#if Eddie isn’t being chaotic is he really Eddie? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inklore · 2 years

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laur <3 i just wanted to say i love your blog so much! i was wondering: do you have any eddie headcanons that you think about a lot or have wanted to share with us? i always love reading other people’s headcanons. i hope you have a great weekend :)

you’re too sweet, lovey!!! i have a dozen different thoughts and headcanons when it comes to this boy so these are literally all over the place lmao.

tw: eighteen+ content, references to sex, criminal activity, drugs, parental issues.

he writes on the back of his hands when he needs to remember something: an idea for a campaign, a deal he needs to make later, anything but homework assignments

doesn’t carry a backpack, either finishes his work at school or doesn’t do it at all, never takes work home with him

is incredibly smart, can do math all in his head (he’s a drug dealer ok he’s hella good at it), just doesn’t have that academic incline to be smart in school/struggles in that aspect because he doesn’t care about what he’s being taught

has several fantasy novels scattered around his room, in drawers, in stacks on the floor, with writing in the margins: ‘campaign? henderson would love this!’

his dad is in jail for criminal activity (some of which he taught eddie), his mother left him when he was still little and he hasn’t heard from her since—but who doesn’t care, fuck it, having shitty parents builds character right???

his uncle is the only father figure he really counts in his life (but he still has a touch of the mommy and daddy issues, doesn’t want to turn out like either of them)

would definitely become a mechanic after graduating, or some easy job he’d excel in. but would still try to make it big with his band, would never give up that dream

joseph said that when eddie finds out someone loves him he doesn’t know how to take it/kind of thinks he doesn’t deserve it etc, which makes sense with his family issues, but also means (in my head) that when he finds someone who he shares those equally intense ‘love’ feelings for he’s literally the biggest simp

i’m talking constant mixtapes, letting you touch his guitar (no one touches her!!), play with his hair, lends you his favorite book only because he wants to see your face light up from enjoying it (but is hella nervous you might dislike it), lends you his band shirts because he loves watching you walk around in them (and only them), let’s you play your pop music in the van (will fake grumble about it but loves to watch you dance and sing along, and oh wow are his fingers drumming to the beat?? is he singing along?? no no of course not…)

he’d even let you design one of his tattoos. like he’s literally so smitten he never stops smiling or trying to please and make you happy, hes literally a ‘once i’ve fallen in love that it’s you’re the one forever’ type

i think it’s hard for him to express his feelings so he does it with humor/chaotic behavior/cynical outlooks, since he wasn’t raised by overly passionate and loving parents (literally hesitates a little during hugs because he’s not used to them but loves them, secretly of course)

he’s tried the hard stuff (drugs) once and that was enough for him, isn’t really into anything other than weed and cigarettes, still holds onto it though just in case he can make a sale from it

will put on eyeliner for gigs and gigs only!!

and as cute as he looks with his hair up he would never be caught dead with it up in a pony, unless you batted those cute eyes of course, then maybe, just maybe. only around the house! but he doesn’t like it!!

he’s not the best cook but he’s learned this trick to make microwaveable dinners taste better than they should; says he was high one night and the magic just happened, that it’s his secret recipe he uses (literally just seasoning, or a couple handfuls of shredded cheese)

doesn’t like hard liquor, strictly beer!

only goes to parties to sell to people, other than that he would rather take an arrow to the foot than go to them

when there’s a song he wants to learn he will hold himself up in his room for days, you or wayne literally have to drag him out or force feed him because he has a one track mind, neeeds to get it done, neeeds to learn it (our boy has intense hyper-fixations)

fiddles with his rings when he’s thinking or nervous + sticks his tongue when he’s in deep concentration + messes with strands of his hair when he’s trying to flirt

isn’t super clingy in the sense that he needs to be always touching you, but constantly catches your eye/is caught staring at you, or checking in with you, or playing with your fingers (loves when you play with his rings!!!), or tickling you, or tackling you down on his bed

can’t just give you one kiss, has to press a dozen to your cheek and neck always

isn’t a tit or ass man, loves it all, all of you, every part

loves to please, i’m talking will spend hours…doing things….in the name of pleasure for you

his fav position is any he can see your face, your expressions, can lock eyes with you, see that you’re enjoying it; missionary, or you on top

loves assurance, needs it, craves it in any and all aspects of the word, as much as he hates to admit it

has the biggest heart, hates to show it more often than not but once you’re his: friend, partner, what have you, he’s got you for life, cares about you immensely

doesn’t have a selfish bone in his body

but does have a jealous one and sometimes anger slips into there because he hates the things he gets jealous over

princess, beautiful, sweetheart, and babe (very rarely used), honey when he’s being a little shit, are the only pet names he uses or will ever use!!!

bi bi bi biiiiiiii

has big switch energy, but is the softest!dom you’ll ever meet, and i use the word dom very loosely here

never knows where to put his hands during any sexual act, always wants to touch everywhere and anywhere you’ll let him

talks a lot during, like he’s definitely a fan of lazy high sex that’s filled with a few giggles and weird things being spoken but it never takes the two of you out of it

loves kissing!!!!!

a few kinks i think he’d have: hair pulling, biting, dry humping, marking (with his mouth or a tattoo gun), light choking, voyeurism, a touch of corruption

would literally cream in his pants to see you wearing one of his rings as a necklace

if you bought him something he’d literally treasure it like it was an irreplaceable artifact

he’s literally so patient and encouraging when it comes to teaching anyone anything

loves cheesy ass jokes even if he’ll give you a deadpan look while you’re delivering it

is and will forever be a kid at heart

literally would be the adult playing hide n seek with the trailer park kids

loves proving people wrong (respectfully)

not a morning person, has been late to class so many times because of it. will wrap himself around you in the morning to stop you from getting up

smokes after sex, that good ol after sex cigarette

before he moved in with wayne, wayne was a truck driver which is why all the mugs and hats decorate the living room wall. and a way they bonded when eddie first came to live with him was: he would pick a new mug each day to ask wayne about and he would share his traveling adventures with him

like i said his dad taught him some criminal activity: hotwiring, picking locks, siphoning gas, how to pickpocket, insurance fraud

would tell the best scary stories on the camping trip

can barely grow chest hair

#eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb

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justmeinadaze · 8 months

Text

Ghost in the Machine Part 2 (Eddie X You)

A/N: It seems I need Daddy Eddie lately <3

Warnings: Daddy Rockstar Eddie and Fem Stripper Sub Reader, SMUT, degrading, dirty talk, FLUFF, ANGST, reader mentions that she doesn't talk with her parents, fears about releasing control, Eddie doesn't push her (He's a sweet boy), mentions of their jobs and the negatives. Nothing too dramatic in this one.

They do have a text conversation in the beginning and Eddie's is in red.

Word Count 4511

Part 1 Here

“Good morning, pretty girl. Or afternoon rather. I don’t know. All I know is I’m up.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to say I hope you have a good day and we should be finished by about 7. See you later!”

You smile at the messages Eddie had sent you wondering if you should reply. You didn’t want to seem too eager but you didn’t want him to think you didn’t care.

Ugh! What is it about this man that is making me think shit like this?

Throwing your phone aside, you decide to not respond and go about your day like you normally would. The problem was you didn’t have anything to do. After taking a shower and making lunch you found yourself sitting on your couch zoning out as you scrolled through the tv. After a while you gave up, throwing the remote on the table, and grabbing your laptop.

I shouldn’t look him up. We’re going to talk later and what’s online probably isn’t all true anyway.

Sighing, you guiltily type his name in the search bar and browse what comes up.

As to be expected, a lot of information about Corroded Coffin came up first. You skimmed through regular bio pieces about how they formed and how excited they were when their first single became popular. A few had videos attached that you played, watching how Eddie behaved. He was slightly reserved during each interview, trying not to sound nervous as he spoke. When you found some videos with fans, however, his whole demeanor changed. He became so much more animated and smiled wide as he talked to people especially little kids who had on Corroded Coffin t-shirts.

There were a few tabloid reports about actresses he supposedly dated or slept with. One article had a blinding white light flash in his face as he tried to shoo away the people taking the photo. One of the articles had a video of him being thrown into a cop car, sticking out his tongue as they drove away.

Is this who he really is?

You began feeling yourself get antsy forcing you to click away from articles like that and scroll through his social media. It looks like the only thing he had was an Instagram he barely used however a lot of the pictures he did have made you smile. There was one fairly recently with him standing next to an older gentleman who was wearing a shirt with their band name as they both stood backstage at what you assumed was one of their concerts. Eddie was holding up the rock & roll symbol as the other man was mid laugh.

Your phone suddenly dinged as a message came through.

“Hey sweetheart. We’re taking a little break here but we’re almost done so I should be there in about an hour or so. Is that ok?”

“Yeah, Eddie. No problem.”

Closing your device, you began to get ready for your visit from a famous rockstar.

#####

Eddie smiled wide as you giggled at his story about the shoot. When he showed up, his hair was relatively styled and he was wearing some light make up they put on him. While you two ate the food he brought, he regaled you with stories of other photo shoots that had been way more chaotic as well as some stories from the road.

He did make a mental note that you didn’t respond with stories of your own or even say anything really. You continued to grin as you sat there nodding your head and intently listening in as you hung on to his every word.

“Well, sweetheart, as much as I enjoy talking about myself, I’d love to know a bit more about you.”

“Oh, there isn’t much to tell.”

His eyes scanned over you as you took a sip of your drink, avoiding his gaze. “Why do I doubt that?”

“Good question because you shouldn’t.” The metalhead tilts his head to your remark, relishing your sassy tone. “Honestly, there isn’t much to me. I moved here, I strip. I’m broke so I signed up for the ‘side business’ and now I’m here.”

“Mhmm and before you moved here?”

“I lived somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“None of your fucking business.”

This time Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he glared in your direction. Sass, he loved, but out right disrespect was something completely different.

“Look at me. I said look at me, little girl!” His voice raised as you turned away from him at his first request. “I can handle your attitude but you will treat me with respect and not fucking talk to me like that. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”, you sneer through clenched teeth.

He weighs the options of forcing you to say it correctly. You weren’t technically his yet but you had let it flow so freely from your lips last night that he considered giving you a bit more of a taste of what a relationship with him would be like or at least the kind he preferred.

“Good.”, Eddie exhales. “Y/N, I’m not trying to pry but I’m not one of your clients or whatever. I genuinely just want to learn more about you.” He notices you soften slightly so he jumps on the opportunity. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a game.”

“Game?”

“Yeah, a game. Think of it like twenty questions. I imagine you did some snooping today before I came over which I also assume has you wanting to ask some questions of your own. Ask me anything you want and I swear I’ll answer but in return I would like you to do the same.”

When your eyes find his chocolate ones again, you can’t help but smile at him. He seemed so sincere and you already told him you struggle with releasing control like that so you thought he would know how to guide you through while getting you to slowly open up. You finally nod and his grin grows.

“Ladies first.”

“Oh, I feel special.”, you smirk. “Ok, um, on your Instagram there’s a picture of you backstage with an older man. Is that your dad?”

Eddie blinks as he scoots a little closer to you. “Interesting. Before I answer, may I ask why out of all the questions, THAT is your first one?”

“You seemed different next to him, happier. It made me the most curious.”

“Fair enough. Wayne was very much like a dad but he’s my uncle. He raised me for a good chunk of my life.” He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Do you get along with your family?”

“Define ‘family’.”

“How about we stick with mom and dad for now?”

Swallowing, you push down the urge to tell him to fuck off. “My parents and I haven’t talked in a very long time.”

He nods before taking a sip of the beer in his hand. “Yeah, I know how you feel.”

Eddie’s eyes briefly flash that same glint of loneliness you noticed after he gave you his phone to put your number in. Your brain runs through multiple topics to ask, fearing that if you stay on your current one, he’ll want to dig more into your history or he’ll continue to be hurt by his own.

“Your turn, sweetheart.”

“I’m scared.”

His eyes immediately locked with yours as he searched with concern. “Of me?”

“No. I told you last night I struggle with letting go of control. A lot of my history…my life…I’ve kept to myself and never really talked about it. I get the vibe that your kind of the same. I don’t want you to be hurt or force yourself to tell me things.”

Eddie turns his body a bit more to face you as he speaks. “Y/N, you’re right. I don’t go around talking about my history because it’s not something people need to know especially since 99% of the people that walk into my life walk right back out again. But…I don’t know, baby. Maybe I’m just really hoping you’ll stay.”

You pleasantly sighed at his last sentence and he smiled in your direction.

“How about this? How about we talk shop. I tell you what I’m looking for in a relationship and vice versa.”

“Can we still do the questions? Because I have a few there.” Eddie’s grin grows as he nods. “You said you want to talk care of me. What exactly would that entail?”

“Everything, I guess. I want to talk with you about things like our days or anything really. I want you to feel comfortable being open with me not just emotionally and mentally but physically. I want to kiss you till your lips are numb. I want to make you cum till you beg me to stop and then some. I really want to handcuff you to my mattress and fuck your tight little pussy till you can’t walk straight.”

Your eyes closed as you tried to control your breathing.

“Was that too much?”

“No, no. I, um, so this wouldn’t be…intimate?”

Eddie blinked again as his head tilted. “Define intimate.”

“Are you going to get jealous about men at my job?”

“Are you when it comes to mine and other women?” You shake your head and he nods. “No I won’t get jealous but I want you to know that…you at least don’t have to do that ‘side business’ anymore. I can help you if you need money for anything.”

“Eddie, I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

“How about you think about it this way? Instead of fucking multiple men, you’ll only be fucking me. I can give you however much you usually make in a night and then some.”

It’s your turn to nod as you push some hair back behind your ear.

“Is there anything you don’t like, Y/N? Something I should steer clear of.”

“Don’t…hurt me. I mean I like it rough but not too rough you know?”

“Gotcha. So no canes, flogs, or any of that other stuff?”, he playfully smiles.

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“What?! Pretty girl like you in your field doesn’t know about that side of the BDSM spectrum?”, he asks in a lighthearted tone making you laugh.

“What about you? Anything I should avoid?”

“A couple. One I’m a little steadfast on, the other has some wiggle room.” Eddie takes a sip from his drink before placing it on your coffee table. “I, um, I struggle with being touched. I spend so much time getting grabbed on day in and day out sometimes I just need a minute.”

“I understand that.” His eyes shift to you as he watches you speak. “I mean, obviously, as a stripper men think I’m free reign. When I have a bad day or something I just need people to go away. Can you let me know? Like whenever we see each other, if you don’t want to be touched just tell me and I can fuck off.”

Eddie laughs at your choice of words and it makes your smile widen. You liked his tooth filled laugh; it seemed genuine.

“Of course. But I expect you to do the same.”, he scolds with joke filled eyes.

“Yes, sir.”, you giggle. “What was the other thing?”

“Disrespect. I can handle sass but disrespect…”

“Define disrespect.”

“The way you answered me before. ‘None of your fucking business’.”, he mimicked making you blush. “I don’t like that. Don’t talk down to me either.”

“Aw, poor rockstar. You don’t like being talked down to or put in your place?” You knew what you were doing and so did he. When he glanced your way again, you could see the fire. It wasn’t necessarily angry but more like he was amused. Now if this is what that looks like, you’d hate to see fury because his beautiful brown eyes were currently burning holes into your own.

“I don’t know, whore. Do you?” Your mouth fell open at his response as he slung his arm over the back of your couch and scoot so close to you that his knee was touching yours. “I’m not like the other men you fuck, Y/N. I’m not going to throw a tantrum because you talk back or leave because you hurt my feelings. I have no problem playing your game and putting you in your place.”

“Said the man who struggles with ‘disrespect’.” You say the last word in a deep, sarcastic dad tone as you grin wickedly in his direction. The chuckle that leaves his lips, however, startles you as he looks away and runs his hand over his shirt, pretending to straighten it.

“Oh, baby. I can’t wait for you realize sentences like that have consequences.” Eddie continues to look anywhere else that isn’t your face and it kills you. You desperately want his attention again. “You said nothing too rough but what about things like choking or hitting?”

“I don’t mind either. The, um, the way you choked me last night was okay.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“No. I’ve never done this before.”

“Ok, we can utilize the stop light system. If I ask you what color you’re at, green is good, yellow is slow down, and red is stop. Just say red if you feel uncomfortable.”

“Alright, Eddie.” You growl in frustration as his eyes remain downcast. “Eddie? Please… can you look at me?”

“Oh? Little girl wants my attention? After being a brat a moment ago, I don’t think you deserve it.”

Your instinct is to touch his chest and curl up on his lap, cooing in your high pitch voice you use on the job to get him to do what you want but after his confession about being touched you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Plus, you have a feeling your normal tactics won’t work on him here.

Sliding onto the floor, you place yourself on your knees next to his leg.

“Please, Daddy.”

Eddie’s chest deflated as his eyes closed, trying to hide the pleasure hearing you say that gives him. When he opens them again, they meet your big doe ones as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I really did just come over with the intention of talking to you.”

“I know. We can still just talk if you want to or maybe we can watch a movie…” As you glance towards the tv, he places two of his fingers under your chin, and turns your face back to look at him.

“We’re not going to watch a movie, sweetheart.”

“Oh, um, ok. Do you want to maybe see my bedroom?”

Eddie nods and as he rises to his feet, he extends his hand for you to take, helping you off the floor.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

He steps into your personal space and just like last night you can feel his cigarette smelling breath warming your lips as he hovers just above them.

“Thank you…?”

“Thank you, Daddy.”, you whisper.

“Good girl.”

When you don’t move his smile widens as he gestures down a hallway with his eyes and you laugh nervously before leading him to your room.

“Aw, this is cute.”, he grins as he looks around taking everything in.

“What did you expect, Mr. Munson? Some neon lights with a stripper pole in the middle.”

You watch him as he continues to explore, ignoring your sass as he scans through your music.

“Geez, I didn’t think people bought albums anymore.”

“I do. I like the way they sound.” Walking over to where he was standing, you run your fingers through you collection and pulled out one he definitely recognized.

“Well shit. I didn’t know we sold any physical albums either.” Taking the Corroded Coffin album from your hand, he quickly gave it a once over before handing it back to you. “Seems like you don’t listen to it very much.”

You shrug as you place it back in with the others. “What album gets you in the mood for work?”, he asked.

“Huh?”

“You’re getting ready for the evening to go to a client’s house or to the club where you dance. You know it’s going to be a long night of hoots, hollers, and flirty touches with drunk assholes until 3am. What do you listen to, to get you mentally in that headspace?”

“I don’t know to be honest. I think it just depends on my mood.”

“Let me ask you this then. Did you listen to music when you got ready to come over last night? What did you put on?”, he asks when you nod.

Lightly moving him to the side, you grab the album on top of another stack by the record player and set it up before carefully dropping the needle on the record.

“You keep dreaming and dark scheming Yeah, you do You're a poison and I know that is the truth All my friends think you're vicious And they say you're suspicious You keep dreaming and dark scheming Yeah, you do.”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours as the man begins to sing and he can see the music already affecting you as you begin to lightly sway.

“It’s a band called Two Feet. They’re rhythm and lyrics just…” Your voice trails off as he continues to watch you. He doesn’t move or say anything and his strong, powerful demeanor is making you wetter by the second. This time you move, pushing your body so close to his you can feel his heartbeat against your own chest. His chocolate eyes scan your face before landing on your lips.

“I feel like I'm drowning I'm drowning You're holding me down and Holding me down You're killing me slow So slow, oh no I feel like I'm drowning I'm drowning.”

“Please, Daddy.”, you whisper, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.

Eddie obliges tilting down to kiss you firmly as his fingers tangle in your hair to bring your face as close to his as possible. Walking you backwards towards your bed, he falls on top of you as his lips continue to dance with yours.

“Y/N...I need to hear…hear you agree to…what I’m asking for.”, he pants out between each peck and heavy breath.

“I—we can end it at any time?”

“Of course. Of course, sweetheart.”

“Ok. Ok, Eddie.”

He softly smiles as his fingers caress your cheek. “Can I see your body? Can you show it to me, please?”

“Please? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You treat me with respect and I’ll do the same.”

Rolling to his side, he allows you space to remove your shirt and pull down your jeans with your panties.

“No bra? Naughty little girl.”, Eddie teases as runs his hands along your legs. “You really are beautiful, princess.” Guiding your leg over his waist, you licked your lips as you felt the tips of his fingers glide ever so gently up and down your inner thigh. “Look at you. I haven’t even touched your pussy yet and you’re making a mess already.”, he chuckles with slight condescension that has you pouting.

“Oh, come on now, pretty girl. Don’t make that face. Is all of this for me?” When you only nod, his palm lightly but firmly slaps down against your folds making you yelp. “Properly, please. I want to hear you. I always want to hear you.”

“Y-yes, Daddy. It’s all for you.”

You both groan as he slides his fingers between your lips, the sound of your slick causing the bulge in his own jeans get tighter as it pressed against the denim.

“Fuck me, baby. Can Daddy taste you? Are you going let Daddy make you feel good?”

“Yes, Daddy. Please. I need you to.”

After yanking his shirt over his head, he tosses it to the floor and slides his body between your legs, tenderly kissing parts of your skin along the way. When his tongue licks a long stripe through your folds, your eyes roll back as you loudly moan.

Eddie can’t help but laugh under his breath at the sound.

“Do you like how my tongue feels, pretty girl?”

“S-so wide. Please don’t stop.”

He does as you ask and your whole body comes to life as he explores every part of your cunt; making mental notes at what makes your whimper the loudest. Coming off you, he gathers some of your arousal with his fingers and slowly pushes two of them into your entrance.

“Goddamn it, sweetheart. You are so fucking tight.” His mouth eagerly wrapped around your clit as he pumped his digits inside you. Eddie’s eyes remained on your face as he watched you squirm and play with your breasts.

“Yes, Daddy! Pl-please! I’m gonna…”

“That’s it, baby. Let go and cum for Daddy.”

Practically screaming, your body shook as you came, your hips grinding against him. Eddie continued to lick you, smirking as he felt your body twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Kissing his way up to your lips, his smile grew wider as you beamed up at him with hooded eyes.

“You did good, princess. You taste so good and your pussy is so tight. I’m going to ruin you when I fuck you.”

“You’re not going to fuck me now?”, you whine.

“No, Y/N. Not tonight.”

“Do I get to at least make you cum?”, you ask gesturing towards his groin.

Leaning against your headboard, he collects you to his side till your head was on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you as he kissed your forehead.

“You want to make Daddy cum, honey? Go ahead and take out my cock.”

Your eyes remain on his as you tug at his belt with one hand before unbuttoning his pants and guiding them down his hips enough for his cock to spring free. You had felt him the night prior but seeing him now made your eyes widen. He really was going to ruin you.

“You can touch me.”, he murmured.

Licking your palm, you reached out to hold him and his dick twitched at the contact. Your mouth salivated as your thumb grazed the pre cum already dripping from his slit. Eddie deeply exhaled at the action but as you leaned forward with the intention of choking on his cock, his hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back.

“Nu uh. I said you could touch me not taste me.”

“Please, Daddy. I really want to.” He shook his head and you whined. You actually whined like a child as you crooned your face into his neck.

His fingers roughly tugged on your hair, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Who’s in control here?” Your lips formed into a thin, defiant line causing him to yank harder making you moan at the action. “Answer me.”

“You are, Daddy.”

“If you want to keep giving me that fucking attitude, Y/N, I can jerk myself off while you watch. Be grateful I’m allowing you to do anything.”

“Can I at least spit, please?”

Taking hold of your palm, he brings it to his lips as he lets a glob of spit fall into it and places your hand back around him. Watching his face, it killed you that it was now contorted in annoyance. You wanted him to feel as good as he had made you feel.

As you began to stroke him, you curled your body closer to his and tenderly kissed his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to give you attitude. I just want to feel you in my mouth so badly.” Eddie moaned at your confession as your hand twisted around him, your thumb occasionally grazing his tip. “I want to feel you in the back my throat. I want you to feel me gag around you and make a mess over your cock.”

His calloused palm ran down your side till you felt his fingers pinch your nipples making you mewl in his ear.

“That’s right, Daddy. Touch me. Use me to cum.”

“Fuck. F-faster, baby.”

“Is that you need, Daddy?”, you coo as you pump him quicker, squeezing your hand tighter around him.

Eddie’s lips land on yours for a passionate kiss as his tongue massages your own. You mewl at the taste of yourself as his mouth travels down your cheek to your ear.

“Your hand feels so good on me, sweetheart. Fuck… maybe if you beg me…D-Daddy will let you swallow his cum.”

As his lips and tongue caressed your throat, his ear hovered just close enough to your mouth for you to whisper you pleas to him as he groaned at the sound.

“Please. Please let me taste you, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl. I promise. Please…”

Eddie’s jaw went slack and you felt his face scrunch against your skin. Roughly gripping the back of your neck, he guided you over his cock and you opened your mouth just enough for him to thrust himself inside of you.

“Fuck me, babygirl. Your mouth is so fucking warm. Don’t move. Daddy’s going to give you what you want.”

After a few more sloppy movements of his hips, he grunted above you as you felt ropes of his release hit your throat. As soon as his hands fell, you utilized the opportunity to run your tongue along his tip, licking him clean.

Gently kissing up his stomach, you laid your head on his chest as you listened to him breathe. It took him a while before his fingers finally reached up to play with your hair as he laid his arm on top of the one you had strewn across him.

“Eddie? What are the rules for after?”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Do you want me to go?” You didn’t see but he softly smiled as you held him tighter.

“No…but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m actually quite comfortable if I’m being honest.”

“Me to. Which is new for me.” He cranes his neck to look at you and you lean back a bit so your eyes can find his. “If I’m being honest.”

“I don’t know if this needs to be said, Y/N, but you’re safe with me. If at any point you do feel uncomfortable or you need tell me something please feel free to be open with me.”

Nodding, you smirk as you sit up, grabbing the bottom part of his jeans at the legs and tug them off before throwing them aside. Eddie watches you with amusement, grinning as well as you tug his shirt over your head and climb back into bed to pull his boxers back up over his hips.

Turning off your bedside lamp, you take his hand, and place his arm over your waist as you melt your body into his own. Sliding his other arm under your pillow, he leans forward to softly kiss your shoulder as he brings you closer to his chest.

“Good night, pretty girl.”

“Good night, Daddy.”

#######

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aww-canon-no · 11 months

Text

The thing is, Eddie isn’t used to being allowed to look. Before the upside down, and the murders, and the demo-bats, he was used to doing it quietly, surreptitiously.... And being big and loud and obnoxious every time he came even close to getting caught.

He doesn't draw attention to the fact that Steve doesn’t remember him from high school, or the Lit class they took together where Steve fucked off for most of it and scraped by with a low C.

Steve was too busy laughing and flirting and mouthing off to the teacher so he never turned around. Ever.

Eddie could stare all he wanted with his heart on his sleeve because even if Steve did turn around one day, he wouldn’t know what that look was on Eddie’s face because Steve was never going to see him.

Except...

He does now. Steve sees Eddie. He sees him better than anyone has in his entire life, including Wayne which is just a wild concept. And Steve doesn’t just see- he notices. He notices things before Eddie does.

Like when things around him are too bright, or too loud, or too chaotic. He sees the quiet sparks of overload simmering below Eddie’s skin and at least seven times out of ten gets Eddie out of there before it’s too late, and to some place quiet where he can pace and strum air guitar chords or beat on his thigh with drumsticks (even though he doesn’t play the drums because the booming sensation would drive him up the wall).

Steve notices when Eddie’s looking now, too, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Not really. Okay, sometimes he preens because Eddie might be the Freak but Steve was tragically and horrifically under appreciated and not loved nearly enough by the people who were supposed to love him. So yeah, he does likes when Eddie looks.

It usually leads to kissing. To slow hands and careful tongues, and warm skin on warm skin that Eddie would die rather than give up willingly.

Sometimes Steve does nothing about it though. Especially after all...well...that. He just lies there and lets Eddie take in his fill. He sometimes twitches, but other than that he doesn't react when Eddie dances two fingers over Steve’s bare, hairy chest.

And God Eddie likes the way that soft hair feels under the pads of his fingers.

Steve just looks back- soft and warm. He just gives himself over.

The realization of being allowed to have all of this- not just the gentle parts but everything all together, all at once- is, maybe not too much but as close as it will come with him and Steve.

Sometimes he trembles a little, but mostly he just curls into his boyfriend and stares past him at the small window in his trailer, at the night sky glowing with faint stars and a big moon. He thinks, this is mine now. I get to keep this.

The world may have ended and both of them nearly died more than once. Very little survived.

But this did.

Maybe it’s enough.

#Steddie #future fic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steve x Eddie #Stranger Things

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rosewaterandivy · 8 months

Text

10. a kiss is not enough

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C.: 4.5K

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, cursing, sexual situations - SMUT & idolatry (my usual bullshit), real-talk with Nancy Wheeler, idiots still being idiots, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance.

A/N: Holy shit, I can't believe we've come to the end (or is it 👀) of this series! When I started this, I had no clue how many people would respond to Trouble and Steve's idiots-to-lovers story - but I'm so glad that they did! This series will always be near and dear to my heart, for a variety of reasons, but primarily for the people it brought into my life (here's lookin' at you, babe!). This isn't a goodbye from Trouble and Steve so much as a see you later - don't hate me too much! Poetry excerpt from John Keats. 18+ mature content (minors dni). Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated, please let me know what you thought; enjoy & thanks for reading! 💜

series masterlist | playlist - newly updated!

Trouble’s playlist from Steve: trouble will find me

Steve's playlist from Trouble: rebel without a clue

previous || epilogue

Now, May, Finals Week

“Just think about it, kid,” Hopper says on his way out your classroom door. He’d requested a meeting during your conference block, when normally he’d amble in under some pretense just to shoot the shit.

You nod, at a loss for words. It’s not like you needed yet another thing on your plate— waiting to hear back from admissions and not spilling to Steve or the gang was bad enough.

Yeah, you’d applied for grad school (even though grad students were the worst) and Hop had been contacted as a reference, which prompted his little visit today. Apparently, the district had approved a stipend and sabbatical for faculty furthering their education in graduate school.

“I’d like to recommend you,” Hop said matter of factly, sitting in a desk across from yours. “Maybe not for the sabbatical until you’re further along in the program, writing your thesis and whatnot.”

“I, uh–” you stumbled to find the words. “Cart, horse. I haven’t been accepted yet.”

He leveled you with a look, “Are you shittin’ me? Of course you’re getting in.”

You swallowed audibly and busied yourself emptying your desk for the summer, “Well, time will tell I suppose.”

“This isn’t—” Hopper paused in thought. “This isn’t about Harrington, is it?”

“Huh,” you nearly yelled, clutching the cardboard box for dear life. You had been so careful too.

He cracks a smile, “I saw the pair of you at graduation, you think you’re so slick.”

That brings a smile to your face, good ol’ Hop sussing out the goings on like he’d never left the force.

“It’s nothing.” You assure him, “We haven’t— We’re professionals, okay?”

“I know,” he nods, voice lowering as if he could spook you. “I’m happy for you, really.”

A small smile breaks across your face, “Yeah, uh, thanks.”

Finals done and grades posted, you’d never been so happy to get home. Had plans to pour yourself onto the couch and not move for 72 hours.

But life (and Steve) had other plans.

He was sorting through the mail, chucking envelopes into various piles on the countertop. The loft was quiet that afternoon— Eddie had a gig in Indy that evening and Robin was crashing at Vickie’s for the night. Steve hummed a tune to himself, the occasional slap of paper hitting the granite punctuating it.

“Oh hey,” Steve turns with a large envelope in hand, “This looks important.” Tosses it with freakish accuracy, the white paper landing with a thwack where your shorts had ridden up against your thigh.

Distracted by whatever drama was unfolding on TV— something about a crew working on chartered private boats— you mindlessly slip your thumb beneath the lip of the envelope and tear it open.

It’s only once you’ve pulled the papers from it that you glance to see what’s what. The university’s crest shines like a beacon, your thumb worrying over the topmost letter. Steve, the bastard, has stopped his mail sorting and turned toward you.

He leans lazily against the counter, a knowing smirk fixed on his lips. You scramble up from the couch with the papers, too nervous to see for yourself. “Here,” you say, thrusting the envelope and documents to his chest. “Can you—”

Pulling you to his chest with an arm, he brushes his lips against the crown of your head. “Sure, honey.” You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest— warm and familiar.

“You know,” he drawls, “The big envelope generally means something good, right?”

“I know,” muffled against his shirt.

He chuckles, hand coming up to cradle your head. Steve clears his throat, reads the opening of the letter in his best announcer voice. “Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that…”

The rest is drowned out by the rushing of blood in your ears, the tears pooling in your eyes breaking free to cascade down your cheeks. He squeezes you tight abandoning the acceptance letter and letting it flutter to the floor in favor of drawing you closer. Steve kisses you, licking your own tears into your mouth, your taste onto your tongue. And it’s so weirdly hot that your heart starts fluttering again, like you’re seeing him for the first time.

Because of course, just as things were going right something had to come and throw a wrench into things.

Plans for lazing in the early summer forgotten, the next few days saw you coming and going from the university campus for orientation, meetings with faculty, so on and so forth. As you were leaving the grad student mixer, a professor peeled off from a group of faculty to flag you down with a call of your name.

You turn, not recognizing them from the English department. She’s an older woman, has maybe a few years on your mother, and is swathed in a lovely linen dress— the cool elegance of minimalist style.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Holland,” she says shaking your hand. “I’m on the admissions committee and was very impressed with your work on Dante Alighieri.”

“Oh, thanks!”

“And you studied Italian as an undergrad?”

“Certo.”

That brings a smile to her face. “Perfetto,” she says with a perfect Italian accent and waves over another faculty member. “I only ask because there’s a summer intensive in Italy beginning next week that I think you’d be perfect for.”

Your mind reels. The new professor introduces himself and echoes Dr. Holland’s sentiments— a summer session of classes in Italy, in partnership with Università di Bologna, the oldest university in operation in the world. Scholarships that would cover the cost of tuition, travel, and accommodations for you to peruse.

What the fuck.

Vision swimming, you somehow come back to the conversation at hand. Dr. Holland presses a folder to your hand, “I know you were planning on taking the introductory grad school courses over the summer, but I hope you’ll consider joining us in Italy instead.”

You nod, gobsmacked and make your way to the car. Settling into the sweltering seat, you start the car and call Nancy. If anyone would know what to say in this situation, it would be her.

“That’s the thing,” you sigh, wine glass in hand as you slump on Nancy’s couch. “We’re not anything, haven’t discussed it. I mean, sure, we fuck like rabbits, but aside from that?”

She blows a raspberry and sips from her glass. “He’s in love with you, get over it.”

You jerk up, “Okay, maybe,” you allow. “But he hasn’t said anything.”

“And you won’t pony up to do it yourself?”

A scoff as you drain your glass. “I’m sorry, have you met me?”

Nancy laughs at that, loud and bright. “Unfortunately, yes!” She refills your glass before continuing, “Let’s be honest, you’re both hopeless when it comes to eachother.” She raises her brow before you can balk, “Full offense intended.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

She hums at that, head cocked to the side in thought. Her nail taps against the glass with a soft clink. A bite to her lips before she heaves a sigh, “Sometimes he just needs a push.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “I am absolutely not telling him he’s bullshit, if that’s what you’re after.”

Nancy, to her credit, winces uncomfortably at the memory. “No, no,” a shake of her head. “Absolutely not, you would never.” She sets her glass down carefully, giving you her full attention. “What I’m getting at is this: do you want to be something with Steve?”

She lets the question hang in the air between you.

“Because if you don’t know Trouble, you should back away now.” A low warning tone. “You’re it for him, have been since he laid eyes on you, but you’re both too scared to do anything about it.”

You drain your glass to the dregs and hastily take your leave. At the sound of the door closing, Nancy grabs her phone and brings it to her ear, “Hey Harrington, I need a favor…”

Returning from a less than helpful hang session at Nancy’s, you find a post-it note left on your bedroom, door that reads ‘meet me at our spot on lover’s lake. - s.’

Prizing it from the wood grain, you make your way back to the kitchen to scavenge for something to eat, in an effort to soak up the remnants of wine in your system. Opening the fridge you spy another post-it stuck to the topmost shelf: ‘get your ass down here, i’ll feed you soon enough. - s.’

With a laugh, you let the fridge door fall shut and grab your keys.

He can see you now, just barley, even in the indigo dark. Wonders to himself, how are you even real? How is it that you’re mine? An explanation that won’t ever come.

You slip into the cool water of Lover’s Lake like a dream, with nary a sound. Steve stumbles after you on the piles of clothing you’d left behind—bunched up denim shorts here, a threadbare tank-top over there, the silk of your thong musky and damp.

Fisting his shirt to pull it up and over his head, it falls to the forest floor behind him, jeans shucked off and tossed elsewhere, boxers joining your lingerie by the shore. His patience is wearing thin as you wade further and further from him out into the lake.

Little minx, he smiles and takes a breath before diving beneath the waves. Arms cutting through the placid water at a quick pace until he’s occupying the space between your bare legs, and coming up for air.

One arm drags you near, lazily pressing you close, tight around the small of your back as the tide breaks around your waist, minute movements almost imperceptible— the slow roll of your hips against his.

Water shallow enough to tread and keep you buoyant. Steve kisses you slow and sweet, pulling you flush against his chest while you writhe under the water’s surface. Body slick and wanton and arching into his own.

His dick jumps when you lift yourself to drape your arms around his shoulders. A sharp breath replaced with a shaky exhale as he brings his forehead to rest on yours, dark eyes taking in the exhilarated flush of your body.

And Steve knows, under his skin and tucked into the cage of his ribs, near the beating of his anguished heart, that you’re the only thing left in this world worth worshipping. To keep you, and render you a flightless bird, to clip your wings, would be all for naught.

He has to let you go again, and so soon after you found him. From perihelion to aphelion before the moon’s full turning. The soft curve of your throat drawn taut as you glance upward, marvelling at the stars and planets in the northern sky.

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” Your voice is a husk, low and hoarse, in the dark. “Its loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness.” Your eyes, once fixed on the sea of stars above, shift to him once more.

Closer to the shoreline now, and unbeknownst to you, Steve had gently waded you both inshore, until he could draw you toward the dock.

You let him walk you back until you’re flush against a mooring pole, wood rough against your moon-bathed skin. Body yielding to him as both his hands slide beneath your bottom, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass before he pulls you forward by the hips.

“S’okay, honey,” He mutters—right into your panting mouth with a sultry pull of his lips. “I’ve got you.”

“Steve,” You gasp, “This is unfair.” Your body jerks with every teasing kiss from his lips that he laves and sucks to the column of your throat.

He ignores you, crawling his hands onto your hips to keep you from squirming. Works his thigh in between your legs for good measure. Once you’re settled, he moves one hand to your center a finger trailing up and down your slippery folds. His mouth latches onto the spot that makes you keen, just behind your ear. You fist his hair in both hands at the same time he slips a digit inside.

But Steve doesn’t move. Other than his tongue’s soft licks on your neck and into your kiss-bitten mouth, he doesn’t move at all. He happily lets his finger rest inside of you, gathering your juices all over his hand.

You whimper, trying to shimmy against them, anything to create more contact. Its intrusion lights a terrible match inside of your body, and goddamn it, you want to a forest fire.

Calming breaths in and out. Steady head, steady heart. When you’re able to meet his gaze again, you take a moment to see him as he truly is: dappled in moonlight, forelock hanging in front of his eyes, his entire focus trained on you.

It feels like an eternity passes before he finally lets you have another—adding one more thick finger inside, stretching you as he moves them both around, curling them, scissoring them, pumping them in and out.

Steve sucks enthusiastically on your sensitive skin and lips, fucks you with two fingers almost wildly, and your body responds with fervor. You gasp and moan, arching back into his hand, goosebumps blooming all over your shoulders and down your arms and legs.

You shake like a leaf in his arms, not knowing if it’s from the cool night air or due to the man before you.

Instead of increasing his pace, Steve continues to stroke you with his fingers, slowly prodding at your entrance with a third. Your eyes roll back and get lost in your head as you lean back with a whimper.

“Just trying to get you ready.” He murmurs, so soft and low that your heart stills.

Your legs wrap around his back loosely as he holds you still, his previous two fingers pushing inside gently. The third finger meets resistance as you tense up. “S-sorry,” You whisper, “I’m…”

Your head knocks back against the wooden pier. But you move his hand back and try again. He’s so tender and sweet with you as he turns his head to place kisses on your cheek and ear.

You blink owlishly, trying desperately to weave your threads of thought together. A shake of your head to rattle them loose. A sweet smile up to Steve, a barely there kiss to his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy, breaths heaving from your chest. Steve commits to memory the way your lids flutter when he touches you.

You gasp and moan, arching your chest into his and pulled as taut as a bow sting—back forming a crescent-shaped arc, a sliver of the moon radiant in the inky blue reflection of the water.

“C’mon, that’s it, honey. You’re so close. Almost there… Good girl… Good girl.”

With a cry, you come undone, rolling your hips every which way as you reach orgasm on Steve’s hand. His voice continues to praise you, lips kissing your sweat-slicked collar, bristles on his cheek and jaw tickling your sensitive skin.

Coming back to yourself, you shiver bodily. And Steve looks at you as if you hold infinities in the palms your hands.

You reach for him reverently, desperate for his shape of beauty and noble nature. A dream realized, a wish granted, gentle and true. You feel brave enough to shift and stroke him with determination.

You whisper, "Missed you," eliciting a shudder from him as your palm grips him tenderly.

Relishing in the temperature of his body, you sigh. Spreading the beaded precome at the tip of his cock up and down his shaft. Steve groans, head falling to yours.

“Missed you more,” He hums, eyes heavy-lidded and lustful.

Gasping as Steve guides your hips with one hand, and grips himself with the other. Slowly and without haste, he fills you inch by inch until he’s so deep inside you think he could burst from your throat.

You whimper. There aren’t enough words to describe it— the gratifying sting, an all-encompassing and chilling burn, a mystifying and utter fullness that nearly brings tears to your eyes. You’re fearful to move, to lose this sensation, and afraid to feel what comes next. But you know that you want it.

Steve kisses your lips tenderly, babbling praise, whispering affirmations, soothing the shock that surges up your spine with his warm palm. Slowly, he rocks you back, as water lapping against your thighs, holds onto your body with one hand, smoothing the hair that falls over your face with the other.

You’re gripping him so tightly it takes some effort to slide even an inch of him out— and there’s many inches of him. Sweat collects on your brow as you grind, dragging against his length, forcing shudders to course all over both your bodies. “Is this okay?” you cry, delirious, “Steve? You feel so good.”

He moves in you, like a prayer.

A groan escapes him as his hand squeezes your back just a little too hard. He’s holding back, trying to prolong your pleasure, but his own is chasing him down, only a few steps away from pouncing.

You coax it towards him with faster snapping of your hips against his, clawing at his back, nibbling on his ear. “Come on, lover… just a little more.”

With a grunt and a shudder, and a hard kiss to your lips that makes your teeth clack against each other, Steve thrusts one last time as deeply as possible, riding out his orgasm as he pulls your hips against his.

The two of you feel rooted together, sticky with sweat and so tightly flushed that you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. Your body slumps as you drape your arms over his neck. Steve turns his head to kiss your shoulder before making the effort to pull away, your shaky legs held in his secure grasp.

The black slik of night gives way to the earth’s rotation, stars and moon bending to the will of gravity. Splashes in its silent, dark depths as you broach the shore. A little shaky on your feet, but he’s close behind, sultry and brilliant like the summer morning quickly approaching.

Whispers and murmurs tucked between fervent kisses as you dress. Fabric sticking to damp skin as his hands roam. Frenetic movements as he backs you up against the car, the coolness of it causing you to shiver.

“You should do it,” he rasps against your lips. “The Italy thing, you always loved it there.”

“How did you–” you sputter.

You can’t see him roll his eyes, but you just know. “Nance, who else?”

The warmth of Steve’s body burns against you, a hand threading through your hair half-convinced the moon is hiding there, hanging like a jewel in the night. And you’re a mess when you kiss him. Your breath is warm and so sweet, and the center of his chest squirms like something alive.

In that moment, you love him but can’t tell him, not yet. You decide the sun that will kiss freckles to his face will do it for you.

The song of summer sings out as you load your suitcase into Nancy’s car a few days later. The trunk slams closed and your back is pressed against his chest, his arm hanging casually around your collar. It is the end of May, the first bloom of summer balmy on your skin.

Steve had not taken the news of Nancy driving you to the airport well.

At all.

A sponged necklace of kisses to your throat as the light creeps in. Sheets kicked to the edge of the bed so you’re tangled up in him. Skin already glinting gold in the summer sun. Twisting in his hold, desperate to glance at the time. “Steve,” muffled against the heft of his shoulder, “I gotta go, Nance will be here soon.”

The turn of his weight bearing down, trapping your body under his. A cruel circle of his hips has you shuddering. His breath ghosts along your skin, “Baby, baby please.” Nose trailing down from your sternum to the swell of your stomach. Pausing there for lips to lave kisses on the curves that trailed to your hips.

Eyes dark and heady with promise, “Just a taste.” Lips and mouth delving lower now, fingers parting the cleave of your cunt with a squelch. He hooks them back into his mouth with a groan. “Mmm,” he slurs, drunk off your arousal. “You taste good, sweetheart,” His nose bumps against your clit, “Like honey.”

Breath stuttering in the cage of your ribs, you fist his hair in one hand and tug. Steve moans overtly, pupils blown wide while he’s face deep in pussy. “Steve,” Your voice trembles. He glances up, smoldering and glorious, drinking you up. “Ah—fuck,” before you’re overtaken again.

You’re desperate, and he can hear it in your voice. A quiver in your throat, you swallow thickly mouth falling open in a pant. His fingers work into you easily, dragging exquisitely along your channel—warm and wet, only growing more so with every thrust of his hand. You mewl, hips bucking up as he sucks your swollen clit.

Legs thrown over his shoulders, as he cants your pelvis forward, arm heavy against your stomach to bully you in place. “Sweet girl,” He coos, lips ruddy and wet with your slick. “Doin’ so well for me.” You shiver in his hold, sunbeams hazy with orange glow, the refracting light makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then you feel something pulled taut in your belly. A chord stretching like a rubber band before it snaps. The wind up is excruciating, Steve’s litany of devotions falling in hushed murmurs from his lips. His fingers plunging up into the chasm between your legs, pulling away wetter each time.

He bends back down, tongue circling your clit at a dizzying pace. A third finger slides in impossibly, a keen igniting from your throat—high and whimpering. God, you’re so close. You babble, hands scrambling purchase against his dewy skin.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

“Oh my god,” you thrash on the bed, hair sticking to the sheen of your face, hanging on by a thread as his fingers drive into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Steve promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your lust-addled brain, the telltale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of your cunt— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time.

“Stevie,” you mewl, “Steve.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

You drily sob out something broken, a tiny echo of affirmation as he keeps fucking into you like he could break through. He’s really abused your pussy this morning, maybe gone too far, but every time you come like this, it’s like he’s seeing something holy.

“Oh my god…!” It’s a small shout as you shatter, and it makes Steve’s spine light up as you rub your face further into the pillow.

“Praying to me, sweetheart?” but doesn’t stop those tiny, hard circles, doesn’t stop melting into your body, his dick pulsing as he ruts against the sheets. “You can keep doing that,” he urges, “I like that.”

So, you’re not surprised when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished breakfast, as predicted, in a terrible disarray, and Robin crosses herself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Eddie clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his ring-clad fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.”

As much as you tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t goodbye but instead see you soon, it didn’t stick. But the ache in your gut did—low and menacing, growling like an animal.

Eddie and Robin were easy, promises to stay in touch and bring back the best candy. Your parents were less so, tight hugs and dried tears on cheeks.

Steve, however, you needed to brace yourself for. Short of chaining yourself to Nancy’s car, you weren’t sure how you’d escape with your dignity intact. He was already kissing on you, soft and sweet, as Nancy slid into the driver’s seat while Eddie and Robin waved goodbye walking back inside.

You slip from his grasp in a flash, pulling him by the belt loops to knock hips. “Stevie, lover mine,” you sing, his palms cupping your ass as his hands slide into your back pockets.

Lover.

What a word.

You think about it every waking second—the way he stretches in the morning, how he sings in the shower, dances in the kitchen, smiles and beams at anyone who passes by—how good he is.

How you love him.

“Mm—” raspy, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Feet walking you closer and closer and you’re pressed against him. Nosing along the column of his neck, nipping at the delicate skin there, watching as his throat bobs when he swallows.

Hands free themselves from denim confines, a thumb caresses the small of your back. Steve pries your hand from his chest, and brings it to his mouth, placing a tender kiss against your palm.

You hum as his lips brush your skin, observing as he meanders to the thin flesh of your wrist. Hazel eyes near golden in the morning sun as Steve looks to you, face open and fond. Lips featherlight when they kiss your thundering pulse.

Only then do you start to break.

You thought you were prepared. But it steals the breath from your lungs, levelling you to ruin, a creeping sense of hopelessness in its wake.

He’s quick to notice, crushing you to his chest and hand cradling your head. Soothing murmurs of “S’okay honey, we’ll be alright,” and the rasp of your name. Fingers brushing hair from your face with a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And it is hard to leave him, but you can do difficult things.

Forehead bent to yours, back warm in the sun’s decorous rays, a searing tear-laden kiss and you’re off. Turned back in your seat to see him recede in the distance until he’s a mere speck on the horizon as Nancy tugs you forward.

All the goodbyes had all been said, save one thing lodged in the depths of your throat.

I love you.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfiction #the kids aren't alright rosewaterandivy #modern!steve harrington #teacher!steve

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year

Note

Hi my sweetest Luna love 🌙. I saw you put a call out for dad!Eddie ideas/requests. I’ve got one I’d like to propose.

In episode 8, Eddie says, “when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire.”

I feel like this would weigh heavily on Eddie when he becomes a dad, and he would want to be a good role model for his son. But, Eddie realizes he still doesn’t know about those hobbies so he enlists Wayne’s help. Cue the three generations of Munson men having cute bonding moments. :)

Gone Fishing: The Munson Men…

part two of my little mini series wherein you’re married to eddie, have a son named james, and now a daughter named quinn. features a whole lot of wayne as well. you don’t have to read part one to understand this one, but it’ll likely give some insight into background information. warnings: mentions of childbirth; newborn situations; worms being used as bait.

dad!eddie munson x afab!mom!reader. (4.2k words)

People say that the jump from one child to two isn’t that chaotic. That once you’re used to parenting, it becomes an extension of a normal routine.

Those people, Eddie decides, are also called liars.

He loves Quinn.

He loves his infant daughter more than words can even begin to express; hell, he cried in the hospital room like a baby himself when the doctor shouted, “It’s a girl!” and finally answered all the months of questioning who the little one growing inside your belly had been.

But, just as James had as a baby, Quinn quickly takes up both your time.

Nights of sleep become a thing of the past, and he’s quickly reminded of what the newborn stage, however wonderful, looks like. Routines shift and become endless midnight diaper changes to give you time to rest, turning over to tap your shoulder and wake you to swap shifts so you can feed her. As you lay her against your chest, he heads down to the kitchen and tries to clean up the messes from all the times she’s woken before that.

So it comes as no surprise the way James begins to grow a little frustrated with the whole ordeal. No longer the littlest Munson in the family, he’s taken up a habit of doing things out of line to garner Eddie’s and your attention.

The first week Quinn is earth side, he pitches a fit because she’s simply a girl (and he’d begged his mom and dad for a brother). He asks Eddie to “send her back to the stork.” Steve and Nancy reassure you both that it’s normal; however, they don’t warn or prepare you for the angry whining from your son when he asks to show either of you something in the middle of tending to his baby sister. Nor do they warn you that four year olds are inclined to have tantrums if either of you ask him to “wait just a minute” when he really doesn’t want to be patient at all.

So while Quinn cries, James cries, and then you cry (sleep is an elusive thing these days, so he never faults you for the changing tides of your wavering emotions)—and Eddie knows he needs to do something.

And soon.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” he asks as he enters the room.

He drops down onto the bed where you’re presently sitting against a mountain of pillows with his three week old in arm. You offer him a tired smile as he leans down to kiss Quinn’s head of dark hair.

Another very Munson looking baby, if he does say so himself.

“We’ll be fine,” you promise, sighing when his forehead rests against yours, his nose running along yours affectionately. “She’ll probably sleep most of the time you’re gone anyway. Have fun. And say hi to Wayne for me. Tell him to come by soon.”

Eddie groans, sliding down onto his stomach to marvel at his newborn daughter. Ringed fingers reach out to touch her, thumb swiping down her chubby cheek. The baby stirs within her swaddle, bleary eyes sleepily searching about for her parents.

“I just hate leaving her. What if she grows up while I’m gone? Gets her first job and goes off to college? A first boyfriend that I’ll have to murder and you’ll have to be my alibi for?”

He pouts, earning a laugh out of you for his still-present dramatic flair that’s as much a part of his DNA as the love he holds in his heart for his growing family.

Eddie watches those dark eyes as they flutter open once more and take in her father’s face, lip curling upward at the way her lips part very slightly, her tiny grunts warming him from the inside out.

“Hey, Quinnie. Daddy loves you.”

“She’s going to be just fine, and she’ll still be just as cute and little as you left her. But yes, I will be your accomplice when the time comes,” you reassure him, stroking a hand down the back of his head. He leans into the comfort, sliding his hand over yours. “Go—have fun with James and Wayne. It’s his special day, after all.”

Which is true.

Being that most of your time is spent feeding a newborn around the clock and trying to work around her inconsistent sleeping schedule, you're struggling to spend all the time you want with James.

Eddie had held you in the kitchen a few nights ago after dinner, an arm curled around your shoulders to keep you close as you sniffled against his neck, worrying you weren’t a good mother. He knew it was the hormones talking, but it ripped his heart down the middle even hearing you question how wonderful you’d been to his son and him since you’d begun dating shortly after he’d graduated high school.

“You’re taking care of a newborn,” he’d said, quieting your tears with two palms against your cheeks, and the gentle brush of his lips across every possible inch of your face. “You’re a kickass mother. The best wife—hottest too. I mean, shit, baby—”

“Eds.”

You buried your face in his chest, snorting at his compliment.

“It’s true. Can’t believe I fooled you into dating me and now having kids with me.” Your balled up fist nudged against his abdomen, earning a laugh from deep within his chest. “Quinnie is so tiny now. It’ll get easier. But I have an idea; how about I take Jim Jam for a little outing? We’ll spend time with his Pop Pop and we’ll do…Munson men things.”

Which brings him back to his current situation: lifting Quinn out of your arms to press parting kiss after parting kiss to her curly head of dark hair until her little face scrunches around her binky.

Eddie hushes her back to sleep and you nearly have to pry her out of his greedy fingers to get him to hand her back over. He watches you grin widely, inhaling her new baby smell you’re both addicted to when she’s back against your chest and nuzzling her downy forehead lovingly.

Quinn Leigh Munson has stolen his heart and he doesn’t particularly care who knows it.

With his daughter back in the cradle of your arms, Eddie leans down to brush one last kiss against your lips and Quinn’s plush cheek before calling James into the bedroom.

In scampers the four-year-old a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, his too-big rain boots scrunching with every step.

“Ready to hit the road, Jim Jam?” Eddie asks, ruffling his son’s dark curls. “Say bye to Mom and Quinnie.”

With a little help from Eddie, James crawls across the bed and presses a kiss to your cheek. You giggle airily as he curls himself around your body, close as he possibly can be, just like Eddie tends to when it’s the two of you alone at night.

“Bye, Mommy.”

The words are a smush of his face against your collarbone and forehead into your neck, one hand resting on your opposite shoulder. All wriggling movements and flailing arms that jostle the baby.

Quinn stirs within your arms, little whimpering cries beckoning James to attention as you kiss him fleetingly on the top of his head.

He’s already leaning down close to her face, a pout firmly against his full lips. “Quinnie, why are you always crying? Ugh—”

“James,” Eddie warns, catching the furrowed brow on his son’s forehead. Your eyes flicker upward, amusement bubbling despite the four-year-old’s growing annoyance. “She’s a baby. You cried a lot when you were her age too.”

“Fine,” he says with a huff.

The boy presses a kiss to his sister’s wrinkly brow and clambers back off the bed. There’s a squelch of boots on the carpet before he’s thumping into Eddie’s left hip, an arm curling around his father’s thigh to hold tight.

James’ head tips back, eyes looking into his father’s. “Can we go see Pop Pop now?”

“Yeah, buddy, we can go see Pop Pop.” Eddie takes you in once more where you sit. Tired as you are, his heart clenches violently, both because you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever met and the love of his life. You lean over to snatch Quinn’s bottle from the bedside table to start another feeding. “We’ll see you later. Love you.”

“Love you boys. Take a ton of pictures. Jim Jam, make sure to catch me a big fish.”

“I’ll catch you the biggest fish!” He jumps up and down excitedly, head bumping against the one Eddie has left to rest against his son’s curls. “Love you, Mommy.”

Lover’s Lake remains untouched by the world that evening.

Most are likely at work for the evening, while students, now on summer break, mill about the arcade, that popular new roller rink in town, and the ice cream shops in the shopping square.

Eddie had taken the afternoon off—had been doing so pretty often when possible at the shop to help care for the new baby—to make sure he’d be able to give James his full attention.

The little boy in question practically launches himself out of the car when Eddie unbuckles him from his car seat, glowing at the prospect of fishing with his dad and Pop Pop, a wide smile sliding across pink lips.

At Eddie’s soft utterance of “One second, buddy,” he curls his arms loosely around Eddie’s neck so his father can draw him up against hip. The door slams shut behind him to reveal Wayne standing in the distance against his car, fishing supplies resting on the ground near his feet.

James’ hand curls into Eddie’s curly hair resting against his shoulder, eyes bright as he asks, “Can I go say hi to Pop Pop?”

Eddie nods and helps him to the ground. Grins widely as the boy takes off in a burst of energy, little legs kicking under him, arms flailing at his sides before Wayne reaches down to grab him and hike him upward into his solid chest.

James’ lyrical laughter trails up the hill as Eddie makes his way over, the lunch bag that you prepared for them bouncing against his side with every footfall—another reminder of all the ways his life has changed since you walked into it nearing six years ago now.

He remembers fond moments of sitting at this very lake with the back doors of his van spread wide, you on your back, with your skin still smelling of sunblock, looking up at him like he was the only person in the world. He remembers your fingers trailing along his skin and endless cherry chapstick kisses, whispers of love like gentle caresses long after the day turned into night, and promises of forever echoing behind both your rib cages.

Now you’re married with two children, he’s just as in love if not more so now, and the lake that had been your private sanctuary away from the rest of Hawkins is the place he’ll make new memories with your son.

The same little boy, hewn together by your love.

The same little boy with your eyes, his father’s curls, joy and love in his heart, and laughter that makes Eddie wonder how he ever got so lucky.

You chose him, you still choose him every day, and what a lovely thing it was to be so wholly loved and accepted.

It’s funny, Eddie thinks, that he’s never really thought about what normal things fathers and sons share together. His own hadn’t been the greatest of examples, reaching him to hotwire a car without ever teaching him how to swim or ride a bike.

And he supposes that’s been his trepidation all along about raising a son. Four years in and he still doubts himself—still questions that you’ve given him not one, but two babies to guide through life. But it’s in those moments he remembers his Uncle’s care.

The way the man now outfitting his son in a too-big fishing hat and vest shows the same kindness he instilled in him when he’d arrived on his doorstep and moved to Hawkins.

His silent reverie is broken up by James’ laughter. A high peal that breaks through the silence of Lover’s Lake. Eyes drawing upward, he catches the little boy in his bright yellow boots raising a wriggling worm to eye-level, beaming from ear to ear.

“Daddy! Look—a worm!” He’s so proud of himself, peering into the bucket beside Wayne’s tackle box, reaching down to grab another and extending it to his father. “I got one for you!”

Eddie chuckles, joining his grinning Uncle’s side as he settles their tools down on the dock. “Buddy, your mom is going to kill me. There’s dirt under your nails already.”

“I’ll wash real good, don’t worry,” he says brightly, padding over to Wayne. “Pop Pop, what do we do now?”

“Well, now we hook the worm and cast our lines.”

“The worms? But they’re my friends.” James pouts, like he can’t fathom using them as bait, and before his bottom lip can start to wobble, Eddie’s dropping down to kneel in front of him.

“So…you know how Goldy back home eats those little flakes?” he asks, speaking of the goldfish Eddie had won for his son at the Fourth of July fair.

James nods, eyes watering. He sniffles. “Yeah. His gill food.”

Eddie chuckles. “Yeah, his gill food. The fish in the lake need that food too. But they need bigger food.”

“So the worms?” he asks sadly. At Eddie’s slow nod he continues, “Can I keep one?”

“Maybe,” Eddie concedes, and that’s enough to have the little boy resuming his spot at Pop Pop’s side, peering over the edge of the dock.

“Pop Pop?” James’ voice raises over the silence. Over the sounds of water lapping against the dock, the sounds of cicadas in the distance, the gentle chatter of birdsong.

Eddie turns to watch as his son leans into Wayne’s shoulder, gentle smile blooming along that sweet little face. Wayne cranes his neck downward, palm curling around the boy’s shoulder. “What’s it, Jim Jam?”

“What do we do now?” he asks, hands holding aloft that too-big fishing rod for his four-year-old body.

Eddie glances down at his own hands, where his own rod is resting within, turning his wedding ring round and around his finger. When his Uncle speaks once more, his head raises in piqued interest. “Well…now we wait. There’s this sayin’.”

“What’s the saying?” James asks.

“Good things come to those that wait,” Wayne says softly, brushing a thumb along James’ cheek, grinning when the little boy giggles gleefully.

“Daddy?” Eddie’s head jerks upward at the title, fondness bubbling up when his son places his fishing rod down on the dock and walks over to his father’s side. Thumps down onto the wood below to lean into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie welcomes him. Opens his arm enough for the little one to clamber into his lap, head over his father’s heart, palm curling into his ratty old Metallica tee. “What’s Pop Pop’s saying mean?”

“Well…” Eddie glances over his son’s head to look at his Uncle. Takes in his weathered features, the upturn of his lips, that comforting smile that has the tension roiling in his gut easing. “Remember when your Mommy said Quinnie was in her belly and you were so excited.”

“Yeah!” He giggles when Eddie’s fingers slide down to tickle his ribs, his father’s arms winding tighter around his smaller form.

“Remember how it took a long long long time before Quinn came?” Eddie asks, grinning softly when James dips his head. “And remember how it was so worth it, because now our family is even bigger? Well—fishing is like that. You have to wait until a fish is ready, but when it is…it’s worth it.”

“Oh…” His son dips his head once more. Those round eyes meet his father’s once more. “Daddy, can I have juice now?”

Conversation over, he supposes. About right for James’ attention span. Eddie laughs, heart warming at the fleeting nature of a four year old mind. Reaches into the cooler sitting near his hip on the dock to pull out a juice box. His fingers work swiftly to open the plastic wrapper, slipping the straw into the top before handing it to the boy. “Always, buddy.”

–

“You’re doin’ a good job, son. I know you don’t always feel like it, but ya are. And I'm proud of ya.”

Eddie doesn’t expect those words. Doesn’t know what to do with them really. For years his own father regarded him as little. Never cared for his hobbies, likes, interests. Barely paid attention to him most days. And then he’d up and left. Packed up his stuff and walked away from his wife, his son, the life he once knew. Made Eddie wonder if love was this abstract thing. Made him wonder if he deserved it at all.

Then, his mother had passed and he’d been sent to live with Wayne in this home that didn’t really feel like home. He’d taken him under his wing and loved him as best as he could. Showed him patience and love when Eddie had only known dismissiveness and passivity.

And then he’d met you. You with your bright smiles and that endless well of affection. He’d shied away from it at first. Pretended it meant nothing; tucked you away in his mind and pursued you under the guise of friendship. But you’d coaxed him out of the shadows into the light, tended to him and waited as he opened his heart to you, just as Wayne had, and made him question if he’d been wrong all along.

Maybe love wasn’t this abstract thing. Maybe it was something all were entitled to. Something all were deserving of. And that love had grown, had grown into two little souls that shared his heart. Two little souls made up of half his DNA. Two souls who looked to him for guidance, for affection, for a firm foundation to stand on.

He didn’t want to mess it up for his own kids. Wanted them to know every day how much he loved them, how he’d do anything for them, how he’d love his family in the way he’d never known growing up.

“You’re goin’ a good job,” Wayne reiterates, curling a palm around his nephew’s shoulder.

Draws him back to his present reality. In the distance, James talks to his new worm friends still wriggling around in the bucket Wayne had brought along. Promises he’ll take them home and his mom will take care of them. Eddie has yet to remind his son that he and his worm friends will have to part at the end of the day. Instead, he turns to his uncle and smiles, chest blooming with something foreign. An emotion that wells behind his eyes—fills his throat with a tightness he can’t seem to swallow around.

He clears his throat, brushing at his eyes. “I’m trying.”

“That boy loves you, son,” Wayne says, glancing out toward where James is now holding aloft one of his new friends. His head of curly dark hair tips to the side, mouth moving rapidly, likely telling a story like his own father does for him every night before bed. “Hell, I think half of parentin’ is figurin’ things out on the way. I mean, I didn’t know what I was doin’ with you and now here you are. A fine mechanic and a manager at the shop at that, a husband, and a damn good father. To not one, but two babies now. Your Momma would be so happy if she could see you now.”

Eddie glances back over to his son with tears swimming in his eyes. Watches that head of curly hair turn his way. The way his son’s lips curl upward at the sight of him, like he can’t contain the happiness of merely seeing his own father. And Eddie smiles back. Waves as his heart clenches within his chest. Because inside that little boy beats part of his own heart, and anyone can see from looking at James that he’s thriving.

That he’s happy and loved.

And Eddie knows, without a doubt, that he’s doing a damn good job.

You’re in the kitchen when Eddie returns. Little Quinn is resting in a sling against your chest as you work to put away newly cleaned dishes while a pot of noodles cook on the stovetop.

Eddie’s shouting he’s home as James rushes into the house, cooler thumping against his shorter thighs. Nearly smacks into your legs just as you hoist him up onto your free hip, somehow managing to not wake the baby in the process.

“Mommy, I caught the biggest fish!” He announces proudly, snuggling his face into the crook of your neck. “And when Quinnie is big enough, I’m gonna teach her how to catch one too!”

He swoops down to kiss his baby sister. Tells her he loves her against the soft curls at her forehead.

Eddie laughs brightly, sauntering into the kitchen to lean against the counter nearest you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Drops down lower to kiss Quinn’s head of dark hair. She stirs in the wrap, little noises of contentment filling the air, before she settles back down in her sleep.

“Did you, Jim Jam?” You ask him, eyes wide in your curiosity.

“Yes! And daddy helped. He had to fight the fish. But he won!”

Your eyes dart to Eddie’s, bouncing James higher up onto your hip. “Is that so?”

Eddie’s fingers card through James’ hair, lips pressing against his son’s temple. “I helped him reel it in.”

Your mouth drops open in overly dramatized shock, and James’ eyes light up before the both of you. Eddie swears right then and there he wants another baby (but he’ll ask you later, when Quinn’s not attached to you for feedings every two hours).

“Well…can I see this monstrous fish that the two of you had to fight to bring home?”

And there, in the little cooler, resides the smallest fish you’ve likely ever seen.

But damn, if Eddie’s not happier than he’s ever been in his life.

That feeling bleeds over into the evening. He rides that lovely peak until James and Quinn are finally put to bed, the house silent at last, save for the sound of your quiet breathing beside him in your bed.

“I love you, you know?” He says softly, brushing his hand over the curve of your waist.

Your hips shift backward against his, and he curls his other arm tighter around your form. Draws you nearer. “I love you, too. I’m happy you all had fun today.”

“Can you look at me for a second?” His voice is quiet. Shaky. You roll over at the broken timbre of his voice, hands coming up to thumb along both of his cheeks. At the brush of your lips against his, he continues, “Thank you.”

“For what, honey?”

He drops his forehead into yours. Inhales shakily. “I don’t know. Loving me. Giving me this family. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, but I’m grateful you picked me to do it with.”

“Eddie…” You wrap your arms tight around him. Hold his head against your chest where he focuses on the calming beat of your heart inside. “You’re a wonderful husband, an amazing son, and an incredible father. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You punctuate each word with a kiss against his crown, fingers brushing through the curls at the nape of his neck.

“We are so lucky to have you.”

And he smiles. Truly and honestly smiles against your chest, palms splaying over your hips, holding you close.

Because maybe he’s not perfect. Maybe neither of you are. You’re learning together what it means to parent as you navigate this new and unfamiliar territory—as both your babies grow and change and learn. But you’re doing it together and will be forever.

It brings him peace.

And later, when Quinn wakes with a shrill cry, and Eddie pulls her writhing body against his chest to try and soothe her with kisses to her brow, he recalls a conversation he had with Wayne earlier that evening.

“I just have one question?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do with my daughter when she grows up? She’s so little now. But shit—a girl?”

There’s a pause. “How’s your aim?”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, stirring from where you lay in bed, still tired from Quinn’s earlier feeding.

“Go back to sleep. I've got her.” Eddie draws her into the crook of his elbow, resting her against his chest. She wrinkles her features in another weaker cry, fists shaking in her anger as he rocks her gently. Soon enough the wailing subsides. Those tired eyes of her open to briefly take in her father’s face before shutting once more, mouth working over the bottle he slips into her parted lips, sighing happily into his skin. “Isn’t that right, Quinnie? Daddy’s always got you.”

#eddie munson fanfiction #lunaloveseddie #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff

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steddieasitgoes · 7 months

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Written for @eddiemonth Day 11 Prompt: Pirate read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

There are a lot of challenges that come with being a parent: dealing with tantrums, having to be responsible, cooking all the time, making friends with other parents (thank God Steve’s a people person because Eddie would rather stab himself in the eye with a fork than listen to Brenda brag about her kids — Newsflash Brenda, all our kids shit in the toilet, it’s not an accomplishment!) Fortunately, Eddie’s conquered them all, mostly. What he hasn’t conquered, though, is the biggest parenting challenge of all: saying no to their little girl.

But, like, can anyone even blame him? How is he supposed to look at Rosie with her big, brown eyes behind her purple round glasses and her lush, springy curls and tell her no? He’s not, that’s how. It’s even worse now that she’s learned how to wobble her lower lip and bat her eyelashes (Dustin and Erica are on babysitting probation for that one.)

It’s a move she’s already perfected and has been pulling all day to keep Eddie from doing any of his actual parenting duties while Steve’s held up at school in a marathon of parent-teacher conferences. But it’s fine. Better than fine if he’s straight with himself. There’s nothing Eddie loves more than some quality make-believe time with his daughter. Brings him right back to his Hellfire days. And once Eddie commits to a story, he’s in it until they reach the end (or until Rosie gets bored — whichever comes first).

He takes world-building just as seriously, which is why their living room has been transformed into a pirate ship. The long couch stands in as the main dock. An assortment of cardboard boxes from their latest Costco run stacked in a chaotic way on the front and the end, making up the stern and bow. A once-white pillowcase is now stained with purple marker — a Rosie original drawn in the middle — and hanging from the broom shoved into the couch cushions. (Steve’s not going to be happy about that one, but he’ll level with him later.)

Rosie is dressed in her favorite pirate costume. One of Steve’s button-up shirts and her favorite black leggings. Her feet (and most of her legs) are shoved into a pair of Eddie’s old black boots and the left lens in her glasses is covered in black duct tape (fuck, he hopes it doesn’t scratch them). The store-bought pirate hat disappeared weeks ago so in its place is one of Eddie’s old bandanas. Thankfully, the store-bought sword they bought her last year hasn’t gone missing (he’s pretty sure his streak of saying yes would have to end if she demanded access to the kitchen knives). Oh, yeah, and she’s refusing to answer to her name — responding to Eddie only when he refers to her as Cap’n Skittle.

“It’s time you walk the plank, traitor!” she shouts, hoisting a well-loved Garfield stuffed animal over her head. Hopping on the couch cushions, she glances at Eddie over her shoulder. “One-arm Gravy, prepare the plank.”

“Ay, Ay, captain,” Eddie says, saluting with the hand that isn’t pulled through the sleeve of his shirt and resting on his stomach. Rosie really made him commit to the whole one-arm thing, and he’s not about to suppress her creative whims.

With a careful step into the middle of the couch, Eddie reaches for one of their custom decorative pillows. It takes a few tries, but eventually, he manages to get one end of the throw pillow balanced on the edge of the couch while the rest hangs off.

“The plank is ready, Cap’n Skittle.”

“Time to meet your end, Garfield!”

Without a moment of hesitation, Rosie chucks the Garfield stuffed animal off of the couch, sending it flying across the room and into the bookshelf against the other wall. Thankfully, nothing breaks or falls over. Explaining to Steve why Rosie isn’t in bed yet is easy. Explaining how his mint condition replica of the Beamer broke, not so much.

“See you never traitor,” she cackles, far more sinister than a six-year-old should sound.

On second thought, maybe suppressing her creative whims is a good idea, Eddie thinks for a moment before shaking his head. Nah, Wayne let me do whatever I wanted, and I turned out fine.

“It’s time to celebrate!” She gathers the rest of the stuffed animal-turned-crew mates as she skips her way back to Eddie. Hoisting and swaying her sword high up in the sky in celebration.

“Not so fast,” Eddie says, shoving his arm back through the sleeve of his shirt. He peels off the paper mustache Rosie demanded he wear and yanks out a sword he’s been hiding in the waistband of his pajama pants.

Rosie screams, lowering her own sword in preparation for a duel. “Not Cap’n No Moosetach! I killed you.”

“You tried to be a hero Cap’n Skittle, but you failed to remember the most important thing about being a pirate captain,” Eddie says, voice an octave lower than usual. He takes a tentative step forward on the couch and then another and another until Rosie’s trapped between him and the armrest. He holds his sword up to her chin, not touching, but close enough for her eyes to go a little crossed as she stares at it. “We never die before we get our treasure.”

Eddie swings his sword, but Rosie’s quick, swinging hers back at him. It’s the beginning of an epic sword battle that has both of them doing the most. Rosie leaps at him, wrapping her arms and legs around his middle until they’re both toppling over onto the couch. She quickly gets to her feet, shoving her sword in Eddie’s face for a moment before he rolls off the couch and into the “waters” below.

“You’ll never get the da’blooms,” she shouts. Glancing over her shoulder at the hoard of stuffed animals on the couch, she shouts, “Man the cannons!”

Eddie barely has time to shield his head before she’s throwing pillow after pillow at him. Shouting orders left and right to her “crew mates.” Hoisting himself up, Eddie gets back on the couch and engages in another battle with Rosie. Swords clinking against each other as Eddie hums a made-up soundtrack for their battles. He gets lost in the humming and has no time to defend himself when Rosie jabs her bony elbow into his ribs.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans, massaging over the spot. “That hurt Rosie.”

“Who is this Rosie you speak of?” she growls, threatening him with her sword. “I don’t know any Rosies!”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from snorting. She may not biologically be his daughter, but oh man, does she make up for it in her quirks and personalities. After all, no one commits to a fantasy role more than a Munson.

The battle continues with both of them taking turns being the winners and losers until the front door knob starts to jingle.

“Avast Ye,” Eddie says, pulling Rosie in close. “A landlubber approaches.”

“Aye,” Rosie nods. “We can take him together.”

“A truce, you say? Only if you give me half of your Doubloons.”

“I’ll give you three.”

This time, Eddie does snort, earning a fierce glare from Rosie before the front door opens. Steve steps in, looking more exhausted than ever before. His lucky striped tie is pulled loose, his blazer slung casually over his shoulder.

“Aye, it’s the wealthy merchant Sir Steven of Stevensburg.”

Despite the pure exhaustion on his face and in his bones, Steve cocks his head to the side and arches his brow. “Sir Steve of Stevensburg? That’s the best you can come up with?” He toes off his work loafers and pads his sock-covered feet further into the mess of the living room.

“Hey,” Eddie whines, voice returning to normal. “Cut me some slack; we’ve been at this for hours.”

“Shush you landlubber!” Rosie says, leaping off the couch and into Steve’s arm. “If you want our Da’blooms, you have to fight me and Cap’n No Moosetach.”

“Da’blooms? I don’t need your da’blooms.”

“Then why are you braving these here seas, Sir Steven?” Eddie asks as he steps down from the couch, eager to get his hands on his clearly exhausted boyfriend.

“Well, I am a Prince in search of a fair maiden. A princess, actually,” he says, nuzzling his face into Rosie’s neck. She squeals in delight before squirming out of his arms and dropping to the floor. “Do you know of any princesses around here?” Steve cups his hands over his eyes, turning them into binoculars, as he glances around the room.

“Me! Me!” Rosie shouts, jumping up and down. “M’a princess! The prettiest princess in all the land.”

Steve crouches down to Rosie’s height. Hands on his hips and tired eyes squinted in a focused manner as he studies her pirate costume. “Hmm, I don’t know,” he puzzles, dramatically tapping his chin.

Eddie watches Steve take on the role of a Prince. When Rosie first started getting into make-believe, Steve struggled with the “yes and-ing” that comes with improvised play. It took a while for him to come out of his shell and allow himself to actually be goofy. If Eddie ever gets his hangs on the Harringtons he swears he’s going to ring their neck for stifling Steve’s creativity. Because dammit, his Steve is creative! Weaving epic adventure stories like it is second nature. Sometimes even better than Eddie can.

Eddie absolutely adores it when Steve gets like this. When the pressures of being an adult fade away all that matters is the story and Rosie’s imagination. It totally works for him too.

“You look like a pirate to me,” Steve says, finally, before standing up to his full height as he looks down on Rosie.

“Cap’n Skittle, to be exact,” Eddie says, saddling up next to Rosie with his sword outstretched in Steve’s direction. “The most vicious pirate to ever pirate the seas.”

“No, no,” Rosie shouts, yanking the sword from Eddie’s hands and tossing it aside, “‘M Cap’n Skittle now, but if you kiss me, I’ll turn into a princess! Kiss me, you’ll see!”

There’s a beat where Eddie and Steve share a fourth-wall-breaking glance. A silent should we be worried about this? and eh, it’s probably fine in return. They’re caught up in their half-concern, half-amused state that neither one realizes Rosie is moving until it’s too late. She throws herself at Steve, scaling her way up his legs and into his arms.

“Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!”

With a laugh, Steve dramatically dips Rosie in his arms before planting a kiss on her lips. He pulls away with a loud smooching sound that has Rosie giggling and then rips the bandana off of her head. “Be still, my beating heart. You are a Princess!”

“Told ya so,” Rosie says before quickly switching to her new Princess role. “Tis I Princess Buttercup and you’re Prince Peanut. Together we’re Prince and Princess Peanut Buttercup!”

Damn candy commercials, Eddie thinks, hiding a smile behind a lock of hair. Glancing at the clock, Eddie realizes it’s way past Rosie’s bedtime. A fact Steve also picks up on based on the look he’s giving Eddie. A raised brow followed by a dramatic wink. He can practically hear Steve saying, watch this — forever the expert at getting Rosie to bed.

“What say thee, Princess Buttercup? Shall we retire to our room for a royal slumber?”

“But m’not tired,” she pouts.

“Ah, but Princess Buttercup. You must sleep so tomorrow we can defeat the evil Lord Munsington.”

“Munsington? Really?” Eddie laughs, shaking his head.

“We’re not talking to you, Lord Munsington,” Rosie scolds, shooing Eddie away with her hand. “We’re going to need lots of sleep to defeat him, Prince Buttercup.”

“Well, then, we better get started,” Steve muses, carrying Rosies toward her bedroom.

Eddie doesn’t follow, letting Steve get some quality time in with Rosie before she falls asleep. Besides, Eddie’s all storied out after hours and hours of playing pirates and witches and fairy tea parties. He collapses on the couch instead, letting his own eyes shut until he hears Steve’s feet padding their way to him.

“Missed you,” Steve says, kissing the top of Eddie’s head before sinking into the couch cushion beside him. He’s already stripped out of his work clothes, clad now in a pair of worn sweatpants.

“Missed you too,” Eddie says, snuggling up to Steve’s side. His warm shirtless body feels relaxing on Eddie’s aching bones. Especially his ribs which are already bruising from Rosie’s brutal hit earlier.

“Looks like I missed a good storytelling day.”

Eddie hums. “Well, we lost the plot at the end there, but yeah, it was a good storytelling day.”

“Worth the mess of our living room?” Steve asks, glancing around at the cardboard boxes, stuffed animal graveyard, and pillows littering the floor.

“I’ll clean it up in the morning, promise,” Eddie says through a yawn. “Right now, Lord Munsington needs his sleep.”

“Come on then,” Steve huffs, hot air fluttering the unruly tendrils of Eddie’s hair. Heaving Eddie off of him, he stands to his feet before extending a hand out. “Prince Peanut is feeling generous and will allow Lord Munsington to sleep in his bed.”

“Will cuddling be allowed?” Eddie asks, slapping his hand into Steve’s.

With a swift yank, Eddie’s on his feet and being propelled into Steve’s awaiting arms. He wraps his own around Steve’s neck, fingers kneading at the knots in his neck. Steve groans in pleasure before his own arms wrap around Eddie’s middle, squeezing.

“Cuddles are always allowed.”

Untangling himself from Steve, he moves his right hand until it rests on the small of Steve’s back. “Then let’s get a move on it,” Eddie says, guiding them towards their bedroom.

#eddiemonth #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #dad eddie munson #dad steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #parent steddie #dad steddie #kid fic #teacher steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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lemonzestywrites · 2 months

Text

writing patterns

tagged by @jeeyuns @devirnis ty lovelies!!

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

a foundation of trust a love we cannot see

| buck/eddie, WIP, explicit, BDSM, slow burn, fwb (3/17 ch. 61k) |

Weird calls aren’t unusual in their field. That’s a simple given with their job- one that Eddie has definitely come to learn by now.

===

let me find some warmth inside this little love of mine

| buck/eddie, teen, new year’s eve, first kiss, mutual pining (4k) |

Loud and Eddie are two things that usually have a record of not mixing well. Eddie can deal with chaotic. He can deal with crazy and hectic and adrenaline seizing his body during every call.

===

the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love

| buck/eddie, explicit, introspection, fwb, getting together (25k) |

Eddie wants to be supportive about this; really, he does.

===

the place in my heart that used to be yours

| buck/eddie, general, angst, bedside vigils, feelings realization (1.9k) |

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

===

temptation comes from wants we cannot yet claim

| buck/eddie, teen, angst, coma, getting together, dream (8k) |

There’s a soft feeling that gradually, from the depths of Eddie’s chest, finds itself being emerged as he’s eased awake. The slumber makes its way out of his body in a slow, methodical pull. It makes no rush to leave, allowing Eddie to enjoy the gentle serenity that the early morning still has to offer.

===

our sweet love (built on the unspoken things)

| buck/eddie, 5+1, getting together, mutual pining, non-sexual intimacy (8k) |

Eddie isn’t really sure he could really classify himself as a coffee person.

===

five more minutes

| buck/eddie, established relationship, snuggle, morning cuddles (2k) |

Eddie really wishes he could learn how to properly sleep in. To lie in bed, asleep without a care on a weekend like this, and wake up sometime past 9 o’clock. To him, ‘sleeping in’ has always been whenever he finds himself the luxury of having to wake up anytime past 5:45 am, but today, like most days, his inner body clock works against him. Even without his alarm, Eddie found himself easing out of slumber, the world around him growing more present and alert as the sleep rolled off his shoulders.

===

jadeite hearts could never cost this much

| buck/eddie, first kiss, sharing a bed, non-sexual intimacy (6k) |

If Eddie is being completely honest with himself, he has definitely thought about kissing Buck a couple of times before (maybe more than a couple if he’s being generous). He can’t exactly pinpoint when he started doing it; there’s no definitive moment that set it all off. Just one day, he had found himself staring off at Buck’s lips, transfixed on a phantom feeling that he could only dream to experience. His mind drifted, wondering what it would feel like, how soft Buck’s lips would be, where exactly he’d place his hands. It had taken an embarrassing couple of minutes before he had caught himself, only then realizing the severity of the situation and what that meant.

===

t-rex kisses

| buck/eddie, established relationship, late night conversations, non sexual intimacy (1.7k) |

Buck loves his job. Undeniably so. It’s probably one of, if not the best, things that’s ever happened to him, and he could never imagine life without it. It’s brought him so many amazing things in his life now: belonging, safety, love, a place to call home, people to call family, and in recent developments- the newfound love of his life.

===

exactly what you were looking for

| buck/eddie, domestic fluff, established relationship, marriage proposal (3k) |

Eddie is 6 years old, sitting in Adriana’s room, watching as his older sister plays with her Barbies without a care in the world, when in the smallest, most curious voice, he asks, “How do you know when you’ve found your true love?”

===

it’s super interesting to see my little habits all laid out like this! obviously i might have a preference on pov 😅 but i love doing little character introspections or even just random little factoids i later dive into- this is very fun!!

tagging- @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @kitteneddiediaz @aroeddiediaz @wildlife4life and anyone else interested!!

#911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #zestywrites

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corrodedcoughin · 1 year

Note

I fully believe that Robin is a chaotic sleeper like she kicks in her sleep and even sleepwalks sometimes which ya know wouldn't be a problem but her and Steve share a bed sometimes - platonically - since starcourt cus of nightmares. And like it's fine it's fine it's actually kinda grounding reminds Steve that's she's alive and well when she's kicking his ribs even when he's on the verge of falling out of the bed to get away from her

But then! Eddie starts sharing with them too for the same reason. And this man, this man sprawls out in his sleep, completely starfished over the mattress even though he never starts out the way, his limbs always migrate. And he talks. He mumbles shit in his sleep. And Steve is caught in between them. Robin on one side kicking him awake and Eddie's on the over limbs all up in Steve's space keeping Steve entertained with his unconscious musings. Steve doesn't mind not really it's better than a house that's too big and too quiet

Steve sleeping like a rigid plank of wood. On his back barely moving if he can help it. He doesn’t mind, not when his favourite people are with him and he knows they are safe, what’s a little bruising and a few hours of interrupted sleep?

He says he doesn’t mind but one night for some reason Robin wakes up, goes to the toilet or something and when she comes back she looks at Steve. Properly looks at him then goes round to Eddie’s side and pinches his nose until he wakes up. And he does so with a gasp, somehow not waking Steve. Robin thinks he must sleep pretty deep, huh weird, never used to be like that.

Anyway, she makes eye contact with Eddie, brings a finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet and points at steve. And there he is, they both stare utterly bemused but a little concerned. He’s got his arms glued to his side and legs stretch out long, almost looking like he’s bracing for something? And he’s squashed into Robin’s side of the bed but likes he’s been pushed there? Initially they both think it’s a response to the upside down and go back to bed. But then the next day eddie mentions to Steve that Steve has bruises that Eddie definitely didn’t cause and Steve just smiles and says something about Robin being an ‘active sleeper. Living out her ass kicking dreams of something, I don’t know man. She’s fine though. It’s fine’

So eddie ever so gently (read: with no tact and somewhat accusingly) tells Robin that she’s why Steve sleeps Like That. The thing is Robin spoke to Steve too and HE said that Eddie likes to have space to sleep and Steve doesn’t want to disturb that so he just doesn’t. It devolves into Eddie and Robin pointing fingers, headlocks, biting, name calling all until Steve comes in from the living room after one of his naps and he isn’t ready to untangle them so he just turns around and goes back to the couch

#poor Steve he’s so tired but he’ll sacrifice it all for Eddie and Robin #when dustin joins in one night Steve ends up winding around him to protect him #dustin and Steve end up at the foot of the bed but they are bruiseless #anon this was so fun thank you #stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #ask #anon

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oneforthemunny · 11 months

Note

that photo you reblogged of wayne, eddie and vega is so funny

do you think when she first started exhibiting her wildness eddie went to wayne and was like ? help ? and wayne was like ! thats what you were like !

so when kensie was little (I know the ask is about vega but I promise it makes sense lol) she’s like extremely emotional all the time. stage five clinger, separation anxiety to the max, and she’s just got a lot of big emotions and big feelings. she cries at everything.

neither one of you really know what to do, but you’re a little bit more understanding. maybe it’s more so because it’s maternal instincts and she’s clinging to you all the time so it’s easier for you to be understanding and soft with her, but eddie starts to get frustrated. he’s a new parent, relatively, and he’s not a perfect parent by any means, and it’s hard being a parent. especially when he can’t understand why she’s crying so much.

wayne’s out visiting, because he always is, and kensie starts crying over something or another, something eddie thinks is just absurd and he kinda gets huffy with her for all of .5 seconds before wayne’s about to slap him upside the head.

he takes kensington, and is really gentle and calm, talks to her sweetly and she calms down. eddie’s like ??? how did you do that. “you gotta listen to her, boy. don’t try to rationalize s’much. listen.”

“but she loses her shit over the smallest things that are no big deal-“

“to you.” wayne narrows his eyes at him. “they’re not a big deal, to you. you know better, understand more because you can. she’s a baby still, ed. she doesn’t understand everything and some things are new and upsetting, and that’s ok. you were the same way… ‘til your daddy got tired of it.”

that sends eddie over the edge and from then on, he tries to listen instead of getting frustrated or rationalizing. wayne’s got this very calm, steady energy (zarah inherited it). like he’s very go with the flow, but also knowledgeable, and he helps eddie a lot as a parent.

from then on, eddie goes to wayne all the time. befkre, he wouldn’t do it as much because he felt like a ‘bad parent’ but really, it was helpful to everyone.

then along came miss vega jo. she’s a whoopsie. wayne’s older and she’s unlike any of the other girls, including the twins. she’s fucking insane. literally unhinged from baby times. you think it’s because of the age gap with her sisters, that she grew up around them, but whatever it is, she’s crazy.

eddie’s like whatever I can handle her, but she’s on another level. like she’s a bad ass kid when she’s little lmao. like very bad and he’s kinda like??? what do I do when she’s this insane??? and she’s sweet, but she’s just high energy all the time… with him lol. she like lives to torment eddie bc she thinks it’s hilarious.

then with you she’s a terror but she’s sweet, and with wayne she’s a different child entirely. calm and sweet and gentle.

eddie really is like how the fuck do you know how to do this?? and wayne is like??? she’s you.

“I was never that bad, wayne, my dad would’ve beat me.”

“boy, you were worse. you used to talk and talk and run and get into anything and everything. you never sat down- you still don’t!”

and eddie’s pouty like it isn’t true but… it is. and really, vega thrives off reaction. so when she does something chaotic and eddie has a naturally dramatic reaction, like he always does, that just fuels her fire. plus, he’s got chaos just radiating off of him naturally.

wayne tells him just to calm down. be calm with her, let yourself be relaxed, and she’ll match that. sure enough, she’s less of a terror when he does. she will talk through the entire movie, but she stays sitting next to eddie, asking a million questions that he answers calmly to keep her attention.

wayne is a wizard with kids and eddie’s thankful for him <3

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #rockstar!eddie munson

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soupnwaffles · 3 months

Note

any little!eddie munson headcannons? you almost never post about him besides cameos ;(

- 🎀

oooooh i love eddie so much you don’t even know— biggest sibby vibes from him!! i haven’t done headcannons in a bit, so here you go :3

the chaotic older kid of the party. eddie’s a flip (w/ no particular lean), and his headspace isn’t as mapped out as everyone else but he’s around 6-7

that being said, he acts different depending on who’s around— older, more ‘taking you under my wing’-way with stevie + the younger kids, but like a total baby when nancy and wayne come around

obsessed with dragons. you thought it was bad when he was big? now everything has to relate back to them, and every dragon he sees has to be immediately fawned over and discussed !

he chews his nails bad, and whenever someone catches him, he switches over to gnawing at the ends of his hair

suuuper into wayne’s old records when he’s little— they remind him of the past, and wayne’s always happy to turn them on to see his boy’s smile :)

always trying to sneak something he’s not supposed to !! everything just seems to be ten times better tucked in his pocket than sitting all alone

he’s a rock collector— toddling around the trailer park looking for the super-duper-coolest-ever rocks to show off to the party !!

a total troublemaker.

really, he never fails to wind up in the corner or having to write lines, or some other thing nancy’ll make up so ‘the lesson sticks’

he’s a clinger when he’s feeling fuzzier than usual, and whenever he goes down as far as that, eddie trails around his carers, hiding under shirts, and hanging off of them like a koala

he’s a sensory seeker already, but being small increases that by tenfold !! he’s rubbing up against his favorite textures, and spinning just for the heck of it :3

he’s always coloring or doodling, pages on pages of scribby dragons and other mythical creatures he tries to recreate from his figurines

just about everyone’s got a dragon or two tucked away with eddie’s name on it somewhere in their room. he gives them out like business cards

he’s nightmare prone obviously, and when things get particularly bad, he’s knocking on the door to the mayfield trailer so max can entertain him till he falls back asleep

and when susan’s in better shape, she silently leaves a few of those triscuts and cheese cubes eddie likes so much on max’s dresser

he’s all about being loud, loud, loud !! loud, stimmy stomps, loud outside voice inside the trailer’s thin walls, loud, dramatic reactions when he doesn’t get his way—

when he’s sick, he’s a monster, but god forbid he be little and sick at the same time. nothing but complaints and whining and a causing a scene. and all for a common cold.

just. a buzzing ball of energy !

eddie is sooooo fun to hc stuff for so super glad for this ask !! he’s a devious little curtain climber, and i love him for it :3

#agere #fandom agere #stranger things agere #age regression #agere headcanons #stranger things #eddie is everything when he’s little #!!!#he’s /the/ moment #:33 #and wayne’s just struggling to keep him all in one piece by the end of the day #++ babysitter max? i think yes #aaaaa #🎀 anon #soup responds

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somebodycallhr · 7 months

Text

Good morning

Steve and Eddie are awkward no doubt. For both of them in their respective ways it’s their first *real* relationship, that actually means something. Between a nervous Eddie unused to any endearing touch or simple kindness, and Steve who’s not sure how to have a relationship with a man trying desperately to find his role to fill. They’ve both heard all their lives exactly who they’re supposed to be and trying to find a way to be happy as themselves is very difficult. And despite all this trouble Eddie is still healing his wounds still fresh, everything is moving fast and chaotically but somehow in a good way.

So here they find themselves at the kitchen table Eddie waiting impatiently for coffee to brew. Talking and laughing. Steve spent the night again, he spends many nights with Eddie now while he dotes and tells his boyfriend he’s just enjoying their alone time he can’t stand the thought of something happening to Eddie especially without him there. He can’t endure that again.

They’re so alike the two of them, but strikingly different in one major way. Eddie is new to love and partnership, he’s never had a boyfriend longer than a month or two and even then he didn’t really care much about them. Steve however falls so quickly, so desperate to love and be loved. They can’t quite agree on timing. Eddie is afraid that he’ll care to much and lose Steve one way or another. Steve already cares and is terrified of losing another person he loves. They’ve both seen to much pain and lost far to many

The only thing that distracts them from their unending anxieties is each other. They have to hold dearly the simple moments in order to keep calm. Most people wouldn’t call their relationship perfect hell even healthy but it’s new and they’re learning. Eventually they’ll learn how to express themselves to each other, to get the timing right.

The Simple memories are the most important, like now. Steve watches this beautiful boy in front of him, his eyes dreary and hair messy. Pouring himself a cup of black coffee and complaining about how early it is. Steve wants nothing more than to give this boy everything in the world, he wants everyone else to see how amazing and crazy and funny and adorable this boy is. If everyone saw Eddie through Steve’s eyes there’d never be a doubt about him, no one would be picketing and protesting his release. No one would sneer at him for his sexuality or hobbies, everyone would hold this boy with gentle hands and kind eyes, like Steve does.

“Enjoying the show sweetheart.” Eddie says with a sarcastic smile draped across his lips. He saunters back to the table truly putting on a show. There’s no pain in the world that could break Steve’s joy watching his boyfriend be himself, being silly and happy despite the pain he’s in. Eddie is so strong, so brave. “Of course.” He purrs back as Eddie sits on the table in front of him. Eddie whimpers at the movement immediately stopping their flirting.

“Are you alright? What do you need?” Steve’s asks gently brushing his fingers across the bandages covering Eddie’s legs, the ones he’s guessing are hurting. “I’m alright, I’ve had worse. And besides they’re mostly healed” Eddie says though Steve would disagree three weeks isn’t enough time to heal his deep wounds. “Stay here I’ll grab your pain meds.” Steve says the anxiety still reaching his bones, even if he knows everyone is okay he still worries every day about Dustin Eddie Wayne he spends so much time worrying about and taking care of the people he loves.

Steve finds Eddie’s medicines and rushes them back to the kitchen and Eddie waiting patiently. “There’s my pretty boy, thought ya might’ve gotten lost.” Eddie purrs again eliciting a small love sick sigh from steve.

Eddie takes his meds with a swig of his dark coffee, and wraps his arms around steve in front of him, the kitchen counter holds him almost equal height with steve, who starts gently running his hands through Eddie’s hair. “I love your hair.” Steve mumbles quietly and presses a kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “Hmm maybe I’m the pretty boy here then.” Eddie teases with a smirk. “You’re my hoe.” Steve says grinning brightly as Eddie laughs. “I ain’t a hoe!” He says taking another sip from his coffee to hide his small blush and hush his laughter. “I know baby.” Steve leans in closer to Eddie pausing for permission before pressing their lips together, he kisses Eddie with as much passion and he feels burning inside him, deeply but gently caressing his leg and holding a hand on the back of Eddie’s neck.

After a moment Steve breaks looking to the side quickly and unhappy expression spread across his face. “What’s wrong?” A mildly panicked Eddie asks before Steve’s turns to face him again. “I can’t stand black coffee.” Steve says with a small amused smile. Without another word Eddie grabs the orange juice his boyfriend had been drinking and takes a gulp, before quickly pulling Steve back in for more.

They both can’t wait for Eddie to be *fully* healed.

———

The brain rot is here :)

#steddie #fluff #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #oneshot #ficlet #gay shit is my only source of dopamine

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stevespookington · 1 year

Text

(featuring steve’s parents being neglectful so heads up for that)

All of Steve's friends are always busy during his birthday, he's used to it. It is Christmas after all. A time for families to spend together... well it, it should be.

Steve comes home from preschool one day and he babbles at his mom about Santa and can they leave out cookies, please? Steve doesn’t know how to make cookies but his teacher talked about hot chocolate chip cookies and milk and does this mean that Santa shares his birthday—his mom snaps at him and rubs her head asking for quiet. There will be presents sure, but Santa doesn’t need cookies. He doesn’t learn that year, but isn’t surprised the year after. In the letter his teacher helped him write he asked for a doctor’s kit with the headphone things just like they have in the dress up box at school. He gets a bike that is too big for him.

He learns that he is just for show when he is 9. Dressed up in stiff pants and a scratchy shirt, paraded around while his parents grip his shoulders, steering him towards the new important customer or boss or whoever. There are never any other kids at the parties. There is never any cake either.

They stop hosting the parties at home when Steve turns 13. They say that it is due to the new hotel and its extraordinary ballroom. Steve knows it’s because he isn’t an asset anymore. 12 is pushing it, but he hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet and he was still… cute. Something to show off. Teenagers are just annoying. The pizza place delivers dessert at least…

He celebrates Christmas, if not his birthday, with Nancy after the demogorgon. He didn’t mention his birthday and well, it didn’t come up either. He got a Christmas present at least, a car model that matched the picture on his wall. It goes on his desk next the bowling pin, more decor that doesn’t really match who he is. It was still one of Steve's best Christmases ever. It... it didn't last though. It was bullshit

Robin shows up with a smile, a birthday gift, and a ride to her house (her mom refuses to leave without him, not that he would say no). Steve doesn't even know how she got his address. How she knew about his birthday, but her mom is in the car waving and Robin has a present wrapped in birthday paper in her hands. A birthday present here and evidently a Christmas present under the tree too. It’s chaotic and loud and messy, but he eats Christmas dinner with Robin and her family. And she comes out of the kitchen carrying a cake later and it’s his best birthday ever.

He celebrates with Robin the year after too. But the others look at him sort of pityingly when his birthday comes up, he tries to wave it off. At least Eddie just looks, there’s no pity, just consideration.

The next year Steve and Robin get permission from her mom to be late to the festivities. Robin has a surprise party to get Steve to somehow after all. (It took a lot of planning to figure out Steve’s favorite things for a party and where to host it, they couldn’t be late!)

All of Steve's friends are usually busy during his birthday, he had been used to it. It is Christmas after all. A time for families to spend together...

Well, this year? Steve? Steve spent his birthday and Christmas with his friends. His friends and his family.

#stranger things #featuring steves shitty parents #cw parental neglect #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #ori writes

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complicatedchelsea · 1 year

Text

Fallen Through Time For You

Chapter Five: Conspiracies for Breakfast

Masterlist:

(gif not mine)

(Sydney's POV)

The sound of a crash and loud laughter jolted me awake the next morning. The sun was coming in through the window and the blankets on the ground were empty. I couldn’t tell what time it was, but it seemed Max and El left me to sleep while they joined the others. My bladder made the choice for me about leaving the room or waiting till someone came to find me.

I opened the door quietly, but no one was waiting outside for me. Taking a quick glance down the hallway, I assumed that most of the noise was coming from the kitchen. No one was in the bathroom when I entered, so I took a minute to gather my wits. I washed my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was still here in the Byers house, which meant I was still here in the 1980’s. All this meant that this wasn’t some weird dream, I actually woke up here and the mark on my wrist was real.

I glanced down at the silver mark. It still stuck out as much as it did yesterday. I traced it slowly, it still felt like a part of me. So it was real, I reassured myself. Eddie was my soulmate. I fell through time to show up at the feet of my soulmate. What the hell even is this world?

I left the bathroom before I could fall into a deeper rabbit hole. Being around Eddie, he helped silence most of these thoughts by just being around me. It was like he took up all of my attention, and I didn’t have time to think these overwhelming thoughts. The closer I got to the kitchen, the louder the talking got. I practically ran into Will as I rounded the corner.

“Shit!” I said as I laid a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to run into you.”

Will smiled. “It’s okay, it can get pretty chaotic when we are all together. Did we wake you?”

I shook my head. “Of course not. It was about time I got my lazy self out of bed.”

“Did you want some breakfast?” Will asked as he scratched the back of his neck. “Mom’s making pancakes.”

“Has everyone already eaten?” I asked. I really didn’t want Joyce to feel like she had to make me something if everyone was already done. I could wait.

“I was actually waiting for you,” Will said with a small smile. “Eddie mentioned that you don’t want anyone to go out of their way for you. I can be the same way at times. So I offered to be your breakfast buddy if he wasn’t here.”

I blinked at him, surprised that Will was so willing to wait for me. “Eddie isn’t here yet?”

“Another thing you might have in common,” Will started as he grabbed my arm and led towards where Joyce was at the stove. “Eddie can sleep like the dead and not wake up for anything. That’s the only reason why he isn’t here yet.”

“Huh,” I said. “He was here pretty late last night waiting for Wayne. He seems like the type to either run on no hours of sleep and just crash when he’s exhausted.”

Will laughed. “You have no idea how much these past few months we’ve seen him just crash and sleep through a whole hour of Dustin arguing with Steve.”

Joyce turned to look at me from the stove, a plate of pancakes in hand. “Morning!”

“Morning,” I returned with a smile. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”

She waved a spatula at me. “Nonsense, you needed it. I was just hoping the kids didn’t wake you from being so loud.”

I waved a hand. “I’ve slept through worse.”

Will picked up a plate and handed me one before taking one for himself. “Would you like some orange juice?”

“Sure,” I said as Will darted towards the fridge. Joyce motioned for me to reach out my plate as she placed a few pancakes and some bacon on it.

“Do you want me to make you anything else?” She asked as she shoved a fork in my hand as well. “I don’t mind, all the boys are really picky so it’s no issue. We’ve got syrup on the table, there is some jelly in the fridge, or-”

“Joyce,” I said with a small laugh. “I’m okay, really. This is way more than I usually eat in the morning. Thank you.”

“You don’t eat in the morning?” She asked me as she started loading up another plate as Will reappeared with two glasses.

“Not exactly,” I said as I sent him a smile and took one of the glasses from his hand. “It’s a bloodsugar thing? If I eat too early it makes me nauseous; so normally I just keep something with me in case I get lightheaded.”

Joyce didn’t like that answer, I could see the way her eyebrows pinched together and her lips drew into a line. “What about your mom? Did she not try to keep food in the house that wouldn’t make you sick?”

I shrugged my shoulders, not liking the idea of Joyce being mad at me.

“Sweetie,” Joyce started as I heard her put down the spatula and grab one of my hands that was holding the plate. “You give me a list of some of these safe foods and I promise that I will keep them here for when you need them.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” I stammered out. Some of that stuff was hard to keep on the shelves in my time, god forbid I make life harder for anyone else here. “Really, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Joyce said as she turned back around. “What kind of parent doesn’t make sure their kid eats?”

I didn’t answer her question and Will just nudged me in the direction of a dining table in the connecting room. Steve, Hopper, and Robin were already seated at the table with full plates. Hopper was sitting at the head of the table, Robin and Steve sitting across from each other on separate sides of the table. Steve smiled and motioned to the seat next to him.

“Just so you know, Mom wasn’t mad at you.” Will said as set his plate down next to Robin. “She’s very protective of all her kids. Ask anyone.”

Will didn’t mention it again as I sat next to Steve, pushing the food around on my plate. Robin was telling some story about a rude customer, her arms gesturing wildly. Behind her I could see the rest of the party sitting around the living, cartoon’s seeming to be playing on the TV. I managed to eat a few bites of the pancakes before I could feel the heaviness in my stomach and decided that maybe waiting a bit could help me finish the plate.

“So did you end up getting any sleep last night?” Steve asked and it took me a second to realize he was looking in my direction. “You know, after your little adventure outside?”

He said it with a teasing smile and I just rolled my eyes before lightly hitting his elbow with mine. “I did, actually. I just knew that I had a protector in the next room and that gave me the power to relax.”

“Okay, smartass.” Steve said with a chuckle. “How are you feeling this morning? Still freaked out?”

Hopper interrupted me before I could answer Steve. “You went somewhere last night?”

“No,” I said, scared. Hopper was sending me this look like he caught me selling drugs to a minor. “Of course not. I couldn’t sleep so I ended up on the swing out front for a bit. I just needed a few minutes alone to think about some stuff.”

“Is that what you are calling Eddie now?” Robin snorted as she shoved another bite into her mouth. “‘Your alone time’?”

“Robin” I hissed as I felt my face go red. I rubbed at my face, hiding from the other gazes at the table and let out a groan.

“So that’s why he’s not here now,” Will said and I could hear the humor in his voice. “You kept him up late?”

I lifted my head to send a glare towards Will and he just laughed. “Eddie was already out there when I got out there. I had some questions, and he answered them.”

Steve let out another laugh. “We’re just ragging you, Sydney. Eddie’s like a freakin’ vampire. Guy barely sleeps at night.”

I sent a look towards Hopper and he was just sitting back and watching me, lighting up a cigarette. It seemed to be a battle of wills as I didn’t want to look away, but he folded with a sign and rubbed at his beard. “Do you want to know what I found out at the station?”

I sat up in the chair. “You found something?”

Before Hopper could answer me, there was an obnoxious knock at the door. Will rolled his eyes and stood up to answer it, and I could hear Eddie’s chain’s as he entered the house.

“Morning!” He said cheerfully. I watched him greet his way through the living room before he followed Will back toward the table. When he spotted me, Eddie sent me a wide smile and I couldn’t help to send him one back. He surveyed the table before grabbing a chair from the small table in the kitchen and planting himself down beside me at the end of the table.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Eddie greeted me as he leaned forward to give the hand closest to him a squeeze. “Sleep well?”

I nodded. “Feeling better now that you’re here.”

“Is that so?” Eddie sent me a smirk and leaned back. “I have to say I feel the same.”

The sound of a throat cleaning at the other end of table drew my attention back to Hopper. “Are you two going to keep this up or do you want to hear what I found?”

Eddie leaned out of my space a bit. “Floor is yours, Chief.”

Hopper let out another grunt before taking another drag on putting out the cigarette. “So you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Bad news,” I said as I let my eyes flick to the rest of the group at the table. “Always bad news.”

Hopper let out a sarcastic chuckle. “So bad new’s is I couldn’t find anything about you. You are not listed in any missing person’s boards, no criminal record, or birth records. Sydney Thompson does not exist.”

“Not yet,” Eddie pointed out.

Hopper nodded. “That is still a possibility. But I was hoping that her name would at least pop up in the system. It would’ve made this whole thing easier.”

“When has anything been easy for us?” Joyce said as she made her way towards the table, coffee mug in hand. When she saw Eddie, she frowned. “Eddie, I’m sorry but I’ve already cleaned up the kitchen. Did you want me to make you something for breakfast?”

“Don’t worry about it Ms.Byers” Eddie said with a smile. “I should have been here earlier. I’ll be okay.”

“No,” I said as I nudged my plate in his direction and held out my fork. “I’m not going to be able to finish. Share with me?”

“Didn’t we already argue about this?” Eddie laughed as he took the fork from me. “You need to eat.”

“I did eat some,” I pointed out. “Who says I’m finished?”

I didn’t let him argue back as I turned back to Hopper. Joyce had moved to stand by his side, slightly leaning into him with a smile on her face as she tried to hide it behind her cup. “What’s the good news?”

Hopper leaned forward so his arms rested on the table. “Good news is that your parent’s do exist. I was able to find their names in the system. Your father is living somewhere up north and your mother is living in North Carolina.”

I frowned. “Are you sure that’s right? By this time my father was already living in North Carolina. He should be sixteen.”

Hopper nodded. “His criminal record showed his last known address as a small town in Maryland.”

“Criminal record? My father doesn’t have a criminal record. Unless…” I trailed off. Unless he did get trouble up there and that caused them to never move down here, which means he wouldn’t meet my mother in this universe. Meaning I wouldn’t exist.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said as he shoved the glass of orange juice in my hands. “You are looking a little pale, drink something.”

I took a few drinks before handing the glass back to him. I watched as he drank after me before setting the glass on the table. He picked up a piece of pancake with the fork and offered it to me. I took the fork from him, taking another bite before turning back to Hopper. I felt a little nauseous, but I didn’t think it was from eating too early.

“He’s never going to meet my mother,” I said to Hopper. “By this age he was bothering her in homeroom while she kept turning him down and then sixteen years later I came about. So that means I won’t exist in this universe.”

“Are you sure?” Steve spoke for the first time since Hopper started. “Maybe you have the date wrong?”

I shook my head. “No. They were already living in North Carolina by the time he was thirteen. This means that they won’t meet.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Robin asked. “That there won’t be two Sydney’s running around in twenty years?”

Hopper rubbed his chin. “I don’t know. I also don’t know which alternative would have helped us here. I was going to do some more digging because we can’t be too sure that you are Sydney Thompson.”

I stilled from where I was pushing the breakfast plate back towards Eddie. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Hopper started as he looked up at Joyce. “Just like with your memories, can we even be sure that you are Sydney Thompson?”

“But what about the marks?” Eddie asked, confused. “You saw how she reacted to the mark!”

Hopper held a hand out. “But we also know that the mark is the name that your soulmate goes by. Why don’t you think ‘Edward Munson’ isn’t on her wrist instead of Eddie? Just because she goes by Sydney Thompson doesn't mean that she is.”

It almost felt like my head was spinning. This was a lot. The concept of my memories not being real, my name not being real. I could feel the panic creeping up into my chest, my palms beginning to sweat with the idea that I literally have nothing to me. Not even my name.

“Sweetheart. Hey, Sydney” Eddie’s voice was soft as I felt his hands cup my face and tilt it towards him. “Look at me, baby.”

I met his dark brown eyes. He seemed so calm, so level headed during all this. Why wasn’t he freaking out? Wasn't his world tilting just as mine? He scooted closer, taking over my complete line of vision. I felt his thumbs slowly caress my cheeks as he took an exaggerated deep breath. I tried to follow suit, closing my eyes to try and calm down.

“Hey,” Eddie said again and I opened my eyes again to look back at him. Trying to stay tethered to something and not go into a full blown panic attack. I think Eddie could read it clearly on my face. “You are Sydney Thompson. That is your name on my wrist and that is my name on yours. We know that is the truth.”

“But-” I started before he interrupted me.

Eddie’s voice got lower, his tone a bit sharper. “You. Are. Sydney Thompson. There is no question. You wouldn’t have shown up here if it wasn’t. I’ve been trying really hard not to freak you out about this stuff, but I’m laying claim here. You are my soulmate and I am yours. That’s what brought you here. You, Sydney Thompson, belong here with me. That is not going to change. What I’ve been feeling for the past twenty-four hours? You can’t make that shit up.”

I took another deep breath before reaching up and placing my hands on his. Grounding. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Eddie reaffirmed as he ducked his head to be in line with mine.

I nodded and Eddie dropped his hands from my face, but he didn’t let go of my hands. I let his words anchor me back down. I was who I said I was. I wouldn’t be in this room with these people if I didn’t belong here. I wouldn’t feel what I feel about Eddie if I didn’t belong with him here. I might not be from where I think I am, but I’m here now and that’s what matters.

My eyes searched his and what I was even looking for, I didn’t know. But his eyes were so sincere, so genuine that I had to believe him. Since I fell into his life, Eddie has been nothing but honest with me. If I could completely trust anyone here, it would be him.

I realized I had an audience and felt myself flush as I tore my eyes from Eddie and looked around the table. No one seemed angry, all watching me with careful eyes.

“Jim,” Joyce hissed. “You need to apologize. You just can’t go around saying stuff like that! Especially at times like this!”

“You belong here with us,” Steve said as he directed my attention back towards him. “Don’t doubt that for a second. You’re stuck with us now.”

I saw Robin nod enthusiastically. “It’s official, you are part of the ‘Bullying Harrington Club’, you can’t leave now.”

Steve let out a low whine and Will just chuckled across from me.

“Sydney,” Hopper drew my attention back towards him. “You want to speak about this privately?”

I nodded and with a quick glance towards Joyce, I pushed my chair back to follow Hopper into the kitchen. Eddie wouldn’t let me release his hand, instead pushing his chair back and following me. I raised an eyebrow but didn’t complain and let him follow me.

Hopper eyed Eddie. “Privacy?”

“Sorry Chief,” Eddie said with a grin that didn’t give off the vibe of amusement. The hand that was holding mine let go and moved to wrap around my shoulder and I just melted into his side, seeking for the comfort he gave me last night. “Packaged deal now. Can’t go one without the other.”

Hopper shook his head and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before making eye contact with me. “That was insensitive. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay, I know why you said it. I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”

“Sydney,” Eddie said. “You are allowed to be upset about this. This was a lot to bring up at breakfast.”

“No,” I said as I looked up with Eddie. “He was just being honest, and he does have a point.”

Eddie let out a frustrated noise and just shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said to Hopper. I meant it. Sure I didn’t like what he had to say, but he was just being honest. After being thrown through time, it’s not crazy to think that I might not be who I thought I was. I don’t know how much more that I could take of these revealments, but it was good that we laid everything on the table.

Hopper nodded. “I’m going back to the station today. You know if you need anything you can reach me there?”

I nodded. “Is there anything I can do today?”

“Stay out of trouble,” Hopper said. He eyed Eddie with amusement. “But with Munson here, that might take a lot of effort.”

Eddie rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Scout’s honor that I will be on my best behavior. Thought about taking her on a tour of Hawkins. Can’t leave her cooped up in this house.”

Hopper rubbed his chin. “It’s a small town and frankly most of the population here like to gossip. What are you going to say if someone asks about you?”

I shrugged. “What do you think is best?”

“Maybe that you are his niece?” Joyce added as she entered the kitchen and headed straight for the coffeemaker. “Jim is a bit of a touchy topic around here, no one will push for information if they hear that.”

“Coming back from the dead with a government cover story will do that for you,” Hopper said. “You comfortable going with that? Being my niece?”

I shrugged. “Sure, if you think it’s best. I guess there are worst people to be related to.”

Hopper laughed. “Okay, kiddo. Remember if you need anything-”

“Call the station,” I finished with a smile. “Got it, Uncle Hop.”

Hopper just shook his head and muttered about gray hair before making his way towards the door. Joyce followed after him, and I could hear the sounds of everyone greeting Hopper before he left. Then it was just us two in the kitchen.

“Why do you do that?” Eddie asked as he took a step back and leaned against the counter behind him. He reached out to grab my hand again, seeming to not like being apart from me. I couldn’t blame him, I liked it better when I was touching him too.

“What do you mean?”

“You had every right to be upset with Hopper!” Eddie said as he tugged his free hand through his hair. For the first time this morning, I took the time to take in what he was wearing. Still in the ripped black jeans with the chains, and this time a worn Metallic t-shirt under the denim vest he was wearing yesterday. He looked as good as he did yesterday.

“I was upset with Hopper,” I admitted as I took another step towards him, having the urge to be in his space. “But he’s not wrong. We’ve got to look at this from every angle.”

I could see the fight leave Eddie’s body as he slumped backwards. “Just because you are mad at him doesn’t mean that he’s going to kick you out or anything.” Eddie looked me in the eye. “You know that right? You don’t have to be worried about your reactions getting you in trouble here.”

I floundered. Was I that easy to read? Was I walking around like a kicked puppy?

“But-”

Eddie interrupted me. “Promise me that if you are ever mad at me, you’ll tell me. You have every right to be emotional here.”

I nodded, it was the least I could do. It didn’t seem like I could get mad at Eddie anyway. He made everything too easy. “Promise”

Eddie nodded and smiled wide. “So now that the heaviness is out of the way, you ready to explore Hakwins with me?”

“Us,” Steve corrected as he entered the kitchen with some dirty plates. “You know everyone is going to want to come.”

Eddie groaned dramatically and titled his head back. “So now I have to share my soulmate? How fair is this?”

I laughed and gently patted his check. “Better get used to it. Seems like I’m more popular than you,” I teased.

Eddie gasped. “For some of those kids in there, I’m their DM. I think you are greatly underestimating me.”

I heard Steve laugh as he put the plates in the sink. “Don’t even get him started on the debate about Dustin.”

Eddie pushed off the counter and dragged me with him as we left Steve to the kitchen. Before I could start towards the living room, his hand tugged me to a stop. He scratched at the back of his neck before he looked down, his leg bouncing nervously.

“Did Ms.Byers give you something to wear today?” Eddie asked me and then glanced down. “Or are you wanting to spend the day in your pj’s?”

“Ha ha,” I rolled my eyes. “No, I didn’t ask this morning.”

“Well I brought you some of my clothes,” Eddie said towards the ground before he looked up and met my gaze. “If that’s okay with you? I understand if you’d want to wear someone el-”

“Eddie,” I interrupted and gave the hand still holding mine a tight squeeze. “That is fine with me. What did you bring me?”

Eddie smiled widely. “You want to wear my clothes?”

“As long as you didn’t get me something hideous,” I teased with a laugh. “What did you bring me?”

“It’s out in the van,” Eddie said. He leaned forward to kiss my forehead, taking me by surprise. I felt myself flush when he stepped back and dropped my hand. “I’ll go grab it so you can change.”

With that he turned and rushed back towards the front door. I stood there for a second before I shook my head and ventured into the living room. Dustin clocked me first.

“Sydney!” He said as he got to his feet. “Steve said that Eddie’s going to show you around Hawkin’s today. Can we come?”

“Eddie wants to show me around Hawkin’s?” I asked him. It was just so easy to mess with Dustin, I couldn’t help it.

Dustin’s face fell and as he stumbled over his words to explain himself, I let out a loud laugh and leaned to squeeze his shoulder. “I’m just fucking with you kid. Of course you can come, I don’t think I could hide from you guys.”

I heard some snickers from the others and Dustin lazily pushed at me before walking towards the kitchen muttering about “telling Steve that he’s getting picked on”.

“Can you rebraid my hair?” Max asked from the couch. Her braids were a little loose, some of the hair falling out of the side that El had done.

“Of course,” I moved towards her. She dropped to the floor and let me take a seat on the couch. “Do you want one or two?”

When Eddie came back in, I was already done with Max’s hair. Just as I was tying off her braid, he popped up in the doorway and jerked his head towards the hallway. When I joined him, he had a pile of folded clothes and a plastic bag.

“So Nancy caught me outside,” Eddie said as he guided me back towards the bathroom. “She figured you might need some of these and said that they should be the right size.”

Eddie thrusted the bag at me, his face pink. Curiosity won over and I peered into the bag to see a handful of bras and some packaged underwear.

“Eddie,” I said teasingly. “Did you not want to look at my underwear?”

A startled noise came from him and he met my eyes. “Of course I want to see your underwear! Wait-no! I mean, no I didn’t look in the bag because I didn’t know what exactly she gave y-”

“Hey,” I interrupted him with a wide smile. “Eddie, I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh,” He said and leaned his back towards the ceiling with a groan. “Don’t do that to me, jeez.”

I reached into the bag and checked the sizing, Nancy had got it right. “How did she get the size correct?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Don’t you girls have a radar for that stuff or something?”

I shrugged back. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

Eddie shook his head and reached out with the folded clothes. “I didn’t think you’d want to wear my jeans, but I did bring you a shirt and one of my flannels because I’ve noticed you stay a bit cold. If you don’t like it, we can always find something else.”

I took the clothes and hugged them to my chest. “I’m sure these will work fine. You going to wait out here for me?”

Eddie just took a step back and leaned against the opposite wall. “I’ll be right out here.”

I just shook my head and closed the door behind me. I laid his clothes on the closed toilet lid and saw that at some point Joyce must have place my clothes on a shelf near the door. I cleaned up quickly with the toothbrush from the night before and used some of Nancy’s face wash again. Swapping the pj pants out for my leggings from the day before, I took a moment to see what Eddie had actually brought me. The flannel felt very soft and smelled very nice, but I could still make out that underlying scent that just screamed Eddie. The other shirt he brought was a three-quarter sleeved shirt. The sleeves were black, chest area white, and had some design on the front. There was a red-faced demon right in the middle, “Hellfire Club” printed right about it. The shirt was soft as well, and after making sure the bra I took out wouldn’t show from under the shirt, I tugged both on.

When I looked in the mirror, I was met with the sight of just how possessive the shirts look. Not that it was a bad thing, but you could definitely tell these weren’t my clothes and they belonged to a very particular group. I couldn’t fight the smile that crossed my face. I know that if I went back out there and asked for a different change of clothes, Eddie would get it for me, hands down. But these clothes gave me a sense of security. The fact that Eddie tripped over himself to hand them to me, maybe a tiny part to show off himself but also to make sure I was comfortable.

I tugged my hair out of its braid, letting the soft waves fall down my back. I checked myself in the mirror once again, making sure that I hadn’t changed places once again. Before I could let myself get lost in those trains of thoughts, I opened the door finding Eddie still standing across from the door. This time now, Dustin had joined him.

“What do you mean I can’t ride with you?” Dustin said. “You always let me ride in the van!”

“Dustin,” Eddie said as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe next time? I want Sydney to be comfortable today. If you guys keep throwing these questions at her, she’s not going to want to be around anyone.”

Dustin nodded and when he turned, he zeroed in on me. “Holy shit, you gave her your Hellfire shirt?”

Eddie’s gaze snapped to me, a delighted smile crossing his face. “Well, look what we have here.”

He took two large steps towards me, tugging on the material of the flannel. “Don’t you look good, sweetheart.”

I felt my face flush. “The clothes work fine Eddie. Thank you.”

“Sydney,” Eddie said as he reached out to tug at a strand of my hair. “You can have my whole closet if you are going to look this good in my clothes.”

I bit my lip to try and hold back the smile that was threatening to take up my face.

A cough brought me back, Dustin coming up behind Eddie. “Can you two not do this for two seconds?”

My face got hotter as I took a step back from Eddie. Only Eddie didn’t seem to like that, and moved forward to take my hand and angle his body towards Dustin. “This is what you are going to have to put up with if you ride in the van. You still trying to beg for a spot?”

Eddie pushed past him without an answer, dragging me with him by our interlocked hands. I let out a surprised laugh and let him lead me back towards the others. It seemed that most of everyone was packed up, trying to divide into who would go in which car. Steve was standing dead center in the living room, hands on his hips as Max waved her hands at him for something I couldn’t hear.

“Do they always do this?” I asked Eddie as I leaned closer to him. God forbid Max actually hear me and start on me like she was with Steve.

Eddie chuckled. “Always. Red knows exactly what buttons to push and usually guilt trips Steve when she wants something.”

“And Steve folds like a wet paper towel,” Robin said as she rounded the corner. She snickered, “Steve can’t say no to any of his kids.”

Steve then threw his hands up, shaking his head and then gesturing to the door. “Fine! But Nancy and Jonthan are going to pick you two up, I’m not driving back out there.”

Even though I couldn’t see her face, I could just feel the smirk that Max was sporting from here. “Thanks, mom.”

Steve groaned and Max grabbed El’s hand and started towards the door. Robin let out another snicker before grabbing her boots near the door. “Are you two going to come to Steve’s while we wait for the rest to get ready?”

Before I could answer, Steve made his way to us and swatted at Dustin’s hat. “Please make sure that Max and El don’t try anything with the beemer. I’ll give you a lift home.”

Once Dustin was out the door, Steve turned back towards us. “I have to drop Max and El off at the cabin and then drop Dustin off at his house. Do you want to come back to mine with Robin? Nancy and Jonthan are going to take care of dropping the rest off and taking them to the arcade.”

“Is that where the tour starts?” I asked. “You guys actually have a functioning arcade?”

Steve nodded and I looked up to Eddie. I really didn’t care where we went today. As long as I was with Eddie, I could go anywhere.

“Do you not have any arcades?” Eddie asked.

“More rare now.” I said as I looked back at Steve. “I haven’t been to one in ages. I’d love to start there.”

Steve clapped his hands together. “Then it’s settled. Robin and Eddie know where I live. Let me drop off the other’s and I’ll meet you there?”

Eddie nodded and gestured towards the door. “You okay with Robin coming with us?”

Robin snorted. “Excuse me, we have a meeting to attend. ‘Bullying Harrington Club’ has to brainstorm ideas.”

Steve groaned as he shrugged on his shoes and started towards the door. “Don’t start that.”

“Too late,” Robin said and stuck out her tongue at him. “We have to have a ceremony for our newest member.”

“How many members do you have?” I asked with a smile.

“Three now,” Eddie said with a laugh. “You, me, and Robin. Adult’s only.”

I laughed. “Well I guess I should feel honored.”

“You should”, Robin said with a chuckle and weaved her arm through mine. “Only the best of the best can bully Steve.”

After pausing to let me tug my converse on, Robin guided me out the front door while she rambled about getting matching t-shirts to piss off Steve. Joyce was waiting out on the porch, pushing a jacket into Will’s hands. She turned to us with a smile, waving at Steve as he drove off. Robin let go of me to give her a hug, Eddie doing the same. Lastly Joyce turned towards me with her arms stretched out.

“Is this okay? I always hug my kids before they leave.”

Jesus Christ. If Joyce kept this up she was going to become my favorite out of everyone. I felt a lump form in my throat as I stepped forward into her arms. “Of course it is.”

She held onto me for a few moments longer than she did Eddie and Robin. When she stepped back, she patted my face softly. “You need anything, you call the house. The kids know my number. Anything at all.”

“I know,” I said as I took a step back and she dropped her hand. “Thank you.”

Joyce smiled again and waited for us to be loaded into the van before she stepped back into the house. Robin let me have shotgun, Eddie gesturing to the glovebox for me to pick a tape.

“Is she like this for everyone?” I asked as I read the label of a tape before picking up another one.

“Like she said,” Eddie said as he plucked the tape from my hand and shoved it in the radio. “Trauma bonds us together for life. With everything we’ve gone through, it’s safe to say she views us all as her kids now.”

I let that settle over me as we drove towards Steve’s. Was it that easy for some people? Mothers like Joyce? To take one look at a child and be claimed there’s?

If it was so easy for her, why couldn’t my own mother do it?

“So should we start with saying his hair is turning gray or we think it’s falling out?” Robin said with a laugh.

I turned to face her, mischief written all over her face. “Steve?”

She rolled her eyes. “Who else? C’mon, give me some ideas here Eddie! We can’t go after his room again, he’s already changed his comforter.”

Eddie laughed and I’ve noticed that when he full-body laughs, he throws head back like the laughter is fighting to burst out all at once. “Shit, really?”

“Yeah!” Robin said. “You gave him shit about that for weeks. Obviously he got into his head about it.”

“That room gave me a headache, thank god.” Eddie said as he turned to look at me. “Sweetheart, you should have seen it. Everything was plaid.”

I felt myself grimace as I tried to imagine it. “That would hurt my head.”

“Thank you!” Robin shouted from the backseat. “He didn’t believe me. You can thank his mom for that.”

“So it was his mom’s choice?”

“Uh, you’ll see when we get there. It is so minimally decorated, his parents are never home but refuse to let him change the house in any way.”

“So that’s what he meant about an empty house.” I said. “His parents just aren’t around?”

“Steve doesn’t like to talk about it.” Eddie said as he took a sharp turn and Robin shouted from the backseat. “Don’t say anything to him about it.”

“Sure,” I said, I would hate to offend Steve, he’s been nothing but kind to me. “Why aren’t they here?”

“Steve claims it’s because his dad works a lot and his mom follows so he can’t have affairs.” Robin started. “But I think once Steve feels like they realized he was a waste of their time they just stopped back here. His dad was pissed when he didn’t go off to school.”

“I know that feeling.” I said. I could almost feel the anger that my dad had the day I told him I wanted to take a break. Telling me that I was a disappointment, even when the man himself didn’t go to college. “I can see why he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Well,” Eddie said as he turned into the driveway of a big house. “I guess the only thing rich, absent parents are good for is keeping this place paid for.”

From the window of the van, I couldn’t tell how big the house was inside but I could practically see the dark hallways that Steve had to trudge through day in and day out. Sometimes you could tell the vibe of a house from the condition of the outside; but just because it looked well taken care of, doesn’t mean the inside held any warmth.

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Thank you guys for all the support on the last few chapters! I am so excited for the path I have written for our two love birds. I have a lot planned, so stick around for the ride!

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#eddie munson #eddie munson series #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fic #stranger things series #time travel au #wip #steve harrington

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rosewaterandivy · 11 months

Text

6. a routine malaise

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, winter holidays (Christmas), poor groupchat etiquette, travel, Steve driving stick (🥵🥵🥵), drinking and drug use, Eddie meddling, Just Friends mention (yes, AGAIN), pining and yearning, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance.

A/N: Damn, we really in it now, huh? Get ready for ignoring feelings and maladaptive coping mechanisms! Here’s 5.8K of Steve being a sweetie and Reader being... well... evasive. Let me know what you think; like and reblogs are appreciated, as always, enjoy! 💜

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Then, Winter Break, Christmas Eve, IND ➡️ SFO ➡️ MRY ➡️ Carmel-by-the-Sea, CA

You were going to kill Steve.

You’d arrived to the airport with absolutely no time to spare and had to book it through security (thank you, TSA Pre-Check) and then sprint to your gate. A special shout-out to your TSA agent who barked out a laugh after reading your ‘Dead Inside But Still Horny’ t-shirt when they made you take off your hoodie and place it in a bin to be screened. Never in your life had you related more to Eminem’s description of “palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy” than you did right now.

If you didn’t have some water soon, you’d be joining him in the vomit on the sweater portion of the song. Luckily, Steve threw you a water bottle before the mouth sweats could really set in. You gulped it down heartily and then chucked the plastic bottle at his head.

“Uncalled for,” he accused indignantly, ignoring your scowl and narrowed eyes. “We made it, didn’t we?”

“You had to carry me on the plane,” you point out, knowing it’s not one of your finer moments.

He had to shift his backpack around to carry it on his chest and gave you a piggyback ride to your seats, much to your embarrassment. But in your defense, your legs were about to give out and it seemed to cheer up the holiday travelers on the plane as Steve apologized with nods and shrugs, as if to say ‘what can you do?’ accompanied by a charming smile.

As he slipped you into your row, you heard a woman in front of you say, “Well, if that isn’t the sweetest thing.” A nudge to her husband seated next to her to ask, “Richard, why didn’t you do that for me?” His responding chuckle was warm and bright.

You ducked down to situate yourself in the seat, buckling the seatbelt and settling in. Steve slid in next to you, taking the middle seat because he’s a heathen with no concept of personal space, and opened his backpack. You wondered what you’d do to pass the time for the nearly five-hour flight and were interrupted by Steve when he handed you a pair of Sony headphones.

“If this is part of your Christmas escapades, I will be terribly upset.”

He shrugged, nonchalant, “Santa said to give ‘em to you now, I’m just following orders here.”

You mumbled obscenities to yourself, mindful of the tiny ears on the plane while Steve laughed at you. After a few futile minutes attempting to pair your phone to the headphones, he took over. You glanced out of the window, watching as the ground crew loaded the cargo hold before take-off.

Steve, damn him, could never really warrant your prolonged anger– this trip was, by far, the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you. And you found it difficult to be mad at him for breaking the gift-giving rules, but, rest assured, he’d be getting a talking to later.

He passed your phone back to you and opted to test your headphones for you. Opening Spotify, you tapped on your Liked Songs playlist and scrolled until finding something acceptable. Steve’s bright smile at the opening notes of “Last Christmas” was worth it.

“Think that’ll do it,” he says with a wink, placing the headphones securely around your ears.

You pause the song and reveal an ear, “What’ll you do?”

He digs through his bag again and pulls out his copy of Midnight in Chernobyl. You shudder at the thought of reading about such gruesome things as he opens the cover and thumbs at the pages.

“Okay, enjoy that, comrade,” you joke, pulling the headphones to rest against your neck as you prepare to watch and listen to the flight attendant’s safety presentation. “What,” you ask to his raised brow and smirk, “One of us should be prepared.”

He huffs a laugh and winds his fingers between yours on the armrest, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Setting the book down to mark his page, open against his thigh, he scrolls through his phone, tapping out a missive or two.

“Oh shit,” you said, remembering the holiday plans with the group, “Shouldn’t we let Nance and them know we’re bailing?”

Steve smiles and hands you his phone. You quickly read through the loft groupchat.

👊fight club 👊

bucko 🤠: what, no goodbyes?

dumbass 🤘: no glove, no love stevie baby

steeb 🖕: you can both fuck off (derogatory)

bucko 🤠: [enter two clowns] 🤡🤡

nwa 🔪: he didn’t have time for goodbyes because he was late AS USUAL

steeb 🖕: sent an image [selfie of Steve carrying Trouble onto the plane, piggyback]

dumbass 🤘: damn, she looks straight wrecked homie 🥵

You scoffed and typed back a response to Eddie.

steeb 🖕: [looks out onto a sea of idiots] hell

bucko 🤠: don’t you mean hello?

nwa 🔪: that you trouble?

dumbass 🤘: babe, what the fuck is wrong with you

steeb 🖕: it all started back in ‘92, a calamity was a brewin’

nwa 🔪: love you babes, text us when you land 😘

steeb 🖕has liked this message

bucko 🤠: 😘😘😘 kisses for my bitches

steeb 🖕: bye nance & robs, love you lots! eds, swiggity swoot im comin for you 🔪🔪🔪

dumbass 🤘: god damnit

As it so happened, your trip was about seven hours, all told. After landing in San Francisco, you had to make a connecting flight and had a brief layover. Just long enough for Steve to run to a Peet’s Coffee and grab something for a snack before you boarded the next flight.

He returned with a cappuccino for you and some snacks from a news vendor. You took the cup gratefully and warmed your hands against the cardboard cup. Steve sipped from his own cup, taking the seat next to you in the terminal.

“What’d you get?”

He shrugs, swallowing the coffee down, “The usual, an americano.”

“Ugh,” you scoff, “Boring.”

“Well, one of us needs to be awake.”

You eye him suspiciously.

“This flight is about an hour and then we have to drive.” He rolls his neck, with a sigh, “Only like, twenty minutes, give or take with traffic.”

“Are you planning to murder me and dump my body into the Pacific?”

“What!?” he squawks, turning a few heads your way. “No, never. When did you get so paranoid?”

You sip daintily from the cup once more, “Born this way, take it up with my mother.”

He rolls his eyes and gets up to toss his empty cup into the recycling bin. “I will do no such thing, your mother is a gem.”

You elbow him in the side as he sits back down. “Whatever you say, big guy.”

They call for boarding not long after and you shuffle back onto another plane. The flight to Monterey is under an hour, not enough time to do much of anything but nap, really. Upon landing, Steve shoulders his backpack once more, hand extended behind him for you to hold as you disembark onto the tarmac and walk inside to collect your bags.

You assure him that you know which bags to grab from the carousel before he leaves you to pickup the rental car. Grabbing your phone you let Nance know you’ve landed but still have no idea what Steve’s planning; she’s less than helpful in her response.

natty light 💯: nope, i’m not enabling you’re snooping

trouble 👁️👄👁️: whatever could you possibly mean? me, a snoop?

natty light 💯: yes, and the worst of them too.

trouble 👁️👄👁️: you’re no fun.

natty light 💯: babe, i love you. but for once in your life, could you let someone do something nice for you and just enjoy it?

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

Steve returns to your side as you spot the first of your luggage and then goes to get it himself. Less work for you, you suppose.

The sun makes its final descent beneath the horizon as you walk to the parking lot. Steve’s looking for the numbered parking spot the concierge gave him, mumbling to himself.

“Oh, there it is!”

He jogs toward a white two-seater convertible, a Mazda MX-5, whatever the fuck that is, and seems pleased with himself. He loads your bags into the trunk and walks you over to the passenger side door, opening it for you.

“Very gentlemanly of you,” you tease, sliding into the leather seat.

“Oh, be sure to tell my mom,” he smiles back at you, “She’ll be thrilled those etiquette classes were good for something.”

He shuts the door and crosses in front of the car before settling into the driver’s seat. Steve adjusts the rearview mirror and seat before pairing with the bluetooth and passing his phone off to you.

“Did you already type in the directions?”

“Yeah, just pick something for the drive.”

You nod and settle on something from one of his numerous playlists. Preoccupied with the music selection, you don’t notice you’ve pulled out of the airport parking lot until Steve merges onto CA-1. Your attention drifts to the center console and gear shift, Steve’s hand resting there and shifting occasionally while his feet work the pedals.

“Throw back, huh? Feeling nostalgic?” he asks, changing lanes, commenting on the song rattling through the speakers.

“I guess,” you say, distracted by his hand on the gearshift and concentration on the road. “Is this a manual?”

His brow raises in surprise, “Yeah, stick shift. Cars like this usually are.”

“Oh,” you lean back into the seat, turning to catch some scenery. “I didn’t know you could drive stick.”

He sighs, “Yeah, my dad insisted I learn how. But Hopper’s the one that taught me.”

“Really?”

His eyes flit to you briefly, before looking to the road again. “Yep,” he pops the percussive ‘p’ and smiles. “He was overseeing the driving program at the time, some zero hour bullshit that I hated since I had to get up at ass o’clock.”

“Huh,” you reply, lost in thought. “I guess that’s when Eddie started picking me up for school.”

The song changes over to another old favorite, “Two Weeks” by Grizzly Bear as you take in the scenery. To your right, the Pacific Ocean laps against the California shoreline. It’s growing dark, but enough light remains for you to spy the crests of white foam as the waves crash against the shore.

Steve handles the curves of the of PCH adeptly, and you’re only momentarily distracted by his hands moving over the wheel and gearshift. It stirs something uncomfortable in your abdomen, as if your stomach flipped or something. If you could cross your legs more, you would, you’re all too aware of the tightening in your thighs— thank god for opaque Lululemon leggings.

The rest of the drive passes, gorgeous scenery giving way to the parks and downtown of Carmel-by-the-Sea. Tiredness settles over you like a warm blanket, the exhaustion from the previous night’s insomnia on top of a travel day. You hope to sleep well tonight.

He turns onto a residential road and drives up hill, passing beautiful homes and gardens along the way. Must be making your way to the AirBnB.

“Pretty sure my aunt and uncle have a place here,” you muse, “It’s a rental property of theirs, I think.”

Steve hums in agreement, so it must be something you mentioned before. He pulls into a driveway with a black S.U.V. and parks the car.

“This is us,” he says turning toward you, fingers drumming anxiously against the steering wheel.

It’s a big house, too big for just the two of you, surely. Something from a storybook with a gate to the front garden and a Juliet balcony above the French doors at the entrance. You’re about to say how it’s too much, that there’s no reason the two of you need an entire house to yourselves when the one of the front doors opens and a head peeks out

“Merry Christmas you two!”

A gasp escapes the cavern of your chest, because that’s a voice you’d know anywhere. You barely make it out of the car to careen into your mother’s warm embrace, stifling tears as you go. She squeezes you tight, one arm wrapped around your back while the other cradles your head to her chest.

“Hi sweetie,” she sniffles, fingers tangling in your hair and bringing your forehead to rest against her own, “How’s my favorite daughter?”

You manage a laugh, pulling away to wipe the tears from your cheeks. At a loss for words, all you can get out is, “How?”

She responds with a slow smile, eyes landing on Steve with a subtle nod. “He planned the whole thing, swore us all to secrecy.”

And Steve, for his part, dutifully unloads the trunk like it’s just another day. Like he hasn’t planned the world’s greatest Christmas present for you. You listen as your mother chats about colluding with your best friend for the better part of a month as the two of them worked out dates and bookings.

He waves at the pair of you and lugs the bags up the cobblestone drive to the door.

Your mother tuts and tucks wayward strands of hair behind your ears. “Now honey,” she says, “You know we adore Steve…”

Blinking, you face her once more, knowing all too well what she’s getting at, “Yes, you’ve made that very clear mom.”

She smirks, “And you’re sure there’s nothing you’d like to share, just between us girls?”

Her laugh is infectious and drowns out your scoff as Steve stops at the entryway. “Already up to no good, I can tell.” He readjusts the strap of his backpack and gives your mom a hug with his free arm, “Hey mom, long time no see.”

She playfully smacks his chest, “You troublemaker, I saw you just last week.” She pulls him in for a hug and lays a kiss on his temple, “So, how did the surprise go?”

Steve looks to you with a raised brow, biting his bottom lip. “Uh, looks like she’s still in shock,” he says, “We should probably get her inside.”

Allowing yourself to be led inside, you walk in a daze behind your mother, Steve just a step behind you with the luggage.

Your mother shouts that you’ve arrived, alerting your father and brother in the kitchen as they work on dinner. Your dad responds with his exuberant, “All right!” while your brother takes the steps down from the kitchen to give you a hug.

“Hey sis,” he says releasing you, “Pretty wild that Steve-o was able to pull this off, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” you parrot back, “Pretty wild.”

Your mother looks on in interest, curious eyes and pursed lips. Steve greets your brother with a handshake, turns to you with a mock-salute, and seemingly abandons you to your family.

Rude.

Steve takes your mom’s directions to locate the remaining bedroom for the pair of you. There’s only one bed, which seems to be par for the course at this point. He tosses the backpack on a nearby chair and leaves the luggage by the closet.

Falling against the bed, he checks his phone for any missed messages. There’s the usual bullshit in the groupchat, Eddie rightfully fearing for his life after your threat. Followed by a text from Robin asking how he’s doing and a missed Facetime call from his mother.

With a sigh, he sits back up and calls her back. She picks up on the second ring, camera decidedly not on her face. “Ma,” he says, “You gotta hold the phone in front of your face, it’s not a phone call.”

“Oh.”

She maneuvers the camera to show her face, impeccably made up (as usual), as she sits in the hotel room waiting on his father for some event or another.

“So you made it to California?”

“Yeah, we just got to the house.” He scrubs a hand down his face, feeling more tired than he lets on. “I think she likes it?”

“Well, I would hope so,” she tuts, “You put an awful lot of work and money into this.”

“Ma–”

“No, no,” she sighs, “I know it’s yours to do with as you want, I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t,” he glowers.

“Now Steven,” she admonishes, “We like her, she’s a lovely girl and you both had a similar upbringing…”

He rolls his eyes as she begins the litany of why-aren’t-you-together-yet and cards a hand through his hair.

It’s really none of her business, either way. And it’s pretty obvious that if Steve had his way, you’d have already been an item. But no, some asshole had to propose and then break your heart. He flexes his hand, mindful of his sore joints from the punch.

“And I know her mother has shown you the heirloom jewelry already and we have some exquisite pieces from your grandmothers as well—”

“Wait, what?”

His mother stops her prattling, brows raised. “Is this not a proposal trip?”

His eyes nearly pop out of his skull, “Fu–,” he clears his throat, “No, absolutely not. Mom, where did you even get that idea?”

She has enough sense to seem chastened, “Well, you were working on that ring for her, weren’t you?”

He swallows audibly. “Yes, that’s technically true…”

“And it’s not an engagement ring?”

“Uh, no.”

She scoffs and balks, “Well whatever could it be for if you’re not proposing?”

At this point, Steve’s father overhears and comes into frame. “Steven’s proposing?”

His mother turns to her husband, ignoring Steve, “To the neighbor girl, you remember her.”

“Oh, right,” his father adjusts his tie. “Are you sure about this, son?”

“I’m not–” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, “That’s not happening you guys.”

“Apologies,” his mother says, “Apparently he’s not proposing but has some ring for a Christmas present.”

“Could be mistaken for an engagement,” his father replies, “You’re giving her ring on Christmas, nearly twenty percent of engagements happen between Christmas and New Year’s.”

How the fuck would he even know that?

“Your father and I were engaged on New Year’s.”

“That’s right, dear, and it worked out perfectly fine for us.”

Steve sighs in frustration, falling back against the pillows, “D’you two want to continue this conversation by yourselves or…?”

“There’s no need to be touchy Steven,” his mother cautions, “We just wonder if this is the best time to gift her a ring if you’re not to be engaged.”

“If you’d let me explain,” he says in a measured tone, “I could clear up your misconceptions.”

“Fine, go on then.”

He takes a breath in and explains how the ring isn’t an engagement ring but a replica of your grandmother’s ring that you’d lost at sleep-away camp when you were thirteen. Apparently, your grandmother in her infinite wisdom had deemed thirteen a mature enough age to keep and wear fine jewelry. Despite keeping it in your duffle bag and not wearing it all during camp, it had been lost, and you were utterly devastated.

“Her grandmother passed late that summer,” Steve reminds his parents, “We went to the funeral that September.”

“Oh,” his mother breathes out, hand to her heart, “I had no idea…” she trails off, looking to Steve’s father to carry the conversation.

He clears his throat, “That’s a thoughtful gift, son. Just make sure she takes your meaning when opening it.”

Steve allows him a brief smile, “I don’t think that will be an issue, but thanks.”

They say their goodbyes not long after that and you call out that dinner is ready.

Dinner is a casual affair, curried salmon with an arugula salad courtesy of your mom and dad, Syrah and after dinner weed provided by your brother.

“Can always count on your brother for a decent joint,” Steve says passing it to you.

You take a pull, holding the joint just so between your fingers. Steve used to joke that you hold pretty much anything like a French woman holds a cigarette and you (unfortunately) have to agree.

As it turned out, there was one bed in your room but, it was a California king so there’ll be tons of space between you; not like the trip in November at all.

Your parents had graciously given the pair of you the primary suite with the Juliet balcony and views to the Pacific. Incidentally, this meant you had the luxury bathroom of the house with a jetted tub and ridiculously large shower.

Must be nice to have money.

“Steve,” you say after a while, relaxing just enough to lower your inhibitions, “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He’s facing you, but only partially illuminated from the bedroom lights. An inkling of a smile graces his lips, “You deserve it y’know.” But what he wants to say is you deserve the world.

A soft laugh, “I don’t know about that,” you take another hit and pass it back to Steve, fingers brushing. “I would reign in your expectations for Christmas morning, pal.”

He takes a final drag before snuffing out the roach, eyes landing on you once again. “Really? I shouldn’t expect some gift that’s equal parts incredibly thoughtful and altogether ridiculous?”

“Okay,” you laugh. “If that’s what you’re anticipating, then you might be in the right ballpark.”

He pours another glass of the Syrah for you, the deep red hue swirling in the glass. He passes the wine glass to you, depositing it in your hand. You take a sip, savoring the notes of blackberry and tobacco.

Steve pours himself a glass too, effectively killing the bottle and setting it down on a nearby table. “Damn,” he says, “Your brother dating that sommelier really paid off.”

You crack a smile, watching as he leans his forearms against the railing, glass in his hand. Rumpled and tired from a day’s travel, but still cutting a quite the figure in the soft glow of the moon. Unless that’s the wine… or weed talking.

Shit.

“Yeah,” you allow, “Though she wasn’t the biggest fan of my super-taster pallet.”

“Did I know you were a super-taster?”

You shrug, “It’s my party trick. Good for those fancy dinner parties you drag me to.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, downing a swig of wine. “How so?”

“Well,” you begin, “When I met Vivian over the summer, she prepped a white wine tasting for us, which was super nice.” You lean against the railing, trying to recollect the moment. “So, we begin with the usual suspects, your Sauvignon Blancs, Viogniers, a Chenin Blanc, you know.”

“Oh yes, my extensive knowledge of summer wines,” he teases, “Please continue.”

“Riiight, so no problems there– was on my best behavior and everything.” You pause to sip your wine, “But then, we get to the Pinot Grigio.”

“Gross.”

“I know!” you agree. “So, we sample that and she asks how it is, the usual stuff. And everyone goes around commenting on a few of the notes they’re able to discern, all well and good. That is, until she gets around to me.”

“Uh oh,” Steve says into his glass, seeing where your story is headed.

“Uh oh is right. Because when I take another sip and ponder the taste of the vintage, I correctly, mind you, identify a note of ... plastic pool toy.”

Steve spits out the remainder of his wine over the balcony and onto the flowers beneath him. “What?” he nearly shouts turning back to you, “P-plastic pool toy?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, “Like those cheap-o inflatable plastic balls in a net at Target.”

He fails to close his mouth, jaw agape. “How could you possibly know what those taste like?”

You shrug, “Pool volleyball,” and finish your drink. “Robs bought some earlier that summer and we had that stupid tournament at your parent’s place. Nance spiked the damn blue marbled ball into my face, so that’s how I know that Pinot Grigio tasted like plastic pool toy - with just a whisper of chlorine to round it out.”

Steve, gathering his senses, laughs softly, “And how did she take that?”

“Oh, Viv?” you say over your shoulder, making your way back inside for the night. “She agreed with me, after doing her own taste test, of course. My brother warned her of my tendencies before the trip, so she was well-prepared.”

“You’re something else.” He says, gathering the empty bottle and glasses from the balcony and shuts the door after him.

You curtsy and turn to locate your luggage.

Steve leans back against the door, setting the glasses and bottle on a side table, and observes as you dawdle throughout the room. Suitcase set down on a chair and unzipped hastily to reveal various packing cubes labelled by occasion in Nancy’s deft hand. You rise slowly, lips screwed to the side in perturbation and eyes narrowed.

You fix him with a look, “You and me, we’re fighting later.”

“Oh, sure,” is all he says, struggling to mask his smile.

You turn back to the task at hand, finding pajamas, because you are not repeating the last sleeping arrangement you had with Steve. Which amounted to stealing one of his shirts, sleeping in that and your underwear because you, frazzled as usual, failed to pack pajamas but had somehow stuffed three coats into your duffle bag.

And you know that Nancy, the perennial Girl Scout, won’t let you down.

Digging until you find the ‘sleepwear’ cube, unhelpfully next to the one labelled ‘pjs’ in something that is definitely not Nance’s handiwork.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you open the mystery package and nearly drop the damn thing on the ground at the shock of its contents. Heat rising from your chest to neck, you make a garbled sound and Steve thinks it best to excuse himself for the moment. He tells you he’ll be back soon and goes to return the glasses to the kitchen. You nod dumbly, packing cube crushed to your chest until he closes the door.

In a panic, you pull the silk and lace from the zippered bag. And it’s not much better when you have all the items laid out in front of you, a risqué and skimpy picture of what someone called ‘pajamas.’ You inspect the handwriting on the cube once more to no avail. A scrap of paper falls out of as you throw it across the room.

‘Merry Christmas big boy! xxxx, Eds’

Finding your phone, you furiously type out a message.

trouble 👁️👄👁️: 🤜 this is my fist coming for your ass

bandcamp 👿: thanks for the heads up, plenty of time to prep!

trouble 👁️👄👁️: trouble sent an image [burgundy lingerie set and sheer robe]

you think you’re funny?

bandcamp 👿: hilarious, actually. surprised you’re breaking it out this soon though

trouble 👁️👄👁️: lsadhflksajd

bandcamp 👿 ‘liked’ this message

MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS

Hearing Steve in the hall, you drop your phone and stuff everything back into its packing cube before he can see anything, cursing Eddie the entire time.

You shove the incriminating the cube back into your suitcase just as Steve opens the door. He pauses and tilts his head to the left.

“Everything okay there?”

Because your elbow deep in the suitcase like you’re hiding something and have gone about ten different shades of red at this point. Your eyes grow wide when you realize Eddie’s note is still at large and currently residing somewhere in this room.

“Yeah, of course,” you grab the correct packing cube and toiletry bag before escaping to the bathroom and slamming the door shut.

“...okay.”

Steve’s phone pings as you start the shower, banging things down on the countertop aggressively. He’ll ask you about it later. He opens his phone to reply to Robin’s earlier message only to see something from Eddie.

Which is weird, because Eddie only texts Steve if he has to.

He opens the thread and reads.

dumbass 🤘: don’t say i never did anything for ya

dumbass 🤘has sent 2 images

[Image 1 a screenshot of a conversation between Eddie and Trouble]

[Image 2 a photo of a burgundy lingerie set and sheer robe]

Steve, taken aback, drops his phone in response.

Needless to say, the rest of the night went about as well as it could. Upon exiting the shower, you discover that the sleepwear in the packing cube is not, in fact, your own. Instead, it’s brand new with the tags still on for chrissake. Holding the offending garments in your hand, you secure your towel on your chest with your opposite hand and exit the steamy bathroom.

“Harrington” you say, jolting him from whatever he was doing on his phone. You wait for him to glance your way, and clear your throat when he does. “The fuck is this?”

“Uh,” he swallows audibly, “Pajamas?”

“No shit Sherlock,” you grouse, tossing them on his face, “But they’re not mine so the mystery continues.”

Removing the shorts and shirt from his face, he runs his fingers against the material. “Nance tried to go to yours and grab some stuff,” he says by way of explanation, “But your ex was cagey and shitty with date and times for her to do so,” he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “And I just figured new stuff would be easier?”

“Oh,” you say, feeling mildly foolish. “That’s— I’m sorry about that, about him.”

“Hey, no,” he says getting up from the bed and walking toward you, “You don’t ever need to apologize for his asshole behavior.”

He hands you the blue pajama set with white moons and stars with a soft smile, “They’re cute, right?”

You screw your mouth the side and narrow your eyes, “Yes, but that’s not the point, Daddy Morebucks.” You take the shirt and shorts from him with a huff, “I guess these will do, if you insist.”

“Oh, I do,” he replies with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest. When you turn back to the bathroom, he eyes a scrap of paper under your side of the bed and picks it up.

He reads it with a sigh, fucking Eddie. And taps out a reply.

steeb 🖕: too soon, but well played. much appreciated

dumbass 🤘 ‘liked’ this message

dumbass 🤘: don’t fuck it up and wait too long

By the time Steve returns from his shower, he finds you snuggled down in bed singing to “Yule Shot Your Eye Out.”

“Guess we figured out the bluetooth then,” he says pulling back the covers and slipping in beside you.

“Don't come home for Christmas / you're the last thing I want to see,” you croon and hand him the remote.

He joins in with a “Merry Christmas, I could care less,” and cues up the movie for the night.

You turn off the music. “Steve,” you say, turning on your side to face him, “Are those… leopards on your pajama pants?”

“Obviously.”

“Huh, okay. Just checking.”

The movie in question, which, awkwardly, is the Ryan Reynolds favorite Just Friends. But it was a tradition at this point, and who were you to buck off a time-honored classic such as this? A coward, that’s who.

Because you’re out like a light, and the irony is not lost on Steve when Chris Brander knocks on Jaimie’s door, in an attempt to explain this shitty behavior: “I’d rather have you in my life as a friend than nothing at all.”

He pauses the movie with a sigh, feeling incredibly called out, and hazards a glance at you before he kills the lights. And, sure enough, you’ve wrangled that dumbass pillow over your eyes like some hostage that’s had a bag thrown over their head.

You look adorable but insane; you insist on sleeping with it because it’s like a “hug for your brain,” whatever that means.

So, despite knowing he’ll be momentarily terrified waking up next to that particular sight tomorrow morning, Steve can’t wait to celebrate Christmas with you and your family. He’s only a little worried about the rest of your gifts, and a mildly curious about the lingerie set from Eddie.

You jolt from a stupor with a gasp. The room has darkened, barely lit by the soft glow of the moon and stars. The blanket from your shoulders has slipped off some time ago, gathering to pool at your feet. Blinking sluggishly, you realize you’re no longer grasping for dear life at the edge of the bed.

Cypress and vetiver. Faint cool aftershave and the vital heartbeat of warm boy. Something heavy and warm draped over your previously cold shoulders.

Another dream.

Yet, it feels more corporeal than ever before and the drumming in your chest strikes a thrilled beat. Your hands wildly pat him up and down, drawing forth a dazed rousing at your antics. You don’t stop, though, running up his bare torso, the fingers tangling in the soft curls on his chest, skating to his strong jaw and chin. Then hair, those long chestnut strands lightly curled at the edges, grown a little longer and wild.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, honey.”

You bristle in disbelief, distracted by the realization with some embarrassment that you’ve been sleeping on top of him for who knows how long. Stupid syllables stuck like gooey taffy in your mouth, welding your teeth together in a solid disappointment.

“Y'alright?”

You nod, untangling yourself from him slowly and retreating back to your side of the bed. With a twist of his torso, Steve slips his palm beneath yours, touches each pad of his fingers to your own, bending each fingertip to graze you.

His eyes search you intently, a little confused, a little relieved.

“I just–” you breathe out, words stuck in your throat. Unable to look him in the eye. “Thank you.”

It’s a whisper in the night, soft and delicate falling from your lips.

“For this, for everything,” you continue breathlessly.

‘Course, he thinks. I’d do anything to see you smile. Inside of him, an all too familiar weight, heavy with promise.

His selfish heart. His stupid, cowardly, guilty heart. His broken, broken heart. He doesn’t even care to gather it up this time. Or the next.

But it’s Steve’s mouth that opens, sides of his tongue already bent over his molars as he whispers a reply. “Anytime, doll.”

He runs his fingers in his hair, sweeping it away from his forehead, stifling a yawn, eyes your pretty, pretty mouth in a smile. Still dark out, some mysterious hour both too late and too early to be awake, and he couldn’t see you at all—blurred at the edges and wrapped in shadow— but he knew you well enough to know when you were smiling.

He imagines the plush curve of your mouth, how it pressed hot and heavy against his own. You slip away, back to the far side of the bed, hand falling from his.

His misses your warmth, but turns over anyway. Knowing he’ll struggle to sleep with the chilled distance between your bodies.

But, his heart is selfish and it always has been. Even now, when it thumps so noisily he’s certain you can hear it. Even now, when you’re tucked in, wonderful and warm, close enough to touch, to hold.

And Steve knows, just like he knew last night with the crush of your lips against him, he’d always–always want you, in whatever way you’d have him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #reader insert #stranger things #teacher!steve #the kids aren't alright - rosewaterandivy

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