#more eddie fluff

[sofiiel]

Eddie Date: Love You Better

When he found you crying over the one who broke your heart two weeks ago, Eddie knew exactly what he was going to do with that extra Metallica ticket. "Sorry, Jeff, but this is a dire situation." He says over the phone. "I get it man, do what needs to be done" Jeff replied, hiding the urge to chuckle. His friend was now a man on a mission.

You'd gotten a call from Eddie telling you to get dressed, he had a surprise for you. Hearing the mischief in his voice, you'd decided not to question it and just do as he said.

Some wild plan of his, for sure. Probably some gathering at the hideout. It's only been obvious to the whole world you've been down in the dumps. But you could really use the distraction.

When you hear someone at the door, you know it's him.

Opening the door with a smile, it fades to a shocked gasp.

There's no Eddie, just a full blooming bushel of roses.

"Hey, ____." The roses said in Eddie's tone. His head pops around them, and he flashes you a giant grin. He's dressed his best and his fragrance wafts up to your nose.

"Fuck ol'whozitwhatsit." he smirked.

You choke back the urge to cry again and take the roses.

"So what is this Eddie?" you ask

"Me showing you not to settle, ever again." Eddie says.

Eddie takes you out to lunch first, claiming that you're going to need fuel for energy. Because, "break-ups totally drain you, like full zombie mode. Right? Build that strength back up" he says, lips stretching into a goofy smile, "trust me you'll need it."

From there it's a long Van ride, you know you're really in for when the sign ahead reads "Leaving Hawkins." You look at Eddie but he ignores it, still carrying on with the conversation and drinking what's left of his soda.

After Hours of driving with the music on blast, Eddie finally tells you to close your eyes. You humor him and go along with it. Eddie carefully fumbles around, trying to get you out of the Van. His hand firmly around yours.

"No peeking 'k?" he keeps asking, leading you about. You can hear excited chatter and feel the surrounding crowd.

Eddie stands behind you, turning your body in a specific direction. You hear many people cheer and shout, the place is roaring with one unified call.

"Open your eyes." He murmurs.

And when you do, through a sea of darkness you spot the bright huge sign "Metallica"

You can hardly believe it, turning from Eddie to the stage and back again.

He laughs lightly, "You needed to get away for a moment." he explains. "I figured it'd take my special kind of medicine to get your face to remember its world-famous smile."

And it does, as you beam at him.

Together you have a headbanging, horn shaking, 'my voice will be gone tomorrow' good time.

You leave in matching band tees that you changed into in the bathrooms.

Returning to Eddie's van, he's stuck rambling about the show while you two munch on the food you raided the concessions for.

He's so excited that he has you hyped as well. Eddie reenacting a few stunts his heroes did on stage while his words go a mile a minute.

After a while, he calms himself down enough to ask you if you'd had a good time.

You tell him yes, and it somehow leads to you pouring out every feeling you've felt since your break-up.

Eddie patiently listens and when you start to tear up he quietly takes your hand, giving it a solid squeeze.

"It might not count for much but... I need you to know you'll always have me." he says.

Eddie gives a gentle tug and pulls you into a hug.

"You deserve better anyway." he mutters into the top of your head.

You two spend many more hours simply talking before you look out the window and realize - the parking lot is now empty.

So the two of you make the long drive back home.

Eddie tapping a beat on the steering wheel, and you kicked back in your seat, humming to the radio with the windows down.

It's a mite chilly, so He lends you his jacket as a blanket.

"Welcome to Hawkins" the sign reads.

Your eyes are hardly staying open.

Eddie parks down the block, he wants to walk you home.

It's a quiet walk and on the way he slips his hand into yours. It's clear he's interested in you, but he's going to keep his distance, give you time to heal.

At your front door, He peers down at you with a grin.

"So did you like your surprise?" he asks you.

You look at him silently and for a second he panics. You can see the worry in his eyes.

Leaning forward, you kiss his cheek.

"I did, did you?" you ask him.

Eddie's mouth his clenched tight, his eyes screaming as his cheeks slowly turn pink.

"Goodnight Eddie, and thanks." you tell him, stepping inside and closing the door.

Meanwhile, He's still stuck in place, heart hammering away as he tries to remember how to breathe.

"I did." he whispers, a grin swallowing up his face. He turns and heads back to the van.

"Goodnight, ____." he murmurs to himself on the way.

#more eddie fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #bestfriend!eddie munson

[flowercrowngods]

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

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

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

“‘Ello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I do.”

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

“Like Dustin.”

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

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

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

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

“Any tendencies yet on the verdict?”

“Nope, they can’t decide.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who’s the life-sized toddler now, hm?

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

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

“It is, Stevesie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To come look at my new bed?”

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[eddies-ashtray]

eddie is practically hanging off of you, his arms wrapped around you from behind, dangling over your shoulders. one of your hands is being held by both of his near the centre of your chest.

it wasn’t a big get-together: just you and eddie, most of the hellfire guys, steve, nancy, and robin. though you’re sure a larger crowd of people wouldn’t have deterred eddie from any PDA when he had alcohol in his system.

though you’re in the middle of a conversation with robin, eddie begins to smack loud, ardent kisses against your cheek until robin feels she has no choice but to cut herself off to acknowledge it.

“-totally disregard the closed sign on the door and bang on it until steve gives in and let’s them in! sometimes they’re just so-okay, i can’t pretend that’s not happening right now, what the hell is he doing?”

eddie didn’t drink like this often; he liked a beer or two, but weed was more his speed. it seemed to slow him down, whereas alcohol tended to speed him up. which, considering eddie’s typical excitable pace, he really didn’t need the alcohol to become more sociable or friendly.

but tonight he’d probably had one too many; having far too much fun challenging steve and gareth to shotgunning contests. you weren’t sure how he kept it down if you’re honest.

you smush your hand over eddie’s face to push him away gently, his nose squishing against your palm. he whines lightly against your hand, disgruntled that you’d interrupted his kisses.

“he’s just-”

eddie redirects his kisses to your hand now.

“-just a bit tipsy, is all.”

robin gives you a pointed look and then casts a glance at eddie who’s now kissing down your shoulder lazily.

robin looks back to you, quipping, “‘a bit’?”

“he gets like this when he’s drunk,” you explain.“touchy.”

when eddie suddenly bites into your shoulder playfully, robin says, “okay, well i’m gonna go get a soda from the kitchen while you deal with that.”

once robin leaves you and eddie in the living room, you question lightly, “eds, what’re you doing?”

eddie smushes his cheek against your shoulder, staring up at your face from a strange angle.

“just love you so much, wanted to”—he hiccups—“to kiss every square inch of you.”

you melt a little at that, though it was extremely sappy and not what you were asking.

“no, i meant-” you turn in his arms and eddie stays attached to you still, his hands coming down instead to rest on your waist. “rest” is a generous word though; really, he was grasping the flesh there like if he didn’t hold on to you tight enough you’d slip away. and if you’re honest, you think he might cry if you pulled away from him.

the second eddie’s glassy eyes are on yours, you continue gently, hoping that he’ll be better focused once you’re face-to-face, “i meant when you bit me, baby.”

“y’smell nice. like sooo nice. just wanted to take a bite,” he explains immediately like it’s simple (and it was to him), and then his eyes go almost comically wide as he asks, “is that okay?”

smiling softly at your completely wasted boyfriend, you brush the hair from his face, tucking curly strands behind his ear. eddie never takes his eyes off of you, staring into your face with so much love and admiration that you almost need to look away for a moment.

“that’s okay,” you reassure, kissing his red-tipped nose. he scrunches it at you in response.

and then, because you think that eddie biting you is probably a good indicator that it’s time to leave the function, you announce, “i think it’s time to go home though.”

eddie’s grip tightens on your waist as he gasps dramatically, goes, “don’t want you to go home yet. please stay longer, wanna be with you longer.”

you think he resembles a sad puppy.

smoothing out the crease between his brows with your thumb, you reassure, “i meant your trailer, puppy.”

he softens considerably at that, and asks quietly, as if in awe, “my trailer is ‘home’ for you?”

eddie is bursting with emotion, feels like sunshine somehow entered his chest to allow flowers to bloom in the spaces between his ribs.

he can only hug you tightly. you don’t tell him that anywhere he is is home to you because you’re sure he’d never let go of you again if you said so. though you’re not sure that would be such a bad thing. you hug him back just as tightly.

-

pt. 1

pt. 3

blurb m.list

#eddie munson #yay more drunk eddie! #eddie munson x gn reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanons

[collectivecloseness]

Eddie thinking you’ve been ignoring him all day

Eddie Munson x Reader

(Tw: needles)

Eddie was sulking in bed, one pillow between his knees, the other crushed in between his arms, with his cheek flat against it.

Why hadn’t you called? You said you would.

Eddie Munson had such a crush on you. You were his best friend, but he really, really, really liked you... He had for a while.

You two had only managed to hang out for just under an hour yesterday, which was way less than usual. But since you had to leave to go socialise with your other friends, you promised to call Eddie today. ‘First thing in the morning’ you’d said, with the caveat of ‘if you’re up’, smiling playfully at him.

But it was now 3 pm and Eddie was lying face down on his bed, not even listening to music, or reading, he was just laying there, waiting.

Eddie had even called you four times today and no response, but your phone did ring. There was no way you were still asleep. Normally he’d just crawl through your window. He did that a lot. But yesterday you kept saying that you were ‘just tired’ when you two hung out, with the small time you had.

Maybe you didn’t want to see him?

Eddie clenched both pillows tighter, his body curling in on itself. He was always worried about this. Maybe people had finally gotten to you about him being a... a freak.

But no... you wouldn’t fall for that. You wouldn’t believe them, would you? You wouldn’t stop seeing him just to get people to like you more, gain back some of the social status you lost becoming friends with him.

But you said you were fine, you still had pretty much all your friends, who just scowled at Eddie and badmouthed him to you, but didn’t avoid you because of it. And you said you had your ‘true friends’, the ones who didn’t care about you and Eddie, and you said you had him! You said as long as you had that, you’d be happy...

Eddie rolled over, rubbing his legs together like crickets, before dejectedly kicking his bottom pillow off the bed since it’d gotten partly lost anyways, just squeezing his pillow tighter between his bitten fingernails. Trying not to punch it, because he’d been punching the pillow when it was curled against his stomach earlier, and he’d only hurt himself doing it. Punching the pillow didn’t make him feel any better. He just wanted you.

And then, the phone rang.

Eddie ran through the hospital doors, nearly breaking the automatic ones at the entrance, and he skidded to a halt at the board with directions of each ward, bouncing on his feet as he quickly read. Even though his eyes were slightly blurry from adrenaline, he could still read the large “4” meaning that your ward was an elevator ride up.

Eddie couldn’t give a shit about people staring at him as he ran through the hospital, crashing into every wall he took a corner through. It was a hospital, if there was anywhere people should understand someone running, it was here!

As Eddie finally thrust open your door, his panting breath finally became audible in his own ears, as he finally took a look at you. Staring up at him, in a hospital gown, an IV in your arm, but still smiling.

Eddie ran over to your side, but sat gently on your bed, carefully taking up your closest hand in his, avoiding the needle in it. And his deep brown eyes locked on yours. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

Eddie called you sweetheart sometimes. You didn’t mind, and he glared at anyone who seemed to find it odd until they backed down. And even though your mom had rang Eddie on your behalf, explaining to him that you were pretty much fine, Eddie still needed to ask you a million and one questions. All as he gently held you hand, doing all his best to not hurt you more.

You squeezed back Eddie’s hand, letting him know he was okay, as you shuffled further up the bed to sit up. “I’m fine, I’m sorry about all this.”

Eddie shook his head immediately, shuffling just like you did, but closer to you. His other hand stroking up and down the back of your wrist, holding your hand in his lap “No, no. What happened y/n?” Eddie looked down to your leg he could see clearer now under the hospital blanket. He didn’t even worry he’d be caught staring at your legs, especially in a robe that was a bit too short for you, because it was glaringly obvious he was staring at the big bandage wrapped around your calf.

“So basically, I woke up super early in the morning because I was feeling sick.” You saw Eddie’s body shuffling again, fidgeting, and you gave him a smile that was on the more humorous side of self-pitying, but still marginally annoyed at the whole situation. “But I was so tired, it was like, 4:30, and I only got back from Ellen’s at like 1 last night. So when I was carrying the bottle of medicine I kinda... slipped. And fell on the bottle. On the glass bottle.” You looked at Eddie pointedly, and his head tilted back as he got it now. But quickly his brown eyes went back to your leg, knowing what was under there now, his hand resting stretched on your knee as he observed it.

“Ew. Metal.” He commented, getting you to roll your eyes in agreement. “I know, right? You should’ve seen my bathroom, it looked like a crime scene.”

“You poor mom.”

“Oh she screamed.” You nodded.

Eddie sucked in air through his teeth, in sympathy of your poor leg, as he rubbed your knee.

“Anyway, so apparently the glass was pretty fucking deep, because it wasn’t enough to have stitches, I needed to have a small surgery.”

“SURGERY?!”

Eddie lowered his voice as you shushed him, not wanting a nurse to kick him out. His eyes were bulging out of their skull, shock horror on his face. “No one said anything to me about surgery!”

“It was a small one!” You promised.

“Is there actually such a thing?”

“Yeah!”

Eddie relented with a sigh, picking his head back up to look at you with those puppy dog eyes. His lip bitten in worry.

God, he was so fucking cute!

“But yeah, that only lasted, like, an hour. Not including the wait time, and the prep for surgery, and me waking up and all that shit. And then I didn’t get a single moment to call you or anything, because when I was up the doctors were testing me all day, just because I felt sick this morning. And they wanted to know if I was like, lightheaded, or dizzy or something, if there was any other reason I fell. At least they’re thorough I guess...”

Eddie nodded, deciding to just listen to all you had to say, his hand still rocking on your knee. Touch was very casual between you both anyway (minus occasional heavy beating hearts), plus he was just so glad you genuinely seemed okay. He thought. His head tilted when you finshed speaking, but he still thought that wasn’t enough, for his best friend who was literally describing their journey to the hospital. “...And??”

“Oh! I’m fine! It’s nothing serious.” You smoothed your free hand over the top of his, and you watched Eddie’s eyes go from still slightly worried on yours, to calm and washed over, over your joint hands. “It really was just an accident, and my leg should literally be fine too, the cuts were just a bit too deep for stitches. Plus it looked way worse than it was, I didn’t even stab any part of me inside, so no long lasting injuries or anything.”

“Good... Well I’m glad you didn’t get internally stabbed at least. Just a regular ole stabbing.” Eddie laughed out his nose, his smile only widening, because your smile got bigger when he finally smiled.

“Yeah, just a regular ole stabbing!” You agreed, now knowing that was going to be one of your inside jokes you two repeated all the time, much to the confusion of others. “Now I can join the basketball team, since my leg will be back to its full power.” You teased, knowing Eddie probably would have tackled you onto the bed if it wasn’t for you being injured, especially by the offended, yet very playful, way his eyebrows raised, and his jaw dropped in a smile.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll tell them all about your bathroom that’s soaked cieling to floor in blood. They’ll definitely think I’ve corrupted you.”

“The cieling didn’t get blood on it!” You rebutted, only getting Eddie to laugh, and you to join in response. Both of you rubbing each other’s hands, soothingly, but also self-soothingly. Just because you both wanted to. Because you liked being close.

Eddie’s smile stayed firmly planted on his warm lips. You were okay. You were fine, and you weren’t avoiding him. You didn’t forget him.

Eddie was the first person you’d asked to be called, when you got the opportunity for someone to reach the phone. You’d even told him you felt bad about not being able to call him, that you were worried about him. After all of today, you’d been worried about him, just because you couldn’t call? It made Eddie even more sure he was so right, for being so in love with you.

But you pat Eddie’s hand, with a tad more strength, just to show off how absolutely fine you were, and you even shuffled closer, so your thigh on your injured leg, was touching Eddie’s. “Hey.” You proposed, holding Eddie’s wrist to show he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ve been in hospital for hours, since 5 this morning. So I think the least you could do is hang out with me all day.”

#really happy to write more Eddie he’s my beloved boy :’) 💕 #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson hurt/comfort #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson drabble #anon #ask #stranger things #Eddie Munson fic #1.6k #Eddie Munson/reader

[libraryofgage]

Decided to combine 4 and 12 of the prompt list! Something about these two prompts was giving me major Addams Family vibes, so I rolled with it lol

If there are any other prompts you want to see written, lemme know!

4. “You know I’d do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything.”  

12. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Wherein the Munsons are branches on the Addams Family tree, and Steve finds himself the object of Eddie Munson's flirtations and devotion.

---

When the Munsons move in next door, Steve sits his brother down in the living room and says, "Don't bother them, Dustin. Wait, like, three days before asking for their life stories."

Dustin looks offended, to say the least. "I wasn't gonna ask for their life stories, Steve. I was gonna ask where they got all the bats and birds that hang out on their roof."

Honestly, Steve would love the answer to that, too, but that seems to be encroaching on the "life story" territory, considering the sheer number of flying creatures the Munsons brought with them. He'd been outside getting the mail when the Munson kids, a boy his own age and a girl Dustin's age, had opened a tiny cat carrier, and a veritable storm of black wings and feathers and screeching had somehow come streaming out of it.

The girl was watching them with a smile, and the boy turned around like he'd felt Steve staring. Their gazes met, and Steve's awkward wave was returned with the boy's eyes raking over him before winking with a grin.

"Look, ju-"

Steve's words are cut off by a banging on the door, the person knocking out a beat that he can't follow. He shoots Dustin a look to stay put before he opens the door to find the Munson boy on the other side. He's got that same playful grin and a plate of pitch-black...something in his hands.

"Uh, hi?"

Somehow, the boy's grin gets wider, and he shoves the plate into Steve's hands. "Heeeellooo, big boy," he says, his voice almost lowering into a purr that makes heat flood Steve's cheeks. "Wayne wanted me to drop off some of his famous arsenic and chocolate chip cookies. You know, since we're neighbors and all."

"Wayne? Arsenic?" Steve mumbles, looking down at the cookies warily.

"Our uncle," the boy says, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms as he looks Steve up and down again. "Don't worry, it won't kill you. Yet. That's a friend of the family privilege, at least, and you just ain't there yet."

It must be a joke, and Steve lets out a strained laugh. He balances the plate in one hand and holds his other one out. "Right, well, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Steve. You'll probably meet my brother, Dustin, later."

The boy takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it up to his lips. Then he turns Steve's hand over, brushing his lips across the meat of his palm before nipping. Steve jerks, yanking his hand back and holding it close to his chest, his heart beating erratically as the boy says, "I'm Eddie, my sister's name is El, and I'm going to have so much fun with you, Stevie."

And with that, Eddie turns on his heel and saunters back to the Munson home, which had been painted pitch-black (just like the cookies) at some point. Steve doesn't move from the open door, feeling a faint tingling in his palm, until he hears Dustin shout that he's going to let all the cold air out.

The arsenic and chocolate chip cookies had not, in fact, killed either of them. And, despite their burnt-to-coal appearance, they were soft and chewy. It had immediately put the Munsons in Dustin's good graces, which he happily proclaimed while Steve's head and heart were still reeling from Eddie's introduction.

In the following weeks, Eddie kept popping up whenever Steve left the house. He never overstepped, though. He'd appear at a distance, wait for Steve to wave or say hi, and then approach with that big grin with canine teeth that looked a little sharper than they should. Sometimes he'd offer more baked goods from Wayne (always with some schtick to them: eye of newt brownies, hag's breath toffee, cyanide and cherry pie). On one notable occasion, he'd offered a baseball bat with nails stuck through the end.

"El let out a demodog the other day, so you probably ought to be careful. I'd hate for you to get hurt by something that wasn't me," Eddie had said as Steve confusedly took the bat.

He blinked when he had processed the words and looked up. "You would hurt me?" Steve asked.

Eddie had leaned close, his ringed fingers ghosting over Steve's side and inching closer to his waist, and whispered, "It wouldn't just hurt, Stevie." His words had sent a shiver down Steve's spine, his mouth suddenly dry as Eddie pulled away.

And their interactions had escalated from there. With every meeting, Eddie strayed closer, lingered longer, spoke softer, and Steve couldn't escape the growing devotion and fascination in his eyes. At some point, Steve knew, things were bound to boil over.

So, he definitely wasn't surprised when they did at the neighborhood's annual Fourth of July cookout. Eddie had waited until El and Dustin were distracted by their other friends, checked to make sure Wayne was sufficiently busy with helping at the grill, and then kidnapped Steve to a hidden corner of the Byers's yard.

Which brings Steve to the present, the Byers's house casting a long shadow over him and Eddie so nobody notices them. The sound of other kids screeching with delight and parents discussing summer camps fades when Eddie leans in closer.

"You know I'd do anything to have you stay by my side, right? Anything?" Eddie asks, tilting Steve's chin up as he crowds him against the wall.

Steve presses back against the cool brick, silently holding Eddie's gaze. There's a stark seriousness to his words, and Steve can't help his curiosity about just what anything encompasses. "Would you kill for me?" he asks, his voice soft.

Eddie practically lights up, a feral grin pulling at his lips. "Gladly, sweetheart," he purrs.

"Would you die for me?"

"I'd tear out my heart and present it on a fucking silver platter for you. In fact, I can do it right now, if you'd like." A knife appears in his hand from seemingly nowhere, and Eddie brings it to his own chest only for Steve to stop him by grabbing his wrist.

"Then, what about living for me?" Steve asks, carefully taking the knife from Eddie and smoothly returning it to the holder tucked into his jeans.

Eddie leans in until their noses brush, his hand cupping Steve's jaw. "I wouldn't even dream of dying without your permission, Stevie," he whispers.

And Steve would fucking love to meet the person who could withstand Eddie Munson's attention and flirting and gifts and care and sheer devotion without falling head-over-heels for him. Steve would want to put that person in a jar, study them, see if their indifference is something he could mass produce. He's sure Eddie would be thrilled to help him do it, too.

"I have one request," Steve whispers back, reaching up and pushing his hand into Eddie's hair, warmth rushing through him when Eddie leans into the touch.

"Anything. Say the word, and I wouldn't hesitate to crawl through hot coals and broken glass." Steve has zero doubts Eddie would; in fact, he knows Eddie would be ecstatic to do it, if only for the chance to make Steve smile.

"I want one of the bats. And Dustin wants a demodog, but you better make sure it doesn't hurt him, or I'll make you listen to bubblegum pop and watch a Disney marathon."

Steve can feel the shudder that goes through Eddie, his eyes revealing a mix of horror, pride, and love at Steve's words. "You, Stevie, have perfected the art of making threats. Consider your two requests granted and me sufficiently...threatened," Eddie breathes, somehow managing to press even closer.

And Steve can't make either of them wait a second longer. With a grin that can easily rival Eddie's, Steve kisses him and begins to think of names for his bat.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #addams family #stranger things #i just love the addams family so much #one of my favorite aus to make actually #the way they love is so pure and unapologetically genuine #even if it's different from the norm of love and courtship #that makes it even more romantic #my writing

[dearharriet]

Standin’ on a Cloud; Eddie Munson ☁️

summary: your boyfriend eddie is a sweetheart, but you already knew that.

word count: 1.2K

warnings: fem!r, established relationship, fluff fluff and more fluff, nicknames (babe, baby, angel, darling, sweetums)

a/n: based on my favvvv song angel by madonna <3 i just want eddie in my room goofing around and maybe also kissing me silly :(

“My darlingest darling,” Eddie coos suddenly, buttering you up from his perch at your vanity. You glance up at him from where you’re lounging on the bed, reading a magazine. He’s been in your room for all of thirty minutes and he’s already trying to accost you.

“What do you want?” you reply bluntly, making Eddie let out a shocked laugh.

“Want?” he starts, and you know he’s about to be facetious. “Whatever do you mean, sweetums?” he teases, standing to approach your bed. “I only desire your precious time.”

You love the way Eddie moves. He’s like a dog that grew up with cats, slinking clumsily, if there ever was such a movement.

“You’re so full of it,” you whisper with faux sweetness, drawing a finger down the crease of the Rolling Stone you bought on a whim at the supermarket.

“Full of…what? Love? Full of love?” You laugh at Eddie’s absurdity and sudden closeness, his hip leant on the bed and his body folding in half to meet you face-to-face.

“Yes, of course,” you answer, “how did you know that’s what I meant?”

Eddie smiles lazily, his face slightly red from hanging sideways.

“Just one of the many super-boyfriend-powers I possess, babe. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ah, right.” You close your magazine.

With much less accusation, and double the fondness, you ask again: “What do you want?

Eddie squints like he’s not sure he can trust you. He decidedly crawls up onto the bed using only his knees, shirt riding up and arms flailing.

“Um,” he begins mindlessly, trying not to clip you in his fuss to lie down. He settles in beside you, propping his head up on his hand, eyes mischievous.

“I was just wondering,” says Eddie, "if my gorgeous girlfriend would do me a flavor and paint my nails for me?”

“A flavor,” you repeat with a small smile, pretending to read a headline about Wham! while Eddie’s warmth distracts you. Eddie hums confidently in return, like there’s nothing amiss with his word choice. Turning your head to look at him, your mouth curls into a grin. “What color y’want?”

Eyes alight, Eddie rolls off the bed, presumably to raid your polish stores if he hasn’t already. Your stereo is playing a tape that Eddie sweetly curated for you, with rock ballads and indie jams he thought you’d like, and you belatedly recognize the song playing. As Eddie sifts through your colors he absently sings along, shocking you.

“—can see it in your eyes, full of wonder and surprise—” His rich timbre takes the tune on effortlessly, like he’s heard it a hundred times before.

“I thought you were against Madonna,” you mention, watching his back. He looks up at you through the vanity mirror, cutting his singing off before the chorus. Realizing he’s been caught, he sighs heavily.

“Well, yknow I was, but I think I’ve changed my tune.” Distracted, he turns around, leaning on the messy table to properly talk to you. “Cause you left that Virgin tape in my van, right?—and I was just gonna retire the poor thing but…”

“But you liked it?” you anticipate, perhaps a touch too excited to have this one thing over him.

“No,” Eddie says awkwardly, holding his mouth in an o for a moment. “But!—you played this one on the drive to Steve’s that day and I, uh—” He fiddles with his fingers, strangely sheepish.

“You what?”

Eddie spins around, back in business with your nail lacquer. You almost don’t hear him when he shyly continues.

“I guess it sorta reminded me of you,” he admits, shoving his hair behind his ear nervously.

Your stomach churns with want, a honeypot of sweetness as your eyes trace over Eddie’s figure. You’re so used to him in your room now, despite how out of place he is—dark and moody against your bright and girlish decor. Perhaps it’s because your room has obtained some Eddie-adjacent additions as time goes on: rock records and DND game items. It feels good to know that you have the same effect on him, and you’re suddenly glad you left that tape in his car. The image of him singing Angel on his way to see you is almost overwhelming.

When he finally picks a color, the song is wading into the bridge, and Eddie’s face is still pink. Madonna croons through your grainy speakers as he returns to you—I believe that dreams come true, ‘cause you came when I wished for you... Despite his blatant embarrassment, Eddie dances on the way back to the bed, almost like he can’t help it.

“Well, that’s funny,” you say, finally wrestling out of your thoughts.

Eddie entertains you, shaking the bottle of paint he’d settled on—too quickly for you to make out which it is. “Why so?”

Confidently, knowing exactly what it’d do to him, you say, “I always thought this song was about you.”

Eddie is kneeing his way onto the bed once more, his bottom lip caught under his teeth. He doesn’t lie down again, staying on his knees above you, so you flip over to avoid craning your neck.

“Babe, I’m a metalhead,” Eddie reminds you seriously, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of you. He looks completely wrecked from your statement, but he’s doing a commendable job of pretending he disliked it. He says: “You can’t go calling me an angel or you’re gonna ruin my rep.”

Grinning, you push up onto your elbows to eat up even more of the space between you and your boyfriend.

“Well, you’d better stop being such a sweetie and making me mixes with Madonna on them, then.”

Eddie inches closer.

“But how else will I tell you what a doll you are?” he goads, and his breath warms your lips.

“Um…head banging?” you suggest helpfully. Eddie shakes his head gently so his curtain of hair tickles your face, making you giggle. He places an affectionate peck over your smile and then leans back on his haunches.

Sitting up all the way, you look to his ring-heavy hands.

“Okay, what color did we pick?”

Hesitantly, Eddie unfolds his fist to reveal a hollow box of glass on his palm, undeniably pink from the varnish it encapsulates. It doesn’t escape you that the exact same shade sits on your own fingernails. Looking up to catch his eye, you watch his face flush.

“What was that about being a metalhead?” you tease, unable to resist. Eddie makes like he’s going to get up and pick a new color but you jump to stop him. “Oh, Eds, I’m only kidding!”

“Do you think people will laugh?” Eddie asks, and he’s oddly sincere. You pull your head back, somewhat surprised that he’d even care, but then again, most of Eddie’s song and dance about non-conformity is just that: performance. He believes it, of course, but only because he has to—because he’s not like everyone else. It’s almost impossible to be impervious to judgment, and you also think Eddie might be more worried about your guys’ friends than anyone else.

“Maybe,” you tell him, not willing to lie. “But it’s just polish. You can take it off and pretty much anybody would forget the next day. Or you could flip ‘em a pretty pink middle finger, too, ‘cause they should mind their own damn business.”

A sweet smile curls onto Eddie’s face, his brown eyes melting and gooey. He brushes a quick thumb over your jaw as a thank-you of sorts.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “yeah, I think it’s metal.”

Eddie surges forward, attacking your lips with his own. The kiss is short-lived, one closed-mouth press, but what it lacks in duration it makes up for in sweetness.

“‘Kay,” he agrees, moving to sit against your headboard. “Make me pretty.”

Crawling onto his lap obediently, you say, “Can’t make you something y’already are, angel.”

Eddie’s face turns as pink as his nails end up later.

+

thank u for reading <3

masterlist

#eddie munson #stranger things #hugs hugs hugs and more hugs #sickening amounts of fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #stranger things fanfiction #fluff

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 10/12)

helloooo, here are these two messy cuties once again, i hope you enjoyyy

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: time is almost up but who could deny a good karaoke session?

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, sexual themes, slight angst, those awkward/cringey scenes where they're singing (i apologize in advance), and lots of mixed feelings <3

word count: 3.9k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

song inspo for this chappy hehe:

Steve and Robin love karaoke. 

Nancy had warned you that the friendly pair practically fiend for a good karaoke sesh, but you hadn’t expected them to be as enthusiastic as they turned out to be.

For some odd reason, the city seems less busy today, so you, Eddie, and Eddie's friends can take up as much room as you’d like on the sidewalk. 

In front of you, Robin and Steve are seriously debating what the first song on the queue will be. Walking just a few paces behind them is Nancy, who’s quietly taking in the city's bright lights; and next to you, palm burning a hole through your hand with his addicting touch, is Eddie.

It’s stupid, you think. The way Eddie has seen you stripped down and bare, whining and quivering for him at what could arguably be your most vulnerable state, yet you still find your heart racing 100 miles a minute with this soft gesture of holding hands.

Sure, you’ve held his hand before, but not for this long. Not in public when it’s not the heat of the moment and you’re simply walking around. It’s weird and new, and it makes your stomach twist in a good way, but fuck— you chicken out when Robin and Steve turn to face you, Nancy, and Eddie.

“Steve wants to start karaoke with Queen— like any karaoke amateur would.” Robin huffs as Steve rolls his eyes. You slip your hand from Eddie’s hold before either of them can clock the gesture, and you avoid looking at Eddie when he clears his throat.

“Because it’s the perfect opener!” Steve stresses. “Everybody always does, Queen, Steve! Plus, I’m not even sure I can physically pull through with how long their songs are.” Robin argues. 

Steve’s jaw dropped as if Robin had just said the most foul thing he’d ever heard, “Their songs are not that long. And even if they are, they’re fucking amazing, so what’s your point.” “My point is we’re not starting the night with Queen.”

They’re an interesting group of friends, you’ll admit. Interesting in the sense that you swear they could be a part of some sitcom with how funny and unpredictable their conversations and interactions are.

By the time you reach the karaoke bar, Steve and Robin have an entire list of songs mentally queued up, and they make a beeline to the DJ operating the music as you and Nancy snag a table towards the middle of the room. The bar is to one side of the room while the stage is at the front, and the DJ booth is at the back; the rest of the room is full of tables where people chatter, laugh over drinks, and sing along with whoever is currently doing their performance. Eddie had split off to get drinks the second you entered the bar, so it’s just you and Nancy as you settle at the wooden table.

“Are you going to sing?” Nancy questions from the other side of the table. You pull a face, shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, “I’m not sure, maybe once I get a few drinks in me. How about you?” Nancy softly laughs with a playful roll of her eyes, “Unfortunately, I doubt Robin will let me escape this one.”

As if summoned, Robin slides into the seat right next to Nancy. “I put you down together, but there’s a few people ahead, so start thinking of the song you’ll sing.” She gestures between you and Nancy. You shrug, accepting defeat, and before you can pitch an idea for a song to Nancy, Robin is leaning her elbows against the table and blinking at you, “So, let’s cut to the chase. What’s going on between you and Eddie?” She asks.

Nancy’s eyes widen as she instinctively jabs her elbow into Robin’s ribs, “Ow!” “Rob, you can’t just ask people that— god.” You softly laugh as Robin rubs at her sore side. “Sorry if I’m interested in keeping tabs on my friend!” Robin sarcastically argued.

Nancy rolls her eyes and sends you an apologetic look. “Look, I’m just guessing— based on the fact that you two were in the back of a fancy restaurant— that something is going on. Oh— unless this is, like, a business thing, then you can totally ignore me.” Robin rambles.

“Robin,” Nancy stresses. Your cheeks seem to ache from the amused expression on your face as Nancy turns to you, “You don’t have to answer either way since it’s none of our business.” She says, voice raising near the end as she glares at Robin. Robin rolls her eyes, and you laugh with a shake of your head as you shift in your seat. “No, it’s fine, I understand, but um,” You shrug, “It’s just a business thing.” You finally answer.

And, technically, you’re not wrong. There is a business transaction going on between you and Eddie… and the rest of the band, which is primarily the basis of your relationship, but you’re not sure how appropriate it would be to say, ‘Yeah, I mean, Eddie hated me, but now he doesn’t, so then we fucked yesterday but then his manager basically told us to squash whatever that was, so now we’re kind of in a weird spot because we don’t hate each other but we can’t like each other. Oh yeah, and here’s the kicker, Eddie’s been a total asshole this entire time, and it’s fucked with my head a bit. But apparently, he wants to change!’

It’s a colorful mess of loopholes and twists and turns that probably nobody will fully understand aside from you and Eddie, so…. business thing it is. 

Robin seems to take that as an answer, but Nancy is now intrigued by your tone, “That didn’t sound very sure.” She playfully raises a suggestive eyebrow. Robin hums, “What happened to it being none of our business?” She points out, to which Nancy just waves a dismissive hand in response. “It’s a business thing, but…” Nancy prods. Your face warms as you lift your shoulders in a shrug, “I mean, it’s… it’s complicated.” 

Nancy nods with a shrug as she shifts in her seat, “So, how did you two meet?” 

You take a deep breath as you lean to rest your elbows on the table, “Well, I’m a writer for Rolling Stone magazine—” Robin gasps, grabbing your attention, “No shit? Nancy’s a journalist too— ow!” She turns to look at Nancy with a disgruntled look as she rubs her thigh, “Would you stop bullying me?” She frowns.

Before either of them can get far into bickering, Eddie and Steve come waltzing back to the table with drinks in their hands. Eddie snags a seat beside you and passes a drink to you; you smile as you gratefully take the glass and softly thank him. Steve plops down next to Robin, sliding her and Nancy their drinks as he says, “Alright, I hope everyone has their songs picked out because I plan on battling each and every one of you.”

Although the weather outside is on the more chilly side of summer days, you find your body warm with liquor and laughter as you, Nancy, and Eddie watch a tipsy pair of Steve and Robin sing a surprisingly good rendition of Huey Lewis’ Heart and Soul. You’ve shrugged off your sweater and tossed it over the back of your chair— and you’re thankful to have thrown on a tank top underneath because, most of the time, you hardly bother to wear anything beneath sweaters.

It’s their fourth song of the night, Eddie and Nancy have both gone up at least once, but you’ve been on the observant side mostly, enjoying the ongoing conversations you’ve had with Nancy. There’s a bowl of chips and salsa in the middle of the table, and Eddie’s arm is draped across the back of your chair, heat pouring from him and seeping all around to wrap you up in an Eddie-scented bubble— it’s nicer than you’d care or like to admit.

Nancy has turned around to watch and cheer on the performance; she’s become more animated and loose after a few drinks, and you laugh as Robin practically serenades her from the stage. You lean back in your chair, softly giggling as you slightly lean into Eddie, “So,” you grab your drink and glance at the boy on your side, “What’s the dynamic here?” You ask with a jut of your chin towards his friends.

Eddie hums, leaning further into his chair, and in turn, pressing himself closer to you. His breath is warm against your ear and cheek, curly strands brushing against your skin as he speaks, “So basically,” He dramatically sighs, and you smile at his dramatics as he gestures between his friends, “Nancy and Steve are exes from high school and Robin and Steve are best friends.” You nod, gaze darting between the friends as you connect the dots. “But,” He raises a finger over his glass, “Robin and Nancy are dating now.” Your eyebrows raise at the full circle of events, but you nod as your suspicions are finally confirmed. 

Eddie leans closer, voice dropping to a lower volume, “But at this rate, it’s safe to say Nancy’s playing third wheel for Steve and Rob since they practically share one brain cell.” You tilt your head, “Okay, I see it now.”

Nancy glances over her shoulder to glare at you and Eddie from her seat, “I heard that, assholes… you’re not wrong.” She grumbles. You and Eddie laugh as she turns back to face you both now that Steve and Robin are hopping off the stage.

“Steve’s actually seeing a girl now; she’s in nursing school.” Nancy pipes up, grabs a chip, and pops it into her mouth. Eddie leans forward at that, keeping his arm on your chair as he uses the other to grab a chip for himself,  “Nursing school?”

Nancy nods as she sips her drink, “He goes down to see her like every other weekend. And they run our phone bill up like hell.” 

Robin plops down into her seat, “What are we talking about? Steve’s hot nurse babe?” She asks, humming when Nancy nods. Robin scoffs as she turns to Eddie, “Can you believe they’ve been dating for, like, four months, and we have yet to even see a picture of her? They see each other every week!”

Eddie snorts, “Then who’s he talking to on the phone?” Robin shrugs, “Who knows at this point.”

Steve returns as if on cue, sitting down with a sigh as he glances at the table, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, just talking about your imaginary girlfriend.” Robin teases.

Steve groans, eyes rolling before glaring at his giggling friends— your cheeks hurt from smiling. “She’s real, okay? She’s real, and her name is Cassie, and the only reason you haven’t met her yet is because she’s literally in nursing school— she has a busy schedule!”

And although you wish Eddie and you had been able to finish your discussion without the abrupt interruption, you find yourself growing fond of this shade of Eddie— sure, you’ve seen him having fun and being unapologetically himself with Gareth and Jeff and even on stage, but this side of Eddie is softer— kinder, brighter— homey. 

You realize as you watch him singing his heart out to some mainstream pop song that Steve somehow talked him into doing. You’re more surprised that Eddie knows the lyrics, but you’re too tipsy to dwell on it because Nancy’s scooting onto the chair beside you and asking what song you two should sing because, “We have to outsing them, obviously.”

And, well, you hardly have the time to stop your lips before you lean in and tell her the song you’d like to sing. Nancy snickers, giggling at the obvious undertone of the chosen song, and she eagerly agrees because “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You go back and forth on who will take which role— who will sing Tom Petty’s key, and who will sing Stevie Nicks's key— but then you eventually land on just singing together for the entirety of the song. When the boys finish their song, Nancy drags you up to the DJ to request the song and magically persuades him to let you skip the queue of people to go next. She’s a good flirt, that’s indisputable.

You should probably thank Nancy at some point for agreeing to this song regardless of how little information she has about your situationship with Eddie, but before you even get the chance to, you and Nancy are already singing the first line of the song— Baby, you'll come knocking on my front door. Same old line you used to use before— and well, Eddie’s head has never turned his head faster, but you avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

And you’re doing good; you’re doing so good, and then you get to the second chorus and lock eyes with Eddie as you sing along to the track with Nancy— Baby, you could never look me in the eye. Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the world. Stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my heart around— and, well… you think you made your point clear.

You and Nancy have a blast singing to Nicks and Petty, and when the song ends, the bar claps and cheers as they do after every performance, and you’re all smiles as you waltz back to the table, sitting next to the fidgeting boy you’d just indirectly serenaded. Steve and Robin are telling you and Nancy how well you did and teasing each other over specific parts of the performance, and they’re all so caught up in one another that they hardly notice as Eddie leans into your space, voice low and gravely as he speaks, “That was cruel, princess.”

You look at him, eyes falling to the ghost of a smirk that dances across his lips before you reach forward to grab your drink, wrapping your lips around the thin, black straw, maintaining eye contact as you shrug, “Did you get the hint?” You tease.

Eddie huffs around a laugh, shifting in his seat, left arm back to barricading the back of your chair, and you don’t fail to notice the tent in the crotch of his jeans. He rolls his tongue over his teeth, snickering when you raise an eyebrow, “Yeah… Yeah, I got the hint.” He nods, and you think you might see a pink tint dusting across his cheeks.

You smile, liquor making you bold as you blink up at him, “Good.”

It’s a long trip to the hotel with a pair of drunk best friends.

They ramble a lot— Steve and Robin— you come to find out, and Nancy and Eddie have become experts at handling them with ease. You realize this as you watch them get their friends tucked into bed. Nancy is tipsy, but Eddie informed you that she has a weird thing with tequila where she becomes highly functioning, so she’s moving about the room with grace and precision.

When the drunk pair is finally tucked into bed, Nancy walks you and Eddie to the door of the hotel room, thanking you for taking the time to make sure they got in safe. “I would say see you at breakfast, but I doubt these two will have crawled from the grave by then.” Nancy gestures back to Robin and Steve. 

You don’t blame them; they’re basically on holiday, and you would do the same.

Your and Eddie’s rooms are on a different floor, and it’s a long ride up to the top, especially with the burning desire for one of you to say something— what, you’re not sure.

“I like your friends.”

That was you talking, you realize when Eddie turns to you with a smirk, “Yeah? They didn’t scare you off with their incessant shithead behavior?” He jokingly questions. You hum with a laugh, “I’ve dealt with worse.” You tease.

Eddie walks you to your room, his intoxicating smell and presence hovering around you as you unlock the door before stepping in. You turn around, hand resting on the edge of the door as you look at the curly-haired boy, “Good night, Eddie.”

Eddie hums, leaning against the door frame, eyes flickering to the twist of your mouth before reaching your eyes again, “Not gonna finish our conversation?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I hardly believe you’d be doing much talking if I let you in right now.” And you don’t think you’re ready to travel down that path again. Not so soon when you have the events of tonight to digest, not to mention the gift sitting in your bag.

Eddie shrugs with a small smirk, “I can multitask.”

His gentle smile is beautiful. Alluring and unique, and his eyes are taking you with such an intensity that you think you might melt if you stay a minute longer. “I didn’t choose that song for the hell of it, you know?” You ask. “Stevie’s got a mean fucking range. Lord knows if I’ll be covering her again.” You grumble. And really, how high can the woman go with her rasp?

Eddie laughs, turning his head and glancing at the empty hallway before looking back to you, “Yeah, I know,” He softly replies.

You nod and he takes a deep breath, nodding towards your bag slung over your shoulder, “Listen to the tape.” He reminds you.

You tilt your head, clenching the strap of your bag before speaking, “Are you under the impression that this would make up for everything?” You ask.

And you don’t mean for it to sound harsh or hurt his feelings, but you have to let him know that if that’s what he’s hoping, then he’s wrong. This doesn’t fix everything. This doesn’t fix the confused feelings and the harsh words. It’s a start, but it’s not a finish as well.

And although Eddie’s expression falters, he shakes his head, “No. But I still want you to listen.”

You nod quietly, gazing at each other and wishing you could start on a different foot. You clear your throat, straighten your stance, and step back. “Good night, Eddie.” You softly say.

By the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, the only thing running on your mind is the pending need to sleep. The maids had changed out the seats so they’re not doused with the ghost of Eddie’s cologne and shampoo— but you don’t go long with Eddie out of your mind because there’s a hard object that pokes into your arm when you settle into the bed.

You groan, twisting your arm around your frame to dig out the small object from below you, and when your fingers wrap around the plastic case, you immediately remember the task you’d had for tonight— listen to the tape.

The sleep that weighed down on your body is suddenly gone as you sit up to grab your walkman and headphones before settling back into the comfy sheets.

You try your best to ignore the swirling feeling of nerves and excitement in your gut as you put on your headphones and slip the tape in, but you find yourself nipping at the skin of your nails as the tape winds either way.

It’s silent for a moment, the sound of shuffling and the soft thud of what you think might be someone setting a glass down. There’s a clearing of a throat— it’s Eddie, you can tell— and your stomach twists in anticipation at the first ring of a piano chord. 

The beginning chords are soft and slow, gentle enough to lull you to sleep if you sink into it, and the recording is so vivid that you can hear the dull thud of each key beneath the press of his fingers.

Your heart races when Eddie’s voice seeps into the melody. It’s a ballad, something Corroded Coffin doesn’t have much of, and you wonder why because the softness of Eddie’s voice is arguably one of the most heavenly sounds to have ever touched your ears.

I'm feeling a way, off some kinda drug

Maybe it's lust, maybe it's love

I know I said I'd straighten out a week ago

I'm fiending though, 'bout to reach my peak, you know

The city's got me falling now

It’s… fuck, it’s fucking good, and you haven’t even gotten to the chorus, but god, your heart skips a beat at the following line because it’s a direct callout to you.

I'm fading away, I'm losing my head

I know you said leave, but fuck what you said

As much as you wish you could say you hate it… you don’t.

Even though the song is about you and your twisted relationship with Eddie— which definitely aids to your feelings towards the track— it’s genuinely a good song. Which, okay, is slightly annoying, but you can’t find it in yourself to care as the song carries on.

The future's never looked so bright, it's blinding me

It's hard to see, I'm swimming through dopamine

Your body looks like heaven and

I wanna give up, I just wanna leave

I'm floating away, I'm caught in the breeze

The outro of the song comes and slows down, a softer sound than before filling your ears, and shit— you’re at the edge of your seat now because Eddie is singing so gently, and it has your mind swirling. 

I can't believe this is happening

What did I do? What did she do to me?

…

Mending my brain again

Please don't give up on me

This hurts tremendously

How will this end for me?

When the song dies off, you can hear shuffling again before the track ends, and you’re left with spinning thoughts as you take your headphones off and let the silent and dark room envelope you.

You have to take a moment, yanking the string of the bedside lamp to light up the room so you can see your thoughts more clearly because— how do you feel? You’re not sure, honestly, and the thud of your heart beating in your chest only clouds your judgment even more because— isn’t this what you asked for? For Eddie to be open and honest with you, to tell you his true feelings and where he’s at when it comes to you. And is it enough?

Would it ever be enough for Eddie to give you one simple, stripped-down track to allow him the chance to mend what he’d ruined? 

Your heart wants it to be enough, but realistically, it’s not. Eddie has only just begun his journey to forgiveness, and you have to remind yourself that it’s not wrong to be hesitant to let him in, neither is it bad for you to want him as badly as you do. You’re both learning, and you’re both trying to fix the damage that’s been done, and it might take time, but if you both want it— if Eddie really wants you— then the time and work it takes to fix things won’t be a bother.

You listen to the song two more times, maybe more than twice, and you let the words sink into your bones until you practically have it engraved into your mind, lulling yourself to sleep with the haunting echo of Eddie’s voice and words bouncing in the walls of your skull.

And in your dreams, you meet Eddie, and for the split second you have with him there, everything is perfect— and by the time you wake up, the ticking time bomb to make your choice is now louder than it’s ever been before.

————

part eleven

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a/n: OMG HIII, you made it to the end again !!! i would just like to specify that the song eddie has written and sang for birdie in this chappy (23 x chase atlantic) is not entirely a nod towards their relationship! reader is not specifically 23 years old nor is she struggling with any type of substance abuse, the lines that were used in this chapter are the lines that actually adhere to them imo, OKAY I THINK U GET IT I'LL SHUT UP NOW.

also, this is not the last of the songs that eddie has written abt birdie btw🫣

i hope u enjoyed and i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 AND AS ALWAYS, TY FOR READING, I LOVE U SO BIG MWAH <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

#WOOOO #TWO MORE CHAPPIES TO GO GUYS HEHEHE #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson au #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie x fem!reader #stranger things au #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader #journalist!reader #Spotify

[steddieas-shegoes]

always you

wanted to wish @rozzieroos a very happy birthday! you've been so supportive of me since the beginning and it makes a world of difference to someone who is always just a bit nervous to share the things they write. i am unfortunately not a very crafty bitch, so i can't return the friendship bracelet favor right now, but i hope this is a nice little sappy gift for ya! sending you big hugs and all my love 💕 - mickala

rated t | 1,324 words | no cw | tags: fluff, established relationship, the most miniscule hurt and almost entirely comfort, boys in love, side platonic stobin stuff but robin isn't technically there

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Steve always had an adrenaline crash after a visit from Robin. The first time it happened, Eddie was convinced they would have to move to Boston just so Steve could get out of the funk. Luckily, they figured out what to do after a couple of days.

And every time it's happened since, they manage to get him out of it pretty quickly.

But this time seemed worse, and Eddie wasn't sure why.

As far as he could tell, everything about the visit was normal. Robin came for a long weekend, they all went to dinner together the first night, Eddie had to work on Saturday so Steve and Robin had their fun together. Sunday, they all went to brunch together before dropping her off at the airport.

And Steve was fine! That evening he was cooking dinner and dancing to music while Eddie wrote some notes for a campaign he was running with work buddies. They ate together and Eddie did the dishes while Steve went through his nightly routine of locking up.

They even gave each other blowjobs in the shower.

But this morning, as soon as Eddie opened his eyes and smelled the bleach, he knew it was bad.

He sat up and looked out the open bedroom door.

"Fuck."

He got up quickly, throwing on the closest pair of pants he could find, probably Steve's since they felt baggier than his own, and made his way down the hall to the bathroom.

Steve was on his knees, scrubbing the shower like it personally offended him.

"Hey sweetheart, everything okay?" He asked hesitantly.

"Fine," Steve answered, clearly very far from fine.

Eddie sighed and sat on the closed toilet lid. "Stevie, it's okay if you wanna have a sad day. I know it's hard when Robin goes back home. I'm off today so we can just relax in bed if you want."

Eddie would never tell Steve that the reason he was off was because as soon as he knew when Robin was going back home, he'd requested the day off to be here for Steve.

"I don't need a sad day. I'm fine."

"Yeah, that's why you've scrubbed the shower until it's literally sparkling at way too early in the morning," Eddie reached out and covered his shoulder. "It's okay to miss her. I know it's hard."

Steve stopped scrubbing.

Eddie prepared for what was likely to be a very ugly and loud sob.

Steve turned to him with his lips quivering and eyes watery.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie said as he got on the floor with Steve and pulled him into his lap. "It's gonna be alright. We're gonna visit her next month, remember?"

"I know," Steve said against his shoulder, voice wobbling like he was still holding back tears. "I just don't wanna keep doing this."

"What?"

"I hate being so far from her. We were supposed to live close enough to see each other every weekend and have sleepovers and now she's in Boston with her girlfriend who is amazing, and I'm here with you and you're amazing, but I miss her. And I know she misses me." Eddie could feel tears soaking his shirt. "And it's stupid that we're so codependent still, and I feel bad that you probably feel like you're not enough."

"Sweetheart, I don't ever feel that way. I've never felt that way. Have I made you feel like I feel that way?" Eddie tightened his grip around Steve.

"No, not really," Steve shrugged. "It's just I know we're a lot. And I know it sometimes probably seems like I need her more than I need you, but I don't."

"Sweetheart, I know that." Eddie kissed the top of his head and smiled. "You're a package deal. I knew that the moment you kissed me in the hospital room. I was getting Steve and his platonic soulmate Robin, or I wasn't getting Steve at all. I know how important she is to you. Don't you think she's important to me too?"

"I guess," Steve shrugged again, sniffling against Eddie's shirt.

"Well, how could she not be? She helped make sure you stayed safe before I was there to protect you. She knows exactly what to do when you have nightmares, taught me everything she could so I could be there for you. She sends me tapes she thinks I'll like when she sends you care packages. She was the second person I ever came out to! "

"Wait, I thought I was the second person you came out to."

"You were the third. She was a practice run when I saw her staring at the young nurse who checked my vitals the day I woke up. She's the one who told me I should tell you," Eddie nudged him away for a moment so he could look down at him. "I wouldn't be on this floor with you five years later if not for her. She's kinda important to me."

"I just hate that I get like this!" Steve finally said. "I hate that this happens every time. It's not fair to you."

"Love, it's okay. I know how to help." Eddie kissed his forehead. "Go ahead and wash your hands and go get back in bed. I'm gonna grab a book and we're gonna cuddle for a bit."

"But-"

"And then!" Eddie continued, louder. "We'll get pizza delivered for lunch even though we shouldn't. We'll call Robin. We'll take a bath. I'll wash your hair. I'll make us that roasted chicken stuff you like for dinner. It'll be perfect."

"Okay."

"And then-"

"There's more?" Eddie could hear the smirk in Steve's voice even though he'd buried his face against his neck again.

"Of course there's more." Eddie poked his side. "And then we're gonna start talking about moving closer to Boston so we can visit her more than three times a year."

"Eds, we can't afford Boston."

"I know. But we can afford New England if we find the right spots. We'll have her send us some ads for places for rent. I can transfer within the company. You're a teacher, you can work anywhere."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is so easy. Making you happy is the easiest thing I'll ever do."

"But you have to be happy too."

"I will be. You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I'll still have you. And let's be honest, it's way more likely that one of the New England states is gonna let us get married before fucking Illinois."

Steve chuckled. "Married? Who said anything about getting married?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention? I planned on spending the rest of my life with you."

"I know that, goofball." Steve let out another genuine laugh. "I just didn't think you'd ever wanna actually get the law involved if they ever let us."

"Steven, I don't involve the law, the law involves me."

"I don't think that's how it works, babe," Steve kissed his neck before pulling away. "I think all that sounds nice though."

"Then hop to it, Harrington! We've got a bed to get back into."

Once they settled in their bed, Steve curled into Eddie's side while he opened the book they'd been reading for a week now, he looked up at Eddie with a soft smile.

"I love you a lot, you know?"

"I know, angel. I love you a lot more," Eddie replied, leaning down to kiss his lips softly.

They'd spend the day exactly as Eddie said they would.

They'd find a place only two hours from Robin and move less than a month later.

They'd get married as soon as it was legal for them to do it.

They rescued a dog.

They even adopted twins.

And every single time Steve wanted to see Robin, they packed up the car and went to visit her.

Because Steve had Eddie, and Eddie had Steve, but they both had Robin.

#steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #idk i just think we should appreciate robin's place in THEIR relationship more #like you're tellin me she doesn't latch onto eddie too??? #you're tellin me eddie and robin aren't thick as thieves??? #please

[eldritch-thrumming]

When witches turn eighteen years old, it’s customary for them to be sent out into the world, to practice their magic and find their calling. So when Eddie Munson’s birthday passes in July, he packs a suitcase, says goodbye to his Uncle Wayne—the best garden witch in the tri-county area, ask anyone!—zips his cat into the neck of his leather jacket (whom he’d cleverly named Kitty when he was six years old), climbs on his broom, and sets off for the city on the coast.

Once he gets there, Eddie’s not entirely sure where to go. He’s never actually been to the city before, but he’d heard so many stories—from classmates and friends, from travelers passing through his small town who’d come searching for Wayne’s recipes, from the witches who returned after their year-long apprenticeships—that he’d known since he was thirteen that he had to see it for himself. He wanders the cobblestone streets with his broom and his bag and marvels at the crowds. He watches a magician perform on the street—doesn’t miss it when he slips a card up his sleeve or shifts a coin through his fingers, but it still makes him smile—before he stumbles onto a ‘help wanted’ sign in a shop window. Kitty lets out a tiny meow from where she’s tucked under Eddie’s chin, like she’s trying to get his attention. Eddie glances down at her and she shifts her gaze from his face to the sign and back again.

“Alright, I hear ya,” Eddie murmurs, grinning and cupping a hand over her head for a quick pet.

A tiny bell jingles overhead as Eddie pushes open the front door. Immediately, he’s met with the smell of baking bread and sugary frosting. He breathes deep, giving Kitty another pat on her head. He stands at the counter for a moment before a boy around his age appears from the back room.

“Hi, welcome to The Bakery. What can I help you with?” The boy is grinning wide, wiping his flour-covered hands on his apron. He’s got soft brown hair and eyes to match. Eddie meets his gaze and feels himself blush.

“Um, you have a ‘help wanted’ sign in your window?” Eddie hooks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing at the sign.

“Oh! Yeah, we just put that up today actually. We’re looking for a delivery person,” the boy is still grinning, eyeing Eddie’s broom. “I’m Steve.” He holds out his hand over the counter for Eddie to shake.

“Eddie.” Steve’s hand is surprisingly soft when Eddie shakes it.

“The job comes with a room over the bakery, our hours are from 6am to 5pm every day but Thursday, and we’d like you to start immediately.”

“Oh, um. Just like that?”

Steve grins again. “I may not be smart, but even I know not to turn away a witch when one comes knocking.” He knocks his knuckles against the wooden counter and Eddie returns his smile. “Come on, I’ll show you the room.” Steve turns to head back the way he came and Eddie takes a moment to look down at Kitty. She blinks at him, all-knowing, and it makes Eddie blush again. He rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at her before following behind Steve.

He follows Steve out the bakery’s back door and up a set of wooden stairs that lead from the garden to a small deck, where Steve pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks one of the two doors. He gestures for Eddie to step through the doorway before following behind him.

“The room is furnished, there’s a small stove there in the corner with a sink and a washroom just over there,” Steve gestures to a door on the opposite wall from the tiny bed. “My apartment’s the next door over and I have a full kitchen, which you’re welcome to use if you need to. Here’s your key,” Steve drops the warm piece of metal into Eddie’s palm, “and I’ll have the spare key to my place and the bakery for you tomorrow. Make yourself at home and head down to the bakery tomorrow morning.” Steve pats him on the shoulder before heading back out of the tiny room and down into the bakery.

Eddie is left to do nothing but blink at the empty space Steve had left behind. He’s not entirely sure what just happened, but he’s pretty sure he’s landed both a job and a place to stay. Not bad for his first day in the city.

~*~

A year passes and Eddie is happy. He writes to Wayne and tells him all about Steve and the recipes he tries out in the bakery. Tells Wayne that he suspects that Steve might have some witch blood he doesn’t know about; the things he can do with buttercream are pure magic. Eddie visits Wayne once for his birthday—it’s a long way by broom—weighed down by pastries and cakes that Steve insists he take home with him.

Eddie starts to learn the landscape of the city, learns when to fly over the coastline and when to keep tight to the city streets. He makes his own posters, starts to do some deliveries after hours too, which leads him to meet all sorts of interesting people. He meets artists and performers, writers and teachers, even the man who services the big clock at the center of the city (which Eddie finds particularly impressive).

He spends time with Steve. Steve is funny and smart, despite what he’d said the first day Eddie had met him. He can cook, not just bake, and he insists that Eddie joins him for dinner at least three nights a week. At first, Eddie had tried to say no to Steve’s invitations, thinking that Steve was just being polite, but Steve had insisted and Eddie realized that Steve was actually pretty lonely. He wasn’t from the city and he didn’t have much family; he’d come here when his parents had died. He’d apprenticed with an older woman named Claudia, who’d left the bakery to him when she’d retired not too long ago. Steve’s eyes go soft whenever he mentions her. Her son, Dustin, still helps them around the bakery three days a week, counting down the days until he leaves for university (he only ever relays the amount of days and Eddie’s pretty bad at math, but by his count, Dustin’s still got about three years to go).

Steve also talks about his best friend, Robin, who’s away at art school. Steve is hoping when she comes back in the spring, she’ll work at the bakery decorating the cakes. Eddie’s surprised to learn that Robin is also a witch; he hadn’t known many witches to go to art school.

The year passes in dinners and picnics, in deliveries and odd jobs, and when spring is finally turning over into summer again, Robin arrives home to the bakery.

“Stevie!” A voice calls from the front of the shop, scratchy and warm, drowning out the jingle of the bell. Eddie is sat on the counter in the back room, completely entranced by the way Steve’s arm muscles jump under his skin as he kneads bread dough. He’s barely listening to some story Steve’s telling about something Dustin had done the other day.

Eddie watches as Steve stops what he’s doing completely. “Robbie?” A smile spreads across Steve’s face, quick and involuntary. He doesn’t even pause to wipe his hands before he’s rushing into the front of the shop. Eddie watches through the door as a pretty girl with short blond hair throws her arms around Steve’s neck. He lifts her off the ground, spinning her around, leaving flour fingerprints across the back of her navy t-shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” Steve asks when he’s finally returned her to an upright position on her own two feet.

“Because then it wouldn’t have been a surprise, dingus.” She pokes a finger into his ribs and he half-heartedly tries to shove her away.

Watching them, Eddie feels something tighten in his chest that he can’t quite explain. He knows this is Robin—he’s seen pictures of her before—knows she’s Steve’s best friend, but this is more than mere friendship. This is something else entirely. Something magic. Eddie’s a good witch. He knows true love when he sees it.

“You have to meet Eddie,” Steve says before calling through the doorway, “Eddie, come meet Robin!”

Eddie hops off the counter and does as he’s told.

~*~

A few weeks later, Eddie wakes with a pounding headache. There’s a breeze coming through his window off the coast and it makes him shiver. He coughs and looks around for Kitty, but she isn’t curled in her usual spot on his pillow. Eddie sniffles.

He pulls himself from his bed and feels dizzy. He washes his face and drinks some orange juice before he heads down to the bakery.

“Wow, you look awful,” Robin says by way of greeting. She grimaces as he comes through the doorway.

“Gee thanks,” Eddie grumbles half-heartedly in her direction. His voice sounds heavy and hoarse.

Steve crosses the room from where he stands in front of the ovens and presses the back of his hand to Eddie’s forehead. “Eddie, you’re burning up. You should go back to bed. I’ll bring you soup later.” He pushes Eddie in the direction of the back door.

“But the deliveries,” Eddie mumbles, eyes already half closing as he dreams of getting back into his sleep-warm bed.

Steve smiles softly. “Don’t worry. Robin and Dustin can handle it.” Eddie glances behind Steve at Robin, who nods at Eddie reassuringly.

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice is a whisper and then he’s stumbling back up the stairs and falling into his bed. He wonders again where Kitty’s run off to.

~*~

Eddie is in and out of consciousness for three days. He has strange dreams, some of them nightmares where monsters chase after him as he tries to fly away on his broom; others are about Steve and Robin and even Dustin, good dreams of the life he’s made here for himself.

Steve keeps his promise and brings him soup every day, helping Eddie sit up against his pillows and even helping Eddie spoon the broth into his mouth. Eddie thinks he maybe should be a little embarrassed about it, but it’s so nice and comforting that he can’t. It reminds him of home, of recipes from Wayne’s garden.

Robin comes to sit with him on the second night, stroking his hair and humming lullabies while he drifts off.

On the third day, when Eddie is starting to feel better, Kitty finally reappears. Eddie asks her where she’d run off to, but she doesn’t answer. She’s been keeping secrets lately.

~*~

After three days, Eddie finally returns to work. Steve gives him the first delivery, tells him Dustin and Robin can continue to help out, just for a few days, so Eddie doesn’t overexert himself. Eddie nods.

He ties the tiny pastry box to the handle of his broom and mounts it on the sidewalk outside. He kicks off from the cobblestones. Nothing happens. Flying had always come easily to Eddie. It was second nature to him, something he never really had to think about. Not all witches could fly, but Eddie can’t really remember a time when he couldn’t.

He tries to kick off from the sidewalk again. Again, nothing happens. Eddie can feel the panic rise in his chest. He swallows, tries again. Still nothing.

He hears himself let out a small whimper and he’s glad Steve’s gone back inside and can’t hear him. He glances through the shop window and sees Robin’s clever eyes watching him. She meets his gaze. He can see the naked concern there. He swallows again.

He climbs off the broom and unties the package. He carries both as he re-enters the bakery.

“Something’s wrong,” he says to Robin and Steve.

“What do you mean?” Steve asks coming out of the back room again.

“Dunno,” Eddie replies. “Broom’s broken or something. Can’t fly.” He shakes the broom in his hand.

“Does that happen?” Steve’s brow furrows. Eddie shrugs.

“Maybe you’re still sick,” Robin says. “You should go back to bed. Try again in a few days.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Eddie looks down at his feet. He passes the box to Robin and then decides she’s right. Decides he should go back to bed.

“Don’t worry, Eddie,” Steve says, reassuringly. “It’ll pass. Robin and Dustin can keep doing the deliveries for a little while.”

~*~

Eddie’s magic doesn’t come back. It’s not just the flying either. Kitty stays away longer. Eddie finds himself misunderstanding her more often than not. He keeps messing up simple cleaning spells and the easy home remedies he’s been brewing since before he can remember.

He takes his broom out every night and under the cover of darkness tries and tries and tries again. Sometimes he feels eyes watching him from Steve’s apartment, but when he glances up, all he can see is the flutter of curtains.

~*~

After three weeks of a miserable, magic-less existence, Robin knocks on the door of Eddie’s small room.

“Wanna talk?” She asks from the doorway.

Eddie considers saying no. Instead he nods and gestures toward his small kitchen table. She sits.

“I saw you practicing,” she says, diving right in.

“Yeah.” Eddie doesn’t try to deny it or even play dumb and ask what she means. She’s a witch. She’ll know. “Flying used to be like breathing. I didn’t even notice I was doing it half the time. Think I learned to fly before I could even walk. Now it’s all I think about. Feels like something’s missing now, like my lungs or, like, a part of my heart or something.”

Robin nods, knowing. “That happened to me, you know. Lost my magic. Felt like I lost an arm.”

Eddie swallows. “What helped get it back?”

“I met Steve,” she says softly, a fond smile playing around the corners of her lips. “I left home earlier than other witches. I never really fit in. I wanted to go to school. Didn’t know if I even wanted to practice my magic at all. My parents said if I stuck it out, I could leave when I was fourteen. So I did. I waited and counted the days and finally it was time. Spent a year in the city. I loved it. But then, one of my friends… something happened to her.” Robin looks sad and twists her fingers together, fidgeting. “She had to leave the city. When she left, I got really sick. Couldn’t do magic for almost a year.”

“A year?” Eddie asks, mouth hanging open. “I can’t not fly for a whole year.”

Robin hums. “You figure it out. You have to. Some days it’s more noticeable than others.”

“But you met Steve. And you got your magic back?” Eddie prompts.

“Yeah. It’s like that saying, you know the one? ‘True love makes the best magic.’” She says it like she’s said it a hundred thousand times before.

Eddie grumbles. “Don’t think I’m gonna fall in love and magically fix my flying problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t say anything about falling in love.” Robin smiles again, big and bright this time. “There’s more than one kind of true love.”

~*~

Eddie thinks about what Robin had said to him for days. He turns it over in his mind again and again and again.

He starts laying out treats for Kitty. He misses her. Even before he got sick and lost his magic, he’d started to leave her behind more and more on his deliveries. He’d realized he could fly faster without worrying about her falling from inside his jacket.

She’s hesitant, but she starts coming back more. When they sleep, she returns to her place on Eddie’s pillow and Eddie feels good with the soft, warm weight of her next to his head as he slowly drifts into sleep.

Before he’d gotten sick, he’d taken on too many deliveries. He’d stopped having time to chat with the customers, to hear the little stories of their lives, of cleaning the clock tower at the center of town or a new plot point one of the writers had just figured out. He’d missed hearing the explanations of what celebrations he was delivering cupcakes or tarts or heart-shaped cakes for. Delivering on foot gave him a lot more time to stop and watch the street performers, to help tourists with directions. On foot, Eddie began to appreciate the city again, like he had before, when he’d first gotten here. When it felt like he’d been dropped right into the center of a dream realized.

He starts having more dinners with Robin and Steve. He’d stopped doing it so much, not wanting to feel like a wonky third wheel. But they slot him in right next to them, right in the middle. They fill him in on inside jokes and old stories. Sometimes Dustin joins them and Eddie tells stories of Wayne and the strange people who used to appear on their doorstep in search of some of his magic.

Eddie starts to feel happy again.

~*~

A week after he talked to Robin, Eddie brings his broom out into the center of the street. It’s close to dusk, the sun low in the sky, and the bakery is closed for the day. Steve, Robin, and Dustin stand shoulder to shoulder on the sidewalk, waiting.

Eddie breathes deep. He swallows. Breathes again. And then he mounts his broom like he has a million times before. He grips the polished handle. He feels it thrum beneath his fingertips. He takes another deep breath, closes his eyes, and kicks off from the cobblestones.

There’s a strange sort of hush to the street. Eddie can’t tell if he’s in the air. He squints an eye open and sees Steve, Robin, and Dustin waving up at him. He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He lets out a shout.

He does a few circles around, just above their heads, while they all scream and clap for him. Eddie can’t help but laugh. He’d missed this.

When he finally lands, they all rush to hug him. Dustin lets go first and then Steve.

Robin’s arms are still around him when she whispers into his ear, low enough so only he can hear it. “See? True love magic.” Eddie smiles again and gives her one last tight squeeze before letting go.

Dustin and Robin head back inside, leaving Steve and Eddie to stare at each other in the empty street. Steve is still grinning, his hands in his pocket.

“How’s it feel?” Steve nods toward the broom.

“Feels like breathing,” Eddie tells him, closing the space between them. Steve’s cheeks flush and Eddie doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick from Eddie’s gaze down to his lips and back again. Steve licks his own lips. “Feels like home.”

Steve is breathing a little harder now as Eddie continues to slowly close the distance between them.

“Feels like magic,” Eddie whispers, before he brushes his lips against Steve’s. He pulls back slightly. “Feels like love.” Steve’s hand comes up to curl around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling Eddie in close for a real and proper kiss, right there in the empty street, under the setting sun.

now on ao3 :)

(For @outpastthebrakers for commenting on the post where I mentioned this!!!! Warning: this was fully written under the influence of a sleeping pill in abt an hour and a half. Don’t hold that against me :P)

#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #stobin #platonic stobin #Eddie munson is a witch #Robin buckley is a witch #Robin buckley #Kiki’s delivery service au #steddie au #steddie fluff #sorry abt not putting a read more I still can’t figure it out on mobile despite 3000 of you trying to explain. it to me #I’m too exhausted to fix it rn literally abt to pass out as we speak

[metalhoops]

Read Part 1 Here

Eddie wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he had a boyfriend. 

He thought he had a boyfriend, at least. None other than Steve goddamn Harrington. They’d been on dates, plural. He wasn’t sure Steve was ready for the word ‘boyfriend’, but no one Eddie had dated was, so it felt the same as it always did. He got it. This was new for Steve. Hell, this was new for Eddie. 

He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for things to go bad. They were one month into whatever the hell they were doing and everything was still peaches and cream. From Eddie’s past relationships, he knew things always went south quick. People didn’t stick around. But he had a good feeling about Steve, against his better judgment. 

Things did go bad, but not in the way Eddie expected. 

The first and only ‘unofficial’ date the two had gone on was when Eddie stumbled across Steve, cruising at a beat of all places. The first time Eddie realised who the guy was he’d been shocked breathless and knocked back on his heels. Space and fucking time ceased to make sense because there was no way in hell The Steve Harrington, Mr Popular, ladies’ man was in a place like that. But he was. 

More shocking still, Eddie had fallen for him before he knew who he was. He’d been all red-faced and tongue-tied, trying to help Steve ride out the wave of panic that’d overcome him. Eddie still wasn’t sure what had him so shaken up that night, but the time had passed to ask. If it was important, Steve would tell him. 

Somehow, knowing the pretty guy he’d been making goo-goo eyes at all night was the same Steve he’d shared a history class with hadn’t changed things. Eddie had still wanted to take Steve home with him, even if nothing came of it. Eddie had his share of casual hookups. Enough to know it wasn’t what he wanted, but in a place like Hawkins, where the town borders were small and people’s minds were smaller still, you’d take the scraps that were given to you. 

Steve was different to how Eddie expected. They’d orbited each other in high school. Well, Eddie had orbited Steve. He kept his distance, but trailed in the boy’s wake, much to Eddie’s own dismay. For a dude who had a stick up his ass regarding the high school hierarchy, and jocks in general, developing a crush on Steve during his first go at senior year had been a devastating blow to his sense of self. Hell, the guy had been a thorn in his side for years, spurring on a mad case of cognitive dissonance every time he crossed his path. 

Eddie was constantly surprised at how easy it was to date Steve. Not that he’d expected dating Steve to be hard on his end, but dating guys always came with complications. In Eddie’s experience, it was never simple. There were always hoops to jump through, parents or friends who couldn’t find out. Not with Steve. It was equal parts, comforting and disconcerting. 

Steve’s parents never factored into the equation besides a couple of off-handed comments the boy made, which always left a vile taste in the back of Eddie’s throat. Steve never said anything that’d raise alarm bells to an unassuming ear, but if you knew what to look for, they were there. Eddie heard his father’s voice echoing back through the years when Steve would talk about his father. 

Steve wasn’t going to come out to his parents, at least not while he still lived under their roof, but they’d been out of town for months, so the Harrington house had become a refuge, as had the Munson’s trailer. 

Wayne was always working nights, not that he’d care if Eddie had a guy around. His uncle knew about him, and he’d rather guys come around to their place instead of Eddie sneaking out to make out with them in his van or in the back of some club. Wayne was understanding, the rest of the world wasn’t always. 

He hadn’t told Wayne about Steve. He hadn’t told anyone about Steve, not that he didn’t want to. He did. He just didn’t think Steve was ready. The guy was good at acting calm, but Eddie knew there was something bubbling beneath the surface. He’d act smooth and unbothered when they’d make out on the couch. Hell, he’d been willing to go to third base quickly for a guy who’d thought he was straight up until a few weeks before. Steve had been calm. He’d taken it in his stride.

It was the little things that did it. They’d been watching a movie together at Eddie’s place. He’d taken Steve’s palm into his lap and traced absentmindedly, hating to sit still for too long. Eddie paused as he felt Steve’s hand tremble beneath his fingertips. He looked at Steve and for once the boy looked rattled, seeming floored that someone had touched him so gently. Again, Eddie felt the old familiar ache. King Steve wouldn’t crumble just because someone was soft with him, right? No way. Not back then. Something must have happened, but that was the thing about them. Their pasts were their pasts. They had each other and that would have to do for now. 

It wasn’t until Eddie showed up late to Steve’s place that he realised they needed to talk about it. Sometimes, when Eddie was absorbed in something, the rest of the world fell away. He’d told Steve he’d come around to his place for dinner at seven. He’d been making notes for the latest Hellfire campaign. He’d decided the party’s latest ‘big bad’ was going to be none other than the dark wizard, Vecna himself. He’d been poring over lore to set up things just right for the long road ahead of them and he’d lost track of the time. 

It’d been a hell of a day for it too. A dark cloud had descended on the sleepy town of Hawkins, breaking the winter freeze early. The sky was dark and if Eddie thought about it, the lights had been flickering with the storm. When he emerged from writing, it was dark outside and the alarm clock radio by his bed read 12:05. Which definitely wasn’t the time. 

Shit. Eddie threw on a jacket, hit the gas and was pulling up to the Harrington manner in no time. The clock in his car let him know it was eight-fifteen. 

Eddie expected Steve to be pissed. He felt worse when Steve wasn’t. 

He let himself in without knocking. To his surprise, Steve hadn’t locked the door. He always locked the door. He’d shot up from where he’d been sitting stock-still at the dining room table as Eddie’s footfalls seemed to bring him back from where his mind had been. He looked at Eddie for a long moment. Eddie could wilt under the scrutiny of Steve’s gaze, his jaw set, his eyes scraping over every last inch of him. He’d sighed, looking all at once like a lost child, uncertain and vaguely ashamed. 

“I thought something happened,” Steve muttered. 

It set off all the alarm bells and red flags Eddie had been ignoring. When their new partner didn’t show up to a date, some people might think the worst, that they were being stood up or that their date had found somebody else but not Steve. He’d been worried something happened to Eddie. He’d looked the way he had when the two first ran into each other at the fairgrounds. Wide-eyed and on the verge of a breakdown. 

Eddie kept telling himself that whatever had happened with Steve wasn’t a big deal, because Steve kept telling him it and damn Eddie wanted to believe him. Being with Steve had been easy, but Eddie knew facing whatever the hell this was would make it harder. The signs had all been there from the start.  

The guy rarely slept, and when he did, it was fitful and filled with incoherent mumbling. He’d ball Eddie’s sheets between his clenched palms and whimper like a dog in a car during the midday heat. Eddie didn’t bring it up because he’d been right during their first night together. Steve was haunted by something goddamn awful and Eddie wanted so badly to do something that’d make it go away, but he also knew things were never that simple. 

“I’m fine. I just got caught up. It was stupid. I’m sorry I made you worry,” Eddie spoke when he found his voice. 

Steve was shaking. Shit. 

Eddie reached out and touched his hand, balled so tightly into a fist, his knuckles turned white. As Eddie slowly pried his hand open, he realised his palms were bleeding, his nails having made five deep, half-moon crescent wounds.

“Was it that dragon game? The little shitheads don’t appreciate how much effort you put into that stuff,” Steve spoke, almost sounding normal, seeming unaware of the blood, or the way his knees knocked together, the way his body swayed like a strong breeze would send him tumbling. 

Steve wanted to know about his stupid goddamn fantasy game and god Eddie wanted to take the out, he didn’t want to have to dredge up whatever unspoken thing that’d twisted Steve up, knowing it might just ruin what the two had together but in the end, it didn’t matter. Eddie would rather know Steve was okay. They could work out what they were after. 

“Stevie, what did you think happened to me tonight?” Eddie asked, holding the boy’s hand, and leading him to the kitchen sink. 

He wet a dishtowel and gently rubbed it over Steve’s palm. 

“The power went out,” Steve mumbled, as though that explained it all. Eddie tried to follow. 

“Yeah Stevie, there was a storm. Storms kinda do that. Did you think I’d run off the road or something?” He watched Steve’s jaw tense.

“The thought crossed my mind,” He confessed, and Eddie nodded, placing Steve’s palm to his cheek, nudging against it. 

“But I didn’t and I’m fine. We’re going to talk about this, okay? Maybe not tonight, but I want you to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I’m your boyfriend, Steve. That’s what boyfriends do. They tell each other shit.” 

Steve’s eyes were suddenly on him again. Oh shit. Eddie had used the word, hadn’t he? That word was meant to stay in his head for another few months, at least. 

This is how you scare people away, Munson. You go too hard, too fast and you scare people away, but Steve had stopped shaking. 

He pulled Eddie in for a bone-crushing hug, holding him so tightly the man could hardly breathe. He felt Steve bury his head into the nape of his neck and holy shit, Eddie was so gone for this stupid jock. 

“Alright. Okay. Yeah. I’ll tell you about it, just not tonight,” Steve muttered, mostly to himself. 

Eddie wasn’t convinced, but he wanted to believe Steve. 

“Alright, not tonight.” 

The two stood together for a moment as another bout of rolling thunder cut the lights. Steve’s hands grasped at Eddie’s jacket. The silence felt loaded. Eddie needed to break it.

“You’re not weirded out I called you my boyfriend?” He asked, testing the waters, wondering how much back peddling he was going to have to do. 

“No, why?” Steve breathed, pulling back slightly, trying to work out Eddie’s features in the sudden darkness. It was just like the night at the fairground.

Eddie knew Steve better in the darkness than he did in the light. Steve, in the dark, seemed right. He was a figured silhouette, beautiful but inscrutable to Eddie. 

“It’s not too soon?” He watched Steve blink at him through the darkness. 

“I might have told Robin you were my boyfriend weeks ago,” Steve spoke hesitantly, his hand still ensnared in Eddie’s jacket. 

Eddie let out an exasperated laugh and pressed their foreheads together. 

“Oh, okay, cool. I was worried I was taking things too quick,” Eddie mumbled, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, thankful for the darkness. Goddamn, he really had a boyfriend. 

“Life’s short,” Steve reasoned. It didn’t sit right. 

“Maybe for other people. I’m gonna live forever, baby. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he teased, slipping his hand into the back pocket of Steve’s jeans. 

He didn’t know what happened with Steve but this seemed important. Steve needed to know he wasn’t going anywhere.

Though the world had a funny way of turning around to bite you in the ass. The next time Eddie missed a date night, Steve really goddamn needed to be worried. 

#steddie #steddie drabble #back by popular demand #a part 2 #steve harrington #eddie munson #Pre season 4 #eddie x steve #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st #more angst with a dash of fluff #I left it up in the air #for a possible part 3 #if people are interested #steddie fic

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Ao3

[Warning for references to sexual situations towards the end, but there is nothing explicit]

-

“So now do I get to know where we’re going?”

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise’ are you having trouble grasping?”

“The part where we’re driving around in the suburbs in your van on a Saturday night,” Steve shoots a pointed look at Eddie, not without amusement. “I feel like we’re going to end up at some high school party drinking rocket fuel out of Solo cups while you deal out of one of the back bedrooms.”

“Shit, yeah, let’s relive those glory days,” Eddie says drily, then smacks the steering wheel with one palm in emphasis. “No! I am taking you somewhere much better. And we’re almost there, so stop trying to interrogate me. We both know I crack like an egg under pressure.”

Steve holds both his hands up in front of him, brows raised, the very picture of innocence, as though he hasn’t been trying to pump Eddie for information since he picked him up at his house some fifteen minutes ago.

And Eddie really does want it to be a surprise – he thinks he did pretty well, planning this whole thing out. The effort, at first, had simply been placed on coming up with something he’d thought Steve would like—something surprising and romantic and thoughtful—but the further he’d gotten into it, the more he’d found himself enjoying it, too. He’s never actually been on a proper date, much less planned one, and finding all the little touches that would make this one perfect has actually been fun. Eddie’s looking forward to it.

He only hopes his work will pay off.

He navigates the van around one more turn, past a few more unremarkable cookie cutter houses, and pulls to a stop in front of the barrier rail of a dead-end street, entirely ignoring the raised-eyebrow look of intense curiosity that Steve is sending his way.

The thing about Midwestern suburbia is that it sprawls. There are rambling neighborhoods upon rambling neighborhoods, all with kitschy names like “Maple Ridge” and “Eagle Pointe,” and the city planners seem to forget half of what they’ve built as soon as it’s up. Apart from making things confusing to navigate (Oakview Street runs through three different residential areas, for instance, stopping and picking up again at different points throughout town), it’s created isolated pockets of parks and playgrounds, set aside behind back streets and largely unknown to anyone more than a block away – unless they happen to be restless explorers, like Eddie.

“So… are we gonna hang out here tonight?” Steve asks, glancing around at the neighborhood falling into the darkness of the rapidly encroaching dusk.

“Yes, Steve, we’re gonna have a picnic in my van on the back end of Washington Drive,” Eddie drawls.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t tell me where we were going.” Steve shrugs, smirking over at Eddie. “I figured maybe you were embarrassed.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes his door open. “C’mon, Harrington, we’re almost there.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Steve says, though he obediently gets out of the van and rounds to the back, where Eddie is digging for his supplies.

“Well, now it’s an even smaller almost,” Eddie says.

He pulls his backpack from the back of the van, followed by an insulated bag he’d bummed off of Oliver and the tiny cooler that Wayne takes with him when he goes fishing, draping it all over himself like an awkward sort of packmule and waving Steve off when he tries—twice—to reach for one of the bags to help.

“Okay, fine,” Steve finally says, shaking his head. “Lead the way, Mr. Park Ranger.”

“Thank you,” Eddie sniffs, gesturing for Steve to follow him off the street and onto a narrow dirt path that cuts through the thin strip of woods in front of them.

It’s barely a minute’s walk before the path spits them out into a tiny clearing housing a minuscule park. Eddie disregards the neglected jungle gym and the decrepit grill and zeroes in on the reason he’d brought them out here: the gazebo.

“So I’m gonna need just a little more faith from you,” he tells Steve, “and you need to turn around for about a minute.”

The expression on Steve’s face is a familiar one, recognizable even in the fading light as “deciding whether or not to make the bitchy comment,” but finally he simply shrugs and turns around.

“Sure, why not,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie shakes his head, biting down on a smile as he bounds up the two steps into the little gazebo and sets his load down. The thing is in surprisingly good condition, all told; the structure is solid, the picnic table inside is relatively clean, and there is a minimal number of dicks and swearwords graffitied around the inside (barely noticeable in the dark, even!). Glancing back to make sure Steve is still facing away, Eddie makes quick work of unpacking his bags.

The candles come out first, a whole slew of the inexpensive white ones that come in jars, picked up from the dollar store, and he dots them around the gazebo railings and across the picnic table, lighting them with the cigarette lighter from his pocket until the space is warm and glowing. The insulated bag is next, providing two foil-wrapped plates of spaghetti that is—thank you, Oliver—still warm. Last is the cooler, which provides two beers. He’s just pulling napkins and forks from his backpack when he hears Steve calling out from where he’s left him standing.

“I’m pretty sure it’s been more than a minute.”

“You’re so impatient,” Eddie shoots back, taking the steps at a leap and jogging back across the grass to Steve. “But I’m done, anyway, so you can turn around.”

Steve does so, his focus going first to Eddie, before his attention is caught by the glow of the gazebo behind him. Eddie can see his eyes go wide in the candlelight, startled first, and then pleased, accompanied by a slow-growing smile.

“Eddie, this is…” he leaves off with a tiny laugh, like he doesn’t quite have a word for it, but whatever he thinks it is, it’s good.

Eddie shrugs. “I know we can’t exactly go out to a restaurant and have a real date, but I promised you candlelight,” he says. “I’m afraid the violinist was booked, though.”

Shaking his head, Steve lets out another little laugh, and then takes a step towards the gazebo and glances back at Eddie.

“C’mon, yeah, let’s eat. Can’t have everything getting cold!” Eddie gestures Steve up the steps and waves his arm grandly towards one of the plates. “I’d pull your chair out for you, but it appears to be attached to the table.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Steve says, swinging one leg over the bench, then the other, and settling himself down. He waits for Eddie to follow suit before picking up his fork and then – just staring down at his plate for a moment. “Is this…” he starts uncertainly.

“It’s the spaghetti sauce you showed me how to make,” Eddie fills in. “Since you were convinced I’d perish trying to subsist on frozen pizza if you weren’t there to force meals on me.”

Eddie hadn’t done much cooking prior to befriending Steve; he could boil water and scramble an egg, but his ability and interest had mostly ended there. Then Steve had come along, earnestly (and transparently) bringing “leftovers” to the trailer to share with Eddie and Wayne, before he progressively took over their kitchen. Absolutely no one had had any complaints about this arrangement, though Steve had insisted on teaching Eddie how to make a few basic staples for himself – among which had been spaghetti sauce.

For a long moment, Steve says nothing, continuing to stare at his plate, brows furrowed.

“…and I haven’t,” Eddie says, trying to break the silence. “Perished, that is. In your absence. Obviously. Not that– not that I think you were really worrying about that, I just mean I’ve been making some of the stuff you showed me. Is all.”

“I’m just… kind of surprised you remembered, I guess,” Steve says, glancing up at Eddie, expression unreadable in the flickering light around them. “I wasn’t sure if you were actually interested or if you were just humoring me, when I showed you all that stuff.”

“I still have all the recipes you have me,” Eddie says – and he does: a small stack of notecards that Steve had stolen from Robin and covered in his surprisingly neat handwriting, detailing things like when to add butter to this and how much garlic to add to that, which has a permanent home in a drawer in Eddie’s kitchen.

“Oh,” Steve says, and nothing more.

“But don’t leave me in suspense, tell me how I did,” Eddie insists, attempting to push past the awkwardness he’d brought upon them while simultaneously shoving his mouth full of pasta in order to keep from pulling out any new touchy topics.

Steve twirls up a forkful of spaghetti and brings it to his mouth, spending a long moment chewing thoughtfully.

“Well?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and swallows. “I mean, I’ve had better,” he says with a shrug, and Eddie experiences a moment of genuine distress before he spots the smirk tugging at Steve’s lips.

Eddie kicks at him under the table and Steve laughs, and Eddie can’t help but join him.

“Don’t be shy, baby, tell me how you really feel,” Eddie drawls, and Steve snickers again.

“Trust me, I will,” he says. But then: “It’s good, Eddie. You did good.”

Knocked off balance by the casual sincerity, Eddie goes quiet, and they eat for a few minutes in silence.

“So,” Eddie finally says, “I’m sure this is a great shock to you, but I’ve never actually done this before.”

Steve glances up at him. “Eaten spaghetti in a gazebo?” he asks, so dry that even Eddie’s not quite sure if he���s being sarcastic.

“The dating thing,” Eddie clarifies, instead of trying to figure it out. “What exactly are you supposed to do on a first date?”

Something about Steve’s expression goes off again – that same, weird, false look he’d had the other day that Eddie hadn’t been able to ferret out the source of. He’s about to ask what’s wrong when Steve shrugs, taking a quick pull from his beer.

“I guess it’s usually the getting-to-know-you stuff. Favorite movie, what kind of music you listen to, hobbies – that sort of thing,” he says.

“Huh.” Eddie screws his mouth to the side, thinking it over. “Seems… kinda boring. But, if you insist!” He leans forward on the table, resting his chin in his hands and batting his eyelashes at Steve. “So, tell me about yourself, handsome.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s not like that’s what you have to do. I’m pretty sure dates are just supposed to be… you know, being with someone you like. Putting aside time just to do something with them,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it is, you have a good time because you’re doing it together.”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly, his humor fading beneath a bright flare of fondness. “That– that sounds better, yeah.”

“I think so, too,” Steve says, smiling across the table at Eddie.

“Well, then.” Eddie takes a chance and slowly slides his hand forwards until it’s resting over Steve’s on top of the table, inwardly doing a little dance when Steve remains relaxed beneath his touch. “Under those parameters, do you think we’re having a successful first date?”

And that’s when Steve pulls back, drawing his hand from beneath Eddie’s and averting his gaze, shrugging shoulders that have gone tense. “Sure, yeah.” He glances back up and offers a smile that’s trying very hard to be sincere but is underscored by something Eddie still can’t put his finger on. “Seriously, this is really nice, Eddie.”

“What am I saying?” Eddie asks.

“What?” Steve’s brows draw together in confusion.

“I keep saying something that’s upsetting you and I can’t– like, I can’t figure out what it is,” Eddie admits. “But I don’t want to keep doing it.”

“I’m not upset,” Steve says, bristling slightly under the skeptical look Eddie sends him. “I’m not. I’m– it’s stupid, alright? I’m fine.”

“It’s not stupid,” Eddie says, and Steve scoffs.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Well then tell me.”

Frowning, Steve looks back down at his plate, pushing the last few strands of spaghetti around with his fork. “It’s – seriously, it’s dumb. Like, I know that, alright? It’s just that you keep calling this our first date and I guess… I thought of something else as our first date. That’s all.”

Oh, fuck.

Eddie is an idiot. Fuck.

Of course Steve thinks of something else as their first date. He’d thought they were dating, so of course he’d thought of their outings as dates. Dinners, the movies, aimless walks around town – time set aside to be with someone you like, to just do something together. And here Eddie is again, shoving how little he’d thought of those times in Steve’s face.

“Shit, Steve, I’m sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and Steve shakes his head.

“It’s fine, I told you, I know it’s ridiculous–”

“It’s not.”

“–and I don’t have to get all hung up over it. It wasn’t even a date if we didn’t both think of it that way, right? So we can just look at this as– like, take two.”

Eddie purses his lips. “Even if we didn’t both think of it as a date, it was important to you.”

Steve shrugs and then, steady and deliberate, puts his hand over Eddie’s, curling his fingers around Eddie’s palm. “Well, tonight can be important to both of us,” he says, offering Eddie a small smile. “And I don’t want to ruin it. I really am having a good time.”

The only reason Eddie can imagine that he would be even remotely this lucky is if the universe is trying to make up for the debacle that was last spring (but then again, seen in the reverse, he can’t imagine why the universe would be inflicting him on Steve; he’ll have to keep thinking on that one). And on the one hand, he’s determined not to waste this opportunity – neither Steve’s good will nor his second chance. But on the other hand–

He can’t not ask.

Shifting his hand a little so he can wrap his fingers around Steve’s, Eddie takes a breath and bites the bullet. “Okay, but what… were you thinking of as our first date?”

For a long minute, Steve says nothing, and Eddie tries not to panic, tries not to assume that he’s just ruined everything by admitting he doesn’t even know which instance Steve is talking about, and mostly fails. But then Steve takes a breath and shakes his head.

“It’s… kinda stu–”

“Don’t say it,” Eddie cuts in sharply, warning, before he can stop himself. “I’m sure it’s not. Tell me about it.”

Steve shoots Eddie a chagrined kind of smile before turning his eyes to the surface of the table. “It was at the diner,” he says, and Eddie only just holds himself back from asking which time, because they’ve gone to the tiny diner off the side of the road near Forest Hills together more times than he can count; it’s within walking distance of Eddie’s place, and it tends to be their go-to when they want to go out but have no particular destination in mind. “It was that first night. The first time we kissed.”

It hits Eddie like a jab to the sternum that Steve chooses to phrase it that way: the first time they kissed. Because if Eddie remembers one thing for certain, it’s that the first night they kissed had also been the first night they’d had sex – and yet it’s the kiss that Steve focuses on. It’s the kiss that had been important to him.

“I guess there wasn’t anything that special about that night. Nothing different. We just had fun,” Steve says quietly. “Pretty sure we drove everyone else crazy fighting over the jukebox, especially since most of the songs in there suck, anyway, and you were telling me about what happened during your last game and you tried to draw it on a napkin with ketchup and a toothpick, which… did not turn out well, and you kept stealing fries off my plate–”

“Because you kept dipping them in your milkshake and I was telling you that it was gross!” Eddie remembers.

“Of course, that part stands out to you,” Steve grouses, though there’s a bit of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Hey, you made a believer out of me. Fries and vanilla shake, I have to admit it’s good,” Eddie says, and Steve’s smile grows a little more.

“But, yeah, like I said, it wasn’t… special, I guess, I just remember thinking that I wanted to do that with you all the time. I wanted to do everything with you all the time, whatever it was,” Steve says. “And then when we were back in your room, sitting on your bed, you were looking at me like– I thought you wanted to–”

“I did,” Eddie says quickly. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you to kiss me. I don’t know, I was – kinda turned around about it, but I knew I was glad that you did it first, because I was too chickenshit to ever do it myself.”

Eddie remembers this part clearly; something had seemed different about Steve when they’d gotten back from the diner. There had been something softer and lighter about him that had made Eddie want to reach out and touch – an urge he wasn’t unfamiliar with. He is, after all, queer as hell, and—though he feels like an ass for phrasing it this way, now—Steve is really hot. Of course he’d had thoughts about Steve before; he just tended to ignore them, because they were friends, and the thought that anything more could happen between them seemed outlandish.

But then Steve had leaned in and kissed him.

The first one had been close-mouthed and soft, almost tentative, sweet, but ensuing kisses had been deeper, more wanton, and before Eddie had quite registered the shift, Steve was in his lap and his tongue was practically down Steve’s throat and he’d thought – well, maybe there could be a little more between them. Maybe things didn’t have to change all that much.

He'd rolled with it, and then he’d rolled them over, and then he’d helped Steve get rid of his shirt and he’d ditched his own, and then he’d begun the process of learning how to wring as many sweet, pleasured noises as possible out of Steve.

Now, back at the picnic table in the fluttering light of nearly a dozen cheap candles, Steve is looking at Eddie oddly, like he’s not quite sure what to make of him.

“Well… since I had kind of been looking at that night as when we, uh– got together, I just – yeah, made sense to me. First date.” Steve shrugs.

A frown pulls across Eddie’s face, and he fights to keep it at bay, so he doesn’t give Steve the wrong impression – he’s not upset with Steve, he’s just upset. He’s upset that he can’t look at that night the same way Steve had – that he hadn’t experienced it the same way. He wishes he had; that he’d let himself consider what it might be like not if he and Steve could be friends and have sex, but if he and Steve could be more than that.

He squeezes Steve’s fingers, still wrapped in his own, and catches Steve’s eye when he looks up. “You know… I mean, I know that not all of the time we spent together has the same significance for me that it did for you, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to me,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s all he can say for himself, but at least it’s true. “I love spending time with you. Even when I’m complaining, I’m doing it with joy.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow at him. “With joy?”

“Yep. Entirely joyful complaining,” Eddie says seriously.

“Well, you do like complaining.” Steve smirks.

“I sure the fuck do. It’s what makes us such a good pair,” Eddie replies, and Steve laughs.

They talk for a while longer after that, lighter and easier than before, but eventually it gets too chilly to reasonably keep sitting around. They’d been blessed with unusually mild weather that night, but late October is still late October, and the temperature has dropped since the sun’s gone down.

They work together to blow out all the candles before they end up dropping them in a nearby garbage can once they realize that the wax is still liquid and Eddie can’t put them back in his bag (“Okay, I thought of almost everything,” Eddie insists as he produces a flashlight to light their way back to the van). Eddie turns up the heat before pulling back out into the road, and they take the drive back to Steve’s house in contented silence.

Eddie parks and turns the van off once they’re in the driveway, and Steve watches with curiosity as Eddie gets out with him, but says nothing as they walk up to the front door together.

“Well,” Eddie says once they reach the porch, “I had a great time tonight. D’you think I can see you again?”

Steve blinks at him, doing almost a doubletake as he looks from Eddie to his door and then back again.

“Do you– You don’t want to come in?” Steve asks, a little bewildered.

“Oh, no, I very much do,” Eddie assures him. “But this is take two, right? And I said I was gonna do it right, and that means no sex until the third date. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the rule.”

Steve laughs, but quickly quiets when all Eddie does is smile at him. “You’re serious,” he says, a bit flat with disbelief.

“Completely.” Eddie nods. “I’m romancing you, remember?”

There’s another moment of quiet stillness from Steve before a slow, delighted grin begins to grow on his face. “Well, in that case…” he says, “I had a great time, too.” He leans in and pecks a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips, short and almost shy. “Call me.”

And then he’s gone, the front door closing behind him before Eddie can even register what’s happened.

Eddie barely even remembers getting back into the van, but if he had to guess, he’d say he probably floated there.

It should be ridiculous – he’s had Steve’s mouth on pretty much every part of him, he’s had Steve on top of him and underneath him and crying out his name and begging him for more, he’s had Steve naked and sated and curled around him, and yet it’s one short kiss that nearly short-circuits him.

It should be ridiculous, but Eddie thinks it might actually be the best thing in the world.

Part 8

-

Tag List (Currently full! Drop me a line if you want off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #consistent chapter length? never heard of her #anyway have some date fluff. we've got... a little more stuff coming up #solar wrote

[steventhusiast]

once again inspired by a tiktok of a dad playing DnD with his kids. i had no idea where this was going the whole time but i had fun writing it so enjoy

-

When Steve pushes open the door to his home, a smile creeps up on him without permission. There's nothing better than getting home from a day of work to the sound of his daughters squealing with laughter and Eddie's chuckles.

He closes the door behind him quietly, and decides to quietly make his way to the sound. He doesn't want to alert them of his presence, wants to see what his family's been doing all day without him.

Poking his head around to peek through the doorway to the dining room, he sees Eddie sat with his DM screen in front of their two girls, Lily and Amy. Lily, who's five years old, is giggling at Eddie's description of a tavern they see in the distance, whilst Amy, who's only three, plays with the set of dice in front of her.

"The tavern ahead of you is strange. It's-"

"Strange how, daddy?" Lily interrupts, and Eddie makes a big show of narrowing his eyes at her interruption.

"Ahem. No interruptions, miladies." He says, leaving a pause for the girls to giggle, "The tavern is strange. Its roof is covered in rainbow tiles, and as you get closer you notice that it's shimmering in the light."

"Like sparkles?" Amy asks, and Steve smiles to himself as he sees her kick her feet as she looks up at Eddie with big eyes.

"Yes, lovely, like sparkles." Eddie confirms with a smile, and Amy gasps.

"I'm called Sparkles! Can we go?" She asks, and the leg kicking gets faster as she gets excited.

"Of course! Would you like to know what's strange about the tavern first?" He checks, looking to Lily for her opinion as well.

"No. Wanna see the sparkles." Amy says, and Lily nods in agreeance.

"Okay. As you get closer to the tavern you notice it is surrounded by what at first look like a swarm of rats, but are actually teeny tiny unicorns. What do you do?"

It’s clearly a setup for a fight with the hoard of unicorn, but either Eddie doesn’t know their girls at all or they don’t realise it, because the girls gasp in excitement at his words, and Steve decides to lean against the doorway instead of hiding. Eddie notices him and offers him a wide smile.

"Can we..." Lily hums as she thinks, "Can I adopt one?"

Eddie laughs at the suggestion, but nods.

"I suppose. Okay, I need you to roll for me," Lily squeals in excitement, "Grab the dice with 20 sides for me, and roll to see if you, Sunshine, can convince one of the unicorns to be your friend."

Lily nods in determination, and Steve watches as Eddie patiently lets her count the sides of the dice until she finds the one with twenty sides. She is very serious about rolling it, and when it ends up being a 15, she looks at Eddie with an earnestly hopeful expression.

"A 15 works! One of the tiny unicorns jumps up to land on your shoulder, and introduces themself as Cloudy." Eddie cheers with the girls, and then turns to Amy, "What will Sparkles do?"

"Can I flyyyy over the unicorns? I wanna see the ta-vern, daddy."

"Of course you can. Your character can fly, so you easily glide over the crowd and make it to the door of the tavern." Eddie says with a smile.

"Hope you're not going to let them buy any mead at this tavern, Mr Dungeon Master." Steve decides to talk at that moment.

Eddie knows he's there, obviously, but the girls are completely engrossed in their game, and jump out of their seats at his voice.

"Daddy! We played all day and I got a pet unicorn and we saved a princess!" Lily explains as they run over to hug his legs.

"Wow. Sounds like a busy day, huh?"

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #stranger things #more dad drabble i love steddie as dads #family fluff <3333 #mywriting

[hitlikehammers]

safe under you

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar husbands, writing vows, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day nineteen: Love is the comfort of quiet moments  (@tboygareth)

the rockstar husbands are back on their soft-sleepy-romantic bullshit idk ♥️ maybe I'll get around to writing the ACTUAL VOWS next time

“You’re so quiet.”

Which meant Eddie should have heard his husband approaching but: as it stands he really, really didn’t, and he jumps hard when Steve whispers from behind his shoulder over the back of the couch.

Steve laughs at the glare Eddie shoots him—a half-hearted one at best but there—as he reaches to start rubbing at the crook of his neck, up and down on either side and the glaring goes away instantly because: Steve Harrington?

Has magical hands.

“Whatcha doing?” he murmurs close to Eddie’s ear and Eddie hums a little as he gathers himself from going immediately-boneless under Steve’s touch, the kneading of his palm against Eddie’s strained muscles because he’s been down here…not too long, he doesn’t think. They’d gone to bed together at normal time, and he’d fallen asleep, too; he’d just been restless when he woke up, and knew it was the kind of thing he wouldn’t get more rest out of unless he did something about it, so he’d kissed Steve’s head and rolled out of bed, regretful for it but hopeful, too, that if he gave in to the nagging at the back of his head, he’d quiet it enough to be able to slip back in next to his beloved, and lean against the mattress just so, so that Steve’s arms could curl around him as they always did: soft and sweet and waiting to hold him.

Eddie just hasn’t…managed to get there, yet.

“Writing,” Eddie sighs, and then whines a little as Steve’s hands leave their place on his shoulders, and he turns to look because where’s Steve going, Steve shouldn’t go anywhere, Steve should stay right—

Here.

And look at that: Steve’s plopping himself down on the sofa next to Eddie, a little too far but then he’s scooting further, and Eddie opens his mouth to protest but then Steve’s dropping down, draping his body over Eddie’s lap and laying against him, looking up at him with still-half-sleepy eyes and just…

He’s just so fucking beautiful, y’know?

“You’re never quiet when you’re writing,” Steve says, head tilted up, eyes closed as he leans back against the armrest where Eddie’s got his notebook, his face so soft. His mouth so soft—

“Campaign, you mumble to yourself,” Steve continues on, his voice syrupy, still only half-committed to waking; “lyrics, you hum if you don’t have a guitar,” and then he reaches down toward Eddie’s knee and taps rhythmic there:

“And you drum your fingers,” and Steve smiles as his fingers dance for a few languid moments before he eases his lashes open and meets Eddie’s gaze, because Eddie’s gaze has been on his since he settled in his lap.

Because: duh.

“Looks like it’s hard, too,” Steve sucks his lower lip between his teeth, face still soft but mouth quirked just a little downward, still a little dream-soaked and Eddie love that part, but: never the downturn of that mouth.

“Hmm?” Eddie rumbles low so Steve’ll maybe feel it a little where he’s pressed; the little hazy giggle Steve lets out as he nuzzles into Eddie’s middle just that tiny bit: he felt.

Eddie likes to think he’s never been so in love, but he doesn’t…he doesn’t believe he’s ever not loved Steve with all of his everything.

He’s just wholly convinced that his everything grows with ever moment beside this man, every heartbeat lived together: it stretches him wider, broader every day for the singular purpose of holding the all of his love ever-bigger.

“Whatever you’re working on,” Steve murmurs, just short of sleep-slurred; “you’ve got this,” and he reaches, bats a little around Eddie’s face before he lands between his eyebrows and smooths the skin there which, okay, fine, had been all wrinkled-up.

“Means you’re concentrating too hard,” Steve comments sagely, patting Eddie’s cheek a little blind as he settles wholly back in Eddie’s lap.

“This happens to be very important,” Eddie counters with a tiny flick to Steve’s ear, which is met with a little squeak that warms his insides so delicate, so thorough and full.

“Doubtful,” Steve manages to scoff, like he’s tipping closer to wakefulness but not there yet; “not important enough to make you,” and Steve’s the one flicking now, light at Eddie’s forearm in emphasis:

“Quiet and frowny.”

He’s so…he’s fucking edible he’s so adorable, that’s what he is—Jesus.

“Not frowny,” Eddie lets a little at Steve’s hair, all tousled from the bed; “invested.”

Steve purses his lips and tries—fails, but tries—to peek at the notebook on level with his temple.

“What’s got you so invested, then?” he finally gives up trying to turn and read where Eddie’s hasn’t even bothered trying to hide, not least because there is nothing there, and just asks. And Eddie could dodge it. Steve would respect it if he did.

But he…he doesn’t. Generally speaking he doesn’t hide anything from Steve. Big or small. Their life is a shared thing from top to bottom and Eddie loves that about them so fucking fierce, so. He just sighs and admit it.

“My vows.”

Because that’s what’s been keeping him up, that’s what drove him out of the soft joy of their bed, that’s what amounted to scribbles and cross-outs alone on the page in front of him and it should be this hard, Eddie’s a decent enough lyricist, not to mention most of his songs all this time are for, or inspired by, or just about, generally, all-encompassingly: Steve. It’s always Steve.

Which makes it that much more unbearable that he can’t seem to fucking write his goddamn vows.

Then, though, just then; the most unexpected thing happens. Or starts.

Steve starts shaking against him and there a half-second he’s worried—does it hurt his sweetheart, that he can’t get the words down, does it make him sad, is he cryi—

No.

No: it only takes half-a-second for the anxiety to fade and the sound to register alongside the trembling: Beautiful. Radiant. Still wholly unexpected.

Steve’s laughing.

“That’s silly,” Steve finally tells him, looking up at him with genuine north in his eyes and yes, he’s still a little sleepy-drunk, but the feeling is wholly present and…

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with it—wants to just wrap himself inside it and savor but: his vows…laughable?

Silly?

“What?”

“You’ve already made your vows,” Steve grins up at him, all brightness; “like, three times,” and, okay.

Okay, that’s not exactly wrong, though he could probably try to argue that it was more three proposals’ worth of vows, and are those actually vows, if it’s just a proposal—

“Proposals fucking count,” Steve waves his wrist definitively and…Eddie isn’t sure if he said any of that out loud?

Then: probably wouldn’t make a difference either way. They know each other.

“The first one was legitimately with the twisty-tie from a loaf of Home Pride,” Eddie points out because: because that…that’s probably not as important—

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, and lifts his left hand: there’s a simple ring on his left hand, pricey for their budget when they’d gathered their family and committed to always in front of them under a temperate Indiana summer’s sky, bonfire and barbecue lively in the background: but that ring wasn’t smooth; it had a long-worn-bare stick of metal wrapped around it and soldered, one that used to be covered in bright paper to stick out against a plastic bread bag:

“I remember well,” and Steve sounds so soft, so blissfully taken in by the memory of that first time Eddie had proposed and, fuck.

Fuck, the butterflies never go away, do they? That effervescent joy stays fresh and vivacious forever.

Thank fuck; he wants no less of this; for them. The love they have deserves no less.

“Still want to melt down the Ring Pop,” Steve says as he plays with his ring; “make it match,” and that’d been the second time: Steve had bought Eddie a ring at a ren faire, and Eddie’d been beside himself to reciprocate, immediately, because Steve deserved no less, and that was how the bum-end of a long-licked Ring Pop came to live eternally on Steve’s keys.

To be eyed for melting into a full-hoop shape for years, now, but Eddie kinda thinks it’s loved and treasured plenty, just as it already is.

“I love you so fucking much,” Steve tells him, apropos of nothing, and that’s…that’s kind of exactly how they work, yeah. They just love.

So fucking much.

Eddie’s pulse kinda skips with it, bounces like pigtails hopscotching along, all unbridled glee. He draws Steve hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles.

“Aren’t you,” Eddie swallows as he lifts his blank notebook and shakes it around a little: “aren’t you stressing over them?”

Because it doesn’t sound like he is, and that’s…sure, they’ve done this before, if not with a license in hand like they will this time. But Steve’s always been more prone to worry over stuff like this. So while Eddie doesn’t want the man he loves to be anxious, he is…kinda wondering, is all.

“Not writing any,” Steve shrugs and lets the motion turn him a little against Eddie’s lap, to look up more straight-on.

“You know I’m not great with words,” Steve tells him simply; “like, planning them out, I’ll fuck it up in the moment and then I’ll just be more flustered.”

And, yeah: okay. That’s a fair point.

Then there’s a hand slipping up his jaw, and crawling his cheek, and turning him down to look at Steve closer:

“Figured I can just look at you, and I’ll,” Steve’s pupils get bigger as he exhales, as he takes in Eddie’s face and beams at him, strokes his cheekbone with his thumb.

“The most important things are always right there,” Steve breathes warm: “so I’ll just say what’s already waiting.”

And shit. The man says he’s bad at words.

“You’re the light of life, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, contorting himself to lean and Steve sees, arches up to press their lips as Eddie mouths against him: “the song in my soul,” and fuck: he means it so many times over he could never count it, could never pin a number to it. It’s too vast.

“See, look at you,” Steve taps his cheek playfully, but so soaked up with love; “you’ve already got all your words, so,” and then he lets his hand slide off Eddie’ face, and he sits up just to grab at Eddie’s legs, swing them up onto the couch and settles himself between them, tugging Eddie from the calves further down until he’s propping himself up by his palms.

“C’mon,” Steve coaxes, and uses his back to ease Eddie down and: oh. Oh, he wants them laid out on the cushions.

And well: Eddie could, would, will only ever oblige, if the question is do you want to lay down with your husband thrice-almost-four-times-over?

Because again: duh. If they were really in the market for silly ideas.

Steve sighs so happily, so airy and bright even as Eddie reaches to flick the light off, and wraps his arms to rest around Steve, sure and close where he holds him to his chest, folds him in where he already nuzzles deeper and:

It’s how safe my heart feels under the weight of your head.

Well, fuck him.

Maybe he does know his vows already.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #established steddie #rockstar eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #domestic fluff #or rather more: domestic LOVE #married steddie #idiots in love #slice of life #rockstar husbands #writing vows #so WHAT if it's for your fourth wedding they are all equally profound and significance excuse YOU #sleepy!steve is so precious #criminal levels of softness #steddielovemonth #love is the comfort of quiet moments #these two boys have probably been together for ✨DECADES✨ at this point and it FUCKING SHOWS #old married couple!steddie #stranger things

[batty4steddie]

Steve began to feel a little jealous of Eddie’s hair after he started using Steve’s shampoo. Eddie’s curls were already beautiful, but now they were more defined. They were bouncy, buttery soft and shinier than ever.  Steve loved to bury his nose in them when he kissed Eddie’s head in the morning—and again at night before he fell asleep. He also didn’t mind when Eddie used his lap as a pillow. Steve would run his fingers through them mindlessly while they watched TV, ruffling Eddie’s bangs every now and then. Steve spent half the time looking down at Eddie instead of whatever they were watching. Eddie was so pretty. Steve found himself saying that out loud more often than just thinking it. Eddie’s reaction was almost always the same: he would scrunch up his nose, his cheeks would flush the nicest, rosiest shade that complimented his skin tone, and he would argue that Steve was much better looking than he was, so Steve doubled down. “It’s true, Eds. You’d think people would’ve called you ‘The Hair’.”

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie drabble #sharing shampoo #jealousy #eddie's hair needs to be mentioned more #talk about a good wig #fluff #eddie the hair #maybe he’s born with it #🦇 #hair so healthy it shines #hair worship

[ghost-proofbaby]

FIRST IMPRESSIONS (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: eddie faces the perils of being a coffee shop opener, and meets you. you, who's so damn optimistic it should be annoying. you, who makes the job that has given him trouble seem like a cake walk. you, who seemingly bleeds sunshine. god, he should really hate you.

warnings: TWO uses of "y/n", fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), PHYSICAL descriptors used for reader (she has a nose ring and a septum piercing! that's all), eddie is just a bitter and grumpy idiot.

wc: 5.2k

a/n: i apologize in advance for all the technical 'barista' talk in reference to positions. i tried to elaborate on a few of them, haha. also... yes. i gave reader two nose piercings. it's definitely not even more self-projection psh. (because i have three)

the full menu

Eddie Munson is not a morning person.

So, why, for the life of him, he ended up as an opener, he couldn’t tell you. 

It had been a snowball effect. He got tired of working odd jobs here and there to produce enough cash to slip Wayne for bills, decided the quick change made off of fixing up neighbors’ cars or mowing lawns just wasn’t cutting it for his desired spending habits. He was tired of being so restricted by his misfortune; he was tired of watching Wayne pull long shifts only to continue living paycheck to paycheck. He was tired of his friends like Harrington and Buckley having money from their part time gig at the movie store to freely agree to impromptu late nights at Benny’s or seeing the latest slasher films in the theater as they premiered while he had to deliberate over counting change to see if he even had the funds to join in. He was tired of eyeing that guitar in the mall and constantly telling himself one day. 

Eddie Munson had been tired. But now, as he forced himself awake most mornings before the sun even rose, he was exhausted.

Originally, he’d wanted to be a closer. He didn’t mind being the clean up crew, having to spend late nights in a coffee shop sweeping up grounds and scrubbing away the stickiness of the day. But then the hiring manager that interviewed him had hinted towards the fact that their store already had enough closers when he’d spotted Eddie’s availability, made a few off comments about how what they really needed was a couple brave souls to take over opening shift, and that tiresome cycle rang in Eddie’s ears. Before he even had the chance to think it through, in his desperation, he’d insisted that oh, actually, my availability is completely open. I don’t mind working earlier than that. 

What bullshit. Eddie definitely minded working earlier than that. He more than minded it — he loathed it.

Long story short, it had been a series of unfortunate events that led Eddie to where he was now. In his van, fifteen minutes early, staring out at a parking lot bathed in the lingering night as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

The clock on his dash read 4:46 in a taunting blink, flickering against his bleary eyesight and making him question every decision in his life that had led him here. Adjusting to the new job had been easy enough — his trainer was nice enough, learning how to make drinks and what routines were required in the morning had been meticulous but rewarding — except for the time. It wasn’t just his start time that tortured him vehemently; shifts seem to pass miserably slow, the seconds dragging their feet in no hurry to get anywhere in particular. The clock didn’t care if Eddie yearned for his bed and a few extra hours of sleep gifted by a nap. Traffic didn’t either, when he’d hit the highways and catch just the beginnings or the tail end of the morning rush.

You’d think he’d complain more about the commute. But the gas spent on the twenty minute drive to the town over was the least of his concerns.

“Fuckin’ John,” Eddie mutters when a large truck pulls up to the drive thru, a notable regular he’d begun to recognize after not even a month of working there. They had just recently changed their opening time (they used to open an hour earlier, his manager had informed him. Eddie had nearly burst into grateful tears that he’d never experienced that crime of humanity.) 

None of his coworkers had arrived yet. Most lived closer, able to garner extra snoozes on their alarms and shorter drives of contemplation. Eddie only ever envied them on mornings like today.

“We don’t open for, like, another forty minutes, asshole,” Eddie curses out loud to himself, counting down the time until John gives up and drives away. The man would just circle the store like a vulture anyways. He always did; he always had to be the first customer, grabbing his ridiculous coffee order before scurrying off to play cards at the casino, “How do you come here every fuckin’ day and not know that?” 

It took the older man a full four minutes before he finally roughly shifted his truck back into drive, being the farthest thing from gentle as he hit his gas and jerked his vehicle out of the drive thru line. Eddie couldn’t see him clearly through the stubborn darkness, but he could easily imagine that look of irritation at not receiving the caramel frappucino with a quad shot that he seemed to feel entitled to. 

God, that man was a dick. 

Eddie nearly misses another coworker pulling up to park beside him during the spectacle. 

By this point, he’s learned what cars all his coworkers drive. 

Carmen, the fellow barista who had trained him but he now rarely worked with due to her availability being a bit later in the day, drove a bright red 2012 Kia Soul that had certainly seen better days. Nicole, one of the shift leads he worked with often during his opens, drove a small and silver Nissan Versa. The year is lost on him, but he’s willing to bet it was a few years old at this point. James, another shift lead who went by Jamie and never had much to say, drove a Volkswagen that looked to be straight out of the 70s. And that was just the beginning, the ones he could think of off the top of his head while he was still waking up inside his van. 

The car parked beside him wasn’t any of these. He didn’t recognize it at first glance, and found himself doing a double take as his face scrunched up. 

A Jeep. A two-door Jeep Wrangler with vibrant, chipped yellow paint now sat idle beside him. 

Who the fuck drove a yellow Jeep? 

He can’t even bother to be annoyed or fatigued anymore with the mystery presently before him. He can’t see through the tint of the windows, can’t make out the silhouette of who it was. He was well aware that he hadn’t been acquainted with all of his coworkers quite yet – there was a plethora of baristas in the store he’d only heard spoken of in passing rather than properly meeting – but it had seemed like the people who opened always came from the same rotation of sorry suckers. 

Nicole’s car pulls up. So whoever drove the Jeep was not one of the shift leads. 

Five minutes to 5:00 AM, Nicole’s car door opens first and Eddie can hear the Jeep’s engine kill. He’s quick to fumble with his own keys, pulling them from the ignition in a haste and throwing a hand out to blindly grab his apron from his passenger seat.

A deep shade of green. Everyone had one or two of them laying around, and they were the root of the nickname for all new hires: green beans. He had just finally gotten the one embroidered with his name a little over a week ago, and his manager had apologized profusely as she swore it usually didn’t take that long.

Eddie really didn’t care. The moment he started wearing the apron with his name on it, customers had taken to randomly addressing him by it, and it made him fucking uncomfortable. 

“Rise and shine, campers!” Nicole’s voice echoes through the parking lot the moment all three openers are out of their cars. 

Eddie doesn’t answer at first (which isn’t unusual; Nicole was used to his ever-present sleep-deprivation induced silence). He’s too busy nearly tripping over himself as his eyes stay glued on that Jeep, on the door that swings wide open roughly from two parking spaces away as he waits with bated breath. 

Would this new coworker he was about to meet even like him? 

“God, Nicky,” a new voice groans – a girl’s voice.

Ah, fuck. 

Eddie had noticed the mysterious phenomenon of the way everyone who worked here seemed to be attractive to some extent. Nice on the eyes, always smiling and always flirting in a friendly manner to garner more tips. He’d had plenty of bisexual panics in the bathroom anytime one of his coworkers extended that friendly flirtation his way. All the fellow guys (as few as there were) and all the confident girls he’d been in the trenches with – it didn’t matter, they all affected him. 

Hawkins didn’t have nearly as many pretty people. Eddie sort of felt cheated for having lived a mere twenty minutes from a goldmine of such people for so long, completely unaware. But he also felt sort of relieved, knowing that if he were still a teenager barely scraping by in high school, this coffee shop would have been his downfall with awkward stumbles and feelings caught from all those faux smiles and joking winks that his now coworkers laid on heavy with their regulars. 

With this in mind, he doesn’t know why he wasn’t prepared for when you stepped out of the Jeep. Slamming the door shut behind you, your arms were full with an apron that was definitely not green, along with an oversized water bottle and what he thinks is either a cardigan or jacket. A tote bag slung over your shoulder looked to be stuffed full as well. You were a walking cliche for the type of person that people would expect to work at a coffee shop. The type of person that embodied all those jokes of if an alternative person isn’t making my coffee, it’s not going to taste good. 

Eddie should know; he’d been the butt of many of those style of jokes given that he also fit into that category. With his long hair, with his sparse tattoos, with his new nose ring – he knew he was as much of a cliche as you were. 

Didn’t stop him from staring at you, suddenly wide awake. 

“Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine?” Nicole jokes as she rounds the front of your Jeep, stopping and looking between you and Eddie before she says to you, “You’d think after a month’s vacation you’d be happier to see me.” 

You take two steps forward, lining up right between Eddie and Nicole, and suddenly contort your face to be such an over-exaggerated smile that it’s nearly a grimace. Eddie is so caught up in the scrunch of your nose, he nearly misses the way you grit out a sarcastic “Better?” from between your teeth. 

“Oh, that’s the winner,” Nicole cackles, keys jangling as she shakes them and leads the two of you towards the front of the store. Over her shoulder, she continues to joke, “Keep on smiling like that, and I sense a twenty dollar tip in our future.” 

Eddie still hasn’t said a word. What is he supposed to say? All he can do is trail slightly behind you, doing everything in his power to not let his eyes roam over your legs or backside. You were just wearing black jeans, in line with the same dress-code everyone else followed, but they were doing you favors. 

“Y’know, I think I already saw John’s truck this morning,” your voice was surprisingly pleasant despite the insinuation Nicole had made that your first impression should be grumpy. Far less gritty than Eddie’s would have been had he spoken up, “Think I can sweet talk that out of him? Maybe I’ll ask about his wife. Or- Oh!” you exclaim, bursting with sudden energy that should give Eddie a headache this early, “Put me on bar! I’ll douse his drink in caramel how he likes, that’s sure to tug on his wallet- Sorry, I mean heart-strings.” 

Nicole continues to laugh as she fumbles with unlocking the door, and it’s not lost on Eddie that he has never made any of the fellow baristas laugh like that. Although, to be fair, he has never been quite as enthusiastic as you. He didn’t seemingly bleed sunshine like you. Here the three of you were, outside in the dusky beginnings of a morning, and he could have sworn that the sun had already risen from the light that seemed to emit from you. 

It should have made him nauseated. It kind of did, actually. 

You turn suddenly, just as Nicole finally turns the lock, and face him. Your smile is subtle, eyes so wide he wouldn’t notice the bags even if you had any. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

You stick your hand out and he can see you sticky with it – with hopefulness, with friendliness, with kindness. His stomach churns. 

Nope. Not a chance. 

The moment Nicole opens the door, he’s barely muttering his name back to you, and is rushing past you to enter the store. His shoulder brushes against yours, and he has to tell himself repeatedly he did not just shoulder-check you. He has to tell himself that it’s okay he didn’t meet your level of enthusiasm. He has to tell himself that you’re just another barista, someone else who makes coffee for a living and that this new energy you bring is just due to that vacation that Nicole mentioned. 

It’ll fade. He’ll be fine. At some point, his stomach has to stop churning. 

—

It doesn’t. 

Your energy doesn’t falter, to his surprise. Not only are you sunshine personified, but you’re also damn good at your job. Eddie can only imagine how sluggish he’d be if he had a month off from anything, especially a job, but it doesn’t even seem as though you have to dust any of your skills off for the day. 

You offer to take over opening up the ‘drive thru’ aspect of the store, brewing all the coffees and teas without complaint as Eddie lingers in his misery of shuffling through the tasks of opening up the food portion of the store. As he’s sorting the croissants to be replenished, implementing the technique of FIFO (first in, first out), he can hear Nicole still cackling at whatever you’re saying in the back of the house as you clean the syrup pumps. When he’s labeling all the new breakfast sandwiches for the day with their best-by dates, he can hear you humming a few feet away from him over the clicking of the sticker gun in his hand. And when the clock finally reads 5:30 to signify the time of opening, you’re putting on your apron, tying it around yourself more securely than Eddie always lazily did. Even your black apron seemed to fit on you better than his did, as if you were more made for this job than he was. As if you had years of experience to carry on your shoulders, and God, were you carrying them with grace. Constantly smiling, constantly joking. He’d once thought Nicole incapable of even breaking a grin, but he’d hardly gone longer than a minute without hearing her laugh during the time of your opening together. 

God, he sort of hated you. 

You never even mentioned how rudely he’d shrugged off your introduction. Occasionally, he’d even caught you looking his way during the conversation, a soft expression on your face as if you were ready to include him in all the inside jokes at a moment’s notice. 

He made sure to consistently stare straight ahead, never once seeming to glance your way when you wore that expression. 

You were just too nice. You were putting all the other openers to shame right before his eyes, himself included, and he hated you for it. 

Once the store is open, John is the first customer in drive, as always. Eddie wears the headset (the one you’d grabbed for him, sanitizing it and slotting a freshly charged battery in without him even asking. God, he hated you.) and listens in to you greeting the awful bastard, and his stomach does another flip. 

“Good morning, John,” you chirp happily. He couldn’t see your face from around the corner, but he could only imagine that you were wearing a smile. Maybe you even had that damn camera on so that the customers could see you just as you could see them. 

He waits. Anxious to hear John’s grumpy reply, be reassured when someone else also didn’t match your energy. The man had never been pleasant a single day that Eddie had worked thus far. Simply barking out his order, acting offended when someone didn’t recognize him. 

If anyone was going to be cruel to you, Eddie would bet all five dollars in his pocket that it would be John. 

But even John wasn’t fucking mean to you. 

He had replied in the most cheerful tone Eddie had ever heard leave the man’s throat.

“And who am I speaking to?” he almost sounds teasing. It fans at Eddie’s irrational irritability. 

“I’ll give you three guesses.” 

He hates the way your customer service voice was so similar to just your normal voice. A bit squeakier, a bit more polite, but still bottled sunshine. He hates how nicely it caressed his eardrum as compared to the grate of some of the other barista’s tones while on drive thru. He hates that some deep part of him secretly hoped that Nicole stationed you there your entire shift, and that if she did, he would fight tooth and nail to keep this damn headset on. Just to hear your voice. Just to hear your light.

“Only three?” John’s gruff voice scoffs, “There’s only one person who works here who is this damn cheery before eight in the morning.” 

Nicole laughs from where she’s bent over to put down a few of the sanitizer buckets by the bars, shaking her head as she also listens in over her headset. 

“I’m making it easy on you, then,” you say as you suddenly come into view for Eddie. He’s trying to replenish the sandwiches and protein boxes that the store keeps on display for the customer by the register, still working through his morning tasks as he realizes you’ve completed yours.

Man, he fucking hated you. 

You don’t miss a beat as you begin to tap one of the espresso machines awake, punching all the right buttons to pull John’s espresso shot before you turn to make your way towards the cold beverage station. “You still drinking the same thing, old man?” 

“I’m not old.”

“Right, and I’m not already over-caffeinated,” that’s a lie. He hasn’t seen you touch a drop of coffee this entire time, “Just pull on up. It’s a billion dollars, or whatever your total normally is.” 

John’s cackle is cut off by him pulling away from the speaker box, effectively disconnecting the two way mic. Even Eddie finds himself nearly grinning at your reply, but he stops himself. Because you’re annoying. Because no one should be this witty this early. Because the ability to make others laugh this often should be a cardinal sin. 

He stops the grin because he hates you… right?

You do manage to get a tip out of John. Eddie sees it with his own two eyes. It’s a quick deposit of whatever spare change the stingiest man Eddie had ever had the displeasure of meeting has lying around his car, and it happens so quickly while you’re leant out the window to pass the man his receipt that he always requests that Eddie almost convinces himself it didn’t happen. But it did. He saw it with his own two eyes, as he tripped over his two left feet, effectively nearly knocking Nicole over with him. 

The look she gives him makes his stomach twist this time as his heart lurches. It’s a knowing look. It’s despicable. 

She doesn’t say a word until later into the shift, once more baristas are scattered across the floor and peak is in full swing. Eddie isn’t kept on food, and you aren’t kept to manage taking orders or run the window – he’s the one reassigned to the window position as you are moved to the cafe bar. He’s tasked with quick connections before handing out drinks to bored business people, as you fly through making drinks for both mobile orders and any customers that choose to physically walk into the store. 

Nicole puts herself on the position of ‘DTO’ – she greets the drive thru customers over the headset and takes their orders, her tone not nearly as honey-sweet as yours had been. She’s lacking in jokes, she sticks to a script that must have taken her years to make sound even remotely natural. 

Eddie’s just grateful he doesn’t have to wear a headset and listen to her directly in his ear. 

Rush has died down when she turns to him and cocks a brow with her hip. He has the window shut, fiddling with his thumbs as he anxiously awaits for the partner on drive bar to finish making the iced white mocha for the customer currently sitting on their phone. He’s sure the look she shoots his way is in regards to the fact that he isn’t ‘connecting with the customer’ or putting himself through insufferable small talk. 

It isn’t.

“Do you not like her?” 

His head shoots up, fully meeting her curious gaze, “Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” she clarifies, “Do you… not like her?” 

“I don’t know her,” he weakly defends himself.

He had been a dick to you this morning, hadn’t he? What a weak defense for being a bad person to someone who makes this entire store glow simply by being here. 

“You should give her a chance,” Nicole speaks softly as she leans back on the counter that holds the order screens, “I… She can be a lot, but she’s one of our best. Think of her as the people’s princess, so to speak.” 

He knows you’re one of the best here, just in the short few hours he’s caught glimpses of you. He has no idea how you’re so quick with making drinks, or how you manage to hold such genuine sounding conversations with all of the customers who stand right at the hand off plane. He just gets irritable when they stare at him with prying eyes as he tries (and fails) to keep up his pace. 

“I… I can see it,” he nods, bringing a hand up to pinch his bottom lip, “I mean, John clearly loves her.” 

Nicole gives a pointed look, “He does. She doesn’t take his shit – him and his wife bring her gifts for every holiday. They know her damn birthday and bring her cards. It’s insufferable.” 

He cracks a shy smile at that, “They bring her birthday cards?”

“They bring her birthday cards,” she echoes back to him. Eddie finally receives the drink he was waiting on and turns, quick to hand it out with a soft mutterance of ‘have a good day’. Once he’s finished and the drive thru is officially empty, he faces her once more, “You don’t have to like her as much as everyone else. I know you’re still new and adjusting but… she’s one of the best for a reason.” 

“Because she can turn out drinks like it’s no one’s business?” Eddie questions, side stepping and lifting his chin in your direction as you finish yet another drink, as if to prove his point. 

“That,” Nicole shrugs her shoulders and pushes off the counter, “And because she actually gives a damn.” Eddie’s brows shoot up as he waits for her to continue, “She knows these customers, man. Learns about their lives, hears them out. Remembers the small things. She’s the same way with all of us, too. She once got turned down from being a shift lead because she’s too nice. Have you ever heard of someone being shot down from a job for that?” Nicole pauses, and Eddie can only shake his head, feeling the ends of his ponytail brush the back of his neck, “She has the management experience – she knows how to run this place. Sometimes, I see it. The way she steps up and takes responsibility. She chooses to be that kind even if it makes her seem like a nut job. She chooses to let people hear walk all over her, because she cares. She cares more about treating us as humans or whatever than she does an upgrade in pay.”

“Makes sense they wouldn’t make her a shift, then,” Eddie dares to say, which earns him a sharp look, “I mean, management positions aren’t for the weak of heart. You have to make tough decision-”

“Once, a man was harassing one of our baristas. This dude who was married. Came in like clockwork and picked up a mobile order under his wife’s name, wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept flirting with one of our poor girls. I’ve never really been afraid of her, but I was every time that man stepped foot in here,” Nicole grabs a rag and starts to wipe down the counters with a low whistle, as if she isn’t spilling serious store lore right now to Eddie. As if she isn’t bringing on more questions than answers, “She’s not weak of heart. She’s good of heart. And if she hadn’t been on vacation, she would have been your trainer. You don’t have to like her, like I said, but it would do you well to give her a chance.” 

Trainer? 

Carmen had mentioned something about another barista being the usual trainer. She had even tried to joke around with Eddie that he would have liked the other girl better, something about how she was funnier and easier to get along with. 

You. You were the girl she’d been talking about. The people’s princess, as Nicole had put it. 

Eddie opens his mouth to say something in reply, although he isn’t quite sure what he can say. 

God, he had been a fucking dick. And Nicole was matching sure he felt all seven levels of Hell, of guilt, for it. 

It ate him alive for the rest of his shift. His stomach churned with it. All that guilt gnawed on him from the inside out, using his bones for toothpicks, and he already knew what he needed to do without Nicole saying it.

—

“Did that hurt?”

The two of you got off your shifts at the same time, as most openers do. At ten o’clock precisely, Nicole was shooing the two of you off the floor, two fresh baristas taking both your places as you scurried to the back. 

He’d overheard the joke made ten minutes prior, Nicole speaking to a fellow shift lead about who would be replacing you, already mourning your absence. She didn’t make such a joke about Eddie.

“Huh?” you look up quickly from where you had been carefully rolling and folding your apron into a bundle. 

Eddie gestures vaguely to his nose again, repeating himself, “Did it hurt?” 

It was the best he could do – pathetic small talk about the nose piercings of yours that had caught his eye. 

You grin radiantly, and he tries to swallow down that instinctive voice that whisper hate, hate, hate. “Which one?”

Right. You had multiple nose piercings. A hoop that matches Eddie’s own, only on the left nostril rather than the right like his, and that septum piercing. He’d probably look dumb to ask about the nostril considering he had his done, and should already know that it definitely doesn’t feel nice. 

“The septum,” he clarifies, “That combination, though, um… It looks sick.” 

Oh, he sounds so fucking stupid right now. He wishes the sticky floors beneath the two of you would split and swallow him whole. 

“Eh,” you shrug, finally glancing away from him to finish wrapping the strings of your apron snugly around the bundle you’d made of it, “My nostril honestly hurt worse. If you’re thinking of getting one,” you pause, and look up, offering him a look of pure mischief. Heart, stomach, mind. They all lurch with that look as you whisper, as if letting him in on a secret, “Do it.”

“I don’t think I could pull it off,” he’s quick to blurt out, eyes widening, resisting the urge to take several steps back and put distance between you two. 

Fuck, he didn’t hate you. It hits him like a truck – this shift had managed to slip through his fingers so quickly. The fastest one to date. Between all of your jokes, all of the laughter you managed to pull out of others and that he had to fight down, the day had flown past as easily as a shift really could. 

He regrets spending the shift moping. He regrets ignoring your introduction. He regrets not giving you a chance. 

“I think you could,” your tote bag now hangs from your shoulder, and you have your keys prepared in one hand as you hold your water bottle in the other, “Everyone says that, but if you can already pull off the nostril, adding a little septum to the mix never hurt nobody.” 

Is your face stuck like that? Stuck with a subtle and shy smile pulling at the lips, making the corners of your eyes crinkle in the slightest? 

He hopes not. If it is, he’ll never be able to have a normal conversation with you. He’ll always be too distracted, too infuriated, too overwhelmed. 

“You’re a very optimistic person,” he almost lets it slip out as a scoff, but refrains, Nicole’s words echoing in his mind. It would do you well to give her a chance.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” you casually say to him. 

“Did you just quote Star Wars to me?” 

Eddie is aghast, staring at you with even more awe than before. And you – oh, you look so goddamn proud of yourself and the way you’ve left him shellshocked, smugly lifting your chin and smiling more intentionally. You’re smiling so widely that your eyes pinch nearly fully shut and even more of that sunshine is now flooding the backroom up to Eddie’s knees.

“I don’t know,” you start to step around Eddie, carrying an air of arrogance that would only be so endearing from someone who had been proven to be as kind as you were, “Did I?”

You never give him the chance to answer. You leave him there, standing in the middle of the back of house and not even clocked out yet as you walk away with a bounce in your step and a quick have a good day, Eddie! over your shoulder.

When he’s finally off the clock and having given a half-ass goodbye to everyone on the floor (which no one replied to as enthusiastically as they had yours, by the way), you’re still sitting in your damn yellow Jeep. You give him a slight wave through the windshield as he makes a beeline for his van, and he doesn’t even bother to return it. Pretends he doesn’t see it. Looks straight ahead. If Nicole is watching from the drive thru window that serves as a front row seat to the entire interaction, she’s going to rip him a new one next shift they work together. 

God, Eddie wishes he hated you. 

Instead, he’s left hoping that next time he opens, you’re there to make the time fly. Maybe he’ll be the one quoting Star Wars to you. If he can ever get the stick out of his ass, that is.

taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles

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#my writing #coffee shop blues #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #barista!eddie munson #this is what i do with my free time before and after work #and on my breaks lol #makes the grind more bearable #we needed some fluff #can i come out of jail now?

[nivisdreaming]

i have a request 👉👈 what do you think aftercare with dom!eddie would look like if reader used their safeword, but they were really upset about having to do that? maybe they’re feeling a little unsafe and don’t know what to do, cause they just wanna take care of eddie 🥺❤️

anon you look into my brain. i literally fell asleep thinking about this the night before i got this request??? anyway. i can’t resist doing a full thing for this i have many thoughts for you sweet flower child.

Summary: Overstimulated and panicked, reader has to safeword during a scene. Feeling guilty for cutting it off midway and scaring Eddie, they desperately try to make it up to him in what they believe to be the only way possible. Eddie puts them back in their place in the sweetest manner possible.

Tags: smut to hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, overstimulation, choking, safeword use, anxious!reader, gn!reader, soft dom!eddie, entirely excessive use of petnames and praise by author

WC: ~900

“Just one more baby, come one more time for me. You can do it, be good for me.” Eddie picks up his pace for what you’re convinced must be the sixth or seventh time at this point as he leans forward to growl in your ear, “You want to make me feel good, right? Then come all over my cock, do it, obey me.” His hand juts out to wrap around your throat, leaving your head spinning, and not just from the overstimulation. Between his grip around you and his thrusting you can’t catch your breath, can’t slow down the pounding of your heart, can’t move, can’t take it anymore, can’t take more.

Fuck. This is when your supposed to safeword, right? This was one of those scenarios, where the scene is too real and the adrenaline searing painfully instead of pleasurably. The word exists for a reason. It’s not bad to use it. Right? Eddie won’t be mad? He always said you could use it no matter what. Friend’s don’t lie. You would still be good. Still be good enough.

“Metallica!” The word jumped from you in between gasps for air, and the squeezing around your throat ceased, making it so much easier to think already. Your vision came back into focus, and the thumping in your chest slows enough to lower the ringing in your ears. Thoughts become clear enough to process the situation just as you make eye contact with a panicked Eddie, who has pulled out and stopped touching you altogether, his hands raised in front of his bare chest as if to show surrender. You can’t suppress the pang of guilt that spreads through you at the fear in his eyes.

His jaw simply hangs open for a moment, as if he can’t quite get his bearings, but the tears that well in your eyes spring him into action. “Honey, honey, don’t cry baby, what’s wrong? I didn’t hurt you, did I? Let me see your neck, I didn’t squeeze the wrong spot, did I?” He lunges forward once again and reaches to inspect your throat, but you flinch backwards instinctively. The twist of guilt hurts so much worse than the soreness in your core from how hard he had fucked you. “Baby, please talk to me, was the ‘obey’ thing too much? You flinched away from me, did I scare you?”

You shake your head no and scoot back towards him with a sniffle, grabby hands raised to cling onto his bicep. You hide your face in his shoulder and muffle your words as you speak, “I’m sorry Teddy, it wasn’t your fault, promise. ‘M so sorry…” His mouth flies open to scold you for apologizing, but quickly shuts again when you begin to kiss up his chest and onto his neck. “Please let me make it up to you, Eds, can still be good, promise I can still be good. Can use my mouth, sir, do all the work and take care of you, or let you rough me up and fuck my throat. Whatever you want, I’ll give, Eddie, I’ll be so good for you, please let me help,” He finally cuts off your rambling by capturing your lips in his own for a split second, only to pull back immediately and fill up any potential space you could use to continue groveling.

“None of that, little one, thought I’d taught you better than that, hm?” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I will never, ever, punish you for using your safeword, or ask you to keep going after safewording unless the problem is resolved.” Another kiss is delivered to each of your cheeks. “You are my good baby because you are you, sweetheart. You don’t need to do anything extra to be absolutely perfect for me. You could say I could never touch you again, and I would still look at you like you created the moon and the stars, hun.” One more sweet kiss to your lips, like taking a full breath for the first time all night.

When he pulls away this time, tears are fully streaming down your face, and a few have even started to pinprick to the surface of his own eyes. You resist the urge to wipe them away. “Not mad at me? Even though I didn’t listen?” Your voice comes out breathy and soft, mumbles cutting down your words and making them sound childish.

“Sweetheart, you listened so well. You listened to your own body, and to the love of your life, who wants nothing more than for you to stop any situation in which you are not comfortable. I could never be mad at my good little baby. Never.” He pulls you in for a tight hug, both of you squeezing each other tight until both yours eyes start to droop in exhaustion. Eddie gives you a sleepy smile and hauls a blanket over the both of you, “We can talk more about what happened in the morning, okay little one? It’s bedtime for my good baby now, gotta let you get all rested up and feeling better. I’ll hold you all night though, okay? You need anything, you wake me, don’t try to get up, you know how shaky your legs get. Let me take care of you, now. You’re safe in my arms, love. Have sweet dreams, I love you so much.” You’re asleep by the time he’s a quarter of the way into his talk, but he can’t bring himself to mind. Your sweet snores make great background noise anyway.

#thanks for requesting btw!!! #this was so much fun #i need more excuses to be sappy #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #dom!eddie munson #sub!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff