#Wayne and Eddie would be like oh yeah? death to you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

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Request: wrong number au, Eddie texts Gareth something personal but puts in 1 wrong number & ends up texting Steve. The two of them hit it off & start chatting & then when they meet IRL they are completely head over heels in love & its cute as fuck

MY LOVE MY LOVE MY LOVE!!! LOVE A GOOD WRONG NUMBER AU!!! I can't believe I've never written it before now. I also had to actually include Gareth because I am actually obsessed with him lately, and I just think it's really neat that we can make these characters our own. This was such a fun and cute request! I didn't do the inappropriate route because I thought this was hilarious so sorry about that. I made up for it with something else! - Mickala ❤️

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GARE BEAR! You won’t believe it but i dropped my phone in a sewer. Lost everything.

He had never been so happy about having his closest friends’ numbers memorized. His phone was somewhere under the streets of Chicago, floating through dirty water and sewage, dying a slow and painful death.

He texted everyone else one at a time, let them know he had a new number and to completely delete the old one because it would never be recovered.

They were used to things like this happening; He lost his phone annually at this point and it was cheaper just to get a new number than transfer everything to a new one.

He went to dial Wayne, the old school part of him insisting on phone calls instead of texts still, when Gareth’s name popped up with a new text.

Not sure who Gare Bear is, but sorry about your phone. That’s shitty.

Eddie let out a loud laugh.

did you mean to make a pun?

Did it make you laugh?

yes

Then yes.

Eddie sat down on a bench, entirely focused on his conversation with this stranger.

Did you find your Gare Bear yet?

Not yet but i think i’m pretty happy talking to you for now

Smooth, Eddie.

Admittedly, he was in a hell of a dry spell.

Going on almost two years, actually.

A little flirting with a stranger never hurt anybody, not when he clearly needed some practice.

Not sure if your Gare Bear would like it very much though

Wait, what?

Eddie stared at his phone, trying to comprehend what that could mean. Why would Gareth not want him talking to a stranger?

I hope you find your partner though!

Oh.

Oh!

Eddie hit the call button in the corner before he could even register what he was doing.

“Hello?”

Oh no, he sounded hot.

“Hi. So, Gareth is very much not my partner. He probably actually wishes I would really forget his number,” Eddie rushed out.

“Um. Okay?”

“He’s been my best friend for ten years and he thinks I’m a mess. Not a partner,” Eddie further clarified.

“Got it. Not a partner.”

“Yes, exactly.”

They stayed silent for a moment before Eddie coughed.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Steve. Sorry about your phone, seriously that sucks,” he sounded genuinely apologetic, like he personally threw Eddie’s phone in the sewer.

“Oh, no big deal. I lose my phone more often than I go out with someone,” Eddie said.

Why did he say that?

Steve let out a laugh and it was like music.

Eddie couldn’t help the smile taking over his face at his laugh, already knew he wasn’t gonna be able to let this guy go without learning more about him.

“So you’re, what? Celibate?” Steve asked.

“Far from it. Well, maybe not far from it. Temporarily, maybe. It’s been a while,” Eddie admitted.

“How long?” Steve asked, a loud bang coming from his end of the phone. “Sorry, I had to go outside for some privacy.”

Eddie wasn’t going to read into that. He wasn’t.

“Two years give or take. I mean I’m not counting shitty dates that ended before they got worse. So, yeah. Two years.”

“Been a year for me, but. Yeah, I get it. My last relationship didn’t end on the best terms. She decided I was too in love with her I guess,” Steve sighed, voice sounding pained.

She.

Steve was probably straight.

There was no way he’d be lucky enough for Steve to like men.

Or for Steve to like him.

“I can’t really imagine breaking up with someone because they loved me too much. I’m usually the one who falls too hard,” Eddie admitted.

“Yeah, well, same here,” Steve sounded sad, a bit withdrawn.

Eddie wanted to hear him laugh again.

“I doubt either of us have ever fallen as hard as my phone did down a drain,” Eddie said sadly.

Steve let out a loud laugh and Eddie smiled.

“This might sound crazy, but I’m kind of glad your phone decided to live in the sewers,” Steve said when he finally calmed down. “And maybe a little too happy that you typed your friend’s number wrong.”

“Oh really? Why’s that?”

Was this flirting? Was he successfully having a flirtatious conversation with a potentially very hot guy?

“So I can be bold and ask if you maybe wanted to meet up somewhere?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“So you’re in Chicago?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“For the last five years, yeah.”

“You busy tonight?”

Eddie’s heart stopped.

He was really going to meet up with a stranger just because he liked his laugh and hoped he was hot.

He’d done more with less.

“Yeah, actually. I’m getting dinner with this guy I accidentally texted,” Eddie smirked, looking down at his feet.

“Dinner? What a lucky guy. Where are you going?” Steve sounded amused.

“Well, it depends on what he likes. I’ve been craving some pierogies. Ever been to Staropolska?” Eddie asked.

Gareth’s family owned it, and he used to eat there two or three times a week while they were in college, usually working off his bill in the kitchen doing dishes after.

He hadn’t been in a couple months, work keeping him busy and his budget being pretty tight when he moved into a studio apartment by himself.

He had enough to treat himself tonight though.

“The one on Milwaukee? Yeah. One of my favorite places to get devolay,” Steve sounded surprised that he knew it.

“You won’t believe this, but the friend I was trying to text when I got you, his family owns that place.”

“No way! Then we have to. We owe it to the guy who has almost my exact phone number,” Steve responded.

“Meet you there at seven?” Eddie asked, suddenly more nervous.

“Seven sounds good.”

“Okay.”

Steve giggled. Eddie fell in love.

“We should probably hang up.”

“Should we?” Eddie asked, not wanting to stop talking to him yet.

“Yes, I have to do my hair. Gotta impress the guy who drops his phone in the sewer and texts strangers about it.”

“He sounds like a loser. Don’t put too much effort in,” Eddie sighed. “But okay. See you at seven.”

“See you then.”

They both stayed on the line for a minute.

“Okay. For real. Bye,” Steve laughed.

“Bye, Stevie.”

He hung up before he could convince himself to talk to him for the rest of the afternoon.

He breathed out a loud sigh, smiling as he realized he had a date.

He dialed Gareth’s real number immediately.

“Gareth, I have a date!”

“What is this number, Eddie?”

“Oh, I dropped my phone in the sewers. Not important. I have a date!”

“Jesus Christ. Okay. Come over then.”

—-----------------------------------

Gareth had been his pre-date hype man since high school, though he wasn’t very good at it.

Mostly he calmed Eddie’s nerves and helped make sure his hair didn’t look like he just woke up, which was often its unfortunate state of being.

“So, you don’t know this guy,” Gareth said from his bed.

“No.”

“And you talked for like two seconds and decided you’re in love with him,” he continued.

“Yes.”

“And you think this is totally normal and sane?”

“I didn’t say that. But we just…I dunno. We clicked. I haven’t been that at ease with someone in a long time. It felt natural,” Eddie fell back on his bed, starfishing so his arm and leg hit Gareth’s legs.

“Dude, I’m not discouraging it. I’m happy for you. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it isn’t as easy when you meet,” Gareth said softly.

“Yeah, thanks. I think it’ll be okay, though.”

“Alright. Tell babcia I’m coming by tomorrow for lunch.”

Eddie sat up and gave Gareth a quick hug.

“Thanks Gare Bear!”

—-------------------------------------------

He arrived 20 minutes early so he could sneak in the back to say hi to Gareth’s grandmother, who still insisted on getting her hands on the food every day for a couple of hours despite being nearly 80 years old.

“Babcia!”

“Eddie! My kochany! You forget to visit and I forget what you look like!” she rushed over, flour and oil stains all over her apron.

He should have kept some distance so his shirt didn’t get ruined, but he ignored the part of his brain telling him to look perfect for his date so he could get a hug.

“You know I have to watch my money,” he said against her shoulder.

“And you know I feed you for free if you clean up after yourself. No excuse,” she pulled away and looked him over. “You look handsome. Why?”

Eddie put his hands on his hips.

“What? Don’t I always look handsome?”

“Of course, but this is different. Your hair is smooth and you smell like the perfume store,” she smirked. “Is it a girl? Or a boy? Or a someone?”

“It’s a boy. We’ve never met in person, so I wanted to make a good first impression,” he admitted.

“Oh! How lovely! What’s his name?” She was back to kneading dough, but kept her eyes on him.

“Steve. He actually has been here before, loves the devolay?”

Babcia froze.

“Steve? Oh goodness.” She turned to the sink and washed her hands, muttering under her breath about something.

Eddie’s heart sank. Babcia didn’t seem happy about this.

“What’s wrong? You know him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Is he not a good guy? Has he been mean to you? I’ll call and cancel right now,” he insisted, reaching for his phone in his pocket.

“No, no. Nothing like that. He is a very sweet boy. He got broken up with in this restaurant a few months back. Tore me to pieces. He just sat here for hours crying. I moved him to a corner booth for his privacy and he left me a $100 tip and ever since then when he comes in I make sure to give him as many szarlotka as he wants.” She touched Eddie’s shoulder. “You be good to him. He has a nice heart.”

Eddie’s mind raced.

Why had Steve agreed to come here for a date if this is where he’d been broken up with? Why did he even bother coming back if it held such bad memories?

What if he didn’t see this as a date?

The front door chimed and he heard the employee at the front welcome someone.

“He will be good for you, drogi.”

Eddie nodded before making his way to the front, stopping in his tracks when he saw the most beautiful man he’d ever seen standing at the podium, talking to the employee with a smile.

“That’s him,” Babcia said from behind him. “Go get him.”

She shoved him forward, nearly making him trip, which caught the attention of Steve.

He looked over with a curious smile, and then realization seemed to hit him.

“Steve?” Eddie managed to ask, loud enough to be heard over the few full tables in the restaurant.

“Eddie?” he asked back, hesitantly moving towards him.

“I, um,” Eddie started, then cleared his throat. “I usually sit by the window, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfect,” Steve nodded.

It was cliche, like the room around them closed into just them existing together, like the stars had aligned exactly right for this moment to happen.

They sat down at the table Eddie usually sat at, staring across the table at each other in slight awe.

Eddie really hoped that Steve was having the same feelings he was.

But one thing was stopping Eddie from being completely enraptured.

“Is this a date?” he asked suddenly.

“What?” Steve seemed surprised by his question. “I mean, yeah. I’d like it to be. I thought it was.”

Eddie nodded once, but remained quiet, thinking.

“Oh God, it wasn’t, was it? You were just being nice. What is it with this restaurant? If I didn’t love the food so much or babcia, I would never step foot here again, I swear-”

Eddie put his hand on Steve’s to calm him down, frown on his face.

“Woah. What?”

“I just. I don’t have the best history with dates here and I guess I didn’t learn the first time something bad happened, and now I’m being too much too fast again in this place and-”

Eddie pulled Steve’s hand up to his face, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Stevie, calm down. This is a date. I’ll have as many dates here as you want to to get rid of whatever negative stuff you associate with this place. Babcia would hate that I ruined this place for you,” he said quietly.

Steve seemed to relax at his words.

And if you wanna tell me about what happened, you can. If it’ll help,” Eddie offered.

Before Steve could reply, Gareth’s cousin, Ben, came to take their order.

It was a quick order, both knowing exactly what they wanted, and then Steve looked back at him.

“It’s just. My last girlfriend, who I was with for almost three years, dumped me here. It was kind of out of the blue for me, and I had a really hard time that night.”

Eddie felt his heart break.

How could someone do that to Steve? He didn’t need to know him better to know that he didn’t deserve that, especially not if babcia had taken him under her wing so quickly.

“She must be awful to have let you go like that,” Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand in his, resisting the urge to go to his side of the table and hold him.

Steve shrugged and looked down at their hands.

“I mean, I should have known. She was never much for romance or spending time together that didn’t involve work or school. I was looking at engagement rings and she was looking at apartments to get away from me. I was just…really blinded by what I thought was love,” Steve smiled sadly at him.

“It wasn’t?”

“Well, it may have been a type of love. It was more comfort than anything. She was kind of all I had for the first year we were together, and I think I just ignored how unhealthy that was for both of us. And then I met Robin in college, and she was like the opposite of Nancy in every way. A few months before Nancy broke up with me, I told her that Robin’s parents kicked her out when she came out to them and that she needed a place to stay until we graduated. She agreed, then never made any attempt at getting to know her. And I didn’t read into it, Nancy isn’t like, super talkative with people she isn’t already close with, and Robin just kinda stayed to herself when Nancy was home.” Steve took a shaky breath. “But it turns out she didn’t bother getting to know her because she already knew she was gonna break up with me and leave the apartment to me and Robin, so.she just. Didn’t bother. Robin warned me, but I didn’t listen.”

Eddie wanted to cry.

Steve’s voice was full of pain, but not in a way that told him he still loved her, or still hoped they would get back together. More that she broke a part of him that he still hadn’t been able to fix no matter how hard he tried or wanted to.

“Was she jealous?” Eddie asked, trying so hard to understand what could have happened.

“I dunno. I mean, Robin’s a lesbian, and I definitely never had feelings for her anyway. Nancy was always so sure of herself, I can’t imagine she’d be jealous.”

“It sounds like she didn’t appreciate you very much.”

“What do you mean?” Steve didn’t sound mad, just curious.

“Well, she didn’t even make an effort to get to know your best friend, right? And it sounds like she was too busy focusing on her future to even think about what you looked like in it, and instead of trying to plan it with you, she made a future for her. She sounds a bit selfish,” Eddie shrugged.

Instead of being upset, Steve laughed.

God, Eddie loved that laugh.

“Sorry, it’s just that you sound exactly like Robin. You’d probably be two peas in a pod.”

“Tell me about her,” Eddie genuinely wanted to know more about the person who kept Steve going.

Their food arrived in the middle of the story of how Steve and Robin met, but it didn’t stop him from continuing.

Eddie listened with a fond smile, filling in Steve’s gaps of silence as he chewed a bite of food with questions or something related to what he’d been talking about.

It was easy.

It was fun.

Halfway through the meal, Steve’s foot rested against one of his and it felt like electricity shooting through his bones.

Eddie told him about Gareth, and his family who had pretty much adopted him when they both moved here from a small town in Indiana. He talked about his uncle who raised him for most of his life, who visited every Christmas despite being on a really tight budget.

Time passed quickly, but not at all.

They hadn’t realized how long they’d been sitting there until babcia came out without her apron to hand deliver an apple tart.

“You boys enjoy. I’ll see you both soon!” she said as she smacked a kiss on top of each of their heads.

Both of them blushed, but tried to cover it up with a bite of food.

As they finished, Steve looked outside to see how dark it was, how few people were left walking the streets.

“Guess we should head out,” he muttered, sounding like that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Would you wanna come to my place? We don’t have to do anything except talk, I promise. I just don’t really want this to end yet,” Eddie suggested.

“Really? I haven’t bored you?” Steve asked, just a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

Eddie shook his head.

“Not at all. I’d really like to get a chance to love you the way you deserve,” Eddie said.

Steve’s eyes widened.

Eddie should back up, should say something less intense.

But if this ruined it, then at least he said what he was thinking.

“You think you could love me?” Steve asked, barely more than a whisper.

“I think I already do a little,” Eddie admitted.

Steve blinked at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape.

“I need to kiss you,” he finally said.

“Now? Here?” Eddie smiled.

“Now. Here.”

“I won’t stop you.”

Steve stood from the table and stood in front of Eddie, placing both hands on his cheeks and leaning down.

Their lips brushed in a barely-there kiss, softer than Eddie expected.

Steve stayed there for a moment, eyes closed, and Eddie couldn’t help the words tumbling from him.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

If someone had said it to him, he would think they were just trying to get him into their bed, but that wasn’t the case here and he hoped Steve knew that.

“People used to call me a charmer, but I don’t think I’m half as good at it as you,” Steve whispered, his breath ghosting against Eddie’s lips.

“Just honest.”

“Take me home,” Steve said, opening his eyes and staring at Eddie, his eyes glowing with something close to love.

—-------------------------------------

They stayed up all night, never doing more than kissing and mapping out patterns on each others’ skin.

They talked about everything, even the painful parts of life, even the parts that they hadn’t shared with anyone else.

It didn’t make any sense that someone who had been a stranger not even 24 hours ago could already mean so much.

When the sun started to shine through the curtains of Eddie’s apartment, Steve sighed and buried his face in Eddie’s neck.

“I have to go to work,” though he burrowed his entire body further into the bed and Eddie’s side.

“You could call in sick,” Eddie suggested, pressing a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“Robin would kill me.”

He and Robin worked together as team teachers at an elementary school. When one of them missed, it left the other with 34 kids alone.

Plus, Steve loved his job, worked hard to be a teacher, and hated missing a day if he didn’t need to.

“Maybe you could bring Robin here after work? I can make dinner?” Eddie’s job was pretty easy, marketing for an Indie record label based out of New York remotely really kept him busy for a couple hours a day and the rest of the time was spent writing his own music.

Steve sat up and looked down at him, his hair ruffled from Eddie running his fingers through it for the last eight hours.

“You’d wanna meet Robin?”

“Yeah, if you want me to. She sounds like fun.”

Steve started crying.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry. Good job, Munson, already ruined something good,” Eddie was reaching for a tissue from his bedside table.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I’m just tired and emotional. And just. It means a lot that you’d wanna meet her,” Steve said between gasps for air as he continued to cry.

“Of course I do. I could even invite Gareth over, too, if you want. He won’t believe that our date went well,” Eddie joked, brushing the tears away from Steve’s cheeks.

“I’d love to meet him,” Steve said, sniffling.

“When can you guys get here?”

“Usually we’re done by four, but sometimes we stay later to finish grading stuff. Maybe we should say six?”

“Got it. Any allergies?”

“Robin is allergic to shellfish. She says she is. I think she just doesn’t like them,” Steve rolled his eyes.

“No shellfish, got it. Any preferences, my love?”

Steve blushed at the term of endearment, looking down before he leaned in to kiss Eddie softly.

“Anything you make will be great.”

“You wanna borrow some clothes for work?” Eddie asked.

“Do you have any business casual stuff?”

Eddie gagged.

“Unfortunately, it’s required for the job sometimes. Far left of the closet should have something,” he nodded towards the small closet by the bathroom.

Eddie watched as Steve walked over and picked out his only pair of khaki pants and a navy button down. Steve looked back at him and winked before he nodded towards the bathroom.

“Could use some help working the shower if you’re willing to,” he smirked.

Eddie jumped up from the bed and ran into the bathroom, ignoring the way Steve was laughing.

“The hot water is tricky sometimes. I should probably get in there too to make sure it stays hot,” Eddie said as he stripped off his pants.

“Definitely. Wouldn’t want me to get cold,” Steve put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. “Kiss me?”

Eddie leaned in to kiss him slowly, letting his tongue brush along his lips just to get a taste.

“Okay?” Eddie checked in.

“Yeah. You remember what you said last night? About loving me like I deserve?”

Eddie nodded.

“I want you to. And I want to love you back.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #gareth emerson #wrong number au #modern au #ficlet #request #getting together

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 7 months

Text

i had a worm wiggle it's way into my head when 'work song' came on on my way home today.

pairing: steddie | word count: 2,949 | rated: T

cw: major character death (no gore, nothing descriptive, though it's stated that Eddie was sick and getting weaker, then implied that he dies.)

Eddie Munson’s mother was a witch.

He didn’t know this until he was stricken with the same sickness that took her from him years and years before, but he knows now.

He knows from the small chest he found buried deep in his and his Uncle’s attic one day after learning of his ailment, and the handful of months he should expect to have left, from the local doctor.

The chest was brimming with scrolls, tomes, candles, stones, herbs, vials, even a small pewter cauldron.

“I shoulda known,” was all Wayne had said, heeding Eddie’s beckoning call that hazy afternoon.

Eddie sorted through everything he had found; spending hours every day flipping through each book and journal, deciphering his mother’s handwriting and the spells she had inscribed onto the pages.

He even started to try a few; his mother’s ‘powers’, per sae, had come from the earth around her, writing in the largest, most disheveled of the journals that all she had needed to do was to listen to Mother Earth herself, listen to what she had to tell her.

So, Eddie practiced.

Small things at first, like seamlessly re-attaching the snipped off head of a daisy back to it’s stem, snipping it off again only to regrow an identical one in it’s place. Even starting a broken branch of the pine outside the Munson home on it’s way to a new green version of what was lost.

Eddie counted himself very lucky that Wayne was not one to believe the church’s nearly unhinged ramblings about witchcraft being the work of the Devil, and let Eddie practice a couple of the other simpler things on him.

“Jus’ don’t go thinkin’ I’mma let you chop my head off, boy.”

Wayne’s body aching from following their ox around all day with the plow? “Here, drink this, it should help.” It did.

Couple of Wayne’s fingers get snapped under the same ox’s hoof? A little harder, but he managed; the digits sore and achy that night, but good as new come morning.

“There a hair spell in that book, Ed?” Wayne joked one morning over breakfast, a good three quarters of the way through the six months the doctor gave Eddie, and a couple after finding Maggie Munson’s secret.

“Hmmmm….I dunno Uncle Wayne,” Eddie flips through his journal absently, “I think a Get Your Hair Back spell is too close to a love charm to work right. You could end up with hair all over your body and not just on that beautiful, shiny, head o’yours.”

“Love spells are touchy,” Maggie’s journal had said, “There are a rumored few that work, but only for the truest forms. I’ve tried some simple potions and charms…Al still left..and if they didn’t work…” the rest was easily filled in.

“Oh yeah? Then how's about a Cure What Ails Ya spell? Got one’a those in that there book?”

“Why? You feeling sick, Wayne?” Eddie half-jokes, trying to veer away from having this conversation with Wayne again.

Wayne’s quiet as Eddie focuses intently on the book infront of him, trying, and failing, to scoop up a bite of egg onto his fork without looking away.

“Ed,” his uncle starts, soft and pleading once again, “Is there really nothin’ that can help ya?”

Eddie huffs, dropping his fork onto his plate and pushing it and the journal away from him. Definitely something a younger boy would do, not the nearly 25 he is now. “Why don’t you give them a look, huh? ‘Cause I already have.”

“Ed–”

He snaps his head up to glare at the older man. “What is it Wayne? What?” Eddie snatches the journal back up off the table without looking. “I’ve looked okay? Through Mom’s and through every damn book in that attic. And there was nothing. Nothing! You think she would’ve left if there was?” He stands sharply, knocking the small faded blue table away as he does. “Would’ve left m—”

His free hand wraps around his middle, nausea and the spins taking him for a ride a the sudden movement.

“Hey, Hey, sit back down son.” Wayne stands as well, coaxing him back into his chair.

The nausea spells have become more frequent, the dizziness even more so, as the months have worn on, so Wayne ties up Eddie’s hair (growing thinner by the day), walks the short few steps to the pitcher of water he’d pulled from the well that morning, and pours some into a bowl, grabbing a clean(-ish) rag on his way back.

Wayne smoothes the cool damp rag over Eddie’s face and neck, slowly and deliberately until the nauseous feeling passes.

“‘M sorry, Uncle Wayne, I know you’re just worried.”

“It’s alrigh’ boy, I shouldn’t’a pushed.”

“I’m still doing better than most,” Eddie says, voice tilting up at the end, “I think it’s ‘cause of the magic.”

“Thoughtcha said there wasn’t no cure in that book.” Wayne states, moving to empty the bowl.

“There’s not,” Eddie closes his eyes, relaxes back into his chair. “Doc thinks Ms. Wilson had the same as me and Ma, and you saw how quick it took her.”

“Mrs. Wilson was nearly 70, Ed.”

“Then how about that boy Carver? He was my age, and Doc gave him six when he came down with it too, was gone in two.”

Wayne shrugs, “The devil wanted him back sooner.”

Eddie barks out a laugh, lifting his head to catch a glimpse of his Uncle’s ‘desperately-trying-to-hide-his-smile’ smile.

Wayne jokes, but Eddie’s been contemplating this for a while now. When he had hit his second month, he was about the same as he was, steadily growing weaker, as what was expected, but nothing like how Ms. Wilson and Jason had looked in theirs.

Hell, Jason had worked on the docks with Eddie since they were boys; both fit and lean, healthy young men with the musculature to show for their work.

That was when he’d found his mom’s books, and ever since, his health had slowed to a crawl.

“I think using mom’s magic is helping me.”

Wayne is quiet, cleaning their plates from the table and dumbing the leftover eggs out the window to the pigs.

“I think it’s your magic now, Eds.”

—---

And so it went.

Eddie’s given six months turned into a year, his magic growing from healing fingerbones, to mending their ox’s broken femur with ease.

His year didn’t come without worsening symptoms though, and his previously well filled out overalls hung loose around him, his calves barely filling out the tops of his boots tied all the way tight.

Wayne always kept the faith, so to speak, not a religious man by nature, but Eddie could hear him sometimes in the early morning and late night praying to “Whoever’s got their ears on up there,” to keep Eddie safe, to keep him in their sights when the time came.

Eddie had been doing work of his own, too. Writing down anything new he found out while sitting with the Earth, listening, watching….

Mother told him through the whispers of the trees, the soft humming of the grass, that he’d know when it was time.

And that time was within the next few days.

He felt it in his bones, he felt it in the air when Wayne passed him his birthday gift (a flaky scone with the biggest chunks of chocolate in town, an amazing treat he got once a year) on the morning of his 25th year, he felt it in the very ground he walked on…

He was ready, though he did harbor one regret. One thing he knew he missed out on.

He’d never fallen in love.

Over his last year, Eddie would sit with Mother; amongst the trees, lain back in the field of grass on the hill behind their house, and tell her about them.

The ‘they’ that he’d likely never meet, the they that would love him for nothing but his love in return.

Nothing was ever specific, only the vaguest feelings he’d get about them, about the way they’d love, the humor they’d possess, the love for Eddie’s stories they’d have.

And every time he’d speak of them, Eddie’d leave with something that he didn’t realize he had picked up until he was nearly back home.

A chain of daisies Wayne had plucked from atop his head when he sat down for dinner, a scrap of dark blue fabric he’d found walking through town, a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils, the tiny sun bleached skull of a bat.

And he’d write. Over and over, never quite getting it right, but there was something he knew he needed to get out of his very being before he left for good. Something that felt like a promise.

–

The morning came, and Eddie awoke to a silent house.

Wayne out on the fields already, most likely out helping the folks on either side of them with whatever they needed doing, with only the hens’ clucks and pigs’ snorts keeping him company with the calls from the birds in the trees.

Eddie got up, slow as slow could be, got himself into his clothes, shuffled down the hall to the kitchen to their small blue table, tore out a blank page of his mother’s notebook and wrote.

Pouring all of what remained within him, Eddie thought of the Earth, of his mom, of Uncle Wayne, and them. His unknown love.

-x-X-x-

Steve Harrington’s mother was not a witch.

But for the last few years, he’s had a suspicion that his Grandmother is.

Everyone says that their food tastes so good because “It’s made with love!”, but with Mama Harrington, it was real. The love and intent she imbued into her meals was there. And she could cure any ailment.

She would always go on and on about the importance of food, each recipe’s ingredients’ healing powers, and of the recipes and their stories that had been passed down through the years from her mother, and her mother’s mother, all the way to now, where they ended up in a cookbook that’d gone untouched since it was given to Steve’s mother in the late 60’s.

“A gift! Unused for so many years, Steven!”

“I know, Mama,” he nods again, dropping some green something into the pot of sauce bubbling on the stove. “Almost 25 years.”

“Aye! You have catching up to do.” she says, shaking a thick wooden spoon at him.

“Me?” he scoffs, “I don’t know the first thing about cooking, Mama!” Baking? He’d hold his own. Cooking? If his grandmother wasn’t there to help him of on the phone to guide him through a recipe? Kitchen would go up in flames.

“Bah! Watch closely, dear.” she says, shuffling to the pot that stands nearly as tall as her where it’s perched on the stovetop. “It is always your intent behind what you are cooking. You can make anything be anything as long as the intent is there.”

“Even eggs?”

She nods, her nearly fully white bun flopping back and forth on top of her head. “Even just eggs.”

“So if I want a carbonara to help get my friend a passing grade?” he asks, incredulous, but immediately thinking of Robin, who’s coming up on her finals in a couple months (for her doctorate! A PhD! Can you believe that!).

“The intent! Put it into the eggs, into the pasta, I don’t care! But make it for That!”

She throws a concerningly large handful of pepper into the pot on the stove, and gives it a stir.

“Now, this is my Mama’s recipe, and it will help your Pa’s back.”

“How so?”

“Because I told it to,” she growls, glaring at the pot and raising her spoon as if she was going to smack some sense into it.

“Alright, Mama,” Steve chuckles, “What do you need me to do?”

He spends the next hour helping his grandma roll out some of her premade dough for some fettuccine looking noodles, grabbing a wrapped up blob “from the top shelf, Steven. That’s the stuff I made for you.”.

He rolls, folds, and cuts it as he’s told, then goes to pick Robin up from campus while she finishes everything.

“It won’t take long now, dear, and you shouldn’t either.” Mama scolds, waving her spoon around once again.

“Got it, Mama, be back soon.” He slips on his shoes, looks in on his grandpa in the living room as he passes, grinning at the loud snores he hears from the direction of Pa’s recliner, and slips out the front door to his car.

In no time, he’s picked up Robin, stopped for a movie from Blockbuster, and is home to the smell of fresh bread.

“We’re home Mama!”

“I’m just setting the table, grab your Pa!”

“Come on Pa, Mama’s got some pasta for you.” Steve says, coaxing his grandfather out of the chair and into his slippers.

“Ah, perfect, my back’s been real achy lately.”

“That’s ‘cause you sleep in the recliner, Mr. Harrington.”

“How many times do we gotta tell you, Robin? Just call us Ma and Pa.”

Robin plops down in her designated spot across from Ma, “Hey, you should get used to it now; Once I finally get up the nerve to Chrissy out, she’ll come over here all “Mr. Harrington” this and “Mrs. Harrington” that.

“And how’s that coming, Bobs?” Steve asks her, sitting down beside his grandma and immediately passing the plate of bread across the table to Robin’s waiting hands.

She starts going off at a million miles a minute about her longest standing crush, while Steve shares a look with his grandma, both smirking conspiratorially as Robin takes a bite of the bread.

That’d been Steve’s suggestion, a bread imbued with luck.

It wasn’t a “Love Spell”, Mama said there was none in existence that were worth the pain. But the minimal luck that she had sown before into countless baked goods (especially near February), have had a surprisingly great track record.

With everyone but Steve.

She couldn’t quite figure out what it was that kept him from getting the benefits too, every time she had tried, they had tried, it was an astounding failure.

First with Tommy Hagan, the carrot cake cookies Steve had presented him with as a special birthday treat back in middle school ended with two missing front teeth and a broken arm.

Then again without even thinking about it, he’d added some luck and hope to homemade chicken pot pies he’d whipped up when he and Nancy were on the rocks.

It had somewhat worked with Billy Hargrove, but that one hadn’t even been intentional, and he shudders to think about it to this day.

“I don’t know my dearest, maybe it is because you are already tied to someone else?” She had said after her tried and true pot pie recipe failed.

“But it didn’t even work with the one I was already with!” he yelled, sighing deep and pinching the tears away from the bridge of his nose. “She jumped right into Byers’ arms.”

Mama had just given him a pitying look, which was worse, honestly.

Now, he stays far away from any of Mama’s lucky foods, especially with the weird twisting feeling he had gotten the few times he’d tried over the years after leaving Hawkins.

He and Robin came up to Indy for Robin to go to U of I, a year after she graduated, and when Steve was fired from the job that had been paying the majority of their apartment's rent when he was spotted kissing his then boyfriend by his manager….they came to live with Steve’s grandparents, taking to them both with open arms and hearts.

He comes back to the present when his third bite of pasta clears away the last of his headache.

Steve shoots his grandma a knowing look, which she ignores with a sip of wine.

–

They’re nearly finished with dinner when it happens.

Steve’s listening intently to a story Pa is telling them, something he’s sure he’s hears a dozen times before, when he absentmidedly picks up, then takes a bite of the bread Ma made for Robin.

It’s more than he’s ever felt before.

In the past, whenever Steve’s tried to gain some luck in love, he’s been inundated with flashes, feelings, words, a warmth in his bones that he’s wanted to hold onto forever.

The feelings grew stronger the older he got, and now, Steve finds himself sitting on a rolling grassy hill.

It’s not a flash of a vision like before, he’s sitting in the tall soft grass, and his hands are already making a chain of daisies. Nearly done, in fact.

He finishes it off, turns it around in his hands, then when he goes to put it on…

He’s back at the table with his family, the slice of bread in his hand, and Pa still telling his story.

Steve jumps up, startling the other three, and beelines it to the kitchen, flinging open drawers, searching for just a damn scrap of paper.

Mama follows him, “Steve, the bread?”

“I was on a hill, chaining daisies, and now I have to get these words out.” He probably doesn't make a lick of sense, but he doesn’t want to lose them.

Suddenly, a pad of paper and pen are passed into his line of sight. He snatches them up, and starts scribbling down as much as he can.

He and Mama stare down at the words on the page.

“Mama, what is this?”

She is silent for a handful of breaths.

“This is why the luck never worked.”

now with a part 2!

also: i don’t know the first thing about being a witch or anything of the sort, nor do i know anything but the basics about cooking; hope im not way way off on anything!!! this is all in fun 😅

#eddie is living in a non-specified olden times #and steve is post-canon about to turn 25 so it's 1992 for him and robin #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #witch!eddie #witch!steve #work song #hozier #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #st #wayne munson #robin buckley #noelle writes #it is nearly 11 pm and this looks good but i will probably find problems with it in the morning #if you see typos no you don't

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

They cling to each other for a long time. Gradually, Eddie’s breathing stops catching with sobs, and he becomes aware of other impressions: the water dampening his jeans as he sits on the tiles, the muffled chaos on the other side of the bathroom door—people calling desperately for loved ones, hospital staff shouting orders.

And as Eddie calms, he feels when the hug shifts, when Dustin starts to shake, and it turns more into Eddie holding him than the other way around.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths, only stuttering slightly. Swallows and tries to gather himself. “What happened to your face, man, you okay?”

Dustin nods over his shoulder. “One of the windows blew at Ste—at the house when the… when the gates...”

“Shit.” Eddie pulls back a little, and he can see the evidence of it now, little pieces of glass littering Dustin’s hair. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They’re fine, they stayed there. It was just one window, the house barely got hit compared to…” Dustin trails off with a shrug that Eddie takes to mean compared to the whole town. “There was an old bike in the garage, so…”

“You biked here? By yourself?” Eddie had half been hoping that he’d somehow hailed a cab or something equally miraculous, can’t fathom just how dangerous it currently is to travel alone, so exposed, if the whole town is anything like the trailer park—

The ground splitting, blood red light, Steve’s blank eyes—

Eddie shakes his head. “Jesus, Henderson. You’re damn lucky you didn’t break something.” Or worse.

“I don’t care.” Dustin lets go and fixes Eddie with a fierce stare, eyes wet. “I—Eddie.” His voice breaks. “I said I hated him.”

They’re both avoiding using Steve’s name, like saying it out loud will mean they have to face the terrible reality of it.

Eddie pushes down another wave of grief. Dustin needs to hear this. “That’s—Dustin. He knew that wasn’t true.”

“Yeah.” A harsh laugh of self-loathing, and Eddie’s heart breaks at the sound. “But I still said it. That—that says—”

“That doesn’t say anything about you,” Eddie says fiercely. “You hear me? Not a fucking thing. You…” He pulls Dustin into another hug, feels the tremors of him crying. Squeezes tight. “You were just scared. No crime in that, all right?”

“Sorry, Eddie, I—I’m just. I’m really fucking scared.”

He has no idea if Dustin is really listening, wonders distantly if this is how Wayne has felt over the years, when faced with him. He just holds onto Dustin, hopes that it’s enough, hopes that it says all that he means. Christ, kid, can’t you see how much he loved you? He’d have done anything for you.

Eddie strokes a hand through Dustin’s hair, carefully removing pieces of glass. Oh, he’d have done anything for you.

And he did.

It’s only when they pull themselves up off the floor that he notices Dustin’s limp.

“You did break something.”

“I don’t think so.” Dustin stands on the foot experimentally, then winces with a quickly stifled cry.

“Hey, don’t! Here, just…”

He gives Dustin his arm to lean on, and they walk in silence. Eddie finds that he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what balance to strike. His usual joking would just ring false, but what he actually wants to do, which is keep double checking that Dustin is okay, feels too close to… to something that Steve would do.

He doesn’t want to be a reminder of all that they’ve lost.

They find Robin waiting for them outside the restrooms. Her face is pale, blotchy, and when she runs to Dustin, wraps her arms around him, Eddie remembers—

Robin’s arms tight around his chest, holding him back. He had caught the ambulance driver glancing at his watch, realised it was to check for the time of death, and now he's making a mournful keening noise he didn’t know he was capable of.

Denial flooding him, painful, overwhelming. He can’t accept it, suddenly, even though another part of him repeats ‘he’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone’ like a lament; wants to scream, “You don't understand, he can’t be—he was just talking to me—”

“Why are you just—someone fucking help him!” He's reaching for Steve, but Robin's grip is strong; he just brushes Steve’s fingers, and they’re cold, why are they—

“Eddie,” Robin is whispering brokenly. “Eddie, stop, it's—it's not him anymore.”

Eddie breathes, presses his back against the wall as Robin takes Dustin’s weight with a concerned expression.

“He needs someone to take a look at that,” Eddie says, nodding at Dustin’s leg. His voice sounds normal, if a little flat. Oh. He’s numb, he thinks.

When Robin replies, she sounds similar, looks grateful at being given a task, something to do. “They're taking minor wounds on the floor below.” She gives ‘minor wounds’ a skeptical air quote with one hand.

They start heading towards the elevator, and then Eddie sees it out of the corner of his eye. Denim jacket, a flash of plaid.

He makes sure Robin is still holding Dustin before he starts to run. People jostle against him, unseeing, slamming into his shoulders, and he keeps fighting against the tide, because—

“Wayne!” he calls desperately, feeling suddenly very young.

Up ahead, someone turns. And then there is a familiar warmth around him, ushering him to the side, away from people.

“Eddie,” his uncle says, and he looks exhausted and shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

The sight of him triggers a rush of emotion all over again, and the only thing Eddie can say is a choked, “I didn't kill her.”

Wayne’s eyes soften. “C'mon, son. You know me better than that.”

Eddie’s breath hitches again. Wayne holds him, holds him like he did when he was a child and had bad dreams, a hand cupping his head like there, now. We’ll make this right.

And then Wayne pulls back, eyes flickering over Eddie. “Christ, Eddie. You hurt?”

There’s a split second of confusion; Eddie glances down at himself, sees the blood and vomit on his shirt. Sways a little, and Wayne grabs onto him in alarm.

“No, it's not—I'm fine, Wayne. Promise.” He breathes through a lump in his throat and gets out, “A friend died,” which feels so inadequate for the enormity of what had happened.

Wayne stares at him for a long moment. Then he says, very gently, “This is something big, ain't it?” He gestures to the thronging corridor, to the windows. “What you got mixed up in?”

Eddie almost laughs at that. From Wayne’s phrasing, it sounds like he just got mixed up in the wrong crowd at school, when really, just a few days ago, lost in despair, he'd somehow found the strangest, best people in the world.

And now, he's lost one of them.

“Fuck, Wayne, there's—there's so much I want to tell you,” he says. “But I—I don't know if I can. Not yet.”

It hurts to say; Wayne’s always upheld the fact that Eddie can tell him anything and everything. He can see that Wayne is about to reply as much, but then he must spot something on Eddie's face, sense the fear.

“All right, Eddie,” he says calmly. “Not yet.” Then his eyes widen a fraction, and he moves forward, as if to shield him. “Aren't the cops still looking for you?”

“I...” Eddie shakes his head. He recalls having a very distant thought that he might get arrested as they arrived at the hospital, but it had gone as quickly as it came; because he’d seen Steve—seen the body get covered with a sheet, and Nancy's hand had gripped around Eddie’s wrist like she needed an anchor, nails piercing his skin.

“Not sure,” he finishes honestly. “I—I don't think so. I don't know why.”

Wayne studies him, then sighs. “All right,” he repeats. He doesn't sound happy about it, but he can read Eddie, read that there's somehow even bigger things to worry about. “You got people here?”

“Yeah.” Eddie blinks away the image of Steve's glassy stare, thinks of Dustin—Dustin, who still needs him. “Yeah, I...”

Wayne nods. “Go. Some folks got banged up at the plant, one of the nurses said they need volunteers.” He lets go of Eddie with reluctance. “Stay in the building, all right? I'll come find you.”

Eddie nods. It’s one of the hardest things in the world, to walk away from Wayne. He didn’t think he’d ever have this back. “I love you.”

Wayne tsks, brings Eddie in for a brief, fierce embrace. “I love you, too.”

It’s not Dustin that Eddie finds first as he retraces his steps, but Nancy, taking a call. He sees her lips move: “Mike.” Something changes. She goes very still, her grip on the phone tightening. Then, whatever she’s saying is delivered rapidly; she slams the phone down and runs right into Eddie.

“Woah, where's the fire, Wheeler?” Eddie says. His heart is already in his throat at the sight of her; she’s white as a sheet. What fucking now?

She breathes in and out, then grabs his hand. “Come on.”

They run together. Nancy doesn't provide any explanation as they hurtle up the staircase, as she leads him to a very quiet corridor in the ICU.

“Just...” She takes a breath, collects herself. “Wait here. I'll be right back.”

And she storms through another set of doors. Eddie stands there, frozen. It’s the longest fifteen minutes of his life. When she comes back, she’s much slower, and she sits down opposite him, puts her head between her knees.

“What's...? Shit, Wheeler, you're scaring me.”

She looks up. Surprisingly, her eyes are dry. “I'm about to tell you something,” she says, “and... Eddie, I'd only tell you if I was sure.”

Eddie blinks. “Shoot.”

“Okay. They—Steve. He was being taken away. To the...” Nancy's eyes dart to a sign, and Eddie fights back nausea. To the morgue. “But then they... They've found a pulse.”

The words take a while to truly hit Eddie, as if they come from a long tunnel. When they do, he feels his legs buckle, and he slides down to the floor. He's glad Dustin isn’t here; hope, false hope, is cruel.

“Nancy,” he says, through gritted teeth. "That—that’s not possible. I—I felt him—” He can’t even say it. I felt him die.

Nancy leans forward, puts her hand on one of his knees and squeezes. “I know,” she says simply. Then she stands. “Come with me.”

But Eddie doesn't want to move. He wonders if it's all been too much, if this is a trick, if Nancy’s had enough and is finally turning him in. But then he remembers how she had held onto him as they celebrated the communication with Dustin in The Upside Down. And he sees her eyes now, sharp and earnest.

So he lets her guide him onwards.

He comes to a halt outside a room. Feels a weight in the pit of his stomach, like he’s at a turning point; that maybe this is all in his head, and he'll go right back to his bedroom, and Steve will—Steve will—

Nancy’s hand slips into his. She raises her eyebrows, and it’s not quite a smile she gives him, but the expression seems to say, Together?

As one, they walk inside.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie whispers.

In a bed lies a body that looks remarkably like Steve Harrington. There’s a cast on one of his legs, but what draws Eddie’s attention is his face, the waxy pallor of it, the mask fitted tightly around his mouth. That awful stare has gone; someone has closed his eyes. Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s holding his breath until he sees the slightest movement of Steve’s chest, the weakest rise and fall... but it's there.

Eddie turns away and retches. Nothing comes up. Nancy rubs at his back.

“I spoke to some... there’s doctors who—they know about. Everything. They told me that they're not really worried about his leg, it just seems like a normal break,” she says. Her voice wavers slightly, like she's fighting tears. “The... the bites on his stomach stopped bleeding, but... it's his lungs, they think.” She nods at the mask. “They're giving him the same stuff they gave Will, after he was in The Upside Down. They say it's the best chance he's got.”

Eddie thinks about Steve throwing up. His gasping breaths. Panicking. Fuck, he can’t breathe. Then—

“He was coughing,” he says. The memory feels hazy, as if it happened years ago. “When we were… on the bikes, to my trailer. I could hear him.”

He feels shaky again. Nancy draws up two chairs, close to Steve’s bed, and they sit.

He is aware, suddenly, of a slow but steady beeping. A heart monitor.

It doesn’t feel real. Eddie pinches the skin on the back of his hand hard, half expects to see a clock instead of…

“Fucking hell, Wheeler,” he sighs. “What are we gonna do?”

“Make sure he’s not alone,” Nancy says.

They keep a silent vigil. At some point, Nancy rises, flits out of the room. Eddie hears hushed conversation just outside, and then Dustin and Robin come in, Dustin hobbling on crutches. Robin makes a wounded noise, reaches forward and holds Steve’s hand so gently.

Eddie doesn’t dare touch him. Something in the back of his mind whispers that he might break the spell, that Steve might crumble away into nothing if he so much as—

“It doesn’t look like him,” Dustin says. He sounds torn between anger and despair. “He looks… gone.”

Eddie sucks in a breath. “I know.” Because Dustin has voiced his precise fear: that this is all that remains. A different death, but a death all the same.

It happens much later, when Dustin has been shepherded back to Steve’s house by Nancy and Robin. “We’ll check on the kids,” Nancy had said, “and then we’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Eddie told her, noting the sunken, fatigued look to all of them.

They’ve been gone for just over an hour when Eddie, fighting sleep, realises that he hasn’t told Wayne about the state of the trailer. He almost wants to search for him, but he doesn’t dare leave the room, even if he can only really look at the hospital sheets, his eyes darting away from Steve’s face. Dustin’s right; he looks gone.

He hears it half in a dream, eyes closing despite himself. A radio, faintly, from another room, a cleaner leaving the door ajar.

Leaving nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town. Nothing but the dead and dying back in my little town.

He jolts awake sharply, as if his body is already aware of something before his mind has understood. Still blinking away sleep, this time he does not look away when his eyes land on…

It’s barely there. But Eddie sees it: the faintest of creases on Steve’s forehead.

Eddie stares. Then it clicks.

“Holy shit,” he says, hushed, afraid that if he speaks too loudly, it will all stop. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry—he ends up doing a mixture of both. “Harrington, is this your fucking song?”

The sound of the radio fades away, and with it so does the tiniest of frowns. Desperately, Eddie picks up the chorus himself, stumbling over the words in his haste; and this time, he sees it happen, the change from an unnatural laxness to…

A little pinch in between Steve’s brows, subtle, but there.

“Fuck, it’s really you,” Eddie says. “You’re still in there.” His eyes burn with tears. He reaches for Steve’s hand, holds on despite the lingering coldness to his skin. “Christ, please keep fighting, man. Please.”

#the self sacrificial steve agenda #steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #nancy wheeler #dustin henderson #robin buckley #wayne munson

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yourfavouriterival · 2 years

Text

eddie munson : guitar pick

note : i wanna die. i don't know what to do with myself as of today.

pairing : eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings : ¡¡¡ MAJOR season 4 volume 2 spoilers !!! angst (grief, crying, death), slight fluff, some people are assholes

word count : 1566

summary : the aftermath of volume 2

“Mister Munson?”

There. She’d only met him a couple times, lounging at Eddie’s trailer with some shitty, one dollar drink and an amazing horror movie playing. He’d say ‘hello’ and she’d reply something kind, and then Eddie would laugh at her shyness in front of his uncle, who’d grin and go to his room.

Standing, head bowed down, in front of a vandalised photo of Eddie Munson, stood Wayne Munson. His hand hovered over the pin holding the paper sheet to the corkboard of similar announcements of missing people, all of which would be prioritised over finding Eddie Munson.

He didn’t say anything. No reply, just robotic movements of grabbing the pin and yanking off the ruined paper, replacing it with a new one.

Her heart twinged—no, twinged wasn’t the word for it. There wasn’t a word painful enough for how her body locked up, squeezing out any air from her lungs and burning through her composure which she prayed she’d keep through the day.

“Y/N,” he replied, turning his head to look at her. His eyes went straight to the shirt she was wearing—Eddie’s—and his face contorted into something painful.

A white shirt with a black print reading: ‘Corroded Coffin’. Eddie had been designing it, grinning when Y/N had asked what he was doing:

“I’m making merchandise. We’ll be big, you know? And everyone will be wearing this,” he said, grabbing her hand which was reaching for the shirt. “It’s wet, dumbass.”

“Do I get one?” she asked, laughing when he pulled her onto his lap and pressing quick kisses to her hairline.

“Duh. You get this one, lucky charm. Hopefully, you’ll wear only the shirt,” he paused, sucking a mark onto her jaw, “and nothing else.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“What, you don’t like it?” His face twisted comically.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Eds,” she laughed, head burrowing into his neck and pressing soft kisses to his shoulder. “I’m honoured. You know I’m your biggest fan. I’ll be there for every show.”

“Yeah, yeah, you charmer,” he laughed, one hand grasping at her hips and the other cupping her jaw and leading her lips to his.

They’d gotten distracted and he never finished the shirt. He never would.

“They’re not going to be looking for him.”

She didn’t want reassurance. He knew already that this stupid town decided who deserved to live and who didn’t with no regard. She just said, “no, they’re not.”

He walked to one of the empty beds close to the corkboard, slumping down. Y/N couldn’t move her feet, staring at the picture of Eddie. He was staring at the camera, and her mind could remember the colour of his eyes and the feeling of his lips.

“You got any idea of where he is?” he asked, glancing up at his nephew’s girlfriend.

She lowered her eyes, shaking her head.

“I’ll still put up as many damn posters as it takes until he’s found because my boy is innocent.”

Her hand reached into her pocket, wrapping around the guitar pick as she tried to fight off the tingle in her nose indicating the sobs in her chest.

“I’ll see you around.” He stood, walking away.

“I was with him,” she faltered, but it didn’t matter. Eddie’s uncle had already turned, eyes searching hers. “When the, uh, earthquake hit.” His figure was getting blurrier, and her throat started tightening around the words she was attempting to force out.

“So,” he paused, “you do know where he is now?”

She couldn’t physically push the words out. Her eyes closed as she took her hand out of her pocket, holding the guitar pick—Eddie’s guitar pick—out to his uncle.

His gaze went from hers to the guitar pick.

“I’m…” she faltered. “I’m so sorry,” she sputtered out, hand quivering around the chains which Wayne Munson took. How could she tell him that Eddie was—

Words failed her, and she could only watch as Eddie’s uncle fell apart in front of her, collapsing back onto the makeshift bed.

And when the usually stoic man started sobbing, Y/N couldn’t keep her silent cry, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she repeated, a muffled apology, sitting down next to him. Her eyes fluttered, drops falling from her eyes. “He was good. He was so good. And no one bothered to try to find that out, and I don’t know why.”

Crying used to feel good, like a relief from the world. But Eddie used to be there, holding her or talking to her, and now he wasn’t and she couldn’t collect herself in front of his uncle, and he was still facing away, clutching the guitar pick to his chest and nodding.

“I wish more people had tried to find that out, because I think they would have loved him as much as I do. I love Eddie, Mister Munson, so much, and he was the best person I had the privilege to know. Even when this town didn’t deserve it, he fought for it. He never got mad. He never shouted at anyone, he just took it and I know it hurt him but he kept being himself. He could’ve run—survived. But he fought and he…” she swallowed, a nausea settling over her at her next words. “He died for this place and that isn’t fair.”

“Eddie! Dustin!” she yelled, having just fallen out of the doorway. “Eddie? Dustin? Where are you?”

Her voice was hoarse now, but she ran out either way to find—

Dustin was holding Eddie, and something was wrong. Something was bad, worse than anything someone could dream up. Through all the shit with Vecna, with the bats, with the deaths, Y/N had never felt this kind of dread until this moment.

“I think it’s my year, Henderson,” he struggled with the words that she heard as she ran forwards, “I think it’s finally my year.”

“Eddie!” she fussed, falling onto her knees opposite of Dustin. She didn’t care about the dead bats around them or the way loose rocks dug into her skin, she could only see him. “Eddie, hey. Hey, you’re okay, right? You’re okay.”

“I’m okay, lucky charm,” he smiled, but it didn’t last long fading to be replaced with the tears filling his eyes.

But he wasn’t okay. There was blood around his mouth and on his body, and she could see that he was struggling to even breathe. He wouldn’t survive the trip out of the Upside Down, and she had the sinking feeling that the hospitals would turn them away.

“D—don’t worry,” he blinked. “Worry ‘bout Henderson here.” Dustin grabbed his hand, saying something about how Eddie was okay, but Eddie just smiled and said, “I love you, man.”

Dustin, the poor boy who was too young to lose someone this important, whimpered back, “I love you too.”

“Y/N, I—I—” he struggled, but Y/N just leaned down and pressed a kiss to the spot where his forehead met the bandana wrapped around his head.

“I know,” she answered, because she knew what he meant. He never stopped saying it. “I love you, Eddie. You did so well. Just rest a bit, and I’ll fix this.” One of her hands went to his hair, smoothing it out for possibly the last time, and she wished she could hear the way he usually hummed when she did that.

She thinks he may have tried to laugh, but a cut off sound came out instead, and just as a tear fell from his eye, she knew that he was gone.

She didn’t make a sound, just fell forwards and grasped at Dustin’s hand which tightly gripped back, gasping into the tattered fabric of his shirt.

“Eddie…” Dustin begged, and he was so young and innocent that she couldn’t hold herself up anymore.

“Oh, God,” she sobbed out, wishing she could scream until her throat corroded and her heart burst. Her hand was still in his hair, but she couldn’t physically move from where she’d collapsed onto him. “Eddie,” she screeched, a panicked and pained sound lost in his shirt.

He didn’t say anything, and she took that as incentive to stand.

“I’m—I'm sorry,” she said again, wiping her eyes.

“You should keep this,” Wayne said, reaching towards her and giving her Eddie’s guitar pick. He didn’t look at her, and she wondered if he ever would again.

She took it, and her throat hurt so much that she rushed to the women’s bathroom, ready to puke her guts up or tear her heart out in one of the stalls. But she wasn’t the only one in there, so she rushed into one of the compartments, sunk down onto the lid of the toilet and held a hand to her mouth, holding it down and hoping to hold in the sounds.

“It’s that boy’s fault, you know? Eddie Munson killed all these people. Him and that cult.”

Eddie did so much, and he died with everyone thinking of him as a devil worshipper. He was so good. He was perfect, and he was flawed, but he did good. He didn’t run. He fought. He loved so fiercely. And Y/N had no clue of where to go from now.

Because, truly, did anything matter if she couldn’t share it with the only person she’d ever truly love?

#eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things angst #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4 #eddie the freak munson #angst #stranger things spoilers #stranger things #edward munson

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 year

Text

Eddie thinking he's a suave ladies' man as he tries to talk to you but realising he has no game whatsoever. You find it endearing.

Minors dni, Eddie being adorable and flustered, fluffy fic.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️

In his head, he thinks he's suave, charming and a ladies' man but in reality, he blushes and makes a doofus of himself in front of pretty girls.

Eddie has a major crush on you and he doesn't know what to do. He couldn't stop thinking about you.

He spends most of his time talking to Uncle Wayne or the guys, they are used to his chaotic energy and goofball shit.

Most girls ignore, roll their eyes at him or call him "freak"

The small few that do notice him, who have flirted back, who he's met at shitty dive bars don't stick around long.

You were talking to Chrissy, he opened his mouth to say hello but his voice came out all squeaky and made him curse himself out in his head.

So when he saw you for the first time he acted like he was confident, cool and shit but in reality he was a mess inside.

To him, you were beautiful, sweet and an angel on earth, some mythical type of elven princess from LOTR, a goddess.

Chrissy looked at him all sympathetic and introduced you to him while he called himself several names in his head.

He missed the shy smile you sent his way, the intrigued look as he skulked off in the opposite direction hoping to forget the disaster of a first meeting.

✨💕

After that Eddie attempted to show off while he was near your vicinity. Hoped you would notice him while he was strutting around like a peacock on the Hellfire lunch table and throwing his daily insult at Jason.

It might have worked in theory if he didn't notice you actually staring over at him one time and he froze, like a deer in headlights.

Kinda like this.

Then as he jumped off the table he managed to trip over his own feet, face plant on the floor and shoot back up like nothing had happened.

He really hoped you didn't notice that.

But you did, the Hellfire boys snickered in the background until he gave them one of his death glares and they shut up immediately.

He was so pathetic at this. In his mind, he was certain he was all cool and suave but in real life he was having no luck wooing you.

Rock stars wouldn't have this problem he told himself sullenly with a pout on his face.

A pout that you thought was cute as fuck, however Eddie didn't know that yet.

❤️

After a little while Eddie was ready to give up, he tried speaking to you but got all tongue-tied and overacted to show that he wasn't sweating his ass off while you looked at him with your pretty eyes.

He was forced to realise he didn't have much game as he thought he did and was considering asking Steve for help. The chicks all loved him right?

Stupid, stupid son of a bitch he berated himself as he stomped to away from his usual spot in the woods still sulking.

With minutes to spare until he had to get to class, he grudgingly gets up.

Just one week left until he graduated this hellhole he consoles himself.

His army crawling to a D in Miss O'Donnell's class finally paid off.

Then you walked up to him as he got to the school entrance and he felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"Hi, Eddie" you murmur and you sound like you are nervous, shy too just like how he feels.

Why were you nervous? Did your friends tell you he was mean and scary or something?

"Hi, uh sweetheart" Yeah, nice going doofus he scolds himself.

"I was wondering if you had a date for prom?" he blinks, once, twice, then shakes his head.

He planned on avoiding prom like the plague, conformist bullshit he told himself. Though if he was honest he would have sucked it up and gone for you. If you wanted.

Not that you would ever ask but he would.

"Nah, not my thing sweetheart" is it his imagination or did you look disappointed? You had guys ask you for weeks but you turned them down much to the relief Eddie felt when he saw it happen.

"Oh, okay. I just thought if it was your type of thing then maybe we could have gone together but it's not so uh cool" You look up at him through your lashes and he thinks his brain short circuits.

...

You, the most beautiful girl he had ever met in his life wanted to go with him.

"Why would you want to go with me?" he asks stunned because hasn't he been making an ass of himself for weeks and weeks now? Months even.

"Because you're cute, endearing, actually to me you're super fucking hot and I struggle to know what to say around you"

Did he end up getting to class after all and he was daydreaming? No... no this was very real and he shrugged off the nerves he was feeling and grinned.

"Milady, I would love to go to prom with you" The look on your face, the joy makes his heart ping in delight.

"Great, I really like you, Eddie" You move closer to him and before he knows it he's kissing you and you're kissing him back and everything is fucking incredible.

❤️

The rest of Hellfire was stunned as you joined their table and settled on Eddie's knee while kissing his cheek.

He heard Jason's shout of shock and lazily flipped him the bird, he was too into his girl to notice.

His, you were his. He couldn't believe it.

"Dude, how??" Lucas asked him stunned, mirroring Dustin and Mike's look, he winked at his sheeples and shrugged.

"Couldn't resist the Eddie Munson game could you princess?" you giggle and press a kiss to his lips and he basks in the glow of your beaming smile and that gorgeous giggle.

Eddie felt like a rockstar, 86 was his year, just like he suspected.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine

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poppy-metal · 2 years

Note

I can’t explain it but my brainworms are brainworming. i love love love love the idea of virgin!Eddie Munson and what it would be like to take his virginity.

I can just picture being a popular girl in school and having a crush on Eddie for a while (unknowing to the fact Eddies been damn near obsessed with you for years) but not quite knowing how to seduce him. You ask to buy drugs off of him and say you want to meet at his trailer, his uncle Wayne isn’t home and he’s just trying to turn this out like a regular drug deal but you out the moves on him and he’s just so god damn confused. Asking you a million times if you’re sure.

Once you get to banging he’s, surprising, really good. He’s fucking you like it’s his last day on earth because to him he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to get another chance to do this. His bangs are sticking to his forehead sweat and his eyes are entirely blissed out as he huffs and moans and mumbles praise. He keeps repeating things like “I don’t know why you’re letting me do this” “I’m the luckiest motherfucker on earth” while you’re just clawing at his shoulders as he fucks you into his mattress. He cums with a strangled moan and buries his face in your neck and you can just hear him breathlessly chanting “thank you, thank you, thank you”

"i don't know why you're letting me do this." punched me in the gut. he is just. so thankful? that someone so pretty and soft and sweet is letting his cock slide into their cunt, letting him fuck you on his squeaky mattress. hes brainless over it.

something about his adoration and his eagerness, his utter readiness to be dirty, makes the sex already better than any you've ever had before. has your toes curling in the air as you grip his back and moan for him to go harder, "s'okay eddie, feels good- you're doing so good- god, i love your cock-"

hearing him whine and slam into you faster, knocking you up the bed with his thrusts. his balls slapping against your soaked ass. "you're unreal-" he gasps. "m'so glad you're my first. so fucking lucky- oh my god-"

and fuck if that isn't an ego boost. makes you dig your nails in harder and coo up at him to really get him going. "yeah, baby? how's the first pussy you're gonna cum in, hm? you like it?"

hes delirious when he nods, choking on words as he gives up and sloppily mouths at your neck. you twine your hands through his sweaty locks as you wind your legs tight around him, anchor his waist to you, so his thrusts are shorter pulls, more like deep ruts into your heated core. god, his cock is fat.

"mhm." he whimpers, lazily sucking your throat. you let him. he needs it, you think. as much as you need to hold onto him and wrap around him like a vine leeching his warmth into yours. he thrusts and your bodies both move together up the bed, chests bare and slick and gliding against eachothers. his necklace scrapes against your nipples, the warm metal making you sigh. you want it in your mouth. "feels so good. feels-" he stops likes hes trying to find words, then you feel him shudder and he just blurts whatevers on his mind, clearly unable to think properly. "-so warm and tight. uhnn- m'gonna cum."

you squeeze around him just to hear his breath hitch. "Inside." you wrap your legs so tightly around him he can barely pull out at all, your ankles crossing at his back, locking him in. "wanna feel that virgin cock cum inside me."

its probably the cruelest thing you could say to him then. he jerks above you, his whole body trembling at the words. his hands grip the sheets on either side of your head in a death grip, pulling the ends off the mattress, but neither of you give a shit about a made bed right now.

his balls smack wetly against your ass again, grind there and you feel them twitch against your asshole, full and soft and heavy.

"you're-" he shakes his head. "you're a wicked p-person. jesus christ- fuck. im coming. holy shit- oh, you feel so good. you feel so fucking good on my cock-"

you feel the warm spurt of his cum coating your walls as he twitches and sags against you, moaning into your neck as he rocks his hips in little desperate grinds to work the cum deeper into your cunt. hes a fast learner. already knows how to feed your little hungry hole his cum.

"mmm." you sigh, like a happy cat.

#ask #hehe #eddie spaghetti #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader

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andvys · 1 year

Text

Love will tear us apart // part thirteen

Warnings: fluff, mentions of death, angst at the end

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader // mentions of Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Note: I feel like this is kinda rushed so I apologize for that.. I hope you’ll still like it. Tumblr kept messing up the sentences, so if there's anything weird, ignore it pleaseee.

series masterlist

Eddie has never gone on a date before so to say that he was nervous, was definitely an understatement. He was pacing around his room, trying to figure out what to wear, mumbling something under his breath as he looked through his shirts.

Wayne stood in his doorway, watching his nephew in amusement, who has yet to notice his uncle.

Eddie looks at the red and black flannel, the one that you have, that one that you have worn yesterday. Just thinking of the previous night gave him butterflies. It wasn't his intention to do anything more than just kissing and cuddling but ever since you have made up and made that big step, you just couldn't keep your hands to yourselves.

Eddie looks between the flannel and a faded Metallica shirt.

“Wear the flannel.”

Eddie jumps, putting his hands on his chest, he turns around to find his uncle watching him with a small smile.

“You scared me.” he chuckles.

Wayne apologizes with a small laugh, crossing his arms over his chest, he takes in the sight of Eddie, his hair is wild, his cheeks are flushed and he looks nervous “you’re going on a date?”

“How’d you know?” Eddie asks as he listens to his uncle's suggestion and puts the flannel on.

“You’re nervous, you’re pacing around, you’re as red as your flannel,” he pauses, coughing awkwardly as he looks at his nephew’s neck “and you’ve got something on your neck, son.”

Eddie’s eyes widen and he blushes “r-right,” he laughs “yeah, I’m going on a date.” he says, unable to contain the smile on his face now as he thinks of you.

“With y/n?”

“Yeah.” Eddie says, smiling. He buttons up his flannel as he looks into the mirror, eyes meeting his uncle’s as he stares at his reflection “wait,” he mumbles, furrowing his brows. Eddie talked about you before, a lot. But he never mentioned your name to his uncle “how’d you know?”

Wayne chuckles, raising his brows in amusement “I didn't know, just guessed it and I was right,” he pauses as he looks around Eddie’s room “you used to collect those missing posters of her and kept checking the newspaper like every single day when she was gone, I knew there was more than just, worry in your eyes and you were talking about a girl the other day, I figured you finally found the courage to ask her out, took you long enough.”

Eddie looks at his uncle in surprise, he never knew that he was so, obvious. Wayne was always observant, he knew that but he is still surprised that his uncle knew of his feelings way before than he even did.

“And you’re not exactly,” he pauses, coughing as he looks away from Eddie “quiet, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in embarrassment. Both nights you had stayed with Eddie, neither one of you was able to keep your hands to yourselves. And if there’s something that Eddie found out about himself, then it’s that he’s not exactly quiet when it comes to his moans.

Eddie’s face was getting more and more red at his point. Embarrassment flooding through him, a part of him wishes that the ground would just swallow him whole. His uncle though, was very amused by him.

“Oh, I got something for you.” Wayne says as he grabs something from the pocket of his flannel. He picks out a tiny blue box and throws it towards his nephew.

Eddie catches it and looks at his uncle with a questioning look on his face before he glances down. He reads the label, Trojan “oh god.” Eddie mumbles in embarrassment.

“I’m not raising another Munson!” Wayne says as he walks back into the living room.

Shaking his head, Eddie throws the package on his nightstand. He stares at it, still blushing furiously at Wayne’s words. You and Eddie haven't used protection when you had sex, which was probably irresponsible but neither of you cared in the moment.

“Got it?”

Eddie closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose “yeah, yeah- I got it, uncle Wayne!”

You were dodging Steve’s calls all day. A part of you felt guilty for doing so but another part of you still felt incredibly hurt but everything that was said. You were finally happy and you were hoping that your best friend would feel the same for you but instead, he hurt you and left you feeling vulnerable.

Of course, there would always be a part of you that would question it all. A part of you would always be hurt and feel insecure because of everything that happened in the past.

Eddie’s words have hurt you more than once. They had left a scar in your heart. But he was trying his best and you could see that.

Eddie’s arms are wrapped around you, his chest pressed against your back, a smile lingers on his face as he watches you play pac-man.

Now, when Eddie said he was going to take you out on a date, this wasn't exactly what he meant. He was meant to take you out on a classic date. He’d get you flowers and take you out for dinner at Enzo’s and afterwards you would take a walk through the park but, you said that you wanted a fun date, not something that everyone else does.

You’d rather go to the arcade then take a walk through the park and you’d rather get ice cream than have a fancy dinner at some boring restaurant.

Eddie did bring you flowers. He even picked them himself, he knows you love daisies and sunflowers and there was a big field of flowers, near your house by the forest, so he stopped on the way there. He could have just bought a bouquet of your favorites ones but, picking them himself and making a little bundle of flowers for you, felt kind of, more personal. It took some time but seeing your eyes light up and seeing the smile on your face made it all worth it.

It wasn't Eddie’s idea to go to the arcade, it was your wish, something that made Eddie laugh cause he didn't think that you’d consider going to the arcade a date but here you were. He had other plans for later but for now, he enjoyed this.

“I always thought he hated her.”

“Does that look like he ever hated her?”

“Well, no but-”

“Looks like he had major issues to accept his feelings and acted like a douchebag to the nicest girl ever.”

Lucas and Mike turn towards Dustin who stares at the two of you. He pretended to still be mad at Eddie but he can’t lie and say that he isn't happy to see you two getting along.

“Yeah,” Lucas nods “I think they were always in love or something.”

Mike scratches the back of his neck “I always thought she’s into Steve.”

Dustin rolls his eyes “clearly you can’t read the obvious,” he mumbles “Steve is her best friend, that’s all he ever was to her but this,” he points to you and Eddie “this is love, I mean did you see the way he calmed her down the other day?”

The other boys nod in agreement.

“Yeah and you should've seen the way he ran after her in school when she was mad at him.” Lucas chuckles.

“Man, I kind of feel bad for Steve.” Mike mumbles.

Dustin and Lucas furrow their brows and turn away from you and Eddie, staring at Mike with a confused look on their faces “you, feel bad for Steve?”

“Yeah, since when do you feel bad for Steve?”

“I mean,” Mike stops for a moment, gathering his thoughts “her and Steve are always there for us and he’s obviously in love with her, I mean do you see the way he looks at her?” he asks “a-and now, I don't know, don't get me wrong, Eddie is amazing but that's like, watching Mom cheat on Dad!”

Dustin and Lucas can’t even help but start laughing at Mike’s words.

“Mom and Dad?” Lucas snorts “does that mean that Eddie is our step dad now?”

“Shut up,” Mike mumbles with an eye roll before he turns his attention back on the two of you.

You turn around and wrap your arms around Eddie’s waist, staring at him with a bright smile on your face. Eddie tugs your hair behind your ears before leaning down to kiss you.

“Aww, they are so cute.” Lucas giggles as he watches you two with a grin on his face.

“You sound like a girl.” Dustin laughs at his friend, Mike joins in on the laughter.

The smile on his face falls and he turns towards his friends “oh you are so funny.”

“We know.” Dustin shrugs.

“Hey, what do you think she likes about Eddie so much?” Mike asks suddenly.

“It’s probably the big brown eyes,” Lucas says “he always looks at her like some sad puppy, who won't fall for his eyes.”

Mike and Dustin start laughing again, earning another eye roll from their friend.

“Wait, you’re right, about the big brown eyes. The eyes are a trap, man,” Dustin says, turning towards Lucas “remember when Will was sad one time so she bought him a bunch of new DnD books?”

“Oh right!” Lucas exclaims, a little too loudly.

“Shut up!” Mike yells at him in a hushed whisper.

“Hey, where are they?” Dustin mumbles as he turns towards you to find you gone.

“Don’t know, don't care,” Lucas shrugs “we shouldn't spy on them anyways.”

“So you were spying on us you little shitheads.”

All three of them yelp in surprise and turn around to find Eddie staring at them with raised eyebrows. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder. Your hand is resting on his waist. You watch them in amusement.

“No! We weren't spying!” Lucas says, raising his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah! We weren't spying on you at all!” Mike adds, exaggerating his words which earns him an eye roll from Lucas.

Dustin crosses his arms over his chest, looking between you and Eddie.

The looks on Mike’s and Lucas’s faces is almost enough for Eddie to start laughing, they look panicked, eyes darting back in forth between you and him. He turns towards Dustin who looks at him with a slight glare. The boy is still mad at him and, Eddie get’s why but it still makes him sad.

“You’re bad liars and you know it.” you chuckle.

Lucas sighs “yeah, yeah.” he mumbles, shoulders slumping, he looks at you with a guilty look on his face. He did say that it was a bad idea to spy on the two of you but, they were a little curious and after what happened on the road two nights ago, they felt worried for you and wanted to be there in case something happened.

“Look,” Dustin starts “we just, we’re looking out for you.”

Your eyes soften at his words, you know that they like you and that they care about you but you never knew that they cared this much.

“I’m here, though.” Eddie says, pulling you closer to him. He would never let anything happen to you.

“Exactly.” Dustin mutters under his breath.

Lucas and Mike turn towards him with a surprised look on his face. It was rare for Dustin to be so grumpy, especially towards Eddie. Dustin worships Eddie, all he does is gush over how awesome he is, so this, is definitely a surprise.

Dustin almost regrets his words when he sees Eddie looking at him with a surprised and sad look in his eyes.

“Dustin.” you mumble sadly.

“No, he hurt you before, we just want to protect you, y/n.” Dustin says, looking at you.

‘Damn you Steve’, you think to yourself. You never wanted any of this to happen. You know how much the kids mean to Eddie, especially Dustin. You can basically feel the sadness radiating off of Eddie and it breaks your heart.

“I will never hurt her again.” Eddie promises, he squeezes your hand and glances at you for a moment. You give him a small smile “I promise, guys.”

Lucas and Mike smile at his words, nodding at their dungeon master.

Dustin though, he stays stubborn, he keeps his eyes trained on Eddie with a serious look on his face.

It was almost odd to see him this way, the boy who usually smiles the most, is quiet, his face set in a frown.

But even his stubbornness can’t win against Eddie’s sad puppy eyes. He uncrosses his arms, letting them fall by his sides.

“If you ever hurt her again, I’ll kick your ass.” Dustin says, making you chuckle.

Eddie snorts, face contorting into amusement.

Mike and Lucas nod in agreement “yeah, we’ll totally kick your ass, Eddie.” Lucas nods.

“Y-Yeah, totally.” Mike mumbles with a frown on his face.

You purse your lips to keep yourself from laughing. The seriousness on their faces somehow makes the situation even funnier but you have to admit, knowing how much you mean to them and how they'd defend you if anything, warms your heart.

Eddie looks between the three of them, the smile slowly falling from his face “w-wait, you’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” Dustin says.

Eddie chuckles nervously as he looks at the boys. A part of him is amused by how scared he is but, the boys mean everything to him, he wouldn't want to disappoint them by making another stupid mistake out of insecurities and hurt you again, not that he ever would again, he made a promise to himself. Eddie would never hurt you again.

Another part of him admired the way they are so protective of you. You have an older brother, who would do nothing to protect you but, you have a bunch of teens who you consider siblings and they, would do anything to protect you.

Eddie puts his hand over his heart “boys, I promise, I’d rather hurt myself than ever hurt my girl again.”

Your heart flutters in your chest and you watch him with a smile on your face.

“My girl?” Mike asks, he turns towards you “what about-”

“Anyways!” Lucas interrupts, glaring at Mike “we believe you, Eddie. Right Dustin?” he asks, turning towards him.

Both you and Eddie turn towards him, you raise your brows at him, pleading with your eyes to finally talk to Eddie and forget about what Steve said.

He sighs and then nods “yeah, we believe you.” he says, unable to be mad at Eddie any longer, he smiles at him.

Eddie almost sighs in relief, his eyes light up and a big smiles appears on his face. He steps forward, letting go of your hand for a moment “come here, Henderson.” he mumbles, tackling the younger boy in a big hug, ruffling his hair. They stumble back slightly almost running into a group of little kids.

You watch them with a fond smile on your face, you knew Dustin wouldn't be able to stay mad at him for long but the two days of him giving Eddie the cold shoulder did make both you and Eddie sad.

“Is this like, weird to you?” you ask, nervously.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, looking at you with a questioning look on his face.

You hesitate, looking away from him, your grip on his hand tightens. You are walking through town now, after leaving the arcade, you thought that Eddie would lead you back to his van but instead he grabbed your hand and lead you downtown.

Eddie begins to grow concerned, your silence makes him nervous “hey,” he whispers, tugging at your hand, he stops walking. He grabs your face gently and turns you towards him “what's wrong?” he asks, softly.

You look into his eyes and you see nothing but worry and softness in them. You nuzzle into his touch “I just, last week we were fighting and now, we’re...” Dating? Friends with benefits? You don’t even know what to say.

Eddie’s face falls a little and he suddenly feels scared, did he move too quickly?

“I-Is this, do you not want this?” he asks.

There’s no way right? He thinks to himself. You already told him that you love him, more than once. But what if, love isn't enough?

You can see the fear in his eyes and your heart drops, you didn't want to make him feel like this is wrong or too much.

You grab his hand that is resting on your cheek, eyes widening “I do! I do want this, Eddie, more than anything!”

He exhales softly, relief flooding through him. His hands leave your cheek and they settle on the small of your back instead, pulling you into him, he rests his forehead against yours “don't scare me like that, babe,” he whispers “but, to answer your question. I don't think it’s weird, we would’ve been here a long time ago if I wasn't such an idiot.”

“Eddie-”

“No, let me finish,” he says. He can tell that both his and Steve's words left you with many insecurities and he was desperate to fix this “I can’t justify my actions and I don't want to because there's no way to justify what I did, I was just stupid and insecure but, I just always misunderstood everything.” he mumbles, rolling his eyes at his own behavior “but, I always liked you, more than you think and I figured out that I had feelings for you when I thought that you were, gone.”

Your eyes soften at his words, heart fluttering in your chest. Eddie hasn't told you about his feelings for you before.

“I understand that isn't easy for you to believe me, after everything and if you want to move slow than I get it too, I’ll wait for you forever if I have to.”

He kisses your forehead softly and gives you a sweet smile.

“Eddie,” you whisper “I don't want to go slow, we've been going in slow motion for years now.” you say with a chuckle.

A laugh of relief leaves his lips and he pulls you into his chest “thank god, baby, I don't wanna go slow either.”

"Good.” you mumble into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist, you hug him tightly.

Eddie smiles, rubbing your back softly, he kisses the top of your head “hey, do you still like sundae’s?”

You pull back slightly and look at him with a surprised look in your eyes “you remember that?” you ask.

You remember your very short conversation with Eddie at Tina’s Halloween party, two years ago. You complained about the party and talked about how you’d rather spend your evening at a diner with a nice sundae.

“Of course, I remember it.” he says, smiling sadly.

If he had just asked you out then, like he wanted to, maybe things could've been different for so long already.

You could melt right then and there. You never thought that you had mattered much to Eddie. A part of you always thought that he wouldn't even notice if you were gone but he did, he noticed. And he knew even remembered the smallest things about you.

“That’s so sweet, Eddie.” you smile at him. Trying your best to keep yourself from tearing up but it was difficult not to, he was looking at you like you’re the best thing on this planet “and, yes, I still love sundae’s.”

“Good,” he smiles, leaning down he kisses your lips “cause I've been meaning to ask you out since Tina’s stupid halloween party.” he says, chuckling.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” he nods.

“Why didn't you?” you ask.

“I was about to,” he says, sadness flickers in his eyes “but Steve came and basically dragged you out of the house.”

Realization dawns on you. You remember that, Nancy and him got into a fight, she said some hurtful things to him and he stormed away after finding you.

“Oh.” you mumble, lips setting in a frown.

Eddie notices the sad expression on your face, he pulls you closer “hey,” he whispers, cradling your face in his hands “I’m gonna take you on so many dates and buy you as many sundae’s as want.” he smiles, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone “I promise.”

Eddie had no idea why he had felt so nervous before the date. It was going well, no, it was going perfect. Being around you, being with you always felt so natural. He didn't have to hide anything, he could be himself.

It felt like it was never any different, like you were always here right beside him.

Sitting next to you with his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you were sharing your sundae felt like it was the most natural thing to do.

Driving around town with you, felt like it’s something that you always did.

Holding your hand and kissing you, felt like you've never gone without it.

“What are we doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows as you look around the wooded area.

Eddie parked his van near the forest and top of the hill that allows you to see all of Hawkins.

“Hold on,” he says, smiling at you. He places his hand on your thigh as he opens the glove department. You put your hands over his, fingertips grazing his rings. His brows are drawn together as he looks through the tapes. His tongue pokes out between his lips as he reads the labels on the tapes.

You smile to yourself as you look at him.

“Ah! Got it!” he smiles, taking the tape out of the little box, he replaces it with the current one, he presses pause before the music can start playing.

You turn towards him, looking at him with a questioning look on your face.

“Wait.” he smiles, pulling your hand up to his lips, he places a kiss on the top of your hand before he lets go. He jumps out of the car and runs around the van.

You watch him with a confused smile, he opens the door and offers him your hand “milady.”

You can’t help but laugh, taking his hand, you jump out and look up at him “nerd.”

“Yeah but, I'm your nerd.” he chuckles, eyes twinkling in the darkness, he looks down at you with a happy smile on his face “come on.” he says, pulling you along with him.

If it wasn't for the headlights on his van then you wouldn't even be able to see anything but the few lights illuminating the small town at the bottom of the hill. Eddie’s warmth shields you from the slight breeze.

“What are we doing here, Eddie?” you ask as you stop in front of his car. He lets go of your hand, giving you another cute smile before he rushes back to his car to turn on the music.

He turns up the music and the moment it starts playing, you recognize the melody right away. Forever young by Alphaville. It’s the same song that played the night of the snow ball.

Eddie rushes back towards you, with an exciting but nervous smile on his face “can I have this dance?” he asks.

Your eyes widen in surprise “dance?”

He nods as he steps closer to you, taking your hand in his, he places them on his shoulders and grabs your waist gently.

“I-I don't know how to dance!”

“Me neither, baby,” he shrugs, chuckling “let’s figure it out together.”

Neither you or Eddie have gone to prom or homecoming and neither one of you have ever slow danced before.

“Okay.” you whisper nervously, a small laugh leaves your lips. You press your body against his, as you intertwine your fingers behind his neck. The music is playing loudly in the background as Eddie pulled you closer than before, letting you become one with him.

You stare at each other as you start swaying to the music, smiling at each other. You have kissed, you have hugged, you have slept in each others arms, you have slept with each other and yet, here you were, blushing at something so innocent.

”Why did you pick this song?” you ask in curiosity.

“You like it- well, liked it back then,” he explains “and I kinda started liking it too, because of you.”

Eddie kept this tape just because of this one song, he would've never liked this song if it wasn't for you. But, now he loved it. It always reminded him of you.

You raise your brows in surprise “really?”

He nods “I love the lyrics.”

“Me too,” you pause as you think back to what you said to him that night ‘I always kinda thought that, I'd die young’. Back then a part of you didn't even care, whether you lived or died but, now, you want to live, you want to be here, with him “let’s not die young, please.” you whisper.

Eddie furrows his brows, he tugs you closer to him, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The fear in your eyes was clear as day, he knows you have been through much and that you've been close to death before but now you weren't just scared for your life or your friends life, you were scared for him too because a part of you was scared that something bad was about to happen, especially after what happened two nights ago.

“That's not the plan, sweetheart,” he whispers, eyes softening.

“What’s the plan?”

“Hmm, we can like, grow old together or something.”

“Or something?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, maybe we’ll find a way to be young forever, you know? You did say you want to be young forever.” he says, chuckling at the memory.

“Well, the only way for us to be young forever is if we became vampires or something.” you say, squinting your eyes at him.

“Oh! That would be kind of metal, don't you think?”

“So metal!” you say, mimicking him “you’d be such a hot vampire though.” you say, blushing.

His eyes widen before a smirk appears on his face “yeah?” he whispers, sliding his hands down to the small of your back, he pulls you closer to steal another kiss from you “well, I’d think you’d be an even hotter vampire, with the fangs and the red eyes.” he mumbles against your lips, staring into your eyes for a moment before he closes them and slams his lips back against yours. You pull each other tighter against one another and deepen the kiss.

Your lips taste like strawberry and vanilla, the flavors from the sundae you have shared earlier. Your hands are in his hair, brushing through his curls. A sigh escapes your lips and Eddie hums against you, his hand are sliding up your body, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches you. His heart flutters in his chest, the feeling of your body against his will always leave him with an overwhelming feeling of love.

You almost gasp for air as you pull away from each other after a while. You keep your eyes closes for a moment. Eddie presses his forehead against yours, watching you with loving eyes. He presses another soft kiss to your lips.

He whispers your name softly. You open your eyes, staring back into his beautiful brown eyes. You notice how nervous he looks all of the sudden “b-be mine?”

Your lips part in surprise, he wants you to be his? His girlfriend?

Silence fills the air, the music stopped playing, Eddie stopped breathing for a moment as he looked at you nervously.

“You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” he breathes. His eyes are soft, flickering with hope as he waits for an answer. His heart is racing in his chest and he is nervous, so so nervous.

Happiness is all you feel as you stare into his eyes. You peck his lips softly “I'm yours, I have always been yours, Eddie.”

He sighs in relief, eyes filled with emotions as he smiles at you before he pulls you into a hug “my girl.” he whispers.

You giggle, he says it as though he can’t believe that this is actually real.

“My boyfriend.” you mumble into his chest.

“Say that again.” Eddie says as he pulls back a little.

“You’re my boyfriend.”

His eyes light up with so much love and happiness “you better kiss me right now before I start dancing ant trust me, this one is gonna be an embarrassing dance.”

You laugh at his words before pulling him in for a kiss.

“Wait,” he mumbles against your lips “let’s do this again.” he whispers before he runs back to the van to turn on the music again.

You laugh as he runs back to you and picks you up in his arms, twirling you around, causing you both to laugh as he stumbles back a little.

“Best first date, ever.” he smiles.

You hum in agreement as you press your lips against his. Out of all the moments you have spent with him, this might be your favorite. No matter what will happen in the future, you know, that this moment will always be remembered with a smile on your face.

Eddie insisted on sneaking into your room, despite knowing that your brother isn't home “it’s more fun.” he said before kissing you on leaving you on the porch “bet I'm gonna be faster than you.”

You chuckled at him as you watched him skip the down the steps, winking at you before he disappeared around the corner.

You reach for the keys in the pocket of your jean jacket. Unlocking your front door, you turn on the lights and step inside. You’re about to close the door when someone suddenly slams their hand against the door. Your heart jumps in your chest and you step back as your eyes widen.

“Wait!”

Steve.

Rolling your eyes, you open the door again, eyes settling on Steve, who looks at you with a pleading look in his eyes “I don't want to talk to you.” you mumble.

“Y/n, please!”

You almost feel guilty but all the hurtful words rush back to you and you don't want to think about them now, not after the amazing day that you had. You try to close the door but he stops you once again.

“I messed up! Okay? I know I messed up!” he almost shouts “please j-just, let me explain.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Opening the door again, you keep your hand on the doorknob. The look in his eyes is desperate, his usually so perfectly styled hair is a mess, dark circles rest under his eyes, he looks awful. A guilty feeling settles in your chest, it was his own fault but you still felt bad, even if he was the one that hurt you.

“Steve,” you mumble “I don't want to talk to you, not today.”

You glance behind you, knowing that Eddie is in your room already, wondering where you are.

“Please, I-I just need to explain.” he says as he steps inside.

His bloodshot eyes are the first thing you notice and then the smell of alcohol hits you. Your face contorts into a frown “are you drunk?”

“I-I, I’m so sorry, y/n.” he mumbles, completely ignoring your question “I’m an asshole, I shouldn't have said all these things, that- that was fucked up.”

“You’re right, it was fucked up.” you say as you take a step back, eying him up and down.

He runs his hand through his hair, leaning against the wall by the door to keep himself steady, he looks down for a moment before his eyes lock with yours again, his eyes fill with tears.

Steve fills incredibly guilty after what he said and it only got worse after his conversation with Eddie. Robin scolded him, he has never seen the girl so mad before. Dustin refused to talk to him and you ignored every single one of his calls. He deserved it, he really did but he was suffering. He never wanted to hurt you. He hated how much Eddie was hurting you and yet he did the same thing.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why did you?”

He sighs, pushing himself off the wall, he walks towards you “I-I was angry.”

“At me?” you ask.

“No, at the situation, at Eddie- why does he get a chance with you after the shit he did to you?” he asks with sadness in his eyes “why don’t I get a chance?”

You blink as you stare at him in surprise “what?”

“No, I heard you. I- what do you mean?”

He scoffs at your question “come on, y/n, you know exactly what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” you mumble, his words trigger something in you.

‘You know more than you think, y/n, you seem like a smart girl.’ A strange voice echoes in your mind, the words repeating themselves.

Shaking your head, you blink as you stare back at Steve.

“You and I both know that there was always something between us. You can’t tell me that it was just friendship! There was always more and you know it,” he pauses “o-or are you saying that it all meant nothing to you?”

“Steve.” you mumble “stop it, you’re drunk.”

Your heart begins to race, a nervous feelings settles in your chest. You can’t even look at him right now, the look in his eyes tells you that there’s more he's gonna say and you will have to hurt him.

“So? It’s the truth, y/n!” he exclaims, taking another step closer to you. You turn around, looking towards the staircase. You know Eddie could come down any moment and you don't want them to see each other, knowing that they'll only get into a fight.

A gasp escapes your lips when you turn around to find him standing directly in front of you. He places his hands on your shoulders, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“You are my best friend, Steve. That’s all.” you say, eyes tearing up.

Hurt flickers in his eyes, you know he wants more than just friendship and you both might be running your friendship right at this moment.

“I-I don't believe that.” he mumbles.

How can he believe that? You've been right by his side from the start of your friendship. You were there to fix his broken heart, you were there when he was almost killed by a demodog, you threw yourself into his arms after killing it, you searched for comfort in his arms, you had something much deeper than just friendship so, how can he believe that there’s nothing?

You sigh, “I-I can’t do this right now and I don't want to, so if you'll excuse me-”

You never get to finish your sentence, the moment you step away from him, he takes another step forward, hands cradling your face in his large ones, he leans down and slams his lips against yours.

You gasp against his lips, your eyes widen. You stand frozen in place, unable to move as Steve kisses you.

And, Eddie stands frozen in place too as he watches the scene unfold. His eyes are filled with anger and his hands ball into fists. He would have felt heartbroken and sad, if you kissed him back. Your arms were hanging limply by your sides and you were tense, he could see that.

You place your hands on his chest and push him away from you causing him to stumble back “what the hell, Steve?” you exclaim, anger rising in your chest.

Sadness lingered in his eyes as he realized that he messed up yet again, he is about to speak up, when he notices Eddie as he looks over your shoulder.

“You have some fucking nerve, Harrington.”

You tense up at the sound of his voice, eyes filling with fear and anxiety as you turn towards Eddie. You almost expect him to look at you in anger and disgust but there's no such thing in his eyes as he glances at you for a moment. Eddie squeezes your hand gently, showing you that he isn't mad at you.

“Of course, you have to show up and try to ruin everything again.” Eddie says, staring at the other boy with anger and hatred in his eyes “get the hell out or-”

“Or what, Munson?” he asks aggressively, stepping closer to him.

What the hell?

You look at him in surprise, you didn't expect him to react like that. Steve looked both sad and angry, his emotions took control of him and he was ready to fight Eddie.

Eddie lets out a surprised laugh “you want to fight? In front of her?” he asks, pointing to you “you wanna make shit worse? Really?”

Steve blinks, eyes flicking to you for a moment, the look on your face was enough to ground him. The anger was slowly fading away and the sadness settled back in. He disappointed you, once again. He touched you without permission, he fucked up.

He might've been able to fix things before but now? Now, it feels like he lost you for good.

He utters no more words, his eyes are filled with tears as he gives you one last glance before he pushes past Eddie and rushes out of the house. He leaves, without looking back.

taglist: : @prettyboyeddiemunson @inject-memes , @twdimagining , @littledemondani , @wroteclassicaly , @lunatictardis @tayhar811 @pagesfalling @boomhauer , @corrodedcorpsess , @ashwhowrites , @iamaslutforcoffee , @fieldofsecretss , @haylaansmi @phantomxoxo @paprikaquinn @marianita195 @bambi-munson , @harrys-tittie @eddies-lover , @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl , @arioneway , @vampirestookmydoubts , @sushiirestaurant , @killjoy36154 , @avocadotoastwithegg , @magnificantmermaid , @zucchinimalfoy , @slightlyvicked , @leahthesith , @bhavanti , @aurora-austen @bmunson86 , @mcueveryday , @lnnlove , @kissitbttr , @bibliophilewednesday , @thesnoweclipse , @beep-beep-sherlock @sav7689 , @ogoc-19 , @linkpk88 , @urmomgov @quartzneyy , @that-girl-is-a-psycho @bitchyseawitch @ninapengbrev @hellkaisersangel @aftermidnightwriting @miss-celestial-being

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff

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blushweddinggowns · 15 days

Text

Nancy furrowed her brow as she went to answer it, just as confused as everyone else, “Hello? What? I-Fred please be quiet for one second! How did you know I was here- I know the article is due but I’m in the- why call me if you aren’t going to let me talk!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “You know what? Yeah, just wait for me at school. I’ll be there in a few hours. Yes, hours! I’m hanging up now.”

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before addressing everyone, “It wasn’t important. I just have to stop at the school at some point today. But for now we should get going-”

But Wayne wasn’t having it. He turned back to the duo, pointing an accusing finger their way,“If either of you think you’re stepping out of this house you have another damn thing coming-”

“Okay!” Eddie interrupted, reaching out to grab Wayne’s arms, “It’s time to talk in private. The rest of you stay here.”

Eddie dragged Wayne into the back room, Steve following meekly behind. They could still hear them in such a small space, hushed voices arguing in Eddie’s room.

It made Chrissy feel weird, like she was intruding on a family moment. She knew she was, they all were. Dustin even went as far as to turn on the TV, effectively giving them the noise they needed to keep their conversation private.

“Oh my god,” Dustin breathed after a few seconds, “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Chrissy glanced at the screen, her stomach dropping when she saw what it was. It was her school photo. Followed with a reporter’s voiceover, “...following a cryptic voicemail, that police suspect was a forced call. Considering the untimely deaths of multiple young women in the town of Hawkins, we need a prompt and quick response in regards to finding this young lady. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Chrissy Cunningham please call your local authorities immediately.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. She should have known. Of course her mom would go straight to the police. She knew that call had been pointless. Worse than pointless. If she had never said anything then she probably wouldn’t have even realized Chrissy was gone until today.

“We can’t stay here,” Chrissy said suddenly, already feeling frantic.

“Why not?” Dustin asked, his brow furrowed, “No one else even knows you're here!”

But Robin was already moving, cursing under her breath as she got her shoes on, “Because if anyone looking for her has a single working brain cell they’ll look for me. And how do you find me?”

“You find Steve?” Dustin asked, still watching in confusion as the rest of the girls got ready to go.

“And if you’re looking for Steve,” Robin asked, “Where would you go?”

“Here,” Dustin grumbled, finally catching on.

“There you fucking go,” Robin sighed, before calling down the hall, “Steve, Eddie, we gotta go. Now!”

“Give us a damn minute!” Eddie yelled back, but Robin wasn’t having it. She marched back there, dragging a confused Chrissy with her.

The three men stared at them as Robin dug around, talking as she searched, “They reported Chrissy missing so that means cops are almost certainly on their way here. We need to go now-aha!”

She held up Eddie walkman, before waltzing over to Chrissy to put the headphones over her ears. She hummed the melody as she snatched the tape out of Eddie’s player, snapping quickly into the walkman and pressing play.

“There,” She said with a gentle smile, interlacing Chrissy’s fingers with her own, “Now you’re mobile.”

She turned back to Eddie and Steve, her voice softening at the kicked-puppy look on Steve’s face, “We’ll wait outside, but we need to think of a place to hide. Fast.”

“I already know a place,” Eddie sighed, waving them off. He threw his keys in their direction, Robin just catching them in time as he kept his eyes on Wayne, “Go to the van and hide in the back. We’ll be out in a minute.”

Chrissy nodded, and then Robin was dragging her off. She chanced one look back at them, her heart breaking a little at the devastated look on Wayne’s face. She felt so bad. Yes, whatever this was had started before her, but she was the brand new reason she was involved. Why all of these people were now risking themselves for her of all people.

“This isn’t your fault, y’know,” Robin said quietly as she unlocked the van’s door, the rest of the group talking quietly amongst themselves in front of the beemer, “I can see your brain working over there.”

Chrissy shrugged as she climbed inside, settling in the back. Robin sat beside her, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Chrissy wished Robin would think about stuff like that, how often she touched her. Or maybe Chrissy wished she could start thinking of it less.

“Maybe not everything,” She mumbled, “But it’s my fault you’re involved now. Maybe you guys could have been the bystanders for once if I never happened.”

“I doubt it,” Robin laughed softly, giving Chrissy’s hand a comforting squeeze. ``I got involved by working at an ice cream shop. Don’t underestimate the randomness of this crap. Besides…”

She trailed off, scooting closer to lay her head against Chrissy’s shoulder. Close enough for the warmth of her breath to tickle Chrissy’s neck, “Getting to know you is more than worth the trouble.”

From the latest chapter of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #buckingham fic #the universe trapped in your skin #i told you all it's not abandoned!#the chapter is officially in the ~editing~ phase #things are happening after like #8 months #my bad on that one #fic snippet #season 4 rewrite #childhood friends au

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steddieasitgoes · 7 months

Text

written for @eddiemonth Day 5, Prompt: Role Model (and Brave if you squint)

read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

“Will’s out of practice, but I think he’s excited to play again,” Mike says, sliding Eddie’s worn D&D notebook across the small hospital bed tray. “You know, when you’re up for it, of course. I mean, one of us could DM me or Will, I mean, but we’re not as good as you.”

“Who told you flattery works on me, Wheeler?” Eddie jests, grinning up at him from his hospital bed. “Yeah, yeah, of course, I’ll DM something for you sheep. It’ll give me something to do in here while those government people work their cover-up magic.”

Eddie watches as a smile takes over Mike’s entire face, eyes crinkling in the corner. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the kid so happy before. And all over a game. They really are nerds, aren’t they? Before Mike has time to give his input, something Eddie knows he is gearing up to do because he always has input, there’s a knock on the closed hospital door.

“Mike?” Nancy calls as she cracks the door open. “There you are. The boys are looking for you. Something about a vending machine?”

“Oh, shit,” Mike swears, eyes wide.

“Duty calls?”

“Yeah, we’re trying to bride the guy in charge of stocking the machine on Max’s floor to give us snacks for free,” he says, walking backward towards the door. “I’ll bring you back something if our mission is successful.”

Eddie places a request for a Milky Way and a bag of chips, which Mike mentally notes before disappearing into the hallway. Nancy’s about to head out behind him, already pulling Eddie’s door shut when he calls out to her.

“Got a minute, Wheeler Senior?”

Nancy hovers in the doorway, nose turned up. “Only if you promise never to call me that again.”

Eddie laughs, mimes crossing his heart as best he can earning a shake of Nancy’s head. Still, she steps into the room, closing the door behind her before making the short trip to his bedside.

“How are you doing?” she asks, eyes scanning him from head to sock-covered toes.

“Now that I’m finally awake, I just, uh, wanted to properly say thank you,” Eddie says, wincing as he tries to adjust his position in the bed. It’s already raised to a seated position, but he’s still not comfortable. His torso burns and the wires hooked up to him clink against the bed frame and it’s hell, but if he doesn’t adjust himself soon his foot is going to fall asleep and the only thing worse than getting nearly mauled to death by bats in a hell dimension is the feeling of pins and needles in his feet.

“Thank me?”

“Oh, don’t play coy, Wheeler. You saved my life,” Eddie says, finally settling on his side. “Henderson told me how you took over carrying me back after Harrington’s own wounds got the better of him. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course, I had to do that! I wasn’t going to let you die down there.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. I mean, I almost got us all killed.”

“You— what?” Nancy asks, eyes wide in confusion. Reaching behind her, she grabs the spare chair (the one Wayne’s been sleeping in every chance he gets) and drags it towards the bed. The legs screech against the linoleum tile, but it doesn’t seem to phase her. “You saved us, Eddie. Saved Dustin, definitely.”

“Tell that to his fractured leg.”

Nancy shakes her head and reaches for his hand that doesn’t have an IV needle shoved into it. She looks at him with a face of determination. One not unlike the face she had when she explained their plan two weeks ago in the stolen Winnebago. This is Nancy on a mission. Except, Eddie’s not sure what the mission is this time.

“Stop,” she says, squeezing his hand. “Just stop, okay? You didn’t fail us or whatever you think you did. You kept Dustin safe. You bought us more time. I would have liked it if you didn’t use your body as bait.” She glances at his exposed arms, wrapped in gauze, some already bloody again. “But you did what you had to do. We all did what we had to do. And we’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, but I—“

“No,” she scolds, glaring at him this time. “I don’t want to hear it. You don’t get to downplay what you did or think you’re some— some fuck up. Because you’re not. You are a hero. A brave hero! And I won’t let you say those things about yourself, especially not when Mike could overhear you. You’re his role model, you know?”

It hurts to laugh, but it bubbles out of him anyway. It’s not the happy kind of laughter, though. It’s of the unamused variety. The kind of laughter he’s used at aiming at Jason and the rest of the jocks in the Hawkins High cafeteria.

“Don’t bullshit me, Wheeler. M’not that kid’s role model.”

“You are, though,” she says, doubling down. “Mike never shuts up about you. He was miserable this summer when the Byers moved, and he realized he was starting school without his best friend and girlfriend. I swear he almost jumped out of my car on that first day of school. So imagine my surprise when he climbed in the car at the end of the first day with a genuine smile on his face.”

“All I did was give him a place to eat lunch.”

“No, you gave him so much more than that. Mike’s always had friends, sure, but he’s never had a role model. Not like the others do. I mean, Dustin has Steve, which is weird. but it somehow works. Will has Jonathan. Lucas has his dad. But Mike? Mike’s always sort of floundered in the role model department. I mean, you’ve seen our dad. He doesn’t exactly get Mike.”

“What? And I do?” Eddie asks, still not entirely buying Nancy’s words. Though, he should know better than to doubt Nancy Wheeler. After all, this is the girl who has guns, plural, in her bedroom.

“Yeah, you do. More than either of you realize.”

Eddie considers that for a moment. Thinks about the way Mike’s cheeks have always turned the slightest shade of pink in his presence. The way he always, always found a way to bring up Baby Byers in conversations. The memory is hazy, but he remembers watching him in those first few hours he woke up from the coma. Mike reaching for Will’s arm when Eddie’s eyes fluttered open.

And then he thinks of himself. The lingering glances he’s snuck in the hallways. The flirtatious jabs he threw Steve’s way when he was running for his life, sure he was going to die.

Once again, he’s left stunned by Nancy. Though, really, he should have seen this one coming. She is a journalist, after all. It’s her job to be observant.

“Alright, fine,” Eddie concedes. “Maybe I’m Mike’s role model. But if I’m being straight with you, Wheeler. I don’t think I’m going to be any good at the job.”

“You’re already good at the job,” she says, squeezing his hand once last time before pulling away. “Just keep it up. And you know, get better so you can play that damn game of yours.”

“You know, there’s always room for more players at the table.”

Nancy laughs as she peels herself off the chair. “You’re funny, Eddie. Unfortunately, I’ve got a real battle to get ready for. Not to offend, but I prefer to take on the monsters in real life now.”

He shakes his head, smiling fondly as Nancy makes her way to the door. “You know, if anyone should be Baby Wheeler’s role model, it’s you.”

“Yeah, well, Mike’s still a stupid teenage boy,” she shrugs. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Eddie salutes her before letting out an embarrassing yawn. Nancy muffles a laugh into her head before reaching for the door. “Hey, Eddie,” she says, glancing over his shoulder. Eddie hums, eyes already drooping. “For what it’s worth, you should also maybe stop being so hard on yourself when it comes to Steve. You’re good for each other.”

* * *

Eddie’s woken from his brief nap a few minutes later by Steve. “Was that Nance I saw leaving your room?” he asks, dumping an armful of vending machine snacks onto the hospital bed tray. The shitheads must have had a successful mission, after all.

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie nods, dazed from being woken up and also the reality of Nancy’s final words to him finally hitting him.

“Oh, no, I know that look,” Steve says, collapsing in the chair previously occupied by Nancy. He kicks his feet up on the edge of Eddie’s bed and tears into a bag of Doritos. “She gave you one of her ‘cut you to your core’ Nance speeches, didn’t she?”

Eddie just nods.

“Shit, I’ve been there,” Steve says, patting Eddie’s shoulder. “It sucks in the moment, but let me tell you. Eventually, you’ll realize she was right all along and thank her. Nance is never wrong.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, stealing a glance at Steve. “I’m never doubting her ever again.”

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #steve harrington #eddie munson ficlet #nancy wheeler ficlet #mike wheeler ficlet #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson & nancy wheeler #steddie #eddie munson fic #nancy wheeler fic #steddie fic #dani writes

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italiansteebie · 1 year

Text

They’re sitting in Steve’s living room, squatting as Steve calls it. “What’s your song?” Steve’s eyes flicked over to meet Eddie’s. “C’mon, Steve. We’ve got everyone else’s. What's yours?” They’d been compiling a mixtape of all their Vecna songs. Y’know, the ones that would hopefully save them from a horrific death.

Steve shrugged, “We’ve got all the important ones.” Deflecting, it’s what he does best. Robin snorts from the other side of the coffee table. “He’s probably embarrassed because it’s like… ABBA or something.”

“Hey! ABBA is iconic! You wouldn't know.” He defended, causing Eddie to let out a boisterous laugh. They moved on, getting the kids' songs burned on there, forgetting about Steve’s missing, unknown song.

It wasn’t brought up again until later that night. Eddie and Robin were the only ones who remained. Besides Steve, of course, who lives there. They were curled up on the couch, an old movie playing on the TV, audio softly in the background. They’re high, and getting a bit too honest. “If “Master of Puppets” hadn’t saved my life, my song would probably be something by Bruce Springsteen.” Steve scoffed at that, “and you make fun of me for ABBA?” Robin snorted, “He got ya there, leather boy.” Eddie arched an eyebrow, “I'm not even… Wearing leather right now,” He laughed, “Anyways. Bruce is Wayne’s favorite. We listened to him all the time when I first got there.” Steve softened at that, leaning over to give Eddie a peck on the forehead and pull him into a tight hug. “That’s sweet, Eds.”

Eddie smiled before turning to Steve, “You still haven’t told us your song!” He accused. Steve had the nerve to look accosted. Robin nodded along, “Yeah, what is it, Dingus!” She bumped her shoulder against his. Steve sighed, “You guys….” He whined. “You probably won’t even know it!” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Quit being dramatic Steve. Just tell us.”

“Fine! Fine… It’s Lonely Boy by Andrew Gold. I heard it first when I was 5… The nanny at the time looked at me… and I could just tell she was thinking ‘wow, this is your song, Steve.’ Because that’s what I was… I am…” It felt good, in the end, to get it off his chest, but the way Eddie and Robin were looking at him now is the exact reason he didn’t want to share.

Eddie looked at him, eyes shining. “Oh, Stevie…” He whispered. “That's why I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want to bring the mood down.” He sighed, eyes shifting to Robins who looked just as sad as Eddie.

“Well… You’re not lonely anymore, right? You’ve got us.” Robin said shyly, a tone that didn’t fit her well. Steve smiled, “Yeah. I’ve got you.” He turned and gave Eddie a soft kiss, whispering “And I’ve got you too.” A warm smile spread across his face, but the moment was quickly over when Robin shouted “EW! Get a room.” Smile returning to her face. Steve rolled his eyes fondly, pushing at her shoulder until she fell over, eventually rolling off the couch. “This is my house!” He laughed.

Maybe it’s time to figure out a new song.

----

the lyrics to steve's song:

He was born on a summer day 1951

And with a slap of a hand

He landed as an only son

His mother and father said what a lovely boy

We'll teach him what we learned

Ah yes just what we learned

We'll dress him up warmly and

We'll send him to school

It'll teach him how to fight

To be nobody's fool

Oh, oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

In the summer of '53 his mother

Brought him a sister

And she told him we must attend to her needs

She's so much younger than you

Well he ran down the hall and he cried

Oh how could his parents have lied

When they said he was an only son

He thought he was the only one

Oh, oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

Goodbye mama, goodbye to you

Goodbye papa I'm pushing on through

He left home on a winter day 1969

And he hoped to find all the love

He had lost in that earlier time

Well his sister grew up

And she married a man

He gave her a son

Ah yes a lovely son

They dressed him up warmly

They sent him to school

It taught him how to fight

To be nobody's fool

Oh, oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

Oh, oh, oh, oh what a lonely boy

Oh what a lonely boy

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eds6ngel · 10 months

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hey! I just saw your account and I loved it, I'm looking for accounts that have open requests, if you don't like it, leave me empty, you have no obligation!🤍 eddie x reader where reader likes physical touch, but eddie isn't much of that, and he ends up calling her clingy or suffocating

hey beautiful! i made this a lot more angsty than you asked, but that’s just what i seem to do well, so i hope you enjoy regardless!

warnings: fem!reader. pet names. swearing. mentions of abuse. yelling. swearing. a lot of angst. a lot of hurt. eddie’s childhood trauma </3. comfort. self-inflicted pain. meltdowns. tons of sad eddie. but also some tooth-rotting fluff!! [2.3k].

Childhood trauma was a bitch.

Eddie loved you. He really did. But, it was fairly obvious that your love language was physical touch.

He explained to you that he wasn’t the best at giving physical touch, which was true, but he didn’t tell you from the receiving end. And arguably, that was ten times worse.

And it got visibly worse closer to traumatic events. This wasn’t just a relationship thing either. Close to his mother’s death anniversary last year, he practically shut himself off from all of his friends. He pushed Dustin off of every hug he tried to give.

And this time, it was the anniversary week of when his dad beat him so hard, he broke his nose and cheekbone. He was seven years old at the time.

They say that trauma-filled dates stay with you until the day you die, and Eddie was convinced that was one hundred percent true.

You see Eddie standing by his locker, sneaking up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “Guess who?”

You fail to notice the slight flinch in Eddie’s demeanour as he becomes aware of your presence. That was something he struggled with majorly. The unwantedness of your touch.

“Yeah. Hi babe,” he replies slamming his locker shut, D&D manual in his hand.

“How are you?” you ask cheerily, hands still wrapped around his waist as he turns to face you.

“Yeah. Fine, fine,” he says, looking around frantically as he pushes a hand through his hair, letting a shaky breath out.

“You okay?” you ask, placing a soft hand on cheek, him instantly moving his head away and wincing, closing his eyes in pain.

“Yeah. I’m good babe, I promise,” he lies through his teeth. He couldn’t tell you yet. He couldn’t scare you away. He couldn’t lose you. “I just… I have to get going, campaign starts soon.”

“Baby, it doesn’t start for another thirty minutes,” you say, a disappointed look settling on your face.

“Actually, um…” he thinks for an excuse, “We’ve decided to start early today. We’re all just too excited to wait any longer to finish this campaign.”

“Oh,” you softly mumbled, “Okay. Will I see you later?”

“No,” he blurts out, a confused look perched on your face. “Sorry… I mean, um, Wayne and I were going to spend some time together. He has the night off from work.”

You nod, understanding why he wanted some alone time, “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

He softly smiles, “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

You lean up and place a quick kiss on his lips before turning your back and waving goodbye to him.

But, on your way home, you wondered why his behaviour was… off. You caught on he wasn’t the biggest fan of physical touch early on in the relationship, but even so, when you hugged him from behind like that, he would still lightly place his hands on top of yours.

And why did he flinch? It’s not like your hands are rough or you gave a harsh movement, it was the same as every other time. And every other time, he would nuzzle his face into your hand. A small gesture, but enough reciprocation to show comfortability.

Maybe he was just having a bad day. Tomorrow’s a new day. Perhaps he would be better tomorrow.

But, you were very wrong.

You walk into the cafeteria, spotting Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire boys sitting at their usual table.

You beam as you walk over, reaching the table and taking your usual seat, on Eddie’s lap. You sit on top of his thigh, wrapping your arm around the back of his shoulder and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

The conversation goes as normal. Random chats about classes, latest campaigns, recent shows, a mix of everything.

But, Eddie is trying his hardest not to break. His other knee is bouncing and his hand is shaking, him trying to hide the fact by shoving pretzel after pretzel into his mouth.

With the boys loud chatter and the visible weight on his leg, it all becomes too overwhelming for him.

“Babe, can you get off please?” he whispers, just loud enough so she can hear.

“What?” you ask, making sure you heard right.

“Can you fucking get off of me!” he yells, his eyes on the brink of watering as you flinch at the loudness of his voice right beside your ear. You quickly move off of his lap, taking the empty seat beside Mike to your left.

“So fucking clingy all the time,” he grumbles, a slight waver to his face which you pick up on.

You reach out towards his hand, “Baby, what’s wro—“

But, he lets out a harsh whine and slams his fist down on the table in frustration, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

He grabs his small lunch box and loudly pushes his chair back, the legs scraping across the floor as he powers out of the cafeteria, arms folded across his chest.

All of the boys have their heads staring down at the table, each avoiding eye contact as they pick at the food on their plates.

“Gareth?” you pipe up, “Can I talk to you a second?”

“Uh… yeah,” he says, the pair of you getting up and walking over to the end of the cafeteria, away from the rest of the boys to be able to hear.

“What’s going on with him?”

Gareth sighs, a sense of knowing to his voice, “It’s best if you talk to him. It’s just…” he pauses, “It’s not my place to say.”

“Is he okay?” you ask in a concerned manner, worried for your boyfriend’s sudden shift in behaviour.

“No… he never is around this time of year. It’s… stuff from the past,” he explains, “I’m not the one to tell you, but he really needs your support. I would suggest you go find him.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, “Thank you Gareth,” you smile, walking back over to the table and collecting your belongings, before turning and walking out of the cafeteria and to the parking lot.

As you burst through the main doors, you look around, Eddie’s van nowhere in sight.

“Shit,” you curse, powering over to your own car and throwing your backpack in the backseat, jumping in the front and slamming the door shut. You put your keys in the ignition and turn it on, reversing out of the parking lot and heading down to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

It’s 1:30 by the time you reach Eddie’s trailer, stepping out of your car, seeing his van parked on the driveway. You walk up to his front door and knock on it, surprisingly no answer being shared.

It felt wrong, but you turn the handle and open the door, stepping into the small space, seeing the walls covered in Wayne’s favourite mugs. You giggle to yourself, he sure had a lot of favourites.

You walk past the couch, heading down the hallway and coming to a halt at his bedroom door. Making sure not to scare him, you lightly knock, “Eddie? Honey, it’s only me.”

“Leave me alone,” you hear him mumble from the other side, that waver in his voice returning once more.

You sigh, “I know you don’t really want that Eds,” you say, knowing that he did indeed want you to be there, he just shut himself out when things went wrong. “I’m going to come in, okay?”

When you are met with silence, you slowly open the door, turning to your right to see Eddie curled up in a ball in the middle of his bed, his knees tucked up to his chest and his head in between his legs.

As he looks up at you, you can see how puffy his eyes are from all the crying, his hair also a fluffy mess. It was the worst sight you had ever seen.

You sigh as you take a seat at the opposite end of his bed, giving your boyfriend enough space to make him feel comfortable. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him more.

“Gareth told me to come and find you. He didn’t tell me the details, but…” you take a breath, “He said you get like this every year and that you could do with my support. So, here I am.”

He simply nods, a strong silence filling the air once more. Seeing as the conversation wasn’t moving any further, you tell him something truthful, “I’m not pushing you to tell me a single thing, but whatever is making you have this reaction, I won’t judge you for it, okay? Our past doesn’t define us, and if you think that telling me is going to make me leave you, I can guarantee you that will never happen in a million years.”

He sniffles, “You won’t leave me?”

You attempt to lighten the mood, “Eds, unless you axe murdered someone in the past fifty days, I promise I won’t leave you.”

He slightly smiles at this as he untangles himself from his self-made ball and sits up on his bed. He takes a breath, debating to admit the truth to you, “You know I don’t live in the most… conventional family. I mean, it’s just me and my Uncle Wayne, you know? But…” he sighs out shakily, “I’ve never told you about my parents… Specifically my dad.”

You look over at him, “I’m listening, baby.”

You can see his leg bouncing, you refraining from the urge to put your hand out to calm him down, realising on the way here that physical touch must’ve been the issue he was facing with you.

“This week… Well, it’s been ten years since my dad hit me so hard he broke my nose and cheekbone. And I just…” He shakes his head in annoyance as the tears spill once again, “Fuck… I know you’re not him. God, you’re nothing like him. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, and you would never hurt me in my lifetime.”

He hits his head a few times with the palm of his hand, you almost jumping in to stop him as he refrains himself from continuing. God, it hurt to see him like this.

He sniffles, “Just… The way you touched my cheek like that yesterday in the hallway, and then today with how overwhelming everything felt in the cafeteria… It just brought back so many fuckin’ memories…”

You slightly shuffle closer to him, maintaining enough distance to make sure you weren’t pushing any boundaries. “And… I’m sorry,” he cries, “You aren’t clingy, not at all, I just couldn’t cope with the physical touch, and I’m just… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, angel,” you softly speak, “Trauma is a tough thing. You shouldn’t feel the need to put on a brave face and cover it up just to make others happy. If you don’t want me to touch you, I’m okay with that. Touch isn’t the only way to show love.”

You inch just a tiny bit closer, seeing that he wasn’t flinching anymore and his breathing was becoming more regulated, “I just want to tell you that we have moments where we crash and burn. Healing isn’t a linear process baby. And if you have moments where you don’t want me to hug you or kiss you or simply hold your hand, then all I ask from you is to let me know, okay?”

He shakes his head, “But, I want you to touch me. I don’t want your touch, your such kind and loving touch, to link to his hands,” he spits out the end of his sentence, an obvious frustration at his traumatic childhood.

“Well…” you think for a second, “Why don’t you guide me?”

He looks up slightly in confusion, you beginning to explain yourself further, “Take my hand honey. Guide me to where you want me to touch you. That way, you’ll know that my hands are safe and you are the one initiating the touch. It’s just a small step in healing yourself.”

He looks down at your hands, taking a shaky breath before grabbing them with his own. He places each one on either side of his cheek. You can feel him take a sharp intake as he feels your skin come into contact with his.

He’s gripping onto your hands, afraid to let go as his eyes are closed, you whispering out a soft, “Listen to the sound of my voice baby. It’s only me. It’s your girl’s hands.”

And with those words, he removes his hands from yours, letting them sit comfortably on his cheeks. You can feel and hear him start to cry once more, but this time, in a sense of relief.

He felt safe in what felt like forever. For the first time in years, this week in his life, he let someone touch him, and he didn’t feel scared. He felt safe, he felt secure, he felt loved.

You can feel him reach out for your waist, pulling you close as he places his head on your chest, sobbing into your shirt. “I’m sorry,” he cries out again.

Your hands are now stroking his hair, tangled in his brown curls as you place a soft kiss on his hairline, leaning your head on top of his.

“You don’t need to apologise, my love. We’ll get through this, you’ll get through this. Because I know how strong you are, how tough you are. You aren’t as weak as you think you are. What you did just there? That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen someone do. And that is what makes you a strong person. The ability to overcome a fear and accept love into your life when you most struggle with it.”

You can feel him place a soft kiss on your exposed chest, him mumbling, “Thank you. I love you.”

You place one more tender kiss to his head, replying, “I love you too. So incredibly proud of you.”

And that is what he needed. Someone to tell him that he was a strong person. He was worth loving and that he should be proud of himself. And he’s forever grateful that he gets to call that person his girl.

thank you for reading! and i’m sorry for the utter heartbreak in this, but it’s just what i do best </3 hope this was good for you my love!

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson angst #eddie munson hurt #eddie munson fanfic #eds6ngel

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 1 year

Text

North To The Future [Chapter 4: Semi-Charmed Life]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, veterinary medicine, delicious Thanksgiving nomz, ANGST and let me repeat that last one in case you missed it ANGSTTTTTTTTT!!!

Word count: 5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @meadowofsinfulthoughts @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @b1gb3anz @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Here’s the thing about the Ice Fisher: he doesn’t have a type. Ted Bundy liked girls and young women. John Wayne Gacy liked boys and young men. Juan Corona liked farm laborers, Belle Gunness liked suitors who answered the marriage ads she placed in Chicago newspapers, Robert Hansen liked sex workers who he would set loose in the Alaskan wilderness and then hunt down with his Ruger Mini-14. Everyone has their preferences. But not the Ice Fisher.

The first victim was a burly mid-fifties logger and recreational hunter named Josiah Wolfenstein. The second was nineteen-year-old college student Tammy Miller; she was from Sitka and studying psychology, a choice that now strikes you as ironic. The third and most recent victim was Carol Philips: forty-three, Garth Brooks superfan, amateur baker, and beloved soccer mom. They have nothing in common except for their manner of death. They reveal no pattern. They shed no light on who the Ice Fisher is targeting, and conversely who can consider themselves safe. Everyone is a potential victim. And there is no such thing as safe.

In between veterinary appointments, you watch the local news coverage on the grainy tv in the clinic lobby, your arms crossed instinctively over your chest, your face grim.

“You want some bear mace?” Jennifer says, showing you a small black cannister attached to a keychain. “My boyfriend buys a new one for me every time someone gets murdered, so now I have extra.”

You take it tentatively. “Bear mace?”

“Yeah, but it works on people too. It has a 30-foot range. You can spray that Greek guy with it.”

You laugh and clip the bear mace to your purse: a Coach patchwork saddle bag that your parents bought you a few Christmases ago. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chief of Police Eugene Baker, a high school classmate of your parents, is holding a press conference on the television screen. “We believe this killer to be an adult male with considerable physical strength and knowledge of the outdoors. While the first two victims were found in Dredge Lake, Ms. Philips’ remains were recovered from nearby Crystal Lake, complicating the investigation. Police are patrolling the Tongass National Forest, but we simply do not have the manpower to surveille all Juneau-area lakes at all times. We therefore will continue to ask for the public’s cooperation in submitting tips and identifying possible suspects. To this end, we have set up an anonymous 24/7 hotline staffed by volunteers; the phone number is displayed at the bottom of your screen. We advise all Juneau residents to stay vigilant, particularly around strangers, and avoid leaving their homes alone after dark…”

Outside in the violet-and-amber afternoon light, there is the sound of tires slipping on ice. Aegon’s 1985 Chevy Nova drifts sideways into a parking spot; or, rather, into a position improbably straddling three separate parking spots. He and Sunfyre exit the vehicle.

“Oh, great,” Jen grumbles. She hides behind the reception desk so she won’t have to interact with Aegon. She busies herself with cutting pieces of paper into snowflakes, impaling them with paperclips, and arranging them on the miniature Christmas tree that you obtained for the clinic.

“Hey!” Aegon announces merrily as he breezes inside. He is dressed in his light-wash Levis, black Converses, and an oversized pale green sweater with holes in it; the white of the T-shirt he has on underneath shines through the gaps like stars. Overtop he has thrown the black parka you gave him, unzipped and peppered with melting snowflakes. Half of his hair is pulled back in a messy bun. Sunfyre—still wearing his cone of shame—trots along beside him, unleashed.

“Hey,” you return, smiling. “You’re early.”

“We weren’t catching anything, there was an orca pod in the bay this morning and it scared most of the fish off. So we docked the boat after lunch.” His spots the new addition to your purse. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s bear mace. For bears…or serial killers…or you. I haven’t decided which yet. What’s up with your hair?”

“It’s a man bun,” he says, somewhat defensive. “They’re very popular in Southern California.”

“That sounds fictional.”

“I’ll have you know that in the acclaimed feature film Mulan, love interest and all-around badass General Li Shang had a man bun.”

“Literally fictional.”

“Are you going to take the stitches out of my dog’s face or are you just going to mercilessly bully me? I’m very sensitive, you know. As an Aquarius, I hide this beneath a thin veneer of rebellious behavior and inability to commit, but at my heart I am a profoundly fragile man. I’m forever just a few seconds away from disaster. I’m a Christmas ornament in the unsteady hands of a five-year-old high on the jittery, saccharine rush of Kool-Aid.”

“Tropical Punch?”

“Cherry. But knowing you, every cup would have to be a brand new flavor.”

You’re still smiling; you haven’t stopped since he walked in. Aegon smiles back. Jen peeks over the top of the reception desk with wide, curious eyes. Sunfyre whines and scratches at his cone, as if to remind everyone about the true purpose of this visit.

“Bring the beast,” you say, leading Aegon back into the exam room. He scoops up Sunfyre with a grunt and places him on top of the table; the dog’s nails click against the cool, reflective metal surface. You liberate Sunfyre from his cone, then numb his muzzle with lidocaine and remove the stitches one at a time, snipping them with surgical scissors and then pulling them out of the flesh with tweezers. Aegon watches you with his hands in his parka pockets, his expression strangely vacant.

“He’ll have a scar, won’t he?”

“Yes, a small one. But that will just make him more rugged and attractive to all the lady-dogs. Or gentleman-dogs, whatever Sunfyre is into.”

“A scar on his face,” Aegon murmurs, then shakes his pensiveness away. “What should I bring to Thanksgiving?”

“Probably nothing. I think my parents have it covered…the appetizers, the dinner, the desserts…and also, you do not strike me as someone who cooks.”

“Yeah, I eat a lot of Lunchables. But I feel like I should bring something.”

Your eyes flick to his, playful. “Are you worried about making a good first impression?”

Aegon smirks, shrugs, says nothing. Sometimes you make an appearance at Ursa Minor, sometimes you don’t; sometimes you pick up when he calls, sometimes you end up spending hours in his apartment watching the X-Files or Law & Order or 60 Minutes. Other times, you fill your time with work, family, friends, flipping through the tower of travel magazines you have stacked beside your bed. It’s not that you’re ignoring Aegon. It’s that you’re trying to figure out what being with him would be like: what you would gain, what it would cost. He hasn’t tried to touch you since that night under the Northern Lights. You haven’t tried to pry into his many mysteries. But each unanswered question is like a landmine one careless step away from eruption, and they’re filling up that space that stays between you on his threadbare floral couch. At this precise moment, Aegon seems sober, which is highly unusual. There’s something quiet and boyish about him when he’s like this, something almost vulnerable. You can picture him wandering aimlessly through the Foodland, staring at mounds of Idaho potatoes and cans of gooey apple pie filling, having no idea what to do with any of it.

“My mom really likes flowers,” you say. “And obviously she doesn’t get to see them a lot this time of year. So if you want to bring something, bring flowers.”

“Okay. Deal.”

“No rum and Cokes today?” you ask, still removing stitches with sure, deft hands.

“Not yet. But I’m counting the seconds until we’re done here, believe me.”

You recall what he told you as you sat together in Ursa Minor under Christmas lights and strands of shimmering silver tinsel: I don’t do well when I’m sober. You pull out the last stitch and pet Sunfyre’s soft fluffy head. He pants happily, his tail thumping against the table, his trusting dark eyes gazing up at you, tiny starless universes. “Why did you buy the Nova if you’re almost always too drunk to drive it?”

“So I can take Sunfyre up to the woods on nice days. He loves the trails.”

“Um, I don’t think you should be hiking out there alone.”

“Relax. Killers never get the people who deserve it.” Aegon flashes you grin, digs around in his parka pocket, tosses you a gold key that you catch in fumbling, cupped palms. “Here.”

“What is this?”

“It’s a spare. Just in case you ever want to stop by and hang out with my dog. Or, you know. Me.”

You gawk at the key, at Aegon, back to the key. “You’re giving me a…? Why would…? How…?”

“Just so you know it’s an option,” Aegon says. He lifts Sunfyre down from the exam table and leaves like the sun at dusk.

~~~~~~~~~~

You love waking up at home on holiday mornings. There is the noise of clanging pots and pans, the scents of bacon and pancakes and rising Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, the sound of one of your dad’s rock albums spinning on the record player in the living room. Today, his Thanksgiving preparation background music is Third Eye Blind; you bound down the stairs as Semi-Charmed Life drifts through the house. After a swift breakfast—your mom has already set out a plate for you, along with a glass of ice-cold orange juice and a Flintstones multivitamin—the real work begins.

The turkey is slathered with butter and herbs and placed in the oven. The neck and giblets are boiled to make stock for gravy, and then you set them aside for Sunfyre. The rolls are baked, the potatoes are mashed, the yams are smothered with brown sugar and marshmallows, the green bean casserole is topped with French’s fried onions, the stuffing is Stove Top out of the box, the cranberry sauce retains the precise shape of the aluminum can it was jiggled out of. Once you and your dad have finished setting the table, you tell him you’re heading out to pick up the mysterious friend who will be joining you for dinner.

“Your friend doesn’t have a car?” your dad asks, not critical or suspicious, merely intrigued. You have been uncharacteristically cagey about this particular friend, and with good reason. You know practically nothing besides what your parents have already surmised: male, probably single, inopportunely sexy.

“No, he does. I just told him that I’d give him a ride.” In case he gets too hammered to drive himself home, which is almost a certainty.

“Okay, ladybug,” your dad says, folding the red cloth napkins into inelegant triangles, his scruffy grey eyebrows knitted together. “Whatever floats your boat.”

When you knock on Aegon’s apartment door, he appears dressed in his most festive attire: a blue Hawaiian shirt, black jeans, combat boots, a gold chain around his neck, his white-blond hair neat and mostly straight. He is holding a bouquet of roses that have been dyed a deep sapphire color, like the ocean, like biting winter cold.

“Wow,” you say. “You look like Leonardo DiCaprio in Romeo + Juliet.”

“I hope I get a happier ending.” He calls Sunfyre over. The golden retriever pads into view. He is wearing a meticulously groomed coat of fur and a blue bowtie to match Aegon’s shirt.

“Hey, buddy!” you squeal in delight, squatting down to scratch Sunfyre’s ears and cover his scarred muzzle with quick smacking kisses. “You are going to be so psyched when you see what we have for you. There’s a nice turkey neck…and a heart, and a liver…and a delicious gizzard…and maybe even some nice juicy kidneys…and I’ll slice it up all up for you into easily chewable little bites…”

“Calm down, Appletini,” Aegon says, grabbing his parka. “You wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’re the Ice Fisher.”

Back at your parents’ house, your mom and dad dash to the door to meet your enigmatic friend, clamoring like teenage girls at an Enrique Iglesias concert. Aegon beams and shakes their hands, thanking them graciously for the invitation. Your dad shoots you a furtive grin: This friend IS sexy! Sunfyre presents himself for pats and high-pitched coos of adoration.

“I’m Vince, and this is my wife Debbie,” your dad says. “But you can call us Mom and Dad, that’ll make things less confusing. That’s what most of my daughter’s friends do.”

“That is so totally cool of you. I’m Aegon.”

“Aegon?!” your mom blurts out before she can stop herself.

He sighs. “It’s Greek.”

“Oh, how exotic!” she recovers tactfully, then gasps when he hands her the bouquet. “For me?!”

“It’s the absolute least I could do. I hope you like roses. The options at the Foodland were roses, roses, or…let me think…oh yeah, more roses.”

“They’re lovely,” your mom purrs. “And such a unique color!”

“They reminded me of Alaska, all the ocean, and ice, and big open sky…and also Appletini. Because I always give her the blue mug.”

Your parents blink at him, confounded. “…Appletini?” your dad ventures, smiling.

“It’s a long story,” you say, suddenly shy.

“Well, come on in,” your mom courteously deflects. “There are deviled eggs, salmon dip, Ritz crackers, and pigs in a blanket just waiting to be eaten.”

As your mom and dad bang around the kitchen putting the final touches on dinner, you and Aegon assemble your appetizer plates and loiter in the dining room, nibbling and chatting, bathed in the flickering golden light of the woodstove and humming along to the red Third Eye Blind vinyl that is still rotating on the record player like a bloody planet. There are three unopened bottles of wine on the table. Aegon keeps glancing at them, his eyes gleaming and famished.

“Would you like a tour of the house?” you say. “An authentic Alaskan house? Come March you’ll probably never have this opportunity again. You’ll be jet-setting off to some other far-flung destination, probably somewhere warm where they have plentiful Taco Bells and internet.”

“I’m not a fan of the internet,” Aegon replies, piling a Ritz cracker worryingly high with salmon dip. “But Taco Bells are a must. Yes, lead the way, oh wise and prophetic Madame Appletini.”

You show him the kitchen where your parents are laboring (floral wallpaper), the study (more floral wallpaper), the living room (wood paneling), and the backyard (adorned with a salt lick for the friendly neighborhood cow moose). Then you take Aegon upstairs to your bedroom. He ponders the details for a nerve-rackingly long time as he gnaws on slightly-too-crispy pigs in a blanket: your stack of travel magazines, your veterinary books, your dark blue bedding, the photographs taped to your mirror, the plethora of posters tacked to your walls.

Aegon speaks without looking at you, still investigating. “Has Trent ever gotten to enjoy your extensive collection of Ricky Martin posters?”

“Not yet. Preferably not ever.”

Now Aegon turns to you; he is smiling. “I feel so sorry for him.”

“Dinner’s ready, kids!” your dad shouts up the stairs, and you obediently report to the table to eat until you are in agony, which to your understanding is the primary objective of Thanksgiving.

“Drinks?” you mom inquires as she lights the tall red candles. The blue roses are in a vase at the center of the table. “There’s Tang, and Snapple, and water of course, and Pinot Noir. Martha Stewart says that’s the best wine to pair with turkey.”

“Wine, please,” Aegon says. She fills his glass. It vanishes almost immediately.

Aegon is the perfect guest: he samples everything and offers enthusiastic compliments, even when he is clearly horrified (as he is by the green bean casserole): “The turkey is so moist and flavorful!” “The yams are like dessert!” “It’s so fun to poke this cranberry sauce!” “My, what a creative use of cream of mushroom soup!” Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Sunfyre feasts on a plate of turkey organs and a few slices of white meat. You have a glass of wine, and so does your dad; your mom has two; you lose count of Aegon’s glasses after four. He becomes increasingly uncoordinated, giggly, fogged like a window. Your parents do not encourage him to drink, but they don’t try to stop him either; they ignore his drunkenness like a ghost that stands in the corner of the room, silent, waiting, set ablaze by firelight.

“Do I detect a British accent?” your dad asks Aegon pleasantly. “So this must be a new experience for you. Did you grow up abroad?”

“I grew up everywhere.” Aegon smirks evasively, swigging his wine. “And yes, my exposure to Thanksgiving is extremely limited. But I like this. I like this a lot. I’m going to have to do it every year, wherever I am. Sunfyre will rebel if I don’t. He’ll call PETA to file a complaint.”

“You do quite a bit of travelling, I gather,” your mom says. She watches Aegon with an intense, mesmerized sort of interest. It’s almost unnerving. It’s like she is searching for something: fingerprints dusted at a crime scene, gold nuggets sifted from a river.

“All over. All the time.”

“What do you do for work?”

“Everything,” Aegon says. “Here I’m salmon trolling. In San Francisco I was a dockworker, in San Diego I was a lifeguard—you don’t want to know how little training it takes to be a custodian of human lives, it’s absolutely horrifying, they’d let a great white shark be a lifeguard if it looked good in red—in Phoenix I did construction, just outside of Denver I got a job working on a cattle ranch. In Dallas I picked cotton. In Portland, Maine I caught lobsters. I’ll try anything once. I just like to keep moving. As long as I can make enough money to have somewhere for me and Sunfyre to sleep at night, I’m happy.”

“You’re just like Jack Dawson in Titanic,” your mom sighs, smiling in a way that brightens her whole face. “All you need is the air in your lungs.”

“You work on the same boat as Heather’s brother Trent, is that right?” your dad asks.

“Oh, Trent!” your mom says. “He’s a hunk. He looks just like a long-haired Matt Damon.”

You squint at her. “Yeah, if Matt Damon did steroids.”

“He’s a nice boy, that Trent,” your dad says. “I mean, he won’t be winning Who Wants To Be A Millionaire anytime soon, but he’s solid.”

Your mom nods in agreement. “Dumb as a rock.”

“He’s a great guy,” Aegon says diplomatically. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless that fly was a salmon.” He laughs overly-loudly, sloshing red wine out of his glass and staining the tablecloth like blood on snow. Your parents pretend not to notice.

After dinner, your mom brings out dessert: one pumpkin pie, one apple pie, one plate full of Tongass Forest Cookies. Aegon samples both pies and gobbles cookies until his Hawaiian shirt is littered with crumbs, washing them down with more wine. Then he gets up to pull on his parka and let Sunfyre outside. Aegon lurches as he moves, clutching walls and counters and the backs of chairs.

“I’ll go with you,” your mom offers before you can. She helps Aegon down the icy porch steps and then plays with Sunfyre in the backyard: chasing him through the snow, throwing sticks for him to fetch, tossing snowballs for him to snap between his jaws. Aegon, wobbly but in good spirits, participates as much as he can. And the way that your mom looks at him…it’s an expression you can’t recall ever seeing on her face before. It is fascination and fondness and grief all tangled up together. The light in her eyes is beautiful; it is also breathtakingly sad.

Your dad taps one of the empty wine bottles. “He’s got a problem, ladybug.”

“I know.”

“You can’t fix that for him. He has to want to fix himself.”

“I know,” you say again, your voice a brittle whisper.

Your dad sighs deeply and clasps his hands together, stares out the window, contemplates something heavy and unseen. At last, he speaks. “I’ve loved your mother my whole life. And when she and Jesse got together, I thought it was going to kill me. It wasn’t the fact that she was with another man. It was what he put her through. There were fights, there were bruises, and then there were promises and apologies, past-due bills and handmade birthday cakes, locked doors, open doors, kicked down doors. I couldn’t get her to leave him, and I couldn’t watch it keep happening. I tried everything to get away from your mother. I joined the goddamn Marines to get away from her. Four years in Vietnam and I still couldn’t sweat her out. I came back to Juneau and used my G.I. Bill to go to the University of Alaska, and…I would never admit this to anyone except you, but you need to hear it…I waited for that marriage to fall apart. And it did, but it took Jesse drowning in the Gastineau Channel.” He looks at you with miserable, glistening eyes. “Watching the way your mother suffered with a man like that was hell. Watching you go through the same thing would be unbearable.”

There is silence: a silence as thick and perilous as the ocean. Your dad studies you, searching for understanding, for a rational consensus to be reached. You study the lines in your palms. There is nothing rational about what you’re feeling. Alaska is flush with eligible men who are not temporary, not secretive, not unrepentant alcoholics: pilots, truckers, fishermen, loggers, oil riggers, scientific researchers, park rangers. You don’t want any of them. You’ve never wanted anything the way you want Aegon. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair.

The back door opens, and your mom and Sunfyre—elated and covered in snow—romp into the house. Your mom is giggling as she grabs a dishtowel from the kitchen and begins to clean the snow from Sunfyre’s fur. “You might want to…uh…retrieve Aegon,” she tells you. “It’s pretty cold out there.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Making snow angels.”

“Oh. Great.” You put on your own parka and head out into the afternoon twilight.

“Hey,” Aegon says from where he’s sprawled on the ground. He’s sweeping his arms and legs back and forth as stars rise in the sky.

“Hey. Are you having fun down there?”

“Yes.” His breath is a cloud in the frigid air. His arms and legs go still. “I love feeling small like this. Nothing matters. Not our pasts, not our accomplishments, not our mistakes. We’re all just bones with memories. We’re all just future space dust.”

“You don’t want to be remembered?”

“God no. What would be worth remembering? I want to be a whisper. I want to be the wind that blows over the ocean.” He cranes his neck to look up at you, thoughtful in that glazed, drunken sort of way. “You can remember me, I guess. I’ll allow that. But only you. No one else.”

“Assuming I outlive you.”

“You will obviously outlive me.” He holds his arms up in the air and you pull him to his feet.

“I think it’s time for you and Sunfyre to go home.”

“Oh no.” His face is filled with abrupt realization. “Do your parents hate me?”

“No, they like you. They like you a lot. They’re just worried about you.” And they’d be a lot more worried if they knew about the track marks on your arms or the fact that you can’t stay in one place longer than six months without being descended upon by maybe-metaphorical ghosts.

Aegon laughs wildly, almost hysterically. He reaches for your shoulder to steady himself and then stops short. He sways in the late-November air, his hair dripping from the snow, his hazy blue eyes all over you. You tuck his ever-errant lock of hair behind his ear. I love him, you think helplessly, like when you know you’re dreaming but can’t wake up. “Worried about me,” he muses without elaborating. “Worried about me.”

Your parents send Aegon home with warm hugs and Tupperware containers full of leftovers, including extra turkey meat for Sunfyre and a truly ludicrous helping of cookies. You drive to Aegon’s apartment building slowly so Sunfyre can stick his head out the back window and bark gleefully at every car you pass. It is dark when you get there, the sunset come and gone, the constellations visible in a rare clear sky: Gemini, Orion, Draco, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor. Your Jeep idles under the lusterless beam of a streetlight.

Aegon asks, a ghost of a smile on his lips: “You want to come upstairs with me?”

“Yes,” you reply. And if you do, you won’t leave until morning. “But not until I’ve talked to you about something first.”

“It’s important,” Aegon says softly, not a question but an observation, reading your face like a weather forecast: chance of sun, chance of storms.

“Yes, it’s important.”

“Okay. Let me take Sunfyre inside and I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t kiss you goodbye, he doesn’t even hug you. He reaches out with one hand and dusts his calloused thumbprint across your cheekbone, marveling at you like you’re a radiant horizon, like you’re ancient ruins: cave paintings older than the pyramids, pillars of stones and secrets. Then he gets out of the Jeep and staggers into the apartment building with Sunfyre scampering along beside him. He reappears moments later, his hands buried in the pockets of his parka. You were too anxious to wait in the Jeep; you pace back and forth beneath the dim ochre streetlight. Aegon watches you from several yards away, waiting for you to begin.

“Look,” you say. “I like you.”

“Cool.”

“No, I mean, I really like you.”

He smiles like the sun, like the Northern Lights. “So you are applying to be my Juneau girl.”

“Yes. But I need something from you first.”

His blue eyes are calm beneath the streetlight, beneath the starlight. “Name it.”

“I need you to get help.”

Aegon shakes his head, not understanding, his smile slowly dying. His lock of bone-white hair cuts his cheek in half like a scar. “What are you talking about?”

“You can go to rehab. I’ll help you find a program, I’ll take care of Sunfyre while you’re away.”

Everything about him changes, like the phases of the moon: his face darkens, his eyes go steely and sharp, everything you love about him is eclipsed. “I don’t need rehab.”

“Aegon, you obviously need rehab.”

He glares at you with savage distrust, with betrayal.

“I need you to get yourself together,” you plead. “I want to be with you, I want to let myself care about you, but I can’t do that when you’re killing yourself right in front of me.”

“I don’t see how it affects you.”

“It does. It will.”

“I’m a lot better now than I was two years ago.”

“It’s not good enough, Aegon.”

He looks down at his combat boots, then back at you. You barely recognize him. “So I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“It’s what you meant, it’s what this whole fucking conversation is about, right?” he flares. “You not being satisfied with the kind of person I am. You thinking that you get any say at all in who I am. Are you delusional, are you that goddamn narcissistic? Have you staked some claim to me that I’m unaware of? Are you Christopher Columbus here to strip me bare and claim you discovered me?”

“Are you listening to me?! I’m trying to tell you that I l—”

“No, you don’t like me. You like some hypothetical version of me that you’re trying to convince yourself exists.”

You stare at him in heartbroken disbelief. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help.”

“But I thought…if you would just…we could…”

“When the fuck did I ever promise you a future?” Aegon flings like a blade. “When did I ever promise you anything? You think I showed up here to build you some cabin on the side of a mountain, get a desk job, give you Christmases and kids? That’s not me. That’s never going to be me. I’m not yours to use. I’m not a Ricky Martin poster to keep tacked up on your wall. I’m not the impetus to bail you out of your spineless, unfulfilling life.”

“Please stop.” Your throat is burning; there are hot tears slithering from your eyes. The icy wind stings against your face. “Please just stop.”

“I’m not the one who fucked this up,” Aegon hisses. “It was you, it was you, because I told you the truth but you refused to believe it. I’m not yours and I never was and I’m never going to be, so you better get that through your thick fucking skull. I’m not yours.”

“And why would I want someone like you?!” you scream into the darkness. He flinches away like you’ve hit him. His eyes are huge and glassy. “An alcoholic, an addict, a coward who runs away from anything worth living for? I’d rather die than waste my life on you. Wait, my mistake, waste the next four months on you, because then you’ll be fleeing to go terrorize some other girl in some other city. I don’t want you. I can’t wait to forget you.”

“Then go!” Aegon roars over his shoulder as he turns away. “Just fucking go!” He storms off into his apartment building; he disappears like the end of summer, leaving a jet-black endless void.

You retreat back into your Jeep, slam the door, and sit there under the silver-cold moonlight sobbing into empty, trembling hands.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #hotd fanfic #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n

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thegoblinboy · 11 months

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Oh my god, I’m like so stressed but of course I decide to start writing something else while In the midst of writing something else. 🙄 so have a bit of venom steve with spiderman eddie. Promise that Never Say Die will be updated tomorrow after I get out of school (:

Eddies fingers stuck to the ceiling, somehow holding his entire weight. Now, years later he was still confused as to how the hell a ceiling didn’t just collapse when he was crawling across it. There is no explanation for the things he can do. All he knows his that he can do them, and no matter what he’s going to bring Justice for his Uncle. The Harrington’s were the last stone that was left unpicked. The last clue to the mystery. If he didn’t find answers here then Wayne Munson’s death was going to be for nothing. And worst of all his Uncle wouldn’t receive Justice. So that’s how he finds himself crawling around Robert Harrington’s office. Waiting patiently for the older man to leave.

The man’s glasses were falling off his nose, but he was so concentrated on reading his papers that he doesn’t even notice. Whatever that was in those documents must be really important. Eddie moves closer to the window like doors that lead to the balcony. Of course the rich bastard had those. Slowly, and as silent as possible he drops down from the ceiling. Crouching on the carpet, hoping that he didn’t make a wrong move and alert the man. Which was why he hadn’t entered through the doors now behind him. Carefully, he crawls to one of the curtains. Using it as a cover, moving and standing behind it. Becoming one with the cloth. He felt stupid but he didn’t care.

His legs start to ache from standing for so long. Twenty minutes pass before anything exciting happens. Robert Harrington’s doors fling open the rest of the way. A loud crack from the wall, where the door knob created a reasonable hole in. There, stood the most beautiful boy Eddie has ever seen. Wearing a outdated polo and blue jeans. If he wasn’t currently on a mission, he would have fallen on his face from stupidity. He would be lying if he said there wasn’t a slight drool puddle forming in his mask. He knew he was gay, but this guy buried any doubt in his mind (which there was very little to begin with) into the ground.

His eyes have a fiery look to them. Like he was on a rampage of some sort. How a angel like him could possibly hurt a fly was beyond him.

“Stop drooling over Steve Fucking Harrington, Eddie. And focus on what they’re talking about. The suits not catching their voices dipshit.” Henderson’s voice startles Eddie back to his main purpose. If he could move, he would shut off his ear piece the other hand made him. Internally he’s already making note to swat the little shit upside the head when he got home.

Discreetly moving his hand, he subtly rolls one of the gadgets Dustin made him. Watching it roll under Robert Harrington’s desk. The mic catching their voices now. Though Eddie could hear them with the naked ear, Dustin could not.

“Father-” Steve Harrington’s voice is louder then what Eddie imagined it to be. Though he doesn’t understand why he was imagining it in the first place.

“Don’t talk to me like that young man. Remember who you’re talking to.” Mr. Harrington’s voice is in a low growl. Holding his authority the best he can. Though, like with his business the authority he once had over his son was slipping through his finger tips.

“Yeah- I’m talking to Robert Harrington. The biggest fraud of New York City.” Steve has a feral grin on his face. Eddie could barely see him through the curtain, his heart was racing as he’s sure he could see him if he glanced over at any second. “Now- Mom wanted me to tell you, that Dinners done. And that if you don’t go down to eat, she’s going to to cut your balls off.” Steve grins.

“Eddie there’s something off about him.” Dustin’s carefully mumbling into his ear now. “Look at his hands.” He points out.

Eddie listens almost immediately. Eyes flashing towards the others hands that now gripped the corners of his fathers desk. His veins didn’t look right. They looked black? And like they were crawling under his skin. Eddie wasn’t sure what was making his hands to look like that but there was something terribly wrong. He’s heard tales about the Harrington boy. About how he was the nicest one out of them. Now Eddie didn’t personally know him, but his gut was telling him that there was something off about this guy. Most likely he didn’t act like this way normally.

Robert Harrington stands up, jaw set tightly as he moves slamming the book that he was looking through. Moving and closing it in a drawer and locking it shut. Before he’s moving, walking out of the room without a word. Steve’s eyes immediately flicker to the curtain. A amused look on his face as he relaxes his shoulders a bit. “You know there are better hiding places in here.” He says calmly. Hands fidgeting a bit as his veins seem to start to crawl faster. Wrapping themselves around his hands.

Eddie doesn’t see the point in hiding anymore. He moves, walking carefully with his hands up in defense. Steve’s eyes never leave him. “What are you doing in my fathers study?”

“Looking for answers.” Eddie says simply. Sounding vague.

“Hm- mind sharing with the class?” Steve sasses. Crossing his arms over his chest. Hiding his hands, trying to control whatever that was currently happening to his body. Though Eddie could now see that the others veins on his neck were beginning to do the same thing. Moving up to his face, which was scrunching up in a pained expression.

“Eddie.” Dustin’s warns. Sounding a bit to anxious for Eddie’s liking.

“Um- Justice? Hey dude are you alright?” Eddie asks moving forward carefully. Not expecting the other to turn violent. Just as fast as the other entered the office, whatever black substance takes over his body. Reaching out and grabbing ahold of Eddie, before throwing him out the glass door.

Before he is forcefully removed from the others property though, he swears he catches a glimpse of panic and remorse written all over Steve Harrington’s face. Up until whatever that shit was, warps it’s self around his face. Creating a new one. One that he recognized from a few of his past crusades.

Venom

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katyawriteswhump · 1 month

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the power of love, part 14

Sorry about Sunday's empty post ☹️ I must've accidentally put a draft template in my queue because I am basically tired and rubbish and life isn’t the greatest right now. Anyhow.... Whoops and really sorry again!

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Eddie POV

When neither Steve nor Robin show up after ten minutes, Eddie begins to freak out.

He, Hopper and El are still waiting for the car, out of sight among some ferns. Hopper’s getting antsy, muttering beneath his breath, while Eddie’s wriggling like he’s got ants in his pants. Which he genuinely might have, though that’s not what’s bugging him:

“Uuuuh, shall I see what’s taking them so long?”

“You do that,” says Hopper. “What’s going on with that guy? He could barely stand! How the hell could he…”

Eddie tunes out, retracing their journey into the trees, calling Robin’s name then Steve’s. Maybe Steve passed out, and Robin got lost searching? Somehow, he doesn’t buy it. A heaviness slows his feet, and his guts twist sourly.

They wouldn’t just ditch him. Surely? Surely!?!

Fifteen minutes later, he winds up where he started: “They’re not back?”

“What do you reckon?” Hopper’s breathing hard and red in the face. Evidently, he’s been running in circles like Eddie has.

“This is for you.” El nudges Eddie and presses a scrap of paper into his hand. “I think Steve left it.”

“What? Where?” Eddie’s stomach clamps tight again.

Her eyes stretch very wide. “Fell out of your pack.”

Turning the note over in his hands, his fingers stiffen, as if shrinking from the task, bracing for… something. In the event, he gets a literal slap around the face.

“You make me sick,” Steve wrote.

Eddie’s skin burns with the blow. Wow! This is why I never have and never freakin’ will write love songs.

“What does he say?” demands Hopper.

Eddie scans the note one more time, scrunches it in his fist. “I’d hazard a guess he’s gone back to Hawkins.”

“Goddammit! Robin’s gone with him?”

“I think that’s a safe bet.” A wobble in the back of Eddie’s throat finds its way into his voice. Because, boy, is he still processing.

You make me sick.

What does that even mean? To be fair, Eddie did make Steve sick. More than once. But why the heck write… that. Would suck less to be dumped without a word.

Thanks for the overkill, man.

“Don’t you even think about scooting off,” growls Hopper. “Your uncle would never forgive me.”

Oh yeah. Wayne. The only person who ever actually cared about him.

Eddie plonks his butt down on the ground and waits for the car.

…

Steve POV

“C’mon, giddy up,” says Steve. He and Robin make their way along the muddy bank of the stream towards home.

“Is this some kind of race?” she asks. “While I’d forgotten your former life as a douchebag jock, you’re doing a stunning job of reminding me, and… Uuuuugh!”

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong this time?” He spirals about, plants his hands on his hips—he’d ditched the sling a while ago.

She scrubs madly at her lips. “I swallowed a bug! Ugh, ugh, ugh, mega-gross. Eeeeurgh!”

“Maybe if you weren’t complaining, like, constantly, there’d be less opportunities for bugs to get in.”

“You shut up, shit-bird! I could die of malaria.” She spits into the stream. “Ew! EEEEEEEW!”

“Ssssh! Hop said the military will be crawling everywhere soon, or—”

“Eddie might hear?” His heart heaves a loaded thud. She looks back sharply, purses her lips. “You know, he could be lost in the wilderness, all alone. Being hunted by evil army thugs. Or bears! Did you think of that when you sauntered off?”

“I did, yeah. I left him a message saying not to follow.” He shades his face from the afternoon sunlight, which shafts between the trees. Also, he can’t look her straight on and say this: “It was kinda brutal, I guess. It was for his own good, right?”

“Oh. Riiiight.”

“You done spewing insects?” he snaps.

“Still heavily grossed-out here. Gimme a minute, ’kay?” She plonks herself on a rock, crumpling forward.

He mops his brow, strips his sweater, and takes the opportunity to check in on his bat bites. They’re still sore, the bandages a bit bloody. Nothing too fresh, though. For the billionth time, his thoughts fly back to Eddie. He hopes Eddie doesn’t get hurt and need healing while they’re apart, and… Holy shit, will he ever see him again? He ties his sweater around his hips, trying to make fumbling hands look casual.

“Steve? You okay?”

“Other than the fact I’m modelling a ‘shoot-me-now-why don’t-you?’ Hellfire Club t-shirt,”—and that I want to punch myself in the face about that moronic note—“I’m good, Robin.”

“You know what? I don’t doubt it.” She brushes her flyaway hair from suspicious eyes. “You’ve gone from death’s door to super-human speed in, oh, I don’t know—feels to me that we’ve been marching for a week. I think it’s been barely an hour.”

“Yeah? We got a long way to go then.” He starts off along the stream’s edge, forcibly slowing his pace. He senses her puffing, panting, then following on his heels.

“Look, Steve, this water goddess who’s pulling you back, whispering in your ear—”

“I can’t actually tell if they’re male or female. Does that matter?”

“Not in the slightest. So, your water… deity. Have they, by any chance, enlightened you as to some kind of divine plan? Or told you exactly where you’re heading?”

“I got an idea where I’m going, yeah.” To the second place he died, swept away on that blood-red tide—even now, he sees it in his head, like a few frames of a horror VHS stuck on eternal repeat. “Where’s the best place for army generals with dodgy agendas to hang out in Hawkins? There’s never been an army base, apart from—”

“You’re kidding me?” She grabs his elbow, jerking him back. “The Soviet tunnels?” He nods, and her obvious dread has her dropping him like a stone. “No way! I don’t think I can go anywhere near without a major panic attack."

“I’m not gonna march straight in.” He’s already wandering on. Trouble is, now he’s said the idea out loud, it’s become real and terrible. And he’s gotta pretend like his blood’s not congealing to ice. “I don’t know how I’m gonna get in anyhow. I mean, the Starcourt lift is buried under a ton of rubble. I think Hop might’ve know other ways—”

“Oooh, I got a great idea. Let’s go back and ask him.”

“Yeah, real subtle.”

“Steve!” She seizes him again, twisting him around with a furious force. “I know you want to help El, but what can you ACTUALLY DO?” He shrugs before he can stop himself. “Rain? Lightning? How does that benefit us—especially in underground tunnels? Plus you’ve had literally zero time for practice. If we don’t slow down and come up with a decent plan, this is tantamount to suicide.”

“We? Seriously, Robin, I…” His teeth clamp his lower lip. Any moment now, he’ll tell her how terrified he is, how he really, really doesn’t want to get tortured again, let alone die; how the idea of anything bad happening to her is as frightening as any of it. “I don’t think I have much choice.”

“Steve,” she says, gentler now, though her grip gouges into his flesh. “It’s screamingly obvious you’re not thinking straight. You’ve been ill for days and now you’re in a funk, beating yourself up over Eddie.”

He yanks himself free, glares. “That doesn’t make any dif—"

“Bullshit! Trust me, however ‘mean boy’ your literary masterpiece got, Eddie won’t want you to do anything this dumb. Oh, and your resident gender-fluid angel saved your life. They’re not gonna want you to sacrifice it pointlessly.”

He opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. He laughs—not a particularly happy laugh, but not totally miserable either. “You win,” he says, kinda sagging with relief. “You got a plan, smarty-pants?”

She laughs with him, equally edgy. “I say we go to Lover’s Lake, wait till it’s dark. If that’s too dangerous, we find some hidden pool where you can practise whatever badass moves you think you got. Hopefully without the puking. It’ll be a bit like Band Camp. But for Magic. Magic Camp. Okay?”

“You really aren’t gonna be happy until I’m a bigger nerd that any of… Shit!”

He’s been considering hugging her. Instead, he seizes her sleeve, dragging her down into a deep, wet gully. They land with a splash, crouching low, close. She doesn’t complain, because she’s heard what he has.

The distant sound of barking dogs. Likely, army search dogs.

“Dog barks travel for miles, huh?” he whispers.

“Possibly.” She sucks in a scared breath. “One thing for sure—those sniffy wet snouts can pick up a human scent from the next county.”

“We’re in a stream, Robin. They can’t pick up our scent here, right?”

She crinkles her nose, dubious. “Dogs’ sense of smell is pretty amazing.”

“Yeah? Let’s hope this bunch caught colds or something.”

He’s now the one clutching her way too tight, and he half-wishes he’d ditched her with a bitchy note too. Though, not quite. She smart; he needs her, and she’s really has gotten him thinking clearer:

“We head for Lover’s Lake. C’mon.”

…

Eddie POV

When the sound of the car engine finally reaches his hearing, Eddie feels almost nothing.

“Don’t move.” Hopper pitches Eddie a forbidding look and grabs El, keeping them low behind the ferns.

An owl hoots. Despite the hollowness in his chest, Eddie silently cracks up. Seriously? Top secret government goons can’t think of a better signal than me and Robin?

Hopper’s grip slides to the firearm at his side. He rises slowly. “Over here.”

Peeping between the foliage, Eddie can make out a limo-style saloon with blacked-out windows. A severe-faced woman in lethal stilettos climbs out. “Chief Hopper, I presume? I apologise for the delay. O’Sullivan’s got men everywhere. We must leave right away.”

Hopper, nevertheless, remains stood well off the road with Eleven, not rushing for the car. And Eddie?

You make me sick.

Steve’s made it simple for him. He should cut his losses and take this chance of escape. Wayne would want him to. Apart from… Eddie literally can’t. What was it that Steve said? Oh yeah. That he was being stretched in the wrong direction. Or something along those lines.

Yeah, I’m feelin’ it, Stevie.

Nothing supernatural, nothing hinky. You kill me that bad, Babe—even after you turned meanie-King-Steve and dumped me. Oh, and went back to goddamn Mordor without me!

Gonna trust you had your reasons, and I’m coming anyway.

He turns on his dirt-clotted heels and flees as fast as he can.

Part 15

...

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 15

#steddie #steve harrington #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #stobin #platonic stobin #stobin friendship

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