#also also the boy sleeping in Eddie’s bed

[urhoneycombwitch]

I'm currently so bogged down with end of year college assignments and it's distracting me from the really important things in life (Eddie) (and also ur blog). I'll love you forever if you could please write something sweet and domestic (maybe smutty who knows) about reader coming home to babyboy after a long day of being busy and just catching up🥺💕

foreword: wrote this with linecook!Eddie in mind hope that’s ok! some fluff and comfort for ur dash <3

wc: 1.2k

cw: fluff, food eating, soft Eddie who’s also kinda… soft!dom in this, gn!reader (pet names used)

___

The long work day has finally caught up with you, hitting like a freight train just as you drag your weary self through Eddie’s door. Every limb feels heavy as you clumsily pull your arms from your coat sleeves, fingers blundering through the motions of unlacing your work boots.

“Eddie?” Even your voice sounds tired. There’s no sign of your boy in the living room or kitchen; you push open his bedroom door, only to still in the doorframe.

Eddie’s stretched out facedown on his bed, cheeks rosy with sleep and half-squished against the patchwork quilt. His hair is a riotous sprawl down the thin white tank top of his back, dark strands curling in on themselves with the rise and fall of his deep, slumbering breaths.

You tiptoe around the pile of his work clothes on the carpet- he must have just beat you home- and fondly stroke a hand down the slope of his back. He twitches in his sleep, hand tucked under his chest mindlessly seeking your affection.

You give in, for the time being. Strip down to your own underclothes, slot the length of your body next to his, let your bare legs tangle together while you nuzzle at the top of his head.

Eddie smells smoky and warm, like the cigarettes from his smoke breaks; he was on grill today, you think, maple pancakes and the heavy fattiness of bacon faint under the Irish Spring and cologne he’d dotted onto his neck this morning.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but the next thing you know, Eddie’s lips are pulling you from a dream, hazy with love. He kisses your cheek, the arch of your brow, strokes a ring-cooled knuckle down the column of your neck before kissing there, too.

“What d’ya want for dinner, angel?”

His voice is thick with sleep. Your lashes flutter in response.

“Mmm. A nap.”

Eddie chuckles, leans forward to mouth at the top of your shoulder. “How about pasta?”

You hum lightly in affirmation, sliding an elbow into the mattress to start getting up- but Eddie squeezes the meat of your arm, stilling your movements.

“Where you goin’?”

Through bleary eyes, you find the dark chocolate of Eddie’s, which are trained on your face with sparkling amusement.

“Uh. Was gonna help you? I’m not the only one who worked a long shift today-”

“Absolutely not.” His hair ripples over both shoulders as he shakes his head. “You think I’m lettin’ you be sous-chef after starting a fire in my damn kitchen? Forget about it.”

You scoff, defiant, pushing up into your arm to glare- “It was a paper towel that briefly caught alight. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Fat chance.” Eddie puts one big hand over the entirety of your face, pushing until you give, maneuvering your head back to the pillow. “I’m making pasta and you’re gonna lie here all pretty ‘til it’s done. Capiche?”

In answer, you pout, but close your eyes obediently- from experience, you know it’s pointless to argue.

He presses a final kiss to your temple, taking the warmth of his hands with him as he heads to the kitchen.

You doze for the next few minutes, sleep flirting at the edges of your mind, the clanking and bustling noises from down the hall a familiar backdrop that nearly lulls you back to dreamland.

“Soup’s on.” Eddie pads back into the room, light from the hallway cutting a bright path against the floor. His palm cups the side of your cheek, then slips down to pat at your hip. “C’mon. Up.”

He’s irritatingly pushy tonight- but then, he’s always in a mood until you’ve eaten something. That protective nature overrides Eddie’s deep desire to snuggle back up to you on the bed; he slides a hand around your wrist, coaxing gentle but firm until you’re on your feet.

A steady palm at your lower back guides you down the hall, to the dining chair. Buttery smells hang in the air, tantalizing as Eddie places two bowls on the table. There’s a steaming whorl of linguini in both, oily noodles flecked with pesto, roasted veggies gleaming in a colorful arc around one side.

You watch as Eddie quietly slides a fork across the scratched wood surface, settling into his own chair, leaning back with one eyebrow raised.

Out of habit, you pick up the fork to twirl around some pasta, stabbing a piece of broccoli on the end for good measure before taking a bite. The flavors flood in, rich and smooth, a low ‘mmm’ of approval- not solely for Eddie’s benefit. He’s a goddamn fantastic cook.

Satisfied with your reaction, Eddie digs in, too. A pleasant, quiet few minutes pass as you both eat. The last bits of light from the window above the sink dim, the sun giving way to dusk. From the distant forest, a mourning dove coos, and a Joni Mitchell song from a neighbor’s porch radio answers in fragments.

There’s soft lamplight from the adjoining living room, casting Eddie’s face in ochre glow as he scoots both your empty bowls to the side. He rises, then tsks at you when you reach for the dishes- “Don’t even think about it-” before pulling you with him towards the couch.

Stomach full and satiated, you allow yourself to be maneuvered by his hands once again- this time he settles on a couch cushion, tossing a pillow between his planted feet on the ground for you to sit.

“Hardly seems fair,” you argue, weakly, although you’re already sat, his thumbs pressing at the nape of your neck. “You already made dinner and now you’re… you…”

Your resolve gives out in a single move as Eddie starts massaging the tight muscles near your spine, snaking his fingers up with practiced pressure.

“Wha-at,” he complains back in equal measure, faux-pity more on the mocking side when he follows the line of muscle up into your scalp, working underneath your hair now with a scalp scratch that feels so good it should be illegal- “Can’t just let me take care of you? S’wrong with that?”

If you opened your mouth surely nothing but a moan or equally telling, garbled speech would escape, so you shut it. Let your neck loll and go lax into Eddie’s touch, sink deeper into the V of his legs.

He murmurs some praise in response, words that you’re too far gone to hear, but it’s accompanied by a quick brush of his lips to the crown of your head before his fingers soothe further up.

The Joni song ends, fades into the steady rhythm of Eddie working out all the tension from your muscles with loving hands, the promise of a comforting evening like a warm blanket around you both.

#what can i say linecook!Eddie really brings out the sub buried deep within me #not sorry #linecook!Eddie #linecook!Eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu

[morganbritton132]

I want a fic where Steve gets kicked out or he moves out of his parents house, or something. Eddie insists that Steve comes and lives with him but fails to mention that he lives with his uncle. For some reason, they both decide to just not tell Wayne.

So Eddie is hiding a boy in his room and he thinks they’re killing it. Steve thinks they’re killing it too. Wayne knows the entire time.

#Steve’s car is likr parked at the entrance of the trailer park #also the fancy shampoo in the shower and the clean kitchen and the whisperer converdations through thin walls #also also the boy sleeping in Eddie’s bed #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson

[noctiivagus]

@fiercehearts​​ ; left a voicemail ⸻😘 ( steve for eddie & billy this lil liar )

                    → send 😘 to kiss my muse

          WHILE FOR THE MOST PART BILLY HAD STOPPED WONDERING,  there were still times that he couldn’t help asking himself how they hell did he end up in such situation  ?    Exactly what was happening in that moment,  as the first light of the morning filtered through the windows of the van,  the warmth of Steve’s back pressed against his side almost a constant in the last couple of weeks.    Strange how life seemed to work,  huh  ?    Be Billy hadn’t been able to dwell on his thoughts for too long before he felt the other man move,  head turning towards him,  and ocean hues met the sleepy ones of the other.    But before he could speak a kiss was pressed against his mouth,  and Billy found himself chuckling against Steve’s lips.    ❝  Someone woke up in a good mood,  hm  ?  ❞    A teasing murmur.

          Billy stretched the arm that Steve had been sleeping on,  flexing it a couple of times,  christ,  he really should get him to stop sleeping like that,  but that could wait,  Billy reached over,  fingers tangling in unruly dark hair.    See,  that was what he was talking about,  how did he end up sharing such cramped space to sleep with not just Steve,  but Eddie too.

          The touch was enough for Eddie to stir up,  despite things being better, sleep was still something he struggled with,  and an annoyed huff left his mouth before he batted the hand away.    Mere moments later Eddie was turning onto his side,  an arm sliding around Steve’s middle,  ❝  Always hogging all the attention,  Hargrove.  ❞    A playful bite on Steve’s shoulder.

          Oh,  if a smirk didn’t grace Eddie’s features at hearing the annoyed groan coming from Billy when he felt Steve turning around once more.    The hold he had on Steve tightening ever so slightly,  and Eddie’s expression only softened when their mouths met in a rather gentle kiss.    

#fiercehearts #billy hargrove: answered #eddie munson: answered #billy hargrove: ft. steve harrington #eddie munson: ft. steve harrington #billy hargrove: verse: main #eddie munson: verse: main #roadtrip boys uwu #let them travel in a volkswagen t2b kombi and sleep in a makeshift bed in the back of it all cramped together lmao #also go me for managing to keep this short fshdofd

[blushweddinggowns]

I'm all for the angsty overhearing a conversation trope where it's all sad because of a misunderstanding. But I also love the opposite. Overhearing a conversation where the other person is just singing their praises. Especially with Steve and Eddie.

Like Steve being very aware that he likes Eddie, but way too afraid of rejection to actually do anything about it. So he just pines away, and gets closer and closer to him with the full expectation of it never going anywhere. Until one day, he comes to pick Dustin up from Hellfire too early, and he can hear everyone talking through the door. About him. But mostly it's Eddie, his loud voice carrying across the room. And he's just raving about him, and somehow managing to bring him up in conversations that have nothing to do with him.

Do you remember that time Steve saved my life by shoving my guts back into my body? Yeah, that's the level of skill and luck you're going to need to survive this.

Did you guys know that Steve actually gave me this background music? He's weirdly knowledgeable about classical stuff. Isn't that cool? He's so smart and-oh, yeah, the merchant agrees to the deal.

So uh, is Steve maybe seeing anyone? He isn't right? Like he would tell me if he was, wouldn't he?

And he doesn't give a single fuck at the collective groaning of the group whenever he gets going, never failing to pull out the I almost Died saving the world with you card to get them to shut up. And by the time it actually ends, Steve is a glowing, blushing mess who can't stop smiling.

Or the other way around. With Eddie full on assuming he has 0 shot because Steve's, Steve.

The golden boy who could obviously never be into him like that, or any other guy for that matter. So he doesn't do anything about his feelings, he just hangs out with him more and more and falls for him more and more, waiting for the inevitable day when he gets a girlfriend and his fantasies could finally die. Except one day, he spends the night at Steve's, but he isn't in bed when he wakes up. He goes to find him, just to hear him downstairs loudly talking to Robin. Because neither of them know the concept of inside voices when they're together. And he waits at the top, listening in just for the fuck of it, but mostly because he doesn't want to interrupt.

"I just feel like bed sharing the way you guys do is gay as hell," Robin sighed, "Especially at your age. Also, should we even be talking about this with him in the house?"

And before Eddie has time to freak out over that and the possibility he's gotten caught with his feelings, Steve is already answering, "I know right? And don't worry about it, he sleeps like the dead. But I don't know what to do about it. He still hasn't done anything. Am I just reading this whole thing wrong?"

"Well you could try making the first move instead of trying to trick him into doing it," Robin tried.

"And ruin our friendship incase I'm wrong? Yeah, no. Besides, I go like, full dumbass around him when I'm nervous. He's too hot. I'd probably walk into a wall in the middle of professing my undying love."

"Yeah," Robin sighed, "You probably would."

And Eddie is just having a moment upstairs. A full on I think I may have to jump for joy moment. Or even, I think I'm five seconds away from squealing like a teenage girl moment.

Yeah, I like that shit.

#steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #cutsy bullshit because im struggling so hard with my fic #i do actually love the misunderstandings trope #but i also love accidently confessing within ear shot

[morganski-19]

part 1

The next day, there’s someone new to visit Steve. Making Wayne stop in his tracks on his third coffee run. The rumors were true, the Chief isn’t as dead as he was a year ago. Just lost what looks to be half his body weight and all of his hair. Looking gaunt and malnourished. 

But he’s alive. That has to count for something.

Wayne wishes the Chief was there to see him. Give him the key to unlock the chain around Eddie’s wrist. So he’d be able to wake up to a clean slate. That his record will be clear and he won’t get carted off to jail as soon as he’s stable. So Wayne will be able to bring him home. 

Once he has a home to go to. Not just a shitty hotel room that costs more than it should for a night. But it’s right next to the hospital, so Wayne can be here in five minutes if something happens. When his boy wakes up. He has to wake up. 

It’s been five days since Eddie was brought in. Twelve since Wayne saw him last. All he wants is to hear his obnoxiously loud music blaring down the hall while he’s trying to sleep. Or the laughter that could make him smile even when he didn’t want to. Wayne wants his Eddie back, the boy he watched grow all of these years. He’s not ready for the day Eddie wakes up and the light is gone from his eyes. 

Because it will be. Wayne’s seen enough people come back from combat a completely different person. With the scars that are sewn into Eddie’s torso, up his neck, one on his cheek. There’s no doubt that he’s been through something unimaginable. Life changing. 

As much as Wayne wants Eddie to wake up. He’s not ready for him to wake up changed. 

There’s a knock on the hospital door before it opens. Wayne’s expecting a nurse to check Eddie’s vitals, tell him the same shit they have for days. That all is good and he’s progressing. It should be any day now that he wakes up. If the damage to his body wasn’t too much for him. Those words of hope lack their meaning now. 

But instead of a nurse walking through the door, it’s the Chief. 

“Can I sit?” He motions to the chair next to Wayne.

“I suppose.”

The Chief sits next to Wayne, not looking at him. “I hear he’s been in a coma for a few days now.”

Wayne nods, not much in the mood for talking. Civilly at least. Push the right button and the volcano is about to burst. 

“I’ve known a few people who’ve been in medically induced ones like this. They all wake up in the end.”

“I’d like for the cuffs to be off his wrist when he does,” Wayne snaps. Knowing that the Chief has the key to unlock them. “That way he can recover as an innocent man. Like he should.”

The Chief takes a deep breath. “I’m not fully reinstated yet. I don’t have the authority to do anything about that. Even if-”

“Even if what?” Wayne looks at the Chief. Anger filled his voice. “Even if he’s innocent. I know he’s innocent. My boy, my boy could barely hurt a fly, let alone a living, breathing person. He was kinder than people gave him credit for. This town gave him so much shit that he didn’t deserve. Still is. When I’m afraid he might never wake up the same again. So I’d like the cuffs off, so he knows that some part of this town sees him as something other than a villain.”

Finally looking Wayne in the eyes, the Chief takes a second to think. Nodding his head in thought. “You smoke?”

Wayne scoffs. “That really what you're thinking of right now?”

“Answer the question.” Something about the Chief makes Wayne believe there’s more to his words. 

“I do.”

“Great,” he stands, waiting for Wayne at the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

Wayne gets up, mainly because he doesn’t really have a choice but also because he wants to see where this is going. They pass Harrington in the hall, talking to someone on the phone. 

“Yeah, I’m free tomorrow. Can’t wait to sleep in my own bed. No don’t do that. Cause I don’t think it’s time to throw a party yet, not while.” He makes brief eye contact with Wayne as they walk by. Before turning away. “Just won’t feel right without all of us.”

Wayne has no clue who he’s talking about, but it’s probably not Eddie. Hopes it isn’t. He still doesn’t know how he feels about this kid, even if he knows Eddie’s innocent. Doesn’t forgive him from his past, if rumors are true. And knowing who his dad is, Wayne wouldn’t be surprised if they all were true. 

The Chief leads him to the side of the hospital, where there’s no foot traffic. No one around to hear. Wayne suddenly understands what this might all be about. Something not for wandering ears. 

“What I say does not leave this conversation,” he starts, handing Wayne a cigarette. Lighting his own before passing the lighter to Wayne. “Got it?”

Wayne nods. 

“I know Eddie’s innocent. But there’s some weird shit that was happening around then that I cannot tell you about it. All you need to know is that the Feds are involved, and they’re looking for a fall guy. And I’m trying my hardest to make sure that the fall guy isn’t your nephew. So while it might not seem like it, some progress is being made. Your nephew will be a free man when he wakes up. I give you my word on that.”

“I don’t even know how to start processing what you just said.” Wayne takes a long drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke blow out into the alleyway. 

The Chief laughs. “That was all of us the first time this happened. I’d say it gets easier but it really doesn’t.”

“The first time?”

“There’s a lot more to this town than meets the eye.”

“How do I know your word is any good?”

The Chief considers this for a moment. “You don’t really. But who else do you know who can fix this?”

With that, the Chief nods goodbye and heads to the parking lot. Leaving Wayne with more questions than answers, and a little flame of hope he’s wishing won’t get put out.

I don't know how many parts this will be but I do know they will be posted sporadically whenever I have time to write them. So, no promises of consistency.

also, tag list. I tagged anyone who asked/seemed interested in a part two. please let me know if you would like to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar

#stranger things #wayne munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #jim hopper #pre steddie #post season 4 #hospital

[eddiesghxst]

ohhh the post about eddie masturbating in the bathroom was AMAZING AHHH!!

could i request something where nancy, robin, jonathan, eddie & reader are having a sleepover at steve’s & when everyone’s asleep eddie & reader get all handsy, so she jerks him & then rides him, trying to be quiet because they’re still in the same room as the others (robin sleeps with steve in his bed & jonathan, nancy & the two of you on the ground on mattresses) but at some point they move it to the bathroom just a few doors down.

in the end, steve gets woken up & catches them in the bathroom because they accidentally left the door open but they don’t notice so steve just goes back to bed traumatized for life💀😩

sorry it’s a bit long i just LOVE your writing!!

because i won't be able to get the next part of price of fame up this week, here is some spooky slut action to tithe <3

ALSO, im so sorry it took me forever to write this BUT THANK U STINK, i changed a few things around, i hope u don't mind, but here u gooo!

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

It’s wrong.

What you and Eddie are doing is so wrong.

It's gross and something you would probably scrunch your nose at and fake a gag if anyone ever told you they did it. But fuck, you’d be lying if you said it isn’t turning you on to no end— Eddie’s fingers working you towards your first orgasm as your nails dig into his thighs to keep you grounded as you try to remain quiet for your sleeping friends.

The older half of the gang decided to pull a spooky night at Steve’s place, ‘This is strictly rated-R, shitheads.’ Steve explained when the younger half tried to join in. You’d all settled into Steve’s comfy basement after a long week and ran through A Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Carrie, and endless junk food and beers before everyone slowly began to tap out.

Jonathan was the first to fall asleep, and once Nancy noticed, she went ahead and moved them to the bigger couch, where she inevitably dozed off as well. Robin was next, claiming she could feel her arteries clogging up with the amount of sugar you’d all ingested and, ‘If I die, it better be in my sleep, not watching shitty horrors with you three idiots.”

And then it was just you, Eddie, and Steve.

One thing about Eddie is when the lights go down in a room, and he’s next to you, hands will roam. Fingers will grab and squeeze at skin, caress and provoke goosebumps across your arms, and eventually sneak into sensitive areas— and it doesn’t matter who else is in the room.

You already knew where things were going when you felt Eddie’s cool rings press into the warm skin of your thigh. You had just begun the fourth movie of the night, Ghostbusters, because you claimed you needed a break from the horror movies, and Eddie couldn’t wait any longer to get his hands on you. Luckily, Eddie’s wandering hands are hidden beneath the blanket you share, so Steve is clueless about the sinful actions happening across the room.

And you were able to hold off your moans and whimpers for the most part, but Eddie was getting mean with it. Two fingers dipping in and out of your wet cunt at a painfully slow and agonizing pace that had your legs quivering. He occasionally curves his fingers up to brush up against your spot, teeth digging into his lip to hide the groan of pain when your nails dig deeper into his skin— he’s sure you’ll leave a mark. And you were doing good. 

You were doing so good.

Until Eddie added a third finger, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Fuck sweetheart, you get any wetter than this, and I might have to fuck you now,” with an added swirl of his thumb over your clit, and you were done for.

You moan unexpectedly loud and pathetic, and anybody with common sense would know what the two of you are doing. The sweaty palm of your hand slaps over your mouth as your eyes widen in surprise, gaze snapping over to where Steve is laid back in the La-Z-Boy recliner, and from this angle, with Steve’s chair turned towards the TV, you can only see his full head of fluffy brown hair. 

You don’t want to risk it, you think. So, you curl your fingers around Eddie’s wrist and pathetically tug, “Steve,” You whisper, alerting Eddie that maybe this isn’t a good idea.

But Eddie only nuzzles his face into your neck and quickens the pace of his fingers, reveling in the soft gasp you let out as he whispers in your ear, “He’s asleep.”

You look to where Steve is sitting again, wearily searching for any signs that he might still be awake, but to your favor, you find none— and maybe you ignored the small moment where Steve shifted, but between the overwhelming feeling of Eddie’s breath on your neck and the toe-curling sensations he’s bringing between your thighs, you can’t seem to care anymore.

“I’m close,” you rush through a whispered breath, hips tilting up to meet his skilled actions. “Yeah?” He nips at your ear, and you whimper, eyes shutting. “You gonna cum on my fingers? In front of our friends, honey? You’re dirtier than I thought,” He teasingly growls the last part, licking behind your ear before sucking the tip between his lips. You pant his name, this time loud enough to cause Eddie’s hand to slap over your mouth.

“As badly as I wanna hear those pretty moans of yours, sweetheart, you need to be a little more quiet,” He whispers. You nod as best as you can, drool smearing over Eddie’s palm as you roll your hips against his palm as quietly as you can.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie encourages, calloused fingers digging into your cheeks, “Want you to cum all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are.”

Your legs quiver at that, eyes rolling back as you begin to teeter over the edge. “Gonna take you upstairs after this so I can fuck you real good. Split you open nice and wide on my cock; you want that?” He hums, slinking his hand down to squeeze at your jaw and turn your head to where his lips catch yours as he speaks. You nod desperately and pathetically, and Eddie smiles, licking across your lips once before your eyes squeeze shut, and the dam finally breaks.

Eddie presses his lips against yours to silence your noises, which go unheard with the help of the movie playing. Eddie can feel you squeezing and pulsing around his fingers, and his cock jumps at the thought of what’s to come after he drags you out of this fucking basement.

Eddie kisses you throughout your climax, fingers gently guiding you through the hurricane of pleasure until you push him away with a whisper, “S’too much.”

Eddie lets you have it, removing his fingers from you with a lewd squelch that reaches his ears, pulling his hand out to hold it up in front of you. His fingers glisten under the TV light with your slick coating his knuckles, some dripping down onto his rings. You watch with lust-hooded eyes as he brings the soaked digits to his lips, making a show of licking up the length of them and swallowing every drop. Your cunt throbs, and you shift as his eyes meet yours.

And you don’t have to say anything because you already know, and before you know it, you’re dragging Eddie up the basement stairs with a racing heart and an aching center.

But what neither of you knows is Steve has been awake the entire time.

#HIIIII #IM ALIVE #FEELING SPOOKY AND SLUTTY #eddie munson x reader #drabble #eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you

[lovebugism]

i have a lot of nightmares and shake a lot when nervous. could u maybe write something abt a reader that goes through similar issues, and eddie comforts them and tries to make them feel safe? u can do whatever u like with this, i just need some fluff! :]

as someone who also has frequent nightmares, this was very self-indulgent heheh i hope you like it :D — eddie calms you down when you have a bad dream (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)

Eddie didn’t know he loved you until now. Like, right now.

He’d always had an inkling, at the very least, but he didn’t know for sure until he got you into his bed — bare-faced and swallowed whole in an oversized t-shirt older than you are. You share a single pillow with him despite having your own, leaving your noses mere inches apart. His tired eyes go a bit cross-eyed when he looks at you.

Despite his heavy head and heavier eyelids, he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. He doesn’t want to stop talking to you, either. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at all ‘cause he’s scared he’ll miss you too much. 

And that’s when he realizes that he’s head over heels, completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.

“You asleep yet?” he whispers into the dark bedroom, lit only by the streams of silver moonlight slipping through the curtains.

You shake your head against the pillow you share with him. “No,” you mumble — voice thick with exhaustion, eyes fluttered shut.

“Good,” Eddie replies, shifting on the mattress until he melts further into it. Your cold feet entwine with his warmer ones. He exhales a contented sigh through his nose. “Me neither…”

You can’t be entirely sure who dozed off first, but you know for certain you wake up before he does. 

3:47 A.M. blinks at you in bright red numbers on the nightstand. The witching hour greets you along with a rapidly beating heart, thrumming hard against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape from its confines.

The nightmare was a vivid one when it painted the backs of your eyelids, but you can’t really remember it now. You think that might be worse. Now you don’t know why you’re so scared — you just know that you are.

Fear, that’s all you can think about now, as your body trembles with a heavy, ice-cold feeling. Fear. Panic. Dread. 

The nightmare fades. Eddie’s body, warm and comforting next to yours, becomes a much more tangible thing. But you just can’t shake the feeling it left behind. The bad dream clings to you like smoke and swallows you whole before you can blink.

You shake with the longing to hold the boy beside you. If only you could clutch onto Eddie like a life vest, or a life-sized teddy bear, maybe then you could soothe your racing heart. But you know you don’t want to wake him, just like you know you don’t want him to see you like this — so torn up over a stupid bad dream.

You sit on the edge of the mattress and try to calm yourself down. The attempt is futile. You end up with a tight chest, a pounding heart, and two cheeks damp with fat tears. 

After no longer than five minutes of trying to stave off a panic attack by yourself, do you notice the bed shifting behind you. A wide palm smooths over your trembling shoulders a second later.

Eddie squints at your shivering silhouette, trying to see you better through the darkness and bleary haze of sleep. He finds you slouched over and clawing at your chest like something’s wrong. Your choked-back sobs and quiet sniffles aren’t any less concerning.

“You okay?” the boy slurs as he sits up behind you.

“‘M sorry,” you blurt, voice wet with emotion. You don’t know exactly what you’re apologizing for. You just feel like you should. Through hitched breaths, you manage out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his wild head in response. The mattress squeaks under his weight as he shifts closer to you. “It’s okay. I woke up on my own,” he tells you, even though that’s not exactly the truth. “What happened, huh? Are you okay?”

You sniffle and try to respond through feeble gulps of air. “It was just a bad dream. I’m okay—” you blubber through tears, breath catching halfway through.

With his palm pressed to your spine, Eddie can feel each of your rattling breaths as you fight to drag them in. It makes his own chest ache. Your panic is his own.

“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” he urges gently as he slips in beside you. With one hand over your trembling shoulder, he slides his other over your heart. The delicate organ patters with an inhuman vigor against his palm. 

“Gotta calm down, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple before pressing a kiss there. “‘Fore you heart explodes on me. Breathe, babe. You’re okay.”

Your swelling throat tightens. “I don’t feel good,” you confess through tiny whimpers, ‘cause you don’t know how else to tell him it feels like you’re dying. You put a cold, trembling hand over one of Eddie’s — the one gently cradling your heart — and fight to stay grounded.

The boy’s brows pinch with concern. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

You think for a moment. Then shake your head.

Eddie rubs a hand up and down the length of your back. “You’re doing good, babe. Just keep breathing for me. That’s it.”

He pulls you closer, embracing you despite the awkward angle. Your shoulder presses into his chest as your head nestles between his jaw and shoulder. You rest there until it no longer feels like you’re fighting for each breath. Until your ragged sobs turn into mousy sniffles.

The first thing you think to do after you’ve calmed is apologize.

“‘M sorry,” you murmur, thick with leftover emotion.

You feel his head shake against you, untamed curls tickling your skin. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

You snivel. “I feel like such a baby…”

“Everyone has bad dreams, babe. That’s life,” Eddie tells you with a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve slept on the couch after having one just so I could be closer to Wayne. Like, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t,” you argue with a scrunched nose, cracking a small (but no less sincere) grin.

Eddie smiles at your smiling. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand. “Wanna talk about it?” he offers, watching as you visibly ponder the question. You shake your head in response. He nods in understanding. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

You shake your head again, much less hesitant this time. You’re too scared to shut your eyes for longer than a blink now — lest the nightmare threaten to plague your mind again.

“Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make us some hot cocoa?” Eddie offers then.

You nod slowly, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth to hide the smile pulling there. You can’t help but beam, though, when he smacks a kiss to the warm apple of your cheek.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he urges as he rises from the bed, pulling you gently with him. He guides you out of his bedroom with a warm hand cradling your smaller one. The quiet trailer fills with the sounds of creaking floorboards, bare feet shuffling against carpet, and Eddie’s tender voice.

“I’ll even pick out marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box to put in your cocoa—” he says before a yawn cuts him off. “—‘Cause that’s how much I love you.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

[flowercrowngods]

Steve startles awake, disoriented and filled with a slight bout of panic — as always when he takes a nap that turns into five hours of deep sleep and catapults him right into the next dimension for a while there.

Heart racing, he blinks his dark bedroom into existence, and it takes him a while to realise where he is and what woke him up.

And then the landline phone on his nightstand rings again, and he exhales deeply before reaching for it with clumsy, sluggish movements.

“‘Ello?”

“Steve,” comes Eddie’s sing-song voice from the other end, washing over Steve in a soothing way that leaves him falling back into the pillows. He clutches the phone to his ear as he closes his eyes, the smile already forming at how happy Eddie sounds. He rarely sings Steve’s name like that. He should do it more often.

“Hi there.” His voice sounds like shit. Like he just took a — Jesus Christ, has it really been four hours? Well. He sounds exactly like someone who took a four-hour nap after a shit day at work would sound like.

There’s fumbling on the other end, but it stops suddenly. “Did I wake you? Shit man, I thought it was past nap time.”

“I don’t have nap time,” Steve grumbles, actually pouting at Eddie’s words and realising only a second too late how ridiculous he sounds.

“Sure, man, whatever you say. We all know you’re actually just a life-sized toddler.”

Steve sputters, sitting up against his headboard as he gradually wakes up. “Hey! Also, I don’t think you actually understand what life-sized means.”

“Yes, I do.”

Steve shakes his head at this ridiculous, ridiculous man. “What exactly do you think a non-life-sized toddler looks like, Eduardissimo?”

“Like Dustin.”

The answer is so quick and deadpan, Steve cannot contain the laugh that bursts out of him, waking him up quicker and gentler than anything else in the world could have, and he revels in the sound of Eddie joining him. He must look so smug right now, and so damn proud of himself. Steve wants to see him. Wants to kiss that smile right from his lips and replace it with something a lot more genuine.

“You’re an asshole,” he says instead, pulling his blanket further around him as he lifts his knees to sit more comfortably.

Eddie hums, still teasing somehow with just that noise, and Steve just can’t stop smiling. “You like me so much, Harrington.”

“Hmm,” he mirrors Eddie’s hum, but even he can hear the smile on his face. “Jury’s still out on that one, actually.”

“Any tendencies yet on the verdict?”

“Nope, they can’t decide.”

Eddie snorts at that, and Steve has no idea how that can sound so sweet. But it does. He buries his smile in his knees for a bit, the blanket hot around his burning cheeks. He’s hopeless.

“Well, let me know as soon as they do, yeah?”

“Will do,” he laughs, ruining all his attempts to sound solemn. “So what’s up? Why’d you call?”

“Oh!” And suddenly it’s like a switch has been flipped and Eddie doesn’t sound teasing and smug anymore, but instead just fucking giddy! “I have a bed now!”

Steve smiles at it. At that voice, that tone, that infectious emotion. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” More fumbling on the other end, and Steve can only imagine that Eddie is rolling around in his newly acquired bed.

Who’s the life-sized toddler now, hm?

“No more sleeping on the floor for this Munson boy, nuh-uh, my good sir! We are in possession of a bed now. A wooden bed, no fancy headboard or anything, just…”

“Just a bed,” Steve says, feeling like he’s about to burst into a million little particles of fondness and affection and the never-ending need to kiss Eddie. To hold him. To touch him in any way he can. “That’s great, Edsie.”

“It is, Stevesie.”

“Man, I hate you so much,” Steve squints at the ceiling and laughs, actually kicking his feet, the minute breeze providing a little relief for the heat in his face.

And Eddie has no business to sound so smug when he says, “Yeah, you do.”

A pause then, and it feels loaded even through the phone. Steve clutches it closer to his face, hoping stupidly that Eddie can feel it.

“You should come hate me in my new bed.”

Steve’s breath hitches, and his brain shuts off for a hot second there. Before he can overthink this, he decides to just… play along. And listen to what his heart has been telling him for months now.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, breathless still, but his whole body tingles with just these two words. With the possibility they bring. The offer that they are. The question. The everything that’s stored in them.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he sounds just as breathless. “I mean, if— If you want to?”

“I do.” Steve swallows. “Right, uh— Right now?”

“Whenever.” And it sounds more like an As soon as possible.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, scrambling out of bed as quickly as possible, pulling off his shirt with the phone still pressed to his ear, letting out an embarrassing noise as it gets tangled in a mess of cord and fabric. He scrambles to free it, almost dropping it in the process. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

“To come look at my new bed?”

“Sure.”

On the other end, Eddie laughs again, but he still sounds just as breathless as Steve does. Just as excited. As fragile. Just as many fucking things.

“Alright,” Eddie murmurs, though Steve can still hear the smile. “I’ll see you then.”

And then he hangs up before either of them can get lost in their own heads about this sudden certainty of change. Steve is grateful for the steady noise of the dial tone reminding him that this is happening. But that nothing has to happen.

It’s a nice bed, he finds hours later, fingers combing through Eddie’s hair who’s cuddling him half asleep. It’s the best fucking bed he’s ever seen, if only because it led to this.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 (lmk if you want on or off)

#listen i have a bed now. assembled it yesterday (actually my brother did i just stood there and looked cute) #and i’m so happy and schmoopy (@myself for myself with myself by myself) about it #steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #dio’s steddie ramblings #look yet more fluff from me like wow who dis??? #dio words #i feel so anxious about the permanent tag list like do yall even wanna see silly little things like this 😭😭🙏

[munsonsprincess11111]

It wasn't even a secret...

Eddie munson x reader

Summary: you and Eddie are married even have a new born. But thr younger hellfire members don't know?

Dustin Henderson walks into the munson trailer and hears loud music coming from Eddie's room. He approaches the room and through the crack of the door and sees a manicured hand grabbing at Eddie's bedside table only to see Eddie's not ringed hand grab it and pull it out of sight.

That's all he saw, but he got the point and left the trailer and sat in Eddie's van, which he never locked until he saw the lady exit.

But what Dustin didn't see was your wedding ring on top of Eddie's on the bedside table.

-

Months later Dustin was washing his hands in the munson bathroom when he threw the paper towel in the trash he saw a pregnancy test. It was positive. Dustin didn't mention it to Eddie or anyone thinking it was probably private.

What Dustin didn't see was how Eddie hugged you when the test came back positive as you both cried happy tears and kissed sweetly.

-

Months later Dustin and Mike approach the hellfire table and notice Eddie's not there. Weird they thought he wanted to graduate this year why would he be having time off.

"Where's Eddie?" Dustin asked setting his tray down. Gareth looks at Dustin and frowns. "What do you mean where's Eddie you know he isn't gonna be in for A few weeks." Gareth says confused.

Only then do Gareth, Doug and Jeff realise they genuinely do not know. They wasn't gonna be the ones to tell him so that's how they ended up at Eddie munson trailer skipping school.

Eddie was fast asleep an arm draped over you. He awoke suddenly to banging on the door cursing under his breath. He stands up and stretched kissing your head and peaking into the bassinet next to your side of the bed, only to see his week old daughter starring up at him with her wide brown eyes.

"Hey little lady." HE says picking her up making sure to support her head. He cradles her and heads to the door to let you sleep a bit longer. He walks into the kitchen and puts the kettle on to warm a bottle for his daughter haley. Then he walks to the front door expecting Wayne or someone.

Only to be met with a stunned Dustin and Mike. "Hello?" Eddie says confused. He let's them in as they stare at him in shock. "Whats going on guys?" Eddie asked slightly freaked out hy the look on the twos face.

"You have a baby?!" Dustin half yells.

"Dude shut the fuck up." Eddie says annoyed bouncing his daughter slightly so she doesn't cry from Dustins outburst.

"No I won't you have a baby and you didn't tell us what the fuck." Dustin half yells again.

Eddie looks between the boys with a look of confusion on his face. You walk out of your bedroom into the living room after hearing all the shouting.

"What's going on?" You ask crossing your arms over your chest. Both the teens and Eddie look at you. Your stood confused. Haley then cries and everyone looks at her.

Eddie walks over to you sliding her into your arms and she immediately stops crying as you bounce her and cradle her making soft shh noises. "Whose that's?" Mike askes Eddie's attention turning from you and haley to the two teens but you speak up. "His wife." You answer looking at the two boys

"You have a baby and a wife. How didn't we know that." Dustin says eyes wide.

"OK everyone stop, fuck me. Right. I thought you two knew but clearly you don't. This is my wife y/n who I've definitely told you about. The one I've been dating since I was like 15 and am now married to?" Eddie says waving his arms infant of you as you smile.

"OH we thought that was a cruel joke." Mike says scratching his head. Eddie looks at the boys in disbelief.

"Wow OK. This is y/n and my daughter haley who I'm gonna go with you also thought was a joke." Eddie says questionably getting nods from the boys.

"Y/n this is Dustin and Mike." Eddie says pointing at the boys rubbing his eyes.

"Hi nice to meet you?" You say still confused.

The boys says hello awkwardly.

"OK, now that's cleared up. Is that really why you came here." Eddie asks, slightly annoyed. The boys nod and explain that Gareth wouldn't tell them. You're starring at Eddie, who's clearly stressed and tired. Then, down to the little baby in your arms.

Eddie warms a baby bottle while the two teens talk to Eddie about the baby as you sit on the couch in the living room. He walks in handing you the warm bottle. "Can you feed her?" You ask quietly. But Eddie hears you.

"Yeh, yeh of course sweetheart." Eddie says sitting on the couch. You pass her to Eddie once he's sat along with her bottle kissing Eddie's cheek then haleys head before walking to your bedroom to get stuff for A shower.

"SO you like have a child." Dustin says watching Eddie feed his daughter the bottle.

"Yes and a wife." Eddie answers.

"And you've been married..." Mike says

"2 years been together for 5." Eddie says, setting the bottle by his feet, leaning back on the couch and laying the baby on his chest, gently patting her back.

"And the others knew." Dustin says as Eddie nods.

"How long are you off school?" Mike askes.

"I'm just going back to do my finals. I won't be there any other time." Eddie says as the tiny baby burps. The two nod.

Moments later you walk back in, wearing a pyjama vest and Eddie's sweats. Your stomach has shrunk since the birth of haley and it makes Eddie smile seeing you comfortable enough to wear the vest as when she was first born you wouldn't take off his hoodie.

Not that it mattered to Eddie he loved you every shape and form and you grew his baby in you. When you mentioned your insecurity to Eddie just before haley was born he comforted you and said, "either way your sexy no matter what n you've got me. If.. that helps? Probably not but you get my gist."

You sat next to Eddie and he handed you haley. "Common ill take you two home no point in going back to school." Eddie says. He too the teens to Dustin house and then came straight home.

He entered thr trailer and headed to your bedroom to see haley asleep on your shared bed and you sat up looking at her giving Eddie a smile when he entered the room. Eddie strips of everything but his boxers.

"Now give me a twirl." You says smiling at him from the bed.

He turns slowly as you clap quietly before laying on his side next to you. "SO those are two of your friends?" You say raising your brows and Eddie nods putting an arm over your waist.

Eddie looks at you then to his daughter and smiles. Taking your hand and kissing it. You lean down and kiss him on the lips.

"I love you." HE says as your foreheads touch.

"I love you too."

"I love you more."

"I love you most." You smirk kissing him again.

Yeah Eddie was a happy man. He may still be in school but he's got everything he wants Sat right on his bed. His beautiful wife and tiny daughter.

-

Months later he graduated walking off the stage hugging you nice and tight laying a sweet kiss on your lips. Wayne holding 3 month old haley who's arm where flapping for Eddie. He took her from Wayne kissing her nose as she open mouthed his cheek.

The stunned look on Jason's face to see Eddie munson holding a baby in one arm with his hair and his other arm around your waist as your hand was behind haleys head. Eddie smirked to himself kissing your head. Wayne shooting him a proud smile and nod. The others soon came running over. "Finally man thought you was gonna end up going to school with haley." Gareth says smirking at Eddie.

"Shut up Gareth." You says earning a laugh out of Eddie.

"Y/n I'm wounded." Gareth says shocked.

"You heard the lady shut up." Eddie says smirking.

Gareth rolls his eyes.

Everyone stands and talks. Eddie saying haley needs feeding so you guys have to go. In reality you had fed her before and Eddie just wanted to go home.

"I am so proud of you." You say kissing his cheek.

"Yeah? Do I get a special treat for how proud you are." Eddie smirks.

"Maybe... you'll see when haleys in bed." You say smirking at him running a hand through haleys curls.

Yeah Eddie was right. 86 was definitely his year.

#eddie m #eddie munson thoughts #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie smut #eddie x reader #eddie x you #rockstar eddie munson #eddie my beloved #eddie stranger things #dustin henderson #mike wheeler

[steddieas-shegoes]

i'm onto you

It may be Halloween, but it's also...@simplebtromance's birthday!!! You've been here with me pretty much since the beginning, and you deserve so much more than this ficlet, but I hope you love this anyway! We've had many a discussion about queer Wayne, so this is just a little something for you to sip on as a birthday treat 💖

rated t | 1,605 words check ao3 for more tags

Wayne liked to think he couldn’t be rattled, not since Eddie “died” and showed up on his doorstep being held up by Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson looking like he hadn’t slept in a week and hadn’t showered for even longer.

But walking into his trailer to see Steve Harrington wrapped up in Eddie’s arms on his couch did startle him a bit.

It’s not like Steve was a stranger, not since he’d explained some of what happened to Eddie with certain looks that told him he wasn’t able to say more, please don’t ask, please accept what I’m telling you as the full truth and nothing but the truth. But he’d only been over when the kids were over, hanging back and watching them have fun with Eddie with a soft smile on his face.

Wayne noticed, he always noticed. But he didn’t really think much of it until now.

Steve was lying on top of Eddie, head on his chest and hand gripping his shirt like a lifeline. His face was relaxed, though, lips parted as he breathed shallowly. Eddie’s arms were wrapped around his back, hands not quite gripping, but clearly holding him tight.

It could be nothing.

It could just be that both of these boys had seen things that most wouldn’t understand and found solace in each other.

It could be that they didn’t mean to fall asleep like this.

It could be that they were exploring something together.

Wayne smiled to himself when Steve’s hand loosened, falling away from Eddie’s shirt. Eddie’s arms tightened briefly, his head turning so that his face buried more into Steve’s hair.

He walked towards his bedroom with the same fond smile on his face.

– – – – – –

It wasn’t the first time Wayne was woken up by the sound of loud music playing, but it was definitely the first time that it was the sound of Blondie blasting through the speakers of Eddie’s boombox.

His alarm clock said that it was almost ten in the morning, so he couldn’t be too mad. Six hours of sleep was more than he got for years, and from the sounds of it, Steve was still here and probably making them breakfast.

He’d done that a lot when Eddie was healing, unable to do much other than walk to the bathroom when he needed to and eat in his bed. Wayne was grateful for it, for Steve.

When he walked into the kitchen, he froze.

Eddie was sitting on the counter, Steve standing between his legs.

Kissing.

He considered turning around and pretending he hadn’t seen it, figured they’d both come to him when they were ready to acknowledge whatever they were.

But when he heard a quiet moan, he had to let them know he was there.

“Mornin’ boys.”

They jumped apart quickly, Steve turning towards the pan on the stove full of bacon with an obvious flush covering the back of his neck.

Eddie jumped off of the counter and tried to hide Steve’s discomfort.

“Hey. Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you up,” Eddie started tugging on the ends of his hair, his nervous habit from childhood, even before his hair was this long.

“Music’s kinda loud. It’s okay though. Whatcha makin’?” He asked, pretending everything was normal, not pointing out that he’d just walked in on them making out in the kitchen.

“Bacon,” Steve’s shaking voice came from behind Eddie. “Fried eggs. Toast with peanut butter or jelly.”

“Sounds great,” Wayne said, walking to the coffee pot to grab a cup of coffee, smiling to himself when he realized that one of them had started a fresh pot not too long ago.

He snuck a glance at Steve, who looked like he was going to start crying any moment.

And that just didn’t sit right.

He didn’t want Steve to ever feel uncomfortable here, whether he was here as a friend to Eddie or more.

He set his mug back down without taking a sip and gently pushed Eddie aside to tug Steve into a hug.

Steve tensed in his arms for a moment, then relaxed, a shaky breath leaving him as Wayne rubbed his back.

“You’re allowed to be happy here, Steve. You don’t gotta tell me anything you don’t wanna, but you’re safe in this house. You and Ed both,” he said softly against the top of Steve’s head.

He was reminded of a similar discussion he’d had with Eddie when he was 14, when he’d been caught kissing an older boy when Wayne came home early from a shift at the plant. The boy ran, and Eddie had locked himself in his room for 15 minutes, furiously packing. When he opened the door to see Wayne leaning against the wall next to the door, unimpressed look on his face, he froze.

“Goin’ somewhere?” he’d asked him.

“You won’t want me to stay now, right?” Eddie had tried to sound confident, emotionless, but he was failing.

“Be a bit hypocritical of me to kick ya out for kissin’ a boy when I’ve got a boyfriend, wouldn’t it?”

Eddie unpacked, and they talked for a bit about Wayne’s boyfriend, Eddie being gay, and how he’d always be safe in Wayne’s house.

Steve had clearly never been given that kind of comfort, maybe hadn’t even had the chance to find that comfort in his own home. Wayne could give that to him.

“You don’t care that I’m, that we-” Steve started, almost immediately getting shushed by Wayne.

“Son, I’ve known Ed’s gay for years and if you think I wasn’t onto you the day you brought him to me half dead, I dunno what to tell ya.”

Eddie was standing to the side, watching quietly. Wayne didn’t need to see his face to know he was grateful.

“Sorry we kinda defiled the kitchen,” Steve finally said as he pulled away.

“Kissin’ ain’t defiling anything.”

Steve blushed again, wiped his eyes as he turned back to where the bacon was probably about to burn.

“No it’s not.”

Wayne paused as he thought about the phrasing of Steve’s response.

He looked over at Eddie, who was conveniently pouring his own cup of coffee. He didn’t even like coffee.

“My one and only rule is that you clean up after…whatever it is you’ve done to defile the shared space,” Wayne smirked. “I’d prefer it stays in the bedroom, though, kay?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed, not making eye contact.

“Got it,” Eddie replied.

Any leftover awkwardness disappeared when Wayne tried to reach directly into the still sizzling pan to grab a piece of bacon, only to be swatted away by Steve.

“You’ll burn yourself!” Steve shook his head. “Now I see where Eddie gets it.”

“Hey!” Eddie protested. “I do not reach into still cooking pans! I wait until the food is on a plate before I burn myself!”

“My apologies. You’re just an idiot later,” Steve rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his tone gave away how much he cared about Eddie.

– – – – – –

Wayne started seeing Steve more often, usually wrapped in Eddie’s arms or holding his hand, or watching him play guitar.

He spent the night more often than not, and Wayne sometimes overheard his yelling when he had a nightmare.

Eddie explained to him that they’d gotten better, but he’d probably always have nights where the monsters made an appearance, and unfortunately, getting him out of the nightmare was pretty difficult.

If Wayne was awake already, he usually brought a cup of tea to Eddie’s room and gave them both a quick kiss on the head.

He also made them breakfast most mornings, liked cooking for them, experimenting with new recipes and finding interesting flavor combinations.

After a few months of this, Wayne suggested he look into culinary school.

“There’s a place in Indy, I know one of the chefs there. He’d probably be able to help ya get started,” Wayne said around a bite of his peach pancakes with vanilla syrup.

“I dunno if I can do much besides breakfast and desserts,” Steve shrugged, looking down at his plate. “Plus, Indy’s too far to be driving back and forth every day. I still have to work.”

“Not if you live there. And you could probably work at a restaurant in the evenings.”

Eddie watched them both, unreadable expression on his face.

“Maybe.”

“You know, there’s a few bars there that I could play at. A record shop that probably would hire me,” Eddie chipped in casually, taking a bite of his pancake.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. I mean, we’d need to find somewhere cheap, but we could swing it. I’ve got some money still from the government.”

“Yeah, but-”

Eddie’s fork clinked against his plate when he set it down.

“Stevie. Do you want to try?”

Wayne watched them watch each other, small smile forming as he started to understand their silent conversation.

“Only if it’s with you, baby,” Steve finally said.

“Then we’ll go this weekend to check it out.”

– – – – – – – –

Wayne got to watch them choose each other.

He watched them choose a life outside of Hawkins.

He watched them choose a future where they could have a happiness he could only dream of.

They came to visit often, and invited Wayne to their apartment almost as often.

They even brought him to one of their favorite bars, known for being a safe place for queer people, where he struck up a conversation with one of the bartenders, Larry.

And then he got to choose a life outside of Hawkins too.

One that led to more happiness than he could have pictured for himself.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #wayne munson #birthday fic #getting together

[ynbabe]

Come Through ୨୧ George Russell x Rockstar! Reader

Is rockstar the right word? idk I just know bro is crazy bts, the white boy with Excel persona is fooling NO ONE Georgie boy. Also, Reader has vibes of the Weekend song, hence the fic name.

Lando thinks it's all a joke. He hadn't been crying, screaming and manifesting for the past three years only for his celebrity crush to be dating someone else, another driver that too.

"WHO-" He yells as he storms into Max's room, where most of the drivers had collected, they hadn't decided but they all just gravitated towards the blonde with sweet blue eyes who listened to the vent and gave the best hugs, "AFTER ALL WE WENT THROUGH- WHO IS DATING Y/N L/N?"

All eyes were on him, Max lying on his bed, Charles, Carlos and Daniel with him. Lance, Esteban and Pierre were on the sofa, playing FIFA on Max's PS5, George and Alex were sharing the smaller two-seater, Zhou and Yuki were passing a tennis ball to each other and Logan and Oscar were sleeping, cuddling close on the floor surrounded by pillows, but were now woken up by Landos yelling.

"Lando stop screaming," Charles yelled back.

"No," he simply replied and made his way to the bed where he jumped on top of Carlos and Daniel, the older of whom groaned and grumbled something about his back, but Lando didn't care, he pushed his phone in Max's face, blurring his face in Carlos's neck.

xoxof1

xoxof1 Y/n l/n an infamous British rockstar most famous for her multiple dating scandals and most recently an arrest is rumoured to date a F1 driver.

username MOTHER WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE 😭😭😭

username girl... knowing her it's like Lewis or someone

username fr like hasn't she 'dated' a dozen older guys not to mention her record with women username girl why are you hating like a man, she's iconic and we all know it

username just lost my wife to a vroom-vroom man no one talk to me

Max began laughing, looking up from the post to the distraught Lando currently getting his hair played with by Carlos.

"Mate, I don't think you're her type," he threw the phone back to the whining boy.

"Yeah? And how would you know? I look exactly like Edward!" He pointed to the bassist of the band you were a part of.

"Kelly loves her music..." he muttered, looking away much to the younger man's amusement.

"HAH!" He shrieked, "SHE'S NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND ANYMORE!!" He laughed to which Carlos pushed his head down, eliciting an 'oomph'.

"I've been told many times," Max muttered to himself and turned to Lando to hear the rest of his rant, though loud and fast, the boy was the best source of entertainment they had.

"Max, look at her band, she's so coooool," he groaned, passing the phone to him again.

Cupidd

Cupidd THANK YOU LA!! We'll be back with 'young, numb and brunette' after this short break!!

y/nl/n My old man said I had to be in Shangai this weekend 🫡 but trust- I will be back to piss y'all off with Eddie asap

edwrdnotcllen MY WIFE HAS LEFT ME FOR A TWINK HELP y/nl/n shut up Eddie your the twinkiest twink I know username I love that they have had multiple partners in the past yet still always call each other husband and wife username I pity her boyfriend 😭 imagine having to compete with a man who looks like Edward

username SHES GOING TO A RACE????

username nooooo pls my parents

username girl they have never dated, both y/n and Edward have had multiple partners and relationships with men and women in the past. Leave them alone, they're adults username FOUND Y/N'S BFS ALT GUYS!!!

"She's coming to China?" Max asked no one in particular but Lando took it as an invitation to freak out.

"Bro please, please, please let me win this one, I'll owe you forever, bro please," Lando tried his puppy eyes on Max but Max jumped out of bed calling his girlfriend, walking out the room trying his best to convince the older woman to not attend the race.

"I have so much work to do," Lando gasped and followed Max out the room.

The race was one to remember, with Max winning but George a close second and Lando barely a tenth away on the third.

He hadn't been able to find the girl anywhere but at least he got points for the team. He went to the McLaren team party and forgot about the other celebration taking place.

xoxof1

xoxof1 The unexpected couple have been revealed in a series of leaked pictures of the private f1 party after the driver George Russell had a podium finish for his Shangai race.

username Mr.Russell I was unaware of your rizz, forgive me sir.

username WHITE MAN DOES IT IN ONE DAY 😭😭😭

landonorris When i catch you george when I catch you

username LANDO??? username he's one of ussssss username bbg you get me 😮‍💨 in ways no man ever has

George woke up with the worst headache he ever had in his life, he was sure he'd never get over this hangover but then he saw y/n next to him, hair tussled wearing the white shirt he was wearing last night.

"Y/n, darling, wake up," he pressed a kiss on her shoulder.

"mmhm," the woman groaned, turning to the blonde next to her and kissing him, the taste of vodka still fresh in her mouth.

She melted into his touch as he deepened the kiss, " Mornin' G," she whispered to him, voice hoarse from the night before.

He smiled in return, placing one last kiss on the corner of her lips. She searched around for her phone, finding it fallen amongst their haphazardly discarded clothes and opened Instagram to thousands of notifications.

She was used to it by now, it was quite fun.

y/nl/n

y/nl/n If I speak... @/georgerussell

edwrdnotcllen @/yn/ln you are so welcome for not squealing as soon as I knew

y/nl/n girl you asked me if you could kiss him after??? edwrdnotcllen And I still am?? username WHAT-

username I just know Lando is fuming rn

username y'all need a third? a dog? a maid?

username it should be me instead of him!!!

username god I see what you've done for others 😭

"Darling, did you post-" George had just begun but his room was rudely broken into, running in he saw a hyper papaya-coloured blur followed by a very hungover Max Verstappen.

Lando gasped looking at the woman next to George, screeching at an inhuman pitch, "HOW'D THIS PIECE OF VANILLA FRAPPUCCINO WOO HER??!?!?" He pointed at Y/n, making the woman laugh.

George offended, scoffed at the boy, "Well if you must know, I met her at Nando's party-" he was cut off once again, this time by the Dutch man.

"That makes sense actually," he said and immediately grabbed Lando by the collar and dragged him out, "Sorry guys!" he yelled after himself.

"I like your friends," Y/n said smirking making the taller man blush and push the woman slightly, before collapsing back into bed, making a silent promise of never trying to out-drink the woman again.

#f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #george russell x reader #george russell #george russell imagine #george russell x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #max verstappen x reader #george russel x reader

[bimbobaggins69]

Fooled round & fell in love

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: you’re in love with your best friend but your best friend thinks love is for losers, choosing to sleep around rather than settle down. You’ve had enough and you’re ready to move on from your feelings, luckily you find someone who might make that possible but does Eddie really hate love as much as he leads on?

warnings: fuck boy eddie, afab reader, cursing, eventual smut, might drag this friends to lovers thing out as much as I can or maybe reader will end up with Randy, who knows?

A/N: this is my first fic ever so be nice 🥹👉🏻👈🏻please reblog and comment it would mean everything to me. Also, got the idea of Randy’s name from randy rhoads 🖤

Thank you @myobmaya for reading this and giving me tips before posting.

“Oh my god! Fuck, I’m so sorry!” You screeched out over the loud music playing in your best friends van.

You slammed the door, still trying to take in what you had just seen, tears forming in your eyes and that familiar feeling of jealousy twisting at your insides. You decide to not torture yourself any longer and instead of going back in to the seedy bar with the rest of your friends you start your long stride home, unlucky for you, your walk is accompanied by racing thoughts of your best friend on top of some groupie. You’re not stupid, you know Eddie is a slut, he all but brags to you about his recent conquests, but you’ve never been faced with it like this, and even though you’re hopelessly in love with him, you can’t help but feel guilty for your feelings.

You and Eddie have been best friends since middle school when he was awkward and had that damn buzz cut. You had fallen in love with him sophomore year, you two had been almost inseparable but at that time he was also gaining a bit of a reputation as a “man whore” if you will

he enjoyed sleeping with different girls but always insisted love and relationships just weren’t for him, so of course you would do everything you could to hide your feelings, last thing you would want to do is fuck up your friendship and you’ve made yourself believe having Eddie in your life in any form is enough, but you’re not so sure about that anymore.

After making your way home from the hideout you decide you need a shower and some sleep, and to just forget about all this bullshit that won’t stop swirling around in your head. But of course not even a hot shower can help you cleanse your mind of that picture. You tell yourself you have no right to be jealous or angry, you’re not his girlfriend and never will be, but it still hurts.

After your shower you throw on some pajamas, brush your hair, put your Rainbow tape in your Walkman and blast stargazer until you drifted off to sleep.

It’s been two days since you talked to Eddie which wasn’t completely out of the norm being that you’ve graduated and it’s summer you don’t see him regularly like you’re use to but this is the longest you’ve gone without hearing his voice as you usually talk to him nightly on the phone. He’s called a few times but you had your mom tell him you weren’t home. You just can’t deal with any of it right now and you know if you see him you’ll let your feelings for him slip and mess up everything. So for now you’re sitting in bed listening to music, all you wanna do at the moment is get high and forget these feelings you can’t seem to shake but you usually get your weed from Eddie and that’s just not an option at the moment, as you physically shake that idea from your head, you remember someone else that can help supply you with what you need.

As you walk up to the front door of the familiar house you’ve come to many times as Eddie re-upped on his supply.

You take a deep breathe before you knock, a little uncomfortable given the fact that every time you did come with Eddie, Rick insisted on being flirty and a little handsy with you, but you were desperate for something to just ease your mind and relax you.

After three tentative knocks the door swings open.

“Y/n?” “Long time no see, what can I do for you?”

He looks around behind you, you think he’s probably looking for Eddie since you’ve never come here alone but you don’t give it a second thought.

You walk in and notice a couple guys sitting at the dining room table probably doing a quick deal too, you recognize them from school but they had long graduated before you. One of them catches your eye, you’ve definitely seen him around, he’s got long blonde curly hair, an Angel Witch band tee on, some dark blue jeans and high top adidas. Of course you’re fawning over another metal head “what the fuck is wrong with me?” You think to yourself. But before you give it anymore thought the man turns to you and says

“hey, aren’t you Eddie’s girl?”

You physically cringe at that.

“Um, n-no I’m not, w-we’re just friends”

“Really fucking smooth!” You internally scream at yourself.

He flashes you the most beautiful smile that makes your stomach flutter

“Oh! Good, good”

You’re kind of confused with that because, why is that good? But you don’t question it.

After Rick hands you your dime bag and you hand him the money you give a quick “thanks” as you turn around and walk out the door shutting it and walking down the drive way

when you get halfway down, you hear the door open and someone call your name.

“Hey, Y/n!”

You turn around to see that same beautiful smile that makes his eyes slant a bit, you swear this man could be Robert Plant and Dave mustaine’s love child “god was he gorgeous” you thought.

You raise your eyebrows as they disappear behind your bangs with a small wave and a side smile, could you be anymore awkward?

He puts his hand out and says “I’m Randy”

You already knew his name as he was three grades above you at Hawkins, but he’s definitely gotten a lot hotter after high school.

You smile and say “yeah we went to Hawkins together, but you were a senior when I was a freshman.”

He nods “yeah, yeah I know, just wasn’t sure if you did. So anyways, I was wondering if I could get your number and maybe we could hang out sometime?”

You return the wide smile as you try your best to stay calm and collected “y-yeah, that would be cool, but I don’t have a pen.” You say with slight disappointment

“Oh shit, um I think I have one in my car” He says as he turns around heading to the red Pontiac firebird, your jaw drops for a second because holy shit, his car is almost as sexy as him!

He turns around shaking the pen in his hand, like he’s just won some kind of prize, that makes you chuckle a bit.

He hands you the pen and his arm for you to scribble your number on, when you’re finished you give him a flirty little smirk as you say “I’ll talk to you later”

You turn around to start your way back home, but as you start he stops you again.

“Did you walk here?”

You nod

“Yeah, but it’s no big deal, I don’t live too far.”

He looks you up and down and then shakes his head “Get in, I’ll give you a ride.”

“You really don’t have to” you spit out

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to” he says while nodding his head over to his car silently telling you to get in.

You decide the best way to get over Eddie is by spending time with someone new, okay maybe not the most logical idea but anything’s better than being alone with your thoughts at the moment

and Randy seemed sweet and charming, possibly the perfect enough candidate to help you move on.

It’s been two weeks and you’ve successfully avoided Eddie Munson at all costs. He’s called, he’s dropped by your house and you’ve had your mom consistently tell him you just haven’t been home much lately. Half of that is true.

You’ve been on three dates with Randy so far, and you really hit it off, he’s really sweet, and super funny but that little nagging in your brain keeps telling you “he’s not Eddie!” and “he’ll never be Eddie!” You can’t help it you’ve been in love with him for 3 and half years now, and you’re only human

but you think you can learn to fall for Randy and maybe even eventually those feelings will over shadow the ones you have for Eddie

only time will tell, but for now you just want to have fun.

So here you are getting ready for a party Randy had invited you to, it was a mutual friend of Randy and Ricks so you knew there was a strong possibility Eddie would also be there as he never turned down an opportunity to get some fast cash.

You decided you wanted to look hot, hotter than hot! So you threw on something you never had the balls to leave the house in, a long bell sleeved shirt that tied in the front exposing lots of skin, you paired it with a black pleated skirt and some black thigh high socks and some chunky ankle boots. You did your makeup natural but with some winged liner and lashes, you took your hair out of the curlers and shook your head upside down a couple times trying to elicit the most amount of body before spraying it with hairspray and finally spritzing yourself with some perfume.

You never went out of your way to get yourself this ready, but you loved it, made you feel kind of empowered in a way.

By the time you were fully finished getting ready you heard a knock at the door and since no one was home you rushed downstairs to answer it, but it was not who you were expecting.

“Y/N?!” Eddie said while looking you up and down with an unreadable expression on his face

“Eddie? What are you doing here?”

You asked wide eyed and with a slight annoyed edge to your voice

“You’ve been avoiding me!”

He says while pushing his way inside your house

“I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve been busy”

A little lie, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Busy doing what?” He looks you up and down again

“I’ve been seeing someone, and we’ve been hanging out a lot recently, he’s actually on his way here right now, so you should probably go”

Eddie looks like a kicked puppy for a quick second but tries to fight it off before you can see by putting on a fake smile

“Oh yeah? Who’s the lucky guy?”

As soon as those words leave his mouth you hear a car pull up in your driveway, you know it’s Randy and you really wanted to avoid this whole interaction for a little bit longer, but it was no use now.

You ignore Eddie and decide to just let him see who it is for himself. Eddie knew who Randy was, they were acquaintance’s at best, but never enough to call each other friends, plus Randy was older and cooler than Eddie, or atleast that’s how Eddie felt.

So when he finally knocked on the door and you answered it, he stood there with flowers in hand looking at you all bug eyed, taking you all in with his mouth hanging open. Eddie let out a low scoff, almost low enough for you not to catch but you did.

If you would’ve let yourself you would’ve overthought that scoff until your head hurt

Because what the hell is his problem? he has no reason to feel any type of way about anyone you choose to talk to, after you’ve sat back and heard him talk about girl after girl, he had no right to say anything about Randy!

“Hey Eddie, what’s up?” Randy says

Eddie just tilts his head up slightly to give him a silent “what’s up” and then turns his attention back on you

But you turn around taking the flowers out of Randy’s hand and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“These are beautiful, babe! Thank you”

Eddie visibly cringes at the pet name.

You didn’t see it but Randy definitely did, so just to rile him up a bit more Randy tells you

“You look fucking incredible, baby! Maybe we should just skip the party and go back to my place?”

He says with a joking edge to his voice. You and Randy have gone to second base but have not gone all the way yet and you were maybe hoping tonight would be the night

You really just wanted to get over Eddie and you thought by sleeping with Randy you’d have a better chance, so you and him have talked about it and even had phone sex a couple nights ago, so what he said wasn’t completely out of left field but it made you feel weird him saying it in front of Eddie, even though you literally walked in on Eddie and some girl fucking a couple weeks ago.

God you’ve done everything you can to get that image out of your head, just for it to be brought right back

“But I’m really excited for the party!” You say with your best doe eyes.

“Oh you guys are going to Eric’s party?” Eddie interrupts while standing there looking rather awkward

“Yeah we are, are you?” You ask

“Um, yeah I was gunna stop buy for an hour or so just to sell, make some quick cash, ya know?”

Eddie says while scratching the back of his neck

You nod.

“Well I guess we’ll see you there” Randy says trying to end the weird tension.

Eddie looks at you one last time with the same expression as earlier, almost like longing mixed with a hint of jealousy. But you’re a chronic over thinker and professional self doubter so that’s probably not it at all.

part 2

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you

[steddiealltheway]

Steve wakes up and feels like his head is being split into two. The light coming from his blinds is too bright, his mouth is dry as hell and tastes like shit, and why is his body so sore?

Yeah, fuck, he needs to stop drinking.

He groans and turns only to find that he's not alone in his bed. Oh, and he's definitely naked. Shit.

He tries to rack his brain last night for any type of memory as he checks the girl out. She's facing away from him and her wild curly hair is a mess scattered all over her face and Steve's pillow. But he gets distracted because the stranger has kicked off the blanket sometime in the middle of the night and well... she has a really nice ass.

Steve tears his eyes away. Maybe they didn't sleep together, and, if so, it is entirely not okay for him to stare.

...but it's a really nice ass... Plus, come on, they're both naked in his bed so...

A faint memory of the day before pops up. He remembers Robin, Nancy, and Eddie coming over at some point because they had planned to hang out earlier that day... right?

They definitely got into the pool at some point. At least, he and Eddie did if he remembers correctly, but that doesn't explain why this random stranger is in his bed and-

Wait... did he... did he kiss Eddie? Oh fuc-

The so-called stranger grunts in their sleep, and Steve's eyes snap to them. Yeah, he knows that curly mane and he has no idea how he didn't recognize it in the first place, and oh my god he was checking out Eddie Munson's ass. Is checking out his ass. Fuck, he needs to stop staring at his ass!

Steve does the only logical thing and shoves the blanket back over the boy and turns away. Okay, so all he has to do is put on some clothes, tiptoe the hell out of there, and pretend like nothing happened.

Because nothing happened... Right?

Right. Steve wakes up naked next to one of his best friends who is also naked and has been the subject of some of Steve's late-night thoughts for a while now and-

"Fuck," Eddie groans next to him and turns to lie on his back and brush the hair out of his face. "Where the fuck..." he trails off as he looks around squinting and blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

Well, there goes Steve's plan of running out of there and pretending nothing happened. He watches as Eddie sits up, lifts the blankets to peek under them, and then puts them back down. "Hey Steve?"

"Yes Eddie?" Steve asks as he turns his head to stare at the ceiling.

"I'm naked," is all that Eddie says, no joking tone just kind of listing the facts.

Steve nods and replies, "Mhm."

"You're naked."

"Yep," Steve says and cringes before slowly sitting up. His back protests, and, Christ, what happened last night?

Eddie nods his head with his eyes wide. "So, uhhh, do you remember what happened? If... anything happened?"

Steve squints and tries to think but comes up with nothing except... "I think I may have kissed you."

Eddie lets out a deep breath and nods again. "So, we may have kissed at some point and now we're both naked in your bed..."

For some reason, Steve decides to just accept the facts and goes on to say, "Yeah, and I don't know about you, but I'm really sore. So, I think we..."

"Yeah because I'm sore as hell too."

Steve puts his head in his hands and sighs, "This is not how I wanted this to happen."

There's a panicked chuckle to his right, "Yeah, man, if you just want to pretend nothing happened we can totally- wait." Eddie pauses and Steve can feel the bed shift. "What do you mean this isn't how you wanted this to happen."

Oh shit. Steve glances over at Eddie whose eyebrows are raised as he waits for Steve to answer. "Uh," Steve starts and clears his throat then runs a hand through his hair. Might as well come clean about this. "Okay, well since this already happened, let's just say anything we say can be completely like forgotten along with last night if we want that."

"Okay..." Eddie says and nervously fidgets with a thread on Steve's blanket.

"So, I think it's probably clear now but uh... This is definitely not the first time I thought of you in... this way. And it sucks because I would never want our first time to be forgettable or hell, not consensual. Oh, fuck." Steve runs his hands through his hair. Oh fuck drunk him, he's never drinking again. "Eddie I'm so sorry that I may have taken advantage of you and-"

"Fuck, I was scared I had somehow taken advantage of you. You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Eddie says in what sounds like one breath.

Steve's heart races. "Really?"

Eddie nods and then laughs, "Of course, the only way I would ever confess something like this was if I was drunk off my ass. I should've known drinking so much around you was a bad idea."

"Shit," Steve says and laughs. Honestly, it sucks that he has absolutely zero memory of the night before, but he's almost grateful to have been drunk enough to get his feelings across to Eddie... well... sort of. "Hey Eddie?"

"Mhm?"

Steve runs a hand through his hair and notices it feels worse than usual but he'll have to figure that out later. "After I shower, brush my teeth, make us breakfast, and start feeling human again... do you want to actually do something memorable?"

"Steve, are you asking me if we can do the deed again? Because I am more than happy," Eddie says with a wide smile.

Steve groans, "Oh, please don't call it that."

Eddie laughs and launches into multiple horrible euphemisms for having sex that Steve will never be able to unhear.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, Steve kisses Eddie sweetly and whispers against his lips that he has to call Robin and he'll be right back. Eddie tiredly just hums and burrows deeper into his pillow.

Steve wanders downstairs and laughs again at the line of clothes he and Eddie had at some point stripped off on the way to his bedroom from the night before. This is going to be an interesting call.

Steve dials Robin's number and is glad to hear it's her and not her mom. "Hey, Robin."

Robin groans, "Are you calling to apologize for what you and Eddie put us through last night?"

Oh, shit, what did they do in front of poor Robin and Nancy? Steve sits on his counter and frowns. "Actually, I was hoping that you would fill that part of the night in since neither of us remember."

There's a sigh on the other line before Robin launches into it, "Well, for some reason you two decided to see who could drink more which turn into the two of you wondering who could swim better drunk. Let me tell you, you both were seriously struggling out there but refused to admit it, but Nancy and I had to stay because we were too afraid you two would drown. Then, you both got out and said you were freezing, and Eddie told you how he had heard that people with hypothermia can get hot really fast when they huddle up naked under the sheets."

Oh shit.

"Then, Nancy and I had to witness you two drunkenly stumble your way up the stairs while trying to take off your clothes, and you two would not listen to us telling you that maybe that wasn't a good idea. Luckily, when we went to check on you two, you were both already passed out. Now tell me how awkward this morning was,"

So... soreness because of all the swimming in the pool. Stripping to get wet clothes off... and, "So you're telling me Eddie and I didn't get drunk and sleep together?"

Robin cackles on the other line, "Please tell me you dinguses really believed that."

Steve takes a deep breath and confesses, "Is it worse that we decided that if we had no memory of it then maybe we should make a memory of it?"

The cackling stops on the other line before Robin whispers, "No fucking way."

Steve nods then realizes Robin can't see him, but he remembers something and asks, "Wait, I remember kissing Eddie! What about that?"

There's a pause on the other line and Robin says, "Maybe that happened but..." There's another giggle on the line. Oh no.

"But what?"

"I think you're remembering when you kissed us all on the forehead and wished us goodnight - including Eddie."

Steve groans and sighs, but all things considered, "I'm really glad I didn't call you and ask you about it this morning," Steve confesses.

"Yeah?" Robin asks and Steve can hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah," Steve says. "But I have no idea how I'm going to tell Eddie."

"Tell me what?"

Steve jumps and turns to find Eddie standing in the doorway to his kitchen.

"Have fun!" Robin says with another laugh before hanging up.

Steve sighs and starts, "So, funny story..."

Eddie ends up laughing his ass off while Steve sighs and goes on about how Robin will never let him live it down.

But he won't lie, he's absolutely relieved that his first time with Eddie was sober and entirely memorable. But he's also still convinced that drinking around Eddie is definitely a bad idea since he ended up sleeping without washing the chlorine out of his hair.

The things he does for Eddie Munson...

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie ficlet #idiots to lovers

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie rushes down the narrow hall of the trailer, his cereal bowl still in hand as he chuckles away at whoever has awakened a grumpy Steve from his beauty rest by pounding on the door at 7am.

He opens the front door to find an equally frustrated Dustin Henderson, all prim and proper, dressed ready for school. Dustin practically shoves a large cooler bag into Eddie's hand, giving him a split second to hold his cereal bowl at arm's length so as not to spill it.

"What's this?" he asks, frowning.

He attempts to peer into the bag but can only see the tops of at least two plastic containers at the angle his full hands have forced him into.

"Lasagna," Dustin informs - though it's more like a droning deadpan.

"Goody," he beams, bopping up and down on the spot as his young friend rolls his eyes.

"Dusty!" Claudia chides from the car. She spots Eddie looking directly at her and switches to a motherly smile, "Oh, hi Eddie, darling."

He waves, "Thanks, Claudia."

"Come on, Dusty, we have to get over to Steve's or I'll be late for work."

"Okay!" Dustin calls over his shoulder a little too sweetly. He narrows his eyes as he conjures up his most threatening tone, "You know who doesn't get any lasagna because of you assholes and your cartoon cat-like appetites?"

Eddie grins, "Stevie isn't home, Dustybun!"

"Eddie!" he stomps his foot.

He cackles in the face of the kid's annoyance. And maybe also because Steve is literally here in the back room, likely still grumbling away with his cute-as-hell bed hair as he tries to go back to sleep.

Dustin turns back to his mother, "Mom! Eddie said Steve isn't home."

"He isn't?" she asks so innocently, Eddie's heart swells. Bless this woman, "Well where - oh," Eddie can see her clutching her proverbial peals, "Well, never mind. I'll just keep it in the fridge at work for the day."

He smirks for a moment before he turns his attention back to Dustin, who looks like he is trying to telepathically channel El's superpowers so he can smoke him to smithereens.

Eddie blinks and feigns interest, "Oh, I'm sorry, who doesn't get any of Claudia's mouth-wateringly delicious lasagna?"

He rocks back and forward on the balls of his feet as he bats his lashes waiting for a, surely deafening, response.

"Me!" Dustin screeches, "Mom is so busy making you guys food all the time that now when she makes lasagna, saying, 'Oh, this is for the boys' that doesn't include me - her son!"

"Well you'd better learn how to cook some for your hungry wittle self," he teases. If his hands were free, Eddie would lean forward and give Dustin a condescending pat on the belly. But alas, he has to settle for wiggling his fingers through the bag's straps as he smiles, "Toodles, Dusty."

He only just catches Dustin's gaping stare for a split second before he closes the door on him completely like he's poor Kay Corleone. He cackles away as he heads for the kitchen. Steve, though hard of hearing - especially when he's all bleary-eyed and half awake - must have heard at least some of it because he calls out a smile-filled, "Eddie?".

"Coming, pretty boy!" he calls down the hall.

He sets his bowl down on the bench and makes quick work of dividing four servings of lasagna between the fridge and freezer, both spaces crowded thanks to Claudia's cooking.

"Guess what we are having for dinner..." he coos as he makes a beeline straight for Steve once he heads back to the bedroom.

Meaning, he jumps on the bed and tickles his boyfriend silly.

"Whaaaaat?" Steve whines as he attempts to duck under the blankets before settling shoving a pillow over his head.

"Lasagna!" Eddie shouts to the heavens, fist-pumping while he's at it.

Steve slides the pillow off his face and stares at the ceiling with absolute dread.

"Oh no, not her lasagna!" he dry-sobs, clutching the pillow to his chest.

Eddie drops his hands in his lap, offended.

"You don't like Claudia's lasagna?" he recoils, clutching his own nonexistent pearls.

Steve shakes his head, looking both worried and apologetic as he admits, "It's just too much food, man. Like, it's a kind gesture. And I love Claudia and all but, it's only me at home. And the servings are huge!"

"Oh, please!" he scoffs, "You practically inhale food."

"Not that much!"

Eddie flops back onto the mattress, narrowly missing Steve who is totally crowding the single bed. He places his hands over his own belly, rubbing at it as he hums contentedly.

Steve props himself up on his elbow and slowly quirks his brow as he looks Eddie over with a worrying level of amusement. He watches as Steve's eyes flit to the Garfield plushie sitting at the foot of the bed - a gift he had forced his boyfriend to buy him in commemoration of their first weekend away together in Indy a few months back.

Steve pinches his nose and mutters, "Jesus Christ."

"What?" Eddie asks, genuinely curious.

Wait.

"I'm dating Garfield!" Steve exclaims before falling face-first onto him in a fit of giggles.

#this is so silly #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #steddie #claudia henderson #steddie ficlet #lilys ficlets #i also found out garfield canonically lives in indiana - just thought y'all should know ;) #claudia henderson 🐈

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds. 

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen. 

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks. 

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him. 

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds. 

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright. 

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too. 

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.  

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there. 

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age. 

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs. 

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk. 

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

 Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?” 

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?” 

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion. 

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday. 

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table. 

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?” 

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better. 

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!” 

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle. 

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water. 

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher. 

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass. 

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself. 

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days. 

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you. 

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track. 

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons: 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you. 

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace. 

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words. 

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back. 

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt. 

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them. 

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room. 

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie. 

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same. 

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side. 

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore. 

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had. 

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot.  “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss. 

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

--

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @dylanmunson @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

content warning: this took SUCH a turn to dom eddie munson wanting to make steve harrington just absolutely one, turn his brain off, and two- realize that his interests aren’t stupid. like it’s not… necessarily explicit on here but when this gets a bit more fleshed out… it’s gonna have to be posted on ao3 😂

-

The thing is, Steve Harrington knows hair- okay?

And he also knows that his friends completely like to tease him about it, that they think that most of the time his affinity for it is a bit narcissistic. That he shouldn’t spend as much time as he does on it and he should “let go sometimes”, but he can’t.

He can remember watching his mother years ago in the bathroom mirror teach him how to style his hair, with little spritzes of water and a just a few puffs of sweet smelling hairspray. He can fully and thoroughly recall flipping through magazines when he was younger, back when his parents had started to travel, and taking beauty tips from the pages in regards to detangling. He’d spent three days with a knot at the nape of his neck, after a few days of swim practice, and he had too much pride at the time to ask anyone for help.

But anyway, Steve Harrington knows hair- and it’s not that he thinks other people don’t… but he also knows that some people don’t care as much as he does. And that’s why watching Eddie Munson take a brush to his curls (completely dry which is painful in it of itself) is absolutely heartbreaking in the weirdest way possible.

Steve also is completely and totally aware that his face must be doing… something, because Eddie has turned around to fully face him- instead of glaring daggers at his own reflection.

“What, Harrington?”

Steve shook his head quickly, fingers drumming against his thighs as he diverted his attention to the tv again. He hadn’t had a television in his room before actually, had figured it’d be a bit too much of a distraction from trying to sleep. Steve is sure there’s some study about the light too, a study Robin had rambled to him before.

That’d been before Vecna though, before the year 1986 and all of it’s horrors that it brought along to the town Hawkins once again. In Steve’s mind? A small tv and a couple of VHS tapes was probably the least of his worries after surviving everything. The tv itself had some poorly made horror movie on, something Eddie had brought along from his government provided home, while the two waited on Robin and Nancy to make their way over.

“Stevie?” Eddie had moved closer, brows slightly furrowed as his dark eyes widened. “What’s on your mind, man? Not getting like…” Eddie mimed wiggling his fingers at the side of his own head, and Steve couldn’t hold back the laugh that made it’s way out from his throat. “Okay so Vecna is not getting his creepy hands on you… so what’s up then?”

Steve took a moment and shrugged, before he let himself card a wide-splayed hand through his own hair. The hairspray was just ever so slightly crunchy under his fingers, and Steve huffed as he shrugged again.

“It’s so stupid man, like don’t even worry about it.” Steve flapped a hand in Eddie’s direction, and Eddie was quick to click his tongue against the back of his teeth as he moved closer.

“Nuh uh, big boy.” Eddie eased himself onto the foot of the bed, and Steve forced himself to not scrunch his nose as Eddie’s dry curls swished a bit around his shoulders. “C’mon I can see it in your eyes! Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell m-”

Steve cut Eddie off with a press of a flat palm up against Eddie’s lips, and Steve tried to not think about how soft Eddie was up against Steve’s skin. Steve groaned as Eddie’s tongue swiped against his flesh, and Steve hissed as he reared backward away from the older teen.

“Fucking gross dude!”

“Usually I’m the one doing that, big boy!”

Steve and Eddie both spoke up at the same time, and the two eyed each other warily, before they split into soft laughs between the two. Eddie then shifted further up onto the bed, back pressed up against the footboard, before he knocked his leg against Steve’s.

“C’mon dude, what’s up?”

“Your hair!” Steve finally answered, before he then folded his arms over his chest. “I know it’s stupid, but watching you tear a brush through it dry is actually breaking my heart, Munson.” Steve groaned, and ran a hand over his face before he continued. “And I know it’s stupid and everyone always says it’s stupid of me to care about hair so much-”

“It’s not stupid.” Eddie’s firm tone cut Steve off, and Steve glanced back toward the man through his lashes. Eddie’s jaw is set, firm and unyielding, and Eddie let out a dry laugh. “Fuck man, what has everyone in your life done to you?”

“Huh?”

“You’re… fuck sweetheart, you’re allowed to enjoy things.” Eddie’s voice has gone saccharine sweet, soft and gooey- and the tone has an immediate effect on Steve, making his brain feel all fuzzy and soft. “So, what has everyone in your life done to you?”

Steve doesn’t answer and instead just shrugged again, and it draws a quick intake of breath from Eddie- before the man has pushed himself up and off of Steve’s bed. He’s quick and methodical in his movements, scraping his curls up and off of his neck into a low bun at his nape. Eddie then pulled his boots back on, before he checked his pockets for a moment, and then proceeded to nod to himself. Eddie then extended a hand out to Steve, and wiggled his fingers with a small grin on his face.

“C’mon then, dude. We need to go to the store.”

Steve let his hand meet Eddie’s, and is quick to ignore the flutter in his stomach at the touch. His hands, Eddie’s, are larger than his but the fingers skinnier and calloused from what Steve knows to be years of guitar playing. That, and Eddie now has a pretty decent job at the local mechanic shop, and Steve knows that Eddie enjoys the job. Knows that Eddie likes working with his hands, and Steve tried to ignore the idea of Eddie getting those hands on Steve—

“Stevie?” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s eyes, and Steve shook himself out of his revere. Steve sent Eddie a nervous smile, and he tried to ignore the flush of heat he can feel under his cheeks at the soft coo that Eddie let out. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” Steve bobbed his head in a quick nod, even when Eddie hummed before he moved as to grab the pair of Nikes that Steve had on earlier in the day. “Where are we uh, headed?”

“You and I-” Eddie moved back to Steve, and he curled a hand around Steve’s right ankle before he pulled- which caused Steve to unsteadily rock back, before he clamped a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I gotcha don’t ya worry baby-” Eddie murmured, soft and saccharine again, before he continued on as if Steve’s heart isn’t about to beat out of his chest. Eddie worked Steve’s Nike onto his foot, methodical in tying the laces tight, double-knotted just like Steve does. “You and me are gonna make our way out to Anderson for the afternoon.”

“But why?”

Eddie just sighed, soft and slow at Steve’s softly asked question, before he grabbed at Steve’s left foot, and set about slipping the other shoe onto it. Eddie took a moment, made sure to tie the laces of the shoe tight, before he stood back up so he could peer down slightly at Steve. Steve doesn’t move as Eddie pinched Steve’s chin soft in between his thumb and pointer, before Eddie slightly shook Steve’s face from side to side.

It’s enough that something in Steve just burns.

“Because Anderson has a nice and big hair supply shop in it, and we’re gonna go spend a little bit of government hush money there.” Eddie cooed, his voice soul-achingly sweet again, and Steve forced himself to swallow down the saliva that had been quick to pool in his mouth at Eddie’s tone. “And then when we’re done, I’ll drive us back here and you can do anything you want to my hair.”

“Anything?” Steve croaked, eyes wide as he kept his eyes on Eddie’s from under his lashes. Eddie’s smile is gleaming, and Eddie hummed quietly as he nodded himself.

“Absolutely anything, sweet thing.”

Steve Harrington knows hair, and he knows that.

And he also knows that his friends completely like to tease him about it, well, it’s seems like except for Eddie. So Steve let himself smile and nod, and he reveled in the way that Eddie grinned- a quick flash of teeth as he pinched a little firmer at the meat of Steve’s chin, before he let go.

“Atta boy.”

-

just a little sacrifice to the tumblr readmore gods

#angeldreamsoffanfic #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington has bad parents #steve harrington is not stupid #eddie munson lives #dom eddie munson #sub steve harrington #(eventually) #this is getting fleshed out and posted onto ao3 y’all don’t even worry bout it #background ronance #like if you squint your eyes and tilt your head and don’t have your contacts in so everyone looks like everyone #eddie munson’s love language is acts of service #so is steve’s #i wrote this in an hour can you tell