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storiesbyrhi · 2 years

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Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 2: Carrie

Eddie Munson x Chubby & Inexperienced!Reader 3358 words

Previous Chapters: 1 - Valium

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault; disordered eating and thoughts of food; unsupportive/highly critical parents; no beta; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: The very first circle of Hell is Hawkins High, and while you have yet to find a Heaven, there’s safety in presence of Eddie.

Chapter 2: Carrie

Almost three weeks had passed and you’d not spoken to Eddie. When you saw him in the halls, you exchanged smiles, but he never said anything. There was a part of you that was disappointed. Mostly you tried to remind yourself it was better to keep your head down. Stay out of the limelight. It seemed the cruel mistress known as fate, however, had other ideas.

“Alright Seniors!” and the assembly had begun.

The Seniors of Hawkins High were dragged into the stadium and told to sit on the bleachers and listen to a presentation on the importance of applying for colleges and planning their futures.

“Now, let’s get some real life inspiration!” one of the teachers said, picking the valedictorian to stand up and tell the class what their five-year-plan was.

Eddie was sitting off to the side thinking about how he couldn’t wait to get home to restring his guitar. He spotted you in the back row, opposite side. You looked bored and sad, which was kind of your default vibe.

The teacher picked another high achiever, and Chrissy Cunningham after that. They all spoke easily, didn’t mind being put on the spot. “Two more,” the teacher said, choosing the next victim. Then she said your name, “You’ll finish us off.”

Eddie watched you sit up straight and immediately begin to panic. You stared straight ahead, and while it looked like you were listening to the kid out the front talk about their early acceptance letter, he knew you were on the cusp of losing your shit.

Before he could weigh up the pros and cons, he was standing and walking from the stadium. “Uh – Mr. Munson, where do you think you’re going?” one of the teachers called after him. Eddie clenched his jaw and just kept walking. He knew he’d pay for it later but he didn’t care. His plan was only a five-minute one but it was going to save you.

When the fire alarm screamed to life two minutes after Eddie left the assembly, everyone knew it was him. Standing around with the rest of the school out on the oval, you looked around for Eddie; he was already in his van on his way home though. You began to think of ways you could thank him.

…

You stood in the entrance of the cafeteria and watched Eddie walk across tables, stick his tongue out at Jason Carver, then push his freshmen friends around. They left the room, talking about finding a sub, and you had no idea what they meant. Eddie had sat back down, returned to a normal state of being.

Sticking to the walls of the cafeteria, you made your way around to Eddie, quickly sitting in the free seat next to him before you could lose your nerve.

He said your name, the surprise evident.

“Hi. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you started, holding the envelope in your hands so tightly that you were causing wrinkles in the paper. “For the other day and the other week.”

When you held out the small blue envelope, Eddie looked at it for a second before taking it. “What’s this?” he asked.

The rest of his table was dead silent, watching in awe as this totally unexpected scene played out in front of them. You tried to not look away from Eddie to his friends. Seeing their confused expressions would make you even more impossibly nervous.

“I, um… It’s a thank you gift.”

Eddie took out the piece of paper in the envelope and read the list of words. He glanced up at you, bemused.

“I know you do music. You’re in a band. And then I read that the game you play, the Dungeons and Dragons one, it’s kind of like… a play. So, I wrote this… for you. It’s just a list of words that people don’t use much anymore. Cool words. I thought they’d be interesting for lyrics or the game or whatever. I don’t know. It’s stupid,”

“It’s not,” Eddie interrupted, putting you out of your misery. “It’s… thoughtful.” He settled on that, didn’t want to gush and embarrass himself. The image of you sitting with a dictionary in one hand and a piece of paper destined for him in the other was burning into his brain.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling.

“It’s okay. I just-” you were going to say, for what was probably the millionth time, ‘I just wanted to say thank you,’ when you were interrupted.

“Well doesn’t this just make sense!” Hayley said. You hadn’t noticed her arrive. How had you missed that green and white cheerleader outfit? How had you fallen into the trap? “Freaks attract freaks. Didn’t take you long to find your place, huh?” she aimed at you, reaching out to push your shoulder.

You stood, moved to leave, when Haley turned to Eddie. “I bet you’re into it, right?”

“Hayley,” you begged. “Don’t,”

“Oh! You haven’t told him?” She was so fucking joyful in the pain she was inflicting. You felt ashamed that she was ever your friend.

“Please,” you said, a tear running down your cheek.

“Trust you, Munson, to have a dirty blood kink,” Haley started. Eddie stood, easily towering over the cheerleader. It made her stumble backward.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, I’m not interested in hearing,” he said to her too politely.

“But it’s about your new girlfriend-”

“Don’t give a fuck, killjoy. Move along.”

Haley opened her mouth to speak, but Eddie had sat back down, turned his back to her, and rendered her invisible. Eddie looked to you, a second away from asking you to sit next to him, when Haley took the few short steps she needed to be close enough to push you.

Landing on your ass in front of everyone, you rushed to push your skirt back down before anyone could see the shorts you wore under it.

“Our very own fat Carrie. You’re so disgusting.”

You crawled to your feet and were running from the cafeteria before Eddie could even get out of his seat.

…

There were only so many places a crying girl could hide on the grounds of Hawkins High. Eddie used his best logical deduction to find you. Not behind the woodwork shed; you had been seen there too recently. Not in the girls’ bathroom; you would want to be away from the study body. Across the field then; the small forest would give you sanctuary.

Eddie followed the sounds of sniffling until he found you curled up behind a tree, bag pulled close to your chest. He sat on the forest floor next to you, saying nothing at first but handing you his bandana.

“I can wash it,” he said when you looked at him.

Before any more body fluid could escape your eyes and nose, you used the bandana like Eddie wanted you to.

“I’m sorry. She’s a bitch,” he said. “Really doing a disserve to cheerleaders everywhere,”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, not all of them are like her. And you weren’t.”

It made you wonder how many conversations with cheerleaders Eddie Munson had. You didn’t ask. Just sat, sad and embarrassed.

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck she was talking about, but, um, some contextual clues kind of point-”

“Don’t. Please,” you said.

“I’m just saying… People get so hung up on the most boring shit, you know? Like why give a fuck about stuff out of your control? Like whatever weird shit your body is doing. Like one time I had the fucking flu or something and I’d been sick all day. I puked in my bed, probably had enough energy to like, deal with it, but I just rolled over and went back to sleep.”

Eddie Munson was easily the strangest person you had ever spoken to. He was sitting on a bed of dead leaves and dirt, trying to give you a version of the classic ‘it’s okay your body is changing' speech, while maintaining some level of cool.

“Okay?” you whispered out, shrugging your shoulders a little.

“I have definitely eaten my own boogers,” he told you, absolutely no expression on his face. It made you laugh. “Sometimes I bite at my nails, so I reckon I’ve probably swallowed some. I tried to pierce my nipple last year. Got infected, now I have this weird scar. Just looks like I have a freaky nipple. And I’m actually very self-conscious about it, so that one is a secret between us, 'kay?”

You nodded at him, slowly reaching out a hand with your pinky finger extended. Promised. You were smiling and it’s all he wanted.

“So, do you wanna tell me yours? I bet it’s not as bad as you think,” Eddie tried.

When tears started to swell up in your eyes again, he got scared he’d pushed it. But you started to speak. “There was a party last year. We were playing 7 Minutes in Heaven,”

“People still play that?” Eddie asked, clearly unimpressed.

You shrugged, continuing, “I didn’t… I never liked games like that but I couldn’t say anything. The others already teased me because…” The redness in your cheeks told Eddie everything he needed to know. “When it was my turn it was with Andy he… He said that we were almost Seniors and we should be playing the proper version of the game…”

Eddie regretted asking because watching you recount it was hard. He was already trying to fill in the blanks of the rest of the story, prepare himself for whatever fucked up shit happened next.

“He said I had to… Like, go down on him.” Your voice was shrinking with each sentence. “But I wouldn’t. I’d been feeling sick the whole day and we had this gross cherry wine stuff. I was so scared I would throw up on him… He still made me kiss him. And he said I had to… let him touch me.”

Eddie said your name, reached out but pulled his hand back, worried that being touched was the last thing you needed. You let your legs drop from where they had been pulled up to your chest, sandwiching your bag to it. Eddie shuffled forward and started to play with your shoelaces, a gesture that told you he was there, listening, and it was okay.

“I let him. But, um-” It was the same point in the story you hesitated at when you told the school counsellor, Ms. Kelley. “I didn’t know, um, my period had started. And… Andy freaked out. Ran out and told everyone. They all said I was gross. And I couldn’t be a cheerleader if I was gross like that. So, they just stopped being… my friends. And I mean, I don’t blame-”

“Wait, no, hold on.” Eddie was confused. He was looking at you with an intensity that made you feel shaky. “The fucked up part of that story was fucking Barf Bag trying to get with you when you said no. That’s not cool, you know that right?”

Eddie searched your face for even a hint that you understood. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew, of course. But the white hot shame of feeling disgusting overpowered anything else. And it wasn’t like Ms. Kelley had made a big deal out of what Andy had done.

“You say the word, I’ll go find him right now and-” Eddie almost spat.

“No! No. You can’t tell anyone anything!” you nearly screamed, jumping to a kneeling position and moving to hold Eddie by the shoulders. Your panic was palpable. “Please promise. Please, please,”

“Babe, I won’t tell anyone shit,” Eddie reassured you, nodding frantically and putting his hands on your arms. “I just- That’s fucked up. What he did.”

You sat back down, right next to Eddie. He put his arms around you, pulled you into him. His kindness made you cry, and once you started you couldn’t stop.

“I wanna go home,” you managed to get out.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ll take you home,” Eddie said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, then cringing. He should have asked, he thought.

When you had calmed down enough to suggest moving, Eddie helped you to your feet and kept a strong grip on your hand as he led you to his van. You said nothing on the drive home, other than small directions to your house.

Eddie fucked around with the tapes for a bit at a stop sign, finally handing over a shoe box filled with mixes for you to pick from. There was one with a hand-drawn label, some sort of mermaid-type creature sketched onto it. It read ‘sea shanties’ but was actually just heavy metal. You didn’t mind.

As you collected your bag from the van’s floor and undid your seat belt, Eddie scribbled his number down on a piece of paper. “We don’t have to talk. But, later, can you call me, just so I know you’re alright?” he asked, entirely genuine and dead serious.

You nodded and got out of the van, offered a small wave from your front door, and went inside.

…

After the incident in the cafeteria, you pretended to be sick for a whole week. Your parents, the type that would say ‘we want what’s best for you’ but mean ‘you better get straight As,’ were pressuring you to return. Just to add salt to the wound, one of them commented that maybe if you had better eating habits, like you had when you were a cheerleader, you’d not take a week to bounce back from a tummy bug.

It was that – that suffocating parental presence – that pushed you to return to school in the end. You got through Monday and Tuesday without talking to anyone at all. Under the radar in the classroom. Strategically timing bathroom visits to avoid your ex-friends. Hiding during breaks. It was going well until Wednesday lunchtime.

You were sitting behind the old water tanks at the far end of the staff parking lot. It was technically out of bounds but it was unsupervised. There was no grass or seating, so students never ventured out there. You sat on the sandy dirt with your back against one of the tanks.

The clinking sound of Eddie’s chains was your first indicator someone was coming. You held your breath until he appeared in front of you, blocking the sun and casting you in cool shadow.

“Hey. Can I sit?” he asked. When you nodded, he sat next to you, mirroring your position of back to the tank, but he stretched his legs out in front of him whereas you had yours crossed. “Haven’t seen you around in a bit,”

“I was sick,” you lied.

Eddie could tell, but he wasn’t going to say anything. “Did I get you in trouble? With your dad?” he asked.

The day Eddie had dropped you home, you never called him to check in. He was worried and had worked himself up into a manic state. Eventually, he walked to the trailer park’s pay phone and used a phone book to find your number.

Your father had picked up and yelled at Eddie. And that was just because he was a boy calling late. If he knew it was Eddie Munson, there was a fair chance you would have been in a lot more trouble.

“It’s fine. I said you were calling about school stuff,” you replied. Your father hadn’t believed you.

“That’s what I told him too but he seemed pissed,”

“It’s fine,” you lied again. There were a few beats of silence. “How did you know I was here?” you asked him, looking over.

Eddie smiled. “I saw you leavin’ the library. I, ah, guess I’ve been worried. About you. I wanted to come see if you were okay?”

In short, he followed you.

“I’m okay,” you reported in that trademark sad and bored tone that Eddie didn’t like. It was a sound of hopelessness, of resignation to fate.

“Okay. Yeah, um, that’s… good. Uh, I also wanted to just say that if you want, you can sit with us. We have the same lunch period, and this is, uh…” Eddie paused and looked around, kicking at that dirt. “I love what you’ve done with the place, but it’s a bit of a trek from everything.”

You laughed a little, which made Eddie feel good. Really good. When you didn’t reply, just gave him a small nod, he continued.

“I know we’re like, rock bottom of the pecking order, but we’re also not assholes, you know? And the guys, once they know someone, they look out for them,” he said.

You just nodded again. Eddie wondered if you understood what he was trying to offer. Protection. Safety. Maybe, if you let them in, friendship.

“And, added bonus here, because I’m Dungeon Master, I oversee the trading of all food. You want to trade pretzels for brownie. I can make it happen,” he bragged.

When you laughed, Eddie was sure you’d at least consider it.

“Do you do that a lot?” you asked, your voice finding itself after days of disuse.

“What? Make freshmen give me the homemade treaties their mommies make? Oh, yeah. All the time, babe.”

Three! He’d made you laugh three times. Feeling bold, Eddie pulled out a joint and lit it. “So, you mind if I just sit here with you? Can’t really be fucked walking all the way back to Mordor just yet,”

“You can stay,” you answered quickly. “And, um. Thank you. For asking,”

“Asking to stay?” Eddie was confused.

“Yeah. You’re good at that. At, like, I don’t know. Boundaries, I guess.”

Eddie shrugged. “Sounds like a fancy way of saying I’m not a total asshole,”

“You’re not. At all,”

“Well, I value your opinion, so thank you. You are also not an asshole,” Eddie said, adding a small bow to accentuate his point.

You smiled wide. “Thanks?”

The rest of lunch went by quickly with the aid of Eddie’s wild storytelling and the comfortable silence that sat between you. It was the most at ease you had been in a really long time. You would even go as far as to say it was the happiest you had been in a really long time.

Eddie walked you to your next class, smiling at you gently as he reminded you, “Tomorrow. Come sit with us, ‘kay?”

…

It wasn’t like you didn’t know where you were going. Yet, you stood awkwardly outside the doors of the cafeteria when the next day rolled around and it was time for lunch. There were a million panicked thoughts buzzing through your head.

It’s stupid to put yourself in the firing line. Being in the cafeteria put you closer to the cheerleaders and basketball team. What the fuck were you doing? Sitting with the same people regularly meant they would inevitably notice your eating habits. Stupid. Stupid. And all that food. Everywhere.

You were about to turn and bolt when Gareth, one of Eddie’s right hand men, stopped and greeted you. “Eddie said you might come sit with us,” he said casually. He frowned when you just stared at him. “Um… Are you coming?”

Slowly you nodded, then followed Gareth through the doors and to the table.

“Look who I found,” Gareth announced as he took his usual spot.

Before you had time to think about it, Eddie had motioned for his friends to move down a seat, making room for you next to him.

“Uh, hi,” you said to the table.

“Glad you made it,” Eddie greeted, sitting up straighter and angling himself towards you.

After the novelty of a new person at their table wore away, everyone engaged in their normal teenage conversations. Despite everything you had predicted, it was comfortable sitting there. Although you didn’t insert yourself into the conversation, you didn’t feel ignored. You ate your green grapes, every now and then swapping one for one of Eddie’s pretzels.

You returned on Friday, and every school day after that.

CHAPTER 3

End Note: I promise I'm going to heal all of us just a little bit with this fic. Trust me and the process, yeah?

Let me know your thoughts and feelings!

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives

#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Fanfiction #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader #Eddie Munson/Chubby!Reader

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aicosu · 9 months

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Hellcheer WW1 Prompt

When he starts yelling she rushes to his side.

"It's my leg, it's my leg, it's gone, I can't feel it!"

Chrissy stops short at the iron bedpost, face falling from a tell-tale overconcern for a specific patient to a deadpan.

Eddie bites his cigarette still, staring past his month old missing leg to her unamused face. "Not funny the twenty-fifth time?"

Chrissy shakes her head with pursed lips and tosses the wet rag from her hand wash to his face.

"Watch the cherry!!" He bats the thing to the floor, splattering water over himself and his cigarette, sputtering.

"You can't have company every hour!"

"Yes, very busy Nurse Cunningham was staring into the souls of our country's enemies through her washpot."

She flushes fast, heat trapping beneath her hospital bonnet to steam her uniform's wrinkles flat. "I-I wasn't—"

Eddie squints at her with a wide smile, inhaling hard and releasing it through his nose.

She sits quickly on his cot, bouncing them in a squick she tries not to feel insecure about in the ballroom of bedded soldiers and fellow nurses.

Eddie sits up with wide eyes, cigarette falling from his lips. It drops to the sheets and they both scramble hot hands over the cinder to roll it to the floor. She crushes it beneath her kitten heels.

And then their left holding hands and staring like forlorn lovers in the middle of battle.

"I didn't think you'd actually sit."

"Well, I have, so speak some nonsense you want morale for or I'll be reprimanded!"

"Uh, uhm, uh, er, I, you're, you've, s-see, I like—" he stammers, gritty knuckles from dirt and guns rubbing nervous and inexperienced over her hands.

A clack of a cane signals the Mistress of the ward stopping nearby, and Chrissy leans forward fast to pet his forehead and coo. "The poor boy is vapored!"

Eddie snaps his jaw shut.

The mistress keeps walking.

"Vapored?" He hisses wildly. "What the fuck is vapored?"

"I don't know!" She pushes him back, crossing her arms.

Eventually, they snigger quietly, him into his bandage and her into her apron.

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #fanfic #server prompt

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hellcheerficdatabase · 6 months

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Save yourself, I'll deal with the devil.

Author: @bibiche007

Rating/Warning: General

Chapter Count: 1/1

Description:

Phillip Cunningham sighs as he looks at his watch, which reads 8:02 AM. The day had only just begun, and he was two minutes late. He looked at himself in front of his bathroom mirror. All he sees is a cowardly man. A man who will apologize, when his wife will get irritated in the kitchen, because he took two minutes longer than she allows, in the bathroom to get ready. He's disgusted when he sees his reflection. All he sees is a pitiful man. A failed marriage, an unhappy mistress, and kids who suffer.

He sighs one last time, ready to endure the music, and finally exits. However, something catches Phillip's eye as he crosses the hall. The door to his daughter's room is half-open.

Well, one of the reasons why Laura is such a nuisance these days is that things are getting out of her control. Her husband is cheating on her, her son isn't doing as well at school as expected, and her daughter has left her perfect boyfriend for a trailer park degenerate ( her words, not his).

And it just so happens that his daughter is sharing her bed, with the boy in question.

Tags: Alternate universe- no vecna, hurt and comfort, angst, Chrissy needs a hug, we hate laura in this house, Eddie is a sweetie, fluff, Philip POV, outside POV, one-shot, drabble, status: completed

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foundtherightwords · 7 months

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Sunlight Through the Mist - Chapter 10 (last chapter)

Pairing: Hellcheer (Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham) Regency AU

Summary: Having witnessed the broken marriage of his parents, Edward Munson, Baron Hurstfield, always regards love with a cynical eye. When circumstances compel him to marry and produce an heir, he quickly proposes to Christine Conyngham, a debutante whose reputation is hanging by a threat after an ill-fated affair. All Edward wants is to save his family estate, but as beautiful, fragile Christine finds her way into his wary heart, their marriage of convenience may become something neither of them ever expects - a union of love.

Warnings: angst, past domestic violence, suicide attempt, smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 4k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Edward was up and dressed before it was fully light. The entire house was still asleep when Will carried the bags to the door, yawning all the way. Wheeler had gone ahead to the livery stable to bring the carriage around.

"To Dover, sir?" Wheeler asked, as Edward climbed in.

"Yes."

The driver and the footman exchanged a glance, but neither asked why they were stealing away in the wee hour of the morning like some thieves, without their mistress, or why they were going to Dover. There was something in the gloomy look on their young master's face that told them it was best to hold their tongues and simply do as they were told.

As the carriage passed by Covent Garden, Edward suddenly thought of Molly. He'd planned to visit her while he was in London, to make sure she had what she needed for the winter—always a difficult time for the women on the streets. Now that he was going away indefinitely, he felt he should say a proper goodbye.

After telling Wheeler and Will to warm themselves at a coffee house, Edward made his way to the King's Head. As expected, he found Molly there amongst her friends, indulging in some early—or late, depending on how one looked at it—imbibition.

"Eddie!" she exclaimed in delight upon seeing him. "Where have you been? I heard that you were married!"

"I was," he replied, then corrected himself, "I am." He was still married, wasn't he?

"Well, well, well, then what are you doing here so early in the morning then? Why aren't you keeping your missus's bed warm?"

Edward winced. He signaled for the barman to refill Molly's glass and to bring them some breakfast. "Whatever you have," he said, when the barman shot him a disbelieving look. Customers in establishments such as this rarely asked for food, but for all of Molly's cheerfulness, she looked like she could use some sustenance.

"Where's your friend?" he asked Molly. "The girl I saw, uh—" He was ashamed to realize he didn't remember her name.

"Anne? She went home. Her no-good da, the one who kicked her out, finally popped the clogs, so her mam sent for her to come home. Poor lamb was so happy." Molly looked wistful. "Lucky her."

Edward nodded. His own suffering felt less significant in the face of the hardships these women faced every day, and it gladdened his heart to know at least one of them had managed to find some happiness.

Later, over bread, cheese, and some bacon burned to a blackened crisp—The King's Head was not known for its cuisine—brought to them by the sullen barman, Edward found himself telling Molly everything, or almost everything, about his marriage, about Christine, and about Hauxwell's odious return. He hadn't meant to open his heart to her, but something in Molly's sympathetic eyes compelled him.

"So now you're running away?" she asked, once he had finished.

"Certainly not!" he said, outraged. "I'm leaving to let her make her own decision. I'm not going to fight another man for her."

Molly shook her head, exasperated. "You men and your pride," she scoffed. "Women are not allowed to choose. You should know that. Our whole life, we are told to do this and do that, don't speak, don't think. Do that long enough, and we no longer know our own mind or even that we have a mind to begin with. Or we may know it but no longer have a voice to speak for ourselves."

Edward stared at her. "What are you saying?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that she wants you to fight for her?"

***

Molly's words were still ringing in Edward's ears when he left The King's Head. Was she right? Did Christine see his refusal to demand satisfaction from Hauxwell not as a sign of respect for her autonomy, but rather a sign of weakness, weakness of his character and of his love for her? Was that doubt justified? She had asked him to behave as a husband, and yet he had behaved like a child, throwing a tantrum and stomping off when he didn't get his way.

Then he came to a decision. He was leaving, but not before making sure that Hauxwell truly loved Christine and would see her right. At least then he could leave with a clear conscience.

He directed Wheeler to the Cravens' residence, an ostentatious pile of marble and gilt, in Mayfair. Edward opened his pocket watch. It was just after eight o'clock, far too early to be calling. Still, Hauxwell had robbed him of his sleep, as it were, so Edward considered rousing him out of bed early adequate retaliation. If it made him petty, so be it.

The door was opened by a servant, who gazed at Edward in bewilderment. Even after Edward gave him his card and asked to see His Grace the Duke, the servant still stood at the door, mouth agape. Apparently, a visitor at this time of day was so extraordinary that he didn't know what to do. Finally, he had to summon help from the butler, a fellow looking even more snobbish than Mrs. Conyngham's.

"I'm afraid his lordship is not up yet, sir," he said.

"Could you wake him up for me, please?" said Edward, placidly. "I'm sure he'll agree to see me."

The butler sniffed, then turned and marched up the stairs, leaving Edward at the door. Angry shouts followed by soft murmurings floated down from the second floor. It was some minutes before the butler returned and conducted Edward to the library. Moments later, Hauxwell stalked through the door, wearing a morning robe and an expression of extreme peevishness.

"This is highly improper, Hurstfield," he grumbled. "It'd better be a matter of great urgency."

"Oh, not quite," Edward replied with a nonchalant air purposefully designed to aggravate Hauxwell. "I merely have a question for you."

"Well? What is it?"

"Do you truly love Christine?"

Hauxwell's face went bright red. "I don't see what—"

"It's no use dissembling," Edward interrupted him. "I know of your conversation with her."

Hauxwell's mouth worked, but no sound came out. He seemed to be putting all his effort into staying calm. "If you wish to demand satisfaction," eventually he said, "why didn't you do so last night? Or are you too afraid?"

Edward sniggered at Hauxwell's pathetic attempt at bravado. "I'm not here to challenge you," he said, "but to make you an offer."

"What sort of an offer?"

"Divorce your wife." Hauxwell's eyes went round, but he said nothing. "I shall divorce Christine," Edward continued slowly, for even thinking the idea was painful to him, let alone voicing it, but he had made up his mind. "That way, you two can marry."

Hauxwell continued to stare at him for a long while, before bursting into derisive laughter.

"Oh, I've often heard that you are eccentric, Hurstfield, but I didn't know it was to such an extent!" he said, once the laughter subsided. "Is this your attempt at a jest?"

"If you truly loved Christine, you wouldn't compromise her with an affair," Edward said.

"And how is a divorce any less scandalous?" When Edward didn't answer and only looked at him pointedly, Hauxwell let out another bark of laughter. "This isn't eccentricity, but naïveté! Have you any idea how impossible a divorce is? Why, even the Prince Regent failed to get a divorce from the Princess when he brought charges against her in the House of Lords!"

Of course Edward knew this. And even if a divorce was possible, it would bring ruin to them all. He only wished to see if Hauxwell's love for Christine was true enough, and strong enough, for Hauxwell to consider it.

"You can go to Scotland, as Lord Paget and Lady Wellesley did," Edward said with a shrug, referring to a well-known scandal that rocked London a few years back. "They are happily married now." He didn't mention the duel that took place between Lord Paget and Lady Wellesley's brother, or the gossip and rumors that surrounded the couple and their extended families even now.

Upon realizing that Edward was serious, Hauxwell's face turned ugly. He leaned closer and said through gritted teeth, "Now look here, Hurstfield, if you're looking to blackmail me—"

"I'm not."

"—my wife is expecting and on bed rest. I would not have the life of my unborn child endangered because of you!"

Edward was stunned. He had come to Hauxwell with every intention of seeing the good in the man, of taking a step back and leaving Christine free to be with whomever she chose, but he didn't expect the depth of Hauxwell's depravity. Did Christine know? Or did she still think of Hauxwell as a hero, tragically separated from his one true love, willing to turn his back on society to be reunited with her?

"You should have thought of your wife and child before importuning my wife," Edward said coldly.

Hauxwell scoffed. "I've heard enough," he said, reaching for the bell rope to summon a servant. "I shall not stand to be lectured in my own house by a—a boor such as yourself!"

"And I have heard enough," Edward said, moving toward the door. "At least have the decency to tell Christine the truth about your intention."

"What did you hope to accomplish by coming here, Hurstfield?" Hauxwell called after him, determined to have the last word. "Do you think Christine would stay with you once she found out you threatened me? She's already made her choice!"

Edward's hands itched to hit Hauxwell, to wipe that smug look off of his face, but he told himself it would not do to get arrested for assault. He stalked out of the mansion without uttering another sound.

As the carriage rolled down the southbound road out of London, Edward's blood churned after the hateful interview with Hauxwell. He tried to distract himself by calculating the route. If they made haste, they could arrive in Dover that night. The list of boats, which Will had managed to procure after all, indicated there was going to be one headed for Calais early the next morning. But Edward couldn't fix his mind on the journey ahead. His thoughts, like the beam of a lighthouse, kept circling back to Christine.

One thing that Hauxwell had said stuck in Edward's mind. He'd claimed that Christine had already made her choice. But she hadn't. Unless she had secretly sent Hauxwell a message after the reception, it must have been another lie Hauxwell told to rattle Edward up.

And what about the Duchess's pregnancy? Christine had asked Hauxwell about his wife the previous night, but he had smoothly deflected her question. So it was very likely that she didn't know about the Duchess. She had been prepared to run to Hauxwell when she learned of his wedding, but would this be one step too far for her? Would this be the one line she would not cross?

As he mulled over these questions, it dawned on Edward that he was making the same mistake he always had with Christine—he was ascribing her thoughts and motives instead of simply talking to her. In the early days of their marriage, he had been afraid that his questions would be domineering and that he would come off as tyrannical as his father, and he had developed the terrible habit of trying to guess her mind. Even when relations between them improved, he never quite rid himself of that habit, for he was still afraid, afraid that he may not like what she had to say or vice versa, and that they would argue and upset the comfort they'd found with each other. But now, he realized that he felt much closer to her when they talked, even when they quarreled.

Along with this realization came another thought—if Christine truly didn't know how despicable Hauxwell really was, then Edward couldn't let her give herself to such a man. To Hell with leaving her free to choose and not forcing her. Edward had no doubt that Hauxwell would discard her as soon as he was bored with her or their affair became an inconvenience. Edward had saved her from that fate once before, and he would not let her suffer the same thing again.

Opening the carriage's window, Edward stuck his head out and called to the driver.

"Sir?" came Wheeler's reply.

"Turn around. We're going back to London."

Edward could feel the confusion coming from Wheeler as he exchanged a glance with Will, who was sitting next to him on the driver's seat, but to the man's credit, he didn't say anything, simply started turning the carriage around.

However, one of the horses refused to move. Wheeler jumped down to check on it, swore under his breath, and came up to the window. "Th' horse's thrown a shoe, sir," he said.

Edward let out an exasperated breath. He got out of the carriage and looked around. They were on a particularly lonely stretch of Blackheath, but he could just make out some chimney smoke in the distance. He pointed it out to Wheeler. "What do you reckon? Should one of us take a horse and ride there to get help?"

"Th' horse are not saddled, sir," Wheeler reminded him. "'sides, I hear plenty o' horrible stories about this place. They say footpads and highwaymen often lurk 'round here." Next to Wheeler, young Will went pale. No doubt the memory of getting shot by the highwayman eight months ago was still fresh in the boy's mind.

"They'd be foolish to attack in broad daylight, wouldn't they?" Edward said to put the boy at ease.

"Aye. Still, I'd feel a sight better if we were to stay here wi' th' carriage. You, Will, go back th' way we came and see if you can find th' shoe. I can wrap it up, after a fashion, 'til we get to a village wi' a smithy."

Will opened his mouth to protest, but Edward pulled a pistol out of the driver's box and handed it to him. "Here, to make you feel safer." The boy wavered for a moment, then he stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. Tucking the pistol into his coat pocket, he ambled down the road, carefully checking the grass banks on either side for the fallen shoe.

They watched until he disappeared around the bend, then Wheeler went back to the horses and checked all their hoofs. Left with nothing to do, Edward started pacing by the carriage, trying to keep his body moving so his mind would stay still. But even so, he couldn't stop himself from going over all the things he would say to Christine. What if she didn't believe him? What if she decided he made it up to smear Hauxwell's name? What if she simply didn't care? If she really was that callous, Edward decided, then she and Hauxwell were well-matched, and Edward would simply have to admit that he'd made a grave mistake in falling in love with her.

The sound of wheels approaching made him look up. Perhaps Will had not found the horseshoe, but at least he'd found help.

What Edward saw made his heart stop for a second.

It was Christine, wearing her customary blue bonnet and only a thin coat, driving a strange phaeton.

As the phaeton drew near, a dreamlike feeling washed over Edward, just like when he saw her after the mudslide—he couldn't tell if she was really there or merely a beautiful mirage conjured up by his mind. When the phaeton was a dozen yards away, she pulled on the reins, jumped down before the horse had stopped completely, and twisted her ankle. Edward's mind urged him to run over to help her, but his body remained frozen in place. Wheeler, who was standing closer, managed to catch her and set her on her feet, though her bonnet flew off, hanging down her back by its ribbons. She pulled it crookedly back on her head and pushed away some unruly locks of hair. The gesture was so familiar that the dreamlike illusion was shattered, replaced by a reality that was no less beautiful than the illusion, perhaps even more so, because it was real.

She came up to Edward, flushing, looking both guilty and happy at seeing him, and the ice that had settled into his heart the previous night started to thaw a little.

"What in God's name are you doing here?" he asked, when he finally found his voice again.

"I may ask you the same thing," she said breathlessly. "I thought you were going back to Hurstfield. Why are you going to Dover?"

She must have heard from the servants. "I should've thought the answer to that is obvious."

"No, not to me."

Her eyes as they looked up at him were so soft and imploring, a hint of tears in the corners making them all the more radiant, and Edward was ashamed of all his unkind thoughts about her. He understood that the fire he'd seen in her the previous night, the fire that came from Hauxwell, would only burn her out, leaving nothing but ashes and bones, but this, this warmth, this tenderness, could nurture and protect. Suddenly his flight to France seemed like the most enormous folly. Still, he answered truthfully, "I want to go somewhere that doesn't remind me of you."

Christine let out a tiny, almost inaudible "Oh", and her eyes brightened even more, along with a hint of a smile, half-loving, half-sarcastic, as though she was laughing at his dramatic reaction. "I'm sorry, but you can't escape me that easily," she said, stepping closer toward him. "You have to take me with you."

"Why?"

"We haven't had our wedding journey yet, and I've never been to France."

His throat constricted with hope, so tightly that he could only whisper, "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She slipped her hand into his and used that as an anchor to pull herself into him, closing the gap between them. Her fingers were bare—she must have left London in such a hurry that she hadn't even thought to put on gloves—and freezing cold. "I've made my choice."

The last of the ice around Edward's heart cracked. He heard no more. Pressing his other hand to her face, he kissed her as he'd never kissed her before, not caring if Wheeler saw, not caring if another carriage may pass by at that moment. He kissed her until her hand warmed in his, until the ice around his heart melted completely away. It was only when she gasped for breath that he remembered to pull back a little, but still kept their foreheads pressed to each other.

"I have a confession," he said, once their breaths had returned somewhat to normal. "I'm not going to France."

"I've gathered as much. You were going back for me, weren't you?"

"I didn't trust that fool Hauxwell to deliver my message."

"Hush. Don't speak of him." She covered his mouth with her hand, which gave him an excellent opportunity to kiss her again.

"Why not? I'm not afraid of him," he said, kissing each and every one of her fingertips.

"You should've told me that last night."

"I've made such a dreadful hash of things, haven't I?"

She wrenched her hands out of his grasp to press them to his cheeks, caressing his dimples with her thumbs. "We both have," she said, smiling. "Never have greater fools breathed the breath of life. But we'll learn together." She stretched up for another kiss. Edward felt quite weak with relief and happiness, and he tightened his grip around Christine like she was a crutch or, indeed, a part of his own body, afraid he might crumple if he let go.

Wheeler, who had been waiting for them to calm down, now gave a polite cough to remind them of his presence, his eyes twinkling patiently. Edward turned to the old driver, saw him nod toward the phaeton with a questioning look, and remembered the matter at hand.

"Where did you get that?" he asked Christine.

Her mouth dropped open. "It was Hauxwell's. He came to my mother's house to tell me about you, and I—I just took it. I wasn't thinking straight."

Edward wanted to ask what the arrogant fool had said exactly, what had given her this sudden clarity and strength of will when she had been so afraid before, but he didn't want to remind her of Hauxwell. There would be plenty of time for that later. Besides, the thought of Christine stealing Hauxwell's phaeton and horse was too amusing. Edward laughed out loud and hugged her more tightly.

"I bet he loved that," he said.

"We'd better send it back, before he has me hanged for a horse thief."

"We can leave it in Blackheath for him to pick up."

Just as Edward was about to tell Wheeler to take the phaeton into the village and find help, Will came back with the horseshoe. While Edward watched them deal with the horse, the idea of crossing the English Channel on an unsteady little boat and traipsing through the Continent in the cold and snow no longer seemed so appealing to him.

"So do you still want to go to France?" he asked, turning to Christine. "Or do you want to go home?"

She smiled at him, understanding. "Home," she said.

***

In the end, because they had to go through London again to reach the Great North Road, they decided to leave the phaeton and horse at a livery stable in town and send a message to the doubtlessly irate owner to pick them up. They also sent Will to Mrs. Conyngham's house to get Christine's things. Will came back with Christine's traveling case, grinning, saying Mrs. Conyngham had alternated between shouting at him and wheedling him into telling her where Christine had gone, but when he said her ladyship was safe with his lordship, Mrs. Conyngham had clamped her mouth shut and not uttered another word.

They stopped at Peterborough as usual. This time, the landlord didn't have to ask how many rooms they required. He quickly had a waiter conduct them to the same chamber where they'd stayed just two days prior.

The moment the door closed behind them, the world disappeared and nothing else existed but the two of them, the bed, and the fire. There was much they wished to say to each other, much to apologize for and explain and set right, but all that could wait. For now, there were different ways for them to converse and connect with one another. No need for words.

There was, however, one thing Edward had to tell Christine, something he had been saying for months but only in secret, afraid of how she might react to it. Now, with her in his arms, her head on his shoulder, her hair falling across his chest, and her breath blowing warm and steady on his skin, his fear had vanished. He gently put his hand under her chin and tipped her face up so he could look her in the eye.

"I love you," he said.

She wasn't taken aback. She looked as though she had been expecting it, and with that look, he knew he hadn't made a mistake in falling in love with her. She understood. She'd always understood. Her eyes shone in the firelight, and with a glowing, knowing smile, she replied with the words he didn't realize he had hoped for, but was ecstatic to hear nonetheless:

"I love you too."

And that was enough.

THE END

And that concludes Edward's story! Thank you so much for reading. As for now, I'm going to let Edward and Christine enjoy their happily ever after, but I'm still keeping my options open for more Hurstfield Hall stories in the future. In the meantime, if you haven't read Christine's POV (the original "Love in a Mist") or the sequel, "Love in a Storm" (it has alternating POVs, so you won't miss Edward), please go ahead! And keep an eye out for more Hellcheer stories from me in the future!

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #eddissy #hellcheersource #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

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neonponders · 2 years

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Eddie knew the exact moment that things were officially too far with Chrissy Cunningham.

Because beforehand, minor exchanges (drug deals, call ‘em what they are) lasted five minutes. Often his clients didn’t even need to come inside the double-wide trailer. In fact, he preferred they didn’t. It was a good practice, keeping work out of the house. The only people he had over were the rare friend and hookups, and even the latter were only an hour tops.

So Eddie never bothered cleaning up the place.

The first exchange with Chrissy Freaking Cunningham was bizarre for both of them. She wanted something strong enough to warrant a silly euphemism like Special K, and she trembled in his living room while he had to find the damn stuff. Like a first tattoo, he expected her to bail any second, and might’ve taken longer than necessary to find it because he expected to walk out of his room to find the place empty.

To her credit, Cunningham had some spine. Not enough for Eddie to actually sell her Special K - no one but real dealers knew the difference between powdered sugar and hard drugs. If she somehow managed to find the bravery to snort it, the blast of sugar would scare her enough without hurting her -

Chrissy returned it.

Eddie couldn’t believe it.

“I-I-Um,” she fumbled, holding the little baggie out to him when he found her again at the picnic table in the woods. She took a gathering breath and said firmly, “I wanted to give this back to you. I figured...Special K is kind of a high diving board.”

“Yeah,” he smiled softly. Honestly impressed. Chrissy had a unique sort of bravery that the rest of the Hawkins sheep wouldn’t appreciate. “Listen, I don’t have your cash on me at the moment. But if you want to consider it a deposit, I can be your revolving door for some good, old fashioned kush. Whenever you need.”

Her narrow shoulders hitched up, shy and bashful. “Like right now?”

Eddie’s rings tapped a melody on his black lunchbox. “It would be my pleasure, Mistress Cunningham.”

“Oh my gosh,” she laughed. “Just don’t laugh at me.”

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t really get the chance to. Cunningham held her smoke well. She took a little hit from the joint he sealed for her, held onto it with small, rocking motions of her head. Like she was counting to ten. And then exhaled in a rush, “Woah.”

He inhaled a bigger hit and smiled dreamily. “Comfy diving board?”

For a moment, she just stared at him. Like she had forgotten he was there, or it was finally landing that she was getting high with Eddie the Freak Munson.

Then her eyes practically shut with how big her smile consumed her face. “Yeah. I can do this much.”

And then she became a regular...something. Client. Friend.

No, not friend. He didn’t even clean up for friends, so why the shit was he sneaking things into drawers when Chrissy wasn’t looking? He was halfway through vacuuming the living room before he realized what he was doing.

Chrissy isn’t a fool. She notices when Eddie throws dirty dishes into the freezer as if she won’t hear the commotion. She begins doing little things to help clean up the place.

But not too much. She learned that lesson with her little brother. Jason was an anomaly in how his military veteran father ingrained cleanliness in him; so much so that he didn’t like Chrissy to clean anything at all. It sometimes felt like she wasn’t allowed in his space. Or...that he didn’t have space to begin with. Space that meant lived in. His car still smelled new after years of basketball away games.

Eddie’s spaces were very lived in. His old van might not drive smoothly, but Eddie drove well, and it was filled with spare clothes, musical stuff, and even snacks.

His bedroom was admittedly a travesty. But it was his, and it was bursting with personality. When they finally...progressed into it somehow making sense that she would sit in his room instead of the living room, he had to throw a pile of clothes and random things onto the bed for her to access the futon couch.

At least that put the bed out of commission. Literally out of sight and out of mind with everything he had to put on it to make room.

But he made room. And soon he figured out organization and storage. Eventually Chrissy felt confident to tease him, “Oh my gosh, you actually put away your condoms and hand cuffs.”

Eddie laughed a bit too loudly as he played with his hair. She smiled because she loved that nervous habit. “Oh, those! You noticed?”

She nodded gently. “I wasn’t sure if you were trying to scare me off, but then I began to wonder if you just forget about them. Do you know that condoms expire?”

Eddie sputtered, “That’s not an issue,” and then realized, “I mean. Yikes. That sounded incredibly douchy.”

“I’m a cheerleader, remember? Our parents might’ve forgotten that teenagers sleep together, but it’s only douchy when you’re a douche about it.”

He absorbed all that with a gape on his face but he recovered with a rocking of his body. Eddie did that a lot; move his whole body with whatever he was feeling. It was nice. Honest. “Duly noted, highness.”

“God, I told you to stop that!” she grinned.

“And I told you, that your golden knight is going to totally blow his lid if and when he finally gets wise to you hanging out with me instead of his...what do you even do together? What him condition his hair?”

“I thought that’s what I was here tonight for,” she tossed back.

He flicked his hair off his shoulders. “I have curly hair. We’re not the same. I have needs.”

She laughed and followed him into the small bathroom. “And you’re still okay with me trimming your hair?”

He rotated in front of the vanity, double over enough to be more level with her. “I guarantee that any mistakes will be our little secret...so long as they stay little. My hair contains multitudes of secrets.”

She didn’t feel the need to respond while he found the scissors, a comb, and a lobster hair clip. That was nice too. Eddie made noise but quiet had its own place with him as he continued, “But at a certain point, even I can’t hide the brambles in this lion’s mane. A trim will soften me up again. Now, you said you’ve done this before?”

“I cut mine and my brother’s hair all the time,” she promised. “And the girls’ on the cheer squad. Half of them pay to have hair like yours.”

“And don’t you forget it,” he smirked, handing her the handles of the scissors.

Without further ado, she said, “You’re gonna want to put a towel around your shoulders.”

He did, flipping his hair out from underneath -

Chrissy used the lobster clip to hold the towel in place. Eddie peered down at it and wondered, “Doesn’t that go in my - ”

“Nope.”

The air audibly caught in his throat before he shut his mouth and let her do her thing. She smiled to herself and used the comb to carefully section his hair. As she moved with tiny steps around him sitting on the toilet, he apologized, “Sorry it’s not exactly a salon.”

“Neither is a girls’ locker room. Or the bus. Or the carpool vans.”

“Oh, so this is a step up,” he chimed.

She smiled. “Yeah, definitely.”

He chuckled, moving his tongue inside his cheek. Her smile faded into something soft. She liked his sound when it was deep in his chest.

“It doesn’t happen often. Me, being a step up, I mean.”

Chrissy inhaled before she knew what to say. She didn’t want him to think lowly of himself, but also didn’t quite feel like she had the right to...to...she wasn’t even sure of how to finish that sentence.

So she replied, “There’s nothing quite like having to cover up the damage made from a speed bump - Careful!”

Eddie laughed and laughed. “Is that why Mary Connelly suddenly had a hair chop?”

“Yeah! Thankfully she liked the bob because nothing else was fixing it.”

He gasped theatrically and tapped his fingertips together. “What delicious gossip. Give me more. What can I use?”

But it was a bubble that had to burst some time.

Chrissy didn’t come over for a week. Eddie was slow on gossip, seeing as his sources were limited, but the sheep loved to bahhh...

Chrissy Cunningham broke up with Jason Carver.

Eddie felt torn between the overall news, as well as Jason’s openness about who broke up with who.

He found her at their picnic table. She slouched over the wooden panels, chin resting on her stacked fists. Her eyes moved to the noise of his lunchbox, but drift back to neutral. “Hi, Eddie.”

He sighed. There was no point in talking about it. That’s all Hawkins High was doing at the moment, talking about it.

“I’ve got strawberries or our usual.”

Her brows pinched together. “What are strawberries?”

His mouth curved on its own as he watched her. When his silence made her finally look up, he said, “Fruit. Just fruit.”

“Oh.” A little huff of mirth came out of her nose, and she sat up. “I’ll take strawberries.”

#there's probably going to be a part 2 #chrissy x eddie #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #ficlet #neonponders #tw drug use

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senorablack · 1 year

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Have a Little Faith, There's Magic in the Night

Words: 7347 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Romantic Comedy, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Bakery, POV Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson Friendship, Lovers to enemies to lovers Summary: In which there is a rivalry between baker and barista, a minor top-shelf black cardamom discrepancy, baked goods used as an avenue for anger management, mass non-sexual prostitution for a good cause, and an old kinda kiss that means something new—all at the heart of a festival under the hazy harvest moon.

Eddie’s sure of a couple of truths come Hawkins’ 30th Annual Harvest Festival: there will be blood shed, for one, but by the metal-gods will there be premium baked goods.

An offering meant to appease hundreds of Hawkins’ most hungry is entirely contingent on epic ingredients. Everything must be thoroughly vetted. Sourced locally. Carefully tended to when acquired. It’s a game of time and knowing who’s who when gathering all these little morsels of magic, and Eddie’s a seasoned player. Saturdays down in the square hosts a gaggle of merchants who sell organic goodies and Eddie’s here for a lot of fun sundry, but also a dealbreaker.

Eddie knew that this specific Saturday the who’s who of black cardamom will be near the consignment shop with a little extra of what he’ll be needing. Eddie didn’t know, however, that that slimy sludge-pushing Harrington would be here haggling Eddie’s guy for his black cardamom.

“This will not be something I take to heart, stew on for days, and blow up later for.” Chrissy is saying at his right. “Repeat it with me.”

It’s not that he refuses to repeat it with her, it’s that he can’t. There’s little roaming around up there in Ed-landia save the image of the Fellowship down in a chamber of Moria right before they fought off those orcs. He hears the war drums from the deep. He anticipates the impending battle. Knows they are coming. And if Eddie had a bow he’d have already been setting up an arrow and aiming for the heart of the nearest snarling idiot. There aren’t any weapons nor orcs to fend off, though, just his severe indignation and Harrington and all his audacity.

“CEASE!” Eddie’s yelling, because that’s how regular people speak, “HALT! Release those fuckin’ pods or so help me!”

Harrington, clad a thin white tee and mom jeans, turns to him before Emmanuel does, looking every part a parent who’s one LEGO block between the toes away from a proper meltdown. He’s got the gall to put his hands on his hips in that condescending way he’s known to do, brows knitted together, eyes lit on fire as if Eddie’s the damn mistress here.

“Eddie, how’re doin, mijo?” asks Manny with a sunny smile and wide open arms. Eddie tries to cool some in the light of Manny’s all encompassing hug. They are arguably the best in town and he owes it to them to be clear headed (as to achieve maximum enjoyment). Eddie gives as good as he gets with Manny, squeezing the hell out of him like he’d never get another chance to again, before pulling back. Eddie gives him a little pat on the shoulder and lowers his voice.

“Manny, my man. What’s going on here?”

Manny’s never been a man to mince his words, so he’s vocal about the betrayal, which, does not come to a surprise to, nor devastates Eddie. Except you know, it does. It very much does.

“This young man says he’s interested in some black cardamom.”

“That can’t be right.” Eddie’s blinking, rubbing at the place where his heart used to be.

“No, I am really here for black cardamom.” Steve interrupts with his stupid ass pink mouth. Eddie decides that he’s not heard him.

“What are you talking about?” Manny asks.

“I mean, that can’t be right because Steve’s no mere mortal—he’s a demon.”

“See that you still think you’re funny.” Steve says through a clenched jaw. Eddie grins at that, but does not look at him.

“No matter how many times…”Chrissy sighs, long and heavy while inspecting some star anise. “… I tell him otherwise. Hey Steve, it’s good to see you.”

“See that you think that this conversation involves you, Harrington.” Eddie says, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking out to the bustle and hustle of the farmers market.

“You’re literally bitching about me—oh, hey Chrissy how are you—in front of me. Anyway, I just need a quarter of a pound. I’d really appreciate it, Mr. Zuniga.”

#steddie #my steddie fic

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delikaitxx · 11 months

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Hey y’all! Just really quick before we hop into chapter four! From Friday to Wednesday I’ll be out of town. I was initially going to do a double post with Chapter Four and Five, but I’m still planning Five. I’ll probably write it this week, type it and have it ready by Monday as per usual! Thank you so much for the support! It means so much 🩷 okay bye enjoy I love you guys!

‘86 // Chapter Four: Take On Me

ROXIE’S POV

“Hey Harrington.” I crack a smile as Robin and I rush in. Steve, who’s talking to a female customer, sees us and mutters “Goddamit” before looking back at the customer. “Have a great day.” “You too, thank you.” They both smile at each other as she walks away. “Hey Rox, what’s up? How did Eddie like the cabin?” My smile grows lightly. “He loved it! His eyes lit up when he saw it. He was like a kid in a candy store. Thank you for the mattress by the way.” Steve nods. “Yeah, of course! I’m so happy he loved it… What did he give you?”

I eagerly take out the shirt from my bag when I start thinking about earlier. When I saw Eddie with Chrissy. Robin told me what had actually happened. They were arranging a drug deal. How could I be so stupid? How could I think Eddie would cheat on me? Steve notices my worried state. “Roxie, are you okay?” He asks looking at me concerned. “Earlier today, when we got back from the cabin, Robin and I saw him talking to fucking Chrissy Cunningham. According to Robin, it was to arrange a drug deal… But…” “You still feel maybe something was going on.”

I nod pathetically. “And that’s why we came to you two hours before Eddie’s campaign and the game to get advice.” Robin was irritated, tapping her wrist with an non-existent watch. “Shush Buckley the adults are talking.” Steve puts his hand on his hip and the other on the counter, looking like an actual overprotective mother. “So, you think there’s something going on? I can tell you right now, that boy loves you so much. I’m telling you, I don’t know how you do it, but he’s in love with you.”

I chuckle looking at the shirt on the counter. “You think so?” “Look, you may think I’m an asshole, but I know what I’m seeing.” I act like I don’t know what he’s talking about. “What are you talking about? I don’t think you’re an asshole Harrington…. You excited for awkward date number two?” I laugh as I catch him off guard looking pathetically at Robin. “BUCKLEY YOU TOLD HER?” He freaks out. “It’s fine Harrington… You just need to lay off the Farrah Fawcett spray too.” I joke even more. “Robin.” “Don’t look at me, that was Dustin’s tidbit.”

Robin joins me at my side of the counter. “And Steve, she’s my best friend. Of course I had to tell her how awkward it was.” Steve realizes I’m somewhat deflecting. “Okay, besides my awkward date, we’re talking about you and Munson.” We go back to business. “Listen Rox, Eddie loves you. You’re his ‘Cherry Bomb’. Or whatever term metalheads use.” I smirk looking at the shirt thinking of the year we had together. “He made me my own Hellfire Club shirt… I was thinking about wearing it tonight… Be his ‘Cherry Bomb’.” “Aren’t you his ‘Dungeon Mistress’?” Robin asks, messing with me. Steve is bewildered. “His what?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh…. You know how in campaigns, there’s a dungeon master? And Eddie’s the Dungeon Master?” I begin to explain to Steve, who’s just absolutely clueless. “I think I get it. You’re his female companion.” “Yes. Exactly! We need to hurry and get ready.” Robin freaks. “Hold up. Do you guys want me to take you? I’m meeting Brenda there anyway.” I consider it. “Yes. We’d greatly appreciate it. Just bring the hairspray. I may need it… also, red lipstick?” I ask the two, Robin perks up. “Eddie loves when you wear red lipstick.”

I begin to notice Steve grow uncomfortable. “He does go crazy when he sees me with red lipstick. Almost animalistic. Like feral-“ “Okay, we get it. He goes batshit crazy over how hot you look… and he’ll ravish you…” Robin and I look at Steve stunned. “Yeah… exactly…” Robin says looming at me. “Rox… I think we freaked Steve out.” I nod agreeing with her. “Yeah… I’m more concerned with how he called me hot.” “Yeah that was interesting.”

Steve chuckles anxiously. “I just meant he’s gonna combust at how hot you are. Show him who’s boss. Besides, you’re like a sister to me.” Shock goes through my body. “I’m like a sister to you huh?” I ask him. “Well yeah. We bicker, joke, act like brother and sister. And Dustin is like a little brother to me.” “Aw that’s sweet… I would’ve barfed if you actually called me hot.” I say making Robin laugh. “I still can’t believe you thought Robin liked you and she in fact…” I trail off into a whisper. “Likes boobies.” Robin cringes as Steve laughs.

“Don’t say that word. It’s so gross.” She groans. “Why? Vickie loves boobies. You like boobies. Harrington likes boobies. I like boobies. BOOBIES!” Steve’s eyes widened. “We are really like brother and sister.” “We have a ‘hive mind’ apparently.” “Let’s test it. Are you thinking about wearing those black boots?” “Yes actually. With a leather jacket too. It gets cold in there.” “Oh Eddie will warm you up so fast.” “Gotta show him who’s boss right?” “EXACTLY!”

“Look at you taking advice from Harrington.” Robin teases. “He does have good ideas… Steve, what about a black shirt?” Steve seems to like the idea. “Yeah, that works.” “See genius.” “Well, we’re gonna have to see ‘Genius’ in an hour so that we can get ready and you can fuck Eddie before the campaign starts.” Steve and I look at her astonished. “BUCKLEY!” “It’s not like y’all are playing patty cake. We’re teenagers with hormones.” “Eddie’s twenty.” I mention. “And he’s got raging hormones. LET’S GO!” Robin says as she grabs my arm and pulls me out. “See you in a few!” Steve yells in the distance.

#joseph quinn #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie x oc #eddie fic

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