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solarmorrigan · 6 months

Note

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #smallspaceplant #eddiesteve #listen Steve is u-haul lesbian flavored and Eddie is I know we're married but do you like me? lesbian flavored - you feel?#anyway I shouldn't be allowed to use tags on less than six hours of sleep!#answers from solar #solar wrote #hurt no comfort #edit: now with a continuation that will eventually include comfort

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ramen-flavored · 5 months

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I still refuse to believe he is dead

#Eddie Munson #joseph quinn #stranger things #st5 #stranger things s5 #stranger things season 5 #netflix #hellfire club #eddie munson x reader #steddie #stranger things behind the scenes #stranger things bts #st bts #ramen-flavored

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artiststarme · 7 months

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Picking Sides

When Steve and Eddie inevitably break up, the kids take Steve’s side. They blame Eddie completely and exile him from the Party. All of the kids start excluding Eddie from Party gatherings, belittling him when they see him in public, and outright glaring at him whenever he’s in their sights. They do so against Steve’s wishes and see their actions as protecting a friend.

So, Eddie is left alone, friendless, jobless, and depressed. Without the Party, Eddie has no one. I mean, he has his Uncle Wayne but the guy works far too often to have to deal with his needy little nephew on top of everything else. But he continues on. He mourns the loss of his relationship with Steve, the happiness he felt with the Party, and the sense of belonging that was so fleeting it couldn’t have possibly been real. The breakup was amicable between the two but the fallout with everyone else is anything but.

The Party’s mistreatment of Eddie is actually what gets the two back together. They decide that the reason for their mutual split, having different goals for the future and not wanting to disappoint each other later on, isn’t worth the hassle it created or the misery they both felt.

So, after being broken up for approximately two weeks, Steve and Eddie get back together. But they don’t disclose this to the Party. Oh no, instead they mail them a postcard and a picture of the two of them kissing in front of the ocean. Upon closer inspection, the kids could make out Robin in the background eating an ice cream cone. When the three of them come back a week after they disappeared, it’s to grumbled congratulations for the two and shouted words of worry (from Hopper).

Guys, I am working on the angst prompts! As soon as I made up my mind to be productive, my lungs tried to kill me via asthma flare-up. But it is coming!

My Permanent Tag List: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @ksherlock15 @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschildextra @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @gregre369 @mysticcrownshipper @disasterlia @lillys-weird-world @messrs-weasley @orangesunsets12 @awkotaco24 @pukner @strangerthingfanfic @dangdirtydemons @bookworm0690 @hannahhook7744 @dreamlandforever @marsbars97 @precursorandthedragon @romanticdestruction @5ammi90 @death-thee-nervousqueer @panicatthediaz @justforthedead89 @futuristicnachostranger @breadboi66 @fandommaniac123

#they had to take Robin with them because she lied on Steve’s hood until they said she could come #plus neither one had seen the ocean and they wanted to see it with their best friend #Robin actually ends up hating the picture they sent because in it she’s eating butterscotch ice cream #her least favorite flavor and one she often denies ever touching #stranger things #steddie #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley

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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months

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a man said the most eddie-coded thing about me that i genuinely cannot stop thinking about it days later but he doesn’t know that i know he said what he did

#my friend said i’ve got a special flavor of trauma from my childhood #and he immediately goes ‘i wanna know what it tastes like 😏’#i’m haunted #he met me twice and just alluded to eating my [redacted]#and i’d let him !#this is why i’ve been mia #him: don’t judge #the girls in question; not judging but losing their fucking minds #such casual rizz someone fucking sedate me #i also have a story time about how he paid for my (well mine and my best friends) dinner and it gave me BUTTERFLIES #anyways boys #be careful with what you tell her best friend #she’s loyal to me first 😤#i don’t think y’all wanna hear about my love life but this is the most exciting it’s been in a while #eddie munson would 100% joke about ‘tasting your trauma’ idc

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spectrum-spectre · 1 month

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honestly? I hc that Eddie and Steve are both vers AND switches

#i know literally nobody asked for my opinion but there it is #just putting it out there #like it opens up so many possibilities!!#also i like to imagine that eddie is the same flavor of audhd as me in that he would like. make a schedule for it 😂#like “okay Thursday i wanna go dom bottom...” 🤣#switch steve harrington #switch eddie munson #vers steve harrington #vers eddie munson

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genyasglockk · 2 years

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more fics about eddie being a huge fucking rockstar writing love songs about a guy he was in love with (**still in love with bc gay people don't know how to move on for some reason) back when he lived in the middle of buttfuck indiana meanwhile Steve is like a teacher or some shit who thinks about eddie longingly all the time like 'man i really missed my chance with him. the one that got away' then the power of fanfiction logic SMACKS them together and makes them kiss. also they're both in their 30's.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #ao3 #my last posy fit exactly into this flavor and it was GLORIOUS

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faithfullyscarred · 2 years

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stop being so good at writing you make me fall in love with eddie all over again bro T^T ♡

why should i?? eddie is so cute??? i want to give him kisses???? (ily zero💕)

thinking about sleepy eddie!

he’s a night owl, but he swears up and down that he just “never fucking sleeps”. on the weekends he crashes at like 5am and doesn’t wake up until 1pm. he literally takes hour long naps at least once a day, sometimes the naps would be longer. i think in part he’d stay up to get to talk to wayne if he had been working days, but also he’s just a hell beast. and you’re dead fucking wrong if you think he wouldn’t drag you into his shitty sleep schedule sometimes. and there would be times where his body would just be so done with him, his sleep pattern becoming too irregular. he’d be fighting for his life to stay awake, “i’m so not tired that i don’t even know—know what tired means. i mean, what hell do i look like? a toddler at nap time?” his eyes would hardly be open, he wouldn’t even be able to hold his head up anymore.

eddie would be so touchy when he was tired too, and i don’t know how intentional it would be. "can never get enough of you, y'know?" he would be pressed deeply into your side, one hand holding one of yours, the other hand continuously playing with your hair. you would be trying to convince him to just go the fuck to sleep, "ed, you can barely form sentences now, it's time to just sleep" which he would widen his eyes to prove he wasn't tired, "if you're tired you jus' say so, hmm?" and eddie would proceed to spend the next ten minutes that you're the one that was tired, "s'okay, you're so tired, sweetheart. lemme hold you, we'll sleep." this would be at 9pm by the way. and he absolutely would then entirely wrap his entire body around you, pinning you with your back against the bed with his torso. his lips lazily kiss your neck before he mumbles "night, sweetheart" and just clocks out trapping you there.

also thinking about lazy sex with eddie now

#i tried dried apricots today and i hated the experience #like why the fuck is the skin of it like that #good flavor tho so i ate them :)#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie stranger things #ask answered #cherrysabbath

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oscarwilderobbieross · 8 months

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who is out here putting duran duran on billy hargrove playlists? like,,, im doing research about the specific overlap and differences between eddie and billy (it’s a slow day at work sue me) and what makes the fandom morph some of their traits (or straight up swap up their traits for their specific vision)

billy is clearly an ac/dc, guns n roses, kiss guy

eddie listens to sabbath, judas priest, dio

steve is the duran duran enjoyer, obviously

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #billy hargrove #idk i think it’s interesting to dissect their specific flavors of music taste

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jadewritesficshere · 1 year

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18+only MDNI

Eddie had just pulled up to a red light when he heard a noise that was very evidentally not Dio. The beeping on his right caused Eddie to look over at the man riding in his passenger seat. Steve looked tense and his watch was going off. Eddie figured it was because a few minutes before he had slammed abruptly to avoid hitting a dog, throwing his arm out to protect Steve. The seatbelt did more to protect Steve then Eddie's arm did, but Eddie had kept his hand in Steve's space, eventually placing it on his knee. Eddie moved his hand from Steve's knee now,"You alright?" Steve startled at Eddie's words. "Huh? Yeah m'fine why?" Steve looked over at Eddie, face filled with confusion. Eddie cleared his throat and nodded at his watch," No reason..You got a message..one of your friends need ya?" Steve mumbled an oh and immediately started messing with his watch," Sorry about the noise...nah all is fine." Eddie nodded and focused back on driving.

This wasn't the first time Steve's watch had went off without Steve noticing. In fact, it was a very common occurrence. Steve never realized how loud it was as he had it turned down to the point he couldn't hear it anymore, but everyone else still could. Eddie watched as the kids gave him shit for it, but Eddie didn't care. He had been there the day Steve actually had his watch on silent. The day no one heard his watch go off. The day Steve missed getting texts and calls from the kids about an emergency. The look of panic on his face and the way he couldn't speak when Jane had ran into work and was crying. It all was fine, but Max had fallen off her skateboard and broken her wrist. The way Steve had felt so guilty and scared, Eddie didn't want him to have to go through that again. Eddie was fine with the noise of the watch. It was a little annoying, sure, but Eddie would rather get a lil annoyed from the noise then have Steve in pain.

Eddie would often just notify Steve his watch was going off. It seemed to be happening constantly now though, and Eddie couldn't help the envy he was feeling. He never had anyone text him first, he always had to start conversations. The only people who he had consistent conversations with and didn't always have to text first were Jeff, Gareth, Steve, and most surprisingly Robin (she sent him the best memes that made him cry from laughter). Hell, the time his phone was the most active was when he had been dealing and he hadn't done that for almost a year. Sure, maybe it was hard to text him because he either responded immediately or didn't respond for days on end... but Steve seemed to always have people texting him. Last week, they had been out to the diner and were eating milkshakes and sharing fries. Intermittently, his watch had went off all meal as they had laughed and joked around. Then this past weekend, Eddie was showing him a new song he wrote. Eddie could barely focus as the watch kept going off (not Steve's fault, but he kept wondering if Steve was just being nice and listening when he wanted to be elsewhere the way he kept messing with his watch).

Yesterday, everyone had been hanging out at Steve's. Everyone had been drinking, some weed was being passed around, it was just a good time. Robin was telling a story and half leaning against Steve; Steve had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Eddie should have been paying attention to Robin's story and how animated she was, talking with her hands and having everyone else laugh. But Eddie was thinking about how he wanted to be the one to lean against Steve. Eddie had rolled his eyes, knowing he needed to get his jealousy under control. He had sighed and looked down at his beer, wondering what it would feel like for Steve to lean right and wrap an arm around his shoulders. No! Steve was straight, he shouldn't think about Steve this way. Eddie had been glaring at his drink when Steve had tapped his knee. "You ok?" Steve looked concerned. Eddie had batted his eyes and went," Awh, you concerned for me Sweetheart?" Steve had just blinked at him and went to say something when his watch had went off, causing Robin to grab his arm and attempt to tap the watch (missing terribly because she was drunk). Steve had jerked away and fumbled with his watch before standing up and leaving the room. Eddie frowned as obviously whoever texted him was more important then hanging out.

Eddie scowled at the memory, pulling into Steve's driveway. He knew he needed to get his jealousy under control. Deep down, Eddie knew he didn't care that Steve had more friends then him. It was the fact that Steve would always divert his attention. That Steve would always make faces or be awkward after silencing his phone. Fuck, maybe he was joking about Eddie? Talking shit behind his back? He was King Ste- no. Steve isn't like that anymore.

"You okay?" Steve asks hesitantly. Eddie hadn't even realized Steve had left the car and had opened Eddie's door. "Just peachy," Eddie rolls his eyes. Steve's brow furrowed slightly and Eddie exhaled a deep sigh. "I think I'm just gonna go," Eddie looked down at the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching his fists around it. "What? We were gonna watch that movie you've been talking about," Steve shakes his head, "literal weeks you've been talking about it man." Eddie isn't sure why he's so upset; he knows he got in his own head, he can't even remember the drive here. Eddie feels a burn deep in his chest, he almost feels like he could cry. "Eddie?" Steve gently rests his hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Its fine! Just go hangout with your other friends or whatever," Eddie blurts out. He knows he isn't even really thinking, having worked himself up into a frenzy.

"Huh? What other friends?" Steve asks as Eddie brushes Steve's hand off. Eddie glances at Steve and has to look away at the hurt look on his face. "The ones who keep texting you." Eddie sighs. He shouldn't take this out on Steve. Steve hasn't done anything wrong. "No one's texting me?" Nope okay Steve has done something wrong. Eddie's head snaps to look at Steve's so quickly Eddie is pretty sure he gave himself whiplash," You're a liar and a thief Steve! A liar! I hear your watch go off all the time. I know I'm dumb, can't even graduate fucking high school, but I'm not that dumb!" Eddie is breathing hard as he stares into Steve's eyes. Steve looks as uncomfortable as he feels- which Eddie feels is pretty justified as really this was all Steve's-

"It's my heart rate."

-fault really, none of this was Eddie's fault and wait. Eddie blinks at Steve," what?" Eddie has never seen Steve blush. Get flustered? Sure. Embarrassed? Maybe once. But Steve's face has flushed red. "It's my heart rate...when it gets too high it alerts me." "Why?" "I dont know it was a setting and I don't know how to turn it off an-" "no, why is your heart rate going so high?" "...seriously?"

Eddie feels more dumb than ever as Steve gives him a look that he knows is Steve's are you shitting me right now? Look. "Yeah?" Eddie wishes his voice didn't break right then, he sounds as pathetic as he feels. Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair. "Seriously? Dude c'mon, don't make me say it!" Steve's blush spreads from his face down his neck. Eddie can't help but trace it with his eyes, wondering how far it spreads. The silence between them grows. "So uh you gonna tell me or-" "It's you!" Eddie pulls back at Steve's exclamation. "What did I do?"

Steve glares at Eddie. "What did you do? What did you do??" Steve throws his arms in the air and stalks away from the vehicle. Eddie scrambles trying to leave the van and getting caught by his seat belt. "Shit," he unbuckles and runs after Steve," Steve wait! I didn't do anything!" Steve turns on his heel and points a finger in his face," You didn't do anything? You flirt with me constantly!" Eddie winces as the realization hits, Steve has been uncomfortable this entire time.

They both open their mouths and start to speak over each other, "Steve, I'm sorry I didn't realize you were-" "Flirting with me making me fall for you and you have the audacity to-" "-so uncomfortable I just couldnt help it you're so attractive-" "- act like nothing is happening? I fell for you and you-"

Eddie and Steve both stop speaking and stare at each other. The air seemed thick around them. "I wasn't uncomfortable." Steve drops his hand. "Did you just say you fell for me?" Eddie blinked, mouth falling open. Steve looks away and nods slowly. "Holy shit..." "That's all you can say?" "Give me a minute i just found out my crush likes me!" "...you didn't know?"

Eddie chuckles slightly before shaking his head."I'm dumb remember?" Steve scowls at his words," You aren't dumb quit saying that." Eddie gently cups Steve's face with his hand," This okay?" "Yeah..." Eddie leans in slowly, letting his lips hover in front of Steve's. Before he can ask if it is okay to kiss him, Steve leans forward and their mouths meet. Eddie's eyes flutter closed as their lips slowly move in tandem. Steve grabs Eddie's hips and yanks him closer, making him gasp. Steve takes the opportunity and licks into Eddie's mouth. Their tongues intertwine, and Eddie is pretty sure this is his new favorite flavor. Steve pulls away to catch his breath and Eddie leans forward, kissing his cheek and trailing kisses down his neck. He kisses Steve's pulse and hears Steve gasp. "You like that?" He asks as he nips at Steve's neck. A beeping noise reaches Eddie's ears causing him to laugh. Eddie isn't jealous about that noise anymore. In fact, it may be his favorite noise in the world.

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ramen-flavored · 1 month

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some of yall wanna know qualifiers, the fighters have whatever weapons/skills the character is known to have

Ex: Geralt has his swords/potions, Bucky has his knives/guns, Bruce has his Batgear, etc.

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eddiemunsonstrojans · 2 years

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reminding you once again that eddie doesn't have a headboard, but he does have waist chain handcuffs.

and you're boring if you know this but ignore it in favor of the basic headboard scenario.

#thank you for coming to my ed talk #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #i am going to continue to be annoying about this.#realistically the cuffs are there as a fashion accessory. similar to a belt chain.#but if you want to be spicy with it at least know what the flavor of spice is damn

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discountscoobyart · 1 year

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DARK ACADEMIA AU STEDDIE??? SPEAK???????

well hello there!!

okay, so this kind of started as a dead poets society au but shifted into something else-

basically, eddie and steve attend a boarding school. steve because his dad went there before and thinks it's the best for his son, and eddie attends on a scholarship.

steve is the golden boy, because of his connections, and because he's a jock at the end of the day. meanwhile eddie struggles with conforming to the rules but is very passionate about writing, literature and drama

eventually, steve has to participate in the drama club to raise his grades and get some extracurricular that isn't (insert pretentious sport here)

they meet and the chemistry is off the charts and maybe they happen to kiss one night, who knows

for a while they have to keep everything on the down low, because of homophobia or because steve's status whatever- we're talking secret make out sessions in the closet and such

and they both think the other one is just using them to let off some steam, because life is hard and sometimes you need to make out with a hot person to deal

so they pine and they yearn and have a full secret relationship until eventually they confess and BOOM

happy gay people in sweater vests!!

#and eddie basically had a crush on steve before all of this even started because it's my fav flavor of steddie lmao #pls talk to me about this i love this au so much #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #ask

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curiositydooropened · 2 years

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Cherry Flavored Summer [Chapter One] ☀

The summer of '85 is as hot and sticky as any other, but when Eddie runs into you on his shift at Big Buy, he thinks this year might be his year. Set during season 3.

Pairing: Eddie x femme punk!reader

Wordcount: 8048

Warnings: eventual smut [under 18 DNI please!], drug use, mentions of prison, death, knives, guns, canon typical violence

No Tag List, please follow my library!

Masterlist • Library • Ao3

Chapter Two

Tuesday, June 25th, 1985

The stockroom at Bradley’s Big Buy was hotter than hell. That sweltering, mid-summer heat that clung shirts to backs and curled the hair at the base of necks, and everything in the air wreaked of sweat and that particular static in the air before an electrical storm. The five big box fans had been reduced to one, Robert was worried about blowing the generator, a low hum beneath the grunts and groans of the stock team unloading the weekly shipment. Hot dog buns and crates of ketchup bottles and bags of chips being slung between strong, clammy hands.

The second the truck pulled away, Eddie had slumped himself on a spare crate in the shade and lit a cigarette, hands shaking from heat exhaustion and hard work, and he needed something to take the edge off. His hands left salty sweat on his lips and around the butt, and his mouth filled with hot smoke and that familiar buzz of nicotine. Three puffs in, and his name called from the loading dock rippled a shudder down his spine.

He turned over one shoulder to see Robert, clipboard in hand, waving Eddie over.

Eddie waved his cigarette in return, tempted to tell the manager to fuck right off, and that he was entitled to a smoke break. Even if he’d just had one an hour earlier.

“Gladys is on her break,” Robert huffed. “And I need someone in freezers. People are getting a little too handsy with the popsicles.”

Well, he said the magic word. Eddie stamped his cigarette into the concrete and hoisted himself up the side of the building to the loading dock above, wiping grimy hands against the khaki of his uniform bottoms. Robert grimaced at the stains left behind. “Need me to fight off the crowds?” Eddie grinned.

“Just make sure to keep an eye out for those kids again. We can’t afford another hundred dollars in lost products.” The manager tutted, and Eddie offered a hand-to-forehead salute and pushed past him toward the reprieve of the refrigerated aisles.

Jesus, there was really nothing like it, the smooth chill of air conditioning and frosted glass beneath his fingertips. On slower nights, when spring had just turned to summer and the sun was setting later, heating the pavement and lighting the front windows in deep golds, Eddie would wander to the fridges and stick his face in, just to feel the sting of cold air on his lungs. He’d palm the frozen peas and press cold fingers to the back of his neck beneath his grown out hair. And if it was really, really slow, and if Robert had gone home early, he’d tuck himself into the corner that provided a blindspot from the security cameras, and he’d indulge in a stolen popsicle or two. Cherry or orange only, couldn’t risk dying his tongue for the cashiers and bag boy to see.

This particular Tuesday afternoon in June, the freezer section was hopping. An abundance of chaos in the form of frantic suburban housewives and their tantrum-throwing kids. They were shoving TV dinner after Eggo box into their carts and pushing around other customers who were just there for that same pea-palming reprieve. Eddie actually stumbled into the frozen pizza section to find a robust woman cooling her tits against a Meat Lovers box, and when they made eye contact, she seemed too relieved with the cold to care that she’d been caught.

He made a half-nod and shuffled around the corner for the ice cream to pull stock forward and keep an eye on those popsicles and any shit kids that might be about. He made a mental note to shove a couple of cherries in the back for later.

Fifteen minutes -and ten blissfully numb fingers- later, the rush had died down. He glanced at his watch, digital numbers frosted a bit around the edges, and let out an exhale of relief. Only about a half hour left on the clock, and he was free to head down to the Hideout to meet the boys. He slowed his shuffle a little, hoping to spend the last of his shift in refrigerator bliss.

Three pints of Rocky Road in, a groaned “fuuuuuuck” from down the aisle caught his attention, and he turned on his heel to find the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. Combat boots in June, black jean cut-offs and fishnet stockings, a black t-shirt hand-cut and hand-tied up the ribcage, exposing smooth skin beneath, a mop of hair. You stood in front of an opened cooler door, bright blue basket discarded at your left side as you craned your neck to stare up at the very back of the top shelf.

Rocking up on the balls of your feet, you extended every line of your body upward and into the freezer. Calves curled into meaty thighs, and the fabric of your shirt rose up, knots in your sides exposing the curve of your breasts against the frosted shelves before you.

Eddie’s mouth went dry. Not like he was stoned, but like he was parched for words, unable to think around the buzzing in his skull and the rush of blood pumping through his heart to his extremities. He took a languid step toward you, his sneakers acting before the thoughts telephoned in, and the sealing of his freezer door startled you back on both heels. You made eye contact, your brows furrowed in frustration over thickly lined eyes.

“Hey,” you nodded.

“H-hey, hi,” Eddie scuffed at a skid mark on the linoleum.

“Think you can help me?”

His sneakers move of their own volition again, squeaking against the ground as he stumbled your direction. “Ye-yes. Um… yeah.” Jesus, what was wrong with him? Words, Munson. Words.

You cocked a singular brow and stepped out of the way, holding the cooler door open. “I need that last tub of USS Butterscotch.”

You were between him and the ice cream now, and twice as beautiful up close, all raccoon eyed. From this angle, he could make out the sweat sticking your hair to your temples, the mascara smudged near your brow bone. You wore a studded leather bracelet and a chain dipped below the sliced v in your neckline, and Eddie struggled to swallow the saliva pouring back into his mouth as he trailed the silver on your skin.

You cleared your throat, and in a panic, he lunged forward and reached out for the tub of ice cream you’d requested.

That Scoops Ahoy bullshit was leaving the store in droves, ever since the mall opened. Something about cheap residents not wanting to pay ridiculous prices for a cone, but they can’t get enough of that sweet, soft goodness.

This particular tub must have been out of reach for a while. The sides had begun to crystalize, paper top lined with a layer of ice over the label. “Shit, this one’s kind of old. We might get some in our shipment tomorrow.” He offered, finally his mouth caught up with his panicked brain, or vice versa.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not for me. If the kid gets sick and dies, it’s her own damn fault,” you huffed, ruffling thin fingers through your hair. You scent, damp and leather and shampoo, maybe a hint of cherry lipgloss, wafted into the air.

He turned to face you, cooler frosting his backside, chest and face heated at the proximity, and he watched in slow agony as you bent to pick up your discarded basket, the v-neck of your t-shirt dipping just-so, giving him a wider view of the curvature of your skin and the pendant on your necklace, and he rushed two, three, five feet away from you.

“Hey, I said the old one’s fine!” You called, taking a few steps toward him.

He stared down at the tub in a vice grip and licked his lips, nodding. “Yeah, sorry. I have to walk it to the register for you.”

“What, why?”

He swallowed. Shit, yeah, why? “Uh…” He looked down the aisle, anywhere but your approaching figure and the upset hem of your shirt. His eyes settled on the security camera in the corner, just above the blindspot. “We have a theft problem.”

You scoffed, rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, I’m not going to steal a tub of ice cream.”

“No,” he shook his head, cradling the tub in his arm. Anything to keep his core temperature down. “Not you. This shit is popular. I’m not having you get mugged between here and check out.”

You cocked another eyebrow at that. “You think someone, between here and check out, is going to mug me for a tub of USS Butterscotch?”

He couldn’t help but smile at that. You were right. He was being absolutely ridiculous, panicked, flustered. He hadn’t felt this way in years, not since Chrissy Cunningham told him his band was cool at the middle school talent show. And that was Queen fucking Chrissy, prissy Chrissy, goodie-two-shoes Chrissy in her pastels with a bow on top. She had nothing on you.

He allowed himself to rake your frame one last time, boots to hips to clavicle, and flushed when he met your irritated gaze. “Yeah, these suburban moms can get crafty. Last week, I saw a lady knife someone for the last bag of everything bagels.”

You snorted at that, and your glossy lips upturned ever-so-slightly, but you ultimately narrowed your eyes into black-rimmed slits and sighed. “Fine.”

Eddie grinned. “You done shopping?” He glanced into your basket, cheese puffs, pizza rolls, a 2-liter of Coke, a magazine, face-down exposing a perfume ad with a leggy blonde.

You tucked your basket into your chest to stop his snooping and nodded, pointing toward check out. “Yes. Let’s be quick about this. I have shit to do.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiled, stepping in line beside you to make small strides toward check out. He could feel the crystals melting against his arm where his t-shirt dampened and his fingers tingled. “You must not be from around here then. Or you’d know that there’s nothing to do in Hawkins.”

You ignored his comment, tossing a bag of gummy bears into your basket from an end cap.

“You come in for the new mall?” He tried again, ducking his head to catch your gaze.

You narrowed your eyes. “No. Everyone in Hawkins this chatty?”

He grinned at that, nodding, hair shaggy in his eyes. “Just the knife-wielding ones.”

It was much warmer by the registers, the fan above the automatic doors just blowing the heat inward. Brenda was on her shift, wavering on her feet at the register, popping gum between bright red lips. You hauled your basket up and onto the conveyor belt. He deposited your ice cream.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“I know.” You sighed, picking double mint gum off the stand.

“You’ve heard of me?” He smiled at that, wracking his brain for who you were. He knew he’d never seen you before. There was no way he’d forget those legs, those eyes, the dip of your nose.

You turned to him then and tapped black fingernails against the metal nameplate on his chest.

He sucked in his cheeks at that and nodded. “Right, well…”

“Well,” you tutted. “Thank you, Eddie, for protecting me from ice cream thieves, but I think,” you squinted at the cashier in front of you, “Brenda can take it from here. You are carrying a knife, aren’t you Brenda?”

Brenda stared back at you like you were something that slithered through her front door and into her happy space, and Eddie’s stomach skipped at the thought of that.

You took her nonresponse as an answer and whipped some cash out of your wallet. “Oh weird, hoped it might be company policy. Guess you never know when a creep’s going to follow you around the grocery store.”

Brenda took the cash with long fingernails and found you the correct change while you tossed your goods into a paper bag.

“Don’t worry,” you flashed him a wry smile, just over the brown paper. “Eddie will protect you.”

“Who?” Brenda scoffed, and you laughed at that, a loud, guffaw of a laugh that punctured right through his skull and radiated down his body.

You gave him a nod of goodbye and stepped out into the fading sunlight, a halo of honeyed sunshine sucking you into its radiant glow.

Eddie cursed and leaned against the register, running a hand over his face, fingers still wet from the outside of your ice cream tub.

“You’re carrying a knife? I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed.” Brenda scoffed from beside him, but he was too happy to protest, instead pushing off her conveyor belt with a friendly smile and a bow as he slipped back down to the freezer aisle to retrieve his cherry popsicle. He’d think of you while he ate it, the smell of your lipgloss, and the ice in your stare.

—

Your cousin’s house smelled like melted Legos and burned hair, that acrid hot of too small a house with the oven turned on in the heat of summer. The kind of heat that prickled goosebumps of relief throughout your body the moment you opened her freezer to drop in the ice cream.

“Remind me why I’m staying with you in this Hell-hole.” You shouted across the house to where your cousin, Kelly, was getting ready in the back bedroom.

She exited her room, pulling a worn tank top over her head and shrugged. “Because your parents kicked you out and you have nowhere else to go rent free?”

You collapsed into the nearest barstool with a sigh. She was right. Your parents booted you, reminding you that you were an adult, and if you weren’t interested into adhering to their standards of music and dress code, you could figure it out on your own. So naturally, cousin Kelly in Hawkins, Indiana was your only option. You loved Kelly. She was only a couple of years older, and she was a tough broad, not afraid of anything, a real Midwesterner. And you knew she’d offer you room and board as long as you pitched in every once in a while for groceries.

“You going like that?” She scoffed, picking at the shoulder seam of your handmade top.

“What’s wrong with this?” You asked, peeling the thin fabric from the sweat of your lower back. You grimaced. “Okay, maybe I will change.”

The doorbell rang from the front room, and Kelly waved you off to answer it. “Hurry up, my shift starts in ten.”

With a sigh, you heard her greet the babysitter, Vickie, and as you walked toward the guest bedroom, Kelly’s little tyke, Josie, scuttled past you with a squea of excitement. Josie was nearly five, and sassy as all Hell. It actually made you proud, the amount of shit that kid gave you. She ran in screaming Vickie’s name, clutching a Barbie in one hand and a hair brush in the other.

You laughed, shook your head, and weighed a few shirt options from your open suitcase on the guest room floor. Kelly invited you to work with her, claiming that Tuesday nights were fun because there was a live band that was “your style” whatever the hell that meant. You were always weary of the phrase, knowing that there was no way you’d be interested in a live band from Hawkins, but you wanted to support Kelly, and you supposed you should get out of the house now before you were sick of it, see what this podunk town had to offer.

Sliding your shoulders through a leather vest, you heard your name called from across the house, and you rushed your snap buttons and stomped across the house to meet your screeching cousin. Josie sat in the lap of a red headed girl with a huge eyes and an incredibly startled look on her face. You offered a soft smile and wave.

“That’s my cousin,” Josie pointed out, carding her fingers through Barbie’s hair while the babysitter worked through the girl’s. “She doesn’t conform.” She said with a shrug, as though that were a completely normal thing for a kid to say.

You grinned and ruffled Barbie’s hair.

“Hey!”

“Vickie,” Kelly interrupted. “You know the drill. We’ll be back around 1.” And before you or Josie could protest further, she was grabbing you by the forearm and yanking you out the door.

Hawkins really was podunk. You noticed it on your way in, and now, driving through the little downtown streets with the windows rolled down, everything smelled of cow shit and iron and that tang of electricity in the air. The clouds had settled in, that rich grey-green, and seemingly everyone had tucked in for the night.

As you approached the Hideout, the bar your cousin tended, you noticed a handful of bikes outside, a station wagon, and a faded brown van parked in the alleyway next door. You cranked up the window and stepped out onto the sidewalk, following the line of bikes past the gaggle of smokers out front and into the small town bar.

It was surprisingly busy, for a Tuesday, mostly old men. Two old ladies played pool in biker attire, sipping cold ones that dripped condensation onto the felt below. You heard the familiar tune up of guitars in the back corner, and peered around a few heads to see a group of musicians huddled around a drum set. They all wore leather jackets, despite the broiling heat.

“Want a coke?” Kelly offered, sidling up behind the bar and getting started on a few drinks for the regulars that greeted as she entered.

“A beer?” You offered with a smile.

Your cousin made a face and nodded across the bar to a booth with a handful of men sharing beers. The largest wore a Tom Selleck mustache and a tired look on his face. You frowned back at Kelly.

“That’s the chief of police, Hopper. There’s no way in hell I’m serving you beer in here, lady.”

You sighed and nodded. “Coke please.” And twisted round in your seat to people watch a little more. You were curious about the band, and tilted your head past the pool players to see a surprisingly familiar face.

On lead guitar, stepping up to his position to start their little gig, was the long haired, puppy-dog-eyed Eddie from the grocery store. You barely recognized him, long hair shoved under a skull-print bandana, khakis and blue polo swapped for black jean shorts, cropped just above knobby knees, and an Iron Maiden t-shirt, sleeves torn to expose the sinewed arms of a guitarist. But the moment he turned his head to the crowd, cast his eyes toward the bar, you saw the look of recognition flash across his face, the subtle upturn of those plump lips, and he offered you a nod in greeting.

You nodded back, cool and calm, as you turned back to face the bar. You spotted his gaze in the bar-back mirror, unable to escape it. You rolled your eyes and bit back a treacherous smile, an odd buzz kicking at your chest.

Kelly slid you a red plastic cup, full to the brim with ice and fizzy cola. You tapped your fingers anxiously against the bubbled texture. This wasn’t how your summer was supposed to go. You were supposed to go it alone, be independent. And you promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for another God Damn metal head who didn’t know his ass from his elbow, and sure as Hell couldn’t find the clit.

“You good? Want fries or something?” Kelly asked, eyebrows etched in worry.

Your first instinct was to ask a question about him, Eddie from the grocery store, Eddie the guitarist, but you rethought it, knew Kelly would just give you shit. So instead, you tossed a straw into your drink, watched it bob, and nodded. “Fries sound great.”

Then the music started. A skull pounding reverb of distortion via an amp way too close to the back wall. The customers around you started to whoop and holler. The women playing pool through their sticks into the air. Even Kelly had begun to nod her head along. You reached for her wrist to pull her in before shouting into her ear. “For future reference, this is not my vibe.” To which she grinned and rolled her eyes.

Their set went on too long, a series of metal covers that might have been decent had the lead singer not been wearing braces and slobbering over his mic. But as the chief of police slunk out, and a handful of blue collar men staggered to follow, you found yourself watching Grocery Boy shred.

Shoulder length curls bounced and bobbed with each beat, heavily ringed fingers trailing up and down the fretboard, frantic adlibs at each solo, a refreshing difference from the radio hits. Something about the musicality sent a surge of electricity through you. His exposed biceps began to glisten with sweat, and he spent a lot of time with his tongue stuck between his lips in concentration. Occasionally, he’d peak up from under the mop of hair, and catch you watching with that mischievous smile.

After which, you’d kick yourself and turn back to your diminishing plate of fries and third refill of Coke, the caffeine and sugar starting to tingle your fingertips, prickle the hair at the back of your neck. You’d risk a glance at that dirty mirror again, and there he’d be, watching you, image distorted in liquor bottles.

You found yourself wondering just how this would go. Clearly Hawkins was small enough that you’d run into him constantly. It wasn’t like you couldn’t go grocery shopping. You needed food to survive, after all. But outside of that, could you really go the entire summer avoiding this boy? Hiding from that urge to see what else those ringed fingers could do. You squeezed your thighs together and cursed.

When the set finished, the dwindled crowd cheered, and the band, Corroded Coffin - you gagged - thanked them and went about tearing down their set. And then, to your absolute horror, Grocery Store Eddie made a B-line for the bar, long hair flowing around his smile.

In a panic, you slurped down the last few bubbles melting into your ice cubes. He sidled up beside you, sliding a wad of cash across the sticky countertop. He smelled of sweat and body spray deodorant and vaguely of cherry, and you slammed your jaw so tight you tore skin in your cheek.

“Hey, Kelly,” he greeted from beside you, and you shrunk into yourself, mortified that he knew your cousin by first name.

“Hey, Eds, great job tonight. You guys sticking around for drinks?” Panic rose in your chest.

“Nah, sounds like the guys have early shifts tomorrow.” Thank God.

Kelly pocketed the cash, her cut of their tips, and passed you a glance. Your face must have read like panic, because the corners of her lips turned up in a cruel smirk, and you started to shake your head as she made to introduce you. “Eddie, I’d like you to meet my cousin-“

“Hey!” You shouted before your name could pass through her vocal chords. You shook your hands in the air like a lunatic, and she blinked back at you, biting back a laugh. “Don’t go around telling my name to strangers!” You scolded.

Kelly seemed mildly taken aback by your rudeness until Eddie jumped in with an explanation.

“We met earlier at Big Buy.”

“Did you know he carries knives? Around a grocery store?”

Kelly raised her brows.

“Well, I do have a reputation to maintain.”

You turned to him then, too close, elbows on the edge of the bar, brown eyes upturned like a lost calf, and he smiled. His voice got real low. “You enjoy the show.”

You shrugged. “Not really my vibe.”

He grinned at that. All teeth and shaken head. “Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be.” He reached into his pocket for a lighter and a pack of smokes. “Do you partake?”

You glanced up to where your cousin had been standing to find the spot vacant. She’d taken off around the room to catch up on the rounds, leaving the two of you alone. That traitor. You swallowed and turned back to Eddie, shaking your head. “That shit’ll give you cancer.”

He smiled at that, tucking a cigarette behind his ear. “Well, I’ve got harder shit if you’re really looking to party.”

Your chest fluttered at that. Something about the way he said it, so enticing, this post-show glow a different man than the stammering one who reached into the freezer for you. He was so confident, so blissed out on his own ego.

“Eddie!” His bandmate shouted, the drummer. Jesus, that kid looked young. “You ready?”

Eddie waved him off but kept his eyes on you. Oh. He was really asking.

You swallowed and watched the way he licked the corners of his pink lips, watched the way he watched you. With a sigh, you leaned across the counter for a pen before holding your hand out for his. He gave it willingly. His fingers were tinged pink, the tips bumped with callouses that made you salivate. His rings were cold against your palm. You glanced up at him once more through your lashes. “You work tomorrow?”

He nodded, failing at masking an accomplished smile. “Til six.”

You tutted, scribbling the letters of your first name into the rough terrain of his palm. The ball point smudged over cracks, so you traced the lines to make them more legible. “I’ll see you then.”

—

Eddie spent the rest of the night staring at his right hand, thinking up perfect rhymes to the beat of rain against the tin roof.

His shower the following morning felt like mutiny. He considered washing with his left, holding his right out of the curtain to keep the scratch and scribbled writing, but the letters had already bled from a humid night’s sleep. So he scrubbed with soap and considered a tattoo right above his heart. All the little letters of your name, surrounded by a big ole heart with a dagger stabbed through it. Just where his pick met his sternum. He grinned at the look of incredulity on your face if he showed it to you, and leaned back to rinse shampoo from his eyes.

His shift at Big Buy was torturous. It was just as sweltering, if not moreso, but they received a shipment of frozen goods, so time spent in the truck was a pleasant reprieve from the outside. That didn’t stop his face from heating anytime he thought of you and those mile-high legs, your heavy lidded eyes watching him play guitar, toying with that straw between glossy lips.

He nearly lost it in the staff huddle in aisle 5. There had been a knock-over of soup cans on display, and everyone had been paged to report there for immediate pick up. And as Robert watched them all shuffling cans into the hems of their polos, Brenda asked if they were allowed to bring knives to work. She popped her bubblegum and glared at Eddie’s returning grin.

He was in the back office at five minutes til six, peeling the polo from his back and over his head. He reached into a locker for his favorite Dio shirt and slipped that on instead. He jammed his timecard in the clock a minute too early, impatience taking over, and he gave himself a once over in a tiny cupboard mirror, slicking his eyebrows down with a wet pinky and thumb.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t running almost literally into you in the refrigerated section. Your hair was all up and pulled off your long neck, and you wore a black and white polka dot dress that blew up around your thighs with each wave of conditioned air. His sneakers scuffed the ground in a halt, and you stared back at him with tired eyes, the liner smudged at the corners again in sweat and exhaustion.

“Please tell me you have air conditioning in your car,” you huffed as a greeting.

Eddie grinned and glanced up at the west facing security camera. “You like cherry popsicles?”

Jesus, you looked delicious in the passenger’s seat of his van. You had one leg up, boot to the dash, and the other was curled up under you. The hem of your skirt rode dangerously high on your thighs. One arm slung out the window, letting the air flow ripple your limp limb. Your head was thrown back against the seat, hot and bored, and you were slurping the remnants of your popsicle with sinful sounds.

Eddie watched with a dry mouth as the red object went in and out, against your tongue, and his knuckles went white on the steering wheel. “So…” He cleared his throat. “What did you want to do?”

You shrugged, licking the last drops of syrupy goodness from red-stained stick, and set your garbage neatly into an empty cup holder. “I don’t know. This is your town. What is there to do?”

Eddie could think about fifty things he’d love to do right now, none of which were family friendly, so instead he pulled into a shady patch of parking lot near the entrance of downtown, and he craned to look over the steering wheel at the town sprawling around them. Jesus, there really was nothing to do in Hawkins.

The stores downtown were all running out of business, thanks to the mall. He sighed, scrubbed some sweat from his eyes. “There’s the mall, I guess? We could go to a movie?”

You hummed. “Pass. I have a mall and a movie theater where I’m from. Isn’t there anything exciting? Something very… Hawkins?”

Once again, he tried to conjure something up. He thought of nights with his friends, always spent in basements tossing dice or in garages rehearsing for their gigs. Neither of which activity was ideal for a first date, if that’s even what this was. He glanced back at you, licking the cherry flavoring from the corner of his lips. You were watching him with heavy lidded eyes, fanning the sweat from your neck with your hand.

The truth was, Eddie had never officially been on any dates, not in any real sense of the word. He’d taken a few girls to prom. He’d gone to a few movies. Mostly, he took girls to various popular hook up spots to smoke weed and get some. Skull Rock, Sattler’s Quarry, that little shed behind the local pool. All of those places felt cheap now, dirty, not worthy of your… presence, your being.

“Too hot for cow tipping,” you groaned, as though that were an option that you were looking forward to but the weather had spoiled your plans.

He snorted, wrapped his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of something to quiet for clarity on his radio. No, there weren’t too many cows to tip in this weather, all of them called back to the shade of their barns for the evening. But maybe… He turned his body to face you.

“Okay, so there was like this huge chemical leak in town last year, like around Halloween. And there were a ton of cave-ins. And the government came in to like… I don’t know cover it all up? And they filled in all of these underground tunnels.”

You nodded and slipped your leg from the dash to lean against the door. “Oh yeah, I think I remember hearing about that on the news.”

He nodded, chuckled. “Yes, Hawkins’s claim to fame. Anyway, one of the tunnels was like.. crudely patched up.”

“And you want to take me there and murder me?”

Eddie’s face flushed at the comment, but when he looked up from his hands, you were smirking, leaning forward on the console. That chain around your neck dangled precariously again, and if he followed the line of it, he could peer down once more at the swell of your breasts beneath your dress. “Murder isn’t exactly what I had in mind…” He mumbled.

“And what exactly did you have in mind?” Your nimble finger met his chin and pulled his gaze back to your own. Your eyes sparkled bright in contrast to the dark eyeliner, and the rim of your lips was stained a deep, cherry pink.

He shrugged, but didn’t pull away. “Oh you know, what all kids do in abandoned tunnels. Thought we might tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets, smoke a j, and become blood brothers.”

“Oooh, perfect!” You exclaimed at that, breaking the string of tension between you. “I brought a knife!” And sure as shit, you procured a pocket knife, red handled and the perfect size to fit in your soft hands. You flipped it open and mimed a few artful jabs.

Eddie burst into laughter. “Where have you been hiding that?” He clutched at his side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“God, and people call me the Freak.”

“Do they?”

Your smile was fond, proud of yourself for calling back your new inside joke, your first one, really, and he hoped for many more. But he couldn’t help but bristle at the nickname. He thought he’d let it roll of his shoulders, embraced it, but there was something so vulnerable now about you knowing this information. You were brand new. He could have presented himself to you anyway he wanted, and somehow the truth of Hawkins and his life was spilling out of his mouth before he could change his mind. He shrugged, nodded, adjusted in his seat until his hands were back on the wheel.

“Well, Freak,” you shifted in your seat as well, and pointed out the windshield with a dramatic wave of your pocket knife. “To the murder tunnels!”

Maybe this was a bad idea.

He pulled over off of Curly, tucked his van into the trees just off the shoulder, and you helped to crank your window up. He grabbed the tin lunchbox from behind the passenger’s seat, and ran around to help you out with a chivalrous hand. The farther south you went, the thicker the woods, and the thicker the woods, the larger the undergrowth. And he found himself consistently helping to lift you over fallen logs.

Everything around was dead. That chemical leak sure did a number on the woods. And although the government had reassured Hawkins citizens that the leak was contained, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if taking you out here was a death sentence. I mean, you already told him you didn’t smoke because it gave you cancer. God knows what the hell else was lurking on this side of town.

But just on the edge of the woods, where clearings turned to corn fields in the later summer months, a hole opened up in the ground about the size of a small car. Beer bottles and chip bags lay strewn around the opening, which proved that they weren’t the only teenagers to wander down here to take a peak. And soon, the two of you were standing over it, looking down.

You had your hand tucked to your side like a chicken wing, and Eddie couldn’t tell from your expression whether or not you were impressed. Until you extended your other hand to him and instructed, “lower me down.”

“What?” Eddie frowned, looking from your hand to the hole and back.

“I wanna see what’s inside, but I need your help.”

“What if we can’t get back up?” He asked.

You seemed to pause at that, weighing your options, before finally settling on a resolute, “then we’ll huddle for warmth and wait until this weekend when teenagers will inevitably find us and haul us up.” You kicked at an empty can, and it shucked itself in the hole, making a rattle against the stone or concrete below.

The huddle for warmth part sounded promising, but Eddie was keen on hanging out in a mysterious chemical leak hole for multiple days without food or water.

“Fine,” you sighed, apparently frustrated with his indecision, and you squatted and shuffled yourself onto your stomach. “Hold onto my legs.”

And before Eddie was on his own ass, chasing down your calves, you’d crawled to the edge to peak your head through. You’d actually managed your entire upper half before he’d caught up with you and grasped at the meat of your thighs to keep you from toppling, headfirst into the pit.

You laughed, a wonderful melodious sound that echoed off the walls around you. “I can’t see a damn thing.” And then your arms were flailing backwards into his. “Help me up.”

With a bit of struggle, he managed to right you, and you adjusted your dress and your necklace and pulled straw from your hair, and he kept you in balance with a leg anchored on either side of your own, his hands resting softly on the skin of your thighs. If he flexed his fingers, he could catch the flowing hem of your dress. He didn’t dare let his eyes follow the lines of you, instead stayed lock on your eyes, and the huff of a smile playing at your lips.

“What’s on the agenda now?” You smiled. “Secret sharing or blood brothers?”

He reached just past you for that black tin lunchbox and rattled its contents. “How about a party?”

—

The sun had set somewhere far off, past the trees and past the fields, and soon you and Eddie were engulfed in grey darkness and the chill of a summer night’s breeze. Your mouth was dry, all of your taste buds begging for water and salty snacks, and your eyes stung from the smoke and melted eyeliner. You were relaxed though, splayed out against burnt grass like a starfish, watching the clouds roll in above you.

“Should we think about heading back?” Eddie asked from beside you, his voice hoarse and far-off. You heard echoes off the tunnels a few yards away.

“Yeah. Do you have food in your van?”

“What kind of dealer would I be?”

“A bad one.” You giggled at that, a kind of giggle that couldn’t stop, and just beyond it, you sure the shuffle of your date getting to his feet.

He stood above you, hair filled with straw and a wide smile etched across his face, and he held his hand out to help you up. It was a process, a handful of stumbles and more giggles from the both of you, and you locked your fingers with his to stop you from tripping your way through the woods. His hand was really warm and calloused and strong.

These woods were fucking terrifying though. Trees too tall, too ancient, staring back at you with haunted faces made of knots and bark. You felt like Snow White at the beginning of the movie, running from the Huntsman. Your heart began to race, and you tucked into him tighter, pressing the width of his arm into your chest.

He slowed his walk to look at you. “You good?” His smile was lazy.

You darted your eyes upward, toward the tree line and gulped. “What’s the scariest thing that’s ever happened to you?”

“Shit,” he shrugged, continuing your walk. “Probably the last time my dad got arrested.”

You stalled at that. Your conversations thus far had only been surface level. Favorite bands, favorite songs, favorite strain, favorite snacks, party tricks. Until you were too high to ask anything real, and too hungry to focus on anything but the idea of a container of cheese puffs and licking the orange powder from your fingertips.

But his dad getting arrested? That shit was too real.

“I was like fourteen? And I just remember him rushing in and packing a bag. He didn’t say hi or anything. And then like three minutes later, the door was kicked in, and all of these cops like rushed him, pinned him to the ground, read him his rights. Scared the shit out of me.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, giving his hand a squeeze. The rings dug into your knuckles.

He shrugged beside you, helping you up and over a log. “It’s fine. I go visit him every Christmas.”

“Jesus,” you repeated, with a little more emphasis. Unsure of what else to say. Your parents were shitty, sure. They kicked you out, sure. But they hadn’t done anything that bad. If anything, they were the polar opposite of that. Goodie two shoes. Embarrassed to be seen with an anarchist who were too much black and not even crucifixes on her wall.

“My Uncle Wayne stepped up for me,” Eddie continued. “He like, never wanted kids. He was a truck driver, and then when Dad got thrown in the slammer, Wayne came back to Hawkins, got a job at the plant. He’s like… the sweetest guy ever. Always makes me do my homework and shit. Goes to my gigs when he can.”

You thought you might cry. It was that lump in your dry, dry throat, the pinch of emotion in your chest, the squeeze of his warm hand against yours. And you opened your mouth to talk again, but he knelt forward with an arm outstretched.

“Milady, your chariot awaits.”

You were back at the van. You remember the inside smelling more like weed earlier, and the seats were scratchier. But now, as you settled into the passenger’s side, your body sunk into the velvety fabric, your fingers splaying out on the cool plastic of the dashboard. Eddie fished around the back for a minute or two, returning with a half eaten bag of Doritos and a unopened packet of Pop Rocks.

Not much of a sweet tooth, you snatched the Doritos from his hand and dug in. They were stale, but the nacho cheese powder was almost as satisfying as cheese puffs, and you hummed in content as Eddie started the van and set out for your next destination. Occasionally, he’d shove a hand into the bag on your lap and retrieve a few crumpled chips, hand littered with dust.

It took a minute to get back into city limits, light pollution growing from the beyond the woods and farmland, and under the glow of streetlamps, you allowed yourself to have a little look at your driver, your dealer, your date.

He was handsome. You’d decided that the night before, watching him play that solo in the third song. He had a rather defined chin, hid under that mop of hair, mousy brown. He still had flecks of hay and grass just above his shoulder, but you resisted the urge to pick it out. He had broad shoulders too, surprising for such a string bean, but you could tell there was toned and refined muscle under those oversized t-shirts.

He glanced your way, puppy dog brown eyes under long lashes, and cracked a smile on those full lips. “What?”

Your face heated, caught, and you picked at the hem of your polka dot dress, brushing Dorito dust from the meat of your thigh. “You ever date a girl like me? I mean…” It felt hard to swallow. “Are there many alternative girls in Hawkins?”

Eddie barked a laugh at that. “Not even one.” He gave you a once over, deep eyes trailing the tops of your knees to the flop of your hair atop your head. You noticed the linger, the way he bit down on his bottom lip.

You felt a hit of pride at that, some of your sobriety sinking back in, ruffling the fuzzy edges of your high. You sunk back into the headrest, satisfied at his answer.

“You ever date a guy like me?”

It was your turn to laugh. You covered your face with your hand, and you felt his oversized hand reach over to squeeze your thigh.

“What?” He pestered.

You turned to face him, grinning, and nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say I have a type.”

Boys like Eddie Munson were a dime a dozen in your city. And you dated them all, picked up at clubs, fake IDs and too many cocktails, and unsatisfactory evenings that ended in you hobbling home barefoot. They wouldn’t call. They wouldn’t ask about you, until you saw them the following weekend at someone else’s gig, and the cycle started all over again.

“I guess that just means I’ll have to prove I’m different from the others.”

And somehow, you already knew he was.

The top step to Kelly’s house was too small, cramped. She’d left the light on for you, and that attracted a whole ecosystem of moths and gnats, and you were swatting them out of your eyes and trying not to let your teeth chatter from the cold breeze that had blown in. And you struggled around the opening of the storm door, too big for the stoop you stood on.

Eddie stood on the next step down, chivalrous enough to walk you to the door, but he had to step down to get you around the storm door, and it all felt too close and too awkward. Your back ached from laying on the ground for so long, and you desperately wanted to get in and shove some pizza rolls in your face before sleeping for ten hours.

“So, um…” Eddie held the door open for you, boxing you onto the front step. He was at eye level now, all brown eyes and shaggy hair, and despite your discomfort, your heart began to race with that familiar school-girl feeling of a first kiss. “I had a really good time tonight.”

“Me too,” you breathed.

He tucked a hand into yours, running a rough thumb over your knuckles, and the two of you stared down at your hands for a moment. Your nerve endings were electrocuted from the tips of your fingers all the way up to under your ears.

A giant moth rammed itself into the glass of the door. Thwack, thwack, thwack.

You both jumped. Anxious laughter spilled out.

“Jesus,” Eddie released your hand and scrubbed at his tired face. “I’m sorry. I think I’m way too high for this.”

You nodded, but your excited heartbeat slowed into something less promising. You weren’t high enough.

“I just mean,” he grabbed your hand again. “I want to kiss you. Like, I really,” he licked his lips. “Really want to kiss you. But I think I’ll be pissed at myself if I do it when I’m a little fucked up.”

You swallowed. Okay. Shit. Maybe he really was different from those other assholes.

“Can I take you on a real date?”

You nodded again, and watched that beautiful smile of his spread into a lazy grin.

“Yeah? On Friday, they’re previewing Day of the Dead at Starcourt. It’s supposed to be pretty scary. Would you want to go to that?”

“You know I’m always down for a scary movie. Besides, I have you to protect me, right?”

Eddie shrugged and squeezed your hand. “Better bring your knife, just in case.”

And before you could stop yourself, you closed the distance to press your lips against his cheek. The corner of his lip still held a chip flake, and his hair tickled your eyelashes. There was a tiny bit of scruff to his face, a stubble that threatened to grow in, but mostly his cheek was soft, supple against your lips. When you pulled away there was this look of stun across his face, as though you’d cast a spell and he was under it.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, bubbling a giggle out of you, and he stumbled his way down the last two steps to the driveway. “I better go. But I’ll be here to pick you up Friday.”

You nodded and waved.

He continued to back down the driveway to his van. He pointed two fingers your direction and announced, “I’m going to kiss you Friday!”

“You better!”

#eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #eddie x reader #eddie x punk!reader #eddie x you #no y/n #eddie munson #wip fic #cherry flavored summer

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