#evidence: eddie in the first scribble | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loveshotzz · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

My Favorite Customer

Summary: You’ve been buying weed from your new dealer for a few months now. Always leaving it in your mailbox while you’re at work, you two never cross paths until one Friday night when you come home early.

word count: 3k

Warnings: None really besides some kissing at the end. This just a little meet cute with our favorite weed dealer. (Not meant to be a series, just a fluffy one shot) mentions of weed obviously.

A/N: I missed Eddie and this idea came to me based off my real life of buying weed from my weed man for over a year. Have yet to come face to face with him, but there’s always weed in my mailbox when I need it lol. For my twin @boomhauer and thank you @superblysubpar for helping me find my Eddie voice again.

Lifting up the lid of your mailbox, the smirk that tugs at your lips can’t be stopped when a fresh bag of weed sits inside, his usual hand written note attached making your face hot. You look both ways before snatching the eighth quickly scuffling back into your apartment like you were hiding a pound of cocaine and not just enough green to last you a few days.

It had been like this for a while with Eddie. You’d call him up by the number given to you from Robin who swore up and down that he was the best.

You remember thinking his voice was cute the first time you heard it, and you started to wonder if he thought the same after the third call. A flirty edge hidden behind his words every time he’d pick up and realize it was you.

“Ahhh my favorite customer.” He’d tease starting to get these calls multiple times a week.

It wasn’t your intention to never meet Eddie, it’s just how it always seemed to happen. That first time you talked he could hear the desperation in your voice. The stress from the move here and starting your new full time job fresh out of high school, he could tell you needed to relax. Rattling off times he could come by, none of them ever lining up to match with yours.

“You got a mailbox or somewhere I could stash it?” He finally gave in after exhausting almost every other option.

“You’d do that?” You couldn’t help but be embarrassed by the obvious excitement in your voice and he just laughed.

“If the money’s there sweetheart, why not?” The nickname made your heart skip a beat biting your lip to try and hide your smile.

You don’t even know what he looks like.

So this is how it started playing out after that, you’d call with your order and he’d make you blush every time he’d kick the flirting up to ten.

Instantly comforted by his mellow voice, you found yourself looking forward to those few minutes so much that you weren’t sure if the amount you were smoking was from stress or from just wanting to hear his voice again. Then he started adding little notes to your deliveries and now you were almost positive it was the second.

His sloppy handwriting started appearing on each bag with the word ‘favorite’ always scribbled at the top.

Cheeks heating up the first time it showed up, you couldn’t stop trying to imagine what he looked like. Too scared to ask Robin, you knew she’d just follow your intrigue with a line of questioning of her own.

Settling for the vague faceless man you’d conjured up in your clever mind. You let the memory of his voice be the thing that secretly encouraged the movements of your fingers between your thighs every night.

—

Friday morning had you waking up with a smile, your stash low enough to do the thing you’d been thinking about since you hung up the last time. Taking a deep breath you dialed his number that you now had completely memorized. It only rings three times before his voice fills your end of the receiver.

“Is this who I think it is calling me this early in the morning?” The grin in his voice is evident when he answers.

Shuffling your feet nervously, the smile on your own face was starting to make your cheeks hurt.

“Do you always answer the phone like this?” You wonder if he can hear yours too.

“Only if I know it’s you.”his tone sends a shiver up your spine, legs pressing together on their own accord.

“And how’d you know that it was me Eddie?” You draw out his name sweetly, silently squealing when you hear the hitch in his breathing from it.

“Because sweetheart, you’re the only one who calls this early for weed.” catching the way he almost whispers the last part, you hear a gruff voice in the background.

“Boy if you don’t leave soon!”

“Sorry, is that a problem? I just wanted to catch you before it was too late.” The urge to crawl in a hole is strong as you slap your palm on your forehead.

Your eagerness to talk to him becoming more than obvious, the man yelling at him in the background definitely wasn’t helping your new bashfulness.

“Pshh are you kidding me? I love it. Get to start the morning off talking to my favorite girl.” He lays his response on thicker than syrup. Your palms start to sweat noting the way he didn’t say customer for the first time.

Your embarrassment subsides for a split second before the voice from before cuts in again.

“If I get another call that you were late again, boy I swear to -“

The line shuffles on the other end and all you can hear is the sounds muffled arguing before another loud rustle, his voice returning with more irritation in it than you’d ever heard before.

“You want the usual?” He’s short when he answers and you know it’s not supposed to be directed at you, but you can’t help but squirm.

“Y- yeah if that’s okay?” You didn’t mean to give yourself away by stumbling over your words, but when you do Eddie makes a quick recovery.

“More than, listen you have a good day at work today Sweetheart. I really gotta go, but check your mailbox when you get home.” Hanging up before you get a chance to finish saying goodbye you hear Eddie yell “I”m leaving alright?!”

——

Work was exceptionally slow for a Friday night, the unexpected thunderstorm that rolled through killed any possibility of a dinner rush. Cutting you less than half way through your shift, your giddy excitement couldn’t be contained. Friday evenings had become non-existent since you started at Enzo’s. So when the opportunity to actually have one came around you couldn’t turn it down. Stopping at Family Video on your way home, Robin helped you pick out something she swore was good while you did your best to ignore the eyes her friend Steve was giving you.

Strumming your fingers against the steering wheel while you listened to Kiss a little too loud, the heavy rain turned into something less than a light drizzle as your tires splashed through puddles. Planning out your evening alone you didn't even think of what this could mean as you pulled into your parking spot hours earlier than normal.

Too caught up in trying to land the notes to I Was Made For Loving You, you didn’t see the van parked in front of your small complex. Head in the clouds with the possibilities of the night mixed with your bad habit of looking down when you walked, you didn’t see who was right in front of you. The sound of the voice you’d been daydreaming for months about cuts through your mumbled singing. Stomach dropping to the floor when you hear

“Son of a bitch.”

Freezing in place, your eyes slowly trail up towards your front door. Standing at almost six feet tall was a curly haired metal head. Mumbling profanities as he struggled against the lid of your mailbox, his jacket looked caught on something. Broad shoulders covered by a battle vest adorned with a giant Dio patch, you still couldn’t see what his face looked like as he struggled with the sleeve of the leather jacket beneath. Taking in his ripped black jeans and scuffed white Reebok’s, your heart was already threatening to beat out of your chest. If his face was cute, you knew you’d be fucked.

A few more violent tugs of his arm, he finally breaks free as your mailbox creaks dangerously close to coming unhinged off the brick wall. His zippers jingle as he shakes out his wrist, flipping up a ring clad middle finger he chuckles proudly to himself before turning around. Big brown eyes meet yours like a deer in headlights, so cute they punch the air out of our lungs.

Yeah, you were fucked.

Brows furrowed under messy bangs his eyes go from your stunned face down to the keys in your hand with your VHS tape before he takes in your frame. Catching the way they linger just long enough to still be polite. He meets your shocked stare as something clicks in his head. A dimple filled smile pushes past his plush lips, yours threatening to do just the same at the sight.

“Eddie?” Surprised you were able to get his name out of your mouth, his face seems to light up even more as his suspicions were confirmed.

“That depends.” Rocking on his heels he crosses his arms over his chest “Favorite, is that you? Cause boy, you’re even cuter than you sound.”

Blood rushing to your cheeks hearing your nickname in person like this, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth at his compliment.

“That depends.” Looking up at him from under your lashes the dimples in his cheeks deepen at your response.

Twirling one of his curls over his lip, you notice all of his rings “What if it’s your favorite weed dealer?”

Cuter than anything you could have conjured up in your mind you were silently scolding yourself for not meeting him sooner. Straightening your shoulders a little you take a few strides closer to him, watching as his eyes don’t try to hide as they take all of you in.

“I’m sure you call all the girls that, but yes it’s me Eddie.” Smiling bigger than you can help, it’s his turn to take a couple steps closer.

“Nah, that nickname is just for you sweetheart.” Standing close enough to catch hints of corner store cologne trying to cover up cigarette smoke, everything about him made your brain short circuit. Looking down at the movie in your hand his eyebrows raise in disbelief before meeting your eyes again. “Alien?”

“Robin suggested it to me for my unexpected night off.” Flipping it over in your hand to read the back, you could feel his stare on your face rather than on the tape. “Ever seen it?” glancing up at him, he doesn’t try to hide what he was actually looking at.

Nodding, he grins down at you “Buckley’s got great taste.”

Catching the double meaning in his words an electric current that could light up all of Hawkins dances between your bodies. Static vibrating from your fingertips, you couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped between your lips.

The raindrop that hits you between the eyes is jarring, you blink fast before more start a slow and steady decent splattering all around. Raising a large hand up to try and shield his curls he looks annoyed that Mother Nature was cutting his time short.

“I hate to deliver and dash sweetheart, but I don’t wanna keep you in the rain.” Doe eyes taking in your face like he was trying to commit it to memory he moves to step around you.

Panic rises and constricts around your chest as you watch his retreating form, biting the inside of your cheek you work up enough courage to do something you’ve never done. Make the first move.

“Doyouwannwatchitwithme?” Words jumbled together and almost yelled as they fell out of your mouth, your mumbled nonsense stops him dead in his tracks. Turning around, having his full attention like this was making it even harder.

“Come again princess?” The new nickname threatens to send you six feet under when you feel your knees shake. Clearing your throat you gather whatever confidence you can muster under the intensity of his stare.

“Do you want to come watch this movie with me?” Using it as a makeshift umbrella you start walking backwards towards front door “I actually just got this pretty good shit delivered you should try it.”

The smile that breaks across his face is infectious, feeling it in the way your lips stretch so much it makes your cheeks hurt.

“Oh yeah? I mean if you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, that guy’s got the best shit in town sweetheart.” The laugh he pulls from you, he swears it makes your face glow. “I’d be honored favorite, I thought you’d never ask.”

—-

Your living room lays in a blanket of haze from two joints successfully smoked, touches lingering more and more as you two passed them back and forth. Half way through the movie you were giggling through cupped fingers leaning into him as you both sank deeper into the cushions of your couch. His bad jokes and over the top commentary kept you both laughing with shoulders pressed together for support. Neither one of you making any effort to move when you both finally calm down.

Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you were mesmerized by how handsome he was this close. Your stare following the curve of his round nose to the fullness of not one but both his lips, a light sheen coating them from being freshly licked. The sharp planes of his jaw lead you to the thickness of his neck, catching the silver chain that disappears into his shirt.

Time is an illusion in your foggy brain - especially under his spell, losing yourself trying to remember every curve and scar on his face you stare long enough to to get caught. Chocolate eyes connecting with yours, the corners of his lips tug up and like looking in a mirror yours do you.

“Hey favorite”quiet enough for just you to hear, there’s a soft rasp in his voice from all the smoking.

“Hey Eddie”biting your bottom lip, his eyes watch the way your teeth scrape across the silk of it.

Leather creaking loud enough to hear over the sound of the movie and the rain outside, he drapes his arm over the back of the couch. The dip pulling you deep into the warmth of his chest.

“Is this okay?”for the first time you see a hint of nervousness in his eyes as he tries to read the expression on your face.

Nodding you slide a tentative hand up his chest feeling his muscle twitch under your palm, looking up at him you repeat his own question.

“Is this okay?”

His hand reaches up to cup the side of your face, the weed helping you melt into his touch as the pad of his thumb traces your cheekbone. Searching your eyes for any sign of protest he nudges his nose with yours. The heat of his breath fans across your parted lips as your eyes flutter closed completely overcome by him being this close.

“Sweetheart, if I’m reading this wrong please tell me now.” Your top lip brushes with his bottom when he asks the question and you think you might combust if you don’t close the gap.

Tilting your head just enough to get what you want, your lips move together like it was something they’d been doing for years. Each lazy drag setting your skin ablaze.

Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip he quietly asks you for more. Granting him access to something you’re sure you’ll never deny him, you don’t hesitate to let him deepen the kiss.

Tongues meeting each other in the middle, they battle for dominance as your fingers find their way into the thickness of his curls. Tugging slightly, you smile into the kiss when a groan erupts from deep in his chest.

With the rest of the world long forgotten, the two of you stay like this for longer than you can keep track of. Hands exploring curves and grabbing hips, it almost becomes too much when you nip his bottom lip.

Eddie’s the one who breaks away reluctantly when the need for oxygen becomes too much, and his body starts to react a little too strongly to your touch. The screen on the TV had gone blue long ago when the movie ended, leaving your dark living room in its pale bright light. The coloring of it all hitting his face just right.

Nudging his nose with yours he leans his head back against the cushions of the couch. Chocolate eyes looking at you through half closed lids, a lazy smile spreading wide across his kiss swollen lips.

“We should probably stop, and I should probably go.”jutting his bottom lip in a pout he catches the disappointment you try to hide flash behind your eyes. “Not that I want to, I just actually had other stops that I was supposed to make tonight, but it’s not like I was going to say no to you inviting me to hangout.”snorting like that was the craziest thing he could ever imagine, his face lights up when he earns a laugh from you.

“Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed if I was them.” Using his chest to try to push yourself up with your hands, he stops you from getting too far. Collecting your lips one last time, he only lets you pull away enough for your noses to stay touched.

“Besides having a few more drop offs, I’m hoping the next time I kiss you like that is after you let me take you on a date?”catching the nerves in his voice, you couldn’t actually believe he thought you’d say no.

“Bold of you to assume there’s going to be a next time.”raising a brow you do your best to remain straight faced as he narrows his eyes at you.

He brushes his lips lightly against yours again before asking “there’s not?”

Giving in almost instantly you add pressure pushing yourself closer, chuckling as he pulls away, you stop trying to fight the smile that’s threatening to spread across your own face.

“Fine, you caught my bluff.” Huffing in mock annoyance, this time he lets you push yourself up.

It still takes another thirty minutes for Eddie to work up enough willpower to get off the couch, your easy conversation and pouty soft lips making it a near impossible feat.

More stolen kisses and stumbled words fill the empty space on the walk to the front door followed by even more before he finally goes. Sweet just like the nickname he gave you, he couldn’t wait to make you his.

——

taglist: @munsonology @munsonmunster @elthreetimes

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn

5K notes · View notes

steddiehyperfixation · 3 months

Text

don't you forget about me (part eight; final)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)(part seven) (ao3 link)

It was an “if” if Eddie would actually be discharged today, but now, after some more poking and prodding, he's finally on his way home with prescriptions for pain meds and physical therapy.

Wayne helps him up the three creaky, beautifully familiar stairs into the trailer, and Eddie collapses onto the old, beautifully familiar couch the second he gets inside. The weary groan he lets out is only slightly over-dramatized. “I feel like an 80 year old man,” he complains, entire body sore and aching to the bone already. “Now I know how you feel.”

“Oi, I ain't that old,” Wayne protests. When Eddie snorts derisively, Wayne rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, fine, so we both got creaky knees now. You, at least, will be young and spry again in no time, though,” his uncle tells him. “Just get some rest, old man.”

Eddie heaves a great big sigh, takes another breath to steel himself, and then does just the opposite of that.

“What did I just say?” Wayne mutters as Eddie moves to stand again.

“I said I’d call Steve,” Eddie says. Steve had to go to work, but he'd told Eddie that morning to call him if he ended up making it home today. “I’ll dip out of work and come hang out, help you settle in, if you want,” Steve had said.

Wayne offers, “I can call him for you.”

“No, no, I got it,” Eddie insists, words broken by a grunt as he hauls himself back to his feet. “I can make it to the phone, Wayne, I'm not a complete invalid.”

“Alright.” Wayne raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s never been one to hover. “You just shout if you need me.”

Eddie limps - slowly, painfully, with difficulty - to the phone on the wall by the tiny dining table they never use, the surface littered instead with unopened mail and haphazard papers scribbled with notes and reminders and important phone numbers. He leans heavily against the table as he paws through the piles trying to find a note of Steve's number. Eddie finds it buried deep, probably long since memorized by now before his memory got erased, but there it is: a notepad paper with Steve's name scrawled on it and two phone numbers written underneath, home and work.

“Bingo.” Eddie grabs the paper, takes the phone off the hook, and dials the work number.

The phone rings a couple times, and then: “Family Video. How can I help you?”

“Hey, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, as if he hadn't literally just heard it only a few hours ago.

“Eddie!” Steve's bored customer service voice brightens. “Are you home? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, I’m home. I’m alright. I mean, I’m bone-fucking-tired and feel about a million years old, but it's really really good to be back,” Eddie says honestly. He adds, “I’m under strict orders to rest, though - gonna be bored out of my mind, so I could use the company if you were serious about ditching work for me.”

“Of course I was serious,” replies Steve. “It's a slow day today anyways.”

Eddie grins. “Get your sweet ass over here then.”

A smile is evident in Steve's voice too. “I'll be there in ten.”

Eddie hangs up, tries his best to wipe this stupid lovesick grin off his face. He stumbles his way down the hall to his room next, flicking on some music from the cassette player on his dresser and looking around. His room is just as beautifully familiar as the rest of the trailer, not much changed from the way he last remembers it. The same music and D&D shit clutter his surfaces, the same posters clutter his walls. His bed is unmade, clothes litter the floor, same as always.

The only differences: his beloved electric guitar no longer hangs on the wall by the mirror (he was told, devastatingly, that she hadn't survived her trip to the Upside Down), and there are photographs he doesn't recognize taped up around the corners of that mirror. Eddie staggers over to get a closer look, only to first be momentarily jumpscared by his own reflection. His face is pale, eyes sunken, and his hair frizzes out in a greasy, tangled mess around his head, unwashed and unbrushed for who knows how long. Gross, but whatever. He manages to ignore his sickly appearance and inspects the pictures he had apparently deemed important enough to stick to the edges of his mirror.

There are photos of Eddie smiling with Hellfire and his band and the kids, in large groups and small groups, with old friends he remembers and newer ones he doesn't quite. But what catches his attention the most is a photobooth strip of him and Steve. The first picture shows the two of them grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders; the second, a silly face photo, Eddie sticking out his tongue and Steve crossing his eyes; the third, Eddie giving Steve devil horns while Steve laughs; and the fourth-

Eddie plucks the strip off the mirror, stumbles, so taken aback he trips over his own lame feet until he plops down heavily onto his bed, and he stares. He stares at the last image in the row, which depicts - clear as day and undeniably real, immortalized in ink on photo paper - Steve kissing Eddie, tender hand on his cheek, both of them smiling against each other’s lips.

He stares and he stares and he stares. And the longer he stares the more he can almost feel it, taste it, see the events of that photo strip playing out in his mind’s eye like a waking dream. Like a memory.

Steve pulls up to the trailer, the one with the metal music blaring from somewhere inside that announces to the whole park that Eddie Munson is back home. He smiles at the sound, gets out of his car and bounds toward it.

It's Wayne who lets him in when Steve knocks on the door. “He's in his room,” the older man tells him as he steps aside to let Steve in. “Make sure he's stayin’ off his feet, will you? ‘Cause lord knows he won't listen to me.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Steve says, and his tone and his smile say I got him. Wayne nods.

Steve makes his way down the hall to Eddie’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door first, but he doubts that can even be heard over the music so he pushes it open without waiting for a response. “Hey, Ed-” Steve starts, only to falter when he sees Eddie sitting statue-still on the edge of his bed, eyes boring holes into a photo strip of the two of them together. “Oh.”

Eddie blinks, expression unreadable as he looks up and over at Steve. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I-” Steve doesn't know what to say, what he should say. His veins buzz with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety and it's making him feel a bit sick. He takes a deep breath, turns down the music so he can think. “I wanted to. I just- I thought it would freak you out. You didn't know me. I didn't want to force anything on you.”

“So…we were together,” Eddie says slowly. “For how long?”

“Since July.” Steve’s desperately searching Eddie’s face for something, anything, to clue him in to what Eddie’s thinking or feeling right now. “Are- are you freaked out? Because you look a little freaked out.”

“I’m not freaked out,” Eddie says, and it's almost convincing. “I'm just…processing.”

“Oh-kay…” Steve breathes out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, still hovering by the exit just in case Eddie decides he doesn't want him there anymore once he's finished processing.

“I’ve, uh-” Eddie looks back down at the photo strip he holds in his hands and takes a breath. “I’ve been remembering some things, you know, little things - in dreams - about us. But I- I thought I just had a crush or something, because I thought if all of that was real, if we had really been that happy - that…in love - then you would've said something. You would've told me.”

When Eddie's eyes meet his again, Steve realizes he'd misread his expression before. Eddie's not freaked, he's upset, hurt, not because of what he's learned but because it was kept from him. Of all the worst-case scenarios Steve's spiraling mind had come up with over the past couple weeks, he had not considered this one. So preoccupied with his own angst over being forgotten and fear of being unwanted, Steve hadn't thought to consider that him hiding the true nature of their past might make Eddie feel unwanted too. That's the last thing Steve wants; the ache of that trumps any other ache he feels.

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I just- you didn't know me, and I panicked; I didn't think, or-or I thought too much, but I should've just told you.” Steve pushes off from the doorway and goes to sit beside Eddie, because he can't stand Eddie looking at him with those big doe eyes and not being close to him. He leaves a bit of space, barely holds himself back from taking hold of Eddie's hand. “Because it was real, all the things you've been remembering. It was real- it is real, and I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.”

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks him up and down and across his face, and then Eddie grabs him, hands dropping the photo strip to instead clutch at Steve's cheek and jaw as he pulls him in and kisses him. As their lips slide together, familiar, the both of them sigh into the kiss. Steve feels a bursting in his heart, so similar to the way it felt the very first time they’d done this: the giddiness of reciprocation, the intuition that this is right.

When Eddie pulls back after a few long moments, something is changed, something returned. Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter open; and when they do, for the first time since he'd woken up in that hospital bed, Eddie sees him, knows him, loves him.

“How could I ever have forgotten that?” Eddie says, almost whispered, running his thumb across Steve's cheekbone. “How could I ever have forgotten you?”

Steve could cry. Tears made of relief and joy blur his vision, because Eddie is looking at him with all the tenderness he'd been missing these past weeks, the painful emptiness of before now filled. It's all back. His Eddie is back. Steve pitches forward and hugs him bodily. Eddie returns the embrace; Steve sinks into his arms and it feels like coming home.

He closes his misty eyes, buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and the tangles of his hair, and he breathes him in, clinging onto him like Eddie might just disappear if Steve ever let go. Eddie holds him just as close, one arm wrapped firm around Steve's waist while his other hand cradles the back of Steve's head and strokes his hair. Steve soaks in every touch, feels every place where they are pressed against each other, so warm and safe and loving after so long without it. He is whole again in the arms of the man he loves.

“I missed you,” Steve mutters, lips brushing against the skin of Eddie's neck as he speaks, muffled.

“I know, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, “my Stevie, I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay. It wasn't your fault,” Steve mumbles, and he thinks maybe they both need to stop apologizing for this.

Eddie must think the same, because he says, “And it wasn't yours either,” like he knows every twisted, guilty thought that's been haunting Steve lately and he absolves him of them. He tugs gently at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says quietly. Eddie reaches up to brush from his cheek a tear Steve didn't even know had fallen, and as he wipes it away he wipes away everything - all blame, all fear, all pain. Eddie had forgotten him, and it sucked, but now he remembers again, and none of that matters anymore. Steve hangs onto Eddie's wrist. “Just-” His voice rasps with emotion, making it rougher. “Don't you ever forget about me again.”

It's not a promise that can be made with any certainty - anything can happen at any time, just as unexpectedly as it had this time - but Steve doesn't need certainty, he just needs to hear the words, and Eddie gives that to him. “I won't, darling,” he vows, with gentle reassurance. “Never again.”

“Good,” Steve sighs, turning his head into Eddie's hand to press a kiss to the palm.

The last of his heavier emotions drain out of him then and now he can feel the joy of Eddie's return in its whole entirety. As he rolls his face out of Eddie's hand and settles his eyes on the beautiful boy in front of him, a grin begins to spread across Steve's face; Eddie's smile grows in tandem with his, like he's smiling just because Steve is. Steve says, giddy in full now, “You're back.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, lovely and bright, ducking to bump his forehead against Steve's. “I'm back.”

Steve lets go of Eddie's wrist to tangle a hand in his hair, and he tilts his head up to kiss him again, just because he can, because he's making up for lost time. They draw each other in close once more, lips and bodies moving against each other, easy and natural. Steve could stay right here like this forever, never wants to stop holding him or stop kissing him.

But a thought - a question - tickles at the base of Steve's skull, and when he does pull back he asks, hopeless romantic that he is, “Just in case - I mean, just so I know - what was it that brought your memory back? Was it like a…true love’s kiss breaking the spell sort of thing?”

Eddie laughs, gives Steve another quick peck like he always does when Steve says something endearing. “Not quite, Prince Charming,” he responds with a grin so fond Steve thinks his heart might burst. “It was more like…the things I had remembered were just dreams to me, shallow and unreal, but kissing you was like an anchor, a reminder that allowed those dreams to sink in as proper memories and become real.”

“So…basically it was true love’s kiss,” Steve says cheekily, just to hear Eddie’s laugh again, just to receive another affectionate press of Eddie's lips against his.

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie concedes, smilingly, never one not to indulge whimsy, “we can call it that.” But then he amends, with a little less levity, “It wasn't exactly a magic cure-all, though. It didn't bring everything back, there are still gaps in my memory.” He looks at Steve with eyes like pools of melted chocolate, soft and endless. “But I remember that I love you; I remember that much.”

And Steve tells him, “That's enough," and he pulls him in for another true love's kiss.

THE END. taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (continued in replies)

#and that's all folks!#endings are so hard for me but i hope you guys like this one #huge huge thank you to everyone who's followed along; all the love and support on this has been insane and i am so grateful <3 #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

571 notes · View notes

manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years

Text

Headcanon: Eddie likes making smart girls dumb

Word Count: ~2,620

Warnings: 18+ only. Minors dni. Dumbification kink (yup!), rough oral sex (m receiving), face slapping, degrading language throughout, reader is worry on legs and eddie lives to turn her brain off essentially. Reader says something mean but she's stressed and she APOLOGISES AND MEANS IT.

A/N: “Hey, Jo, don’t you have like five different proper wips that aren’t just these needlessly long headcanons your brain comes up with when you should be sleeping?” “Yup! Now read the needlessly long headcanon.”

“Maybe just a little break would do you some good, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, remaining as you are, hunched over your desk. Evidence of how you’ve spent the afternoon is spread across the table. Various empty coffee cups, your bright desk lamp, stacked textbooks, a colour coded periodic table, your lilac notepad that was new last week, now open a quarter of the way through, covered in black notes and pink highlighter lines.

Eddie arrived twenty minutes ago, uninvited, having not spoken to you properly in three days.

Since you were asked by a desperate Ms Loudon to tutor him in History at the beginning of the year, Eddie has improved in every subject he takes. You didn’t just sit with him and run through major events, didn’t just read his essays half bored to give him meaningless feedback. You taught him how to help himself. Finally, Eddie has the knack, the knowledge on how to motivate himself to just sit down and study.

It was a strange, sick relief to realise with finality that he wasn’t stupid like people thought. No, Eddie’s capable, smart even. But smart only goes so far when you can’t sit at your desk without finding yourself seeking out a joint, or a guitar, or a porn mag. These days, he gets Cs more often than he gets Ds or Fs on tests. More Bs on essays than any other grade. The first A he’s had since the eighth grade came, red and circled, in Art last week. An essay on Jean-Michel Basquiat with multiple scribbles reading “good point!”

Turns out, setting a schedule that works for him, taking breaks every hour for a Dr Pepper or a crunchy snack, sitting with you in the library so you can talk each other through your notes, works for him.

So yeah, he knows your way works better than his ever did, ever will. But shit, it’s a Saturday night, and the test isn’t till Tuesday. Chemistry’s a bitch, sure, but Jeff’s your lab partner and Eddie’s heard that you can draw structural formulas with the same ease as writing your name. Or drawing a love heart on his hand, the way you like to do sometimes.

He’s so grateful for you. Not just that he credits you as the reason he’s assured to graduate this year, but that, since he kissed you for the first time, leaning over a library table to hold your busy head in his hands, you’ve opened yourself up to him so sweet it makes his heart sore. You taught him so much, sharing your seemingly endless smarts, and you’ve let him teach you in return. How to play a power chord, roll a joint, let a boy like Eddie lay you down and master your body till you’re a writhing, crying mess with an empty head.

So now, watching you rub your sore eyes, stretch your sore back, crack your sore neck. Yeah, he wants to do something about it.

“I just think maybe you’re overexerting yourself this time,” he says from your pretty, flowery bed, shoes left at the door the way your Mom insists on, the rule held fast even when she’s out.

You feel your shoulders tense, frustration running up the back of your neck to clench your jaw. Why is Eddie even here? You didn’t invite him. Didn’t ask him to come sit a judge, share his unsolicited opinions on the way you work.

“You can think that, but I need to have these notes on carboxylic acid memorised tonight so I can focus on oxidising and reducing agents tomorrow. That gives me the right amount of time to study reversible reactions on Monday night.” You look at him with a tight smile, hoping you’ve explained yourself enough that he’ll leave it, now. “I have a plan, Eddie.”

“You always do,” Eddie grins, his bright eyes not working their usual magic. You look back to your book and sigh, frustrated that you’re using brain power trying to work out how to ask him to leave when you should be focused on reduction reactions. “But, I mean, how long will it really take you to learn what you need about, um, oxidising stuff, tomorrow? Don’t you think you could get back to the acids then, too?”

“Why should I?”

“Cause it’s a Saturday night. You’re exhausted. And deep down you want to watch Children of the Corn with me and cuddle.”

Your heart tweaks inside its ice cage, and you hate him a little then for trying to tempt you away. “Of course I want to relax, Eddie. That’s not the point.”

Eddie smooths his hands across his knees. “Well, what is the point? ‘Cause I really think you’d be better off taking some time away from all the books.”

The graphite at the end of your pencil snaps to leave wood chips, the final push that has you twisting in your seat and yelling. “You’re really not the right person to be doling out advice on studying, Eddie! The fact that you think wanting to relax means you should is the reason you’ve been a high school senior for three years straight!”

Eddie’s kind face goes hard. Your throat tightens with regret.

"I didn't mean that."

"No?" He asks, smacking his hands to his knees as he stands. Your heart fights its way from the ice, pounding and hot with worry. He’s moving to your door when you rush to him, grabbing his arms to hold him there.

"I'm sorry," you say, eyes watering, overwhelmed. Your brain is fit to burst, thoughts running wild. Eddie’s going to break up with you now, for being mean. Eddie’s going to break up with you and never speak to you or kiss you or touch you or smile at you ever again. "I'm so sorry, Eddie."

"I dunno. That was, uh, kinda mean, you know? Sounded like you think I'm dumb or something."

Your head shakes rapidly. "I don't think that. I know you're not dumb, Eddie. Please, I'm sorry-"

"You're sorry?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that."

"You gonna apologise to me properly?"

You stare at him.

There it is, behind the cold stare. He’s got what he wanted. There’s no way you’re going back to that desk now. Even in the low light of your table lamp, you can see the mischief, the satisfaction and anticipation. Eddie isn't angry, not in the slightest.

"Eddie-"

"You just told me you don't even know why you insulted me. That’s kinda stupid of you, ya know? Sounds to me like maybe, between the two of us, you might be dumb one. So maybe instead of arguing with me, you should stop pretending to know better and just let me be in charge, ‘kay?"

Your fingers flex on his arms, one kind of nervous tension leaving your body even as another creeps up. Eddie blinks slowly, like he’s waiting. When you don’t say anything, unclear on what he wants you to say, he sighs, takes his arms from your hold to grasp you. One hand, wide and strong, finds the back of your head, directing your gaze to his. The other presses against your throat, the contrast of warm fingers and cold rings sending shivers through you.

“Are you going to let me be in charge tonight, dummy? Do what I tell you, and nothing else?”

Your head would loll if it wasn’t for his grip, and you wonder if he knew that already. “Mm. Tell me what to do, Eddie.”

Eddie grins, hums, presses a quick kiss to your lips. He murmurs into the skin of your cheek. “Let’s start with you on your knees, ‘kay?”

You breathe a soft, affirmative noise as he pushes you down, down till your knees are pressed to the soft rug in the middle of the room. Distantly, you realise that Eddie stood right here on purpose. Knew you’d end up just like this while you were still in a tizzy at the thought of him leaving. The thought is gone in an instant with Eddie’s thumb digging into the back of your mouth, circling your tongue to gather drool. The other hand goes for his belt, the rough tug and the clinking sound making your clit ache. You watch, mouth open and pleading, while he unzips his pants enough to pull himself from his boxers. Eddie fists his pink cock with tight fingers, the spit he took from your mouth aiding a smooth glide.

It’s torture. You can smell him, the musk of Eddie’s cock, the lingering smell of his tea tree shampoo that he rubs through the thick, dark hair as the base when he showers. The pretty pink head is dripping white pre, more and more forced out each time his foreskin closes over the tip.

“Eddie,” you whisper, looking up at him to find his gaze focused on your desperate face already. “Please.”

“I’ve got a choice for you, dummy,” he says, hips jerking at the thought of what he’s about to offer you. “If that empty head of yours can manage it.” Eddie pulls his foreskin back, exposing the white cum collected there, and smooths it away with two fingers. “Open.”

You practically unlock your jaw, tongue exposed so he knows how much you want this. Eddie smirks, fingers finding your mouth. He presses the pads to the taste buds at the very back then drags them forward, covering your tongue in the masculine, salty taste of his cum. Your mouth waters, swallowing it down the second you can and following his fingers with your mouth, managing a little kiss to them before his hand is flat on your cheek. The sharp smack makes you squirm, eyes darting from his amused gaze to his cock.

“Good?”

“So good,” you nod, eyeing his tip, hoping for more.

“Hm. Here’s the choice then. My cum in your mouth,” Eddie widens his stance, bringing his cock perfectly level with your wet lips. “Or breathing.”

You groan, mouth opening wide again, knees shuffling desperately. It’s answer enough. Eddie laughs, grasps his cock at the base, and slides home.

“Shit,” he says, holding your head at either side. Your chin finds his heavy balls, throat long since used to taking Eddie all the way. The stretch, the plugging of your throat, is blissful. Nothing else is important now. Not tests or studying or broken pencils. It’s not your place to worry about that anymore, not your place to worry about anything. You just need to keep your mouth open and let Eddie enjoy your throat. His head rolls, long hair reaching down his back. Eddie groans through his teeth and returns his gaze to you. He finds your eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He keeps you there longer than you're used to, until the stunted breaths you can only take through your nose like this stop being just enough. You jerk, hands moving from your thighs to his, instinct forcing you to bat at him through denim. Your lungs protest enough that you gag, forcing him from your throat and back to your mouth. You take a desperate, gasping breath as Eddie’s cock leaves your warmth.

Another slap, quick and harsh. “You made your choice, dummy,” Eddie says over the sound of your returning breath. He clasps his base again, driving back down your throat but granting you the blessing of thrusting, giving you half seconds to breathe around his dick when the tip finds your tongue again.

Then he holds his hips still, hands covering your ears and bobbing your head like you’re a toy, made to move along his cock as he desires. The movement makes you dizzy, like your brain is knocking around your skull. “Fucking perfect like this,” he says. “Doing what you’re supposed to be doing, just taking my cock like a silly slut-”

Your nose meets the wiry hairs at the base of him with each aggressive push of your head, your eyes rolling back at the smell of him and the throb of his thick, perfect cock in your gullet. Everything now is just smell and taste and feeling. Nothing to think about, question or consider.

You want to rub your cunt desperately, but your own body wouldn’t allow it unless Eddie were to suggest shoving your fingers in your panties. Instead, you ache between your legs and keep your jaw wide for him. Your cheek throbs suddenly with another slap, no longer a punishment, but just because the way you take a little violence makes Eddie’s cock twitch happily.

“Who's fucking dumb, baby?” He asks, forcing himself down your throat again, waiting until you’re twitching and writhing. Below him, on your knees where you should be. “Who’s fucking dumb? Me or the slut who chose the taste of my dick over breathing?” He slaps your right cheek, crosses his hand over to slap the left. Your face tingles pleasantly. “Fucking-” Eddie presses forward, cock going no deeper, but just squishing his swollen balls against your chin. “Answer me, you stupid slut.”

You try. You try because Eddie told you to, but he’s blocking any sound that could hope to escape. The vibrations of your attempt at me, I’m dumb, travel up his cock and he groans. “‘M gonna cum,” Eddie pulls away, listens to the desperate gasp and the release of built up spit over his cock. He thrusts again, taking and giving you back his cock in quick succession, saliva dripping down his balls and covering your chin. “Gonna cum in your fucking mouth. All it’s good for. ‘S not for speaking, fucking talking back and insulting me, ’s just for sucking my fucking dick- shit!”

Eddie rests the head of his cock on your tongue, using the waves of drool you’ve given him to jerk his cock into your mouth. You moan happily the whole time, tongue finally able to do its job of licking at Eddie’s salty, smooth head for his pleasure. His cock twitches, throbs, and Eddie covers your tongue with ropes of his thick cum. You hold it, even when he takes his softening cock from between your lips. You open them to display it, a white pool in your pink mouth. Eddie huffs a laugh.

“You’re not impressing anyone with that. Just swallow it, dummy.”

Eddie’s cum flows, thick and wet, down your throat. The final slap turns your face to the side with its impact, leaves your cheek almost numb, You press your face back into Eddie’s hand, body knowing it’s always his touch that you need more of, even if it hurts. You sigh blissfully, feeling good, used, and empty.

“Come here, dummy,” Eddie says softly, throwing himself back on your bed and opening his arms with wiggling fingers. You climb into his arms without a thought, pressing your whole face to his sweaty neck. You lick a little, wanting another hit of the tastes his body provides. Eddie rubs a thumb over your aching cheek. “Feeling good?”

“Mmm.” Your clit is still crying for attention, your cunt has been leaking and ready for him since he pushed you to your knees. A faraway thought assures you that Eddie will get to that, once he’s eased you out of the headspace of degraded dummy back to his pretty, sweet girl who gets kisses between her legs for being so good and smart.

“This brain of yours, baby.” Eddie strokes your hair and kisses your temple. “You gotta learn to turn it off sometimes, you know?”

“Don’t need to learn anything.” You shift and squirm in your cuddle to find more of Eddie’s skin. “You do it for me.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson headcanon

5K notes · View notes

mrsjellymunson · 2 months

Text

The Boy Is Mine [Kittie’s edition]

For @carolmunson’s absolutely wonderful The Boy Is Mine community-boosting writing exercise. Thank you Carol for creating this marvellous event 💛 Everyone go look at the guidelines and JOIN IN, no tag is necessary 😃

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

WC: ~1.6k

Rating: M, MDNI

C/W: Fluffy Fluffster McFluffington, friends to lovers, a few swears, descriptions of erotic drawings and literature, allusions to arousal, drug use (smoking the devil’s lettuce), kinda forced proximity?, Eddie is self-deprecating, Hellfire Club being stellar wingmen.

Prompts included: 3 prop prompts, 4 dialogue prompts.

—————————————————————

“What do you mean, we should all cancel?”

Gareth is looking at Dustin aghast, the other members of the Hellfire Club regarding the curly-haired boy with confusion.

“I mean exactly that. We should all cancel. Make it so it’s just the two of them.”

He continues, addressing the whole group.

“Aren’t you all sick of the awkwardness, the pining, the longing looks? I know I am. They’re never going to configure their own romantic night in, so I say we do it for them.”

Ever the insightful one, Erica continues Dustin’s campaign.

“He’s right, Gare, and you know it. These two doofuses are never gonna do it by themselves. So I say, save all of us the pain, and sacrifice one night of socialising for the greater good.”

“The greater good…”, the group grumbles in unison, most nodding sullenly at the loss of a night round at Eddie’s, but all agreed in their collective aim.

—————————————————————

You haven’t known Eddie as a friend for all that long. You only joined Hellfire a few weeks ago, and have smoked with him and the stoners at the bench in the woods a couple of times, but that’s about it. Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been admiring him from afar for considerably longer, although you’d never tell him that.

Tonight is gonna be the first time you’ve spent time with him. Just him. At his trailer. Alone. Somehow all the other members of Hellfire ended up dropping out or having other plans, but they all insisted that you should definitely still go. You know you have no reason to be nervous, but there’s something that happens every time he looks at you that just makes you feel, well, fluttery.

You take a deep, steadying breath and knock on the screen door of the trailer, and from inside you hear a muffled, “Come in!”

Eddie’s sitting on the floor on a small throw pillow, his back against the couch, scribbling in a small, green notebook. It’s evident from the spoon sticking out of the container in front of him that he’s been eating vanilla frosting straight out of the tub. The weed must be getting to him already.

He looks up as you enter, and hurriedly closes the book as he goes to stand. He glances at his watch and greets you with a cheerful, if a little flustered, “Hey, sweetheart! Are you early? I didn’t think… Oh, I must’ve got distracted and lost a little time there.”

He beams at you as you move into the modest living room, dimples popping and those adorable chocolate brown eyes flashing in your direction.

Yeah, fluttery... You wonder how on earth you’re gonna keep it together for an entire evening.

Eddie beckons you over to the couch, and as you perch on the edge he invites you to spark up a pre-rolled joint as he somewhat self-consciously grabs the almost-empty frosting container and goes to the kitchen to get drinks.

As he moves, you can’t help but take him in. His hair is clean and fluffy, and he leaves a cloud of a not unpleasant masculine body wash in his wake. His shirt, which fits far too nicely, is a deep, unfaded black, and the print on the front seems really vibrant. It seems to be burn and tear-free, the sleeves are intact and attached, and it’s tucked into his jeans, which also appear to be devoid of rips. Could they all be… new? But, why would he be wearing his best clothes just for a simple social?

Taking a long drag from the joint and needing a distraction from all the unbidden fluttering, you grab the notebook. It’s one you’ve never seen before. It's pretty, and has an embossed cover sporting some kind of fantastical creature. It’s very Eddie.

Looking inside, you see drawings of dice, weapons, ubiquitous Eddie stuff. But then you spot some full-page sketches of sexy elves, a long-haired medieval maiden, boobs, even a couple of well-proportioned penises. You’re a little surprised, but the drawings are so good and the level of detail so exquisite that you almost forget the subject matter.

There’s some writing too, short scenarios about fantastical characters fucking on mountain tops, magical sex toys, a wizard with an impossibly long tongue... You know you shouldn’t be looking, but you can’t tear your eyes away, and you feel a subtle heat developing in your belly.

You skip to what must be his most recent scribblings, wondering what he was so engrossed with as you came in, which is where you find content that looks oddly… familiar. There’s an outline of a story about a magical prince ravishing a fair damsel at a location that sounds eerily similar to the spot in the woods that a group of you discovered only the other week. A sketch of a figure wearing a crown, surrounded by intricate renditions of dragons, who has your eyes and lips, and physical proportions that look an awful lot like yours. A picture of a hand, adorned with something that looks very similar to a bracelet that you wear, with one of Eddie’s rings on a finger...

Eddie returns from the kitchen with sodas poured into old plastic cups branded with worn logos that look like they came from a ball game years ago.

“The maid took the week off so we’ve run out of, like, nice cups. Is this okay?"

You didn’t hear his socked feet pad in on the soft carpet, and his voice startles you. You jump, dropping the notebook onto the coffee table with a small thud. It falls open at the picture of the dragon lady.

Eddie freezes, eyes popped wide and jaw dropped open. He gapes a few times like a fish as you quickly scramble backwards onto the sofa, talking quickly and apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie! I shouldn’t have been looking. I- I didn’t see much, honestly.”

He panics and rushes to put the cups down on the small coffee table, spilling a little from one of them. He quickly sits down next to you, and runs one hand nervously through his chestnut bangs while the other reaches shakily towards the notebook, but then pulls back.

He waves that hand in the air as he mumbles, “Umm, you weren’t supposed to see any of that. It’s, uh, ideas for campaigns or whatever. It’s just fantasy, y’know?”

He swallows thickly and his eyebrows pinch, and he’s studying your face to try to judge your reaction. Are you weirded out? Freaked? Upset? Angry?? Has he just ruined everything by forgetting to hide that damn book?

You see the terror in Eddie’s eyes, and you try to reassure him that you’re not offended by what you saw. In fact, quite the opposite. You blurt out,

“The drawings, they're really good. Amazing, actually. And the little stories, too. I sorta did read some, I’m really sorry. But it’s all really captivating. Kinda sensuous, almost visceral...”

You frown ever so slightly at your admission and chew your lip.

He asks, an endearingly hopeful look on his face,

“And… you like that?"

You look into his glinting, mahogany orbs and smile softly.

“Yeah, I like it, Eddie.”

You shift in your seat, and Eddie can’t help but notice how you subtly clench your thighs together.

The edges of Eddie’s lips quirk up into the tiniest smile, as he realises that not only haven’t you completely freaked out, you also, apparently, even liked at least some of what you saw.

But just as quickly, his face drops. Looking at his lap and rubbing one thumb over his rings, he says quietly,

“Yeah, but it’s just fantasy, right? In real life, no Dragon Queen would ever want a freak like me.”

Bending forwards to peek under the curtain of hair that’s dropped in front of his face, you look up into his eyes, and state, softly,

“Aw, don't be like that. That's not even true. Some people would give anything to be your Dragon Queen."

He turns his head to look at you with a questioning expression.

“Yeah?”

Quietly, you reply,

“Yeah. You never know who’s gonna think you’re kind, and smart, and pretty…”

There’s a beat of tense silence. Needing something to do, you teasingly push at his knee with your hand. You both let out nervous little chuckles; it helps to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

As Eddie’s leg springs back from your touch, you notice that sometime during all of this your thighs have started touching.

Shit.

Fuck it.

Whether it’s the weed, or the contents of the notebook, or the way your skin feels like it’s on fire where it’s in contact with Eddie, or simply the way Eddie’s responding to your flattery and compliments, you feel emboldened, and decide to admit just a little of your feelings for him.

“You know, I find you pretty, Eddie.”

He looks genuinely surprised.

“You- You do?”

“Yeah. Really pretty. Gorgeous, actually, if I’m being truthful. And funny, and clever, and astonishingly creative, and-”

He cuts you off.

"If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

“Oh yeah? And what kind of a problem would that be?”

His cheeks turn the most beautiful shade of pink as he admits, “The kind of problem that I’m gonna need to cover with a damn cushion, that’s what!”

You cackle, which makes Eddie laugh, a beautiful, booming sound emanating from deep in his chest.

You both start to giggle, all remaining discomfort dissipated. You theatrically bend and retrieve the pillow Eddie was sitting on earlier, handing it to him with a flourish as you dip your chin and peer up at him through your lashes.

“Might it also be the kind of problem that could one day be resolved by taking a certain Dragon Queen to a certain clearing deep in the woods, and doing certain things to her, perhaps with a certain magic tongue?”

Eddie inhales sharply through his nose, eyes twinkling, and suddenly looks dreadfully serious. His gaze locks with yours as he starts to lean into your space, and his gaze starts to flick between your eyes and lips.

He raises one hand to gently skim his fingertips down one side of your jaw and smiles a little as he says, in a low and husky voice that you can barely hear,

“Oh, my Queen, I think that would absolutely be the most perfect solution...”

—————————————————————

Thanks so much for reading!

A/N: If you haven’t seen Hot Fuzz, go do it. A reference near the beginning will make a whole lot more sense 😉 And if anyone spots the Shining reference somewhere in here, you win an invisible prize that you’ll never see, but it’s great, I promise.

Go go go check out the masterlist of other fabulous contributions for this challenge. Support your community!

Comments and reblogs give writers life, please share the love 💕💕💕

Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician, and @sunshinepeachx bc we’ve bonded over Eddie fluff 😆

#eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfic #writing exercise #eddie munson #Eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #nervous!eddie munson #prompt challenge #prop challenge #self deprecating!eddie munson

134 notes · View notes

greenieflor · 1 year

Text

Eddie doodles. Not specific drawings, but little shapes. Just dragging his pen across paper as he thinks. He's usually good at keeping them off of “important” papers these days, that used to be a point of contention between him and Steve. Steve would be getting ready to go to class and see that his essay he stayed up all night working on had a collection of little scribbles in the corner. Now Eddie’s doodles are mostly covering his d&d notes or the little pad of paper they keep by the phone. Steve loved Eddie's doodles. He thinks they are so perfectly Eddie, the physical manifestation of what his mind was doing at the time.

So Steve starts to hold onto them.

It started with a page of the phone notepad, just a little geometric figure with a note about Robin being late for movie night this week. Then it was a vaguely floral looking one on the corner of a character sheet Eddie did for Steve for a one shot they put on when the kids came home to visit for the holidays. It keeps going like this, Steve nabbing pieces of paper before Eddie can toss them or file them away.

Eddie doesn’t just doodle on paper, though, he traces shapes into Steve's skin all the time, when they are watching tv together- something like a sun on Steve’s arm. Smoking with Jon and argyle? Swirls on his thigh. Steve is covered in invisible doodles, ones he wishes could come up to the surface of his skin and show themselves, show the evidence of Eddie's wandering mind on his skin.

So Steve pays more attention to his collection. There are shapes he recognizes, ones he's felt traced over and over into his hip or hand or shoulder. Eddie knows Steve holds onto old papers, but he starts getting very protective of one notebook in particular. Steve doesn’t think much of it, figures it's something for a new campaign or song and Eddie will share when he's ready.

Except its been two years now with that notebook and Steve still doesn’t know what the big secret is.

He finds out on their wedding day.

Eddie Munson marries Steve Harrington on a Friday in May. He has been preparing his vows for three years, even before he proposed. He knew they needed to be perfect. So when the time came, Eddie pulled out that same notebook he’d been drafting them in all these years and Steve let out an exasperated sigh and an “of course”. Eddie still didn’t know what he was going to say. Hge decided to go with what he wrote first, when he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with this man before him. In the top corner of the page, Steve spots a doodle, spiky and big and beautiful.

Robin stole Steve away for three days after the Munsons returned from their honeymoon-citing unfair custody before she pulled him out of the house. Steve managed to convince her to go to the tattoo parlor Eddie went to with the newest, yet most important, piece of paper in his collection folded in his pocket. At first he was going to get it over his heart, but realistically Eddie sleeps on Steve's chest enough that healing it would be too difficult. He decides on his thigh, right where Eddie's hand falls when they curl up on the couch.

Steve comes back home in shorts reminiscent of his scoops days, showing off the freshly inked mess of lines decorating his upper thigh. Eddie has to physically stop himself from jumping on his husband and biting at his thigh- but it was a close thing. As soon as Eddie realizes what exactly Steve chose, he starts openly weeping in the driveway. Through tears, Eddie walks Steve through the proper tattoo care (this is far from Steve's first tattoo. They do this every time. Tears and all.) Robin ushers the two inside and kisses their cheeks goodbye. Inside, Eddie grins through the last of his tears and reveals his own fresh tattoo. A constellation across his ribs and hip, dotting the scar tissue with stars. It takes Steve a moment to realize why the constellation looks so familiar, he sees it every day dotted across his own body.

#the plant scriblles #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #stranger things ficlet #platonic stobin #some cute fluff of them getting tattoos! idk #enjoy!!

163 notes · View notes

ash-is-dying · 9 months

Text

Mr. Perfectly Fine: Chap 1

A/N: Literally wrote this the same night as the preview but wanted to at least spread out the release a little. Also i’m sorry it’s kinda short I just wanted to get stuck into something.

Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Chapter 1: Mr. Pretty Face

---

Ever since you had moved into your apartment across the street your morning ritual has become visiting the coffee shop ‘Grateful Bread’. A pun which you’ve always had a soft spot for. It was an empty little place, rustic and old but it felt like home. Not many people came and went so it was relatively easy to pick out the regular customers. They were also the one place you had ever been to that didn’t make fun of your peculiar daily order of a caramel hot chocolate with a shot of espresso and almond milk. Most days you felt like the order made you seem like a bit of a snob but the workers would put on a smile and make it just as you liked it.

From the size of the place it was clear there was a small staff. There was Becky, a younger woman in her early twenties, Darron, an older man with silver streaks in his neatly groomed hair and beard, Lizzie, a middle aged woman who knew the menu and people’s orders off by heart and then the owner Wayne, he was by far the oldest and he could get grumpy at times but he was never mean to anyone. The day crew knew exactly who you were and you knew them just as well.

Which is why it was so surprising when a new face turned up behind the familiar counter. Especially one that stood out so much from the others. He was pretty. Really pretty. If anyone had asked you to guess what his name was your first one would be Mr. Pretty Face. He was young but had obviously been working hard most of his life, forehead creases and smile lines etched into his face from overuse. Other than that his skin was smooth and pale, tattoos beginning to extend down his arms, bats and band references and more detailed works hard to interpret from afar. His frizzed up hair sat in a messy bun behind his head, hardly keeping his face clear as every few seconds he had to blow his fringe and loose strands out of his way.

Your eyes had not moved in around 5 minutes due to the shock of it all. He was gorgeous and you had an overwhelming urge to find a way to slip him your number. With an unusual burst of confidence you snatched a napkin from a nearby booth and used a pen from today’s lecture to scribble it down. With the napkin wedged into your pocket you started to move towards the register to order.

Your confidence drops as you stand waiting at the register as he pays you no notice. He cleans and sorts machinery while you wait for him to even glance your way.

“Excuse me?” You managed to get out, not wanting to seem rude. His head shot up a confused look on his face. Oh God those eyes. They were a rich shade of brown, you could spend hours staring into them and watching them swirl like melting chocolate. Shaken, you don’t see his face change to one of slight annoyance.

“You got somethin’ to say or are you just gonna stand there?” He says his stance stiffening more as he stretches to his full height.

“Oh sorry.” You introduce yourself and muster up a smile. “I’m here most mornings so I just wanted to say hi.” You glance down at his nametag on which is what you think says Eddie. “Eddie is it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Please don’t use my name don’t pretend to know me.” He goes back to cleaning before realizing you hadn’t left yet. “Anything else or wanna talk about yourself some more.” He says with evident malice.

“I just- wanted to order something.”

He sighs as he places down his cleaning supplies and he leans over the register his eyes holding yours in a relatively bored expression. He stands expectantly waiting for you to say absolutely anything. “Well?”

“Well um. Can I get a caramel hot chocolate with-”

“Sorry a what?” His face looks dumbfounded.

“A caramel hot chocolate? It’s just a hot chocolate with a few pumps of caramel.” You say sheepishly as your face starts to heat up.

“You know I’m gonna have to charge extra for the caramel right? Can’t do any freebies.” He says as if you’re asking for a free drink.

“Yeah- yeah I know.” You reply softly.

“Great.” He leaves the register to start making the drink leaving you alone midway through your order. You watch as he starts to pull out the caramel and ingredients needed for the hot chocolate. You watch him as he turns on the steamer and starts piling chocolate and caramel sauce into a cup.

“Sorry just-” He glares as you interrupt. “I also wanted a shot of espresso and almond milk in that too please…” The words died off the longer the sentence dragged on. He bites his lip hard as he closes his eyes and groans.

“Does it make a difference?”

“What?”

“Milk is milk, does it change anything if its from a cow or a nut? Can’t you just drink what I make you instead of complaining about me trying to do my job.” You’re left speechless as he talks your hand fidgeting with the number in your pocket.

“Can I just… have almond milk please?” He takes the steamed whole milk and dumps it in a nearby bin. He then passive aggressively drops the used pot into the sink next to the coffee machine.

“Did you wanna maybe mention these things while you were ordering? Just because you’re a regular doesn’t make me a mind reader.” He says with a sharp edge in his voice. “Almond milk?”

You nod slowly.

He lets out a deep sigh as his hand runs over his face, and he storms out the back. Some muffled yelling ensues and he returns with a bottle of unlabeled milk with the letters A.M. scrawled lazily in sharpie on the side.

Almond Milk. The world’s biggest inconvenience apparently.

He furrows his brows and the ends of his bun fall into his eyes as he steams the milk prepared for the ‘ridiculous’ caramel hot chocolate. His grumbling can be heard from the counter which you’re almost positive is intentional. No one has upset you like this in a long time.

Once the drink is made he scribbled something on the cup before placing it harshly on the bench. His deep brown eyes that just a few minutes ago were mesmerizing are now darkly staring into yours. You pick up the cup as he turns back to the register to take a new order, on the side he’s written

‘Almond Milk Bitch’

You can’t stop yourself from tearing up in anger and disappointment. The phone number you’d written on the napkin now torn up and discarded on the service bench.

You made a decision then and there. You’d avoid that asshole for the rest of your life if you had to. ‘Mr. Perfect Face’ was dead and buried.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #slow burn #enemies to lovers #barista!eddie #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader

66 notes · View notes

welcomehomeincorrectquotes · 4 months

Text

The Rejuvenation Theory by @welcomehomeincorrectquotes and @thatgayoctopus:

“It's a rejuvenator. Homeworld used to use these things on Gems that started steppin' out of line. One hit with this... you're back to how they made you.”

“Oh, my stars, I touched it! I could have lost all my character development!”

Hypothesis: Are the characters of Welcome Home getting reset to their “Factory Settings” whenever they stray from the show's intended script?

Evidence so far:

Bear in mind, we are still very early in the story so we are naturally missing a lot of the pieces of the puzzle and that, individually, the evidence doesn't mean much, but put it all together and I think we start to see a pattern.

Nosipho: Hiya Wally! You and your friends sure seem like a bunch of wonderful folks! What is your favourite memory with each of your friends? Wally: No memory.

Oh dear, Wally scribbling himself out of that first sentence is not a good sign.

Barnaby: Hiya Howdy, I think we’re gonna enjoy ourselves the usual. Howdy: A usual for my usuals? Coming right up, pal-ly! Wally: The usual? I thought we were getting hotdogs. Barnaby: That is our usual, little buddy, it means something you and I get all the time!

It could be that Wally is just unfamiliar with the saying “the usual”, but if this is something they do all the time, shouldn’t Wally already know this?

Eddie’s description: Despite having a written origin, Eddie had never stated the correct name of where he came from throughout the show's run. The running joke often had him stating a place that did not exist, followed by an admission to misremembering it as a place he delivered to as opposed to a place he lived.

This seems to go beyond being "forgetful". Not remembering where you're from is one thing, but mixing it up with somewhere you've visited is another.

Eddie: I’m starting to think nobody’s there… Wait… I can’t remember if the phone was ringing… Maybe I was going to make a phone call... But who would I call?

This gives me Dori vibes.

Wally: Aw. I wanted to learn the colours. Frank: Wally, I think you already know the colours. Wally: …I could hear them again.

This conversation reads to me as: "Wally, I've already taught you the colours." "...have you?"

And then there is this line in the letter from Frank to Wally:

Frank: *to Wally* I have found a new insect today. You remember what an insect is, don't you? It is a beautiful arthropod!

Why would Frank feel the need to ask Wally if he remembers what an insect is? Insects are Frank's whole schtick and Wally most certainly knows who his neighbours are! Does this happen often?

That's just what I've noticed so far! What do you think? Anything I missed?

#Eddie Dear #Wally Darling #Frank Frankly #Howdy Pillar #Barnaby B Beagle #Julie Joyful #Sally Starlet #Poppy Partridge #Home (Welcome Home arg)#welcome home puppet show #theory #welcome home theory

34 notes · View notes

caxde · 1 year

Text

heartsease | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you’re new to Hawkins and you’ve been having a rough time, you find a friendship and feeling blooming between you and your dealer eddie. (4.7k)

warnings fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort + angst (kind of a lot sorry), mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to friends to potential lovers, idiots in love!!!, negative thoughts/use of weed&alcohol tw!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! possible pt2 coming!

It was a distraction.

Truth be told, you confuse it all, all the time.

Days bleed into each other, and you can’t really recall when something did or did not happen.

But it usually started in the same way.

You’d wake up, and as soon as your eyes opened, you were stuck in a loop. You’d squeeze your eyes, and scratch them, begging for sleep to leave them, your face puffy on the mirror reflection, sun hitting your face since your blinds were still broken. You’d play with the end of the shirt you had felt asleep the night before while you’d walk to the bathroom, still half asleep, daze evident on the way your body stumbles in every step you take.

You always try to clean after yourself the best you could, but the thing is, you always seem to miss the same spot near the couch, or beside the table.

Might be for the constant reminders of how it all used to be, and how they all seemed to come back on the front of your mind in the early hours of your day, freezing you on the spot as it all replayed. Over and over again in your head.

Music or the T.V could be playing in the background but it didn’t really matter, you’d remain there, standing up looking into nothing, with everything on your head. Killing time with anything, reading or scribbling down on your journal, going out for a walk or most recently, laying on the floor until sundown. Sure, you’d go to work every time they’d call you, every time they needed you to cover somebodies’ else's shift, or they were short staffed, you made a living, not a comfortable one, but a reasonable one.

Usually, when nightfall came, you’d stumble out of your apartment, always stopping for a second to let your body rest against the door, taking a deep breath before stepping away, down the stairs. You always had to catch your breath when you saw how the sky looked as the sun went down, orange and pink tones invading it all, making you feel small and insignificant in comparison.

You walk. Aimesley at first, not really paying attention to where you were going first, and embarrassed when you’d realise that once again you were down the same road, close to his house. The first few times you ended up there it had been awkward, a bit of small talk and that would be it, you’d go back to your couch as soon as you could, but lately, he had grown fond of you, he’d let you stay as long as you’d like. So it came as no surprise that he was already waiting for you, a smile on his face as he heard your steps up to his door, recognising the way you knock. Two taps followed by the sound of your nails playing with the door rhythmically, waiting for him to open the door.

His smile always seemed to illuminate the room he was in, and it did as soon as he opened the door, his head tilting ever so slightly down to look at you, lips curved upwards as he saw you, looking up at him, your eyes turning from numbness to something he can’t quiet identify, as you purse your lips together.

“Can I come in?” You ask, your voice soft and low.

“Was already waiting for you.” He teases as he steps away from the door, gesturing you to come in.

You look down as you cross the door, heading straight for the familiar couch. Looking around as you hear Eddie’s steps following you close.

“How’d you know I’d come?” Your voice comes out smaller than you intended it to.

“It's Wednesday, and I haven’t seen you since Sunday, I dunno, lucky guess.” He stumbles through his words, not in a shy manner, Eddie was never shy with you.

“Mmmh.” You let out as your eyes follow him to the couch, sitting down, leaving you plenty of space wherever you choose.

You circle the little coffee table, choosing the little loveseat across him, your legs kicking up, resting them both up high, crossed, so they don’t touch the floor.

“So, the usual?” He asks, with the same charming smile he always uses when you are around.

“Yeah.” You let out, you hadn’t realized how tired you were until you were sitting down again, looking at him, lost in his presence.

He stands up, walking down the little hallway to his room, the mystery that you have never seen, though everytime he opens the door, a strong smell comes out, like incense, maybe sandalwood, you’re not sure. You like looking at Eddie. Maybe it’s just the fact that you miss having company, that staying isolated for so long is messing with your head, and coming here makes you remember that there are still good people you can be with, or maybe it’s the fact that Eddie is good-looking. Maybe it's the way his curls bounce every time he takes a step, how his shirt russells against his belt, how he always emerges back from the room, with a half smile and shaking the bag where he keeps it, proud of himself.

“There you go.” He says, as he hands it out to you, fingers relaxed, the bag filled with your escape ticket. You pressed your lips, as anxious as you were the first day, but this time it became a upside-down smile, he seemed pleased to see you smile finally.

“Thanks Eddie.” You mutter, as you reach for it, gracing his skin for a second too long, warm and soft to the touch. You place it on the inside of your jacket fastly, as you take out the exact quantity you knew he was going to ask.

“Thank you” He said as he grabbed the bills away from you, putting them away in his back pocket. As he starts to turn around so he can find his spot on the couch, he speaks again, avoiding eye contact as he does, darting around the room. “Y’know, you can smoke it here.”

“I usually go down to the lake.”

“Wayne’s not around, so the smell won’t bother him.” He tries to negotiate with you, that stupid grin that he had on his face made you nod, as you shrug your shoulders.

“Okay.”

You can tell how pleased he is with himself as he bites his lower lip with excitement. You shake your head in an attempt to hide a coy smile that your lips now had. Emptying your pockets, leaving everything you needed neatly on your thighs. Even if you don’t realise it, Eddie stares at every movement you do meticulously, memorizing how your fingers rotate the grinder not with pressure but with softness, everything about you seemed to be soft, how you placed the compressed weed into it, measuring how much you wanted, how your teeth bitted your lower lip as you concentrated. He started to roll his own too, the room still quiet, only hearing the movements that you made. Some paper rustling as you dumped the mixture of weed and tobacco on it, with a rolled up filter, you started to roll it up towards you, and as you licked the sticky part of the paper your eyes looked up, tongue touching the paper as you looked at him, pink cheeks as he stared, waiting for you to finish to do the exact same thing. You smile somehow embarrassed once you’re done, waiting for him to hand you the lighter.

“Yours looks prettier than mine.” He says, lifting the one he made up, smirking at you.

“Mmh, guess I’m better than you.” You tease a little, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He throws you his lighter, watching you closely as he awaits. You place the spliff on your lips, parted slightly, inhaling as soon as the fire sparks it up, once the warmth hits your tongue you smile slightly, letting the smoke out into the lighted part of the joint. “Thanks.” You whisper to him as you toss the Zippo back.

“No problem.” He replays. Your eyes dart, from the spliff to him, as you see how his lips let out smoke slowly, almost as if he’s playing with it.

You look at him for a bit, grateful that smoking makes you even more comfortable around him.

“Y’know, it’s the polite thing to do, right?” He starts, out of nowhere.

“What is?”

“Letting you light it up first.” He starts, trying to explain himself, but you cut him off.

“Only because it wasn’t matches.” You replay, he seems confused by that, eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face, as if asking or saying, please, tell me more. “When someone smokes with you, and you’re the one that invites them to, you need to let them light it up first if you have a lighter, but, if you have matches on the other hand…” You pause for a moment, as you inhale again, keeping his attention. “It’s only polite that you light up first, so you inhale whatever toxic shit they have and your guest doesn’t.” You finish explaining, a gratified look on your face as you look back at him through the smoke.

“Wow.” He mutters. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that long” He teases, and he finally manages to make you laugh, and he doesn’t have to mention it, but it is the first time he hears you laugh, and it sounds angelic to him. “I knew about the lighter, but not about the matches.”

“Well, the more you know I guess.” You joke, you were joking with him now, feeling like a pressure is being lifted as you sink down further into the loveseat.

He doesn’t say anything else for a while. And neither do you.

Your legs come up, your knees up to your chest, arm resting on top of them, and your head just kind of finds comfort on top of them, you're curled up, and you seem more comfortable than ever. He smiles down at you, softly, at the image of you smoking slowly, he hasn’t told you anything at all, but he enjoys you more than he knows he should. He’s lost on you, and the way that your hair falls away from your face. He likes the way your eyes seem to have closed down a bit more, the droopiness of the weed has made your eyelids feel heavier, and you let them fall more closed than before, making you look even more approachable than ever.

“You doing okay over there?” He asks, a husky tone in his voice now, makes you blush unconsciously.

“Myeah.” You mutter. “S’just, hitting now.” You let out, eyes fixated on the consuming end of the joint burning in between your fingers, playing with the smoke that comes out of it, moving it in short small circles. “So I usually put on music.”

“I’ve got music.” He says as he stands up, you can’t help but laugh as a thought crosses your brain.

“No screaming.” You demand, and you can hear how he chuckles, even if he’s standing with his back facing you, you can tell that he’s got a big smile on now.

When you hear his steps coming back from his room you chuckle as he drops a tape into your lap, waiting for you to examine it. You look up at him for a second, hands on his hips as he awaits for you, nodding with his head as he purses his lips together, holding the spliff in between them.

As you turn it around you see a little note on the back no screaming for eds in delicate lettering, you smile, but truth be told it becomes a sad smirk, as you realise that’s a woman's handwriting, and get confused at the jump that your heart seems to make as the realisation hits you.

“The smiths?” You ask looking up at him.

“Robin made it, for when they come and we have a…uh… in sort of night.” He tries to over explain himself, your head falls to your side as you look up at him.

“Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“Like, your girlfriend?” You ask before realising why or what you’re asking, he laughs as he shakes his head.

“No, no… Not even close, she uhh… Not her type.” He’s not only stumbling through his words, as he points at himself, but he chuckles as he explains it all to you, his tone has changed now, throatly as he hides a cough. “Besides, I think she is kinda like my best friend, more like uh…an annoying cousin.”

“Oh, okay.” You feel yourself blushing, as a small relief invades you slowly. “You’ve got more annoying cousins?” You ask as you hand him the tape back, nodding as you do so.

“Oh yeah.” You’re not sure how, but everytime he laughs something deep in you warms up to him even more. “There’s Nancy, uh she’s way too passionate over every single thing she deems unfair…” He begins to explain as he fumbles with the tape player. “She used to date this dude named Jonathan, but uh… He decided he was happier in California so… He broke things off.” He said, crouching down now, your eyes can’t help but travel down for a moment, as his jeans seem to hug his waist better now. “Pitty, I liked Jonathan. But yeah, and then there’s Steve.” He adds, as he hits play, standing up quickly.

Back to the old house, starts to fill the room.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, he’s this really… well, he looks like your typical jock but… honestly he’s not mean, or stupid or anything like that, he’s… nice.” He chuckles as he plops down on the couch.

“You seem to have a good friend group.” Even if you don’t intend to come across as jealous, your toneless voice doesn’t help you.

“Yeah, well, I’ve also got the Party, y’know, my D&D group.” He adds, happy, he sounds happy to talk about his friends, and his stupid smile doesn’t help you from copying the way his lips curve upwards.

“So you’re a nerd.” You tease him, your head now laid back, resting on the back of the loveseat, and even if you don’t see it, Eddie takes a moment to look at you, and the way your neck is exposed now, skin soft and naked.

“And a freak!” He adds, making you both chuckle. “What about you, who do you hang out with?”

“No one.” You admit, a bit too fast. You realise now, as you look back into his eyes, that yours are starting to sting, you know that if you hold his stare you won’t be able to stop tears from falling from them, so you look away, vision lost into nothing.

“What- uh- Whatduyoumean?” He asks now, low, you feel his stare on you.

“I hang out with you…” You try to convince him, but your brittle voice doesn’t do much for you.

“You don’t..?”

“No, I don’t have anyone else.” You admit, your eyes looking softly at him, as you see him. Compassion in his expression, not the pity you were expecting.

“Well then, you do now.” Even if it wasn’t his intention, even if he didn’t mean to, those five words make you tear up for a second, gratitude.

“Thank you Eddie.”

“You’ll be okay” You had been repeating it to yourself since you had left.

When you left last night Eddie had muttered an invitation, he wanted you to come over, he actually said it like that, he didn’t make you feel obligated to come, or like you were an afterthought, or that you would be an inconvenience. He actually said the words i want you to come. And as ridiculous as that was, it had made you feel special, it had made you feel appreciated, wanted.

Though, now, walking through the cold sun deprived Hawkins to reach Eddie’s trailer it all felt a bit too overwhelming. Your fingers were tangled with a loose threat that the end of your sweater had, you had been anxiously playing with it for the whole walk, and you only had realized now that you were in front of his trailer that your hands felt cramped, and your throat dry.

What was weird, and somehow off putting, was the way your shoulders dropped once you saw him sitting on the porch, smoking away as he stared at nothing. You did notice the way his ears seemed to move upwards as his smile appeared as soon as he saw you, and how he nodded with glee as you approached.

“You came.” His husky voice made you smile downwards as you were now standing right infront of him.

“You said I could come.”

“No, I said I wanted you to come.” He reassures you once again with a sweet fond look, offering you the rest of his half smoked joint. You nod in agreement as you sit down next to him.

What you liked best about hanging out with Eddie was the fact that you didn’t feel the need to keep talking. Silence with him felt just as good as a conversation, it was comfortable, it felt good. Not the usual sense of being overwhelmed, but a sense of calmness, and heartsease.

“Heads up.” He whispered, his breath down your neck as he came close to your ear. “Steve and Robin are already inside cooking or well, I don’t really know what they’re doing, Nance will come any second now with the movie, and she’s not too… um fond- of uh… Well, pot.” He always seemed to mumble his words even more so when he was in such close distance to you, and if you were honest, the fact that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to didn’t really help your heart from returning to its normal rhythm.

“Um, yeah. Okay.”

“Okay.” He said as his eyes glared down for a second, you’re unsure if he looked at the ground or your lips, so the tingling sense of electricity between the both of you only had you have to take a deep breath, before even attempting to get another hit at the spliff on the end of your fingers.

“Edds?”

His eyes brightened up at the sound of your voice calling his name.

“Yeah?”

“What movie?”

He laughed, as he playfully bumped your arm with his shoulder.

“You’ll like it. Come on.”

You took his extended hand as he offered it, walking inside as you left the remains of the joint burn up on the ground.

“Oh I love this scene.” Robin whispered as the ball sequence started.

“Why?” Steve answered with his mouth full of popcorn.

“What do you mean why?” She pointed out, staring at the T.V in awe.

“I mean I don’t get it.” He teased back.

“Just look at it!” She said in a frustrated laugh, as Nancy gleamed at them.

You enjoyed looking at them.

Steve was sat down on the ground, with his back on the foot rest of the loveseat, who was invaded by Robin, who had her legs crossed so they wouldn’t bother his friend. Steve seemed to enjoy this kind of contact, resting his head lazily into Robin’s leg, as she petted his hair without really thinking about it. You're not sure why, but this, that ridiculous touch of kindness, that act of friendship warmed you, even if it wasn’t happening to you, it felt good seeing that two people could care about each other and know one another so deeply that they felt comfortable enough. You smirk, looking over at them, before turning your attention back to the T.V you realise that Nancy, who’s sitting down on one of the extra chairs, is also aware of the touch between them, though in her eyes melancholy seems to be more present, as she stares at the way Robin seems lost into the movie while mindlessly playing with Steve’s hair.

You can’t help your fingers from tapping away as the rhythm of Bowie’s song accompanies the scene of the movie, your attention focused again onto the movie, as you feel the weight of your left change as Eddie readjusts himself, his leg closer to yours, his head closing distance to you so he could whisper into your ear.

“You’re liking the movie?” You inhale softly as you turn your head to look at him, and your head backs up when you realise that once you had turned your noses where almost touching, you see that your breaths were mixing and that your cheeks were warm, you needed to get some separation to not stumble through your words.

“It’s my favourite one, actually.” You whisper back. A fond smile invading your lips, not really knowing why, not caring about it really.

“I guessed it right, then.” He teases as he winks at you, a soft chuckle escaping your lips, as you both look back at the T.V.

“You’re a lucky guy.” You tease him back. As you feel him nudging his shoulder into you playfully, your memory of last night makes you giggle as you whisper once again, but this time it’s you who whispers into his ear, your breath tickling down his neck, you’re unaware of the goosebumps you’re creating. “You should add some David Bowie onto that tape.”

He nods before speaking, his arm now pressing against you.

“Maybe I will.”

They had all left once the movie had finished, begging Eddie to remember to actually return it the next day, you stood up, trying to leave without anyone seeing you, but as soon as he looks at you, he shows you a little green bag, mouthing the words on me. You just nodded and walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water.

That had been a couple of hours ago, and now you were both sitting down on the sofa, facing each other. Your back rested on the outside arm, and so did his, faceing you, he hadn’t been able to stop looking at you. The no screaming for eds cassette was playing quietly in the background while he talked animatedly about his last campaign, and his band, really everything that came to his mind.

Now one of those moments of silence was in action, and for once you decided to move your head and look at him, really look at him.

The way his hair fell away from his eyes, tangled, messy but perfectly placed. Every curl intact. The T-shirt he was now wearing, since he left his jacket lazily placed against the back pillows of the couch, was faded, though an old or incredibly worn out DIO logo could be seen. The way that he had placed himself left his lower abdomen exposed, a small trail of hair seemed to connect his belly button to somewhere under his pants that you were really trying not to eye.

“Hey, hey… Are you listening, bud?” His voice, or rather concern, snaps you back, away from your thoughts.

“Mmmh?” Your eyes travel back to his, they seem locked into you, and for some reason that makes you slightly uncomfortable, your body hugging itself a bit more. “Yeah, yeah sorry, was just thinking.” He nods, as he readjusts his body closer to you.

“Do you uh… need to talk about something?”

“Something?”

“Anything”

Your head falls to your right, looking back at the ground, trying not to respond before being sure you could be candid, you could be true and not do what you always did. Lie and say that everything’s fine. Because truth be told, everything is not fine, not at all.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Your voice is now closer to a whisper, fragile, might be a good way to describe it.

“Hey… If you need to let something out, just… I’m here, okay?”

You’re not sure why, and you don’t care. That made your eyes well up with tears, and your lower lip started shaking as your eyes looked away at him, knowing that as soon as you make eye contact you won’t be able to stop yourself from crumbling down.

“Thanks Ed…”

And it was in that moment, when he placed his hand on your knee and gave you a small squeeze that you felt how your shoulders dropped as a tear escaped your eyes, leaving a salty trail on your cheek. You wipe it away, but not fast enough so he wouldn’t see it.

“I’m sorry…” Your brittle voice gives you away even if he hadn’t seen the tear, he would know just by the way you sound.

“Don’t be.” He reassures you, the grip on your knee now stronger and deeper.

“I just… I’m so empty all the time.” You confess, as your breath starts to accelerate, and you try to look at anywhere else that wasn’t him, the palm of your hand glued to your cheek now, dabbing away the tears. “I feel like it doesn’t matter what I do, or don’t do it doesn’t matter ‘cause I always fuck everything up, and nobody’s there anymore and that’s good, because if there’s nobody, nobody will be hurt by anything I do or don’t do and I just…” You stop, trying to catch your breath, and as you sniffle he comes a bit closer. “I’m sorry… that you had to um… sorry.”

“Please don’t be, I’m here. Anything you need okay?” You smile weakly as you finally look at him, feeling like you’re really tired of holding back all of the tears, and the sorrow that deepens your chest and makes it harder to breathe on a regular basis. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Can you… Can you just lie to me? Tell me everything’s gonna be okay?” You finally break as you crumble down. Even if he panics briefly he doesn’t show it, he shows no hesitations as he dips down, embracing you softly as he strokes your back, letting you cry as much as you need to, his fingers get lost in your hair as he plays with it, calming you down.

“It’s not a lie, because it will be okay. I’m here okay?” He knows better than to expect a response, so he smiles when he feels you nod. His smile deepens as he hears how you slowly stop crying, and you stop shaking.

It takes time, but as you calm down, and he lets go, you sit up again. His hands travels to your face, pushing your hair out of your face, whipping away the last tear.

“I’ll tell you what.” He starts as his thumb strokes your chin with an incredible amount of care. “I’ll go make you some tea, and then I’ll drive you home if you want.”

You nod, and stay in the couch, watching him walk all the way to the kitchen, you realise you feel safe for once, and not scared or vulnerable. It makes you see that you don’t want to leave, that you would rather stay here and not go back to your cold and empty flat.

And for once, you decide to say something, not ashamed, but calm, knowing that he won’t judge you.

“Eds?” You ask as soon as he is once again beside you, hot cup of tea in his hands, leaving it in your hands.

“Yes bud?”

“Can I stay here?” You see how his eyes shine as soon as he registers your question.

He gives you an upside down smile as he looks at you, deep in the eyes.

“I’m happy sleeping on the couch.” You try to negotiate.

“You’ll take the bed.” He says, his eyes darting around between your eyes and your lips. “You can stay as long as you like.”

if you enjoyed (I really hope you did), please reblog! I promise it makes a difference <3

119 notes · View notes

lost-in-sokovia · 2 years

Note

OMG I would both kill and die for August!!!! Could you maybe do a fic of Batman and Gordon finding out that not only does the riddler have a girlfriend but also a son? Thank you and I adore your work <3

so just for a little context i think this takes place right before for gotham, for august and this kinda would fit in the movie right before bruce goes to see eddie in arkham when everyone is in eddie’s apartment

let them be

tw: mentions of rape and kidnapping

bruce stalked around the cluttered and dimly-lit apartment quietly, ignoring pushback from officer martinez. investigators, police officers, and other workers in the forensics unit were flashing cameras, taking dna samples, and collecting any evidence possible as they carefully ransacked the riddler’s apartment.

it was a pigsty. a dark, dirty, creepy pigsty that somewhere could contain the clues bruce and gordon were looking for. moments before they had finally caught the riddler, sure, but their work was nowhere near finished. who knew what this sick man still had planned? who was he? what was his real identity? who was involved with his work? too many unanswered questions to be solved before the case could close.

bruce’s eyes scanned slowly over a stack of magazines, and he cocked his head to the side ever so slightly. “renewal” was scribbled out on the spine of one of the magazines. renewal. something all the previous politicians in gotham had promised, what newly-elected bella real vowed to truly bring.

gordon busied himself with little diaries that eddie had. an officer explained that they had found thousands of these ledgers inscribed with ciphers and codes that made no sense to anybody. eddie had random rambles in there as well, his words meaning nothing to anybody else. it wasn’t the first time edward had used ciphers, this wasn’t anything new to gordon. as gordon and the officer stood there, a woman walked up and announced they had gathered information from one of edward’s ids that he carried. bruce turned around to hear.

“edward nashton,” the woman read off quickly. “works at KTMJ, he’s a forensic accountant.”

“accountant?” gordon asked, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“hey lieutenant!” a different officer called. “are you really okay with this? what about the chain of evidence?” the officer asked, gesturing to bruce carefully paging through one of the magazines he had previously been eyeing. bruce looked up slowly to meet gordon’s gaze.

“you should see this,” bruce said lowly. just as gordon stepped forward, the woman called for him to pause.

“that’s not all, there’s more,” she said slowly. “looking into any birth records with the last name ‘nashton’ in gotham, turns out edward has a son. his name is august edward nashton, he just turned five in october,” the woman read out. bruce blinked and an eyebrow raised beneath his mask as gordon shook his head and opened in mouth in awe.

“god almighty,” gordon breathed. “this sick man has a son?” he glanced to bruce who looked at him with the same stoic expression. “do we have any information on the mother?”

the woman was able to read out a few basics from your information; your name, place of birth, et-cetera. gordon sighed and bruce breathed slowly, thinking for a moment.

“she’s not from here originally. i think she lives here with him, though. or at least in this same complex,” the woman continued. “i found a few things in the apartment that were probably hers, as well as a few children’s clothes and some stuffed animals as well.”

everyone in the small circle stood silently as more cameras flashed around the room. nobody knew what to say to this. how could a man so vile and evil be capable to love someone and have a child with them? how could anyone love him back?

“we can talk to the landlord, he’ll know about this woman,” bruce stated in his gravelly voice. the woman nodded attentively. inside, bruce was wondering if you had any motives or even knew about what edward was carrying out. how could you not? then again, what if you were just some hostage that he had treated terribly and got you pregnant through rape? though, he probably wouldn’t have taken you to a hospital if he didn’t care, so you had to be in a relationship with him, then.

bruce gave gordon a look, to which gordon asked if everyone could leave them for a moment. the group dispersed to investigate other elements as the two men huddled together.

“a girlfriend and a son,” gordon scoffed bitterly. “my god, who could’ve thought…”

bruce stood quietly, still mulling things over in his head. gordon looked up and glanced at bruce, studying his face.

“what do we do about this?” gordon asked slowly. bruce shook his head subtly.

“nothing. who says they’re aiding him or involved?” bruce asked. august made him think of selina. august didn’t ask to be edward’s son, those were just the cards he was dealt in life. gordon’s expression hardened and he looked to bruce as if he was an idiot.

“‘nothing?’ they are the family of a murderer!” he reasoned, his voice only raising slightly.

“but that doesn’t mean they have done anything. if he really loved his kid, he wouldn’t tell him anything to prevent him from being a target. as far as the woman goes, most likely the same thing. plus, if she was helping him in any way with these killings, she’d probably want credit as well as him,” bruce explained. gordon contemplated that and lowered his head. bruce hesitated for a moment. “nobody’s saying if you find her you can’t interrogate her, but i don’t think she should be arrested.”

gordon opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by someone calling for him.

“lieutenant, we found these in a locked drawer,” an officer explained as he dropped images onto the table in front of bruce and gordon. gordon dismissed the officer before the two men scanned the images, carefully spreading them out to look at more than one. some of the images were better than others, some being images that were intently printed out and others being images like those of annika’s, slightly blurry and taken by someone else or from cameras around the city.

there were pictures of you and a slightly younger eddie smiling. there was one or two copies of what seemed to be ultrasounds, bruce understanding that they were august’s. there were pictures of you smiling as your hair blew in the wind. there were baby pictures of august, his big green doe eyes staring directly at the camera. there were pictures of you, edward, and baby august all snuggled together tiredly.

as far as the other images, there was a more recent one of you carrying august through gotham as he leaned his head on your shoulder. there was even an image of eddie holding august’s hand as they walked into a grocery store.

bruce did not want to be run off track just because of this new discovery. he didn’t deem it worthy of the gcpd’s time, seeing as though it was unlikely you were aiding edward’s crimes.

“cute kid,” gordon admitted, his voice snapping bruce back to reality. “definitely looks like the guy, there’s no denying that.”

without waiting another second bruce piled up all the images once more, beckoning over the officer who had delivered them.

“put these back where you found them,” bruce instructed. the officer nodded without hesitation and was quickly off to follow orders. when bruce turned back around gordon’s jaw was dropped.

“just like that? you’re going to put those images back where they were?” he asked slightly bitterly.

“if the riddler wanted us to see them, he would’ve laid it out more obviously for us, or somehow hinted they needed to be seen. he’s been laying out everything for us,” bruce argued back flatly. he pointed to where the officer was walking. “those images were in a locked drawer. they weren’t meant to be seen, nor did they need to be. until there’s some sort of evidence to suggest this woman is contributing to his crimes, i don’t think it’s necessary we pursue this path.”

gordon bit the inside of his lip, staring at the officer placing the images back in the wooden drawer. bruce could tell he wanted to argue but didn’t have a better reason that bruce’s.

“you can find out about this woman for yourself and that’s it. we can’t take her away, this boy needs a mother since his father is locked away in arkham.”

bruce thought of the orphanage. he thought of the riddler growing up in the orphanage. this child needed to be part of the renewal that gotham needed, and bruce was not about to put august on the same path as his father.

bruce reached a hand up and firmly grasped gordon’s shoulder.

“leave them be,” he whispered threateningly.

bruce wayne has a heart bruce wayne has a heart bruce wayne-

197 notes · View notes

steddie-thirst · 2 years

Text

Diner Babe | Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader |

Summary: Eddie finds himself head over heels for one of the regular waitress over at Benny's Diner. He racks up a plan to get her to go out with him.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: None and of course fluff

I'm going to share this message once more just in case people have forgotten. I do not write my stories using (Y/N). I have instead chose to represent that using the name 'Belle' which stands for Beautiful in French. So just think of it as your a Belle and are being called beautiful each time your name is said. If you do not like the way I write my stories do not send hate please. - @Steddie-Thirst

Enjoy!

Greasy burgers and fries accompanied by the sweet milkiness of the shakes. Benny's Diner is the go to hot spot of Hawkins. Everyone would come down for a good meal, even the lesser crowds enjoyed a meal or two. This included Eddie and his band of misfits, who were currently seated at the back staring down the menu and figuring out what to eat.

While also thinking about their next campaign, pulling out all stops for motivation, "How about we rescue a princess?" Gareth suggests suddenly, tossing his menu down on the table.

"Yeah, "Jeff pipes in, brown eyes becoming visible over the top of his menu conversing with Gareth, "We create a dark sorcerer, get one someone to play the princess, and bam new adventure." Jeff and Gareth reach over the table to fist bump at their ingenious idea. They silently celebrate amongst each other, pumping their fists in the air and silently cheering.

Kevin snorts in disagreement, "That's a dumb idea." Both Jeff and Gareth scoff at the other member's dismissal.

"It's brilliant!" Gareth defends, prepared to argue. "Total foolproof campaign, dude."

"Exactly, and it will give us a chance to level up our characters and their hit points." Jeff added onto the arguement.

"Okay, yeah. That may be true guys, but the only girl in our campaigns is Erica and she's not a princess. So, who's gonna be this fair maiden you intend to rescue." Kevin defends his point, with the very damning evidence. Eddie was sitting in silence watching, waiting, and listening. However, when they decided to get a bit rowdy that's when he stepped in.

"Enough, guys." The other three went silent at their leader's command and Eddie smiled. "Now, I agree, Kevin that their idea is a good one. However, you two, we don't have an extra member in our party to be our princess. So, let's think." Eddie suggests to which the others nodded in agreement.

Before they could argue any further one of the waitresses employed at the diner skated over. Eddie followed by his colleagues turned their heads to face you, reading the name-tag ironed on the uniform. "Hiya, boys. My name is, Belle and I'll be your waitress tonight. How can I start you boys off?" You give a tight-lipped smile.

Eddie speaks up first, "Well first, can I get a round of shakes, 2 chocolate, one vanilla, and a strawberry. All the fixins', Sweetheart." He sends her a wink and you giggle going to write the order down.

"You got it, honey." You chirp, scribbling the last of it down, "Anything else?"

"On large basket of loaded fries, extra cheese-" Eddie pauses and leans over Gareth to get closer to her. You raise a brow, "-then how about you give me your number." You flush a bright red and with no response hurriedly scamper off to deliver the order to the kitchen. He sighs slinking back into the plush red vinyl seats and groans. "Shit, Shit, and Shit! That was so dumb!" He begins to panic.

Gareth shares a sort empathetic look with the others, they had to help Eddie out. However, towards the end of their little get together Eddie went to pick up the checkbook, only for a small piece of paper to flutter down onto his lap. Landing face up presenting him with a set of numbers, and a scribbled message next to it.

Here's my number, handsome! Call me <3

Eddie feels a pride well back up in his chest and he plucks it up off the table and smirks, "Well, it looks like I still have game." His mates turn to face him as he slaps a twenty on the table and prepares to leave. As the other members pile out of the booth and head to their respected vehicles. Eddie turns to look back at you and sends a grin, before skittering out the door.

So he called and you answered. "Hello?"

At the sound of your voice Eddie loses all sense of direction tumbling downhill along with his smoothness. So much for that Munson charm. "Hi!" Shit! That sounded to eager and desperate. "It's uh, Eddie."

"Eddie who?" You ask confused and sit down at the edge of the bed, holding the phone with your shoulder, one finger twirling the cord as you await a response.

"Munson." He replies, "You know, the freak of Hawkins."

"Oh!" You answer, not to surprised. "That Eddie. I've seen you around." You pull your legs up to your chest and shimmy back on your bed, getting comfy in the lushness of the many pillows lining your bed.

"Yeah, well. I really wanted to see if you'd go out with me." Eddie lets you in on his plan and it makes you giggle.

"On what? A date?" You ask, belly filled with butterflies and heart fluttering at the thought. Sure he wasn't perfect, but the little bad boy attitude really worked for him. He was so attractive in a way most men weren't, you could see him as being such a gentlemen.

"Yeah, if you'll let me, Belle." He was getting a tad bit nervous, but somehow the confidence he had in himself was growing. "I promise to be real respectable." His offer stands.

You giggle and squeal much to Eddie's delight, "I'd love to go on a date with the mysterious Freak of Hawkins."

"Aww, no need for name callin' sweetheart." Eddie frowns into the receiver, but it's lighthearted. Your words hold no malice. "So it's a date?"

"Yes, Eddie, it's a date. Tomorrow at six?" You offer gently and Eddie chuckles.

"Yeah, that's perfect. I'll be there." With that you hang up and Eddie turns to his friend Gareth who happened to be spending time over at his place to help extra with the new campaign. "I think I might have found our princess."

"Awesome!" Gareth cheers high-fiving Eddie as the man reaches for his notebook to go back to writing, but stops mid-way to tell him, "Oh and I have a date tomorrow with that cutie from the diner."

TAGLIST:

@yaspillz @dahliamae @munsonloverblog @off-phelia @strangerthingsstories5255 @fujiihime @shyposttree @damon-loves-pie @fanficfanatic204 @seratoninsickness @k0urti @thatlonelypieceoftoast @marianita195 @phantomxoxo @wittlewowa @buchanansbaby @rollergirlworld @allithewriter @555stargirl555 @gothguitargal @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @carol-munson @ali-r3n @letmebeyoureuphoria @cherry-omi @harrys-tittie @yearwalker96 @lipglossanon @thepastdied @brittney69

I think I an going to have a series of stories about babes that Eddie meets in different places and if you would like to make suggestions, I'd appreciate it.

#stranger things eddie #eddie munson #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things fandom #eddie munson x reader #x reader #stranger things season 4 #gareth emerson #eddie munson x fem!reader #diner #retro diner #stranger things babe series

96 notes · View notes

inkaddict1978 · 2 years

Text

It’s a gloomy day. The rain beating down on the trailer roof is the only sound present at the moment, except for the shallow breathing coming from the two boys snuggled together on the couch. Steve would really like to keep it that way, and he’s doing his best to not let on how the finger randomly tracing patterns on his belly tickles, but it’s getting harder and harder the closer it inches toward its destination. He knows when it reaches its target he’s screwed. “Something bothering you, Steve?” However nonchalant Steve thought he was being, he should have known that Eddie was aware of what he was doing. Eddie’s always aware of what he’s doing to Steve, calculating and purposeful in his actions, big or small. Steve has half a second to register the smirk in Eddie’s voice before he’s slipped his finger inside and launched a full on attack on Steve’s belly button. Steve shrieks and folds over on himself, not that it does much to protect him. He grapples desperately with Eddie’s hands, one focused on burrowing a finger deep into Steve’s belly button, the other squeezing Steve’s side near his hip. “Stop Munson, please.” Steve manages to wheez out between rapid fire giggles. So much for silence. The hand near his side makes a sudden detour up behind Steve’s shoulder blades, scribbling furiously, and Steve’s body reflexively arches backward, exposing his belly even more. Eddie enjoys watching Steve's mind wrestle with the decision of which requires immediate attention, and his belly must win out because it’s only a second before Steve is folding in on himself once more, cackling the whole time. He’s mouthing “stop” and “please” over and over but Eddie will not be deterred. Steve’s smile is beaming as he gasps and giggles, writhing underneath Eddie’s soft touches. And how could Eddie ever resist this? Even though his laugh is laced with objection , the happiness radiating off his boyfriend is evident. While Steve’s smile is magnetic, his laugh is a downright addiction, pulling him in with a gravitational force Eddie couldn’t escape if he tried. It’s intoxicating, and Eddie finds himself high off the endorphins alone. He imagines Steve feels the same. Eddie would ask him, although he doubts Steve could articulate a response at the moment. His laughter has gone near silent, his defenses slowing down. Steve must be running out of energy. He’s gone practically boneless, draped over Eddie’s arm that has stopped tickling in favor of rubbing more firmly. A belly rub, a peace offering. A silent thank you to Steve for allowing Eddie to do this with such little resistance. The room has almost gone quiet again, except for the shallow breathing of the two boys cuddled on the couch. Eddie finds he’s holding his breath, hoping he didn’t take it too far. This is new, this relationship, this being with someone that holds so much of his heart it feels as though he may burst at any given moment. Steve, always aware, turns to look at Eddie. He smiles, a tired, happy sedated smile that says “thank you” without having to actually speak the words. A soft kiss and then Steve snuggles underneath Eddie’s chin, sighing contently. After a few moments, the silence in the room is punctuated with Steve’s soft snores. Eddie wraps his arms a little tighter and drifts off to the sound of rain beating down on the trailer roof. Not so gloomy after all.

First ever Steve/Eddie fic 🙈

#steve harrington #eddie munson #tickle fic #ler!eddie munson #lee! steve harrington

53 notes · View notes

kitchenscene · 3 years

Text

four chambers buck/eddie (minor), eddie centric, an analysis of the diaz house, (home is about the people, not the space), 1.6k ______________

Eddie holds his heart in physical spaces. Frames, photo albums, ticket stubs. It’s less about the sentiment and more about the proof, evidence of the better moments, and a tangible reminder that they won’t be the last. He carries an old photo of Chris in his wallet and a yellow sticky note from Buck in the back of his phone case, scratchy, all caps writing — “Had to leave early, didn’t want to wake you up. There’s coffee on the counter for you. See you tonight.” — with a heart scribbled at the bottom. He carries his love outside his chest, but hides it in his pockets, under his shirt, and around his neck.

It’s scattered throughout the living room, his heart is in a comfortable place. The warm brown coffee table and throw pillows on the couch. Soft lights, lamps in every corner. An ash filled fireplace and charred brick, as if to say, “yes, there is life here, believe me when I say there’s life.”

[ao3 link]

Out in the living room, his love is most evident on the bookshelf. Loved ones held not by the hand, but by mahogany frames and canvas wrapped photo albums. Two albums, to be exact. The first is from Texas, from his childhood. Family photos year by year, some members disappearing, new ones flooding in, staying whether they want to or not. Some people who only continue to exist in these four-by-six slots, neatly encased in plastic, notes and dates scribbled over the back.

There’s photos of young Eddie cradling a baby Sophia, photos of Sophia and Eddie with Adriana spread across their laps, and a particularly memorable one of Eddie spoon feeding baby Adri ice cream when a baby her age definitely should not have been eating ice cream. First days of school, weekend trips, and middle school phases he’d rather forget. Newspaper cutouts of his baseball stats, team photos with trophies in hand, and senior pictures of him in his jersey. Team captain. He never really wanted it, but he accepted the offer all the same.

Shannon starts to appear around this time, prom photos together, though she wasn’t his date, just a friend of a friend with some sort of connection. Selfies taken on an old film camera from her mother, candid shots of Eddie, smiling, laughing, free, a side of him kept hidden from everyone but her. A few more photos strangers were kind enough to take for them, some strangers proving to be better photographers than others.

Another family photo, this time with Shannon in frame. Off to the side, attached only by Eddie’s arm around her waist, but in frame all the same.

A sonogram of Christopher before they had a name, engagement photos because that’s what they were supposed to do, and a single wedding picture taken from a courthouse bench.

Shannon still makes herself known in the last few pages, though her and Eddie no longer exist in the same frame. Her and Chris. Him and Chris. Chris alone. He’s off to Afghanistan.

Blank pages, accidentally skipped. A photo of him accepting the Silver Star he never wanted, added to the album despite his better wishes, alongside a handful of army memories he’d rather not look back on.

It’s in his heart, all the same.

The last few pages are filled with the only pictures Eddie took himself. Every one, every single one is of Chris. The time lost in those skipped pages finding its way back into the album, one day at a time. First days of school, weekend trips, and all his childhood interests coming and going in phases.

The second photo album carries his second chances. It’s not a memento from Texas or a gift he’d rather not receive, no. This one he chose all on his own. He chose Los Angeles, he chose Chris, he chose the 118, and with them, he chose a fresh start, a blank page. Family photos of a different kind.

Second page, third slot down, Buck makes himself known. He first exists in Eddie’s heart somewhere along the bottom shelf. Three, four, five pages in, Buck never disappears. In the firehouse, after work, trips to the zoo, he never disappears. Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, he never disappears. The couch, dining room, and kitchen, Buck never disappears.

It always comes back to the kitchen. Before there was a home, there was a kitchen and dirty dishes. Eddie washes the dishes by hand, one by one. Buck sits on the countertop, stacking dried plates, sorting cutlery in the drawers. He leaves every cabinet open — “it’s way more efficient, Eddie,” — and carries three mugs in each hand.

His heart skips in the kitchen. Flinging soap bubbles while rinsing plates, stealing from simmering saucepans on the stove, his breath hitches when Buck swipes a thumb across Eddie’s cheek, brushing away the suds. His breathing stops altogether when his hand lingers a moment too long.

New beginnings are also found in the kitchen, heavy palpitations bleeding from the sink onto the dining table. Anticipation exists between the tiles, melting the glue he’s used to desperately hold himself together. Buck plays music while he cooks, varying from swing to classic rock. On the good days he sings, out of key, but he sings. He whistles along with the guitar or the saxophone or velvety voices he doesn’t dare to replicate. Buck dances too, waiting for songs to end and timers to ring.

Anticipation flooded the room when he asked Eddie to dance along, a soft blues tune playing over the speaker. Hand to the waist, to the shoulder, hand draped in gentle hand. It was an easy choice; Buck leaned in and he leaned back, holding Eddie like he would never have the chance to do it again, kissing him like there was no sweeter air in the world. The first, “I love you,” was breathed against the counter, just above a whisper. “I always have,” followed shortly behind.

The brightest piece of his heart is held in Christopher’s hands. Rainbow carpets and terrariums, posters plastered on every wall, solar systems and galaxies hanging above. Buck pinned the mobile to the ceiling, Earth, Venus, and Mars dancing around each other, glowing as the room fades to black. The planets spin and spin just above his bed. It makes sense, really, that Buck would hang the stars for Chris.

Eddie didn’t decorate his room, unlike the rest of the house. No, the color, the light, the books lining every shelf, all chosen by Chris, constantly shifting as his interest wean and wane. He’s more than willing to provide, because who is he to deny an action figure on the dresser or plant on the windowsill?

His heart is full with Chris. His heart is empty in his bedroom. Everything Eddie has he gives to Chris. (Where else would it go?)

Barren walls and flat sheets. Empty walls, empty frames. Clock on the nightstand, a lamp on either side, nothing more. A dresser, a closet, it’s a bedroom, nothing more. Most days the curtains are drawn. Most days the door is kept shut. It’s best to keep this hidden, best to leave it bare. He had a rug once. Never managed to unroll it.

It functions as a space, that’s all he needs. Eddie sleeps, and sometimes he dreams. Sometimes he wakes in a sweat, sometimes his hands shake until he’s too exhausted to shake anymore. He resorts to self soothing then; counting ceiling tiles that don’t exist and pacing about the room until holes bleed through his socks.

Buck moved from the apartment to the couch, and eventually made his way to the bedroom. They started out two feet apart but always woke together, somehow making contact and swearing it meant nothing. Even in his sleep, he finds his way to Buck. (Of course it means something).

He first kisses Buck in the kitchen. He kisses him again in the bed. His bed, their bed. He sleeps with his head against Buck’s chest, this time with intent, counting beats instead of ceiling tiles as he sleeps, no sweeter lullaby to be heard. He sleeps through the night, no dreams at all. Buck opens the curtain when he wakes up. Eddie leaves it that way.

The changes are subtle at first, and Buck plays it off like it’s all accidental. “Your room has the best sunlight,” he says, moving plants from the kitchen to the dresser. The ivy cascades down the sides and the cactuses bloom in the new light. In the silence, his heart begins to beat again.

Buck covers his own nightstand with receipts and chargers and photos and reminders. “Printed this for myself,” he claims, filling a picture frame with him and Eddie and Chris, “but I made an extra copy.” He leaves it on Eddie’s side of the bed. It’s less and less barren each day.

The rug under the bed is a welcomed addition. Soft and full, Eddie doesn’t question where it came from. A mirror makes its way to the wall. He can count his scars in the reflection; two in the shoulders, one on the hip. Wrist and thigh, hand and head. With each day the sight is more bearable.

Buck ripped off the sheets, the dark navy sheets, and swapped them out for something brighter. He claims they’re softer, claims they’re more breathable, though Eddie knows the truth, the truth being that they’re lighter on his chest and make his heart beat even. One, two, three, he can climb out of bed each morning a little easier.

“Good morning,” Buck whispers, and Eddie, half awake, half dreaming, feels his lips brush against his temple before moving to the kitchen. One beat, two beats, three, he can climb out of bed each morning a little easier.

#nonsense plotless words but hey they're words !!#911 fox #911 #911 fics #911 fic #eddie diaz #the diaz house #evan buckley #christopher diaz #mine:911 #texas.fic

115 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Guns Ain’t a Plague

I wrote some version of this story over and over. This is the version I apparently emailed to a friend in 2013 and just rediscovered in my inbox. I am staring at this and realizing how long ago 2013 was now. Oh my gosh.

Background: I was already very much all about post-apocalyptic stuff, but this takes place in a world entirely unlike - and yet strikingly like - our own. In a world where war and disease once tore the land apart, an isolated, caged city of children struggles to survive.

Until one decides to leave.

Oh man somewhere in my stuff I have all my old maps and descriptions of the different countries and the war and... I wrote so much stuff for this universe/storyline...

The young woman crouched where the last of the road crumbled into broken stone. It had been crushed when they exited the city, taking their horses and carriages, doctors and soldiers and history, with them. Her feet were bare and she dug her toes into the warm red earth between the cracked rock. The muscles in her legs tensed, she placed one hand for balance on the ground.

She would have to run like wind if she was going to survive this.

“Don’t,” came Tor’s familiar voice behind her. She jumped up, wondering why she was even surprised he had followed her. She had, after all, been the one to teach him how to do it. She turned around, to look him in the eye, heart aching at the idea that if she didn��t time this just right, she would never see him again.

“Ed,” The boy said in the same pleading tone, hands held out to grab her, “don’t. You can’t even think it. You’ll die, same as they all do!”

Ed rolled her eyes and shot him a baleful glare, but she was bluffing and they both knew it. The toughness fell off of her face almost immediately, and she grabbed the much younger boy, pulling him into a fierce hug.

The two of them looked so alike that they seemed mirrored, almost, the teenager and the adult just barely ten years older than him. Ed’s skin was the same dusky red-brown as Tor’s, their hair the same rich black. It even hung in the same small twists, cut short and close to their heads, although Tor’s was cut a little longer. The only difference was in their ages and in their eyes. Ed’s eyes were a deep, rich pure brown, but Tor’s were green.

Ed thought she was somewhere near twenty-five; no one was completely sure on ages here. She knew Tor had been something like two when she’d found him; herself a ragged orphan, hearing him crying from two buildings over and simply taking him home. It was better than letting him die.

“I should’ve known you’d follow me,” She said, shaking her head. “And if you’re here… Jedder came too, didn’t he?”

“I run faster’n Jedder,” Tor said, clinging to her even harder. His arms around her waist felt like they were crushing her organs and she attempted to try and loosen his grip, with no luck. “Don’t die, Ed!”

“Won’t die, Tor,” she replied. “Don’t think I will anyway. How long they been standin’ there, those towers? Ten years now? Every gun’s got to run out of bullets sometime, right?”

“Not those guns.” Torrin gestured at the small turret towers stationed every twenty feet or so as far as they both could see around the place designated as the ‘edge’ of the city. Wherever roads had gone any farther, they had been smashed to bits until the towers were up. It felt like a river of grass, weeds, broken rock and bone surrounded them, surrounded this whole ruined city, a city that no living person had ever seen before it was a pile of ghosts and disease.

Ed, for a moment, allowed her grip on Tor to be as tight as his grip on her.

“Besides,” he continued with his face still pushed against her shoulder, head still tucked just under her chin. “who’s gonna feed us if you’re dead? Who’s gonna take care of us? You always take care of us, Eddi! Always. Since everybody died you take care of us. You can’t just stop ‘cause your feet got itchy.”

“Tor, you know damn well that ain’t why I want to try this time. We can’t stay here forever. This place is full of us, we can’t keep enough food to go on livin’ like this. It’s been over a hundred years since this city fell, by my parents’ reckoning, since they just left everyone to die. Left a city full of kids with a bunch of dead bodies and bullets, fat lot of good it’s doin’ us now. The Oracle and her folk may like this place, an’ the Keepers may think we’re stuck here carin’ for the dead, but I think… I think somebody needs to get out and prove we still exist.”

There were footsteps behind them and they turned, almost as one, with Tor’s hand still twisted in Ed’s shirt.

The sweaty, fast-breathing young man who came running up to them was not like them in the slightest. His skin and hair were the same flat and dull gray-white. Compared to Tor and Ed, his arms seemed too long, he was too skinny, his hands and feet just a mite too big to be human. His eyes were unsettling to everyone but his little chosen family; wide and far apart, set on a diagonal line in his face, they were black. He broke into a relieved smile at seeing them both standing there. “Eddi! Tor caught up with you then. He runs faster’n me!”

“That’s what I said!” Tor was entirely too proud of himself. Ed bit her lip to stop from chiding him for it.

Jedder stopped, leaning over to lean his hands flat on his thighs to try and stop gasping quite so much.

“’Course he does. Plesalka never could run to save your lives,” Ed said with a responding smile and managed to extricate her shirt from Tor’s grasp. She turned back to survey the turrets again. Old and rusting over time, evidence of Plesalka scientific genius, the kind of machines and creations that neither Letenje like Ed and Tor or the Teci had ever been able to match. Their last apology for their part in this before the Exile began.

She knew about the reason those turrets existed only her parents had hoarded the scribble writings of their own ancestors; her great-great grandmother had been alive to witness the Plague and the death, had survived long enough to make sure her children were as protected as possible.

In the end, there was only so much protection to give; scarcity of food and resources meant that no one had a very long life span here.

It was one of the reasons she was so aware of her need to leave.

“I’m going to try whether you two like it or not. I’m going to try on my own, got it? And if I make it over that rise to the other side, I will shut those turrets down somehow. I’ll bash ‘em in with one of those twisted hunks of metal lyin’ all over the damn place. Once they’re broken, you two can get over and we can leave together. We’re not gonna die here where they left all of us, thinkin’ we’d be gone eventually.” Old grief twisted in her heart; she’d lost both her parents when she was 12, when they had gone out scavenging and been caught in the middle of a battle between the old Oracle’s gang and other Scavs like them. It had been a long, lonely, horrible year before she’d found Jedder.

She crouched down again, curling her fingers around one of the broken pieces of the road here at the edge. It was heavier than it looked, warm from the constant rays of the sun. Even with the lean muscle she’d picked up in ten years of scavenging everything she ate she left out a small grunt of effort as she threw it straight at the closest turret. She missed by a long arc. The gun did not respond or move to follow the stone’s movement. “They’re gettin’ worse. They used to shoot the rocks, too.”

Jedder and Tor shared a look behind her back, unsure of what to do. Jedder, at fifteen, was still nine years Ed’s junior and Tor at twelve was a full twelve years younger. She had been as much a mother to them as a teenage girl could be when she’d found them. Jedder had been found first, a little Scav just barely staying alive by stealing from the gangs, unwelcome like all Plesalka were… Tor just two years old, crying inside a makeshift nursery, his parents dead on the floor and all their food stores stolen. She had taken them in, even knowing Jedder being Plesalka would make it harder on them.

No one ever stopped being angry, especially since in a century the stories to explain what had happened had gotten weirder and more elaborate as told by the remaining survivors. Even the truth made it hard to forgive either the Plesalka or the Teci for what they had created, what they had done in their war on each other… even if kids like Jedder were so far removed from those events as to be a whole separate people by now.

“Eddi,” Tor said, and now his voice was starting to take on a edge of nagging worry, “Eddi, what if this doesn’t work and you die?”

“Then you and Jedder go on livin’,” Ed replied without looking back at them.

She was surveying all possible obstacles between her and the turrets. Rocks. Weeds.

Bodies.

The last made her shudder, made the already roiling pit of nervousness that was her stomach threaten to riot up her meager lunch. Some of the bodies out here weren’t even bodies anymore. It was mostly bones left for her to look at, though now and then she could see evidence of newer deaths. Some kids still went crazy and made a run for it. She herself probably counted as crazy, just to be thinking about it. Still. There was a lot of bone out here. A lot of dead people dumped here at the edge to warn away anyone who might see them, to keep visitors out, to keep the descendents of Pohroma citizens in.

Barefoot, you want to run through a burial ground, she thought, wondering if it would be the last thing she did. “I’ve taught you both how to live if you lost me. If you think you can’t stick it out just the two of you, well, the other Plesalka that’re still alive would take Jedder in, if he went to them. Tor, you know the Oracle or the Keepers would have you. They could keep you safe. Don’t you dare join up with any of the Scav gangs, though.”

“We want you,” Jedder said stubbornly. “Besides, even if you died we’d just stick together. We don’t know any other way to be but the three of us.”

“Then you better be prayin’ to somebody’s god I don’t die now, because I’m going to do this.” She didn’t wait for their response but just launched herself forward with all the speed her legs could give her. Not being able to crouch down and prepare first had only cost her half a second, but nonetheless she felt a rush of fear that it would be a half-second too many.

She felt Tor’s fingers clutch the back of her shirt, but he couldn’t get a grip and she twisted away from him easily, running like the devil was at her heels.

There was a rusty shrieking coming from turrets that had been left abandoned, not repaired or even touched in almost twenty years. The sound filled the air, coming from nearly ten turrets who were all slowly, inexorably pointing in her direction as she ran. Birds, having made nests in the openings, took to the air in a sudden frenzy of wings and shrieking birdcalls. For a moment, the sky was dark with them.

Ed ran.

She dodged larger rocks and the corpses of both people and animals shot dead by the turrets. Dogs, rats, foxes, cats, people… all just empty bones, she told herself, trying not to let her feet even brush them as she went past.

She ran.

She caught a glint and looked up, realizing that she could see the sun shining off all the metal casing on the ground for every bullet these huge guns had ever fired. She was caught by the shine of them just long enough to distract her.

And she tripped.

She had to have tripped on a rock, she could feel the rough of it scrape all the way down from mid-calf to her ankle as she fell and went rolling, coming to a halt only when she hit another big chunk of rock a few feet away. The breath was knocked out of her and she could only gasp, frozen, realizing that the horrible groaning of the moving metal had finally come to an end.

She looked up, and was looking directly up the barrel of one of the turrets, and it was aiming at her. She could not move. She thought of her parents, long dead from the violence in this city. She thought of finding Tor at two years old, Jedder at the time the only one who keep the little toddler from crying all the time. She thought of how they had lived the last ten years as a family, kept each other safe. She thought of every time she had ever seen a wild animal gunned down by these turrets, ripped to absolute shreds by the bullets.

She flinched at the sudden click of the gun.

Click?

It echoed, bouncing off against the walls and back again and at least twenty of the turrets were clicking in a chorus and Ed began, despite the aftermath of adrenaline still pumping, to laugh.

The sound of her laughter was something just below a scream, hysterical and echoing, bouncing off against the old stone walls behind Tor and Jedder, making them jump.

It took some effort and her ankle ached in a way that told her this victory wasn’t coming to her without some price to pay, but she began to hobble back to Jedder and Tor, arms out to them, spread as wide as her smile.

“They’re empty!” She called out above the noise. “Every single one!”

Only a moment of hesitation, a look of pure relief shared between the two boys, and then they came pounding across the earth until they could throw their arms around her, the both of them at once.

“They’re empty,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Tor’s head, to the fuzzy twists of his hair, before turning to lean her forehead against Jedder’s cheek. “I knew it. They never did come back to replace ‘em, not since before I was born, at least my da said. They had to run out sooner or later.” She squeezed the two of them even tighter, then finally let them go. Reluctantly, they let go of her as well.

“Empty,” she said one more time, savoring the taste of the word.

“So we can go,” Jedder breathed out. “We can leave. I don’t. I’ve never been outside the city. No one has. We don’t even know if there’s other people out there or if everyone died in the Plague, if it hit other places, too.”

“I don’t think it did,” Tor said, thoughtfully. “Cause otherwise why would they have had to send people to keep us locked in by replacin’ bullets, ever?” Curling his fingers in Ed’s patched and worn shirt, he shook his head. “Bet there’s a whole world full of people out there. Maybe they don’t even know about us.”

Ed smiled, but it was a smile entirely without humor.

“Let’s go show the bastards we’re still alive.”

18 notes · View notes

theyarnmaidstale · 3 years

Note

"I think I killed him!"

"I think I killed him!" Buck exclaims, shuffling the cards in his hand as he tilts back in his chair, going over the evidence in his head. "Colonel Mustard with the candlestick in the study."

"Buck, I don't think you're supposed to announce that kind of thing," Eddie murmurs with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "At least not until your turn." "Says you," Chimney says, popping his gum as he scribbles down notes on the pad of paper in front of him. "I think I'm gonna make my final accusation, Mr. Green."

~~~~

{Send me the first sentence of a fanfic idea and I'll write the next 5-ish}

#ask game #first sentence fanfics #mistmarauder

3 notes · View notes

softest-cinnamon-roll · 4 years

Note

4 with reddie?

4. Teacher/Single Parent AU

* * * * *

Richie had been an elementary school teacher for five years now and he had had his fair share of crazy kids and kids who were absolutely amazing. Yet, none of them quite stood out to him in the way that Lacey Kaspbrak did. She was a spunky, yet shy little girl who was also very smart and could learn something on the spot. She was always willing to learn new things, even if she didn’t understand at first, which Richie was in awe of. Lacey wouldn’t give up easily.

One of the things that Richie absolutely hated though, was the way Lacey was bullied. He had reported it many times, even spoken to the youngster privately about coming to him if she felt unsafe, but she never did. Richie knew it was because the girls who were tormenting her were threatening to make things worse if she ratted on them.

He had even tried to catch them out in the act, but was either too slow, too fast or there wasn’t enough evidence to report the incident. It was all very frustrating, as they were eight years old. No eight year old should be bullying, or getting bullied, it was as simple as that.

When the first parent/teacher conference rolled around, Richie was more than ready to discuss the incidents with Lacey’s parents, to ask if they had noticed anything at home or if Lacey had mentioned anything to them about troubles at school. He had all the paperwork sat out of his desk when the door knocked and a man, no older than him, walked in. He looked rather flushed in the face and the first thing that came to Richie’s mind when he got a proper look was; Fuck, that man is cute! Cute, cute, cute!

“I’m so sorry I’m late Mr Tozier, I had to drop Lacey off and then there was traffic. I hope I didn’t hold you back too much?” The man stammered out and Richie’s eyes widened just a little bit more. Oh no, oh god no. This was Lacey’s dad? Fuck, this wasn’t good.

Regaining composure, Richie cleared his throat and shook his head, motioning to the seat across from his desk, “Not at all, please take a seat.” He waited until he was seated across from him and smiled, “Mr Kaspbrak…”

“Eddie, please.” Eddie interrupted, a smile on his own face. “I hate it when people call me my last name. Please just call me Eddie.” He rested his arms on the desk and took a breath. “How has Lacey been? I haven’t had any calls about her, so I’m assuming everything has been okay with her schooling?”

Richie tensed a little and he bit his lip, “I was hoping to be able to talk to you, not about Lacey’s schooling as she is the smartest girl in her class and is always willing to learn, but about some issues between her and her peers.” He watched as Eddie’s face fell a little and he quickly continued, “Have you noticed anything in Lacey’s behaviour since the beginning of the school year?”

“Not...not that I am aware of,” Eddie whispered, shaking his head, a pained look on his face. “What’s been going on? Please tell me, I need...I need to know what’s going on with my little girl.” Richie felt his heart ache at the sight of Lacey’s dad looking so...distraught at the thought of his daughter being tormented.

It took a few moments of composure before Richie began to explain the ins and outs of what had been happening in his classroom. He also explained that he had tried on many attempts to report it to higher management, but there simply was not enough proof. “She’s strong, Eddie,” Richie finally breathed. “I can see that she doesn’t want to let them bother her, but I can also see that it does. A teacher shouldn’t have favourites, but I have a soft spot for Lacey, and I want her to be happy in my class.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment before he ran his fingers through his hair, “Things haven’t exactly been easy for us...ever. I’m not sure if you were made aware of our situation when Lacey transferred here?” He asked and Richie shook his head in a negative. “Lacey’s mother didn’t want her when she was born, and I was with my ex husband at the time, we were young and naive and she was a friend of a friend. So we offered to adopt her. Everything went swimmingly and Lacey became a part of our family...of my family. My ex didn’t really want anything to do with her, and I soon found out it was because he was seeing someone else behind my back. It was tough, and ugly, but we got a divorce with me gaining full custody of Lacey.” Eddie took another breath. “She was young, but these things stay with you no matter what and I’m sure it couldn’t be difficult for the other children’s parents to find out Lacey was being raised by an openly gay man.”

That seemed to strike a chord with Richie, and he felt a little sick. Slowly, he placed his hands on the table and tried to force a smile onto his face. “Well, I certainly hope that isn’t the case, considering their children are being taught by an openly gay man.”

Eddie’s eyes widened a little and he leaned back on the chair, “I see.” He pursed his lips. “You’ll take care of her...right? When she’s in your class? You’ll look out for her.”

Richie nodded his head, “Of course I will.” This time his smile was genuine. “Put it like this, Eddie, if Lacey was to snap and actually hit one of those kids? I will just so happen to be looking the other way at that time, leaving no credible witnesses.”

That managed to get a laugh out of Eddie and Richie felt a sense of pride and he had managed to turn his frown upside down. “You know, Lacey talks about you all the time. I was honestly a little nervous about meeting the infamous Mr Tozier. She has never had a relationship with any of her previous teachers like she does with you.”

“Well then, it must be my amazing charm and my skill with sock puppets,” Richie winked and Eddie burst into laughter. “If you want...and feel free to say no, but we can always meet up occasionally. To talk about Lacey and her progress. Over coffee maybe?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “Sounds like you're asking me out on a date, Mr Tozier.”

Shaking his head, Richie leaned a tiny bit closer, “Not at all, this is highly professional. Anyway, I can't date the parents of my students.”

“Ahh,” Eddie nodded his head slowly before pushing the chair back. It was the end of the session and Richie had another three parent’s to see that night. “Well, I’ll think about it.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and grabbed a piece of paper, scribbling something down. His number. “It was nice to meet you, Mr Tozier.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Eddie. All mine.”

* * * * *

@3tothe1 @anellope @annxmatron @appojoos @are-you-reddie-for-it @beepbeeprichiellc @bi-bi-richie @billdenbrough @bitchbrak @callmechee @dadbodrichie @derrylosers @disneyfan567 @eds-trashmouth @eduardoandale @feldmancorey @girasol-eddie @gloire-celeste @halfway-happy353 @hawkinsbabe @inthebreadbinwrites @itfandomprompts @its-stranger-than-you-think @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @kaspzier @lifesucksheres20bucks @loserslibrary @losers-gotta-stick-together @madidraw @mars-14 @marsisaplanetyall @moonlightrichie @nancynwheeler @no-she-wasnt-reddie @oldguybones @pink-psychic @purplepoisonedgem @queen-sock @ransonelovebot @rebecca-the-queen @reddie-for-anything @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @reddiesetandgo @richietoaster @roobarrtrashmouth @rreddies @s-onora @s-s-georgie @sashadrowned @sedanleystanley @sloppybitchreddie @sparklingrainbowdragon @spirited-marvel @stellarbisexual @studpuffin @takeourpure @that-weird-girls-blog @thegoshdiddlydangdoor @thejadeazalea @thorn-harvester-ven @tinyarmedtrex @tozier-boy @tozierking @toziesque @trashmouthtozierr @twoidiotsinl0ve @violetreddie @virgo-luthie @wilding-throught-thehallways @xandertheundead @xcottoncandykatx

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #writing tag

216 notes · View notes