. more of a softer sexy vibe??? ok?? ok.

"How's that?" Eddie groaned, a hand smoothing down you spine, settling you into him.

You shivered when you straddled his thigh, bare pussy rubbing against the thick material of his jeans. Eddie swallowed back a groan at the feeling of your warmth on him.

"It's good." You sighed, angling yourself so you could rest your chin on his ribs.

"Comfortable?" Eddie's lips twitched, fighting back a smirk. He knew it wasn't, not really, but you both knew that if you wanted to cum, this was the only way he'd let you.

"Very," You muttered, eyes rounding so sweetly when they met his. "Thank you, Sir."

Eddie's cock twitched at the name, turning to grab the small crop, hoping you didn't see how his cheeks flushed.

The candles in the living room offered a romantic ambiance, the perfect scene for date night. No harsh scenes, no meanness or mocking, just you and Eddie, playing like how you used to, when you'd first started.

"I only have one rule." Eddie hummed, his free hand catching you chin in his hand, lifting you up barely, closer to him. "You look at me the whole time." He commanded.

Your body shivered, an icy thrill spilling down your spine. "I want to see your eyes on me the whole time. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir." You nodded, hips already grinding into his thigh, tiny sparks of pleasure shooting through your core with every rock of your hips.

Eddie hummed in approval, lifting the crop with his free hand. His eyes left yours for a moment, lining it up with your ass, before letting it fall with the flick of his wrist.

You squeaked in surprise, hips slowly starting to rock, clit rubbing against his jeans. Eddie lifted the crop letting it fall in slow, rhythmic successions, alternating from cheek to cheek.

Your hands dug into his shirt, steadying yourself as you began to practically hump his leg. Your eyes closed for a second, letting out a small whine, that Eddie quickly corrected with a rather hard, punishing spank of the crop.

"Ow!"

"What did I say?" Eddie growled lightly. You pouted, movements stuttering for a moment. "Don't make me be mean tonight, baby. Keep your eyes on me. That's all I ask."

So you did. You kept your gaze on him, letting him watch each tremble and whine and moan, his wrist flicking and commanding the crop's rain on your ass until you finished. Hips rocking furiously, moaning, Eddie's hand wrapped around your jaw keeping your head tilted towards him so he could watch you finish.

You slid between his legs, stealing a sweet kiss that he tried to deepen. The wet spot on his jeans from your release made you blush. Eddie grinned, eyes darkening when you reached for his zipper.

"What are you doing?" Eddie asked, arms stretching out over the back of the couch, still holding the crop.

You winced when you sat, heels of your feet touching the tender skin of your ass. "It's your turn." You grinned sweetly, reaching into his boxers, palming his length before you pulled him out.

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strangersteddierthings · 2 years ago

Text

Shovel Talk(s) Part 2

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Nobody in the history of the world has ever referred to Eddie as jubilant but that was certainly the best word for him currently. Eddie has survived the apocalypse (even if barely), been proven innocent for the murders (the Upside Down exploding into Hawkins helped), and he has a boyfriend. It makes Eddie feel like he's floating.

Steve drops him off, walks him up to the porch, and gives him the sweetest kiss goodbye. Eddie doesn't go inside right away because he wants to watch Steve as he leaves and maybe blow him an exaggerated kiss as he drives away.

"Glad that boy finally did something about how pathetic you were being," Wayne says in lieu of a greeting when Eddie finally slips in the front door and into the living room, plopping himself on the other end of the sofa, dragging one of the throw pillows that came with the couch into his lap to clutch onto. Ground him, because he's still floating.

"I was not being pathetic!" Eddie is scandalized.

Wayne lets out a wistful sigh and says, in a poor imitation of Eddie's voice, "when will Steve end my suffering and notice me."

Eddie lunges across the couch with the pillow in hand, whacking Wayne with every word he speaks, while also trying to dodge Wayne trying to grab the pillow from him, "I do not sound like that!"

Wayne tricks him into thinking the pillow is his only goal and before he realizes what's happening, Wayne has him in a headlock, dragging both of them off the couch as he stands, giving Eddie the gentlest noogie of his life. "I think I know how you sound, hearin' you bellyache for the last 13 years. I've had to hear your relentless sighing and bemoaning about Steve for at least six of 'em."

Eddie beats him with the pillow more until Wayne releases the headlock and then they wrestle until his uncle fakes hurt, so Eddie backs down quickly, and Wayne steals the pillow and beats him back onto the couch until Eddie yields.

"That was dirty fighting, old man," Eddie says when he finally stops laughing enough to catch his breath.

"What was it you used to tell me, when I said you were fightin' dirty?" Wayne asks, "Scrappy."

"Oh, is that what you think you are?" Eddie swings at Wayne's knee half-heartedly. Wayne flings himself across the room and into the recliner there like Eddie shoved him. "Oh, you big baby."

"You're awfully callus about bullying your old man," Wayne chuckles and settles into the recliner, popping the leg rest out. "Now, tell me about your boy. He was a gentleman to you?"

Eddie pouts, "Unfortunately, yes. One chaste kiss and then he was off."

"Smart boy."

Eddie narrows his eyes. "What's the supposed to mean?"

"Means I scare him."

"What."

"That a question or a statement, son?" Wayne looks awfully smug over in his chair.

"What do you mean you scare him?"

"Just gave him the good ole father shovel talk. Y'know? Hurt my boy and I'll make you disappear," Wayne says.

"You terrible old man!" Eddie throws his pillow at him but Wayne bats it out of the air. "I'm going to die a virgin and it'll be your fault!"

Wayne just shrugs. "Fine by me."

"You are the worst."

Eddie can't make his leg stop jiggling. He feels sorry for Nancy, who is sharing the bench seat with him because he's sure that it's shaking the whole bench. He's filled with energy and doesn't know what to do with it.

Robin sits across from them, finishing up the last of her milkshake as they wait for the to go order they're going to drop off for Steve, who is stuck at Family Video for another five hours. He was supposed to be here, too, but Keith called him asking him to cover and he'd said yes. Eddie wishes he hadn't. This was Lunch Date Day.

"Are you still upset Steve took an extra shift?" Nancy asks. "Even though you know he's just going to spend the extra money on you?"

Eddie's pouting, voice whiny as he says, "I'd rather he be heeeerrrrrrrre."

"It's disgusting how in love you are," Robin says, shoving the now completely empty milkshake glass away.

Eddie's leg stops shaking because he full on freezes. "Uh."

"Are you afraid of saying the L-word? You are not subtle in showing it," Nancy says, ever the traitor, "but luckily Steve's just as smitten."

"You don't know that," Eddie says, arguing for the sake of arguing. He doesn't believe he likes Steve more than Steve likes him. He's pretty sure they're on an even playing field.

"Yeah, I do. I threatened to shoot him if he hurt you and he didn't even flinch. He'd have taken the bullet for you."

"You did what!?" Robin yelps. She's looking at Nancy like she's grown a second head.

"I didn't even bring a gun with me! Besides, Steve knows I didn't mean it," Nancy says with a wave of her hand, "it was just an obligation thing. You have to threaten your best friend's significant other. The whole conversation was like, 30 seconds tops."

"I'm your best friend!?" Eddie gasps, faking surprise. They have become good friends. She'd taken it upon herself to make sure he did get to graduate with Robin and herself, and they did form a sort of friendship from that. Also, from being the collective third wheel to Steve&Robin, which is enough to make people come together. Neither of them truly thinks of the other as their best friend, but it's fun to joke about their own Capitol with a P Platonic Friendship around Steve and Robin, as they become rather bitchy and defensive about their own friendship.

It's hilarious every time.

"Well, it's you or Argyle, and I don't think Jonathan wants to share his best friend, so...."

"Cold, Wheeler. Cold."

Nancy rolls her eyes and looks over to Robin. "Are you telling me you haven't given Eddie the shovel talk?"

Robin frowns as she thinks before her eyes widen in shock and she gasps, "I think I accidentally gave Steve a shovel talk instead."

Eddie bursts out laughing, "Robin, how the fuck did you end up accidentally giving a shovel talk to your own best friend?"

"I just told him to, like, be careful with you."

"Careful with me?" Eddie asks, a little incredulously. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Robin is going on the defensive, now. Eddie can see that in the way she squares her shoulders before saying, "it was said after your first date! Steve's had a lot of those, and you hadn't. I just- I dunno, wanted him to see the importance of that."

"So, what, you told him you'd shoot him if he hurt me, like Wheeler here?"

"No! I never said I'd hurt him for hurting you. I just said that he should be careful with you because, as your first boyfriend, if, and I did mean if, you don't work out, it's like... he's setting the precedent for how boyfriends should treat you. What you'll put with with, y'know?"

"That's sweet-" Nancy starts but Eddie's speaking over her just a quickly.

"Robin, that's stupid. I'm a fucking adult. If I'm not being treated how I want to be treated, I'll tell Steve," Eddie huffs. "You can trust that I say what I mean."

"Can I?" Robin shoots back. "Just like when you promised to get the fuck outta dodge and instead went on a suicide mission that ended very, very badly for you?"

"That was different, Buckley," Eddie hisses at her, sitting up straight to lean more across the table, trying to get in her face, "there was a lot of shit happening, and no way out that I saw. It's called trauma!"

It seems that a defensive Robin goes straight for the jugular because she hisses back, "No, actually, I think it's called survivors guilt and suicidal ideation. You know what, I should be giving you a shovel talk! 'Cause I don't fully trust you to not hurt Steve, either by lying or running once things get rough. You don't-"

"OKAY!" Nancy shouts, startling both of them into silence with one word. "We are in an, admittedly very empty, diner but still a very public diner, so let's not. Robin, you're not Steve's mom, it's not on you to look out for who is going to hurt him or-"

"You do not get to speak to me about hurting him," Robin points an accusing finger at Nancy. For all the anger she seemed to have for Eddie just now, he can see that it's almost doubled for Nancy. "I wasn't Steve's friend when you hurt him, but don't think I don't know every detail."

He knows this story, too. Had gotten it out of Steve one night, weeks ago now, when they'd been passing a joint back and forth on Eddie's bed. Before Eddie can pipe up, not that he knows what he'd say anyway, the waitress returns with the to go box and the check.

"It's my turn to pay," Nancy says, snatching the check before it touches the table, following hot on the waitress's heels to the register.

"Ugh," Robin flings herself against the back of the bench, both hands coming up to hide her face. From beneath her hiding place, she says, "I'm sorry, Eddie. What I said was unfair, and uncalled for."

"We're cool, Robin," Eddie says, "I forget how much of a buffer for our anxieties Steve is until we all hang out without him. He's able to defuse an argument before it happens."

"Oh, don't word it like that," Robin drops her hands and slides out of the booth, scooping up the to go box in the process," it makes Steve sound like the emotionally mature one."

They all climb into Nancy's car and apologies are said but Eddie feels like the next time Steve can't make it, they'll all bail on the weekly lunch. They're just a bunch of traumatized young adults and Steve is the heart of them, the person that bonds them outside the shit they went through. And maybe they should figure out a better way to deal with this than just pretending it didn't happen but- well, the world just kept moving on and they had to either move with it or get left behind.

It's two weeks after Eddie and Steve accidentally told the Hellfire crew they were a couple, which is why Eddie is not expecting it when Erica and Lucas corner him. He was expecting to be cornered by someone last week.

They'd been taking longer to pack up than usual, and that should have tipped Eddie off that something was up.

"Munson," Erica says in her no-nonsense voice, hands on her hips, face unamused. For sharing no biology with Steve, Eddie finds the resemblance uncanny. "I need you to understand that you might be my Dungeon Master, but Scoops Troop will always trump that, so if you fuck this up with Steve, you will have to answer to me."

Eddie gives a soft grin in response, amused, "no worries, Lady Applejack. I have no plans to fuck this up."

Erica's eyes flick to Lucas, then back to Eddie. "I mean it, Munson. I have it on good authority that sometimes you hurt people and then you don't try to right it. You just move on-"

"Erica, stop it," Lucas says, voice a little panicked.

But Erica continues, because nothing ever seems to phase her, "and Steve and Lucas are alike in that way. So just know that if you hurt Steve like you hurt Lucas-"

"Erica!"

"I will end you. I will ruin your life, Munson-"

"Erica, STOP!" Lucas finally steps forward, yanking on Erica's arm to get her to stop talking. It makes her stumble a bit before rounding on Lucas. "Stop it."

"No!" Erica glares at her brother as she removes his hand from her arm. "Go outside if you don't want to hear it."

They stare each other down and Eddie's not sure what he should be doing. Should he step in? He grew up an only child, is this normal sibling behavior? But he doesn't have to step in because Lucas huffs and storms out of the house, front door clicking softly behind him even though Eddie expected him to slam the door.

"Now, you," Erica whirls around to Eddie, "do you understand what I'm saying?"

Eddie does not. He's fairly certain he's getting a shovel talk from a twelve-year-old and while amusing, he senses there's more to it than just his relationship with Steve. "You're threatening me on Steve's behalf?"

Erica scoffs and rolls her eyes like she thinks Eddie's an idiot. He's starting to think he might be. "Yes, I am but also more. Your relationship has been the hot topic these days, and my brother brought up a good point but he's too nice to say it, so I will. When school starts, if Steve wants to take you to a basketball game, even though they fall on Hellfire night, you postpone the damn game and you go. No matter how much you hate basketball or jocks or- or... other things." She loses steam at the end, eyes flicking to the door.

"What?" Eddie is even more confused, "I don't hate basketball. And if Steve asks, I'm not going to say no, okay? I care about Steve. A lot."

Erica frowns, which contradicts the words that leave her mouth. "Good. That's good. I'd hate to ruin you, Munson."

"Is there... more to it?"

It takes Erica maybe three seconds to decide what she's going to say. Just long enough for her to look at the door, then back to Eddie. "You owe my brother an apology."

"Uh, sure, I'll apologize but for what?"

"Remember the basketball championship and the last session of the Vecna campaign that you wouldn't postpone so Lucas could play? You never apologized," Erica crosses her arms, another move reminiscent of Steve, before continuing, "You didn't apologize, and Lucas thought that it was because he's a jock, and you hate jocks. But now you're dating Steve and he's a jock. So, if you don't hate jocks, Lucas thinks you just hate him."

"What, no, I don't hate Lucas!"

"Then tell him that!" Erica glares at him, "and let this be a little lesson for you. Going forward if you hurt either of my brothers, intentionally or not, you can kiss the tires on your van goodbye."

Eddie tucks his metaphorical tail between his legs and goes outside to apologize, because Lucas deserves to hear it.

Then, once the Sinclairs are gone and Eddie's back in his room, he runs through every conversation he can remember having with Steve. Has he dismissed things Steve liked too easily, too often? Has he said anything offhandedly that could be taken the wrong way without explanation?

Eddie's was an only child and didn't have to grow up worrying about anyone but himself. He made himself an outcast and shunned the 'norm' by choice. Doing so didn't exactly let him learn the social graces of patience and understanding.

It's eye opening, to learn that a decision he made months ago without a second thought has been hurting Lucas this whole time.

Has he ever done that to Steve, and not known it?

Steve's been distant these past few days and no matter how many times Eddie asks, Steve's answer doesn't change. I'm fine he says. I'm fine. Just fine. It's fine.

Except nothing feels fine. And Eddie doesn't understand the sharp change. They've got a date planned for tonight. Neither of them has specifically said it out loud, because it's sappy and stupid, but it marks three full months as official boyfriends. So, they've got a date planned, but Eddie's worried how it might end.

Eddie's been floating these last three months, but he suddenly feels grounded. He can't fix whatever happened if Steve won't tell him what it was! And in the absence of actual answers, Eddie's mind has invented his own.

Steve's realized that Eddie's not good enough for him. Steve's realized that he's actually straight, but thanks for the experimentation. Steve's found someone else and is working on how to break up with Eddie without blowing up their friend group in the process.

And Eddie hates himself for thinking these things. For projecting his own insecurities onto a version of Steve that doesn't exist. Eddie's gotten to know Steve.

Or he thought he had.

But now he's pulling away. And the only person he knows he can talk to about dating Steve is Nancy and he can't do that! He can't just go to Nancy's house and ask 'so when you were dating Steve and it was all going down the drain, was he distant or is that just a me thing?'

Fuck. Fuck!

He runs his hands through his hair and regrets it as his curls tangle around the rings on his hands. He should brush his hair, be getting ready, but he's procrastinating that because he can't decide if he's going all out, making himself look his best to see if it'll bring some life back into Steve's eyes when he looks at him, or if he shouldn't try at all and see if Steve even notices he's wearing the same thing he wore yesterday.

And it's bullshit that he's even thinking about testing Steve. Not two months ago he and Robin had argued in that diner about whether he's talk to Steve about these kind of things or not and now he was kind of proving her right. Except not, because he did try to talk! Steve just didn't answer when he questioned, and you can't really build a conversation from nothing.

Fuck! He should have known this would happen. That he would fall in love and Steve wouldn't love him back because that's always been his lot in life.

Oh.

Oh no.

He's been avoiding thinking it because once it's been thought, once it's solidified in his mind, it's true. And now he's thought it!

He's in love with Steve Harrington.

And isn't it just fuckin' peachy that this realization doesn't accompany happy feelings. He's in love and can't even be happy about it because he's so fucking sure his relationship is ending tonight.

#steddie #my fic #hmmm less happy about this part but its been a goddamn STRUGGLE #i didn't want people to give eddie a shovel talk but Erica does what she wants sooo....#also had to kinda force the scene with robin eddie and nancy in the diner because i wanted nancy to explain her side #considering how many of you were so mad at her and just over here like #oh no #cause the first part was just in steves pov and he cant read minds #anyway #have this and the third part will be out soon

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superblysubpar · 1 year ago

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hi !! could i get prompt 70 ("you're being shy now? really?") with eddie !

Anyone else's home plagued with the game star field currently? Just mine? Anyways, I hope you enjoy the fic that came from my own frustrations of being ignored by a video game. I actually truly don't know what came over me with this. Thank you for requesting 💛

You’re not sure what possessed you to do something about it tonight, and really, you were being extremely unfair. He’d given you ample warning about this commitment, and it was rare he devoted so much time to this sort of thing. Never this intense, never this distracted by something other than you.

His dark gray sweats cover muscular thighs, spread wide over the couch cushions he’s sunk into. Ankles exposed where his tube socks bunched, you fight a smile when you see his heels bouncing up and down in an anxious movement. His dark curls cascade over his shoulders, shiny and looking too soft from the shower he took when he got home - suspiciously smelling like coconut and the ocean - smelling like your hair. The white tee he wears tonight is yours too, a thrift find you’d held up to him proudly a few weeks ago. The red and yellow logo of Jurassic Park faded and pulled tight over his chest.

His fingers curl, moving swiftly, wrists and forearms flexing. The muscles in his shoulders and back move under the white fabric in a taunting way. He hums along to your Fleetwood Mac playing over the speakers, despite claiming to not enjoy their music. Plump pink lips purse, the lyrics of Gypsy trailing off as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. His bright, brown eyes blink, widening at the screen.

The controller shifts in his hands, fingers precise and big, making it look like a child’s toy in his grip. Your foot almost stomps, he hasn’t even glanced at you since you’ve entered the room.

This means war.

Your hands fall to the top of his shoulders, thumbs rubbing into his neck gently and he hums appreciatively, rolling his head to the side.

Kissing the apple of his cheek that he tilts up for you, you lean over the back of the couch. Your lips travel down, skimming over his jaw in another tender kiss. The soft scrape of stubble beneath your mouth has you sighing, eucalyptus and the woods and spice linger on his skin, making your thighs press together.

Your hands slip down hard pecs, kisses traveling lower over his neck.

“Hey baby,” Eddie hums, eyes unwavering from the screen still, “What’s up?”

Lips pausing their assault, you let your nose drag across his skin, inhaling as your palms press flat against his stomach. You pout into his collar, “Why does anything have to be up? Can’t a girl just say hi to her guy?”

Eddie’s breath sucks in with a small chuckle as your fingers scrape at the side of his ribs. He kisses at your temple briefly. “Hi.”

Your fingers slip lower, brushing over the soft skin exposed between the rolled band of his sweats and the white shirt. Pads of your fingers moving slowly back and forth, you smile into his neck when he shivers.

“How’s starfleet?” You nip at his ear, fingers toying with the band of his sweats.

“Starfield baby. Starfleet is Star Trek.”

You roll your eyes. Despite the thing stealing him away from you, you do love how excited he gets explaining something to you.

“Sorry. How’s starfield, did you win yet?” Your apology pressed into his cheek with another kiss as your fingers scrape at the dark trail of hair disappearing into his sweats.

“Well, you don’t really win, sweetheart. Wanna watch for a bit? I just got to this part and…” his excitement trails off as your palm rubs against the half-hard bulge beneath the gray fabric, growing quickly under your slow and teasing movements.

“And?” Your single word question drips with faux innocence.

“Shit, uh, and, I…” His fingers slip on the controller.

Point one - you.

Your own fingers go back to teasing at the band of sweats, and as they finally dip lower, you have to suppress the moan that’s desperate to sneak past your lips when they feel no other fabric between your skin and his.

Eddie Munson you no underwear wearing slut.

Mouth pressing kisses up and down his neck and behind his ear, fingers wrapping around his hard length. “Come on, handsome. Don’t you wanna tell me all about this game that’s stolen me from you?”

“Aw, you jeal - baby,” the term of endearment a broken moan as his head finally turns to see you.

Point two - you.

The victory is short lived though when the familiar pew-pew-pews echo from the TV and he curses under his breath. At least his eyes on the screen seem strained now, ignoring you a somewhat tough choice to make.

You move from your spot behind the couch, his adams apple bobbing as you take a step closer.

Eddie shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at the screen, determined to stay focused. “You’re mean.” His tongue licks over his lip as he swallows harshly again.

“Me?” You question with a dramatic pout, crawling over the far cushion towards him slowly.

His old Hellfire shirt adorns the top half of your body, red lace cutting high on your ass, disappearing under the hem of his ratty high school shirt.

Eddie laughs, a desperate sound as he shakes his head again. “I’m not doing this, this isn’t fair.”

“Oh? You’re not doing this, huh?” Your eyebrows raise, hand trailing up the inside of his thigh and making him squirm, soliciting a groan. One that rumbles deep in his chest but he cuts it off before the satisfied smirk fully forms on your lips.

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’, but his eyes quickly dart to the side, taking in the small glimpse of your backside he can find before returning to the screen.

Point three - Starfleet or whatever the shit it’s called.

Dammit. This calls for drastic measures.

Your bare leg hitches over his thigh, careful to keep your body and head tilted so he can still see his stupid video game.

Palms press to his chest as your hips roll against his thigh, you smooth a kiss to his shoulder. “You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?”

Pulling away, you put on a show, blinking your eyes innocently, rolling your hips and exaggerating your gasp of pleasure from the friction (because really it does feel good, but when it comes to Eddie, the more into the theatrics you are, the better).

He clicks his tongue, pushing it into his cheek as he keeps his eyes on the screen, “Go ahead princess.”

You scoot higher up his thigh, pressing yourself down harder with the next roll as your eyes flutter. Your lips nip at his jaw as you breathe heavily, “Princesses get whatever they want right? Just ask their knight in shining armor to jump and he says how high?”

“I-” he swallows, eyes blinking rapidly. You smirk at the way you can see his dick twitch under his sweats again. Of course the princess shit gets him.

Your lips press hot kisses over his neck, moving up until you’re at his ear, “Need you to fuck me, Teddy.”

He groans, the nickname on your lips too sweet and too pleading for him to ignore anymore. The controller falls from his fingers as he grabs at your thighs greedily. He pulls you fully over his lap, fingernails digging into the dough he loves and scratching up, higher and higher till he’s at your waist. He snaps the red lace on your hip before his fingers trace the curve of it back down. He presses three fingers over the wet patch of fabric and you swallow his moan with your lips.

Eddie barely kisses you, pulling away and shoving two fingers to your lips with a gasped, “Open.”

Not needing to be told twice, your lips part, taking his fingers inside, tongue swirling around them as your cheeks hollow. He watches with hooded eyes, pulling the digits from you with a pop and shoving the elastic of his sweats down. Wet fingers over his cock, your saliva mixing with precum that leaks from him already. Eddie yanks you down with one hand, his other pulling the stretch of damp lace to the side, his tip nudging at your entrance making you whimper.

Your head falls into the crook of his neck as he pushes in, the filthy slide of him against your tight walls and the lewd sound of your slick as he draws out and thrusts back in sharply making your theatrics and confident facade crumble immediately.

“Fuck, so spoiled baby,” he hisses, palms making a satisfying smack against your ass before squeezing at each cheek, moving you up and down on him forcefully.

It feels like he’s puncturing a lung with each thrust getting deeper, worried he’s actually mad at you until he whispers into your jaw, “Princesses get spoiled though, yeah?”

Only able to whimper and nod as the smack of your thighs meeting his gets louder and louder.

“You’re being shy now? Really? After that show you just put on?”

Heat radiates throughout your entire body, fingers curling into the cotton of his sides as your breath quickens, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach snaps as he pulls out of you suddenly.

He smirks at your whine and taps your thigh, nodding towards the screen. “Turn around, sweetheart.”

You blink, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and stand, legs shaking despite not reaching an orgasm. You turn and he pulls you back to him causing a surprised squeak to escape you.

He slides back into you with a grunt, his forehead pressing to your spine until you’re fully seated. He kisses your cheek, voice full of the kind of rasp he usually gets after singing that he knows gets you all hot and bothered as he says, “Princesses also need to learn their lessons. So you’re going to sit here and not move and wait your turn for attention from Teddy.”

Your cheeks heat at his condescending tone and the use of his nickname, like you should be embarrassed - even though the name turns him on. Your fingers curl into fists on your thighs as his dick twitches inside you.

Eddie grabs the controller, hooking his chin over your shoulder, and hits unpause.

All the points - Eddie.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #stranger things fanfic #superbly subpar eddie spice

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months ago

Note

🧁Congrats on 3k followers!🧁 You were the first steddie person I followed and I'm still so glad I did! 💕

For the sentence prompt, I'm picking a line from my favorite love song - Fair by The Amazing Devil:

"Darling, I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades at night when light is fading"

Me? The first?! That’s a huge honor and I am definitely not crying about it (lying). I hope you enjoy!

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Steve’s migraines were bad when it rained, even worse when he’d been outside all day. Nothing helped except sleeping it off.

And pressure in just the right spot on his forehead.

It was hard to get it right on his own, and Robin was always just a bit too harsh with her fingertips against his skin, pressing too much at once in too many places. Eddie managed to touch just right sometimes, but it was hit or miss.

It was so fucking frustrating.

Eddie was frustrated too, especially when the pain got to a point that Steve didn’t even want him near him. Every smell, sound, and accidental touch made him nauseous.

They had rain most of the day, and Steve’s work day had started with Keith berating him for not rewinding one tape before putting it back on the shelf. It ended with a customer trying to steal candy from the shelves and yelling at Steve when he got caught.

By the time he got home, he could barely feel his fingers from how hard he’d been clenching the steering wheel as he drove, doing his best to focus on the road ahead. He just had to get home, then he could wash his face and get in bed.

Eddie was playing music while he made dinner, and it was nearly impossible for Steve to do anything but rush past the kitchen to their bedroom. Eddie would figure it out quickly.

Within minutes, Steve was standing at the bathroom sink in only his underwear, hot water running over the washcloth he planned on holding on his face until he could breathe again.

“Stevie, you okay?” Eddie whispered when he walked into the room.

“Migraine.”

“I’ll get you some water and the ice pack.”

Steve lost track of time as he finished up in the bathroom and settled in bed. His head wasn’t pounding so much as exploding into new galaxies every time he blinked. Somehow, closing his eyes made it worse.

He managed to make himself as comfortable as possible, barely even moving when Eddie placed the ice pack on his forehead and eyes.

“10?” Eddie asked as softly as possible, keeping his distance, but staying close enough for Steve to touch him.

“Mhm.”

“You need me to sleep on the couch?”

“No.”

The bed shifted slightly as Eddie moved further under the covers on his side. “Okay. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

The spot on his forehead was pulsing and the ice pack wasn’t doing shit.

“Turn on your side,” Steve asked, voice shaking as he tried to bite back a whimper of pain.

He felt Eddie move, and when he reached a hand out to see if he’d understood what he asked, he couldn’t help his lip turning up at the corner in an attempt at a smile.

Sometimes he was convinced the bat bites had connected them in more ways than the soft camaraderie of recovery. Sometimes it felt like they were reading the other so well, they shared a brain.

Steve slowly moved forward, wincing when his body made contact with Eddie’s. Steve pulled the ice pack away.

“Sweetheart?”

“Just a sec,” he replied.

Eddie was as still as a statue, something so rare, he probably reserved it for these moments.

Another reason Steve was certain Eddie was better than he deserved.

Steve leaned his head forward, letting out a small groan when his forehead made contact with Eddie’s back, right between his shoulder blades.

He pressed his head forward, not able to relax until he found-

There.

He nearly moaned with relief.

“Found it, angel?” Eddie whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment of painless ecstasy Steve was experiencing.

“Mm.”

“Stay as long as you need,” Eddie added before focusing on slow breathing so he wouldn’t disrupt Steve’s resting place.

Steve sighed and let himself enjoy this moment for as long as possible. He closed his eyes.

♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

When Steve woke up, the light was almost gone between the curtains and Eddie’s breathing was slowed like he was asleep.

His head still ached, but the pounding had gone, and when he looked down at Eddie’s face, everything was clear.

He’d found a place to heal in Eddie. First, his arms, then his heart, and now, the place between his shoulders.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #asks #follower celebration

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morganski-19 · 10 months ago

Text

The One with the Child

Robin and Nancy walk into the café after a long day of work. Stopping when they see Jonathan sitting on the couch reading a book with a toddler sitting next to him, playing with a toy. They share a confused look before walking around the couch.

“Hey Jon,” Nancy leads.

Jonathan looks up from his book. “Oh, hey guys. How was work?”

“Uh, fine,” Nancy says, still confused. “Just one, tiny, quick question.”

“Whose child is that?” Robin points at the toddler looking up at them with big eyes.

“Oh, right, this is Argyle’s niece, Stella. He’s in the bathroom, so I’m watching her for a minute.”

Robin flops on the armchair. “Oh, thank God. I thought that was just a random kid.”

Jonathan gives her a weird look. “Did you think I just stole a child? What gave you the impression that I would do that?”

Robin shrugs. “Someone could have just left the child here. You don’t know. That happens. You would be surprised how many times Steve has had to stay afterschool to sit with a kid whose parent forgot to come pick them up.”

“To be fair, my mom did that a few times when I was a kid.” Nancy pulls one of the other chairs closer. “Only a few times though.”

“My mom did that too. Happens when you’re a single mom.”

Argyle comes back from the bathroom, hair braided down his back. “Hey dudes. You meet Stella?” He sits down on the couch, Stella grabbing his arm and hiding behind it. “She’s a bit shy.”

“Robin thought I stole her.”

Robin makes a high-pitched noise. “I did not. I thought you were picked by a lazy parent to be entrusted with their child. That is far different than stealing.”

“Still doesn’t make it any better.”

Robin rolls her eyes, getting up to go order a coffee at the bar.

“Which sister is Stella’s mom?” Nancy asks, trying to change the conversation.

Argyle tries to get Stella to loosen her grip on his arm but fails. “Julia. She has a job interview in the city today so I’m watching her.”

“And you brought her here?” Robin sits back down with her coffee.

“Hey, this is a family friendly establishment until seven and by then she will be back with her mom. She should be done soon to come pick her up.”

Eddie walks into the café, waving as he orders a coffee at the bar. Doing a double take when he sits down, eyes wide.

“I know I’ve only known you guys for like a year but none of you had a secret kid, right?”

“No, this is my sister’s kid. I’m watching her for a few hours.”

Eddie relaxes in his seat. “Oh, thank God. I could not have dealt with that twice in one week.”

Nancy perks up. “Twice?”

“Yeah, remember my buddy Jeff from high school. Apparently, him and his girl are expecting. Sent me into a whole crisis.”

“Oh, that’s why you were cleaning your room a few days ago.”

“I’m offended that’s why you think I was cleaning, but you’re correct.”

“Why were you having a crisis?” Robin asks over her coffee. “It’s not like we’re not at an age where people we know start having kids.”

Eddie makes a large gesture. “That’s why I was having a crisis. It was the first one of my friends that is taking that next step in life. While I’m still stuck between two jobs, not in a relationship, and a giant fucking mess. Sorry,” he apologizes to Argyle.

“She’s two, she doesn’t know what that word means,” Argyle assures.

Steve comes into the café and sits on the chair next to Eddie. Covering his face in his hands. “If I see another first grader, it’ll be too soon.”

“Bad day.” Robin gives him a sympathetic look.

Steve nods. “Three kids had to be sent to the nurse because they were sick. Three, like visibly sick. They shouldn’t have even been sent in at all. And then the rest were just on edge and didn’t want to settle down after recess. And.” He finally spots Stella on the couch. “One of your sister’s kids?”

Argyle nods. “Yeah. Her mom should be here soon, so don’t worry.”

“I said first graders for a reason. They are monsters. What’s her name?”

“Stella. Do you want to say hi?” he asks her. Stella gives Steve a small wave.

Steve melts a little bit. “You have just made my whole day, Stella.”

A woman who looks a little like Argyle walks into the café. Argyle notices her and stands, picking up Stella from the couch. “Hey, Jules. How was the interview?”

“Pretty good. Thanks for watching her again, I appreciate it.” She takes Stella out of Argyle’s arms. “Did you have a good time with Uncle Argyle?” Stella nods into her mother’s shoulder. “Hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

Argyle shakes his head. “Not at all. Right Jon?”

“Yeah, not at all.”

Julia nods, finally realizing the rest of the group.

“Oh right, Julie, these are my friends. You’ve met some of them. Dudes, this is my sister Julia.”

The group gives a mix of greetings before going back to separate conversations. Julia says hello back before Argyle walks her out of the café.

“It was seriously no trouble watching her, it was nice to see her. And you.”

“I know. Wish I could stay more, but we got to get back.”

“If you need a place to stay, you can chill at our place. I’ll take the couch so you can have a bed.”

Julia shakes her head. “That sweet but I didn’t pack an overnight bag. If we leave now, we might make it before the next rush hour. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you and Jon.”

“Nonsense. You know you’re always welcome at our place.”

“When are you two finally going to cut the crap and get together already. The whole family’s been waiting for it.”

Argyle groans. “Tell me there’s not a betting pool.”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Jesus. I’m not sure we even ever will. He’s like the first best friend I’ve ever had, I don’t want to lose him over some stupid feelings.”

Stella coos, grabbing at her mom’s hair. “We should go before she starts getting fussy. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you will. You might not believe me, but there’s more hope than you think there is. From an outsider’s perspective.”

“So, I can blame you when everything goes up in flames. Nice.” Julie gently slaps his arm. “Call me when you get back, alright.”

“I will. Wave goodbye to Uncle Argyle, Stella.”

“Bye, bye,” Steve whispers with a small wave.

Argyle smiles. “Bye, Stella. Nice seeing you both.”

They walk down the street to where Julia parked as Argyle returns to the café.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

#morgan's friends au #stranger things #stranger things au #friends au #argyle stranger things #jonathan byers #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre relationship #jargyle #steddie #ronance #argyle has siblings #i believe that he would #even though we know next to nothing about him in cannon #but he seems like the guy who has a bunch of siblings #i don't know why

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dmercer91 · 10 months ago

Text

worlds greatest ethan, ee73

in which ethan proves to be better than other ethans (18+)

smth small and a little silly cause i miss you guys real bad (1.2k)

also i did not know what to title this so it’s worlds greatest ethan. like the dad mugs. help me

“anyone ever told you how fuckin’ handsy you get when you’re high?” you shrugged ethan’s arm off from around your shoulder and he grinned, leaning in so you’d place your joint between his lips

he savoured the hit, blowing the smoke out the window and then looking back over at you.

“anyone ever told you how pretty you look when you’re high?” he flirted, watching intently as you took your own long drag

you handed him the pre-roll, leaning forward and opening up the mini fridge in the abandoned van you were in and grabbing a pop for yourself

“how’d you even find this place?” he mumbled, leaning his head back on the couch that was behind him

you cracked open your pop can and sat back down in your spot beside him, his arm immediately finding its place back around your shoulders

you rolled your eyes, sipping your drink before responding

“with my ex,” he hummed slightly, taking the drink from your hand and stealing some. you glared at him and he only put the drink down, ignoring your distaste

“other ethan?” he asked, placing the joint in front of you, eyes dilating as you took a drag, letting him hold it for you.

you nodded, inhaling and exhaling while trying to ignore his gaze that was locked in on your lips

to snap him out of it, you grabbed his arm and took it off of you, then flicked him in the forehead, a warning not to put it back.

you furrowed your eyebrows when he put out your shared fix, pushing the ashtray to the side

“just putting it out there- i’m probably like, way better at fucking than other ethan,” he stated, earning a chuckle

“oh, see, well im never gonna find out cause i have a rule against fucking ethans. i’ve never met a girl who’s dated a non-traumatizing ethan,” he hummed and scanned your face, smirking a little

“what about making out with ethans? with heavily implied sexual undertones that will probably lead to fucking, or whatever,” he joked, smiling at his own comment while fighting off a laugh

you pursed your lips, biting back your grin as to not egg on his attempts.

“hm. well, sometimes. but this one ethan is really pretty and so i know if we make out then i’m probably gonna end up with his dick in me and we don’t want that, do we?” ethan broke, giggling and shaking his head at you

“no. no, we definitely want that, actually. it would be really beneficial for all parties involved,” he explained, turning his body so he was facing you

you bit your lip in contemplation, ethan’s hands moving to soothe along your lower thigh gently.

you glared at him and he smiled back, tilting his head to the side. “c’mere” he mumbled, moving one hand to pat his lap and sliding down the other to tug a little by your knee.

“c’mon, baby. sit, i won’t bite,” he teased, smiling as you got up onto your knees and turned, straddling his lap.

“there we go,” he murmured, squeezing your hips and adjusting you slightly, slotting his nose next to yours and brushing your lips together softly

he waited for you to finish making the first move. you pressed your lips to his, your hands squeezing his shoulders and occasionally moving up to ruffle his hair

long, simple kisses quickly turned to open mouthed, heated ones that had you moaning against him. his grip on your hips tightened and he soon started tugging, dragging you back and forth on his lap

“mm. ethan- nuh uh,” you breathed out, barely interrupting your kisses before they resumed right where they left off

he hummed an ‘m hm’ into you, nodding slightly into the kiss as if he was arguing your demand.

“eddy, you can’t-“ he cut you off with a hand on the back of your head, guiding you into another kiss, along with his hips adjusting so he could guide you to grind on him with one arm.

the shift caused him to press into you tighter, your core throbbing at the feeling.

you whimpered out, ethan smiling into one last kiss before trailing his lips down your neck, nipping.

he hummed as your head lolled back, giving him access to any spot he desired.

“what, baby? i can’t what?” his tone was one of false sincerity, his words a jumbled mess since he was far too focused on brushing your sweater off your shoulder and trailing his mouth there.

“can’t- you can’t. oh, my god. what the fuck is wrong with me,” you whispered, your mind hazy and your hips now moving of your own volition despite ethan’s arm still guiding you

the hand that had been behind your head moved to work off your sweater, then unlace your shorts.

“feel good?” he mumbled, mouth moving to one nipple and quickly to the next, giving each a little attention before moving his head up right

“mh, feels good,” you confirmed, eyes fluttered shut.

he gave you a soft peck on the lips, slowly giving up on his control of your hips and smirking when he saw that you were still grinding, still wanting it.

“yeah? who’s making you feel good?” he asked, only humming to serve as a repetition of his question when you buried your head away in his neck.

“you,” you whispered faintly, gripping onto his bicep roughly

“hm? what was that, baby?” he murmured, fingers slipping into the front of your shorts and quickly swiping through your folds, using the wetness to make circles on your clit.

they were featherlight, but tight and powerful.

you moaned into his ear, the sound broken and rough, your inebriated state not helping with your sensitivity to his touch.

he turned his head slightly, almost looking down at you while waiting for your response.

he tapped your thigh with his free hand and you shook your head slightly, trying to get it on straight.

“you, ethan. you’re making me- fucking, god. that’s-“ you inhaled sharply as he added pressure amid your sentence, effectively cutting you off

“and you don’t fuck guys named ethan?” he smiled, still looking down at you, now enough for you to see the grin he was wearing

“i don’t,” you held your guard, despite his pace slowing right down and then speeding back up, over and over

your eyes fluttered back as he switched his circles to his thumb and slid a finger inside you, cries muffling into his shoulder.

you bit down on him slightly when he added a second, clawing at his other shoulder with your nails.

“most people refer to me as eddy, anyways. i’m hardly even an ethan,” he stated matter of factly, like his fingers weren’t curling up against spots you hadn’t even reached in your dreams

“yeah.. yeah, it’d be like i was fucking an ed. which, ew, but.. no rules against ed’s,” you rushed out, breathless and your head spinning.

he chuckled, petting your hair sweetly so you’d look down at him. you did, eyes glassed over as you fought your orgasm.

“i won’t stop, baby. just tell me you want me to fuck you and i’ll give you anything you want,” he cooed, kissing your forehead a few times.

you whined, your nails pressing deeper into his shoulder and earning a small huff of a moan from him

“want- ..want you to fuck me, e. please?” you begged, ethan smiling at your desperation and the fact that he’d finally get to have you

“gonna fuck you, baby. don’t worry,”

#e’s fics #e goes a little feral #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader

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fuctacles · 1 year ago

Text

Henderson's-brother-centered misadventures continue [Part IV]

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

Eddie screamed. Then, he screamed some more. Then, he got hit with a teddy bear, which bounced off into the floor, barely disturbing his mane of hair.

“You get a drop of spit on my pillow, and you’re washing all my sheets!”

He groaned, like a wounded animal. If animals could be wounded by their best friend’s disloyalty.

“No, dude! You can scream into your own fucking pillow! We can jam if you need, smoke or steal a beer, hell, I can even listen to you. But don’t just come here to stink my room with-” Gareth made a flapping motion in Eddie’s general direction. “Whatever this is.”

Eddie groaned louder before finally rolling onto his back.

“I fucking hate him.”

“I was hoping you’d choose jamming,” Gareth sighed. He threw his leg over his chair and leaned on the back of it. “You mean Big Bro Henderson?”

“Who else?” Eddie threw his hands up into the ceiling. His friend barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “He’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met!”

“Good thing you can’t meet yourself, then.”

Eddie glared at him, but from this angle, it gave him a double chin which severely decreased the look’s efficiency.

“You calling me annoying?”

“Yes.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘lively’. Or ‘charismatic’! Or, or, ‘non-conforming’!”

“No, I’m pretty sure ‘annoying’ is the word. Also, ‘dramatic’.”

Eddie glared again, but since his position has not changed so hasn’t its lack of impact.

“How dare you,” he seethed. Gareth completely ignored it.

“So, what did he do this time? Give you more cookies?”

“No!” He had regretted the decision to tell him about it as soon as it left his mouth, but it was out there now. Well, the price of the blackmail material was listening to it first. “He just…” Eddie trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. ‘He let me sit in his lap for the whole length of Karate Kid’ was so much harder to explain than ‘he gave me an extra cookie for my good work.’ He scrambled to find a better approach.

“So he’s like a therapy dog,” he started, because painting the scene is important.

“What.”

Wrong approach.

“Okay, so I’ve found out he has some issues, something to do with the Starcourt fire, I think? You know nothing of it, by the way, I probably shouldn't know about it. Henderson, well, the little one, just has a big mouth.”

“And so do you. By telling me,” his friend pointed out.

“Emerson, this isn’t about you,” Eddie scolded him. “So he needs extra physical contact or something. And he might have um…” Wrong turn again. “Engaged me in it?”

“Ok, hold on,” Gareth dropped his forehead on the edge of the chair’s back and rubbed his temples. “What do you mean by that? Because I know it’s not as weird as you make it sound.”

Eddie crossed his arms, which looked extra stupid in his horizontal position. He tapped his socked foot against the mattress.

“We were watching Karate Kid, and the couch wasn’t big enough for four people. Nobody else wanted to sit in his lap and I thought it would be, you know, funny, to offer. And he just said ‘okay’, and did it!” His arms flew up into the air again.

Gareth lifted his head.

“So you sat in his lap.”

“He put me in his lap.”

“Dude, you throw your legs all over me when we watch a movie!”

“Yeah, but that’s different!”

“How?”

“Because we’re friends! We play together and shit!”

Gareth scrunched his nose because while he knew of the wisdom his friend possessed (very selective and rarely occurring in the daylight), admitting him right was painful because the cockiness he possessed was probably far greater.

“Well, maybe he’s giving you signs he wants to be friends?”

Eddie snorted.

"No way. Not possible. No."

"And why is that?" Gareth raised an eyebrow at the adamant negation.

"I'm his younger brother's friend-"

"Who's his age."

"-And we like different things. I'm a freak, I like metal and D&D!"

"So does Dustin, and they get along well."

"They are brothers!"

"Well, I actually hate my sister, it’s not a rule."

Eddie groaned.

"I don't know," he ended up saying, just to voice his internal frustration. At least he was facing the ceiling now and not Gareth's pillow.

He hummed, considering his friend, trying to understand his problem, to even locate it.

"Okay, so you don't like that he's nice?"

"Yes."

"... You want him to be mean?"

"... Yes? Maybe?"

Gareth hit his head against the chair.

"This whole conversation is lost on me."

When he looked up he met Eddie's eyes, a storm brewing behind them.

"I don't want to like him. But he makes it hard not to because he's so nice."

‘He treats me like I'm normal, like his equal’, went unspoken but Gareth could hear it anyway. It was time to end the questions for the day because getting any deeper into his friend's psyche could trap him like quicksand.

"And then I go to apologize and end up talking about BDSM of all things!"

"Nope!" Gareth straightened up and hopped out of his chair. "We're going to the garage, so I can't hear you over the drums."

"What a best friend you are," Eddie grumbled but rolled off the bed regardless. He was secretly glad for an excuse to stop talking about Henderson because he started getting lost in his thoughts and feelings himself.

The next time he sees Steve, he doesn’t make it any easier. They see each other only in passing, and the older brother doesn’t give him more than a weak smile and a "Hi, Eddie. Dustin's upstairs," before leaving.

Eddie walks up to his friend's room thoroughly confused.

"What was that about?" he asks instead of a greeting. He never greets his friends properly these days, but there are more important things like ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s.

"What was what about?"

"Steve," Eddie frowns like it explains everything. And apparently, it does.

"I think he's still upset after last time."

Eddie blinks.

"I said I was sorry!"

Dustin rolls his eyes.

"Sorry doesn't solve everything. It's like a," he snaps his fingers looking for a good comparison. "Like one of the spell components. It's not gonna work without all of them."

Guess he is casting Charm Person after all.

"Okay, but like. What are the other components?"

Dustin just shrugs.

"Hell if I know."

Eddie was burdened with the most unhelpful friends.

"What do you do when you upset him?"

Dustin's first instinct is to protest, probably point out what a great little brother he is, but one stern look from Eddie makes him shut his mouth and reconsider his words.

"Well, if I made him upset, I'd help him with dinner, make him coffee or tea, pick a movie I know he'd like. Help out with chores, mostly. He does too much by himself." The frown on his face is deep like the mystery of Steve's adoption and Eddie mirrors it.

"This sounds all great when you're brothers, but I'm not a Henderson, how am I supposed to pull that off?

"You helped with dinner once, you could do it again,"

Eddie sighs, long and suffering.

"I guess…"

"Great! Steve has left to get groceries and is making dinner later, I'm sure he'll appreciate the help!" He grins, knowing full well he just backed his friend into a corner.

Eddie sputters when he realizes that.

“What? Today?”

“No better time than the present.” Dustin shrugs smugly, like it was a universal law they can’t help but follow.

Eddie bristles, because, yeah, true, but…

“I'm not mentally prepared," he complains.

"For what?" Dustin raises his brows in this annoying way of his. "Cooking?"

"You ate my mac and cheese, you understand the severity of the situation!" he yells, accusingly pointing a finger at him.

"Ate is a big word, I spat it out. And calling it mac and cheese is also a big word."

"Exactly!" Usually Eddie didn't like his abilities slandered like that but on the rare occasion when it served his purpose…

"Steve's first casserole was also inedible," Dustin shrugs and Eddie tries to picture Mr. Perfect Housewife fucking up a dish. "You have about an hour to mentally prepare before he's back though. You can spend it finishing your readings."

Ah, right. The mundane purpose of his visit was schoolwork.

Eddie groans. He can only hope the tragic stories of holocaust victims will set him in the right mind for cooking with Steve.

They don’t. He's heavily unprepared for the confrontation when they're running down the stairs to help with the bags.

When Steve's instructing them which things he needs and which can be put away, Dustin elbows his friend in the ribs, hard. He hisses in pain, attracting Steve's attention.

"You staying for dinner?" he asks before Eddie can say anything.

"Uh, if I can help with it, then yeah," he says, feeling Dustin’s annoying beady eyes on himself.

Steve frowns at him.

"You don't have to do that, I’ve told you before."

"Yeah, but I'm done with my work for today," Eddie adds under the menacing gaze. "And my cooking skills need some guidance. Wayne is too old to stomach my food, he can't risk another food poisoning,” he babbles, earning himself a snort from Steve.

“Okay, if it's that bad,” he agrees finally, the smile Eddie has gotten used to once again on his face. "But you'll be under strict supervision."

"Of course!"

"Okay, you already got yourself a kitchen slave, so I can go finish my work," Dustin speaks up before promptly disappearing, only the sound of his rushed retreating steps left.

"Guess we're alone then," Steve comments, giving Eddie an odd look. He thought he was used to those but Steve's were always hard to decipher. Not the exact kind he usually got.

He clears his throat to dislodge the weird feeling clogging it up.

"So, what are we cooking today?"

Steve hums, looking at the ingredients before him.

"You ever cooked soup?"

"Uh, I assume you don't mean the instant kind?"

Steve makes a disgusted face, fake gags for a good measure too.

"Soup it is then. It's getting colder, and I'm sure Wayne would appreciate it," he says, eyeing Eddie questioningly, and this one he deciphers easily.

"My uncle,” he explains. "I live with him."

To his surprise, Steve smiles warmly.

"Wanna make some extra you can heat up for him?"

"That's-" Eddie's taken aback, which doesn't happen to him often. "That would be very nice, thank you."

"It’s nothing. He should know his nephew is spending his time productively."

"I'm always productive," he mutters back a complete lie. But he's been trying, okay?

"I know," Steve says, surprising him again. "Maybe I want to get on your uncle's good side too."

Eddie doesn't ask why. Doesn't want to know. Doesn't speculate. Just leaves it be, bugging him for the time being.

"I was thinking fritters too? Since they're easy to heat up later."

Eddie nods, watching him sort through the vegetables.

"Whatever you say, chef."

Steve instructs him through the soup preparations first, explaining it needs more time to cook.

“I hope you don’t mind veggie broth. El didn’t like chicken and we kinda got used to it. Also, it’s cheaper,” he says, watching Eddie pour water over the vegetables arranged in the pot.

He puts the pot on the burner and looks up.

"Who's El?"

"Dustin's friend. She moved to California though," Steve answers with a frown.

"That's a bit of a drive."

"Yeah," Steve scrunches his nose, then looks back into the pot, before reaching for a box of seasoning.

"Ok, now for the fun part."

Eddie has no idea how seasoning a pot of vegetable water can be fun, but he's not about to argue. He follows instructions and marvels at the amount of weird plants that could be added to food.

"I feel like a witch," he whispers, tossing dried herbs into his cauldron.

Steve chuckles.

"You kinda look like one."

Eddie side-eyes him from his position over the pot.

"I hope that's a compliment."

"Oh, it is," Steve says in a weird voice and Eddie is too afraid to look at him. He flips through the seasoning packets instead, reading unfamiliar names.

"Okay, so this needs a couple of hours to cook, you'll know when it starts getting together from the smell. Then we'll blanche the onions and garlic, add the tomatoes, blend it all, and it's done. Now we can work on the fritters. Have you done them before?"

Eddie thinks about it for a moment.

"I saw my uncle make them."

"Potato ones?"

"Uh, yeah? Are there more options?" he asks, eyebrows drawn together.

"Apparently, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes. “A fritter is technically anything you can grate, slap together and fry in a pancake-ish shape."

"Huh. I've learned so much today already."

Steve laughs.

"So, what do you want in the fritters?" he asks and Eddie is ridiculously giddy about having a choice.

"Can we put meat in them?"

"Yeah, I've made them with bacon before."

Eddie's eyes sparkle.

"Potatoes with bacon and cheese?"

"Holy shit,” Steve groans. “Claudia's gonna kill us, but it sounds so good." He ponders on it for a moment. "We could add corn to pretend there are vegetables in them."

"Ketchup is a vegetable," Eddie points out and Steve bristles.

"We're not eating them with ketchup!" he protests. "But… we could use some of the tomatoes to make a sauce."

Eddie never thought cooking could be this fun.

"Yesss!"

"You're way more excited than I thought you'd be," Steve observes, grabbing the potatoes to wash.

"I'm a growing boy, of course I'm excited about food. Besides, we're like two alchemists; mixing up stuff to make other stuff."

Steve laughs again.

"Are those the guys who tried turning metals into gold?"

"Precisely!"

He's tasked with peeling the potatoes while Steve puts bacon in the oven. He’s never good at it, and he huffs angrily when Steve joins him and gets through three potatoes while he peels one. What's worse, he can see him watching and his fingers twitching.

"Okay, I can see you itching to correct me. Just do it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah man, unless you have some disease I could catch, I'll be fine."

Steve winces and Eddie has a lightning-fast memory of a rumour that gays spread a deadly disease. But Steve isn't gay, probably, and it's just a rumour.

Steve is still haste when he rearranges his fingers on the peeler and takes his hand away like touching him burns.

Eddie frowns. Well, that's not gonna cut it.

"Like this?" he asks, making a motion he knows is wrong.

"No, like-" Steve reaches out and hesitates.

"I don't have cooties, come on."

Steve presses his lips together and wraps his hand around his. He has to move closer too, crowding Eddie's side.

"Like this," he says, whispers really, pushing his hand in the right motion.

This suddenly feels more obscene than it is, but Eddie’s half tempted to push it further.

"Your hands are weirdly soft. Do you steal Robin's hand cream?" he asks instead.

Steve huffs at the backhanded compliment and retraces his soft, big hands.

"No, I have my own."

"Hmm." Eddie cocks his head, looking him up and down. "Should have guessed."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Steve asks with a frown, but he can tell the anger is played up.

"Nothing," Eddie shrugs. "You just look like someone taking care of himself."

Steve keeps looking at him like he is not sure if he should be offended or not so Eddie helps him out by rolling his eyes.

“Don't worry, I judge you more for your music than your hygiene.”

“Of course,” Steve huffs. “You wouldn't know much about hygiene anyway, would you?” he teases with a smirk.

Eddie gasps.

“Are you implying trailer trash don't clean themselves?” he asks, eyes wide and offended.

“What? No!” The smile vanishes instantly from his face. “Of course not!” Steve scrambles to defend himself. But then, he cocks his hip and crosses his arms.

“You know what? No. I stand by it. Your hair needs proper care, not whatever 3 in 1 you treat it with,” he says.

“5 in 1,” Eddie corrects him smugly.

“Five?”

“Hair, body, face, beard and ass,” he lists on his fingers, earning himself a look of disgust from Steve.

“For that alone, you’re washing your hands again.”

Eddie knows he doesn't have to, but complies anyway. Whatever makes the big Henderson happy. And consecutively, the little Henderson. And somehow, Eddie himself.

By the time the sun starts setting, he’s gained some valuable culinary knowledge, including the fact that as a cook, he gets to taste the dishes all the time. His growing boy tummy is satiated with a stolen strip of bacon and one of the test fritters he’s munching on, when they hear the door unlock.

“I’m home!” a woman’s voice calls out. Eddie freezes.

“We’re just finishing dinner!” Steve calls back while the man next to him shrinks on himself, looking up at him and wondering why he isn’t being pushed into a closet like a secret paramour.

“Your mom is here?!” he seethes through his teeth, eyes jumping from Steve to the door.

“Well, yeah?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “She lives here?”

“But why am I here?!”

Was Steve this stupid or did he not grasp the severity of the situation?

“You’re cooking? Staying for dinner? Studying? The fuck do you mean man?” he answers, more or less matching his volume.

“Mothers hate me!” Eddie reminds him helpfully, making Steve only roll his eyes with a huff.

“Claudia likes you.”

“She never saw me,” he reminds him. Because as soon as any of the suburban moms caught a whiff of his metal vest, his dark clothes and long hair, he felt disgusted eyes on his back.

And when the Satanist drug dealer rumours reach them? Things only get worse.

“Dude-”

“Oh, hi boys!” A tired-looking blond woman enters the kitchen. Her smile doesn’t waver despite Eddie’s presence, meaning she must have seen some shit in her life. “You didn’t tell me we’ll have a guest today.”

Steve steps in before he can put his foot in his mouth, laying his big warm hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie finished his work early and wanted to help in the kitchen. Hope that’s alright.”

At the mere thought it wouldn’t be, Eddie’s stomach twisted.

“Of course! The more, the merrier!” Claudia smiled, still seemingly genuine, before stepping closer and extending her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you, Eddie. I’ve heard a lot about you from my boys.”

Steve’s hand is still on him squeezing minutely to remind him to shake Claudia’s hand.

“Likewise.” He smiles to his best ability, unable to remember the last time he was friendly with someone's parents. Except Gareth's, maybe.

“What did boys make?” she asks, sniffing the air and trying to peek over his shoulder.

“Tomato soup, like you asked, and some fritters.”

“With veggies, I hope?” She squints at her oldest (newest?) son.

“There’s corn in them, and we made a tomato sauce.” He smiled brightly and Eddie could tell he was happy to play the good kid role.

“Good. I’m gonna change and get back to you,” she says before disappearing upstairs, probably to harass the younger Henderson now.

“Why was she so nice?” Eddie muses, half to Steve, half to himself, half to the universe in general. Wait, that's three halves. Well, he didn’t fail school because of his great math skills.

“She's always nice.” Steve steps away to work on the next batch of fritters.

“Not to me! Mothers hate me! I bet she’s just pretending but as soon as I disappear, you're gonna hear all about it!”

“Hey!” Steve turns back towards him, frowning. And uh-oh, he upset him again. On his reverse-upset mission. “Claudia’s not some uptight bitch like that. She likes all our friends and you're not an exception. Just because you dress differently isn’t gonna ban you from the house or get us in trouble.” He knocks him on the head for good measure. “You’re safe here.”

“Okay,” Eddie simply says, taken aback. Being welcomed somewhere was a feeling he still had to process.

“We're safe here,” was a soft addition he almost missed over his own loud thoughts but made him even more curious about Steve himself.

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 @just-a-tiny-void @clumsiluni @shotgunhallelujah @halfadoginatank @carlprocastinator1000 @irregular-child

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #mine #ff #st #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #steve henderson #the hendersons

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writer-in-theory · 2 years ago

Text

A Cat Named Eddie — part three.

part one part two part three

"I know, I know, Eds," Steve coos the moment the door shuts, pressing a kiss to the top of the cat's head and stepping further into the house. "So much yelling, 'm sorry for scaring you."

"Did you scare my sweet prince? How dare you!" Robin calls from the living room, spun around on the couch to glare at him. Steve rolls his eyes, handing off the cat who immediately curls up in her lap. Traitor.

"No, his namesake did." Steve places his hands on the back of the couch, leaping over it like he might a hurdle to land beside Robin. Both her and Eddie give him the same look: annoyance, irritation, disbelief that he had the gall to disturb them. "Showed up yelling about how he deserves an apology."

"Seriously?" Robin asks, hand stopping her petting of Eddie until the cat nips as a signal to continue. "Bastard," she hisses, looking down at the creature, "you and your namesake."

"Don't call my cat a bastard," Steve says, nudging Robin's elbow with his foot as he extends his legs and leans back against the armrest of the couch.

"Seriously, though. Eddie just showed up and demanded an apology?"

"Yep," Steve pops the 'p' and crosses his arms over his chest.

"That doesn't sound like Eddie," Robin says, raising an eyebrow in his direction. "Is this another moment where I find out how dramatic you are?"

"No," Steve nearly shouts, rolling his eyes at little Eddie's huff of annoyance at his volume. "I'm not dramatic. That's exactly how it happened."

"Steven-"

"My name isn't short for Steven, I've told you-"

"-there is no way it happened like that." Steve wanted to smack her. He also wanted to hug her. Best friends were really confusing sometimes.

"It basically happened like that," Steve corrects himself, leaning forward to pry Eddie off of Robins lap. The cat lasts for a few seconds on his lap before he slides off, curling up between Steve's hip and arm. "He accused me of making fun of him, which was completely off base, then he stands there and demands an apology from me like I'd done something wrong. And get this, Robs, he was looking at me like he did in school, which, fine but it hurts, you know? Then he sees little Eddie and he completely freaks out, acts like I never to—Oh, shit, Robin."

"What?"

"I messed up," Steve breathes, the hand not petting the cat moving to swipe through his hair. "I think I forgot to tell Eddie about Eddie."

He meant to, he really did. But from the first moment the name slipped from his mouth Steve knew it was something big. People didn't just name their pets after people for no reason, not even if they were merely friends. No this was important, and the more Steve thought about confessing to Eddie the more his head swam and his heart raced so hard he thought it might pop free from his chest. So sure, maybe he'd chosen to stop thinking about it.

"Steve! What do you mean?" Robin exclaims, sitting up to show how immersed in the conversation she was.

"Eddie and Eddie Hair-rington haven't met...technically," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing against the response he knew he'd get from his friend.

"So you've been talking about little Eddie around big Eddie with literally zero context? Dingus!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"How many times has Eddie thought you called him a fucker? Or a bastard? Or a-"

"I get it!" Steve groans, "Still. I've heard the kids call him so much worse, and he didn't..." He didn't what? Didn't lay into their entire personalities? Their interests? Their whole fucking worth? Reduce all of it down to bullshit, bullshit, bullshit?

"You know what my biggest pet peeve is, Stevie?" Robin asks, voice oddly carrying a light lilt despite the heaviness sinking in Steve's chest.

"People stealing your mouthpiece?"

"Ew, no—but yes," Robin shudders. "No, it's when stupid, darling, stupid men don't get their shit together and kiss."

Best friends were terrible and Steve didn't like them, actually. It wasn't that he'd never thought about kissing Eddie—on the contrary, as time went on it became nearly impossible to have an interaction with the man without the thought crossing his mind—but rather that it was so damn obvious to Robin that he wanted to.

"I don't want to kiss Eddie," Steve tries, "I'm mad at him."

"No, dingus, you're heartbroken." She says it simply, like the thought should have occurred to him ages ago. It probably should have, of course, but there's no way Steve would ever tell her that. "And it sounds like he is too. So maybe try...oh I don't know...talking?"

"That's a terrible idea. Plan B."

"Steve," Robin admonishes, and it reminds him too much of when his middle school teacher used to talk to him in that voice, the kind that says she knows he knows what he did wrong. He does.

"Fine, fine! Next time Eddie shows up at Family Video I'll talk to him." Steve smirks, knowing he's already won. Eddie hadn't been in since the day he said such horrible things to Steve, when he left Steve breathless and fighting back shocked tears over realizing how Eddie really thought of him.

"Deal."

Steve Harrington should know never to doubt Robin Buckley.

The second Eddie walks through the double doors of Family Video, Steve's head hits the counter. He tucks it into his folded arms, hoping that might help him disappear. Maybe Eddie miraculously lost his idea of object permanence in the past twenty-four hours?

Eddie hits the little bell to signal he needs help. Robin loudly announces that she's going on break despite it being only nine in the morning and a mere hour into their shift. Steve feels like he might lurch over the side of a cliff.

"I don't have a lawn mower," Eddie says, and Steve still doesn't pick his head up from the counter. "I don't have anything to give you that would make up for this."

"I don't need anything from you," Steve says automatically, lifting his head to reveal a gentle smile on Eddie's face, the man's dark eyes shimmering in spite of the shitty fluorescent lights of the shop. "Everything's fine, Eddie."

"It's not," Eddie corrects, but not in the harsh way he'd thrown the words the previous night. He says it in the way he would remind him that Steve's character is a paladin, or that Ozzy was in Black Sabbath not Dio. It was the voice Eddie used when he pointed out the obvious in the kindest, most gentle way anyone could so as to spare Steve the embarrassment.

"It is," Steve insists, "and you know, it's kinda busy in here so—"

"Attention faithful Family Video patrons!" Eddie shouts, climbing up onto the counter and spreading his arms like he had thousands of people watching him instead of the ten or fifteen occupying the building.

"Eddie, c'mon, man, what are you doing?" Steve sighs, cheeks heating up red at all of the eyes staring at the two of them.

"I, Eddie Munson, officially admit that I was wrong. Not all jocks are airheaded and lame," Eddie continues, grinning and winking at one of the women giving him a nasty look. All Steve could do was drop his head into one hand, peering up at the man between his fingers. "Steve Harrington in all his brilliant heroism has shattered the Munson Doctrine forever. That is all, carry on!"

"You really didn't have to do that," Steve says immediately once Eddie hops off the counter into the employee side. "Really."

"Like I said, this was the best I had without a lawn mower."

"You're terrible," Steve responds, though a little smile works its way past the blush on his cheeks.

"I also want to apologize just..." Eddie pauses to glance around the store before looking back at Steve's eyes, then briefly dropping down to look at his lips. Fuck. "Somewhere with less people."

Right, they were still in public. "Right, um...I'm off at 4? Come by the house?"

"I'll be there, Stevie," Eddie promises, stumbling far-less-gracefully back over the counter. Steve laughs, because something about Eddie's persistent earnestness makes it impossible to truly stay mad at him forever.

"Okay, listen up, buddy," Steve says seriously once he hears a knock on the door, lifting up Eddie Hair-rington's front paws so he could look him in the eyes. "We've got a new friend coming over, okay? Listen to me really closely. No biting, no scratching, no being a giant chaos monster that feeds off the pain of humans, got it?"

Eddie blinks.

"Glad we understand each other." Steve sets Eddie down, straightening up his own hair before opening the door. "You actually came."

"You thought I wouldn't?" Eddie asks, bouncing on his feet until Steve moves out of the way so he could step into the house.

"I dunno," Steve admits, shrugging once. "You seemed pretty upset before."

"Yeah, I..." Eddie trails off, looking up at the ceiling briefly before refocusing on Steve. "I don't know how to say any of it but-"

"I know I messed up. I should've told you about little Eddie, and I didn't," Steve blurts out, trying to save Eddie at least a bit of explaining. "I should've told you."

"I could've asked," Eddie returns, and yeah he could've. It would've saved a lot of strife, a lot of fucking chest pain and swiped away tears if he would have just—

"Yeah, you should've," Steve admits quietly.

Eddie steps closer, brown eyes nothing but earnest as he speaks. "I didn't mean any of it. Shit, Steve, I don't know why I said half of what I did, I just thought it'd be better to hurt you before you hurt me worse."

"I wouldn't 've," Steve says, trying to ignore the persistent scratching and tugging he feels on his left pant leg. This was too serious a moment, Eddie's eyes were too soft and too vulnerable, and Steve didn't want it all too end before—

"Is that the hero of the hour?" Eddie beams, bending down to grab at little Eddie before Steve can warn him. Eddie, no, the little shit bites everyone, it takes weeks to get him to warm up to you and even then—

"He is such a little asshole," Steve hisses, watching as little Eddie immediately snuggles against Eddie's chest, purring delightedly. Steve points to the cat, who's now looking at him with way too much attitude for such a tiny body. "You're a traitor. Remember who gives you tuna, you tiny gremlin."

"I don't know, Stevie, he seems like an innocent sweetheart to me," Eddie teases, eyes on the cat as he pets little Eddie's ears. "Just like his namesake."

"Uh huh," Steve says in monotone. "I get why you like each other."

"That so?"

"Yeah, you both like torturing me."

"I don't know about that, Steve," Eddie says, stepping closer. His hand stills on little Eddie, moving instead to adjust a piece of stray hair out of Steve's face.

The touch burns in the way it nearly makes Steve gasp, the way it makes him feel like he'd never been alive at all before this moment. He wonders if it was supposed to be like that, or if sometimes he just felt too much too brightly.

"I know I'm giving you a lot of mixed signals, but I really do like you, Steve," Eddie practically whispers.

"You have a lot of making up to do," Steve breathes, chest fluttering at how close Eddie was to him.

"That right?"

"Uh huh," Steve says. "Lots of groveling, cheesy speeches like the stunt you pulled at Video, and definitely bribing little Eddie."

Eddie laughs, a deep sound that rumbles straight through Steve. “I can do that. Little Eds deserves some pampering.”

They would have to talk about it further, the hurt and the missteps and all the ways this could have been avoided. But for now, Steve allows himself to relish in the feeling of Eddie's lips on his.

That is, until a persistent meow causes them to pull apart.

Thank you so much for reading everyone! I wouldn't be opposed to writing a lil blurb here and there of Steve, Eddie, and Eddie, so let me know if that's something anyone would want. I'm also going to clean this up a little and put it on Ao3 eventually!

It wouldn't let me tag everyone at once so I'll reblog this with the rest of the people who asked to be tagged in just a minute!

TAGLIST: @estrellami-1 @sjullay @swimmingbirdrunningrock @background-noise-headache @wowimwhatibingewatch @obsessive-anddepressive @krazyperson @nonsense-of-dimitri @whimsicalwitchm @zerokrox-blog @electrick-marionnett @the-redthread @juststeddiebrainrot @dollalicia @vi-an-te @lioniheart @unclewaynemunson @stevesbipanic @ajamlessbaby @qomrades @ivydragon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @apricottree @gleek4twd @messrs-weasley @makewavesandwar @renaissan-vvitch @artiststarme @suikatto @proudbaconatornyoom @ilikechocolatemilkh @0o-queendean-o0 @dangdirtydemons @v3lnys @mybradforddream @giveemhales @gaydrieeen @runtyghost @luthienstormblessed @goggles-mcgee @odetolimerence @paintsplatteredandimperfect @readbythestarlight @slit-wrist @imzadidragonfly

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steddie headcanon #jay writes in theory

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