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eddies-house · 1 year

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The Under-Ground

Chapter One - Welcome to The Under-Ground

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - In which you work at the local Hawkins coffee shop where you thought you'd be able to escape the horrors that were high school a few years after graduating. Until one of those horrors lands a job in the closing shift with you...and you have to train him.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

5K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I finished this sooner than I thought I would...pls let me know what you think, I am having so much fun writing this so far and I can't wait to keep going

Masterlist

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The chill Autumn air infiltrated the apartment and left you shivering, the wool blanket atop your comforter did little to aid you in getting warm. That’s what five hundred dollars a month got you in small town Hawkins, it's what you could afford. Old striped wallpaper that alternated a faded baby blue and pale yellow that seemed to have been glued to the wall since the 70’s barely clung to the walls, a majority of it peeling and begging to be torn off. The stained white linoleum throughout the kitchen had seen better days and the carpet in the living room and bedroom was dingy, so dingy that no vacuum could possibly come close to cleaning it. The lock on the door was on the verge of breaking and almost didn’t work–almost. And of course the heater was definitely broken, the creepy landlord would take his sweet time to fix it, leaving you with a freezing apartment as the seasons changed and Hawkins welcomed the fall. A broke college student by day and a barista by night, these are the cards you were dealt for now.

Classes at the community college had finished for the day, rotating to the night courses. A few papers were due next week, one for your business class on the effects of product promotion in business growth that happened to be stressing you out extra. Your fingers tapped away at your laptop from your mattress nestled in the corner on the floor of your tiny bedroom. 4:30PM, the time in the corner of the screen read, just half an hour before your shift at The Under-Ground. With a groan, you click save on the document and shut the laptop which was certain to be opened later tonight after your shift only to continue the torturous essay. Begrudgingly you began your pre-work ritual of grabbing whatever snack or meal you had in the fridge, scarfing it down, and then tidying your appearance a bit while listening to your daily playlist named “Eh” on Spotify. Today’s vibe was set by Dreams by Fleetwood Mac.

The rusty bathroom faucet sputtered water before allowing a full stream to flow into the sink. You splashed some water on your face to feel more alive although it may have been a mistake in hindsight since the apartment was already cold and rather than feeling refreshed, you felt like a wet dog. Dabbing your face with a towel hanging from over the rod where the tie dye shower curtain hung as well, you collected any leftover mascara from the previous night beneath your waterline and around your eyelids. Moving to the compact closet in the bedroom, a simple outfit of jeans and a maroon knitted sweater you’d ‘claimed’ from the lost and found at the college were chosen and paired with your only signature docs. Lastly, your apron was tied around your waist in a neat knot.

Grabbing your keys from the laminate countertop and shoving your laptop in your bag, you make your way through the damaged and scratched up wooden door that was the entrance to your apartment, the number seven nailed to the front of it. “God dammit.” you jam your key in and out of the lock, twisting and repeating until it finally clicks in place. The door leads right outside into the biting air and you scurry down the concrete stairs while avoiding touching the nasty railing, Mrs. Harrison’s chubby cat, Raphael is perched right at the bottom like he always is. His large green irises stare up at you, giving the appearance that he was just a fluffy ball of black fur with eyes. “Ralphy” you mumble your nickname for him affectionately as you steal a pat from his head on your way out of the apartments, a small meow chiming through the air.

The Under-Ground wasn’t a far walk but it sure did seem that way the colder it got. You’d been working there since the Spring and so far had no issues with weather but you knew it would bite you at some point. The walk through downtown Hawkins is crisp and cloudy, leaves blowing delicately from the trees and laying perfectly in the street, colors varying from red, orange, and brown. It was mid September. Patrons wander about the streets attending to their daily errands. Teenagers mess around at the entrance of The Hideout, no doubt attempting to use their fake IDs only to be turned away by the bouncer, Stan.

Joyce Byers cleans the storefront window of Melvald’s, taking care to not miss a single streak. Her face lights up as her son, Will approaches the store. Max Mayfield skateboards past you down the sidewalk at lightning speed, the only reason you know it's her is a flash of her flaming red hair as well as Lucas Sinclair trying to keep up with her on his own board, a nervous expression written on his features as he carefully maneuvers. Nancy Wheeler hurriedly gets into her car, wrapping up her workday at The Hawkins Post while Jonathan Byers gives her cheek a kiss and heads over toward Will and Joyce.

The Under-Ground comes into view as you round the corner, the brick building vacant of customers at the moment from what you can tell through the windows. The evening rush hasn’t picked up yet, usually kicking in at around six when the college students like yourself would make themselves at home and study over lattes and espresso shots. The bell chimes above the door as you pull it open, the smell of coffee beans and pastries flooding your nose and some upbeat jazz playing through the speakers. Robin sits atop the counter much to the boss, Ronnie's dismay but he’s not around to scold her. Her dirty blonde bob is freshly trimmed, bangs laying just right across her forehead while she has a lollipop sticking out her mouth and she skims through a magazine lazily. One leg is hitched up onto the counter with her bright yellow converse on display, knee to her chest. She’s wearing jeans with a few holes and a vintage tee. Her bright blue eyes glance up and land on you, face lighting up as she greets you. “Hey, Robin!” you greet back, making your way behind the counter to clock in on the computer.

“You’re lucky, it’s been dead for hours.” she says while setting aside the magazine. “Think it’s gonna rain too so it’ll probably stay that way.” she continues.

“Good, I can probably catch up on some homework then.” you hum, punching in your employee number.

“Oh and some new guy is supposed to close with you tonight, I think you’re training him.” she mentions.

“So, no catching up on homework then.” you sigh. Training someone new wasn't necessarily difficult however it was draining since you already knew how to do everything like the back of your hand. Dumbing it all down always took a minute since you had to slow down and give them time to catch on.

“Did Ronnie say who?” you ask, turning to face Robin. Hawkins was small which meant that everyone knew everyone. Which was unfortunate sometimes since that also meant everyone knew everyone's business.

Robin hops off the counter, hair bouncing as she does. “Nope, I just know that it's some dude.” she crunches down on her lollipop and discards the stick in the garbage a few feet away.

With a sigh, you head to the back room to put your bag in your locker only to find Steve lounging at the lunch table, his feet crossed on top of it while scrolling through his phone and two legs of the chair he occupies off the ground as he balances. Today he sports some red corduroy pants and an ivory crewneck sweater finished off with converse, just like Robin’s, only black. “What’s up?” he greets, not once looking up from his phone.

“Scrolling through Tinder again, Stevie?” you mock while setting your bag in your locker for safe keeping, hooking the lock around the metal and clicking it into place.

“Actually, it’s Grindr.” he says matter of factly.

“My bad, you find anyone cute?” you ask, peering over his shoulder, his aftershave smelling subtle and pleasant.

He lands on a cute blonde guy with green eyes, most likely from a town over. “Not really.” he exhales, running a hand through his voluminous hair.

“Well what about him? He’s pretty cute.” you encourage.

“Dude, it says he likes to do Karaoke for fun.” he glances behind at you with a raised brow. You shrug, unaware of why that would deter him.

“If that's not a red flag, I don’t know what is.” he states, shutting his phone off and shoving it in his pocket while standing, making his way to the vending machine. “What happened to me, Socks? I used to pull 'em left and right and now no guy or girl will give me the time of day.” Socks was your nickname given by Steve and Robin after the dreadful incident where a pipe burst from one of the sinks and you happened to be standing in front of it, the bottom half of your pants along with your socks becoming soaked. The rest of the evening you worked your shift without shoes, only in your sopping wet socks with your jeans rolled up. It had been an ongoing joke since, although you always reminded them how horrible it is to go around in wet shoes, the squeaky sound they would make against the floor and the squishiness of the soles. They always disagreed, insisting that it would be worse to work in only socks and how they’d just opt to continue wearing the drenched shoes.

“Steve, I think Grindr and Tinder and all the dating apps might be giving you unrealistic expectations.” you tell him truthfully.

“Okay, but who the hell else am I gonna find in Hawkins? Been there, done that, this is my only option." He inserts a dollar into the vending machine and punches in his selection, shortly after a bag of pretzels falls.

“Pretzels, Steve? Really?” you taunt. “How bland of you.” you deadpan. He pulls open the packaging and tosses a pretzel in his mouth all while giving you his signature pout. “Maybe that's your issue, you dumb yourself down for these people you don’t even know.” you continue.

“Wow.” he raises his arms in disbelief, a hint of humor evident. “That…” he flings a pretzel at you, hitting your chest. “...was mean.” he sasses. “But probably true.” he finishes. “Don’t you have a job or something?” his head tilts toward the door.

“Yeah, and so do you.” you shoot back, grabbing his apron from where it hung over one of the breakroom chairs and throwing it at him.

Exiting the room, you hear Steve chime in one more time. “I’m off in like fifteen!” Your shifts always overlapped with Steve and Robin’s, them usually taking the morning to afternoon shift and you taking over closing. Ronnie would always hang out in the back office so you didn’t have to close alone but that was pretty much the extent of his labor. The beans needed to be ground for the next day, chairs stacked on the tables, bathroom tidied, ingredients prepped, counters wiped down, etc. And you were always the one to do it, not that you minded so much. Ronnie never micromanaged and you had gotten good at closing so it became somewhat of a meditation time. The town winded down and the dim lighting provided a relaxing glow, almost as if you were in a spa. You could at least pretend anyway.

Robin was making herself a latte, carefully pouring the milk over the coffee in an attempt to make a design. She’d been practicing for weeks with no success. “Dammit! Another wasted latte!” she slams the small pitcher of cream onto the counter.

“That for me?” you question over her shoulder, spotting the blob of white draped over the coffee. You ended up drinking them most of the time, always looking forward to your daily latte handcrafted by Robin.

Letting a breath out, she hangs her head in defeat. “It is now.”

Steve saunters out from the back, stopping in his tracks right next to Robin. “Another one? Seriously?” he mutters before continuing to the espresso machine to make probably his fourth drink of the day.

“When is the new guy scheduled to come in?” you ask as you pour yourself an iced coffee. Everyone was allowed one free drink a day however it was never enforced unless the owner, Ronnie’s mom was around. She owned The Under-Ground while her husband owned The Hideout.

“5:30, I think?” Robin answers. The clock on the register currently reads 5:20. Steve glances at you, trying to hide a smirk as he quickly looks in the other direction.

“What?” you demand. Shaking his head he continues pouring an espresso shot into paper to go cup. A tug on his sleeve doesn’t get him to budge. “Steve, why did you give me that look?!” you hound him.

“Nothing!” he raises his hands in defense, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Steve.” you narrow your eyes at him, brows knit in frustration.

“Yeah, Steve. What do you know that I don’t?” Robin steps towards him while crossing her arms in offense.

“Nothing!” He lies, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Steve.” Robin glares at him.

“Y’know, this is already getting to me.” he points to his cup. “I gotta run to the bathroom.” he rushes to the back once again, holding his stomach and pretending to grimace in pain.

“What’s up with him?” you look at Robin, the two of you left standing there without any idea. She shrugs, handing you the botched latte she just made.

Pushing aside your theories, you begin setting up for your shift, restocking the cups and making sure there’s enough whip cream in the canister. The Under-Ground had a very cozy vibe, dark mahogany woods decorating the interior, little twinkly lights draped above the windows, and a snug book nook tucked away in the back corner with large shelves that took up the whole wall. Accompanying it are a few tables and chairs, their wood matching the counter and on top of each table sits various houseplants that you’d have to remind yourself to water.

Robin tops off the pastries as she always does at the end of her shift, adding some chocolate croissants, blueberry muffins, brownies, and a brand new lemon loaf to the case. She finishes off by wiping off the glass with a rag and then ensures the display of gift cards and bags of coffee beans on the counter is dusted off and pristine.

You busy yourself by restocking the to-go sandwiches in the open cooler at the front of the counter, making a note to also grab a few more parfaits from the back since those were running low as well. A few books are scattered among one of the tables so you take it upon yourself to collect them and tuck them neatly back on the book shelf. Other than that, nothing else is left to do and you should be ready to start training the new hire without any distractions. You reward yourself by sipping on the latte, the bitter taste gracing your tongue and warmth coating your throat. Robin disappears to the back briefly, coming back out with her bag while shoving her apron into it, ready to clock out the second it hits 5:30.

The roaring of an engine suddenly echoes in the streets, an obnoxious sputtering filling your ears as you glance up and out of the front window. It comes to a screeching halt as a motorcycle pulls up into one of the parking spots horizontally rather than vertically like the rest of the vehicles. Jackass, you think to yourself as the owner kicks the kickstand down. He wears a standard black motorcycle helmet, a leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and some combat boots, a walking stereotype for some kind of punk ass kid.

Jim Hopper catches him, his cop car parked a few spaces away while he does his crossword in the driver’s seat. You can’t quite make out what's being said but as Hopper exits his car in a hurry, you can tell they have most likely had run-ins like this before. The jackass looks up in aggravation as he still straddles the bike, the sky reflected in the visor of his helmet. Hopper appears to be telling him off but not giving him a ticket when he most definitely should. Jackass reparks the bike correctly, gesturing to it as if he’d performed a magic trick, Hopper with a hand on his hip and a scowl on his face. He points a finger at him, muttering one last thing before retreating back to his own car, eyes never leaving the guy.

Steve emerges from the back again, carefully. “Shit.” he mumbles.

Your gaze moves from the scene outside to behind you at Steve who is also now looking out the window. This provokes you to look back outside. Just as you’re about to ask, the jackass removes his helmet, revealing a head of wild brunette curls, his hand adorned in chunky rings as he grips the helmet. Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to inputting some inventory in the computer. Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he’s making his way toward the door. “Are you kidding me?” you say under your breath.

“Thought trendy coffee wasn’t his style.” you say to no one in particular. Steve inhales as if waiting for some kind of impact.

“Oh…” Robin says in some kind of realization.

The bell above the door rings as he swings it open, striding across the shop and in front of the counter, his eyes are a dark abyss as he looks from you to Robin and then to Steve.

“Munson.” Steve acknowledges him.

“Harrington.” he says back, a tinge of disgust rolling off his tongue. Robin’s eyes are wide as they shift between you two.

“What do you want, Eddie?” you bite, voice full of malice as you glare up at him.

Bringing his hand to his chest, his face contorting into a mock pout, he sets the helmet on the counter. “Ouch. That make you feel better, sweetheart?” Sarcasm drips from his tone.

You scoff about to tell him to leave but he just continues. “Make you feel all big and bad? Get it out of your system yet?” he taunts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh no.” Robin says quietly, leaning over you to clock out and then subtly making her way around the counter.

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here and find someone else to dick around with?” you snap, grabbing his helmet and forcing it into his hands.

A cocky look takes over his features. “Well what if I’m a paying customer?”

“I have the right to refuse service so, I’m refusing.” you can feel anger coursing through your veins, blood running hot.

“That’s unfortunate.” he frowns, moving to make his way behind the counter. “For you.” his stare burns into you, two black holes nearly swallowing you up.

“I don’t have time-” you begin but are cut off when he reaches over you and starts typing away at the computer, clocking in. His cheap cologne and cigarette smoke flood your nose.

Steve looks at you apologetically as Eddie passes him on his way to the back. A silence lingers as you process that you’ll be forced to work with the one person in this town you can’t stand. Eddie Munson was the new hire and of course he had to be scheduled on the closing shift with you. Life couldn’t get any worse than this, a shitty apartment, and now a shitty job that you used to love combined with mountains of homework. Your eternal hell. Work was supposed to be a place you could briefly escape. Sure it was still work but you didn’t mind.

“Steve!” both you and Robin scold him at the same time. He squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for more yelling.

“You knew Ronnie hired him and you just didn’t tell me!” you seethe. “You could have warned me! I could have switched shifts or something-or, or–or tell Ronnie he’s a criminal or something! So he wouldn’t get hired!” your eyes are bulging out of your head as you reprimand the poor guy.

“Okay, see, the way you're reacting right now doesn’t give me any confidence that you would have reacted any differently if I told you earlier.” Steve explains while clocking out.

“So you think springing it on her like that was any better!” Robin says loudly. Steve contemplates for a moment.

“Look, Socks. I’m sorry.” he apologizes sincerely.

“Socks?” Eddie stands in the doorway that leads to the back, now free of his leather jacket and wearing a black Metallica tee. “What kinda fucked up thing did you do for a nickname like that?” he asks, a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, kill me now.” you drag your hands down your face in agony. Steve and Robin slowly make their way toward the front door, looking at you sympathetically.

“See you tomorrow?” Robin awkwardly points finger guns at you before they speed up and shuffle out the door.

You sigh heavily, dropping your arms limply to your sides. Turning around, Eddie is about to speak up again but you cut him off.

“I don’t wanna hear it. You don’t talk unless it's about work. I’ll train you today and then I’ll ask Ronnie to move you to mornings or something.” you tell him in one breath.

He laughs before replying. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Hate to be the bearer of bad news but you’re stuck with me, doll.” he chuckles lowly. “I only work nights.” he says with that stupid grin.

“Who did I piss off for this to happen?” you mumble to yourself, rubbing at your temples. “Put this on.” you shove an apron at his chest.

He grunts at the impact. “No.” he simply says, refusing to grab it from you. His expression is blank.

Scoffing, you shove it against him even harder. “This is work. We work here. Stop acting like a damn child.” you say sternly.

Now taking the apron in his hand, you think he’s finally come to his senses until he bunches it up and tosses it onto one of the counters, eliciting a groan from you. You were foolish to think he would play nice.

–

Trying to train Eddie was as useful as training a fly. He didn’t listen and would purposely mess things up claiming he didn’t know any better and he almost charged one of your only customers that night double the actual cost. It was like watching a toddler, you couldn’t take your eyes away from him or all hell would break loose. The cherry on top was all the snide comments he would make which led to more bickering.

When it came to closing time at 9:00, you were exhausted and could practically feel the eyebags hanging off your face. There was not enough espresso in the world to keep up with Eddie’s antics. You were counting the money from the register, making sure all was accounted for, Eddie watching as he was supposed to be learning when really he was zoned out.

“Alright, Socks, are we done here?” he says with a bored tone.

You glance between him and the cash, still counting under your breath while ignoring him. Poking your arm, he tries again. “Socks. I got things to do.” he continues. “Hey, I’m talking to you–”

“--Oh my god, just go.” you break, finally completing your counting and setting the money back in the drawer neatly.

“Fuck yeah.” he whispers, rushing to the back to collect his things. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you only hope he quits before you have to work another shift with him. Eddie wasn’t just an asshole, he was the asshole who was partially responsible for your shitty high school experience. You know it's dumb, there’s no reason to let something keep a hold on you for so long but it just does. It makes you cringe, it's like the equivalent to peaking in high school but opposite, and yet you can’t seem to look past it.

Nothing but the twinkly lights and the dim overhead lights lit up the shop, a moment of peace taking over you while the town outside laid itself to rest. Shutting off the music and untying your apron to drape it over your arm, you do one more scan to make sure everything is set for tomorrow. Satisfied, you head to the back to retrieve your bag. Eddie passes you, almost running you over on his way out, his stupid helmet in hand.

“See ya tomorrow, Socks.” he salutes as he clocks out, shortly after you hear the bell chime signaling that he had left. He was overusing that nickname but you knew it would only please him to call it out. You had to keep your cool until he figured out he didn’t fit in here and quit. Exhaling, you unlock your locker, grabbing your bag and tossing your apron in before exiting and heading for the door.

The door is locked and double checked as you step out onto the sidewalk only to find that it was still raining. Just my luck. Eddie’s dumb motorcycle roars to life again a few feet away from you, a nuisance to the tranquil town around you. Rolling your eyes, you begin your damp journey home. It’s not until you’re in front of the movie theater that you hear that damn bike behind you. You think he’s going to speed past you, maybe splash some water on you while he’s at it but the engine rumbles as if right next to you–which it was.

“Are you lost?” you spit, continuing to walk.

He rides beside you slowly, irritating you to your core. “Need a ride home?” he asks, slightly muffled by his helmet.

You huff before responding. “No. I don’t need anything from you. Get the hell out of here.” You keep your gaze straight ahead as you walk, him still following behind.

“Sweetheart–”

“--Do NOT call me that. Ever. Again.” you scold, taking a moment to point your finger at him, your face displaying disdain toward him.

“Look, I may be an asshole but it's raining. I can give you a ride.” he coaxes but it doesn’t work. You keep on, the rain drops collecting on your eyelashes.

“Get bent, Eddie.” you say, now walking faster, hoping to evade him.

He lifts the visor on the helmet, now showing his eyes as he keeps up with you. “Get on the damn bike.”

“Fuck you.” you snap at him.

Desperate, you start jogging across the crosswalk and that's when he gives up. Glancing behind you, he flips the visor down and revs the bike before speeding off. You weren’t stupid and you weren’t going to play into his little sadist games. Life was already steamrolling you and you did not need some jackass to factor into it. After a few minutes of walking, you finally rounded the corner and the faded powder blue apartments came into view, street lights illuminating the way. The streets were sleek with rain and oil, giving off reflections of the traffic lights and buildings. You were careful to scurry your way across the parking lot to avoid any of the creeps that hung around late at night. It wasn’t exactly the best area, being notorious for drug deals and any other illegal side hustles.

Raphael’s spot on the stairs was vacant due to the downpour which you frowned at, you always looked forward to seeing him upon coming home. A few skeezy looking men stood nearby however they seemed to be involved in their own drama as they argued and took no interest in you. Gratefully, you continued quietly up the stairs and hurriedly unlocked the door, jamming the key in the lock until it gave out to you.

Slipping into your nightly routine, you begin to unwind as much as you can. A quick shower awaited you since the hot water was limited and you couldn’t wait to munch on one of the sandwiches you snagged from work. In your defense Ronnie had ordered way too many for the week and the back fridge was overflowing with them. The local deli they came from, Anderson’s had some fairly good quality meats and cheeses so for that you were thankful as they pretty much kept you fed. Tonight’s would be turkey and swiss with mayo on sourdough, your favorite. The lights flickered on as you hit the switch, another quirk that came with the run down apartment. The living room and entryway were now bathed in a warm and quite dim glow, or in other words if you wanted to read a book, it’d be quite difficult to see. Shivering from being drenched in rain, you set your bag on the kitchen counter adjacent to the entryway and start taking off your damp clothes, peering into your room to toss them into the hamper and slipping into the bathroom. It was a tight space, not a whole lot of room to do much but it was home.

Turning the faucet to ‘hot’, you wait for the water to get warm enough to bear, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom still bothered you no matter how long you lived there. You stood on the bath mat feeling the water with your finger until it was to your satisfaction, stepping in and feeling welcomed by the sudden warmth you’d been waiting for all day. In that moment you feel relief from the pressures of the world, the deadlines, bills, loans, essays, all of it. Everything melts away for approximately three minutes and that's when the water starts to turn cold again, returning you back to the dreadful reality you wish you could neglect.

But to your dismay, the cycle just starts all over again, keeping you hostage.

~end~

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Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie x fem reader #eddie x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #barista!eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fluff #the under ground

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the-possum-writes · 1 year

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Hugwolf!Finn Headcannons

❥Character: Finn Mertens

❥Tags: SFW, Gen!neutral reader, headcanons, hugwolf

❥A/n: Not a request but more but more like what comes to the top of my head when I remembered hug wolves exists 👀

❥Taglist:@watchingfromthefloorboards @foxpearlwilder

Hugwolf: Season 4, episode 6

❥Finn's personality changes alongside his appearance when he takes wolf form, he's a bit more feral but also very touchy feely and loving at the same time. The first time you saw him, it was when Jake had him tied to a chair, foam would fall from his mouth, he'd snarl and make threats.

❥His threats don't work as they're supposed to tho.

"I'mma hug you so good."

"I uh... Phew, Can we open up a window in here?" you fan yourself with your hands.

❥"I OFFER MYSELF AS TRIBUTE!" Pre-relationship, you bravely volunteer to keep Finn busy in a controlled environment for the sake of others safety since he runs on rampant hugging sprees.

❥He didn't have full control over his strength at first so you'd often feel sore the next day after night long hugging sessions, but overtime he's grown careful since you've consistently been his teddy bear.

❥Somehow that made his wolf form imprint on you, becoming his favorite hug victim. When he's human he calls you more often, spends time to get to know you better, and even if he tries to refrains from hugging you so much in public you let him casually toss an arm over your shoulders.

❥When a more solid relationship builds up, he's more touchy in human form. When he hasn't touched you in a while his skin gets prickly and interrupts whatever he's doing just to seek you out, I mean, you could be cooking and he just lovingly wraps his arms around you and let's out a sigh, like it soothes him.

❥Finn gets a bit annoying sometimes tho, like if you take your time in the bathroom he begs you to let him inside like a cat.

❥You've known him to be chill when he was normal, but after his transformation he's prone to get jealous whenever you hug someone else. Conversations usually go something like:

"I don't like how tightly they hugged you."

"Finn they're my grandparents, you've met them before."

❥You used to joke about getting him a collar, years later when you're both adults the metal tag on his neck matches with your wedding ring.

❥When he escapes your watch at night to terrorize the candy people you jokingly play off the jealous spouse like he cheated.

"I can't believe you hugged cinnamon bun."

"Pfft Honey, you know I don't have any control over myself... Wait. please don't let me sleep alone on the couch-"

#adventure time x reader #finn mertens x reader #finn the human #adventure time

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eddie-van-munson · 2 years

Text

Somewhere (Eddie Munson x Reader)

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Warnings: Season 4 Spoilers, Character Death, Angst, Fluff, Description of Blood and Injury, Brief mentions of a Character Throwing up, Smut ( pv unprotected) (But in a heartfelt emotional way), Hospital Refrence, Cursing, Refrences to People Thinking Eddie is a Satanist, Pregnancy Refrences

Summary: Eddie knows he doesn't have much time left. Instead of spending it struggling in a hospital, he decides to stay with you. Being loved and held right 'til the end.

(I will get a "Read More" cut on this ASAP. Requests are open!)

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Your whole body was trembling as you held him, blood and grime soaked through his Hellfire shirt. He cradled your face, smiling up at you with blood stained lips. How Dustin had managed to get him back through the gate, you had no idea, but you didn't care. He was here. He was safe now.

"We-..." sobs rattled you. Eddie hushed you lovingly, stroking your cheek as he looked up at you with heavy eyes. "We've gotta call an ambulance."

"No." Eddie cooed with a sad smile. "No baby. It's too late for that. 's not why I came back."

"Eds you're bleeding out. You're-"

"I'm not gonna spend my last hours in a hospital, babe. Came back to be with you."

"D-Don't say that please don't say that-" You begged, your whole body crumpling. Eddie gave you a sad smile, hushing you lovingly.

"Look at me." You scrubbed at your eyes, but he moved your hand away from your face. "Look at me, pretty girl."

Your eyes burnt. His features were blurred with tears as you tried to pull yourself together for him.

"There's not much time left, huh? I don't want to die in a hospital bed. Don't want to die all covered in tubes and full of drugs."

"Eddie-" You couldn't form words.

"I know, princess". He brushed your tears away with his thumb, accidentally smudging dirt over your cheek. "Let's go home, babe. Is that ok? I'll take care of you and you'll take care of me...we'll do this together." You bit your lip, ignoring the churning of your stomach and the cries threatening to escape your throat. You nodded, sniffling, and he smiled so big at you that you can't help but let out another sob, kissing his forehead.

You let Dustin help Eddie to the car, giving them the opportunity to say their goodbyes. It also gave you the opportunity to empty your stomach into the bushes without Eddie noticing. Dustin brought you some water to wash your mouth out before you returned to the van.

***

You played Eddie's music for him on the car ride home, holding his hand loosely as he sang along croakily and softly.

"Y/N." He cooed, pressing a kiss to your hand. "Will it hurt you to know? All of the things I wanted to do with you?"

You blinked back tears again, trying to find the courage to meet his eyes, which you just knew were filled with so much love.

"It makes me happy to think about them." He hummed. "Thought maybe they'd make you happy too. When I'm-"

"Tell me about us, Eds. What are we going to do, hm? Once you graduate." You met his tired eyes and he smiled at you sleepily. Your chest ached. God, your beautiful boy. Not your beautiful boy.

"I'm gonna put a ring on your finger. Snatch you up and make you all mine." He chuckled softly, "Save up and buy you a huge white dress."

You swallowed thickly, "Yeah? Didn't think you'd be one for a big wedding."

"Nah, I'm showing you off to all of Hawkins, babe." You smiled at him, wiping your tears, and he grinned so brightly back at you that it almost made you forget he was hurt.

"Then what?"

He choked a little, making your heart stop momentarily, but then took a labored breath and continued. "Then we get the hell out of here. Move somewhere with more than one goddamn stop light." He joked. "And a few less angry hicks would be nice too, huh?" He smiled to himself, thoughtfully. "I'll get you out of that shitty apartment and buy you a house. One we can fill up with a million little Munsons. Start an army."

You laughed, which makes Eddie feel very accomplished. He grinned at the sound. "A million?"

"Give or take a few!"

You smiled so lovingly at him as you put the car in park in the driveway, unbuckling your seat belt to kiss him. He nuzzled against your nose needily, groaning. "We're getting started now, huh?" He hummed against your lips.

You laughed, a tear rolling down your cheek. "I love you." Your expression crumbled a little at the words and you gave a soft sob.

"Hey..." he brushed away your tears, kissing your nose softly. "I love you too, ok? Always. Forever and always and then for a hundred years after that."

***

Eddie gritted his teeth, refusing to reveal to you that he was in pain in any way as you helped him into the apartment.

You led him to the bathroom, helping him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet as you pulled off his grimy clothes. Eventually, you gave in, grabbing a pair of scissors from your first aid kit. You couldn't keep trying to maneuver him out of the fabric anymore. Not when he was bleeding both externally and internally. You were so hesitant to cut off his Hellfire shirt, pausing as you held your scissors to the collar of it. He laughed softly, his eyes growing more droopy by the minute. "Just cut it off, babe. It's ok."

You mustered your strength and snipped the fabric, ripping through it quickly to free him of it before doing the same with his jeans. It took everything in you not to get sick again when you saw his shredded chest. You gave a sob, despite your attempts to abort the sound, and broke into tears again. Eddie's heart broke. "Hey no no no no shhh 's alright. I've got you. You're ok, sweetheart. I've got you." You gathered yourself a little, whimpering an apology. "No, baby, hey...I'm sorry. I didn't think, sweetheart. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's just...I should've b-been there. Should've kept you safe."

"You are here, silly. You're keeping me safe right now. Taking such good care of me. That's all that matters."

He held you there in his arms for a long while before you finally forced yourself to run him a bath. " 'm gonna take care of you." You promised, rubbing your eyes. "Gonna make you feel better, Eds. I swear it."

"Hey..." He smiled at you as you turn back to face him. "Already done, baby doll."

He groaned blissfully as you helped him crawl into the bath, the water immediately turning dark with blood and dirt. You washed him of most of it carefully with a rag and drained the filthy water before filling the tub again.

"Christ, I've never been so grateful for this tiny, shitty bathtub before in my life."

You giggled at him as you poured water through his messy curls, grabbing his shampoo. He moaned softly as you worked it into his hair, your nails dragging over his scalp in a heavenly way. "I love you so much." He whispered, eyes fluttering shut as you worked. You kissed him, and he smiled against your lips.

You towelled his hair off when he was done, being careful not to hurt his chest or tummy as you gently dried him.

He was pale. Very pale. The bath water was pink by the time you'd drained it again and you knew deep in your stomach there wasn't much time left. You held the majority of his weight as you helped him limp to the bedroom. He was able to pull on a pair of boxers, but you could see him growing dizzy and clammy even from that, and quickly laid him in bed.

" 'm c-cold." He shivered as you brushed his damp bangs from his face. You curled up beside him, tucking a comforter around his body as you held him. He was blinking back the sinking of his eyelids now and it made a knot form in your throat. "Y/N."

"Yes, baby..."

"You've got to leave me, ok? Once I'm gone."

"Eddie-"

His grip around your waist, tightened. "I'll be alright, princess. I promise. But you've got to go. You've-" he coughed raggedly and your stomach churned. His voice was getting shakey and faint. "You've got to get out of here. You can't let them think you're part of this. They...if they find me alone they'll think it was some kind of satanist suicide ritual but you can't be here. I can't take you down with me."

You nodded, unwilling to argue with him or upset him. Not now. You whimpered, tears rolling down your cheek.

"That's my girl." He smiled an Eddie smile, pulling you in for a kiss. "My girl. Always my girl." You kissed him desperately, though gently, and he held you as close to him as his hands trailed over your skin. "I have a dying wish." He croaked softly against your lips. His hand trailing to your waist and down across your thigh to pull your knee over his hips, guiding you to straddle him.

"Eds-"

"Let me feel you. Please, let me feel you. Just one more time."

So you straddled him.

You'd never forget the soft sounds that left his lips as you, ever so carefully, rocked your hips against his. A taste of heaven, Eddie thought. One last taste of heaven before I'm sent to hell. He held you so close, his hands sliding up your back as he finished, his breathing heavy as he pressed soft, weak kisses down your neck. His heat filled your belly so perfectly, slowly spilling out between your thighs as you pulled his boxers back up as best you could, seeing as he refused to let you go. "I love you." He whispered, his breathing struggling to even out. "I love you f-forever. Even when your eighty years old and you've got great grand children I'll still be loving you. S-Somewhere out there."

His hands trembled. Swallowing his own fear as his vision blurred. He cradled your face, dragging his thumb over your cheek as you let tears spill. "I'll always r-remember...I'll always remember when Eddie Munson was mine." You sob, kissing his forehead.

"I was always yours." You could barely hear it, now. A lazy, sleepy smile adorning his pretty face.

"Don't go." You begged him. "Please, Eddie...keep your eyes open. Please." He blinked rapidly, holding your hand.

" 'm tired, baby."

"I know...I know, Eds. I-..." His hand sunk a little from where he held your face, but you didn't let it, cradling it to your cheek.

"It's time for me to....to sleep. Just need a nap. I'm sleepy." He hummed weakly, looking so lovingly at you with hooded eyes. "It's alright, baby. Just...just need to sleep."

"I know baby." You swallowed so hard knowing it was time to let him go. You sobbed into his hand as you held him. "It's ok. Rest for me, Eds. It's ok. I've got you. You...You can rest. You can go to sleep, now."

He smiled at you so sweetly, "Pretty girl."

His eyes fluttered shut as he drifted away. You held him for four minutes before he exhaled one last time, his chest going still.

You couldn't leave him. Not until you saw the sun starting to come up over the trees and you knew you had to go.

He looked so beautiful, there. The sun painting his pale face. Like he really was sleeping. You pulled the comforter up over his chest, hiding the gashes and the bites that had taken him from you. You took his arms from your waist carefully, laying them at his sides. You adjusted his pillow further beneath his head, combing through his curls, all fluffy and clean from the bath, with your fingertips.

"I love you, Eddie." You whispered to him one last time, kissing his forehead. You put music on for him when you left. Something soft and comforting.

Something he could sleep to.

***

Three months later.

Hellfire wasn't the same. Of course it wasn't. You knew it wouldn't be. They all did. But it was a piece of Eddie that was still alive. The boys needed it. You did too. So every week, the campaigns went on.

You drove them all to school in the mornings and helped with homework. You surrounded yourself with people who made your heart feel whole again.

You were late this morning. Really late. You choked an apology to the boys as they climbed into the van.

"Jesus, are you ok?" Dustin frowned, staring at you.

"Yeah", Mike agreed. "You look terrible."

"Thanks."

He rolled his eyes, "Are you sick?"

"I must be." You sighed as you grabbed the stick shift, adjusting it to back out. "I've thrown up every morning for a week and a half. I think I've got food poisoning or something."

Dustin scrunched his nose in disgust. "Shit."

"Wait..." Lucas leaned forward to meet your eyes in the rearview mirror. "Every morning?"

"Yeah. Usually goes away after an hour or so." You ignored the slight nausea that swam in your head as you took a sharp turn.

"Y/N..." Lucas looked a bit bewildered.

Dustin caught on, eyes going wide. "Oh my god. When was your last period?"

You hit the breaks, immediately pulling over into a lot. "What the fuck Dustin?"

"When was it!?" Dustin and Lucas yell.

You froze, realizing what they were saying.

"No. Guys it's not like that. It can't be. I haven't been with anyone except-" Your heart fluttered. Eddie. Eddie.

"Except Eddie?" Dustin hummed softly. You swallowed thickly, nodding. There was a long silence. Dustin took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

Your eyes found Gareth and Jeff.

"You don't have to answer this..." Gareth muttered, softly. "But when was the last time you guys.....??"

Your eyes fell to your hands. Tears burning in the corners of your eyes. You steadied your voice. "The night...the night he...." Dustin's brow furrowed with concern. He squeezed your hand. "He asked if we...if we could-" you swallowed thickly. "One last time."

Gareth smiled at you sadly. The van was silent as the boys were hit with the reality of what was happening.

Gareth stood, dropping his backpack and gesturing for you to hop into the passenger seat. You did, and he started the engine. "Where are we going?"

"A drugstore."

***

It was a sight to behold. You, eyes still teary and your hands shaking, buying a pregnancy test as 6 highschool aged boys in matching shirts watched anxiously. The cashier had her brows furrowed in an odd mixture of suspicion and confusion.

It only seemed to make the situation more puzzling to the store's employees when you asked to use the restroom, and were followed back by all six boys, who waited patiently for you to return.

You were trembling when you finally opened the bathroom door to see them, and at the first sign of the smile on your face, all six boys erupted in triumph. Tears welled over in your eyes, running down your face as they jumped and laughed and hollered and cheered. The boys crowded you, each one pulling you into big hugs. High fiving one another.

"Long Live Munson!" Gareth cried, cheers sounding from the group. "Still throwing surprises at us! Even now!"

In that moment you knew he'd been right. You knew that Eddie was still somewhere, loving you. Because you could feel it.

And right now, you were more than happy for it to feel like morning sickness.

***********

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munsen #eddie munsen x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie the freak munson #eddie imagine #eddie x reader #stranger things x reader

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

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@steddie-week day two: angst

(Set pre season 4)

Steve can’t get Eddie out of his head. They’re walking that bitter line between strangers and lovers that Steve can’t comprehend.

Maybe he should just get over himself and go for it. But Steve can’t do that.

He’s a Harrington. He has a full future planned for him. A wife and kids provided for by his trust fund and the eventual office job his dad will get him. He was prepped his whole life for this.

Then Eddie Munson walked into his life and turned it upside down.

Suddenly all the meaningless sex and hopeless dates made sense. It’s like he was waiting his whole life for Eddie to ruin it.

But what’s between them is one of those unspoken things. Sure, Eddie is always the first one that Steve calls at 2am when he can’t sleep. And in the darkness they may capture each other’s lips as if they only belonged to one another. Hell, they even held each other and would whisper something about a future as if in the morning, Steve wouldn’t leave before Eddie woke up and acknowledge him with a few nods in public.

“One day…” were always the words that would fall from Eddie’s lips before he fell asleep. And Steve couldn’t help but repeat it as some kind of meaningful empty promise.

It happens only one time for Steve to know that it needs to be the last time. Whispered I love you’s between kisses muttered for the first time but in the back of Steve’s mind since the first time they had embraced. He goes as far as sleeping in the next morning only to be awoken in Eddie’s arms with the man giving him such a hopeful look that Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

Another empty promise of more.

Eddie makes him breakfast. It’s shitty, but Steve doesn’t mind. Not when Eddie is smiling so wide and pressing gentle kisses against his temple as if he can’t control himself.

Steve kisses him goodbye and lingers in it.

This needs to be the last time or he’ll never be able to let him go.

He doesn’t call the next night. He hears the phone ring but he doesn’t answer it.

It’s a few days later when Steve knows he needs more. Needs to physically get over him.

That’s when he meets Cathy.

It’s easy. Flirting with her. Having a date that leaves him feeling less than satisfied.

Taking her home is even easier when the numbness settles over him.

As she snores in his bed, Steve can’t help but lay awake in the aftermath. He feels dirty. He feels wrong. He wants to throw up.

His doorbell rings, and the girl in his bed groans a bit. Steve doesn’t care. He gets his boxers back on and makes his way down the stairs to his front door.

He opens it without thinking. Of course it’s Eddie.

He stands on the other side of the door with a bag of takeout from Steve’s favorite restaurant. But Steve is only looking at the expression on his face. Scared. Hopeful. Confused.

Before Steve can say anything a female voice calls out, “Steve?”

Steve watches at the realization dawns over Eddie’s face his eyes trailing down to his neck where Cathy’s lip stick had smeared.

“I’ll be right there, don’t worry,” Steve calls back as he walks out the front door and closes it behind him. “Eddie…”

“Don’t,” Eddie says colder than ever and it feels like a knife in Steve’s heart.

Steve just stands there staring at Eddie and tries to not let himself get choked up. “We both knew this couldn’t last, Eds. But I-” he pinches at his nose. “I didn’t ever want to hurt you. Just know that. I didn’t ever want that. Please, Eddie.” He doesn’t know why he’s begging but he can’t help it. Hurting Eddie is one of the worst things he could ever do, but trying to go against society was even worse in his mind.

In the moment it doesn’t feel like that though.

“Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t know it wouldn’t last?” Eddie asks with his voice breaking. “But hey, I guess it’s not like you ever gave me a reason to think that, right?” He shakes his head and drops the bag. “Don’t call me again great King Steve.”

Steve can’t help but call out his name again but Eddie is already walking away.

“It’s for the best,” Steve chants under his breath as he watches Eddie drive away. “It’s for the best,” he says as he goes up his stairs.

“Why was The Freak here?” Cathy asks half asleep.

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says as he climbs into bed as if his life didn’t just end.

It’s for the best.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddieweek2023 #angst #stranger things

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redheadspark · 8 months

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Halloween Prompt Session

Hello Lovelies!

It is officially Autumn AND October (Although in some places, it's still summer temperature wise). I'm beyond excited for Autumn since it's my favorite season! With Halloween right around the corner, I figured we would jump right into a Prompt Sesison to celebrate!

This Prompt's Theme is:

Halloween

Here are my rules:

1.) You may choose ONE character from my list Here. It’ll have the list of characters that I write for or have written for in the past.

*(If you have a character not listed that you wish for me to write, PLEASE MESSAGE ME AND CLEAR IT WITH ME FIRST TO SEE IF I CAN OR WILL DO IT!)*

2.) There are Two Prompt lists for this session, and since the list is rather large, please provide BOTH the numbers you would like (You can pick one from each list) AND the character to pair it with.

PLEASE LABEL THE RIGHT NUMBER TO THE RIGHT LIST WHEN REQUESTING!!

Example: May I have Aziel from ACOTAR with #5 dialogue and #16 action?

*I write out the requests as a first come first serve. I will try my best to fulfill every request that comes my way, but please bear in mind I work full-time as a teacher. Because of that, I’ll be busy most of the day so please be patient and I’ll write in my spare time as much as I can :) *

3.) If I get two requests that are exactly the same, (same character and same number) I will only write it once! Please don't be afraid to ask if someone has already requested the character and number, I don't mind answering that for you :)

4.) You can request in my ASK box neither as yourself or anonymously. Although I would LOVE to give you a shout if you request as yourself, anon is perfectly fine!

5.) I will stop taking requests for this prompt session on Sunday, October 15th, at 3:00pm PST (Pacific Standard Time)

6) Have fun and enjoy :)

This Prompt List was created by @scealaiscoite

-ˏˋ. dialogue ˊˎ-

"what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

"I really appreciate that you're getting into the Halloween spirit, but it's ten in the morning. please turn off the slasher films so I can eat my breakfast in peace."

"ah, you've made the mistake in thinking that just because this is a couples/family costume that you get any kind of say in it. you don't, actually."

"I love you, I swear I do, but we're not wearing matching costumes."

"you're like the toughest person I know! am I really supposed to believe that a horror film is enough to have you cowering into my lap?"

"stop squirming, you're gonna mess up your face paint!"

"not to rain on your parade or anything, but since when are gingerbread haunted houses a thing?

"Please, I'm begging you. don't make me watch the nightmare before Christmas again."

"Should I be worried that you know how to replicate fake blood this well? i probably should be, right?"

"come on, if there was ever a time for me to be superstitious it's definitely now."

-ˏˋ. actions / scenarios ˊˎ-

carving pumpkins together

. having a scary movie marathon

going to questionable lengths to decorate their house/apartment

passing out candy to trick-or-treaters

throwing a Halloween party

going to a carnival/fair

comforting the scaredy cat amongst them

putting an inordinate amount of effort into planning their costume

going to a pumpkin patch

laying wide awake at night after watching a horror movie that left them unnerved

Remember, I will not take requests after 3:00 pm PST on Sunday, October 15th,

Thanks and happy Requesting!

Tagging - @a-lumos-in-the-nox @botanicalbarnes @heliosphere8 @virtueassassin @ethereal-athalia @heartofwritiing @valeridarkness @pemberlyy @saradika

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nerdish-simp · 1 year

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my wishlist for the next 2 heartstopper seasons (mostly s2 tho)

nick saying "char" on a regular basis

THE I LOVE YOU SCENE IN VOLUME 4

mORE ISSAC ABSOLUTELY SLAY QUEENING

lots n lots of mr. ajayi and mr. farouk moments bc i love them

A SLOW DANCE SCENE W NICK AND CHARLIE, ALICE PLEASE, I'M BEGGING ON MY KNEES

nick or charlie (or both) playing with the other's hair while they're cuddling

'everywhere' by fleetwood mac playing during the paris trip (legit "i wanna be with you anywhere" is perfect for it)

on the topic of music, more girl in red during tara/darcy scenes

plus dayglow, clairo, and current joys, i think some of their songs would fit really well with the heartstopper vibe

nick and charlie making out in the storage room and getting caught by coach singh at some point

sarah getting mad at david and full-on yelling at him bc he's a dick and deserves it

bonus points if stéphane is also mad (during the dinner scene)

speaking of people who deserve things... something bad needs to happen to ben

gay jokes pls

cute tori and charlie sibling moments (to make up for the absence of oliver)

i wanna see charlie make friends at the hospital and more about his time there (even though ik i'm gonna cry)

NICK MAKING TAO WATCH THE MARVEL MOVIES JFKLAFJLKS

nellie and henry!!!!!!!

DARCY AND THE VODKA SCENE

nick and charlie decorating the christmas tree

them baking too

tori's haircut bc she'd look so good with it

also tao having a better haircut bc the one in s1 does not work bbg

aLSO when tori kicks david's phone

NICK SPEAKING FRENCH NICK SPEAKING FRENCH NICK SPEAKING FRENCH

elle doing art bc as an artist, i love it

a nonbinary character, or at least a character that uses they/them pronouns

nick and imogen being besties pls pls pls

ayayayay ik you're not gonna see this but @heartstoppercomic @aliceoseman

#osemanverse #heartstopper #heartstopper season 2 #nick nelson #charlie spring #tara jones #darcy olsson #elle argent #tao xu #isaac henderson #imogen heaney #nick x charlie #tara x darcy #elle x tao #isaac x his books #wishlist #i'm so exciiiited #drop the trailer netflix #netflix

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fizzyxcustard · 2 years

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Betrayal (15)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: Crossover of Spooks and Pilgrimage (Modern AU)

Pairings: Lucas North x OC/Raymond de Merville x OC

Warnings: Love triangle. Angst. Language. Sexual references/language. Cheating. Stalking. Some spoilers from season 9.

Summary: Amy Holland is Lucas North’s girlfriend of six months. Amy is aware of his job as an MI-5 agent and supports him. However, Lucas’ cousin, Raymond de Merville, has always loved Amy and uses their one night stand together as leverage for something more.

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in. I’m gradually removing people from my tag lists who do not interact.

I also want to thank everyone who has stuck with me so far through this fic. I know it’s probably very different from my normal kind of work and it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but your encouragement and support has been amazing, those of you who have shared in this writing journey with me. Again, thank you.

If you enjoy this fic, please remember that a reblog is always much appreciated and helps us writers out immensely with getting our fics circulated. <3

Lucas glared at Amy and then Raymond, his jaw still clenched. "You're going to come with me, Aim. No arguments. It's not safe." His voice was low and stern. The edge of it made a shiver race up Amy's spine.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, Lucas," Amy insisted. She moved over to Raymond, who was now on his feet, and she took his hand.

Lucas saw the gesture between Raymond and Amy, and chuckled wryly. "I should have known, Ray. From the very beginning when I met her, I should have known that you'd find a way in and ruin everything."

"She was prepared to stay with you, John, but you're the one who has fucked everything up. I won't let you pull her into all of this mess with Vaughan. She deserves better than that."

Lucas reached into the back of his jeans and pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at Raymond. "Come with me, Aim. Now! Come with me or I put a bullet between his eyes. He's already on the grid's watchlist, so I can easily make up some excuse for killing him."

"No," Amy said defiantly. She stepped in front of Raymond. "You won't shoot me." Her heart was thundering in her chest, and the blood racing through her body was pounding loudly in her ears.

"Come with me," Lucas urged again, stepping closer. This time he lowered the gun and approached Amy, grabbing her arm.

Raymond immediately lunged out from behind Amy and grabbed Lucas' right arm which was holding the gun. Both men grappled with the weapon, until it fell out of Lucas' hand.

Amy scrambled for the gun and pointed it at Lucas, who was now in a headlock by Raymond. "Just leave us alone, Lucas," she begged. "You've brought all of this upon yourself. Let him go."

Reluctantly, Raymond let go of Lucas and shoved him away.

Lucas looked up at Amy, tears swimming in his eyes. "All I've ever done is love you...But you had to choose him over me."

"Don't....please...." Amy whispered. Pain hit her in the chest and all that guilt and shame she had tried so hard to bury came back full force. It rendered her breathless.

The next couple of seconds were a complete whirlwind. Lucas dashed at Amy and grabbed the gun from her limp hand, then dragged her towards him, pointing the barrel of the gun at her head.

Raymond stood completely still, his eyes locked on Amy. Her face was contorted in pain and terror.

Suddenly Amy kicked outward, the heel of her foot aiming into Lucas' knee. He shouted in pain, buckling behind her. But as he descended to the ground, he saw Raymond come closer.

A gunshot racked through the air.

Raymond collapsed to the floor with a loud thump.

Amy run to Raymond and dropped to the floor with him, hovering over him.

Lucas stepped closer, looking down at his ex and cousin. "You could have just come with me and made this easy, Aim. You did this to him."

"Fuck you!" Amy spat.

By the time the police and paramedics arrived, Lucas had already disappeared, knowing that any further fighting to get Amy to accompany him was futile. There was no way she would leave Raymond. She would rather die with Raymond than be safe with Lucas.

Raymond was unconscious as he was put into the back of an ambulance, the bullet having pierced through his stomach. Amy remained beside him, holding his hand while the sirens blared and the paramedics made sure he survived the journey.

***

Amy remained in the waiting room for hours, checking the clock, crying, and asking for updates on Raymond. Finally, after five hours, a young doctor came into the room.

"Are you Miss Holland, here with Mr de Merville?" he asked, looking at her through thick, black rimmed spectacles.

"Yes."

"He's just got back from surgery and the bullet has been removed successfully with no complications. The police do want to talk to you both about what happened. Raymond is awake if you want to go and see him."

However, just as Amy got up from her seat, a lady whom she recognised from the ward reception came into the room. "I have a call here for you, Miss Holland. The man wouldn't say who he is."

Amy's chest tightened. "Oh?"

"He needs to talk to you about the events of today."

Terror racked Amy, but she stepped out into the corridor nonetheless and approached the telephone with trepidation. The receptionist handed the receiver to her.

"Hello?" Amy said, her voice quivering.

"We know where Lucas is and will be sending an officer to come and talk to you. Stay at the hospital. We know that Raymond is innocent."

Then whoever was on the phone terminated the call.

Amy furrowed her eyebrows for a second and then turned her attention back to Raymond. He needed her now. As for Lucas, he could rot for all she cared.

Raymond was now in a room all to himself. Machines beeped and tubes seemed to be attached to him all over. Despite having just gone through emergency surgery, he smiled as Amy entered the room.

She got to the side of his bed and broke down into tears.

"Shhh. It's okay," he cooed, and cupped her cheek.

Amy leaned over the side of the bed and kissed Raymond. "I love you." she whispered.

***

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#Richard Armitage #Spooks #Pilgrimage #Crossover #Modern AU #Raymond de Merville #Raymond de Merville x OC #Modern Raymond de Merville #Lucas North #Lucas North x OC #MI-5 #John Bateman

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thranduilsperkybutt · 2 years

Photo

💍 Glimpse of Us 💍

Gif sources: 1 | 2

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Reader; Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings: MAJOR SEASON 4 VOLUME 2 SPOILERS; angst; crying; grief; marital troubles; brief mentions of OC children (I know, shocker coming from me); emotional trauma; mentions of canon-typical events & blood; short instance of drinking/drunkenness; arguing; bittersweet ending

Word Count: 5,773 words

Reader Gender: Female

Author: Meg

Summary: Said I'm fine and said I moved on; I'm only here passing time in her arms, hoping I'll find a glimpse of us. A series of events following the aftermath of the worst day of your life, and how Steve Harrington picks up the pieces that are left of you.

A/N: Committing myself for female hysteria after the events of volume 2--- that’s right, we’re bringing that diagnosis back, because I’m losing my mind. 😭😭😭 THIS IS NOT A FIX-IT FIC. THIS IS SIMPLY A COPING FIC.

Numbness is what despair feels like, when you’re wrapped in the all-black exhaustion of it. Too lost in the dull ache to shed another tear, staring down at the ring on your finger. Turning it with your thumb. The small gold band was accompanied by an equally modest stone settling, but it was worth more than anything else you own, if only in sentimentality, and that is what makes you feel the most guilty right now. It’s been years, but as much as you’ve tried to put that life behind you, you remember it like it was just yesterday.

— 💍 —

“He’d asked me for it a couple weeks ago,” Wayne Munson had said that day that you sat on his couch in the desolate emptiness that gripped the trailer which had once been so full of life. “Couldn’t rightly figure out why he wanted his mother’s ring after all this time, and I had to dig around to find it, but I think I know, now.”

The older man had simply placed it in your hand. There hadn’t been a box. There had been no knee to bend down upon. There was no question to give your answer to, but you knew what your answer would’ve been, all the same.

There was just you and Wayne, swallowed up by the grief that would always tie the two of you together, far more than his words ever could, “That boy always loved you. He didn’t talk much about it, but even I could see that much.” You were crying softly, as you slipped it on, and it fit perfectly, as if it were always meant to be placed on your ring finger, which was somehow worse than if it hadn’t. Wayne struggled through his words, having to pause between them with the emotion in his own throat, black suit jacket shifting with his anxious fidgeting, “It’s yours, now. You’ll always be family, to me… I know it’s what… what Eddie would’ve wanted. You were good to him, so thank y—”

“Don’t,” you’d interrupted, choking around a sob, tears falling onto your own black dress. Wayne didn’t know the truth of it. He didn’t know how you’d left him there. Wayne had to bury an empty casket, all because you didn’t fight hard enough. “Don’t thank me—”

“No, you made him happy, these last couple months—”

“Please,” you beg, heart breaking with every word. Shutting your eyes so tightly, because you can barely see past your tears as it is. Whispering, “I couldn’t save him—”

He had taken your hand, then. The one the engagement ring was on, squeezing your hand. Unknowing of what to say, but perhaps there was nothing at all. He was crying, too, as much as Wayne Munson tried not to.

You’d both sat there for a long while, or perhaps only minutes, and you’d known then that missing Eddie Munson was something that had seeped into your soul. You’d never shake it, and the way Wayne tried to comfort you through his own debilitating grief only made it worse.

When he had collected himself enough to promise, “You’ll always be welcome here,” you could only think about how you wished you weren’t. You wished he could turn you away, because that would be easier than mourning Eddie in the emptiness of his room. Taking the few things that you had left there back with you, and maybe if Wayne had met you with more animosity, you could have grieved Eddie in a way that allowed you to move on.

But you’d been destined to live in the past, ever since he died.

— 💍 —

You pull the ring from your finger, older, but none the wiser. It’s been nearly seven years since Eddie passed, and maybe Steve was right. Turning your eyes towards the bedside table, at the decorative plate where you’ve already rested your more formal wedding rings, you know he is.

You were still just as in love with Eddie Munson, as that night you’d refused to leave his side. That’s the worst part, the truth.

— 💍 —

Blood had covered your hands, your shirt, with how tightly you gripped Eddie to you. He was getting cold as Dustin screamed at you to get up, to move from your place on the street that you had ended up. The boy was too hurt to drag you off of Eddie, and you had long since dissolved into an endless stream of sobs, cheek pressed against the crown of his head.

Any attempt you’d made at CPR had failed when your arms did, the burn in them aching even worse after the fact of your attempt at dragging the man back towards the gate. You weren’t thinking about the danger, about the risk that surrounded you and the nearly-inconsolable boy begging you to come back with him through the gate.

It’s how Steve, Robin, and Nancy came upon you, sobbing as you held onto Eddie’s lifeless form, while Dustin weakly tried to pull you up by the arm. They tried to talk to you, tried to get you to hear reason, but there was no sense to it.

There was only the blind, hysterical hope of denial that if you held him, he would somehow be alright.

Steve had grabbed you under your arms, breath warmer than Eddie would ever be again, “You have to let him go,” and you’d screamed when he dragged you away.

“I can’t leave him! I can’t—!”

“You have to! We have to go! He’s gone—!” Steve had choked out, wrestling you to your feet as you fought him every step of the way.

“Leave me here!” you had begged in your mindless hysteria, but Steve’s grip was firm, as he wrapped his arms around your waist to hoist you towards the trailer, out of the street. “Please, Steve, just leave me! Let me stay with him!”

“I can’t, you know I can’t—!”

It felt like you had already died, as the vision of Eddie’s body blurred behind your tears, dissolving into incoherent, gut-wrenching screams, while Robin tried her best to help Steve all but manhandle you back into the trailer. Nancy handled the limping Dustin, but your legs had all but stopped working with the overwhelming sea of emotion that washed over you in that moment.

Sobbing, “No—! No, please—!” as you abandoned him there.

Steve, stopping your fight in its tracks when you find yourself inside the trailer, straightening you with a firm shake on your shoulders, tears brimming in his own eyes as he screams at you to come to your senses, “I can’t leave you here! You know I can’t leave you here! Come on!”

“Steve,” it sobs, broken, in the back of your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks at their own accord, and your old friend drags you into his arms.

“I know, but we have to go. He,” Steve swallows, “he wouldn’t want you to stay here.”

As much as you knew it was true, you hated him for it.

But you left him there.

— 💍 —

Had you ever forgiven Steve for saving your life that day? Was that the reason you put him through hell, now? Did you even realize you had done it, at all?

You’ve told yourself you’ve moved on. That the part of you who had loved Eddie Munson with your whole heart had been able to step aside when you fell in love with Steve. That, just maybe, she could bury herself deep enough that loving him would be enough to forget.

Truth be told, she was closer to the surface than you’d ever wanted to admit, and Steve had every right to feel like he did about it.

After all, he was your husband, not Eddie.

— 💍 —

“Uncle Wayne,” you’d smiled, seeing him again after all this time. Three years, and he was finally back in Hawkins, if only for a little while. The diner was bustling, but the dark-haired baby on your hip seemed to be the only thing Wayne could keep his eyes on when you slid into the booth across from him. “Sorry I’m late, but getting ready takes longer these days.”

“I can imagine, with a little one. I didn’t know you’d had the baby yet?” he’d asked, leaning back in his booth. The years had worn on him, as much as the grief had, and he looked in worse health, “I guess I’ve been gone for longer than I thought. Time gets away from me, these days. Trying to focus on work.”

“Yeah, he’s almost one now,” you chuckled. “Steve would’ve come, but he’s working today.”

“That’s alright,” Wayne reached for his coffee, sipping it. “Just tell him I said, ‘hello,’ if I’m not able to see him before I hit the road again.”

“Actually… I have something to tell you,” you began, brushing the baby’s hair along his forehead with your hand, while he tried to catch your dangling bracelet. Wayne’s eyes focus on the movement, at the three rings settled there along your fingers. You wore them every day, now. The wedding band Steve had slipped onto your finger the day of your wedding, along with the engagement ring he’d given you back in those earlier days of your relationship. The smaller, older ring, though, that was the same one Wayne had given you, that day after the funeral, in his trailer.

“Oh?” Wayne hummed curiously, eyes darting away, out the window beside where you sat, “What is it?”

“Steve and I hope you don’t mind. I would’ve asked first, but I couldn’t get a hold of you,” you had worried, nervously stroking your son’s head, before catching the stare Wayne finally cast upon you once more, “We named him Edward James Harrington, after Eddie.”

Wayne’s coffee cup had clamored against the table, when he fumbled it in his hands, but he recovered quickly. He’d always had to.

“What?” he had breathed softly, swallowing thick, as he looked down to the dark-eyed baby boy who would always look more like Steve than you. In another world, that might have been Eddie’s, and you both know it. It’s left unsaid, but in the way Wayne’s eyes had softened when he looked at the child, it’s clear as day. “You… named him after… Eddie?” If Wayne’s poker face was any less practiced, you would’ve seen the tears that threatened to brim in his eyes, “Now… you didn’t have to do that.”

Reaching across the table, you caught the hand he’d rested alongside his coffee cup in yours, rings brushing against his skin when you gave him a squeeze, “Of course we did.”

And you might as well have still been that same nineteen-year-old who had left him food for supper after a night spent planning Dungeons and Dragons campaigns with his nephew, because you still managed to touch his heart after all these years, “You know… I think Eddie would be happy, to know y’all still cared about him.”

“We’ll always care about him, Wayne,” you’d tried to keep your breathing steady, while the baby in your lap cooed. “He saved Steve’s life, and… and he saved mine in more ways than one.”

You were glad the regret hadn’t been so audible in your voice this time, if only for the sake of the person you were supposed to have become by now. The truth, though, is that you could’ve been an entirely different person, if Eddie had been there to sit beside you. You’re sure Wayne already knows, though, how you would have answered the question, if Eddie ever had the chance to ask it.

But Hawkins had different plans.

— 💍 —

The ring is warm from a day’s worth of wearing it, as it sits in the palm of your hand. The ache in your heart is tethered to the band of it, and the knowledge of what you need to do doesn’t make actually doing it any easier.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, opening the drawer of your bedside table to place the ring there. You don’t know who you’re apologizing to. Is it Eddie, or is it yourself, for never having allowed yourself to move past this?

Any taste of happiness you have achieved these past seven years has always been tinged with the hint of grief, and that, well… That was only ever your fault.

There’s no more looking back. You can’t afford it, not after the events of this past week. Not when your marriage was nearly in shambles because of it.

You’ll have to choose, and really, Steve’s waited long enough.

— 💍 —

It took a couple of months, but you had effectively pushed everyone away. Distanced yourself from your friends, your family— too consumed by the grief of losing Eddie to do much else. The reality was, you were going through the motions of living, rather than actually living.

The worst part of it all wasn’t the senselessness of it. It wasn’t even the fact that Eddie had died trying to save a town that still hated him, that called him a murderer, a satanist, to this very day.

No, the worst part was the fact that the world kept on going without him. That you had to keep on going without him.

If you had been able to crawl into that empty casket all those months ago, you would’ve done it. Part of you wished you’d died beside him, back in the Upside Down. Many a night you’d cursed Vecna, the whole town of Hawkins, and even Steve, for the result of you being here today when he wasn’t.

It was as low as you’ve ever been in your life, those months immediately following his death, and maybe you were to blame for that. If you hadn’t been so verbal in your defense of Eddie, perhaps the people of Hawkins wouldn’t have turned their ire onto you. If you hadn’t made it so hard for the people around you to help you, maybe it wouldn’t have taken so long before Steve had all but forced his way into your apartment.

Seeing the state of neglect evidenced by the clutter of your home, only served to break Steve’s heart further, “You can’t go on like this.” He’d said your name in a pitiful way, but you hadn’t wanted his pity then. His pity only made you angrier.

“How am I supposed to go on, Steve?” you had been all teeth, biting back at the man who’d been your friend, even before Eddie had ever come into your life. “Like you? Like everyone else in this god-forsaken town that can just forget?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Steve stepped towards you, and you’d avoided the hand he’d attempted to catch you with, pushing him away.

“You don’t care! No one cares about Eddie! He died for a town full of idiots who never even bothered to get to know him!” you shouted, “Eddie died for all of you and you didn’t even go to the funeral, Steve! The only people there were me, Wayne, and Dustin!” It’s not fair to blame him for everything, but he’s the only one trying, and that makes him the only one left to blame, “Why weren’t you there?!”

He doesn’t have an answer. Not one that he can tell you.

He can’t tell you that he didn’t go, because in some deep, dark part of himself, he was filled with some bizarre acceptance of Munson’s death. That, after the past year of watching you fall in love with Eddie while he’d been standing right beside you for even longer than that, Munson dying had been something he could never be completely bereaved about.

Steve had wanted to be the last man standing when it came to you, but never like this.

Not when you were left so broken in the aftermath of it. Not when he couldn’t pick up the pieces of you that were left without them being haunted by Eddie Munson.

So, he stayed silent, as you raged at him, knowing only how to reach towards you to pull you against him, letting you hit weakly at his chest as tears burst from your eyes all over again, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

Munson just had to go and die, instead of breaking your heart in any other, recoverable way.

Steve knows it’s a selfish thought to have, before he even dares to think it, but as you dissolve into his arms, and he holds you so tightly to him that he’s afraid he might break you all over again, he can’t help himself.

“I’m here—” Steve’s breathing shook, “We’re here— Robin and me. You don’t have to do this all alone.” Your fists had relaxed against his chest, fingers instead grasping into his yellow sweater to hold onto him for dear life as you grieved against his shoulder.

It’s only the tip of the iceberg, when you finally managed to sob, “They… they vandalized my car.” The red spray-paint along the sides of your beat-up Chevy is nothing compared to the mountain of grief that threatens to rip you apart from the inside out, but you focus on the mistreatment instead. It’s easier to talk about, to blame your tears on how the people of Hawkins viewed you these days, rather than how utterly alone you felt without Eddie.

The ghost of his presence still lingered, even when his scent had faded from the shirts of his that Wayne had allowed you to keep, and with each passing day, you were terrified that his memory would fade, too.

So, you focus on the vile words they’d labeled you with, all because you’d dared to speak up. To tell them that they were wrong about Eddie Munson. That he wasn’t a killer, or a cult leader, like they all said.

Defying popular opinion was all it took to earn The Devil’s Whore scrawled along the side of your car in red paint, and as much as Steve wished he could make it all go away, this was too big for even him.

“I know… I saw,” Steve murmured, pulling you back just enough to watch you blink up through your tears at him, brushing the hair that stuck to your damp cheeks away, along with the tears. “Let me help you clean it off, okay?”

You felt far from okay, but you tried to swallow it down, and instead nodded, “Okay.”

— 💍 —

Turns out, Steve was the one out of the two of you who was truly capable of bottling up his emotions. He’d hid his hurt so well, so completely, that you’ve been so oblivious of it for all these years. Not realizing how your lingering grief had seemed to wound him, was perhaps your biggest regret.

It might sound stupid to be jealous of a dead man, but if it was stupid, then you were the worst of all for making him feel that way. For making him question the life you’ve made together— the life that Eddie can never give you.

When Steve had once talked about his dream of a white picket-fence life, filled with a brood of little Harrington children, you never quite thought you’d find yourself in the middle of it. You had been so foolish, back then, to have never realized that he was talking about you, when he told you about that dream.

You were just as foolish now, because how could you not have realized how in love with you he had been, even back then?

The thought that you’ve somehow tainted his dream, is the most excruciating heartbreak you’ve ever felt.

— 💍 —

When Wayne died, you were surprised to find he’d left you what little he had left. Years of grief and hard work could do damage to a heart, and his was more burdened than most.

Steve had helped as you made the arrangements, always the dutiful husband. By your side as you laid Wayne to rest beside Eddie, in that little cemetery you still visited to clean the tombstone which had seen more vandalism than any brick wall in downtown Hawkins. The two of your children who were old enough to stand beside you had clung to your black skirt, while you grieved the fact that they would never get to know how good a man Wayne Munson truly was.

It was a day that had brought back too many memories, and too much grief. Losing Wayne was losing Eddie all over again, because your final tether to that boy had been put in the ground, just like everything else.

You hadn’t realized that it had brought up memories for Steve, too, until it was too late.

Steve was generally a pleasant person, and in all honesty had been your rock for these past seven years. Through the immediate aftermath of day-to-day life without Eddie, to the nights you spent waking up in a cold sweat from the dreams of that night he’d died, Steve had been there. Through everything, he had treated you with this gentle, patient hand, but that night when you emerged into the kitchen of your suburban, white picket-fenced home, the patient, doting Steve was not the same man who sat at your breakfast table with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“I just put Eddie and the other kids down,” you had gone straight to the sink, moving to wash the dishes from your dinner earlier as you glanced towards your husband.

“His name is Edward,” Steve bit, the bottle in his hands almost empty, “Not Eddie.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you abandoned the dishes to march towards him, taking the bottle from his grip before he could bring it to his lips once again, “You really had to try to finish this bottle, today of all days? Wayne just died—!”

Steve reached for it again, snatching it from where you’d set it on the table, only to shrug as he took another swig, “I figured I’d finally take the excuse to.”

“‘Finally?’” you scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means,” he was angry, despite how his voice remained level, and you couldn’t for the life of you realize why. You’d been so blind.

“You need to put down the bottle, Steve. You’re not making any sense.”

“Maybe I’m just finally thinking clearly,” he starts, the chair scraping against the tile as he pushes back from the table to stand up, moving towards you. “All this time, I’ve had my blinders on. Thinking one day you’ll someday be over Eddie Munson, but it’s been seven years, so that’s never going to happen, is it?” His voice was rising, frustration in his dark eyes, mixing with a hurt that he’d kept from you so perfectly until now. “Shit, Wayne just died, and you’re still carrying that damn torch—”

“You’re drunk, Steve,” the disgust is evident in your voice, as you try to brush off his words with that simple excuse, but he just comes closer.

“And you’re in love with him still! You think I can’t see it?” Steve shouted, reaching out to grip your arm just enough to bring your left hand between the two of you, “You’re wearing his ring!” When you jerked your arm back, he let you go, though the fire in his eyes holds you still, “I’m your husband! Eddie never was!”

“You think I don’t know that, Steve?” the sting of his words drives your own brewing anger, and you’re past regulating your tone, “You think I don’t know that I never got to marry Eddie?!” You didn’t even realize how your words had slipped into the truth, aided by the heat of the moment and your fresh grief, “You make it so hard to love you sometimes, Steve!”

“That’s rich,” he scoffed bitterly, “considering our son is a constant reminder of how much you love Eddie Munson!”

He’s saying things that hurt just for the sake of hurting, but there’s a truth to his own words, just as much as there is to yours, “Don’t you dare act like this is all on me! Eddie was your friend, too, Steve!”

“Yeah, and I wanted you the whole time! I loved you first, don’t you realize that? I was there before him, and I loved you before Munson ever had the chance to,” the ringing in your ears was from more than just how loud the two of you had become, “But he was always your first choice, right? He still is!” Steve’s chuckle is dry, bitter, and you can smell the liquor on his breath as he steps even closer, “Sometimes I wonder, if Eddie had never died, would you have ever even given me a chance?”

“How can you even say that to me?”

“Tell me I’m wrong!” he was begging as much as he was fighting, venom dripping from his words in an attempt for you to feel even a fragment of what he had felt for far too long, “Tell me you’ve ever loved me as much as you loved him!”

You had been so taken back by his words, that you couldn’t say anything at all, but that was perhaps the worst thing you could’ve done.

If looks could kill, Steve’s glare would have buried you in that very moment, “Maybe if I’d been the one to die that day, Eddie would be the one standing here, having to wonder that same thing! I guess it’s a good thing he took the easy way out, becau—”

The sound of your slap had been just as loud as your shouting match, reverberating around the kitchen while his face turned a bright, angry shade of red. The palm of your hand stung, but not as much as the straining pain in your chest did, and as tears softly fell from your eyes, Steve knew he’d gone too far.

Sobered for the moment by your slap, regret washing through the both of you. You hadn’t truly meant to hit him, but you’d done it all the same. He hadn’t meant to say things so cruel, but the words had fallen from his lips with all the loose-tongued rage that liquor could fuel. In the beat that it takes for his dark eyes to cast upon you again, watching you cry in the middle of the kitchen of this house you’ve worked so hard to earn together, part of him wants to apologize, but there’s too much pride— and too much truth to his words, to allow it.

You turned away from him, intent on storming back to your bedroom, but the sight lingering in the open arch to the kitchen stops you in your tracks.

Your oldest son and daughter, standing there with wide, frightened eyes, look back at the two of you. So tiny in the doorway, and yet filled with emotions that were much too big for children of their age. You don’t know how much of your fight they’ve witnessed, but the pit in your stomach only swells at the thought that they’d seen any of it at all.

“What are you two doing up?” wiping your tears, you moved across the tile, picking your daughter up into your arms while you ushered Edward through the doorway, “Let’s get you back to bed.”

A glance was all you spared for Steve, and it was all you needed to see how wrecked he had been by your children's interruption. This wasn’t who either of you wanted to be. You couldn’t be these people you’ve become, not now.

Not when there was more at stake than just your shaky relationship.

He watched you leave the kitchen with the kids, before bringing a hand up to run through his hair, cursing as he leant on the countertop with the weight of the crushing grief that threatened to swallow him whole. When he reflectively brings the bottle up, to take another sip, he pauses, glaring at the amber contents within the glass, before turning towards the sink and dumping the rest of it there.

Eddie Munson’s been dead for years, and somehow he still feels like an obstacle between you.

— 💍 —

You buried Wayne days ago, now, and since then you and Steve have been dancing around the eggshells of the pieces of each other that you had stripped apart in the kitchen that night. Sleeping alone is something you haven’t been used to since before you married Steve, and you don’t like the feeling of the cold space beside you, knowing he’s on the couch instead. You know you can’t keep going on like this, not when there’s a whole life that you have left to live with Steve.

A whole life left to live without Eddie Munson.

Staring down into the drawer of your bed-side table, you take one last lingering glance at the ring there, and all it represents. All the missed chances, and the dreams that had died when Eddie did. Shutting the drawer, you instead reach for the wedding band that Steve had given you that day you’d been all dressed in white, and Robin had cried as your maid of honor.

When had Steve’s dream become your dream? Somewhere in the time you spent grieving the dreams you’d made with Eddie, certainly, but the truth was, you had fit yourself into this life just as easily as Eddie’s mother’s engagement ring had fit on your finger.

You were meant to be here, with Steve, and your little brood of Harringtons. In this life, you had only ever been meant to stand here as Mrs. Harrington. Whatever piece of you that had once wished to be Mrs. Munson would be buried beside him, because you can’t keep fighting for a past that will never exist again.

All you can do now, is hope that you haven’t already messed up the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open catches your attention, and you slide your wedding rings back onto your finger. It’s strange, and there’s a bittersweet absence that comes with the lack of your third ring, but the sight of Steve standing in the doorway quells any second-thoughts about what you know you have to do.

He swings the door awkwardly, listening to it squeak again, “I should probably fix that, one of these days.”

You know it’s his way of extending an olive branch. You’ve known him in ways you would never know anyone else, and you don’t want to lose him, all because of your past.

“Yeah,” you murmur softly, shifting on the bed as he comes closer hesitantly. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Steve makes to sit beside you on the bed, hands coming to his knees like if he doesn’t grip them he’ll risk reaching out to you. You haven’t felt this uncertain in years. Taking for granted just how sure you were of him, of how unconditionally he loved you.

You were done doing that.

“Steve, I’m—”

“I’m so—”

You both speak at the same time, words jumbling together until you huff out a chuckle, reaching to take his hand in yours, and he looks down, catching sight of the rings that reside there, “I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Does this mean,” his thumb brushes over your fingers, turning the ring, and the space where Eddie’s had once been, “I can pack my little rucksack and come home?” There’s a shallow tease on his breath, when his brown eyes dart up to catch yours, but there’s a worry in them. That’s what perhaps makes your heart ache the most, because you want to be as certain for him as he’s been for you.

“Yes, Steve. God, I’ve treated you so terribly, without even realizing it,” your voice shakes, and he gives your hand a squeeze with his own. “I love you. You asked me that night if I loved Eddie.” You try to even your voice, “Yeah, I loved him. I loved him with my whole heart, but,” you reach out, catching him by the side of his jaw, stroking your fingers against the fresh shave there, “I love you, too. This life we’ve created together, that’s something Eddie never can give me. You’re my husband, and Eddie…” Trailing off, you swallow thickly, before, “Eddie’s dead.”

“I’m sorry— I don’t want you to feel like I’m giving you some kind of ultimatum,” Steve starts, but you finish his thought before he can.

“There is no ultimatum, Steve. You’re the one here. You’re the one who’s always been here,” you try to fight the tears that well in your eyes, but you can’t help it. “You’re not a second choice. You’re the man I married, and you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who’s been lost in the past.” Your hand falls from his face, onto the other that he holds, “Sometimes I do still feel like that girl who sat between you and Eddie, that day we were plotting to kill Vecna in his trailer, but I’m not her anymore. I don’t want to be. All I ever want to be now is your wife, and the mom our kids deserve.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, relief evident on his face as he pulls you into his arms, “I’m sorry.” There’s a heavy emotion in his voice, and you finally let the tears fall as you hold him to you, “I’m so sorry for how I acted.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you pull back, when his lips brush against your forehead, seeing his own tears streaming down his face and reaching up to wipe them away, “I’m sorry for ever making you question the way I feel about you.”

Steve nods, pressing his forehead against yours with shut eyes, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you sigh, closing the distance to press your lips against his in a soft, slow kiss that you hope will seal this new chapter in your life with as much certainty as you abandon the last one.

As much as you’ll always have loved Eddie Munson, the version of yourself that you’ve become with Steve’s loving patience is the only life you want to live. At the end of the day, Steve’s the one who made you want to live it.

And you’ll never stop loving him, because he’s the one who saved you, over and over again.

Moving on was easier said than done, but if there was one person you would want by your side through the ugly thick and thin of it, it’s Steve Harrington.

#steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things spoilers #spoilers #female reader insert #stranger things female reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic by me #author meg

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m4tthewmurd0ck · 2 years

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐀, 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 ~ 𝙴𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝙼𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚡 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎) 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 [PREVIEW]

here’s a lil sneak peek of something i’ve been working on :) this is me puttin on my fix it hat, and giving eddie the ending that he deserved. so, this obviously contains spoilers for season 4. this is NOT the full piece, we all know i have no self control when it comes to writing so the actual thing is long as fuck and i hope to have it up soon! this is just the beginning, aka the beginning of your friendship turned relationship with eddie. below the cut, enjoy!

You met on the first day of the school year. Being a new student, word had somehow gotten around that you transferred schools because you failed senior year at your last one. And while that was true, there was a lot more to it than just some bad grades. But you didn’t like to talk about that.

Second class of the day, you slid into a seat in the back row. A boy and a few of his friends walked in, and he loudly ‘whispered’ that everyone should avoid the new girl or the stupid might rub off on them. He even had the nerve to smirk as he spoke, as if he genuinely thought that was such a clever line.

After class, you walked out to find him waiting for you. He looked you up and down, then asked what your name was.

Is this guy fucking serious? You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

“Hey what’s your problem freak?”

Without missing a beat, you turned around and smiled. “I’d rather be a freak than a loser who seems to get joy from being an asshole. I’m gonna go now, but you have the day you deserve.”

Eddie was just down the hall, and he paused when he heard your response. He had never heard someone else refer to themselves as a freak when standing up to someone before. From that moment, he knew he wanted to be your friend. And luck was on his side, because you just so happened to have 3 classes together.

One day at lunch, Mike and Dustin broke the news that Lucas wouldn’t be able to make it to Hellfire due to his ‘balls in laundry baskets’ game. After asking them if he heard them correctly, were they really asking to postpone the campaign rather than find a substitute? They both gulped, shared a single glance, and then said they’d find someone.

After school that day, Mike ran next door to your house. He begged you to come and substitute for one of his friends for a campaign that was in just a few hours. You stood there, arms crossed, wondering how the hell he knew you sometimes played. When you asked him, he said when he noticed someone moving in next door he’d come outside and watched the movers help your family unload boxes. And he immediately noticed the Players Handbook sticking out of a box. Since he didn’t see any other people your age or younger moving in, he assumed that you were an only child and that the book was yours.

You admitted that it was, but you hadn’t actually played in a while. Years ago a kid that used to live next door to you begged you to let him and his friends teach you how to play. Someone in the friend group had moved away, and they were in dire need of someone to take his spot. They actually paid you $20 to let them teach you, and you got pretty good if you did say so yourself (and you did). The book had been a gift when him and his friends found out you were moving. You still flipped through it every once in a while, but said you weren’t sure how it would go. Dustin ran up to you both just then, out of breath as he tried to ask Mike if he asked yet.

“He has, and—”

“Please! I will do anything. I will literally do anything. You’re a senior right? I’ll find a way to do your homework. I’ll wash your car or walk your dog or—”

You cut him off just then, laughing as you said that they were lucky you didn’t have any plans that night.

When you walked in behind them wearing an extra Hellfire Club shirt, Eddie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

So not only were you the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and not only did you not seem to mind being called a freak, but you played Dungeons & Dragons too? God, Eddie was ready to get down on one knee and propose to you right there.

It didn’t take long for you to become good friends. And it didn’t take long for Eddie to admit to himself that he maaay have had a crush on you.

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nicolesixxbooks · 10 months

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13 - Killing Jars

Killing Jars

Jack… The light feminine whisper called through the darkness. Help me, Jack…

I need you.

Jack groaned, getting up from his warm bed despite the protests of his tired body, the urgent and fearful beckoning leading him onward.

Help me, Jack. It continued to beg. Help me, please. Please, please help me, Jack.

The cellar was full of jars. His wife’s growing obsession over canning had started innocently enough, just a few seasonal jams and sauces, but it had grown into a tall pickled archive of vegetables and meats. It was cold in the cellar tonight. Jack could even see his breath frosting over the glasses as he made his way through the stacks of rot and brine.

There, sitting on its own empty case of dust and cobwebs, was a single monarch butterfly. It was a stunning and unearthly creature and Jack let out a gasp despite himself, hesitating in slight awe before drawing near. Her wings were the most brilliant pale blue Jack had ever seen and they transfixed him almost hypnotically as she fluttered around helplessly within the jar.

Help me, Jack. She whispered, the pale frosty vapor of his own breath hanging between them and chasing small crystalline veins of ice up her glass. I need you.

Jack nodded, gently gripping the jar and untwisting the top, watching awestruck and shivering as she flew forth and flitted about, finally returning to land on his trembling pale cheek with the softest of kisses.

Thank you, Jack. She whispered into him, letting him feel the power and soft femineity of her true form. And now I need something else.

“What?” Jack asked, in that moment both her eager champion and slave.

Free me…

Blood, red and slick spilled from the prostitute’s stomach. She had pale saggy skin, marked from age and poor elasticity. She might even have children, waiting like stray kittens for her to come home and prepare them whatever constituted as breakfast in her strained heroin-soaked mind. Jack pulled the knife out, reveling in the shocked little look in those wide painted eyes before she buckled over, clutching weakly at the escaping pool of blood.

She came then, beautiful blue wings gently landing amongst the crimson and burrowing deep inside. The streetwalker cried out, spasming and thrashing against the pavement, her head and eyes rolling back as she convulsed in the orange-lit alleyway.

Then the hooker stopped and lapsed into silence.

Jack glared bitterly as she crawled out from the corpses mouth, fluttering her wings to shake off the blood of the rejected form before coming back to him.

The bodies continued to pile up between them as he searched yearningly for the right vessel, the proper host to once again give her form. Jack needed to save her, needed to make her whole, to make her real.

To free her…

…and yet.

“This isn’t working.” Jack choked, another blood-soaked night ending back at home in the quiet of his room. Too quiet, his wife away on another sales convention, his spirit lover still denied form.

“Nothing works.” He wept bitterly, hurling his knife at the floor like a sullen child, tears bleeding at the corners of his eyes in wet hot frustration. “So many women, not one of them worthy of holding you. Of freeing you.”

Hush. She whispered, kissing at his tears in the darkness without form, turning them into frosty trails of ice. I am patient, so must you be, Jack.

The temperature dropped, and Jack let out a breathy, foggy gasp as his belt slowly undid itself before him, his pants dropping to the floor as he was thrown back and paralyzed to the bed, his invisible paramour now taking full control.

He slept well after his own release, slept, and dreamed of butterflies.

Jack was growing more and more certain his wife had been the vessel they had needed all along. He watched her daily now, buzzing about the kitchen as she grilled him about another week’s activities he had missed. Buzzing, every part of her was the buzz of an insect these days, never standing still, never slowing down long enough to be a real woman. She took her form for granted, the softness of her flesh and hard curves of her body wasted as she flew about him, about the world. The itch to simply force this woman still festered within him, like infected blood or puss needing to be punctured and released.

Needing to be freed.

Even in sleep she was restless, a terror in the bed. Their love making had been passionate, ravenous as always, full of energy that she now continued to burn tossing and turning before him as he loomed nakedly over her at the foot of the bed. The knife was a cool calm gleam in the dark, his breathing paced and ragged, his member hard and erect as he climbed onto the bed and straddled her.

Jack’s wife woke in a groggy disposition and quickly he smothered her mouth with a heavy hand, slicing the knife through her throat and holding her there until she finally went blissfully still beneath him. He gasped, falling back on his knees and wiped the blood off of his face as he panted desperately.

She came, gracefully slipping into the jagged tear of his wife’s throat and then back out causing Jack to utter a painful howl, not of remorse but of impatience.

“No one.” He roared in despair. “No one is good enough. How can these corpses not want you? Can they not see everything you would be offering them? Your beauty? Your light?”

“How can they not love you?” He asked brokenly.

“I do.”

Jack swallowed nervously.

“Take me.” He breathed. “I offer myself.”

“I want you.” He begged, holding his head back and opening his mouth wide.

She flew into him, a choking rush of gagging and freezing wings, then she was within him, writhing and coursing about as he convulsed and thrashed on the bed.

Sweat clung to his brow, and chills raked at his spine as he breathed raggedly.

“Cold.” He breathed foggily into the air. “So cold.”

Jack felt his own hand brush his cheek, as the other stroked his inner thigh. He moved to cover it with the hand at his cheek, and the hand at his thigh squeezed it in loving response.

So long have I waited for a body. She whispered silkily within him, using his own hands to navigate her newfound exploration of his flesh. I have such plans for us, Jackie-Boy.

But for now… She stated huskily, his own hand finding and teasing the growing rigidness of his sex.

Let us just work on warming you up.

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