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eddiemunsonssoulmate · 2 years

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The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: You and Eddie have some time to spare before D&D starts. It escalates quite quickly.

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, inappropriate use of a D&D table

Available on: AO3

A/N: I’ve fallen down the Eddie hole and I can’t get out. I’m a D&D player myself, so I had to use that poor playing table here.

♣ Eddie Munson Masterlist ♣

It was dark when you entered the cold hallways that lead to the Hellfire Club.

Your club shirt was freshly washed and ready for a long night of Dungeons and Dragons. Or, how other people would say, time for satanic rituals.

A low chuckle left your throat when you thought about it and all those newspapers and magazines talking about it, causing panic for parents. Yours didn’t care, also didn’t know you were playing the game. Otherwise they might care but then again, they were probably too busy.

All they cared about was your family image and “Stay away from Eddie Munson, he’s bad news.”

Thankfully they didn’t know that you were into bad news.

His cologne already covered your senses when you entered the Hellfire Club. Later on it would smell more like sweat and tears in here, depending on what he would throw at the group during the session.

You smiled to yourself when you saw him standing at the table, preparing his Dungeon Master screen with little notes.

“You’re so early,” you said and he looked up at you, a small grin on his lips.

“You know I have to prepare, sweetheart. The Dungeon Master is always early.” Eddie pushed himself away from the desk and walked over you. “Better question is, why are you this early? It’s at least thirty minutes until the others arrive.”

He put his hands on your hips and raised an eyebrow at you. You didn’t even realize you were that early, you just really wanted to see him before the others joined for the night.

Your relationship had been secret for a few months now and so far, no one had seemed to notice. You were just two friends playing that dumb fantasy game with other freaks. At least that's what it looked like to the other students.

No one knew about stolen touches under the lunch table and late nights in his trailer. No one needed to know that. For some reason it felt better that it was just the two of you. Easier.

If your parents knew about your relationship with the ‘School Freak and Drug Dealer’ Eddie Munson, they would try to cut your contact with him. If the other students would know, you would be a freak couple which you didn’t mind but it was just extra hassle right before graduation. Only a couple of months and you were out of here, off to college, mostly free from your parents and you didn’t need to hide anymore.

“I guess I just really wanted to see you,” you said with a shrug and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before taking your jacket off, placing it on your chair where he had already prepared your character sheet.

He turned around and looked after you, a happy grin on his lips. You knew his life wasn’t easy and that you had changed quite a lot for him, yet you would never get used to that happy little grin that was always directed at you.

“Besides,” you started, a little mischievous grin forming on your lips, “I wanted to see what you were up to behind your screen.” You quickly turned on your heels and hurried behind his seat, trying to get a glimpse at his notes.

A huff left his mouth when he started to come after you with quick steps, grabbing your hips and turning you around to face him and not his DM screen.

“That’s not very nice. Wouldn’t want my girlfriend to gain any advantages for the upcoming combat.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You loved when he called you his girlfriend, something he could only do when you two were alone. Gods, you yearned for the day he could say it openly.

“Combat huh? That’s good to know, given we’ve left off far away from any combat situations.” You bit your lips when you heard him groan in frustration.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath and you laughed which seemed to mesmerize him. He always looked at you as you were his sun.

His look then turned into something intense and his eyes darkened slightly, his grip on your hips getting a little tighter. “We still got like twenty five minutes,” you mumbled before swallowing hard, the knot already building in your stomach.

He took a step forward and your backside hit the edge of the table. “Would hate to ruin your prep though,” you quickly added but it was too late.

He already swiped the DM screen off the table, a few notes and papers scattered across the floor with it and within a moment he had placed you on the table before him.

“I’m sure I’ll be a little more merciful during combat tonight if you can convince me to be nice,” Eddie said as he started to kiss your neck, making you lean back a little, opening yourself up to his kisses more.

This was actually the first time you were doing this in here. Normally there wasn’t enough time or Henderson was way too early but tonight it seemed like a good moment.

You certainly thought about it before. Being a Dungeons & Dragons player had just this extra kind of appeal to do it on the playing table.

Goosebumps covered your body when the long haired boy grabbed the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head. It was a little cold down here. For now.

“I’ll warm you up, don’t worry,” he said as if he just read your mind. Your hands were still holding onto his arms covered in his leather jacket, gripping the fabric a little too hard for just some harmless makeout.

You needed him. Badly.

He didn’t lose much time and started to push your bra down on one side, playing with the hard peaks and you weren’t quite sure if they were hard because of the cold or because you were already aroused after so little of his touch.

A soft moan left your throat and your legs wrapped around him almost automatically. He took this as an invitation and laid you down on the table behind you, the cold wood pressing into your back, making it arch. Thankfully he didn’t start to prepare the map and the character minis yet, so they were still safe and sound in their box.

“You’re wearing too much,” you whined and clawed a little more at his leather jacket. His three layers of clothes were always such an annoyance when you tried to get them off on your own.

“As always, sweetheart. As always,” he chuckled and then leaned back to get rid of everything, throwing it somewhere on the ground where he had thrown your shirt too.

You let your hands run over his chest slowly, trying to reach as much skin as possible from your position and then stopping at his pants.

“You sure?” he asked and raised an eyebrow, a hand of his covering both of yours.

He was acting like this was your first time having sex somewhere despite the fact that he had been inside you more times than you could count. And yet, he took the time to ask because it was a different environment and you could change your mind any time.

“Yes, let’s not waste too much time. You know how early Henderson is here sometimes.” Your answer was followed by a little laugh and then he just grinned, letting go of your hands so you could open the button, shoving his pants and underwear down to his ankles. That had to be enough.

Your mouth watered a little when you saw his length already standing at attention, begging for your touch.

One of your hands grabbed his hard cock, pulling slightly and causing him to step back further into you. Your legs wrapped around him once again and his heat radiated against your sensitive center.

He grabbed your wrists and put them at the side of your head, looking into your eyes for a long moment before smirking and then kissing you roughly. You gasped against him which caused him to put his tongue in your mouth, his naked lenght pressing harder against you.

“Eddie, please,” you whined, feeling how the wetness was pooling between your legs in your panties.

“Soon,” he whispered against your ear, “I want you to feel all night long what I did to you, right here.” He bit your earlobe before kissing your neck again, still holding onto your wrists.

Bastard, he was taking his time with you so your panties would be drenched before taking off your clothes, knowing you would feel it during the whole session later on. He loved shit like that.

You did too, if you were honest.

So he was grinding against you and out of pure reflex, you were grinding back against him. He didn’t seem to mind the rougher fabric of your jeans against him as he was busy placing kisses on your nipples and the soft flesh of your breasts, sucking lightly, leaving a bite here and there. One of them would give you a hickey for sure.

You had this rule that there were no visible hickeys allowed or people might start to ask questions. Thankfully, the skin of your breasts right under the edge of the bra weren’t a place that people got to see, so it had turned out to be his favorite spot to leave love marks.

Sweat started to build on your body from the pure torture he put you through, you hated when you couldn’t do anything. You wanted to touch him, to feel him, to have him inside of you but he took his sweet, sweet time.

“Cmon Munson, we really don’t have that much time.” You tried to sound stern, hoping he would finally take your pants off but he just laughed against your skin.

“You’re right, you’re right. Don’t pressure your Dungeon Master,” he mumbled against your belly where his lips had just arrived. “This is a special location to do that shit, so I want to make you feel special.”

Eddie leaned back and started to open your pants, painfully slow and you could have cursed at him. The grin on his lips told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

You unwrapped your legs shortly for him to pull your pants down and you kicked them off one ankle quickly before wrapping them back around him, pulling him closer to you within a heartbeat.

“You look so gorgeous with that blush on your face and your bra in that chaotic position,” he said and chuckled, grabbing your one free breast with his hand while the other one was still mostly covered by your bra. It might have been uncomfortable but all you could think about now was his length between your legs, skin against skin. His cold rings against your heating skin made you shiver even more and you had a hard time swallowing the moan.

You could see precum glistening on it and it seemed that the waiting and teasing had affected him quite a lot.

When you thought he would push inside of you, he surprised you and crouched down a little. He let his tongue glide between your folds and you moaned loudly, not expecting him to do that right now.

“You’re so goddamn wet and taste so good.” He stood back up again and lined himself up against you, licking his wet lips before leaning down and capturing your lips into a kiss. Only a second later you felt him press against you, the tip of his cock pressing against your tight entrance.

It was no trouble for him at all to get inside you with how wet you were. You both moaned against each other's lips when he sunk himself into your wetness. When his full length was completely inside of you, he stilled and pulled away from the kiss, looking into your eyes.

“Fuck, that look,” he mumbled and you felt him twitch inside of you. “I want to, disrespectfully, fuck the shit out of you.”

“Please, go ahead. Show me what you’ve got, Dungeon Master,” you replied to his wish and he growled, placing his hands next to your head so he could support himself. You grabbed his arms, bracing yourself.

Eddie pulled out of you, clenched his jaw for a moment in the process before slamming right back into you.

You had to bite your bottom lip or the moan would have been too loud to be appropriate. No matter how often the two of you had sex, it always felt like a high you would never come down from.

Even in the faint light you could see that he was also blushing now, a faint red covering his cheeks as he started in a slow rhythm. His hair was falling over his shoulders close to your face, tickling you a little.

“Eddie,” you groaned and tried to catch his hips in a faster rhythm, trying to convince him to finish with this teasing.

“What? I don’t think I went in hard enough yet, so could you form a whole sentence?” The smug grin on his face deserved to be punched but there was nothing you could do when he finished his sentence with a rough thrust inside of you, making the table shake.

“Just fuck me already, please. I want you before the others arrive. We need to clean up and-” You didn’t get the chance to get the rest of your sentence out because he started a rougher, faster pace right away, making you choke on the sounds that wanted to leave your throat.

“Gods, I love it when you beg for me,” he whispered and you almost didn’t hear it, the slapping of skin too loud down here, echoing off the walls a little.

You would have protested that you didn’t beg, wanting to somehow throw something back at him but with the way he moved inside of you combined with the look he gave you, there were no words leaving your mouths. They all turned into moans of pleasure.

He took his arms away to grab your hips, trying to get a better hold of you so you weren’t moving so much on the table. If you were honest, you had no idea how the old table was holding up with his pace.

You noticed how he couldn’t focus his eyes on one spot. He was looking down between where you were joined and where the wet noises and skin slapping came from, then he looked at how your breasts bounced up and down, the bra merely an accessory now and then he looked at your face and smiled slightly.

For a moment you wished you could read his mind but that thought was gone within a moment when you felt his cold rings down at the sensitive skin between you.

Eddie rubbed his thumb across your clit and you had to bite your hand to stop yourself from moaning too loud. The others could arrive any moment.

“I’d love to take my time with you,” he sighed and stilled inside of you for a moment, focusing on rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves, causing you to whine in frustration. “But I guess that has to wait until after the session.”

He started moving again while also rubbing your clit, the cold steel of his rings giving another level of pleasure and he moved even faster and harder than before, hitting all the right spots inside of you.

Your legs were clenching so hard around him, your insides were a big knot and your head started spinning with the pleasure running through your whole body.

Eyes closed in bliss, you only heard how he started to pant more, cursing under his breath and his movement got more erratic. He was close but so were you.

You tried to hold out a little longer but another swipe of his thumb caused you to shrudder, back arching which caused him to slip deeper inside of you. The walls of your insides started to spasms around him, coaxing him into an orgasm of his own.

“Fuck,” was the only thing you heard from him when you felt him come inside you, his warm seed covering your insides.

Eddie slumped forward a little, his hands grabbing yours and placing them back besides your head. He looked at you with a lazy smile, drops of sweat on his forehead.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look after you have an orgasm?” he asked and you laughed.

“Yes, about every time I have one,” you replied and he leaned his head to the side a little.

“Really? I don’t remember hearing it that much from you, I think you don’t have enough orgasms.” You were about to reply to him but then he moved his hips, his tip stroking against that sweet spot inside of you once more.

The young man put his forehead against yours and both of you rested like this for a moment.

It was really only a short moment before you heard the telltale sound of the door and a loud “HELLFIRE!” that sounded like it came from Henderson.

A couple of seconds passed before you realized what was going on.

“Shit,” he groaned and slipped out of you, almost tripping over the pants that were hanging on his ankles.

A moment of panic overcame you as you were sitting up straight but he stopped you, cupping your hot center with his hand.

“I told you, I want you to feel it all night long,” he whispered as he was pulling your panties up, replacing his hand with them.

“I-” you started but he already had his lips back on yours, swallowing any protest. His cum would stay inside of you for the whole session.

You heard footsteps and he quickly pulled his pants up while moved off the table and got your pants back in place.

Eddie threw you your Hellfire Club t-shirt and pulled his own over his head too, placing his jackets on his chair.

Both of you quickly hurried to get the things you threw onto the ground while the footsteps grew louder. You winced with every movement you did, panties full with his cum and your own wetness, making you even more wet.

His eyes were on you, watching you and you threw him a look that was a combination of annoyance and lust. He just chuckled and winked at you, trying to get up his DM screen once more.

“Hey guys!” Dustin said as he was entering, followed by Mike and Lucas.

“Welcome!” Eddie replied with a great gesture of his hands.

“Hi.” You waved at them, hoping your hair looked fine and your blush was gone from your face.

The three kids were taking their seats and you lifted your character sheet up from the floor, placing it back on the table.

Just looking at that piece of wood made you blush a little but thankfully it was dark enough here so no one should notice.

“Did you wash your shirt too hot?” Mike suddenly asked and looked at Eddie. He raised an eyebrow and that’s when you saw it.

It was fitting really tightly around him. Too tightly.

Meanwhile your own shirt was hanging a little too loosely from your body. Fuck.

“Yeah, that must be it. I’ve been wondering why it was like that, I’m not good with laundry,” he said with a nonchalant shrug before he looked at you.

It was barely noticeable but his jaw clenched and that little vein on his neck started to show.

His look told you he would gladly take that shirt back later.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #reposting with the hopes it shows up in the tags

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cryptotheism · 1 year

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THE GRIFTER LIFE CYCLE:

Grifter Nebula - Grifter is young, plucky, full of Idealogical zeal and original ideas. They understand the modern media landscape, and see a gap.

Grifter Star - Grifter successfully gathers enough social capital to form a self-sustaining media presence. They no longer need to scrounge for listeners/followers/readers. They've found a niche and they can stick to it, but there's work to be done. They make enough money to be comfortable, but not enough that their decisions are entirely driven by profit.

Grifter Giant - A breakthrough. The grifter successfully enters the mainstream. Viral success, a radio show, a pastorship at a church, a memeable interview on FOX has brought a massive, massive audience to the grifter. The grifter now has real social power. The things the grifter says have a real chance of influencing actual political policy.

Grifter Planetary Nebula - A rare stage, not every grifter achieves this state. Most skip directly to the break point. Here, the grifter IS the discourse. This is Rush Limbaugh at the height of his career, Alex Jones just post 9/11, every preacher at the height of the satanic panic. Politicians pray at your altar. They come to YOU, not the other way around. Not just the fringe weirdos either. Actual, respectable people have to factor you in. Ends when the grifter dies of lung cancer at 75.

BREAK POINT - CHOSE A PATH:

Grifter Black Hole - After years of dominating the grifting narrative, copycats emerge. The grifter begins to drown in a media landscape chock full of modern impressions of their schtick. The grifter loses relevance among the sleek, exciting, copycats, and is forced to say increasingly insane shit to stay relevant. Associating with the grifter at this point COSTS social capital, and usually isn't worth it.

Grifter White Dwarf - Grifter quietly fades into obscurity. She took everything in the divorce, and your expenses are pretty modest. The grifter can get buy on the core audience they built up over the years, slowly drinking themselves to death as they podcast from the Florida suburbs. Nobody calls you, and you don't call anyone.

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devildomwriter · 3 months

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Ain’t No Mountain High Enough | Mammon x Reader

3.4K Words | GN! Reader | CW: mentions of sickness, some suggestiveness | Romance/Humor

When your common cold turns out to be something much more dangerous Mammon rushes into lava-flooded land to find what he believes is your only chance at making it out alive.

Another cough echoed through the house and Mammon flinched. He clicked his tongue in annoyance but Lucifer knew he was only worried.

“They’re still sick?” He asked for the millionth time that day. Lucifer sighed, tired of hearing the same question every few minutes, and nodded.

“Mammon, for the last time—“ he began but his office door swinging open cut him short.

“Lucifer,” Diavolo exclaimed making the two brothers jump.

“Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer asked, unprepared for his sudden entrance.

“I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news—“ his words were cut short by another gaggle of hacks and coughs from the other side of the house.

“That’s, ___, isn’t it?” He asked, brows furrowed in distress.

“Yes. Their cold hasn’t gone away,” Lucifer confirmed and Diavolo shook his head as Barbatos entered the room, equally concerned.

“That’s why I’m here, actually,” Diavolo frowned and Barbatos stepped up to explain in his place, seeing how upset Diavolo was.

“It’s not a cold.” He stated and Mammon jumped to his feet.

“Huh? What is it then?”

“If you’d let me explain,” Barbatos scowled but in his panic, Mammon wasn’t phased.

Lucifer clenched his jaw anxiously and Barbatos continued. “It’s the Hell-Magma Virus.”

“The what?” Mammon interrupted again and this time Lucifer glared at him too and yelled at him to quiet down.

“The recent volcanic eruptions in the third layer have released a slew of ancient viruses. This one is akin to the common cold and relatively easy for a demon to recover from, however—“

Another cacophony erupted from your room as you coughed and cleared your throat continuously. You struggled just to clear your airways from the drainage so you could breathe.

Leviathan cautiously walked into the office while Satan strode in as if he belonged there. He walked up to Diavolo and demanded answers as he’d been eavesdropping.

“You’re not even gonna hide the fact you were listenin’ in?” Mammon scoffed and Satan rolled his eyes.

“As if you wouldn’t do the same.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different—“

“Mammon shut up!” Lucifer scolded.

“Why only me?” Mammon yelped.

“Quiet!” Satan, Lucifer, and Leviathan yelled simultaneously.

Barbatos shook his head at their quarrel and continued. “The medication we’ve acquired was made from flowers at the bottom of the volcano before the lava burned what was left. We don’t have a strong enough variation of this medication to cure ___.”

“So, we’ll call for Simeon,” Lucifer suggested but Diavolo shook his head.

“This virus…it’s more of a curse, there’s only so much Simeon can do. This curse which acts as a contagious virus will continue for at least twenty days. The medication for demons should clear up their symptoms in three days but for ___ that will be too late. The effects they are experiencing now will worsen until their saliva bubbles and the accumulating mucus in their throat becomes hot enough to burn through their lungs—“

“Aaaah! I don’t wanna hear it!” Mammon cut him off. “Just tell us how to fix it!” Rather than scold him, his brothers agreed and they looked pointedly at Diavolo and Barbatos.

“Well, we’re working on a medication now with aid from our magic but it would be beneficial for us to have more of the magma-glories to work with.”

“Right, got it! Where are they!?” Mammon exclaimed, ready to run.

“Hold on, Mammon,” Lucifer warned.

“There should be more in the fourth layer. However, it’s too dangerous to teleport there as we can’t be sure the lava hasn’t spread anywhere we attempt to land.” Barbatos explained.

“Flying isn’t an option either. The plume of smoke and ash will make it impossible to see or breathe,” Diavolo continued.

Lucifer clenched his fist, “Then I’ll figure something out,” he growled and Diavolo nodded.

“Right, why don’t we call Solomon,” Satan advised and they agreed. All except for Mammon who was already out the door.

“Where did Mammon go?” Lucifer asked, already knowing the answer.

“That idiot…” Leviathan mumbled.

Leviathan left to tell his brothers what was happening and they rushed to your bedside as their older brothers and wiser friends discussed what to do.

You continued coughing and groaned in agony. You felt like you were choking and not even Simeon’s and Luke’s angelic powers could cure it; they could only keep it at bay enough to let you lay down again without suffocating.

You saw their worried expressions and knew something was different, it wasn’t just a cold.

“So—“ you croaked. “Wh-ats, hap-ppen–ing?” You struggled to speak as your throat scratched with every word.

“Well…” Asmodeus bit his lip and looked away and Levi looked at the ground while Beelzebub stayed silent.

You could only wonder what was threatening your life this time around. Tuesday was the last time you nearly died, it was Saturday, and you’d gotten sick Wednesday. That didn’t take long at all, did it…

“Well…” Belphegor tried to explain when Solomon burst through the door to your room.

“Eek! Solomon, give us some warning!” Asmodeus cried out. Solomon ignored him and instead rushed to your side.

“My poor apprentice,” Solomon cooed sadly, but then he grinned and held up a glowing purple vial.

“N-o!” You choked.

“It’s not food,” Satan explained walking in with Diavolo, Lucifer, and Barbatos. You sighed in relief and Solomon frowned.

“I could make you some soup though—“

“There’s no time for that nonsense,” Lucifer hissed and the sorcerer sighed and fed you the potion.

“What is that?” Leviathan asked and Lucifer sighed, more relaxed than he had been.

“It’s the cure. Solomon made it the last time it went around in the Devildom, just in case he could catch it. He didn’t…so he still has it and now it’s very potent due to the amount of time.”

“Wow, really?” Asmodeus gasped. “How long has that been?”

“Hey, there! There’s no need to go explaining my age to them,” Solomon waved, silencing him in an instant. Solomon turned back to you in bed and ignored the question.

Your sickly pale, pasty skin, ten shades lighter than usual began regaining its normal color. Almost immediately you felt the strength to sit up, but as soon as you did, the nausea came in full force. You bent over the trash can, vomiting what seemed like an eternal river of mucus that burnt through the trash can.

“Eek!” Asmodeus screamed in fear and disgust and the brothers looked away uneasy.

Solomon was shocked, “it’s already gotten so bad?”

Barbatos shook his head amazed, “I see. Thankfully ___ is significantly stronger with their pacts and the help of Luke, Simeon, and Raphael.”

“Yes. Thirteen was keeping an eye on their candle too,” Solomon informed.

“That’s cause she wants ___’s soul.” Belphegor chided.

“That’s true, but she doesn’t want it right now,” Solomon argued for Thirteen’s sake. Thirteen wanted your soul as much as anyone but more than that she wanted to enjoy your presence and life much longer.

You rubbed the crust from your eyes and Beelzebub gave you a wet rag to wipe your mouth as Belphegor pulled your hair back.

“Hey…where’s Mammon?” You inquired and everyone looked at each other.

“Oh…somewhere in the fourth layer surrounded by active volcanoes,” Satan said nonchalantly.

You spit out the water Asmodeus had just handed you and he shrieked and wiped his face off.

“What do you mean!?” You demanded.

“Well you see, before we got in contact with Solomon, our options were to experiment with lesser medications we had or to create more potent ones.” Barbatos explained, “We needed a special flower for that, so Mammon ran off to get it.”

“Active volcanoes? He slips down the stairs at least once a week why in the three worlds did you let him go alone!?” You panicked and Lucifer looked guilty.

“He’ll be back when it gets too hard,” Leviathan clucked and you shook your head.

“No, he won’t! It’s Mammon we’re talking about!”

“Exactly,” Belphegor sneered.

You shook your head and glared, “Right! So you should know that when it comes to me Mammon will do literally anything.”

They all fell silent as they thought it over and realized you were right.

“Oh…so he’s probably,” Leviathan muttered.

“At the volcanoes…” Beelzebub worried, frowning.

“Ugh…” Belphegor sighed but was the first to speak up, “Let’s go get our idiot brother.”

Everyone nodded, “Right.”

They began to shuffle out the door but you stopped them before they could leave.

“Wait! One thing!”

“Yeah?” Leviathan asked, worriedly.

“All of you need to promise me—no—you must obey me when I tell you—do not let Mammon know you cured me.”

The six brothers immediately nodded, subjected to your power, but Solomon looked puzzled. “Oh, and why not?”

You frowned, “because…I want Mammon to think he saved me. He tries really hard and…”

“Falls flat?” Satan huffed.

“Fails?” Leviathan stated.

“Disappoints us every time,” Lucifer grimaced.

“He tries?” Asmodeus questioned.

“Enough!” You barked. “Mammon tries really hard and I want him to think he saved my life. Especially because if you didn’t conveniently have this vial, Solomon, Mammon was the first one out that door ready to brave flowing lava and poisonous smoke for me!”

“Poisonous?” Belphegor asked.

“How poisonous…” Beelzebub gulped.

“Uh…well I’m not a volcanologist, as cool as that would be, but…” You looked at Barbatos for help.

“Human world volcanoes release ash that can be detrimental to health when inhaled, even having long-term effects,” he began. “The volcanoes also release carbon dioxide which is deadly when exposed to for too long. Here in the Devildom, it’s the same but at more lethal levels. A high-level demon like Mammon should be fine if he inhaled some but…”

“But he’s probably panicking and running around like a moron looking for the flowers,” Lucifer sighed.

“Well, hurry and get him, he might be passed out on a rock somewhere!?” You ordered and they immediately left.

Simeon, Raphael, and Luke stayed behind to monitor you. Thirteen showed up an hour later when she was sure your life candle was stable.

“Which button do I press if there’s an emergency…?” Simeon asked and angled his phone for Luke to look at it.

“The green one! It’s always the green one!” Luke barked, upset he still had to explain these things to Simeon.

“At this point, he’s got to be messing with you,” Thirteen remarked and walked to your bedside, sitting next to you.

You could tell she had been stressed and you squeezed her hand. She blushed and took it away, “huh? What was that for?” She asked and you laughed at her cute response.

“Thank you,” you said and she turned a deeper shade of pink.

“You mean for looking after your candle? Obviously, I’m not just gonna let you die, you’re way too entertaining.”

You chuckled, “Okay. Sure.”

“What do you mean, sure?” She demanded but Simeon’s phone began ringing.

“The green one?” He asked.

“Yes!” Luke threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.

“Calm down Luke, it’s okay,” Raphael patted his shoulder and Luke crossed his arms and huffed as Simeon held the phone out for everyone to hear.

“The speaker, Simeon,” Thirteen reminded.

Simeon instantly looked confused so Raphael hit the button for him.

“Can you repeat that,” Luke asked.

“We found him,” Satan’s voice sounded over the speaker.

Your shoulders relaxed and you let out a deep sigh, relieved your precious but often stupid demon hadn’t gotten himself killed while running around.

“He didn’t even know what the flower looked like!” Leviathan shouted into the phone and Satan scolded him for being so loud.

“And?” Raphael prodded.

“He found it anyway…” Satan mumbled, seemingly not wanting to admit it.

“Wow, really!?” Luke exclaimed and Raphael looked similarly surprised.

“You were right, ___.” Simeon smiled at you knowingly and you blushed.

“How is he doing?” You asked loudly until Luke finally handed you the phone.

“He’s unconscious. As soon as he saw us he passed out.”

“From fear?” Raphael questioned disgruntled.

“IDK, probably relief. Looks like he was trying to call us.” Leviathan responded and you frowned.

“There’s no fucking signal out here what’d he expect?” Belphegor complained.

“Then how are you calling?”

“Solomon has a spell for everything,” Leviathan responded. “Anyway, we’re teleporting back home now, clear the area in your room.”

“My room—“

“Hurry,” Raphael warned and picked up Luke, jumping away to the edge of your room as Simeon and Thirteen scrambled to jump on your bed.

With a puff of smoke the brothers, Barbatos, Diavolo, and Mephistopheles appeared in the room covered in ash.

Mephistopheles started coughing and wiping the ash off himself as much as he could.

“Oh, hey, Mephisto,” you commented, unaware he’d been part of the crew.

“Likewise,” he grumbled, unhappy with his present state.

“Yeah, we found him too,” Belphegor chuckled and Mephistopheles blushed.

“I would’ve been just fine for your information,” he insisted.

“You didn’t even realize you were surrounded by lava you were so busy taking pictures of it,” Satan argued and the purple-haired demon stiffened up and blushed.

“Mephistopheles, please take better care of yourself. It may be a historically large eruption, but still,” Diavolo worried and Mephistopheles straightened up and bowed, offering a strew of apologies as Diavolo awkwardly accepted them.

Lucifer had Mammon slung over his shoulder and you got up from your bed. Your legs were shaky from all the time you’d spent there and Simeon caught your arm and helped you stand up properly.

“Lie back down, he’s fine,” Lucifer ordered but you ignored him and pointed to your vacated bed.

“Lay him down,” you demanded and Lucifer rolled his eyes and unloaded Mammon.

“Great, now your clean bed has ash everywhere,” Asmodeus pouted. He’d been the one trying to keep the room clean for you during your sick days.

You snapped your fingers and whispered under your breath and the ashes shone brightly and vanished into the air. Luke gasped and Asmodeus’s eyes shone as he watched its brief glow.

“Wow, it’s all gone,” Luke exclaimed.

Mephistopheles nodded and thanked you, as he wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more dirt on himself.

Mephistopheles left, still embarrassed, and Diavolo waved Barbatos and the others from the room. Lucifer ordered his brothers to follow and left you with Mammon passed out on your bed face-down.

Before Satan shut the door behind him you made a zipping motion across your lips, “Remember.” You said and he nodded and repeated the motion before closing the door.

You sighed and smiled.

You looked at the demon snoring in bed and rolled him onto his back.

“That can’t be very comfortable…” you said to yourself and with a bit of magical assistance you removed his coat and took off his sunglasses and shoes.

You drew the comforter over him and crawled onto the other side against the wall, waiting for him to wake up.

Mammon was sound asleep for a long time. Asmodeus brought you food and you played on your phone as you waited. Finally, as the sky reached its darkest hour, Mammon’s nose twitched and he began to softly mumble.

Your name poured softly from his lips and you watched him in adoration. Mammon has always been your favorite even when he wasn’t on his best behavior but today you both proved to everyone else that Mammon could be serious and trustworthy. When it came to you, there was no mountain Mammon wouldn’t climb, no sea he wouldn’t swim across, no hell he wouldn’t face…all for you.

You gently planted a kiss on his lips and his mouth twitched. Slowly Mammon’s eyes opened and his vision cleared up. He sat upright and began coughing, “Oh shit! ___! ___’s flower— I-!”

You threw your arms around him, bringing him back to the present, and as Mammon’s heart slowed he realized where he was. He felt your arms around him and immediately held you close to his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and you felt your shirt dampen as he silently cried in relief.

“Y-you’re okay?” He asked.

You nodded, “Thank you Mammon.”

“Thanks? Did—did I do it?”

You nodded and he hugged you tighter, “Thank goodness… thank goodness!” He exclaimed and began laughing as a weight lifted from his chest.

“Don’t worry! What’d I tell ya, Mammon’s got your back!”

You nodded and laughed still hugging him tightly.

“Forever, right?” You asked and he pulled back looking surprised.

“Of course, forever. Did ya ever doubt me?”

“Not even for a second,” you beamed and his eyes sparkled as you leaned in and kissed his lips.

Grinning, Mammon grabbed your hips and moved you closer to him, positioning you on his waist. He moaned softly as he deepened the kiss between you both. He flicked his tongue across your bottom lip asking for permission. You smirked playfully and parted your lips for him. He growled in excitement and began exploring. He grabbed the back of your head with one hand to pull you in as close as he could and when that wasn’t enough he flipped you onto your back and leaned over you.

Mammon explored your mouth with his tongue excitedly until you patted his back, signaling you needed to breathe. Mammon parted unwillingly, a string of saliva still connecting your lips as you panted heavily. You both laughed excitedly to yourselves and Mammon adjusted himself over you, slinking one hand beneath your shirt.

You moaned into his kiss when suddenly the door burst open, nearly flying off the hinges.

“Oh good, I thought you might be awake,” Satan said in a painfully fake cheerful voice.

“Shit! What the hell man, give us a minute will ya?” Mammon shouted annoyed and angry.

“Really, a minute? That’s all?” Asmodeus strode into the room and shook his head. “Poor ___.”

“Wh-hey! Y’know that’s not what I meant!” Mammon protested.

“Enough shouting,” Lucifer hissed as he joined his brothers in your room.

Your face turned red and Mammon finally swung his leg over the bed and got off of you. His hand still lingered on your slightly exposed stomach. He didn’t intend to leave without seeing more of you that night.

His brothers knew this and they had every intention to stop it.

“You guys—“ Mammon tried to protest.

“Is he awake?” Luke asked nearing the room.

“Ah, shit,” Mammon mumbled and you both straightened out your clothes and sat up straight as Luke walked in holding a small cake.

“I made an Angel Cloud cake! For your recovery!” Luke smiled excitedly and handed it to you.

“Ah sweet, looks good,” Mammon commented and from behind Lucifer, Beelzebub nodded slowly, drool running down his chin.

“Let’s split it,” you said turning to Mammon.

His eyes lit up. “Really?” You nodded and fed him a piece from your fork.

“Wh-huh?” Luke blurted in surprise at the affectionate display.

“Okay Luke, they liked your cake, see? Let’s go back home now shall we?” Simeon suggested and pulled Luke out of the room.

“Hey—wait!” Luke protested, but it was too late.

Raphael glared at Mammon and Mammon hid behind you in fear but disguised this as hugging you from behind.

Volcanoes were nothing but a glare from Raphael had him using you as a shield. He was incorrigible. But he was yours and that would never change.

After an hour of banter and talking between you and the brothers they finally left. Each gave Mammon a steely look before leaving and when Satan left last, he slammed the door shut, well aware of Mammon’s intentions.

Mammon ran to the door to lock it and sighed in relief that you were finally alone again.

He turned around to look back at you and grinned playfully, “So…still up for some fun?” He suggested and you laughed and nodded.

“With you? Always.”

Mammon did not separate from you until the early hours of the following morning, and after his actions that day you spent most of your nights this way.

Mammon would eventually find out that Solomon’s vial had saved you but he successfully “redeemed” himself when the vial turned out to be deadly too and another cure was needed. Solomon was kicked to the doghouse again, and Mammon, without too much complaint from his brothers, deservedly got you to himself once again.

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bloomries · 3 months

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be my valentine!

includes : the demon brothers (lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, and belphegor).

summary : it's valentine's day, how will you spend it with your beloved?

warnings : gn! reader, food mention, valentines is my absolute faaaavorite holiday i love love and hearts and pink and chocolate~

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Lucifer

Loves the classics~ gets you a giant bouquet of red roses and has made a special, private reservation just for you two.

Today is really just an excuse to spoil you, Lucifer is secretly happy he gets to do so! Even though he claims Valentine's Day is a little silly, he doesn't miss his chance to celebrate it.

Very romantic and sincere and sweet, ugh, he's perfect~

Taking your hand in his, his thumb gently rubs against your wrist as he smiles at you. "Thank you," He says, a softness in his tone that puts you on edge— it's not often he lets down his walls to be so vulnerable. "For staying with me, and putting up with those idiots... I love you."

"I love you, too." And Lucifer certainly wouldn't mind if you leaned across the table to meet him in a sweet kiss.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Mammon

Stayed up all night to try and make you chocolates but somehow failed— however its very last minute and he can't run out so this is what you're getting!

He's actually super nervous about it, getting bashful as he hands you the chocolates.

"If ya don't like 'em you can just throw 'em out," Mammon says, clearing his throat as he avoids eye contact. Burnt chocolates mixed up in a bag, the molds not holding together well and crumbling but you didn't have the heart to throw them away, so stealing yourself, you grab a chocolate and eat it.

"It's delicious!" You cheer, and although you're clearly lying through your teeth, Mammon appreciates it nonetheless.

"I- I'll get you some real chocolates next time."

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Leviathan

Sends you a bunch of those valentine meme cards/posts and a lot of 'this is us' with cuddling cats and such.

Braves the outside world in order to take you out on a date— to the arcade of course, where he wins you a bunch of plushies!

Panics when he realizes he hadn't asked you to be his valentine.

"And then I-" Levi cuts himself off mid sentence as he stares at the mirror backing of the claw machine. Today is Valentines Day, and he's just realized he hadn't asked you to be his valentines yet. Pathetically, he turns to you, eyes glistening a little.

"H- Hey, you'll be my valentine's right?"

You have to hold back a laugh, unless you want him to start balling in the middle of the arcade. Accept his request quickly now so that you two can continue your lovely date.

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Satan

Plans a scavenger hunt from the moment you wake up. It leads you to several locations in the house that hold some sort of present before leading to him in the kitchen, where he's made your favorite breakfast.

He's wearing one of those cheesy 'kiss the cook' aprons, and you happily oblige.

"There you are." You coo, entering the kitchen. He curses under his breath, turning around to greet you with a smile— you solved his riddles much faster than he thought, but this fact also makes him proud.

"I made your favorite." He grins, plating your food and then his. You pick at it, sneaking a bite before it can reach the table. He chuckles, sitting down beside you.

"Eat up, because there's another riddle under your food."

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Asmodeus

Romcom marathon! Asmodeus has already set you out a matching loungewear set (it matches his) and a bowl of popcorn and candy and some drinks.

Cuddling all day and flirting in between movies- Is there any better way to spend the day?

Tuffs of champagne hair tickle your neck and Asmo wiggles about to try and get comfy again. Your fingers grazing against his arm softly and sending goosebumps down his spine. He sent a glance up at you, a smirk forming.

"Are you trying to get something more than a movie out of this, hmm?" He asks, leaning up to meet your lips in a kiss. "Not that I'm complaining..."

"Uh-huh," You lean in to kiss him again, only to tease him by placing a candy in your mouth. "Pay attention, you're going to miss your favorite part."

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Beelzebub

Almost forgot it was Valentines, and gets flustered when he remembers. He's not the most romantic, but he wants to do something for you.

Decides to make you breakfast in bed, although by the time it gets to you...

"Well, at least you didn't eat my favorite part?" You try to calm him down, taking the food and taking a few bites. Delicious. He sighs, rubbing his arm as he looks at the ground. "I'm not that hungry right now, you want the rest?"

Dejectedly, he takes it and devours it. Then he perks up as he gets an idea.

"How about we go out? That place you wanted to try opened up downtown just last week."

"Sounds perfect."

꒰ ✿ ꒱ ─── Belphegor

Teases you for celebrating the cheesy holiday.

Might cave in and get you flowers and a simple box of chocolate, don't mention it, okay?

Is he blushing? Yes, yes he is.

"Oh? I thought the holiday was a waste of money and time, a corny holiday invented by capitalist?" Belphegor rolls his eyes at your words. You sure know how to irk him, don't you? But he loves that about you too.

"Yeah, yeah, if you don't want 'em, I'll just give 'em to Beel."

"Nope, they're mine." You coo as you snatch the bouquet and chocolates. "Thank you, Belphie. I got you a little something too." Well he certainly won't deny a gift from you~

꒰ ❀ ꒱ thank you for reading. have a wonderful valentine's day, darling!

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #om x reader #om imagines #om headcanons #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #beelzebub x reader #belphegor x reader

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metalhoops · 1 year

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Corroded Coffin didn’t ‘do’ love songs.

It wasn’t some unwritten rule or unspoken theory that they were too ‘cool’ for love songs. Hell, metal ballads were a whole subgenre. Even W.A.S.P. had a love song.

It was just that in their three years as a band, they’d never written a single love song. If Corroded Coffin had a lyricist, it was Eddie. It wasn’t as though other members hadn’t tried their hand at writing. Gareth and Jeff had written a handful of songs between them, as well as helped Eddie polish a couple of verses. Grant had even written a chorus, but generally, the lyrics of a Corroded Coffin song were, first and foremost, Eddie’s brainchild.

The closest they’d ever gotten to writing a love song was ‘Killer Konnection’, and that was all Jeff. Though it was more about lust than love. So you could imagine the boys' shock when Eddie showed up to band practice and played them a love song.

It was unlike any of their other material. Since Eddie disappeared back in March after being framed for a series of murders, the songs he’d written had changed. That hadn’t surprised the boys. Being proverbially run out of town with pitchforks could really change a guy’s view of the world. He pulled out some killer prose about red skies filled with bats and dark wizards out for deathly revenge. But they’d never heard Eddie write anything like the song he played for them that morning. He hadn’t even named it. Though Gareth caught a glimpse in Eddie’s notebook and saw it was going by the tentative title of ‘S’. A mysterious name for a mysterious song.

Sure, ‘S’ had all the hallmarks of a Corroded Coffin song. It had the killer beat spurred on by the anxiety-inducing pounding drumbeat and base, accompanied by thrashing guitars and raw vocals, but the lyrics? Downright Robert Smith or Morrissey vibes. Maybe ‘love song’ was too harsh. Really, it was a song about longing. Even the guitar chords appeared to ache under the weight of the song.

The song left the three other members of Corroded Coffin asking one question. What the hell happened with Eddie? They’d known Eddie was gay since before they’d become a band. It wasn’t like the boys were the type for adhering to societal conventions anyway.

It’d be another year before Gareth decided he didn’t particularly have any preference as to who he fell in love with, and Grant? He decided he’d rather play D&D and work on creating his own tabletop RPG than date anyone, anytime soon. Thank you very much. Jeff was the token straight friend, though he did like wearing eyeliner and painting his nails, so people thought what they would.

They knew Eddie had dated guys — maybe ‘dated’ was too strong a word. They knew Eddie had hooked up with guys but none of them had inspired such a response. They made it their mission to work out who the hell ‘S’ was about, and maybe try to knock some sense into him. Eddie’s song sounded so damn heartbreaking. They were his best friends. They had to do something.

It wasn’t until their next Hellfire session that all the pieces fell into place. Since Hawkins burst of Satanic Panic, D&D at the high school was no longer an option, so they’d been couch surfing across different members’ houses. How they ended up at the Harringtons’ the Corroded Coffin boys would never know. They knew Dustin and the younger kids were friends with the guy, but since he’d gotten off the hook for the town murders, Eddie and Steve had gotten close.

The men had eyes. It was clear to see by the way Eddie’s focus honed in on Steve the second he entered the room, the guy was equal parts smitten and grief-stricken. It was also painfully apparent Steve was oblivious. Not Eddie falling for a straight guy, again. That always ended poorly.

Yet there were moments, the boys questioned how one-sided the affair was. Gareth noticed the way Steve went straight to Eddie after the session was over. He asked about the game. He knew Harrington didn’t give two shits about D&D but he listened attentively, nodding his head and narrowing his eyes as though in deep concentration as Eddie spoke. Weird.

He was also nice to the Corroded Coffin boys. Uncharacteristically nice. Harrington got a little snarky with the kids. He’d make jabs about them making sure to use coasters or get their feet off the coffee table, but the Corroded Coffin boys? It was nothing but small talk and platitudes, as though he was trying particularly hard to be nice and non-offensive. Why would Harrington care what they thought?

Eddie was always the last to arrive at rehearsals, which left plenty of time for the men to discuss. One pressing question: was Steve actually queer? Gareth said yes, Jeff said no and Grant wanted to be excluded from the conversation. The next, had anything actually happened between Eddie and Steve? After going through ‘S’s lyrics with a fine-toothed comb, they all agreed on ‘maybe’. Which was less than helpful. The boys weren’t usually the type for meddling but Eddie had been downright mopey all month. They needed to do something.

Gareth took one for the team at the next Hellfire session held at the Harringtons’. They’d been playing for three hours straight and were taking a well-deserved break. The kids were eating lunch while Eddie was smoking out back near Steve’s pool. Harrington was cleaning plates in the kitchen, so Gareth offered to help. He’d never been subtle, so he began the conversation with a sentence that seemed to hit Steve, much like a sledgehammer to the face.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Steve looked at Gareth wide-eyed, all deer in headlights, dull doe eyes. Gareth didn’t understand Eddie’s seemingly deep and aching love for the guy, but he was easy enough on the eyes.

“No. Not currently,” Steve fumbled.

“Oh. Okay cool.” Gareth paused for too long. He should’ve had a better plan than just ‘talk to Steve’.

“Do you want one?”

“A girlfriend?” Steve clarified, still looking both alarmed and dumbfounded.

“A friend. Who doesn’t happen to have to be a girl,” Gareth circumnavigated. People said Harrington was dumb, but the guy appeared to catch onto what he was implying too quickly for an entirely straight ex-jock.

“I-uh. I don’t know you that well,” Steve mumbled, his eyes suddenly glued to the dishes in the sink.

Holy fucking shit, Steve Harrington thought he was asking him out. Nope. NO. Abort. Gareth needed to crawl into a deep, dark hole for the foreseeable future. He had no clue what he’d said to Steve. He just got himself the hell out of there. Steve spent the rest of the session being annoyingly nice to him, without mentioning the awkward moment in the kitchen. Gareth spent the time wanting to crawl inside himself and puke. Eddie was going to be so mad if he ever found out.

With all his inner turmoil, it wasn’t until he left the Harringtons’ that he realised, Steve hadn’t turned Gareth down because he was a guy. He’d turned him down because they didn’t know each other. Holy shit. There was hope.

At the next rehearsal, he managed to sway the other band members into believing that despite their (and likely Eddie’s) assumptions, Steve Harrington wasn’t as ‘totally straight, off limits’ as they’d assumed. It was Jeff’s turn to have a plan. He kept the other members in the dark, besides his exclamation of ‘I have a plan’. By the time the plan came to fruition, it’d sunk into the back of the band members’ collective subconscious.

The band was playing at The Hideout and Jeff insisted they change their setlist to include ‘S’. There wasn’t much argument. When it was time to play the song, Jeff quickly introduced it, dedicating it to ‘someone special in the crowd’. It was then that the other Corroded Coffin boys were suddenly on hyper-alert, searching the crowd for whatever poor girl Jeff had decided to fall for, when all three sets of unassuming eyes found the familiar face of Steve Harrington lingering in the back booth. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst their regulars.

Eddie looked ready to puke or run but the boys quickly counted him in, and they were off to the races. Eddie couldn’t resist a catchy hook. Once the setlist was over, Eddie remained hiding backstage, pacing and looking ready to actually commit a string of murders while muttering ‘what the fuck did you do?’ whether to himself or the rest of the band, they didn’t know.

Eventually, a familiar figure appeared at the backstage door. Steve knocked tentatively before peeking in. He gave an awkward half-hearted wave to the other members before making a beeline for Eddie.

“I got your note,” Steve said, the note all band members were now sure Jeff had somehow engineered.

“I liked the song, it was kind of sad though...” Steve muttered, gazing down at his shoes: dentist’s teeth fresh, white reeboks. Who wore reeboks to a metal show at a bar?

Much to the dismay of the other Corroded Coffin members, Grant chose that moment to get involved. He ushered Gareth and Jeff out to the front of house, out of earshot. Leaving Steve and Eddie to have their conversation in private.

The next week, Eddie arrived at rehearsals early, with Steve Harrington and a new, real Corroded Coffin love song in tow.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fictlet #drabble #steddie drabble #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #outsider pov baby #everyone is a disaster #stranger things 4 #stranger things au

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creature-wizard · 7 months

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What is the New Age to Alt Right Pipeline, and how do you stay out of it?

The term "New Age to Alt Right pipeline" refers to the way alternative spirituality and healthcare often serves as an entry point to far right radicalization. While many people are dismissive that such a thing could even exist, plenty of people in occult and witchcraft communities can confirm that it is very much a real thing. Having studied far right conspiracies myself for awhile now, I can personally confirm that a number of people involved in alternative spirituality, including ones who consider themselves progressive, are spouting off the very same conspiracy theories used to justify persecution of the Jews throughout the Middle Ages to the Nazi regime.

Even if you don't reckon yourself a New Ager, you are still likely to come across this stuff because there's no hard and fast place where New Age ends and witchcraft, neopaganism, or whatever begins. While the core and arguably most defining belief of New Age is that the Earth is on the cusp of entering a new cosmic cycle, there's a significant amount of overlap between things New Agers are into, and things that other people are into.

For example, someone interested in Wicca might start researching the Goddess, and from there very quickly encounter conspiracy theories claiming that everyone was monotheistic for the Great Goddess back before The Patriarchy Tee Em invented a male god for people to be monotheist for. From there, it's just a short matter of time before they start coming across materials claiming that the Jews are responsible for the creation of this god, and also responsible for the Catholic Church, and so on. (Pro tip, the Roman government was responsible for the Catholic Church.)

The best way to keep yourself safe from this isn't to simply avoid all material that might potentially contain far right ideas and conspiracy theories. Rather, it's to learn what they look like. Here's a few things to watch out for:

The grand conspiracy narrative: The exact details you'll hear will vary depending on who you're listening to - every conspiracy theorist tailors and re-tailors the grand conspiracy narrative to suit their own agendas and beliefs. The key details to watch out for are claims that there's this secret group that's been pulling the strings behind the scenes for a long while now, and that their agents are working everywhere to make sure the people stay deceived.

To be blunt about it, literally every conspiracy theory about a New World Order, a shadow government, generational satanists, satanic bloodlines, reptilian bloodlines, and so on is a riff on the material found within The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a czarist hoax used to justify violence against Russian Jews, and later on, the Holocaust. There are no exceptions.

During the Satanic Panic, many people claimed to have been part of such a conspiracy. Investigations failed to turn up any real evidence, and those pushing these claims always turned out to have a history of dishonest behavior, or had been subjected to hypnosis by someone with a history of dishonest behavior and/or a gross disregard for medical ethics.

If you see someone claiming to have been part of something like this today, your best assumption is that they are lying to you, or are extremely confused. End of story.

Great Goddess conspiracy theories: Back in the mid-19th century, Eduard Gerhard proposed that people all used to worship the Great Goddess, until patriarchy came along and replaced her with a god. There's literally no evidence for this whatsoever, but a lot of people who believe that patriarchy is part of a grand conspiracy still believe this one. You'll often see it in conjunction with stuff about the "divine feminine" and womb magic among those who believe that patriarchy is part of the grand conspiracy.

Claims of mass ritual abuse and murder: An allegation that goes back to blood libel and the witch trials, far right conspiracy theorists often claim that there is an underground network of cults practicing ritual abuse and human sacrifice. This was the kind of thing that people were put under hypnosis to try and remember during the Satanic Panic, based on incorrect beliefs about how memory worked. (In reality, going under hypnosis to try and recover lost memories mainly results in fabricating completely new ones, because hypnotic visions basically work just like dreams.)

Claims of mass mind control: Not many people realize this, but this one goes all the way back to the witch hunts, when alleged witches were accused of ensnaring people's minds with their diabolical spells. (Yes, the witch trials were fueled by conspiracy theories!) Today's conspiracy theorists claim that the conspiracy uses things like music, movies, implants, subliminal messages, drugs, medications, 5G, extreme tortures, and more to put people under total mind control. The whole Project Monarch conspiracy theory is part of this; and a number of people were also put under hypnosis to "remember" being part of Project Monarch during the Satanic Panic.

Anti-pharma/anti-vax conspiracy theories: During World War II, Nazis demonized pharmaceutical drugs as "Jewish science" so they could push cheaper herbal remedies, which were largely ineffective. If you see somebody claiming that pharmaceutical drugs or vaccines are created by the conspiracy to keep people sick or make them easier to control, know that it's a redux of this old bullshit. Today's anti-pharma and anti-vax conspiracy theories often go in conjunction with claims that stuff like crystals, energy healing, and quantum healing technology can replace conventional medical care.

Claims to know the real cause of your medical or psychological symptoms: During the early modern witch hunts, strange symptoms were often blamed on the curses of satanic witches. The Satanic Panic picked this one up and modernized it through a psychological lens, claiming that seemingly inexplicable symptoms were evidence of suppressed memories of ritual abuse. Meanwhile, believers in alien abductions claimed it was evidence of suppressed memories of alien-related trauma, and neopagans and New Agers claimed it was evidence of past life trauma. All of these people have used hypnosis to help people "remember" these supposedly lost memories, and due to the nature of hypnosis (again, hypnotic visions work like dreams), all of them found "evidence" to corroborate literally anything they wanted to find.

Other modernizations of this old witch hunters' canard include claims that your strange symptoms are caused by things like 5G, chemtrails, chemicals in the water, food additives, sound frequencies, or such. Now this isn't to say that there's never been toxic food additives, or that certain sound frequencies can never cause harm; the key element is when these people claim that this stuff is done as part of a grand conspiracy.

Meanwhile, New Agers claim that your strange symptoms might actually be "ascension symptoms." For the record, numerous dates that ascension was supposed to happen on have gone and went, and we're all still here in 3D. So I'd recommend not holding your breath for this one, either.

Claiming the conspiracy is responsible for everything bad or wrong in the world: Conspiracy theorists will blame the grand conspiracy for literally anything they find unpleasant or objectionable to the conspiracy. This can include claiming that movies they found confusing, emotionally difficult, or ideologically challenging were deliberately designed to harm people or put them under mind control. They might claim that things like long wait lines are intentionally engineered to frustrate and exhaust people in order to make them easier to control. They might claim that horrible accidents or disasters are actually "programming" to make people accept the lie.

This isn't to say that governments never do genuinely malicious shit, or that brainwashing doesn't exist. The thing here is that conspiracy theorists frequently attribute nearly everything they find strange, confusing, or unpleasant to the schemes of a grand conspiracy. They often act like if it wasn't for the grand conspiracy, we would be living in utopia.

Dehumanization of the Other: Conspiracy theorists often talk as if the masses aren't quite human, calling them "NPCs" or "sheeple." Sometimes they literally believe that other people aren't truly human. You'll find various conspiracy theories claiming that certain people are actually animal hybrids, AI-controlled clones, malicious aliens pretending to be humans, holographic projections, or something similar. The key thing to keep in mind here is that dehumanization is a crucial step toward genocide, and the far right wants to do genocide on anyone who doesn't do what they say, or doesn't fit their idea of what humanity ought to be like.

Individualist outlooks on life, metaphysics, etc: Today's far right is all about that Western individualism; they tend to be capitalists and libertarians, and think communism is an invention of the conspiracy. Their metaphysical views tend to reflect this, and they often subscribe to some form of worldview in which everything that happens to you is your fault, and expecting anyone else to take any kind of responsibility is just victim mentality.

With Christians, this presents as the belief that bad things happen to you because you're not right with God; if you got right with God, he would bless you with health and abundance.

With New Age and New Age-adjacent types, this often presents as stuff like the Law of Attraction and the Law of Assumption, where everything that happens to you is a consequence of the way you think. It can also present in the belief that if anything bad happens to you, it's your karma.

Stuff like the Law of Assumption is pitched as this super empowering way to get everything you want, but in reality it functions to make people feel responsible for the suffering they experience under capitalism and silence criticism of systemic issues.

So yeah, keep your eyes open for all this stuff, and if you see somebody out there pushing it - be wary!

Links for more info:

"How can I be a witch/pagan without falling for conspiracy theories/New Age cult stuff?" starter kit (I put a bunch of links to other posts and resources here earlier; no need to copy/paste them all here.)

Incomplete list of far right conspiracy theorists and con artists claiming to be occult experts and/or cult survivors

Hypnosis is unreliable for memory recovery, and this is one way we know.

False past life memories among the starseed movement

Hitler's Contribution to "Alternative Medicine"

#new age to alt right pipeline #radicalization #paganblr #occultblr #witchblr #conspiracy theories #conspiracy theory #conspiracism #new age #critical thinking #discernment #spirituality #conspirituality

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etheries1015 · 10 months

Text

The Demon brothers w/ MC who has arachnophobia

Arachnophobia: the irrational and extreme fear of spiders

TW: Arachnophobia, panic attacks, vomit

Overview: The brothers decide to make a bet on who can find your fear, and when one hits home and they don’t get the reaction they were truly hoping for, they comfort you in your time of panic.

Featuring: Lucifer, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Mammon, Satan

WARNING: I wrote this almost two years ago and it’s been just sitting inside of my drafts wasting away until I could find the motivation to write for the last couple of brothers. I did not find that motivation lol. So this has not been proofread, and I decided to just throw it into the pit of fire and share it anyway! Hope you like it nonetheless, but it definitely is not the best of my works. Please keep this in mind while reading.

Otherwise, take a look at my master list to see other works I do!

Authors note: Based my reaction to real things I personally feel regarding arachnophobia . I can't even look at pictures of them without feeling sick to my stomach, so the reaction is truly how I would feel in this situation... Hope I'm not the only one with this extreme fear, and hopefully its a little relatable.

Scenario:

There weren't many things the MC is afraid of, so it seems.

"So...MC, tell me," Solomon started, "If being surrounded by all of these demons and magic doesn't shake you up, what DOES scare you?" He smiled gently, that mysterious smile. Around the dinner table were all of the brothers during a community dinner at the House of Lamentation, staring intently at MC who only shrunk down into their seats. Chuckling nervously, MC rolled their eyes in slight annoyance.

"That...is something I'm not going to share with you," a cheerful smile planted upon their lips.

That was the very sentence that brought us to our...current situation.

A week passed, the brothers tried everything from ghost stories to walks in the woods late at night. Pretty tame, don't you think? They had a list of different possible fears a normal human may have, since the typical situations the MC found themselves in the devildom seem to not leave a dent in their confidence or bravery. One night, during meal preparation, came their next plan.

"Spiders? Really, Mammon? Levi?" Asmodeus sassily crossed his arms shaking his head in disapproval, leaning against the countertop.

"Hey, trust me. I read this thing -"

"You, Reading?" Satan interrupted Mammon, causing the brothers to snicker.

"Shut it!" Mammon growled, taking a small plastic spider and setting it in the bowl of food meant for MC, "I'm sure ima win this one," he proudly proclaimed, "I looked up a buncha different human fears and this seemed to be a popular one."

"You guys are such kids..." Belphie yawned, trudging to the dining room, "Let’s go eat, Beel."

The red-headed twin looked back at the bowl with a worried expression before turning back on his heel to follow his brother. Each of them entered the dining room where MC sat waiting, along with the group from purgatory hall. A smile was planted on their lips as they joked with the angels and fellow human, thanking Mammon as he set their food in front of them.

"Ah..." MC looked up at Mammon with a confused look, "Thank...you? I could have dished up myself-"

Mammon cut them off saying something rushed and embarrassed along the lines of "I can be nice when I want to, don't get the wrong idea, though!" Before taking his own seat.

The brothers stared in anticipation, watching MC lead the spoon up to their lips

Looking back down at the bowl, MC froze in shock for a moment.

That was when they saw it.

Your reaction

With a shaking hand, you drop the spoon and covered your mouth with your hand, ready to throw up. You quickly pushed the chair back causing it to fall, running to the nearest garbage to throw up what you had eaten. At this point, you were now a shaking, sobbing mess. Your heart was beating so fast, the reveal of the spider in your meal replaying in your head. You couldn't even bring yourself to close your eyes to try and collect yourself, all you could see was that...wretched creature every time you saw darkness.

Their reaction:

Lucifer:

He sensed the immense fear from you immediately and quickly took the initiative to remove the bowl from your grasp.

Though he had taken away the source, he could feel the buildup of fear continue.

He stared in shock for a moment, even though he took away the bowl, you still had reacted the way you did.

After getting over the moment of shock from your state, he had rushed to your side.

He had never seen you so shaken up, he wasn't sure if he should even touch you in fear of making it somehow worse.

Excused himself and you from the table to take you to the kitchen to breath, hugging you when he knew it was okay to do so. (We love consent here)

He thought it was silly, fearing something so small when you don't even struggle with CERBERUS, a literal giant demon dog.

"I don't fully understand the reasoning, but..." He cupped your cheeks with his long, slender fingers gently , looking you intently in the eyes, "I will not allow some little bug take away your smile from us. Or me."

Has the house deep cleaned for any cobwebs or reminders of spiders, he knows how it feels to be so afraid of something that any reminder of said fear is painful, no matter how little or big that fear may be.

Hung Mammon up for the entire idea

This man would protect you from anything, even from a small insect that he has no understanding the fear behind it.

Mammon:

Poor puppy had no idea what to do other than panic, color draining from his face the second he saw your shaking hand and the yelp of fear escape your lips.

Doesn't apologize at first with words, but with actions.

Runs to your side while you are doubled over in fear over the garbage can, wanted to pat your back but instead he just awkwardly waits for you to look at him once you're done throwing up.

Oh boy. He looks like a kicked puppy the second he saw the tears streaming down your face, shaking like crazy.

Wasn't sure what to say, so he just pulled you into his arms.

"I'm ....sorry," he mumbled, awkwardly patting your back in attempt to comfort you.

Will tease you after though, and brag that he won for finding out your fear.

Never did it again, and is secretly on the look out for any spiders around you or the house so he can rid of it before you see it.

He's weak for your tears <3

Leviathan:

He doesn't even know what to do, when you start running to the garbage can he only stares in surprise.

Honestly , he probably isn't the type to actively comfort you right away, he's trying to think of what he could do to help later on instead.

Walks up to you while you're calming down, before asking if you are okay

Genuinely doesn't understand the fear behind such a small creature, there are millions of other things much scarier in the games you play together.

He would give behind the scenes comfort, making sure his brothers don't bring anything regarding spiders up, and will make sure to proof watch/read manga, anime, and games to make sure it doesn't have anything to trigger your arachnophobia

"I know you think I'm just a weird gross otaku but... I care about these things too! I'll make sure you can enjoy all of our anime and gameplay nights without worrying about something like that!"

Cuddles and anime night with a comfort anime of your choice.

Asmodeus:

He definitely doesn't understand the reasoning behind such a fear, but he too, is willing to ignore that fact when it comes to you.

He doesn't LIKE them because they are unsightly, but for sure isn't AFRAID of them, and thought at first you were the same.

That was...until he saw the genuine fear in your eyes after he ran after you and patted your back as you vomited.

He doesn't do anything directly to help you avoid spiders, but will do anything to comfort you. Head rubs, movie nights in his room, he is more of a .... "Distract yourself from your problems and fears instead of face them" kind of demon.

"Look at me , into my eyes. Forget those awful little things," he gently grabs your hand and sets his forehead against yours, "they can't hurt you, darling. It'll be okay. If you're still scared, shall we sleep together tonight?" He giggles.

He loves you and tries very hard to make you feel better, since your being is (almost) more important than his own. But he isn't always the best at this, since loving others more than him is a bit of a new concept.

He's trying for you xoxo

Satan:

He never thought he would ever see you break with something like this

But understands well enough, he had extended knowledge on different human fears, all the better for his class on manipulating humans...

The calm one, cleaning up the mess while the others panic to be by your side.

Angrily lectures all of the brothers on arachnophobia and the side effects and reactions you may have if this happened again.

Whispering sweet words of comfort as you sob and shake in his arms. Gently rubbing your back while glaring at the brothers. While they could sense your fear, Satan's anger was far greater.

Does blame himself a little bit, since he was aware of the plan but didn't particularly do anything to actively stop it. But makes up for it xoxo

"I know a good cat café near by, if you're up for it, I'll buy you whatever you want as an apology." He kissed your forehead gently.

Before suggesting any books to read, he proof reads them for any sign of spiders, pictures or in depth descriptions could be just as traumatizing!

Since his room is always a constant mess of books, it’s bound to become dusty. Now, before you enter his room, he makes sure that even if his books are not cleaned up, that the cobwebs and dust is taken care of.

#Obey me #Obey me shall we date #Obey me lucifer #Leviathan obey me #Obey me x reader #obey me shall we date x reader #Obey me Mammon #Obey me asmodeus #Obey me satan #Asmodeus x reader #Mammon x reader #Leviathan x reader #Lucifer x reader #Satan x reader #Obey me fanfiction #Obey me fanfic #Obey me head cannon

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Text

Summary: The year is 1988. After the loss of a beloved family member, you find yourself inheriting an old coffee shop. The quiet bartender at the Hideout across the street just so happens to catch your eye.

(8k+ words; eddie munson x afab!reader; sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie vibes)

Warnings: Vignette style (sorta); Eddie’s post S4 trauma; panic attacks; nightmares; family member loss; grief; alcohol use; mild smut in later chapters so 18+; additional warnings to be added.

(AO3 Link) || Master List || NEXT CHAPTER ||

Winter, 1987

Everyone tells you it’s crazy.

They say to take the money and sell the property your grandfather left you in his will.

They say to take it and run.

They say don’t move to that town, the shop’s a lost cause, the place is cursed.

They tell you they’ve got murderers and the literal gates of hell were open there for a time.

‘Satanic worship,’ some say.

‘Cultists.’

‘Don’t want to mess with their kind; might rub off on you, make you evil.’

‘One of them Freaks.’

‘And whatever you do, don’t ever go to that trailer park,’ is the gravest of warnings you’re given. Apparently some girl was sacrificed there, and that’s when it all started.

Eyes ripped clean from her skull, body broken, just like two others around the same time.

Mangled beyond repair.

The work of pure evil.

‘They’ll tell you everything’s okay now,’ people warn you, ‘but it’s not.’

It’s all lies.

Meant to try and preserve that place.

To try and bring life to a town many believe should have been erased from the map.

But you’ve never been one for rumor or superstition.

So you pack some bags with your things and get in your car.

Hawkins it is.

All in all, Hawkins is…quaint.

A small town with a modest population. People turn and look as you pull into the shop parking lot with bags spilling out of your trunk and piled high in the backseat.

It’s the kind of town where they wave as you get out, curious gazes trying to get a glimpse of the new girl.

Only you’re not new. A stranger, maybe, but this town made up your formative years.

Memories of walking in the streets, getting ice cream with your grandfather, enjoying a day in the park, riding your bike in the neighborhood flit in your mind. They bring a smile to your face as you climb out of your car and take in the front of Sunshine Coffee.

It’s…different than you remember. Darker, somehow. But what’s darkness against a little love and light, you think, as you brush your fingers along the front door and push the key inside the lock.

A bell chimes above you and suddenly you’re a kid again, running inside to snatch a cookie freshly out of the back oven.

You brush your hands along your face to wipe your tears away at the memory as you step further into the building, taking in the place.

It seems like your grandfather had kept up with the place up until his death, or had at the very least hired someone to maintain it.

Sure, it needs a little love and updating, but it’s still got that homey feeling. The sort of place that immediately makes you feel at peace when you enter.

It’s so funny to think this is the same town.

This town people back home said is bestowed with a curse. It’s a little more rundown than you remember. Buildings here and there with wooden planks in windows, or burn scars, regrowing grass.

But it looks like it’s healing.

Like everything they’ve gone through is becoming more and more a thing of the past.

People seem joyous now, your heart swelling when you later see your new neighbors, an elderly couple that owns the local flower shop, and they offer to help you unpack.

You only thank them, telling them you’re more than okay, but that you appreciate the offer.

And they wish you well on your ways, saying they are proud to see your grandfather’s shop open up again.

You spend the afternoon walking back and forth from your car to the building, unpacking your things, making yourself at home.

Home.

This is home now.

What a funny thing?

Just wanna make you proud.

It takes a few weeks of deep cleaning and reorganizing, but Sunshine Coffee gets back to its normal splendor, with a few new personal touches thrown in.

You’ve updated the place, replaced the darker hues your grandfather preferred with paler shades.

Creams, tans, whites.

You’ve removed the drapery against the windows and swapped them for billowing curtains, delicate laces, whimsical accents.

The windows are full of fresh poinsettias and other red and green offerings. Whatever blooms are in season at the time, given to you as donations from your new neighbors—the sweet older couple who own the flower shop next door.

There’s also a new bar you don’t recognize from the last time you came to visit nearby.

The Hideout, the scrawling font declares.

It glows through your bedroom window at night.

The little upstairs apartment your grandfather had built is small, but suitable for your needs. It’s no more than a kitchen, bathroom, living area, and bedroom that you can access from the back entrance of the coffee shop. You have little other than some necessities at this point, but figure you’ll take a trip to the thrift store in the upcoming months once you have cash to spare to spruce things up to your liking.

At night, you can hear music filtering in through your windows—a different genre each night.

Most nights, it lulls you to sleep.

And it’s not long before the coffee shop is ready for opening, and a ‘NOW HIRING’ sign stands erect in the window.

Now we wait, you think, pride blooming in your chest.

Because it’s not much.

But it’s all yours.

A legacy upheld in a town that maybe needs a little bit of hope.

Max and El are life saviors that blow in a few days after you hang your sign up in the window alerting the whole town you’re here to stay and looking for help.

Opening day is set for a week from now, and you still need to train the potential staff on how to make the treats on your menu, and the coffees and teas you intend to offer.

And there they are, a flash of red and brown hair as they pull up one day in front of the cafe and knock on the front window. You can’t help but think they’re solicitors at first. You’ve really not ventured far from your shop and apartment yet, still getting used to the new town you’d only visited over the summers throughout your childhood.

You interview them both at the same time, finding them more than capable, and offer them to start training that afternoon if they’re available. Your grandfather had left enough in his will to ensure you have a little money to last you for a bit, and until you have a steady stream of customers you intend to use it to pay them.

Training goes smoothly.

The girls are naturals, it seems, understanding within a few hours how to make most of your drink offerings and work the register.

The three of you spend the afternoon in your new work aprons—black in color with Sunshine Coffee written across in pretty white detailing with little daisies underneath—and suddenly it starts to feel real.

Even if it’s a failure, even if you have to pack up and go home, it’s real and it’s yours and you’re doing this.

Spring, 1988

It starts as a…well, it starts as nothing.

In the beginning, there’s this nothingness.

Held together only by a mutual love for coffee.

Or rather, his need for coffee to get him through his shifts. You’re the supplier, really. But that’s where it starts. Humble beginnings, fleeting glances, soft exchanges. In those breathless seconds, where neither of you speaks, but silence screams.

He’s the boy with eloquent sadness, a way about him unfamiliar and curious, and you’re the girl who wants nothing more than to break down his walls.

To find out who Eddie Munson is at his core.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s best this way for things to start.

It gives things a chance to start, to grow, to thrive.

To begin…

The first weeks of the coffee shop opening are better than anything you could ever imagine. It seems like the town has been in need of a place to get away, to enjoy the company of friends and community. And it doesn’t take long before you’re adding chairs and tables both inside and out to make more room for those wishing to buy a drink or a treat and stay around.

El and Max mill about behind the register. El tending to money exchanges and Max perfecting the foam on her cappuccino for the table of boys sitting near the front of the building who just so happen to be their boyfriends. They’re trying to be subtle about it, probably to keep their interest a secret from you (their boss) but you find it endearing, seeing them glance over every so often to look fondly at them.

“Girls,” you call over to them. Two heads whip your way. “You’ve both stayed late the past two days, I’ll close up shop. Go to the movies, have fun, be teenagers. I’ve got things here.”

“Really?” El asks, looking over your shoulder to the longer haired boy to give him a shy little wave.

“Yes,” you say, tying your apron around your hips and slipping behind the counter. “Go—both of you, or else you’re both fired.”

Max snorts at that, untying her own apron from her hips and blowing a red strand of hair away from her face. Her blue eyes clash with your own as she hooks the apron on the racks you have hanging against the back wall.

“You’re sure?” she asks.

“Yes,” you tell them. “Although it looks like we’ll be needing more help sooner than I expected. If either of you know anyone looking for work, let me know. Now shoo!”

The group of teenagers rushes out the door with no further protesting, leaving you alone with the hustle and bustle of your shop.

And soon, the morning rush slows into the afternoon lull.

It’s during this time of day, you’ve noticed, the building quiets and you have time to clean up a bit around the place.

Patrons sit around in hushed conversation, writing in notebooks, or reading their books as you maneuver about the tables with a rag, wiping down surfaces until they sparkle in the setting sunlight.

It’s then that the door jingles and in walks your next customer.

He’s a vision in all black. Dark pants, dark jacket, dark Metallica shirt underneath. His hair is pulled back behind his head, strands coming to fall in curls around his face, forehead full of raven colored bangs. But it’s his face that’s striking. He’s all hard lines and sinewy bone, pale skin that accentuates the small dimple in his cheek as he regards the room upon entering. The shadow of his eyes reach yours as you rush behind the counter to serve him, and his head only tilts up just enough where you can see a scar crawling up the side of his face, and another on his neck. But it does nothing to detract from the fact he’s striking.

Beautiful, in a way you’ve not seen before.

At your gentle perusal, he tilts his head a bit, angling himself in a way where it’s hidden from view once more.

“What can I g—”

“A black coffee, two sugars. Please.”

Short.

Clipped.

No nonsense.

Your head dips swiftly and you rush over to pour him a cup from the freshest pot, fingers trembling a bit as you rip two sugar packets and pour them within, before stirring the drink with a wooden stick.

You walk back over to the counter, grin sliding across your features as you announce, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around yet. First coffee for a new customer is always free.”

He grasps the cup in his hand as you offer it to him.

There’s a brief tick in his cheek.

Not quite a smile, but not a grimace either. “Thank you…”

You tell him your name, pausing at the end to leave him room to say his.

He doesn’t, though.

His head only dips and he leaves, the door jingling on his way out.

Well, nice to meet you, too, stranger.

The man in all black comes back every day after that.

Every day at four in the afternoon.

He orders the same black coffee with two sugars and never says much more than a few words.

Good afternoon.

I’m fine.

Thank you.

Every day he seems in a rush, everyday he seems caught up in his thoughts, every day he makes you wonder what it is about him that makes him so distant from the rest of Hawkins.

You’re mid sweeping one afternoon when you decide to ask Max if she knows anything about the man who says little and regards you even less.

“You mean Eddie,” she states, wiping down a countertop.

“What’s his story?” You ask.

“It’s not really for me to say,” she admits, pausing in her cleaning. “What I can say is…two years ago some stuff happened and he was kind of…in the middle of it all. Why?”

“He’s a customer,” you tell her, resuming your sweeping. “Just trying to get to know everyone. New girl in town and all, you know?”

Over the next few weeks, you make it your mission to try to get to know your elusive customer.

You start with writing silly facts on his cups; you figure it’s lighthearted and pleasant, a great conversation starter even.

Or at least that’s your hope.

You set his cup aside a little while before he comes in, whatever fun fact is in the newspaper for the day already ready on the outside of his cup. He doesn’t react at first, and even when he starts to, you can almost tell what kind of day he’s having by his reactions.

A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.

A twitch in his dimple.

He’s really not looking to stick around, probably has to be somewhere.

Almonds are a member of the peach family.

A soft uptick of his lip.

He spares you a few extra words that day.

Tells you to have a nice afternoon before slipping out the front door.

A dime has 118 ridges around the edge.

He finally tells you his name, even though Max told you weeks ago now.

It’s nice to hear it from him, though.

“Eddie…Eddie Munson.”

He says it slowly, as if he’s expecting some sort of response out of you.

Except it never comes.

You only smile, and that seems to calm him a bit, his shoulders slouching comfortably.

He glances down at the factoid on his cup and lets out a laugh.

The sound catches you off guard, just as his voice does most days.

It’s beautiful and your heart twists in your chest, knowing you’ve brought it out of him.

“You really think someone sat around and counted?” He asks.

“Obviously,” you tease, handing him his change. “It’s in the newspaper. Doesn’t that mean it has to be true?”

He lets out another laugh and tosses his change into your tip jar, shaking his head as he slips away and out of view.

You don’t mean to find out where he works the way you do. You’ve been steadily slipping factoids on his cups for the better part of eight weeks when you close up shop for the night and decide to go on a little walk around the neighborhood.

Spring is finally getting warmer, your thin sweater more than enough to block out the chill of the night as you slip out the front door and step out beneath one of the street lamps.

You can hear the familiar thumping coming from the Hideout, but what isn’t familiar to you is the sight of Eddie leaning against the front of the building with his leather jacket unzipped, threadbare navy tee in place, and a cigarette between his lips. You spot the flash of silver in the dangling earring in his ear, the curls that dance about his shoulders freely today.

He looks like a phantom in the night, all shadows and pale features bathed in moonlight.

“Streets aren’t safe at night,” he calls from across the short distance.

“I think I can handle my own,” you shout back, stepping further along the parking lot. “You know, those are terrible for you. My grandpa needed a quadruple bypass after all the years he smoked.”

He lets out a low whistle. “I’ll give ‘em up one day.”

“Just not today?”

“Not today,” he admits, glancing over your way. “Heading home for the night?”

“I…actually live in the shop. I have an apartment upstairs,” you tell him, crossing your hands behind your back and clasping them there.

You sway lightly on the balls of your feet, a little nervous to be standing before the man who spares you a few words on a good day.

“You got a lock?” he asks, snubbing out his cigarette on the concrete below with a dark boot.

“A chain one for now. The deadbolt doesn’t work well.”

“You need a new deadbolt then,” he tells you, not quite making eye contact. “These drunken idiots get up to who knows what when they leave here.”

You bite at your bottom lip, trying to hide your grin. He arches a brow in question, pushing up off the wall to step nearer to you. “Eddie Munson, are we becoming friends?”

“There are no other good coffee shops in town,” he says with a shrug, and if anything it makes you grin wider. “I’ll install it on the weekend if you’re around. Before my shift.”

You ask, “Here?”

He nods. “I bartend, yeah.”

“Saturday is good.”

He dips his head once, feet moving him backwards a bit toward the bar. “I have to head back. I’ll see you.” He pauses at the door and adds over his shoulder, “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” you echo.

He doesn’t smile.

Not yet.

But he waves, and something hopeful flickers in your belly.

True to his word, Eddie Munson shows up at three in the afternoon on Saturday.

El and Max wave as he enters, and you wonder if they know him more than they let on, with the way he lets them come forward to press themselves into the crook of either of his arms and they lead him toward your shoddy apartment entrance.

You tend to the front counter as Eddie works out back, showing your newest hire, Will Byers, how to perfect foam on a latte. He’s El’s step-brother, you learn very early on, and a son to Joyce who happens to be a regular. Her husband, Hopper, also comes in from time to time.

And though you were hesitant at first in hiring siblings to work together, you learn pretty quickly that Will is the quietest of the bunch, whereas it’s El and Max who tend to get a little rowdier.

“Was that good?” Will asks gently, holding the lid to the cup a few inches above the drink, closing it as you nod.

“Perfect!”

You clap excitedly, earning a smile from the boy just as Eddie comes stalking back in with the girls at his heels.

He glances at you as you approach from around the counter, the skirt about your ankles shifting as you move, his eyes dark as you hold out a coffee cup in hand.

He takes a sip and hums, the toolbag he brought with him over one shoulder shifting as he moves closer to you. “Thanks.”

“How much do I owe you for this?” You ask, not wanting to be a bother.

He was the one to offer in the first place, and yet you feel like you owe him something.

“This is fine,” he says, holding the cup up for emphasis.

“Eddie,” you start to argue softly, chewing at your lip.

The girls look on with equal expressions of interest from over his shoulders.

“This is payment enough,” he promises, tipping his head up at Will over your shoulder. “Hiring all the kids, huh?”

“They don’t seem to mind,” you say, smirking slightly to the girls. “Plus, I think I’m a fun boss.”

The girls nod in agreement, and over your shoulder Will echoes the sentiment. Eddie snorts, hooking his bag higher over his shoulder. He glances about the room one last time before he cups El over the top of her head and ruffles Max’s double braids.

“Gotta start my shift,” he announces, turning about the heel and heading to the door. He stops to turn and look at you, the shop mostly empty by now. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Thank you for fixing my door.”

And he’s gone, out the door and crossing the parking lot to the bar across the way.

El is the first one to burst into a fit of giggles, and soon Max follows. Will urges the girls to keep their composure, but you suddenly have three teens laughing at you—or at least you assume they’re laughing at you, because their dark haired friend is long gone now.

You whirl on them all, feeling heat bloom beneath your skin. “What?”

Your response is their giggling, each kid one by one resuming their job tasks.

Will to his lattes, El to the register, and Max back to cleaning the shop.

You never find out what’s so hilarious.

You decide to switch things up in the weeks that follow, as the month of May starts to bleed into June.

The weather starts to rise and the people of Hawkins start to wear less layers.

Except for Eddie.

Eddie’s always wearing his leather jacket.

Always.

On those days, when Eddie’s storm cloud over his head seems a little extra heavy, you swap his cup with a grinning factoid on it with one that has a corny joke written across instead.

What do you call a pig that does karate? A pork chop.

He’s…well, he’s not impressed with that one. Only offers you a pitying hum before he marches off and heads to the Hideout.

Why did the golfer bring two pairs of pants? In case he got a hole in one.

You think you catch the slightest curl of his lips.

Maybe you imagine it, but it makes you feel warm and giddy inside long after he’s gone, humming a Beatles song as you wipe down tables.

What did the policeman say to his belly button? You’re under a vest.

That one makes him glower.

Actually glower.

But you know it’s only half-hearted, because he says, “This one was ridiculous and even you know it.”

“I’m trying!” you whine the words and he chuckles, humming as he slips out the front door, chime dangling as he goes.

Why do seagulls fly over the sea? If they flew over the bay, they would be bagels.

He’s not happy with that one. But you can also tell he’s not happy in general.

A group of people around a table had looked at him as he entered that afternoon, whispering amongst themselves.

In the months you’ve been at Hawkins, you can tell there’s an affinity for gossip here.

But Eddie?

He’s always to himself, never says much more than he needs to, makes himself seem smaller whenever possible.

You can’t imagine what anyone might have to say about him.

But you hand him his coffee all the same and don’t miss the way he tucks his hair over the scars along his neck and face as he walks back out.

Why are there gates around cemeteries? Because people are dying to get in.

Something happens that day.

It takes your breath away.

Eddie laughs, a genuine, joyous laugh.

And what’s even better? It’s paired with a smile.

The first you’ve seen on his face, and it’s absolutely beautiful.

Lightning slashes across the sky and you know it’s only a matter of time before you hear the resounding boom that fills the air.

It sends you shooting up in bed, heart hammering away in your still unfamiliar apartment, moving across your bed to try and flick your bedside lamp on.

Only nothing changes, and you’re still left in darkness.

Power outage.

Your heart kicks up at the dread curling in your chest as you try and navigate about the room. Thankfully you can see light seeping in through your bedroom window. The familiar glow from the Hideout sign catches your eye.

You open your blinds enough to let some of the light in and move about the room to pull on a pair of jeans and some shoes, and then rush over to grab your backpack and raincoat hanging from your closet.

The distance between your shop and the Hideout seems daunting with it downpouring as it is, feet barreling beneath you as you rush across the parking lot and shove the door open.

Hawkins is a small town, you know this, but you realize just how small when everyone in the room whirls around and you recognize them as regulars of the shop.

And just as you recognize them, they recognize you.

You figure very quickly you have three options: rush to the bar and seat near the currently busy Eddie who is making a drink for an eager patron; try to sit with some of your regulars and mingle for a bit; or pick the furthest corner of the bar to hang out in and keep to yourself.

Keeping to yourself rules out, your sleep deprived state carrying you over to the furthest seat, which happens to be a little booth in a corner, away from prying eyes.

You intend to read.

Really, you do.

Pull out the book from your backpack and everything, open to the page where you left off, but the hum of the music from the jukebox in the corner has your eyes fluttering. The mingling of customers as they talk about their weeks, the shuffle of feet against hardwood floors, the tinkling of glasses as groups toast to life has you propping your head up with your hand. You glance over to Eddie and catch his gaze briefly, his hair moving about his face as he works, talking with one of his customers, all stoic and hard like stone.

You remember his smile and you smile.

Your eyes scan the words on your current page but they start to blur. The room dissolves around you. And finally, with the sound of thunder faraway in your mind, you drift off into sleep.

“We close at three in the morning,” a voice says.

“What time is it?” You groan against your book, face pressing into the cover, eyes bleary.

He's walking toward you when you rouse, slow movements and long limbs. Light on his feet in a way that seems otherworldly, but makes sense for him.

“Three ten? Fifteen?”

Even in your sleepy state you know who it is right away.

Dark hair, pale skin, chocolate brown eyes.

Eddie.

His body slides into the vinyl booth across from you, a towel strewn over his shoulder, hair pulled back in another one of his signature ponytails.

You blink twice, wondering if he’s about to disappear, but his image only solidifies further the more you come to. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m sorry—seriously. You can kick me out. I'm sure you want to get out of here and I’ve kept you late. I…my power went out and I saw your lights were still on over here so I walked over and I—”

You sound tired and it’s a little pitiful on your ears. The new girl who can’t even sleep in her own apartment because of a little storm. You curse under your breath, hoarseness lingering as you utter another ‘sorry’ under your breath.

“Breathe,” he says, sliding a glass of water across the table. “Drink. Slow sips; don’t want you choking on me.”

You lift the glass and take a slow sip. That sandpaper feeling gnawing in the back of your throat lessens. “Sorry…again.”

“It’s fine,” he says, and the silence between you lingers.

You’re not used to this. This quiet that breathes and settles into the atmosphere around you. And yet, you’re not sure how to fill those spaces.

Eddie only leans back in the seat, one ankle hooked over his knee, a forearm across the table.

“I…uh, don’t like storms,” you admit softly, sliding your cup around the table in a circle, settling on trying to get something out of him beyond your normal short responses you’re used to. “The dark either. Not really. So when my power went out, I just didn’t want to, uh, be alone.”

He’s silent again for a while. Reaches across the table to thumb at the condensation on your glass. It feels familiar, and yet it’s not. You’re still mostly strangers. Two people who live in the same vicinity as one another, and yet you’re not friends.

Not yet.

You can see the twitch in his fingers, the tapping of them along the surface, rings on his fingers glinting in the light.

You’ve noticed them before, sure, but never like this.

Never so close.

He swallows and you catch the bob of his throat. The shift of his silver chains around his neck. “I don’t like the dark either.”

His voice is so soft, eyes focusing on a rivulet dripping from your glass. He’s not looking at you, and that’s okay, because you’re still shaken by the sudden vulnerability of the admission.

I don’t like the dark, either.

You can’t quite mask your disbelief. Him of all people, afraid of the dark, catches you off guard. “Really?” Your voice wavers at the end.

He finally looks up at you, and his eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Yeah. Haven’t for—well, for a while now,” he says quietly, slowly. He drags a hand along the back of his neck, rubbing lightly. “Kind of why I work here. By the time I get home there’s only a couple hours till sunrise.”

You sense his hesitance at sharing that. The way he shifts ever so subtly against the vinyl, glancing back away from your gaze. You soften, heart warming at the fact he chose this moment to open up, even if only slightly. Your thumb grazes the side of your glass, eyes intent on a droplet that cascades down the side, and you force a sly grin across your lips.

“It’s why you’re a secret coffee fiend too.”

He huffs out a laugh at that, sides shaking from the effort. “I don’t really think it’s a secret.”

You swallow, throat a little dry as you softly ask, “Hey, Eddie?”

It’s a gamble and you fear you might push him too far too soon, but the question rests in your mind all the same. Has been for some weeks now. This wonder as to where Eddie goes when all of Hawkins goes to sleep at night. Why you’ve never seen him elsewhere, except for the four walls of your shop and now this bar.

“Hmm?”

Your fingers toy with your napkin sitting beneath your glass of water. A corner rips away and you ball it up between your fingers, letting it soak in the slickness of the table from your melted ice. “Where is…home? I never really see you around town, except for when you stop by the shop.”

“It’s in the next town over. I like the…privacy.” He sounds faraway, even though he’s sitting right across from you.

You understand what he means. Since moving in, you feel like you’ve been thrust into a world where you’re constantly under a microscope. People want to know at all times what the ‘new girl’ is up to. You’re used to all the gossip. The hush of whispers on the streets, the questions of what you’ve been up to, if you’re seeing anyone, what a young girl is doing moving into a town like theirs. And while most people are accepting and kind, you can’t help but to feel like they’re simultaneously picking you apart or waiting for you to fail.

“Hawkins is small, so I understand that. I unwillingly know everyone’s drama.”

You notice he’s started to fidget with his hands. Pale fingers curl around those silver rings adoring his knuckles and begin to twist, metal jangling against metal. “Everyone?”

There’s an innate urge to reach across the table and soothe him. To brush your fingers against the back of his hand, remind him that you’re there to talk and nothing more. To be a friend to him, in whatever capacity he allows.

It’s clear that there’s trepidation there over your words. Fear, unbidden.

You shake your head rapidly, wishing to urge away his worries. “Not yours, if that’s what you’re worried about. Believe it or not, you’re a tough one to crack.” You let out an uneasy chuckle, and add, “but I think I’m starting to.”

“Think so?” His brows perk up at that, body shifting to lean forward on his elbows. From this angle you can see every detail of his face, the span of his lashes, the way his bangs tickle his forehead and those shorter curls brush the highest point of his cheeks.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning forward onto your elbows. You drop your voice into a whisper, like you’re about to share the deepest of secrets and mutter, “you prefer corny jokes to facts, for one. You laugh more at them.”

He’s, well, he’s magnetic like this. You’re not sure he even sees it. This quality of curiosity that brims when he’s near, to know, to learn about him. “That’s because they’re so awful I have to. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, you know?”

Mirth bubbles in your gut at his words. “You actually love the kids that work for me.”

“They’re…they’re good kids.” He says it looking off into the distance a little.

You imagine he’s thinking of El, Will and Max. You drift off all the same, thinking of them with their glowing kindness and effervescent personalities. Each one a bright spot in your life and valuable both to your business and personally as the children that brighten your days.

“You like black coffee with two sugars. Fitting. Tells me a lot about you.” It’s said brightly, practically giddy as your elbows press further into the tabletop.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“You like a little sweetness in your life.”

He guffaws. Head drops back as he shakes with it. You pout as he meets your gaze, his voice light as he opens his mouth to speak. “That was about as bad as your corny jokes,” he tells you. “Plus I gave you that one for free. Doesn’t count.”

“That's all I’ve got so far from you.” You slide the glass closer to your form, fingers circling around the base. “but I’m patient.”

He’s suddenly very interested in the clock resting over your shoulder. You know it’s there when you follow the line of his sight and see it there, his dark eyes flickering between that and you, and then the bar on the far side of the room. His fingers drift up to the towel over his shoulder, curling around the edge as he slides it down and holds it within his palm.

“I…should really close up the place. I’ll drive you home. Just give me a few, okay?” He’s already standing. Long limbs slide out of the side of the booth, his earring glinting in the moonlight drifting in from the open windows.

You immediately feel a burning in your gut at the thought of inconveniencing someone you barely know, hands coming up in front of you as you urge, “You don’t have to. It’s a short walk.”

His response is a hard stare and a monotone, “It’s pouring.”

“Okay, if you insist.” You force an uncertain smile onto your face, pushing your glass away from your form to let it rest in the center of the table.

He’s already walking behind the bar when he says, “I insist.”

You sit in silence as he works. He’s diligent and swift about it, moving in and out of tables and chairs, making sure every inch of the building is spick and span. You remain with your head in your hand, elbow on the table, simply watching him. You try to remain inconspicuous about it, not wanting to linger too long on his features. And yet there’s the part of you that cannot look away from him. That magnetic quality sparking something unfamiliar in your gut; this pull to figure out his secrets, crack the code to what makes him him.

You notice he hums as he works, a tune you vaguely recognize spilling through pursed lips, his lithe arms shifting as he does.

He watches you, too, you notice after a while.

Dark eyes haunting and imploring, drifting to your frame every so often.

You wonder what he’s thinking.

You wonder how he sees you—if he looks at you with as much curiosity as you do him.

And then he’s reaching for his wallet and keys from a lock box kept in a secret space behind the bar, fingers jingling as he holds the silver metal aloft before him.

You rush over to him when he waves you over, moving to go stand at his side as the two of you slip from the building doors and he locks up behind you. He leads you to a van in silence and opens the passenger side door as you walk around the vehicle. There’s a brief moment of touch as he extends a hand to you and you climb inside, trying to move quickly to avoid being soaked to the bone once more. Eddie drapes a hand over his head and rushes around the other side, clambering in with a loud huff and slamming the door shut beside him.

His head shakes as he enters, the audible jingle of metal in his ear echoing in the space as water droplets flick from the moist ends of his hair. You toy with the edge of your sweatshirt awkwardly, uncertain of where to look. Where to focus as he turns the radio on and metal music blares out. Catching your sudden jolt, his fingers move to lower the knob, eyes meeting yours in the dark of the moonlight. The music settles into a quiet hum, lyrics swirling around in your mind as he regards you carefully.

There’s a beat of silence, and then he says, “You know, you can come to the Hideout after your shop closes. I might not be able to talk much, but…well, it’s there.”

It’s an invitation.

An opening.

A welcome to his world.

You don’t miss that; you don’t miss the clear implication of his words. The fact he doesn’t mind you being in his space, being near him, spending time within his company.

But you can sense his nervousness. The way he shifts in his seat and curls his palm around the steering wheel, hands a little shaky as he lets out a slow exhale. Trying to ease the tension, you turn in your seat and glance up at him through your lashes, passing him your kindest of smiles.

“Across the parking lot from me,” you say, a little uneasily, a little nervousness brimming at the surface.

You’re only feet away from one another on a good day.

A thirty second walk, if you were to time it.

“Yup,” he says, turning his eyes onto the building in front of him as he puts the key into the ignition and starts the car.

It’s a short drive.

The shortest really.

He turns around in a giant circle and ends up in front of your building, car jerking lightly as he puts it into park and pulls the key from the ignition. Your hands slide across the fabric against your thighs, throat burning as you look across the space between the two of you and see him regarding you carefully like he expects you to flit away into the wind. Like he expects to blink and your appearance will disappear from his mind, there one moment and gone the next like an apparition.

You gather your things in your hand and reach for the door handle.

“Well, thank you for keeping me company tonight and for driving me home,” you say, opening the side door.

“Not a problem at all.” His voice is quiet.

But he gives you one of those smiles, and that brings an unthinkable joy to your heart.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight.”

It really starts with trips after work.

They’re quiet and tentative.

Nothing more than glances over the top of your glass of wine or whatever you choose for the night as you sit near the bar.

Eddie hadn’t lied when he said he might not be able to talk much. He’s typically occupied for a majority of his shift, and when he’s not he’s cleaning or trying to maintain the place.

Even when you can catch up to talk, it’s brief conversation there and there about the day to day.

His remarks about whatever fact or joke you put on his cup that day, talks about the weather, how your day was.

But you find you enjoy it, and soon enough routine takes place: everyday you open up for your shift, stay till close and help the kids clean up, and then rush across the parking lot to share space with your work neighbor.

So yes, it starts as strangers, but it’s grown into this.

Into this something.

You find that you like it.

“So what’s your story?” It’s Chance Muller who asks you.

Chance with his dark hair and brown eyes.

Chance with his muscular stature, honed by years of sports in school and maintenance thereafter.

He’s pretty, in this almost too perfect kind of way.

And he likes you; that much is obvious very early on, simply because he’s been coming every time he has the early shift at work just to see you before getting in his cop car.

He’s nice and he makes you smile.

But he’s not Eddie.

It’s an acceptance that came crashing earlier that morning, just days after your encounter with him at the Hideout.

Your curiosity for the dark haired metalhead has become an undeniable attraction.

A crush.

Something that feels so silly as an adult, and yet it’s your reality all the same.

“What do you mean?”

You snap yourself from your thoughts, remembering that Chance is there in his tan uniform, hands on his hips as you walk about the mostly empty coffee shop.

It’s still early.

Barely minutes after opening your doors for the day. Most people don’t come until the morning rush that starts around seven in the morning.

It’s five now.

He steps closer to you, his cup of coffee against the table he’s set it on.

Broad shoulders fill the empty spaces in the room, the outline of his arms visible even in the long sleeves of his uniform.

He’s broader and bigger than Eddie, you think.

Eddie, who is all lithe and less hardened. He reminds you of the way elves are described in his favorite books he’s recently lent you to read.

“You’re the new girl in town. From what I’ve heard, everyone loves you. But you’re still single—what gives?” He leans his elbows against the countertop, dark eyes swooping up to meet yours.

You don’t feel the gentle kick up of your heart, nor the rustle of butterflies in your belly.

“Chance…” Your chest burns at his insinuation, shifting awkwardly on the balls of your feet.

“I’m serious.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, whirling back around to face him. “I guess I just haven’t met the right one.”

It’s been a while since your last relationship, and even then it hadn’t been anything serious.

You’ve always been moving, always on the go, trying new things and never lingering in one place for long enough to try.

You know what he’s about to ask you even before he gets a chance to say it.

And yet your stomach tumbles as he says, “I was thinking…if you’re up for it, we could grab dinner then?”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Chance.”

“Come on now.”

“I have my employees and my business to look after. It’s still so new, I don’t really think I can take time off.”

It’s not a lie, but you know it’s not the best excuse, either.

You haven’t really taken any time for yourself, no; with the business, you’re constantly working on trying new things, making sure your money is on track, payroll is upkept.

And then there’s the cost of supplies and the repairs here and there that you’ve needed done.

“Would you at least think about it?” His eyes are soft and your resolve dissolves a bit, recognizing that it is only one date.

It doesn’t automatically mean there will be more.

It’s an opportunity to try, however.

“You’re my customer.”

His fingers trail along the petals of the flowers you’ve set up in front of the cash register. Pretty, in a bright arrangement of purples, pinks and greens. “Pretty sure everyone in Hawkins is one of your customers.”

“Fine, I'll think about it.” You offer him an easy smile.

He begins walking backwards toward the door, keys in his palm jangling as he grins at you widely and says, “Just two adults out for dinner. Doesn’t have to be anything crazy, just us getting to know each other. Everyone in town knows of you, but I get the feeling that no one really knows you knows you. Was thinking we could change that.”

“I bet you use that one on all the ladies. I told you I’ll think about it,” you reply. “Don't you have to get to work? Writing traffic tickets and all that fun stuff.”

His hand is around the door when he tips his head up and raises a hand to wave. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Bye, Chance.”

Eddie’s head perks up as you come barreling in the front door to the Hideout. It’s a quieter night, as Mondays always are, and he barely has a moment to blink before you’re hopping up onto one of the barstools across from him and tapping your fingers along the tin you cradle close to your body.

He eyes it wearily, tucking some bills away in a cash register.

“I need your opinion,” you say, sliding the tin closer to him.

“What’s up?” He crosses the distance between you two, ringed fingers tapping along the counter.

He’s wearing red today beneath his jacket and you’re pretty sure it’s your favorite color you’ve seen on him yet.

“Try these,” you tell him, not failing to catch the slight wince he makes, “don’t make that face, they’re not poisoned.”

He moves to lift one of the foil corners, glancing in hesitantly with his head tilted back a bit. It’s as if he expects something to jump out at him. “What’s wrong with them then?”

“I can’t make you cookies and expect you to eat them?”

“I don’t want pity cookies.” He shoves them back your way, though there’s no malice in the smile that adorns his lips.

“They are not pity cookies. They’re ‘I'm-trying-a-new-recipe-for-my-shop-and-need-an-unbiased-opinion-cookies.’” You push them closer to him once more. “You’ll tell me they’re crap if they’re crap.”

“How do you know?”

You fix him with a blank stare. “You laugh at my jokes because you hate them, not because they’re funny. Need I say more?”

He doesn’t, because despite his bumbling, there’s one thing you’ve learned about Eddie in these past months: the way to his heart is through his stomach.

The man loves sugar.

You figured as much with his coffee order, and have brought him extra treats from the shop here and there whenever you can.

So it comes as no shock to you when he takes a bite of the cookie and turns away from you to hide the way his dimples immediately pop as a smile blooms across his cheeks. “Oh…oh.”

“Good?”

“Mm.” It’s a hum around a mouthful of food as he puts the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

Yet he’s still not given his answer. Nervousness wells and bubbles.

“Eddie, if they’re garbage tell me they’re garbage. I won’t cry.”

“You cried last week at The Hobbit,” he points out.

“That’s because you didn’t warn me that everyone dies. I walked in blind. Blind.”

“Yeah, but you loved it. You asked me to keep my copy after you finished.”

You had.

And he’s right, because you did love it. You loved even more he’d felt comfortable enough to share something so special to him with you.

“I’m still upset you said no.”

“I’ve had that thing for ages. I’ll never give it away. Just admit you loved it. It’s okay to be wrong about things sometimes.” He’s enjoying himself. You want to wipe the smug look clean from his face.

“All I said was I like books that have love in them.”

“I’d say The Hobbit has love. Maybe not romantic love, but there’s love there.”

“True. Although I’m stuck on Tom Bombadil in The Fellowship of the Ring.”

“I thought you’d enjoy him, seeing as you’re Miss Sunshine around town. It’s what everyone says, at least.”

“And what about you?” you ask. “What do you say?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“You’ve known me for almost three months now. Here I thought we were friends.”

“Are we?” He tips his head to the side.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“I don’t have many of those these days.” He winces at that.

“Well, I have one of those these days.”

His eyes narrow, disbelieving. “That’s bull.”

“Everyone knows me in town, sure, but they don’t know me.”

“Sometimes that’s best,” he admits quietly. “Sometimes that’s safer.”

“Is that how it is for you?”

Him keeping people at arm's length at all times.

Him only going out in the later hours of the day, staying up late into the night.

Him never opening up beyond a certain point, cards always close to his chest.

He goes quiet at your words, and you worry you’ve offended him.

“The cookies are great,” he finally says.

Conversation over.

“I’ll make you more tomorrow.”

“I’d like that.”

There’s another pause.

You can’t hide the fear of his upset, your mouth curling downward.

His eyes slide across your face, and he reaches over to grab another cookie.

A peace offering.

“And for the record, I think we can be friends,” he says.

It really begins as friends.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson post s4 #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x afab!reader

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louloulemons-posts · 11 months

Text

Newts and Water Hyacinths

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Deciding to spend his day with his favourite girl, Eddie goes to her home, but where is she?

Word Count : 1.2K

Warnings : Pure fluff, use of Y/N, potential incorrect information about plants, pet names, reader is basically the child of Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, kisses, Eddie is whipped lol.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Eddie coming over wasn’t a new thing at all, you were friends for a year or so before dating so him being at your home was a common occurrence.

He knocked on the front door before pushing it open and letting himself in. “Honey I’m home,” he called out, chuckling lightly. No response. “Baby? Where are you?”

Wondering through the lounge and the kitchen he couldn’t find the girl he adored so much. Jogging up the stairs, fingers tapping on the bedroom door before he entered.

Cosy and neat-ish, well your neat. Plants all over the room in various sizes and colours, books stacked upon books, notebooks and journals overflowing with drawings and facts about animals and plants, shells and pretty rocks sat on shelves. Not here either.

Eddie tried not to panic but couldn’t really help it, there was only one other place you’d be. He pushed back the nets on your window slightly and sighed with relief.

The small stream sparkling in the days sunlight. Stood in patchwork dungarees, and wellie boots, a smile noticeable from miles away, was you, Eddies favourite person.

Many people couldn’t believe that you and Eddie were dating. His mean and satanic appearance making it seem impossible for him to be with someone so kind and loveable.

But you were one of the few people who saw through Eddies outer layer, saw him for the sweet and gentle boy he really was.

Smiling to himself Eddie headed back down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. Wandering down to the beautiful stream. “Hey Sweetheart!”

Looking up from your crouched position you smiled at the curly haired metal head. “You found me.”

“I’ll always find you. Figured if you weren’t in the house, you’d be here. Found anything.”

Nodding and brushing a stray hair away from your face you picked up a water filled jar that also held a small newt. “Aren’t they cute Eds?” you asked, standing up to show him.

“It’s a red spotted newt, they’re not normally from places like this, so I might take them inside. Get dad to take a look, make sure they’re safe,” as you explained, he watched your brows furrow in slight concern for the creature.

“That’s a real sweet thought, I think it’s a great idea. We might have to get them somewhere a little bigger to stay though,” he suggested, to which you nodded.

Picking up one of your journals from the slightly damp grass, you passed the jar to Eddie. Climbing from the steam a ramble began, “I drew a couple of water hyacinths too, which isn’t great, I’ll have to tell mom. They can be really invasive, they’re actually a hazard for boats and grow really quickly!”

“Is that right?” Eddie said, sliding his hand into your free one, holding the jar with their newt buddy in the other. “Mhm it’s real pretty Ed’s but so dangerous!”

“Like you?”

“Me?!” your eyes widening as you looked at the boy.

“Yeah baby, just like you. So pretty, but you’re almost like a siren!”

“How?”

“Everyone just loves you. All wanna be your friends, or more. You have to let them all down easy cause you’ve got your bunch already.”

Nodding in agreement, “‘M not dangerous though Eds.”

“With eyes as pretty as those baby, you could make anyone do anything you wish. Trust me I know.”

“You know Ovid said that Sirens were friends of the Goddess Persephone, they were turned into monsters when Hades abducted her.”

“How do you keep all that knowledge in that head?”

“Dunno. It’s nothing useful though,” you shrugged. Motioning to the bench near the back door Eddie placed the jar down, “Sit.”

You complied. “Its interesting though, and some people will think it’s useful, depends who you talk too.” He squatted down, gently taking you boot covered foot in hand.

“Hm, maybe.”

“Definitely, do you know how much I hear Henderson praising you and saying how cool you are for knowing all this stuff. Even Sinclair Junior thinks it’s awesome and nothing impresses her,” he laughed, pulling the red boot off and placing it next to the bench to dry.

Wiggling your toes, Eddie smiled at your multicoloured thick socks. “Erica’s a sweetheart.”

“So are you, saving that newt, saving the steam from those flowers, saving me from being a lonely old grump.”

That did make you laugh, as he pulled off the other boot you spoke, “You’d never end up alone, so many people love you. Including me.”

“Yeah? You love me?” he grinned, it wasn’t a phrase you’d really said to him before.

“Yeah Eds, I love you a lot. Favourite person and all. Only person who I share everything with.”

“I love you too, and thank you for that, love your rambles. Love everything about you sweet girl.”

Standing up his full height he took her hands, “Careful, climb up on the bench, don’t want you dirtying your socks.” Slowly standing up, keeping your hands in Eddies, now taller than him.

Leaning down you softly pressed your lips to his plush ones, arms wrapping round his neck and legs around his waist. Pulling away you spoke, “Don’t drop me.”

“Never,” he stated, pecking your lips again.

“I’ll come back for you in a sec buddy,” he said to the orange amphibian in the glass jar. Placing you down on the counter, Eddie could only beam at you, pushing falling strands of hair behind your ears he kissed you once more.

It was always something that made your heart feel like it’d come out of your chest. Fingers running through the curls at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly so he’d know not to stop.

If you didn’t have to breathe, you’d never let him stop, never ever. Would kiss him for the rest of time. Breaking away with a chuckle, Eddie rubbed his thumb on your rosy cheeks, kissing there too.

“You go and find a bigger home for our friend and I’ll go fetch ‘em and your journal, okay?” Words weren’t working for you at the minute, mind still racing from the kiss, so nodding would have to do.

Jumping down from the counter gently, you rummaged though the cupboards for a suitable waiting space. Perfect an old fish bowl, “Hey Eds we’ll have to make a trip back down to the stream,” you called out.

“Why’s that?” head popping round the door, and placing the jar and book on the side, Eddie wandered over. “Need the water, don’t want the little guy to get sick. Too much change can’t be good.”

“I’ll go, you stay put,” kissing your cheek once more, he grabbed the fish bowl and wandered away. Watching him walk down the garden, you couldn’t help but think how lucky you were.

Having someone so kind, so considerate, a great friend, and even better boyfriend, just someone who you never had to pretend with. You could just be Y/N and he could just be Eddie. And that was perfect for you.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you for reading, please leave any requests 🤍

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

Text

The biggest, brightest, gaudiest display in all of Indiana

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 5

Prompt: domestic fluff

Rated: G

CW: one slight mention of PTSD

Tags: Post Vecna; everybody lives; pining; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Christmas

It's starting to snow by the time Steve gets home, white flakes floating in the headlights of the beemer like balls of cotton. It crunches under his feet as he sloshes towards the front door.

Even with Christmas more than two weeks away, they've been swamped with customers lately, the cold wind and unending snowfalls luring people inside. Now, away from the buzz, the world seems quiet. Peaceful, covered under its white blanket.

Except Steve still hasn't learned to trust that peace. Even after more than a year, even with El assuring them time and again that it's over, they've won, … he still flinches at sounds in the night, looks for escape routes and things to fashion into weapons when entering a room. He isn't sure he'll ever stop.

He shakes his head to chase away the thoughts as he scales the steps to the front porch. He isn’t sure where they're coming from. Probably a combination of stress and the looming depression that always hangs over him at Christmas time, when all of his friends are with their families and he's left in this big, empty house, alone. He’ll take a shower, heat a microwave meal, and see what's on TV, that will-

The front door is unlocked.

He's certain he turned the key not once, but twice before he left.

Steve slides into the dark entrance hall on silent feet. He passes the umbrella stand, eyes scanning his surroundings, and his hand finds the hilt of the nail bat. There's a creak from overhead, like feet on floorboards.

The attic.

The hatch is gaping open as he creeps upstairs, the foldout ladder down.

He holds his breath and inches his way upwards, rung by rung, bat clutched in one white-knuckled hand.

"Hello, Steven," growls a voice, and he abruptly comes face-to-face with a grimace full of too-large teeth.

Steve yelps, slips on the ladder, and goes sprawling on his ass. The nail bat rolls off into the shadows.

"Oh, shit!" Another face appears behind the monster. One haloed in a mane of dark curls and crowned by a fuzzy Santa hat. "You okay, man?"

"Fuck," Steve curses, clambering to his feet and rubbing at his sore butt. "Eddie? What are you doing up there?"

Eddie rolls his eyes and flashes him a toothy grin. It tugs at the scar on his jaw, the one he claims looks totally metal but hides under his hair most of the time. The one that Steve wants to map with his lips.

"Picking up that drill Wayne wanted to borrow. Told you I'd swing by after my shift at the garage."

Steve settles down on the dusty floorboards and frowns. "Wasn't that at noon or something?"

Like he doesn’t know. Like he hasn't memorized all of Eddie’s shifts. Only stopped dropping him off and picking him up every day because Eddie told him to stop. No satanic panic mobs left, no need for a bodyguard.

Eddie cocks his head in confusion and glances at his watch. "Why, what time is i- … whoops. Guess I got side-tracked."

He shakes the monster- which, upon closer inspection, turns out to be a life-sized nutcracker. Its red-cheeked, too-wide smile mocks him and Steve just barely manages to not flip it off.

Instead, he looks over the cardboard boxes around Eddie, all in various states of unpacked-ness. String lights coiled in thick tangles, dusty elves and reindeer and sugar canes.

"Dude," Eddie says. He's pulled several colorful baubles from somewhere and is looping the strings over his ears. It looks ridiculous. It looks adorable. "You never told me you're hiding Santa's village up here."

"Didn’t even know we still had this," Steve mumbles, pulling the nearest box closer. It contains the huge neon letters spelling MERRY XMAS. "It's been forever since we got them out. Way before-"

He trails off. The words hang unspoken in the stale air.

"I always wanted this, y’know?" Eddie says. His fingers are tracing Rudolph's shiny nose. "The whole shebang with the lights and the decorations and the music. Only so much you can do at the trailer."

Steve hums vaguely, watches the way Eddie’s eyes crinkle, how the tip of the Santa hat flops into his face, and represses the urge to brush it back, trace those dimples with the pads of his thumbs.

Eddie is looking at him with big, expectant cow eyes.

"Huh?"

"I said," Eddie repeats, sways into his space. "We should totally do it. Get all this stuff out. The biggest, brightest, gaudiest display in all of Indiana."

Steve bites back a laugh, ignores how his stomach flutters at Eddie’s huge, excited grin.

"I dunno. Sounds like a lot of work for just me."

"Yeah, about that …" Eddie’s smile dims and his gaze drops. "I've been meaning to ask …"

He starts to pick at his cuticles, so Steve habitually reaches for one of his hands to stop him.

"Ask what?"

Eddie sucks in a breath, and the next words rush out on the exhale, all at once.

"So Wayne sort of took the holiday shifts because a guy got sick, so it'll just be me, and I thought …since you'll also be … alone, y'know, maybe we could …"

"Eds," Steve says. The flutter in his stomach is turning into a hurricane. "Are you asking if I wanna spend Christmas together?"

"What? Nah!" Eddie winks at him. "As if you'd deny me, please! I'm asking if we can get your ridiculous light show out."

Steve snorts a laugh, chest warm and tingly and bright. "What, all of it?"

"Hell yes, all of it," Eddie throws his head back and cackles, almost losing the hat. "It's gonna be our year, big boy!"

They stay up in the attic for a long time, bickering and joking and unpacking boxes upon boxes of sparkly decor. Outside, the snow continues to fall.

Steve hopes they'll get a white Christmas.

Part 2

All of my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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student-in-nightraven · 2 years

Note

innocent mc cusses pls brothers react ong 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 if you already done this Send link miso

Swearing Infront of the brothers for the first time

Warning: swear words

-. -.

The brothers never heard MC cuss which lead them to wonder if they even knew atleast one swear word, they got their answer on a particularly chaotic day in the house of lamentation.

"GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY MAMMOOOON"leviathan yelled as he reached he's hand out to grab mammon but failed miserably as mammon fastened he's pace, he was the fastest brother after all. "FOR THE LAST TIME I DON'T HAVE IT YA GEEK"he spat as he ran down the stairs, the chase was never ending, besides the two elders causing havoc mc was talking to s4tan about the new book they were reading "I see, sorry to inform you MC but I've already read that one, but if you want I can recommend you a book?" "no it's fine I got some other stuff I wanna read,I just have this main goal to find a book that you haven't read yet" mc said half joking, s4tan chuckled " well I wish you luck for that MC tho I highly doubt you'll be able to achieve that goal using books that are in the Devildom, you should give human realm books a try instead" he replied smiling, MC nodded "that reminds me! Do you know Jane Eyre?" MC asked satan shook he's head raising a brow "no I haven't, what's it about?" "Oh it's amazing I actually have it in my bag I'll go get it" MC said excitedly rushing to their room, although before they even got the chance to leave the common room it happened so that in that same exact moment mammon was running to that room and bumped into MC, along with mammon so did Leviathan, MC fell backwards while the two demons fell onto their stomach "FFFFFUCKING HELL" MC yelled and the room went silent, mammon now wide eyed staring at MC along with Leviathan as if they've seen a ghost, satan in the corner mouth agape and asmodeus who happened to be in the same room painting he's nails gasping, beel dropped he's food from he's mouth and belphie who was asleep on the couch fell off staring at you "ARE YOU GONNA GET OFF OR DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE THE SECOND TIME?" They yelled at mammon kicking him off " A-a right sorry but uhh" "D..dd did you just swear?!-" levi managed to stutter out. "I think my organs moved places" belphie tried he's best to hold back he's laugh at that comment "MC DEAR OH NO HOW ARE YOU FEELING ARE YOU NAUSEOUS? DO YOU NEED AN AMBULANCE?" Asmo asked rushing to your side in a panic "nope. I think I'm alive for now but thanks" they wheezed out trying to regulate their breathing "what in the Devildom is going on in here?" Lucifer asked as he entered the room and after explaining everything and making sure your okay he returned to scolding mammon "ME? YOUR SCOLDING MEEE?! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THEY WERE RIGHT THERE?? ALSO ARE WE GONNA IGNORE THE FACT THAT THEY CUSSED?!" "Now what are you talking about mammon?" "What? I just said fuck it's not a big dea- *GAAAAASP* "SEE THEY DID IT AGAIN" mammon yelled Lucifer shocked looked your way "why are all of you so surprised?? Just because I don't swear often doesn't mean I don't cuss jeez.." "waking up was so worth it" belphie said as he went back to sleep and beel tried to scrape the food off of the floor which he dropped earlier. "Can't believe you guys were THAT surprised, I'm gonna go get the book before I get another concussion"

"Mammon get under the ceiling it's time to hang" "NOOOO"

The end

A/n this is the first time I actually wrote a fic instead of a hc or a hc mixed with a fic so if it sucks I'm sorry :') THANK YOU FOR THE REQUESTT

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fluff #obey me crack #obey me mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Can Anybody See Me? Part 11

This one is a bit angsty. Steve has a panic attack, so if that bothers you, you can skip it. It’s just a soft interlude with Eddie and Steve. And of course a bit recreational drug use. Also every school needs an urban legend or ghost story.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Steve loved drama and the play. He did not love his pottery class. The teacher Mr Lovett had taken an instant dislike to the fact that Steve had joined his class half way through the first semester and therefore missed all the fundamentals.

And worse Mrs Hall refused to let him change it at the start of the new semester. So he was stuck in a class he knew nothing about, where the teacher hated him, the other students ignored him, and he was pretty sure he was failing.

“Look,” Steve told Mrs Hall. “I just want to know if I fail pottery if I’m still going to graduate. That’s it and then I will be out of your hair until graduation. I swear it.”

Mrs Hall sighed and went looking through her file on him, clicking her tongue as she thumbed through his transcripts.

“If pass all your other classes and get above a C+ in drama, you should still graduate,” she said after several minutes of cold silence.

Steve sighed in relief. Those involved with the play were given automatic passing grades, so as long he did the other assignments, he was on track to graduate.

“Thank you, Mrs Hall.”

He stood up and began to walk to the door when she called out to him.

“Mr Harrington,” Mrs Hall said, “I know boys will do whatever they want, but please stay away from Edmond Munson. That boy and his little cult of Satanic worshiping D&D lovers will only cause you further ostracization of your peers.”

Steve blinked. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but before Eddie took me under his wing, I was friendless and alone”

Mrs Hall tutted. “Better to be friendless and alone than to be caught up in a cult.”

He frowned in confusion and hurt. “Are you going to tell my parents?”

“I should,” she sneered. “But I could get into a lot of trouble if I do, so I will stay out of it. You only have a few more months of school anyway. But know that I will keep my eyes on you.” She wagged her finger at him and then shooed him away.

Steve ran to the bathroom and slammed the stall door shut. He forced himself to breathe like Eddie taught him, but he couldn’t get his breath under control. He heard someone enter and start pissing.

Steve tried to keep quiet but his breathing made it hard. There was the sound of running water and suddenly he couldn’t hear anything else. It was like water rushing around his head. He let out a strangled cry, thinking that whoever was out there had gone.

But he was wrong.

“Hey, is there someone in here?” Eddie asked.

Steve let out another sob but this time in relief.

“Steve?” Eddie whispered.

He tried to get a word out, but all that came was wordless gurgling.

“Shit!”

Steve could hear Eddie run out the door and the relief he felt crumbled to dust. He started sobbing and couldn’t stop.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice came again. “Hey, sweetheart, can you open the door for me?”

Steve struggled for a moment or two before he managed to get the door latch free for the door swing open. He stumbled out, right into Eddie’s arms.

Eddie managed to keep them upright but barely. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

Steve shook his head.

“Hey, hey,” Eddie cooed. “I’ve gotcha, big boy.” He led them over them to sit on the floor.

“Aren’t you worried someone’s gonna come in?” Steve asked after a moment of just sitting in silence.

“Nah!” Eddie said with a grin. “I put out the ‘Out of Order’ sign. We’ll be good for a while.”

Steve frowned for a moment. “So that’s where you ran off to.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow and then the other shot up to join it. “Did you think that I ran out on you?”

Steve curled in on himself. “Everyone else does.”

“Except your kids,” Eddie pointed out. “And except me. Okay?” He put his arm around him and drew him close. “You want to talk about what happened just now?”

“I had my meeting with Mrs Hall,” Steve mumbled.

“Yeah?” Eddie said. “She let you out of pottery?”

Steve shook his head. “She still refuses. I think she’s in cahoots with Mr Lovett to my senior year as miserable as possible.”

Eddie tucked Steve’s head under his chin. “That’s just bullshit, sweetheart. I’m sorry this year has been so bad for you.”

Steve was quiet for a moment. He raised his head to look Eddie in the eye. “And then she had the gall to suggest that being friends with you was worse than being alone.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “She did what?”

Steve nodded. “If it didn’t mean detention and the possibility of not being able to graduate on time, I would have told her fuck off.”

Eddie kissed the top of Steve’s head. “I am a bad influence on you, you know.”

Steve chuckled. “Don’t care. I think you and your friends were the first people to like me for me instead of the Harrington name.”

Eddie grinned. “What the matter, Stevie? Don’t like being a Harrington?”

He shook his head. “Hell no, I’d change if I could.”

“How about Munson?” Eddie teased.

Steve laughed out right. “I think you skipped twelve steps there. At least buy me dinner first.”

Eddie blushed as Steve lowered his head on his shoulder and sighed.

“I should get back to class,” he murmured, “but I don’t think I can face other people right now.”

“So don’t,” Eddie said, standing up. He pulled Steve to his feet. “Come on, you and I are playing hooky!”

“Eddie!” Steve laughed, but let him pull him along.

They got out to Eddie’s van, breathless and giggling.

“Where to?” Steve asked as he yanked open the passenger side door.

Eddie just grinned. “I know just the place.”

They started driving and Steve could feel the weight of the world lift from his shoulders the farther they got from the high school.

“Thanks for the assist, Eds,” he said softly. “It’s nice knowing people care.”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t thank me for being a decent human being, man. It’s embarrassing.”

Steve laughed. “Still a nice feeling.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence. They got out to Lover’s Lake and to a nice boat house.

“I know the owner,” Eddie said. “So sometimes I like to come out here and think. Just look at the water and let it take away all my troubles.”

Steve sat there and listened to the wind on the water.

Eddie pulled out a pack of cigarettes from somewhere. “You smoke?”

Steve nodded and took one off of him.

Eddie patted his coat and pants, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Shit. I think I left my lighter out in the van.”

Steve dug into his pocket and pulled out his Zippo. He lit Eddie’s cigarette first and then his own.

“Thanks, man,” Eddie said.

Steve shrugged. “Not a problem. You provided the smoke, I provided the light.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Fair enough.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a while.

“You know, it’s forced conformity that made Mrs Hall who she is,” Eddie said.

“What’s that?” Steve asked.

“You must have missed some of my table rants, then.”

Steve shook his head. “I try not stare at pretty boys when they’re drawing attention to themselves. It makes the whole not straight thing a little more obvious. Especially since that was something I knew wasn’t what straight boys did.”

Eddie leaned into his space. “You think I’m pretty, Harrington?”

Steve fobbed him off with his elbow. “You know you are, man. You don’t need me to say it.”

“Joke’s on you, pretty boy,” Eddie cooed. “Flattery works on me.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. “Duly noted.”

Eddie cackled.

After they finished their cigarettes, Eddie went digging around the boat house.

“Ah ha!” he said triumphantly, holding up a bag of weed. “You partake, Stevie?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I have been to a Tommy H party at least once or twice in my life.”

“Ahhh...” Eddie sighed happily. “One of my best customers.”

Steve giggled. “You got any papers to roll or are we just going to light it on fire and try to get high on the fumes?”

Eddie laughed. He tossed Steve the bag and continued to dig around some more. He pulled out another prize with a “Eureka!”

He shows the bong to Steve with a feral grin.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said a startled laugh. “That works.”

They passed it back and forth, slowly getting high.

“So what’s forced conformity?” Steve asked after a few minutes.

Eddie hummed and then said, “Oh. It’s this theory I have. Parents, teachers, school counselors trying to force kids into specific boxes. Skinny, scrably kid? Must be a nerd and likes science. Only the kid hates science and math. Maybe he likes art and music. Something that schools are always trying to get rid of by the way. When there are budget cuts, those are always, always the first to be axed.

“Music is also something that is hotly contested. Don’t talk about sex or drugs or even feeling sad, really. Stay in the correct societal lines. No jazz or rock or metal. Just country or pop. Even though those two genres would be nothing without the jazz or blues. Black people’s music...”

Eddie continued to rant as Steve watched him wave his hands around in obvious enthusiasm.

“Does that make sense?” he said after a long time.

Steve who had been mildly buzzed throughout the whole thing nodded. “I think so. And I think...” he frowned. He looked up at Eddie with shining eyes and quivering lip. “I don’t know what I am. Sexually, I mean.”

Eddie sat up. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. You clearly are attracted to men. Does that mean that you aren’t attracted to women? Not necessarily. Like Marty likes both, but he prefers men. Uh...another person I know. They don’t go here obviously. But they prefer women. But every once in a while, they find a man that lights up their world and they go for it.” He huffed out a laugh. “Despite what the name suggests, bisexuality isn’t 50/50.”

Steve frowned. “Huh. Okay. That gives more to think about.”

Eddie shook his head. “You’re still in high school, dude. You have your whole life to figure this out.”

Steve’s answering smile was effervescent. “Thanks, Eds. For all of this today. I just needed to get out of my head for awhile.”

Eddie gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “Any time, Stevie.” He stood up and dusted himself off. “Come on, I should get you back to the school to pick up your car.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, otherwise the auto-body club will strip it for parts and leave it on concrete blocks by morning.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“It’s true!” Steve protested as he got up to follow him.

“It’s really not,” Eddie said. “It’s an urban legend.”

“Come on...” Steve said.

Eddie just shook his head and led them back to civilization.

Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites @garden-of-gay @anaibis @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @jinxjinn @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @dangdirtydemons @lovelyscot @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #canon divergence #the boy with the bat #ladykailtiha writes

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