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teapartyprincess4two · 2 months

Text

Collab- J. Guilbert

pairing: influencer!reader x Johnnie

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, fake relationship, coquette!reader, slight cursing, brief mentions of Johnnie’s ex (just for the plot), Jake and Tara are dating in this

summary: You and Johnnie pretend to date, faking it for so long that it became real.

—

When you first began recording and posting YouTube videos you were only 16 years old. You were just an emo kid trying to make friends on the internet and trying to find people who could relate to you. Eventually, when you turned 18, your videos began gaining a lot of attention. This was the beginning of your YouTube popularity, your views skyrocketing dramatically. Soon you were collabing with other YouTubers who were in the same community as you. Through this you met so many new people, including Johnnie.

You met Johnnie at the peak of his emo boy career. He was posting regular videos and vlogs alongside his girlfriend at the time and the three of you became good friends. Your fans began asking for more videos of you all together, so you would constantly collaborate in order to keep the views coming in. Eventually, you developed a true friendship with Johnnie and his girlfriend so, when the views dropped and your fame disappeared you still continued hanging out.

After a couple of years, Johnnie and his girlfriend broke up and although you were friends with them both, you remained close to Johnnie due to your shared career paths. Years passed where you two were just friends who occasionally collaborated to create content for your loyal viewers. Because Johnnie’s now ex-girlfriend was no longer in the picture, those loyal viewers began shipping the two of you together.

At first you didn’t address it because it was weird and it would make you two incredibly uncomfortable, but eventually you decided to play into the speculations and rumors. At this point you were no longer emo, trading in your dark clothing for a much softer look. Your contrasting aesthetics and the ‘confirmed’ speculation that you two were dating caused your views to skyrocket once again. Johnnie was skeptical of this decision at first, seeing as his last relationship was completely public and on the internet, but once he saw the views it was easy to play along.

Through this decision both yours and Johnnie’s channel had a resurgence, allowing you to meet all the current friends you two hold close. Up until this point, your fans haven’t suspected the truth, even most of your friends haven’t figured out that your relationship isn’t real. Of course there were a few skeptics, but for the most part everyone believed it. Your fans continued making edits and commenting about how much they love you two together while your friends wish they could be in a relationship like yours.

—

You two are now 26 years old and have been playing this game for 2 whole years. Although you haven’t admitted it to your fans yet, some parts of your relationship have become real. You and Johnnie eventually moved in together, just to make your careers easier and because you two truly are best friends now. Plus, you were too far into your lie to back out now.

You’re currently sitting on the couch of your shared home, snuggled up under a thick blanket as you scroll through Netflix on the TV. Johnnie is sitting on the other side of the couch, scrolling mindlessly on his phone while he waits for you to pick something. It was easy to get caught up in small moments with him like this and forget that your relationship isn’t real.

“What about this show?” you ask, hovering over a random show and allowing the quick trailer to play on screen. He looks up from his phone briefly, watching the trailer on the TV. It was an action movie, a genre that you two didn’t make a habit of watching. He looks unamused and returns back to his phone, but not before moving closer to you and snuggling up under your blanket.

“Put something good, bro,” he mumbles as he cuddles into you. You adjust yourself slightly so you’re comfortable, feeling the butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly. Sometimes you wished it was real, that even when the cameras weren’t rolling or you weren’t with friends you two could be a couple. Sure sometimes you’d share clandestine kisses when no one was looking, but you always called those friendly kisses. They didn’t mean anything right?

“I’m trying to find something, but nothings good!” You exclaim, continuing to scroll through the endless queue of movies. He shuffles under the blanket as he pulls it closer to his chest before dramatically taking the remote from you. “Here this is good,” he says haphazardly as he clicks a random movie on your watch list. You were about to protest, but you’ve actually been wanting to watch this movie for a long time. So, instead you just cuddle up closer to him and decide to enjoy this moment.

The movie was actually extremely boring and you fell asleep before the main storyline was even introduced. Johnnie ended up leaving to his room once he realized you were asleep, a part of him wanted to stay, but he promised his fans a Twitch stream tonight.

He’s currently in his room talking to his fans, singing songs they request, reacting to videos they recommend, and answering a lot of questions. “There’s so many people in here I actually can’t even read this shit,” he grumbles as he squints his eyes at the computer screen in front of him, attempting to catch at least one comment. There’s a brief pause as he finds a comment worth replying to.

Finally he catches a comment, reading it aloud instantly, “Where’s Y/n? She’s asleep in the living room. She fell asleep watching the most boring movie ever.” At the mention of your name the comments went even crazier, flooding his chat at lightning speed. “Dude, everytime I mention Y/n my chat goes crazy,” he chuckles as he messes with his settings to slow his chat down.

When his settings are in order, he continues reading, “What movie was it? Umm I don’t know actually, I just picked the first one on her watch list.” So many of the comments were asking for him to wake you up, the fans becoming desperate for more Johnnie and Y/n content. “Guys, stop telling me to wake her up. I’m not going to wake her up. She’s dead asleep, you’ll just have to wait for our next video,” he says, quickly dismissing the fans who were spamming his chat.

“What are you filming?” Johnnie reads before taking a sip of the soda can on his desk. He debated whether or not he should spoil the video, but considering it was a video he did often on his channel he decided to just let the fans know. “We’re switching aesthetics. She’s going to dress me all cute and pink and I’m going to make her look like this,” he gestures to himself with both hands. He was actually dressed very casually and didn’t have any makeup on, but nevertheless his look contrasted significantly from yours.

Even with the adjusted settings the chat is still going crazy, especially after he announced what video you all were filming. “Yeah we’re filming it tomorrow I think,” Johnnie says as he continues reading comments, a lot of them wanting to know exact details about when the video would be posted. “He called her aesthetic cute,” he reads, the comment immediately putting a smile on his face. Of course he called your aesthetic cute, if Johnnie thought you were cute then he surely thought the same of your aesthetic.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend guys, of course I’m going to call her cute,” he continues, a big smile on his face. The fans were definitely going clip that and edit it. Sometimes the word girlfriend still felt foreign, especially considering that your relationship isn’t real, but he loves saying it. Everytime he says it it feels so real. He continues reading comments, all of them asking questions that he’s already answered. It’s easy for him to become bored with his chat so, to keep the stream going, he decides to react to some videos.

“Do Jake and Johnnie bingo,” he reads, immediately knowing that all the comments were going to agree. He doesn’t fight it, instead he pulls up a YouTube video and his digital bingo card. This would make a great YouTube video too, so that’s a plus. He plays two rounds of bingo, filling the card up both times, before deciding he’s done streaming for the night.

He ends the stream and decides to check on you in the living room. You’re still sound asleep, the blanket up against your neck as a make-shift pillow. He smiles at this and decides to join you on the couch again, lifting the blanket slightly so he can cuddle up against you. The sudden movement stirs you from your sleep. “Is the movie over?” you ask through a yawn, subconsciously moving closer to Johnnie in the process.

“Yeah it ended like 4 hours ago,” he replies, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing you in closer. “How long was I asleep?” this time you sound more awake, the realization of how long you slept sobering you up a little, but you’re still very drowsy. “Like 6 hours,” he says nonchalantly with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Was it good?” you ask again, another yawn escaping your lips. “Oh yeah, it’s was great,” he lies, smiling down at you and kissing you quickly before joining you for another nap.

These were the moments you wished were real.

—

The next morning you wake up bright and early in your room, having made your way to your bed sometime during the middle of the night. Johnnie followed you, missing your presence as soon as you got up from the couch. He was still asleep when you woke up and you knew he wouldn’t wake up until much later in the day.

You get ready for the day and go into the kitchen to start breakfast. Once you’re enjoying your meal, you pull your phone out to check your socials. Your Instagram is pretty dead, Twitter is worse, and YouTube has a few notifications of comments and likes left on videos. It isn’t until you open TikTok that you see where all your fans were hiding. Your TikTok was going crazy with comments, likes, and so many people were tagging you in videos. There seems to be a new edit that people are going crazy about.

The edit starts off with Johnnie in his room during last night’s stream, “She’s my fucking girlfriend guys, of course I’m going to call her cute.” Then it transitions to a bunch of cute clips of you two together, most of them being candid moments caught on camera where you were just being Y/n and Johnnie. The sappy love song plays on loop as you rewatch the edit, pausing during certain clips to admire them further. You and Johnnie looked so happy in every single video and if you didn’t know any better, you might think it was really too.

You read the comments on the video that were flooded with fans obsessing over your relationship, they made you smile. You’re stuck in a trance of reading and liking comments, but are interrupted by a loud knock on your front door. You only knew one person bold enough to visit you so early and knock so loudly, Jake.

You get up from the table and walk over to the front door, opening it abruptly to find the one and only culprit. Jake and Tara stand on the other side of the door with goofy smiles on their faces, holding all types of stuff in their hands including bags of food, drinks, and other random things. Much like you, they’re dressed and ready to take on the day.

“Brought you this,” Tara says as she hands you an iced coffee. She smiles at you before making her way inside, Jake following behind her. If they weren’t over at your house all the time you might’ve found their abruptness rude, but they were some of your best friends so their unwarranted arrival was welcomed. “Where’s Johnnie?” Jake asks, placing the bags of food on the kitchen table and searching through them.

“He’s still asleep,” you shut the front door, taking a sip from the coffee Tara brought for you. It was caramel, your favorite. “It’s only 12, he’ll probably wake up at around 2,” you comment again, going back to your previous seat at the kitchen table. Everyone in your friend group was an early riser except for him, so you were used to hanging out with Jake and Tara alone.

“Girl, did you see that edit on TikTok? I keep getting tagged in it,” Tara asks as she takes a seat next to you. Jake hands her her food and continues digging through the various bags in front of him.

Out of all your friends Jake and Tara were the only ones who knew the true nature of your relationship with Johnnie. It was easy to figure out, plus Johnnie accidentally drunkly confessed it to Jake one night. Johnnie was so drunk he didn’t remember admitting it the next day, but Jake went on to tell Tara who couldn’t help herself from asking you for all the details.

Of course, Jake didn’t fully expose Johnnie’s secret to Tara. He purposefully left out the part where Johnnie admitted to actually being in love with you. And when Tara asked you about it you admitted the same thing, but knowing her gossiping tendencies she actually told Jake. So, Jake is the only one out of your friend group who’s aware of yours and Johnnie’s secret feelings for each other.

“Yeah I saw it. It’s a cute edit,” you reply with a shrug, taking another sip of your coffee. You weren’t ready to admit that you just watched it on loop for 20 minutes before their arrival. “I don’t know how you do it. I could NOT fake a relationship for that long,” Tara comments again, taking a bite from her breakfast sandwich. “Seems like a lot of work,” Jake chimes in with a mouthful of food.

At this point, even you didn’t know how you two did it. It was easy at first to only pretend when the cameras were rolling. But, after a while the lines got blurred and you couldn’t even distinguish between reality and fantasy anymore. You found yourself questioning every single thing Johnnie did, trying to decipher whether or not he felt the same as you did.

You were about to respond to her, but the three of you are alerted of Johnnie’s presence as he opens the door to your room abruptly. He sends you guys a sleepy, grumpy glare before walking to the restroom. The three of you share knowing looks, Johnnie’s definitely grumpy because you all woke him up.

Johnnie appears from the bathroom a couple minutes later, grumbling a quick “good morning” to Jake and Tara before walking over to you. He knows he doesn’t have to pretend in front of them, but he can’t stop himself from acting like he’s really your boyfriend. “Why did you leave?” he mumbles lowly as he sits next to you. He looks so cute right now with his hair all messy and a bare face, you just want to plant a big kiss on his lips.

“We all can’t wake up at 12pm,” you reply playfully. You take a sip from your drink, using it to occupy your lips so you don’t kiss him. “Whatever,” he replies. Johnnie is the one who bites the bullet and leans in for a small peck. The kiss is quick and subtle, but it’s enough to hold you over for another couple of hours. His touch has easily become an addiction for you.

“We’re literally right here!” Tara says dramatically with a fake gag. “You don’t have to make-out in front of us. God!” she continues. A blush creeps on your face because the kiss really was unnecessary, especially if Jake and Tara know you two aren’t actually dating. Under circumstances like that, even the smallest peck seemed like a big deal.

“Tara stop. She’s his fucking girlfriend, of course he’s gonna call her cute,” Jake jokes, quoting Johnnie’s now infamous Twitch clip. “I actually hate you guys,” Johnnie says with a blank stare as he gets up and walks to his room.

When Johnnie is out of earshot Tara asks another prodding question, “Wait girl, are you two sleeping together?!”

—

When Johnnie was finally ready for the day, the two of you sat down to film your long awaited aesthetic-swap YouTube video. You introduce the video briefly because most of your viewers dont need the long introduction, they know every and anything there is to know about you. Well, except that you’re hiding a big secret from them.

“Today Johnnie and I will be swapping aesthetics. How does that make you feel, babe?” you look towards Johnnie, a big smile plastered on your face. “I’m fucking scared honestly,” he replies, messing with his hair anxiously. He’s done this video a thousand times with so many different people, but for some reason he was extremely anxious.

“Why? You don’t trust me?” you ask playfully with a fake pout.

“I do trust you, but what if I look dumb as fuck? Actually, what if I look good as fuck and then I never wanna be emo again?”

“Emo is a disease you can’t escape,” you say jokingly before clipping his hair out of his face, pushing his hair back gently. “Wait are we starting already?” he asks, loving the feeling of your gentle touch.

“Yup.” You stand from the bed, adjusting yourself so you’re right in between his legs. The two of you are positioned perfectly, the camera catching everything from the knee up. Once you’re in between his legs he instinctively moves his hands to hold your thighs right under your butt. You don’t shy away from his touch, instead you begin his makeup.

“That feels nice,” he comments as you massage moisturizer into his face, the cool temperature of the cream calming him. You hold his face in place gently, locking eyes with him briefly as you peck his lips quickly. He smiles up at you, he could be here with you forever.

The makeup brushes dance along his face as you work towards replicating your makeup routine on him. The two of you only engage in light banter throughout the video which fills the atmosphere with a calming energy. Whatever anxiety Johnnie felt towards the beginning of this has completely dissipated and honestly he forgot you two were even filming. He’s lost in a world full of thoughts of you.

“Almost done,” you whisper in concentration as you line his lips. He looked so pretty right now, the makeup contrasting his everyday look drastically. “Do I look sexy?” he asks jokingly, chuckling at his own attempt at flirting. “Always,” you reply, only half joking. You make the finishing touches on his makeup, dusting away the powder on his under eyes before grabbing a hand held mirror for him.

Once he takes a look at himself in the mirror his mouth goes completely agape, he would actually fuck himself right now. “Oh my God, I do look sexy,” he gasps, admiring himself for all angles.

“Kiss me, I’m so sexy right now,” he puckers his glossed lips out for you, pulling you in closer by your thighs. You laugh, taking his face gently in your hands and planting a kiss on his sticky lips.

—

The atmosphere completely changes when it’s Johnnie’s turn to do your makeup. There’s an air of chaos and nonstop laughter surrounding you both, especially because Johnnie is using all of his crusty makeup products on you.

He stands in the same position you were in with a firm grip on your face as he attempts to evenly spread your foundation. “Johnnie that beauty blender is rock solid. It literally hurts,” you laugh as you attempt to wriggle away from the sponge, his hand pulling you back gently each time. He sees the opportunity for a joke and takes it, “that’s what she said.” His eyebrows wiggle jokingly as he stares at you, causing you to burst out in laughter.

“Never EVER say that again-” you’re cut off by him patting the makeup sponge all over your mouth. You chuckle through tight lips, feeling as he blends fhe makeup down to your neck and then up again on your forehead.

“You look like you’ve never seen daylight. So…perfect,” he comments blankly, stepping aside so you can look at yourself through the camera. You’re so pale it’s shocking, your hand cups your mouth in disbelief. Being this pale immediately took you back to your emo phase. You swoop your hair in front of your face briefly and burst out in another fit of laughter, “dude look at me!”

Johnnie looks up from his array of makeup and sees your makeshift emo hair, laughing also. He stumbles back slightly from the laughter, reaching out for you to keep him steady. You let go of your hair and hold onto his hands, laughing equally as hard. Your hair is now on your face, causing Johnnie to laugh even harder, “you look terrifying right now.”

The rest of the video goes like this, just the two of you laughing uncontrollably at how ridiculous you both look. Johnnie packs on the black eye shadow onto your eyelids, instructing you to close your eyes so he can smudge it everywhere. Lastly he teases your hair, using one of his hairspray coated combs. By the end of it, you two look unrecognizable.

“Okay guys it’s time for the grand reveal,” you speak from behind the camera. You and Johnnie changed your outfits to fully immerse yourself in the other’s aesthetic. He’s wearing a pink top, a white skirt, and knee high socks from your closet. You, on the other hand, dug through your archives for one of your old emo outfits. You’re completely decked out in a studded belt, a multitude of bracelets, and black jeans so faded they looked gray.

The two of you walk in front of the camera, doing a twirl for dramatic effect. You actually felt ridiculous, mostly because this was a look you weren’t accustomed to anymore.

Johnnie was feeling himself and was posing dramatically for the camera, “my ass is so fat in this skirt.”

—

Originally you two were going to film the video and then wash all the makeup off, but Jake suggests that you two stream in public for your fans. The idea was funny, but also a little nerve wracking. Johnnie didn’t mind it, he was used to doing embarrassing things on camera for views.

So, now you’re at the mall dressed as an emo while Johnnie follows behind you in the girliest outfit from your closet. So many people were staring at you both, they probably didn’t see stuff like this everyday. The comments on your stream were going crazy, most of them gushing over how good Johnnie looked in makeup. Your OG viewers were commenting about the nostalgia they felt seeing you dressed like that again.

“Guys we’re going to the food court, Johnnie wants Panda Express,” you comment to the camera, holding it so only your face is in view. “A girl’s gotta eat,” Johnnie chimes in from beside you with a silly voice, adjusting his skirt that keeps riding up. “Johnnie is finally understanding how it feels to be a girl. Every guy here keeps looking at him. They definitely want you, babe,” you look up at Johnnie who’s looking directly at the camera. He pulls a goofy face and replies with a silly voice, “I’m irresistible.”

After eating you walk around the mall, entering random stores and buying useless stuff to try in future videos. You even run into a couple of fans along the way, all of them gushing over how different you two look. Most of them ask for pictures, greet your stream and ask for an autograph.

After the tenth store, you and Johnnie decide you’re tired and end the stream. Finally when you two get home you wash off the makeup and take a shower to wash out the pounds of hairspray in your hair. You’re now sitting on your bed editing the video from earlier today. Johnnie enters your room unexpectedly, his hair wet from the shower.

“Hi,” he greets quietly as he crawls into your bed, he cuddles up next to you under the covers. “Hi,” you respond, adjusting your laptop so he can see what you’re doing. As you edit the video you can’t help but notice how in love you two actually look, it looks so real. It gets you thinking about how it would be to actually date Johnnie, not just when the camera is rolling.

“Johnnie?” you ask tentatively, scared of what you are about to say. He hums in response, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “Do you ever wonder how we do it?” you ask again, clicking various buttons on your computer as you continue editing. He’s confused, “do what?”

“You know, act in love for the cameras.”

He looks up at you again, this time with more attention, “Um I don’t know.” This was a topic the two of you avoided like the plague, mostly because it reminded you that none of this was real. “Tara mentioned it today, that’s why I’m asking,” you comment, attempting to deflect. The only sound in the room is the clacking of the computer keys.

“I mean, what is stopping this from being real?” you finally ask, watching as Johnnie shifts away from you. You think that maybe you said something you shouldn’t have, “Sorry. Forget I said anything.” Your face is red with embarrassment, had you just messed everything up?

He ignores your apology, “it’s been real for me.”

His voice is low and quiet, he isn’t meeting your eyes. You shut your laptop, throwing it towards the edge of your bed. Gently you grab his face so he can meet your gaze, a big smile on your face. Now he’s the one who looks embarrassed, he looks like he just admitted his crush to someone who doesn’t reciprocate the feeling.

“For me too,” you admit shyly.

His frown is replaced with a smile at your confession. The two of you lean in slowly to kiss and even though you’ve done it millions of times before, it feels like the first time.

“Guess we don’t have to announce it,” he jokes, earning a playful slap from you. It was true though, you two were going to go back to normal after this, but this time it would be real.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n:

Had to try a Johnnie story. Kkkk byeeee

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

#johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert x y/n #jake webber #jake webber x reader #jake webber x you #johnnie guilbert <3 #i love my emo boyfriend

2K notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 11 months

Note

can i request a little bit of angst?

eddie is in his late twenties, finally got his shit together, a baby on the way with reader! and eddie’s OLDER brother shows up. he’s an asshole, exactly like their dad, tries hitting on reader, crashes on their couch, makes eddies life hell then it all comes to a head and they end up fighting!

I really love this request!!! 🫶🏻

Never proofread

I hope this is what you wanted, thank you for requesting <3

Happy ending

~~~

If there was one thing in life Eddie didn't think he'd ever achieve, it was getting his life together. He never thought he'd make it out of the trailer park. And he definitely never thought he'd have a wife by his side and a baby on the way.

It took Eddie a long time to get on his feet. Selling drugs and living with his uncle was not the future he wanted for himself. He used his dirty money and got himself a shitty apartment, in the corner of the dirtiest neighborhood, but it was all his. And being on his own was something he could be proud about.

~~~

He was living in that apartment for around five years when he met Y/N. She moved into the apartment next to him, struggling to carry boxes through the front door. Eddie was happy he lived on the first floor, easily walking out behind her, trying his best to not seem creepy.

She turned around and screamed as she saw him. A hand over her chest. Eddie jumped at the scream, hands in the air to show he meant no harm.

"I am so sorry! I just wanted to see if you needed help." He offered with the friendliest smile he could manage.

Who would have thought in three years, he would have been marrying that girl.

~~~

Marriage life was the best thing Eddie has experienced, and he felt that fatherhood would be the same. He never knew how badly he craved a family until he was on the path of creating his own. He could start fresh, start a new family tree of the Munson name. A name that didn't have to be originated from prisoners, dealers, and being poor. He wanted the Munson name to be carried on through generations, with all good things behind it. Having a wife like Y/N take his name, told him he had a strong beginning.

She was around six months, her belly growing by the day. Together they made enough to buy a small home, in a safer neighborhood. Nothing too flashy, but it was their home and it meant everything. Eddie gagged at the thought of a white picket fence but he loved seeing it shine in the morning sun when Y/N watered the plants.

The nursery was nearly finished. The walls painted baby pink, and the furniture white. Eddie's favorite bands posted on the walls. He claimed their daughter needed to get her music journey started right away.

Eddie was the happiest he's ever been until an unwelcome visitor showed up at his door.

Y/N knew everything about Eddie, except his family. She knew Uncle Wayne and that was all. She respected that Eddie was private about his family and that he didn't care to share who they are.

So Y/N stood in shock when an older man stood at her door, the same shade of brown as her husband. A similar smile on the man's face, and a slightly bigger version of Eddie's nose.

"I'm looking for my brother," the man stated, looking her up and down. A tiny smirk on his face. But his smirk didn't give her butterflies, it made her stomach turn in a bad way.

She screamed for Eddie, a polite smile on her face. The longer Eddie took the more nervous she got.

"How far are you?" The man questioned, his hand reaching for her stomach.

She took a big sigh of relief when Eddie's hand shot out and stopped the man's touch from touching her. He stood in front of her. Completely blocking her view from the stranger.

"Little E, how the hell are you?" The stranger asked

"What are you doing here?" Eddie snapped. She watched as his body was stiff, she slipped her hand in his back pocket and stood on the side of him.

"Got out of jail, needed a place to crash. Wayne is going out of town and doesn't trust me alone in his place." The man rolled his eyes as he finished his sentence.

"I don't blame him since the last time you did you trashed it," Eddie said, his jaw was tight and his face was hard.

"Come on, E, help a brother out."

~~~

Eddie wasn't sure why he said yes, but he already regretted it watching the way his brother's eyes were glued to his wife.

"Quit staring," Eddie snarled, using his foot to kick him under the table.

Y/N hummed in the kitchen as she checked the chicken. Trying her best to keep her attention off of the two men at the dining table. She felt her body shudder underneath Michael's stare.

"Quite a woman you got there," Michael said, sipping on his beer

Eddie didn't say anything, accepting the silence instead.

Y/N smiled as she placed the food on the dinner table. Putting together a plate for Eddie and placing it in front of him.

"Gonna make me a plate, pretty girl?" Michael winked, his hand reaching forward to her wrist. She gulped and looked nervously at Eddie.

"Leave her alone." Eddie snapped

Michael put his hands up in surrender, making his own plate.

The three sat in silence.

~~~

Michael has been crashing on the couch for the past week, and every day he was getting on Eddie's last nerve.

Y/N worked from home and spent most of the day in her office, Eddie worked at a car dealership. He hated leaving for work and leaving her alone with Michael. He didn't trust Michael but Eddie's boss would also kick his ass for not showing up.

He kept his phone on him at all times, reminding Y/N to call the second she needed him to come home.

~~~

Michael said he found a friend to crash with and would be leaving shortly. Asking Y/N if she would help him clean his clothes and pack up his belongings. She honestly felt too scared to tell him no, silently scooping up his clothes and bringing them to the small laundry room. She excused herself to head into the shower. Eddie would be home within minutes so she felt safe to be in a vulnerable state, checking twice to make sure the door was locked.

~~~

Eddie pulled up in the driveway, bracing himself for another night of trying not to kill Michael with his bare hands. He walked in to see his house trashed, the cushion torn apart, and the cupboards all thrown open, he heard shuffling around in the bedroom. He raced to the noise to see Michael digging through their drawers.

"What the fuck? Are you trying to rob us?" Eddie asked in disbelief, Michael's backpack was filled with random items. Eddie yanked the bag out of his grip, dumping it all out on the bed.

He felt his blood boil when Y/N's ring fell out. But once his brain caught up with seeing the ring, his blood felt cold. She ONLY took it off when she was in the shower. Eddie turned his eyes to Michael, immediately shoving him against the wall.

"Where did you grab the ring?" He prayed with everything in him that she left it in the bedroom.

"She had it sitting on the bathroom counter, she couldn't see me with her back to me. Really hit the jackpot there, Eddie. Shes' smoking."

Eddie felt his stomach turn, he felt like he could throw up at any moment.

"You fucking pig. Don't talk about her." Eddie barked, twisting Michael's shirt in his grip.

"A really nice ass, I bet her tits ar-" But Eddie kicked Michael in the stomach before he could finish.

~~~

Y/N heard a commotion in the bedroom, fear in her stomach as she got covered herself in a towel and called Wayne. Racing out of the bathroom to see Eddie on top of Micahel, screaming and punching.

"OH MY GOD, EDDIE" She panicked, she knew getting in the way would put the baby in danger, but she has never seen Eddie so out of control.

The sound of her scream caused Eddie to freeze, and both men looked to see her.

"Eddie, stop," She said calmly. She placed her hand out, offering him to stand up. He took a deep breath and got off of Michael. Grabbing his bag and throwing it on him.

"You are out." Eddie snarled

Michael coughed as he tried to move his beaten-up body. Eddie rolled his eyes and dragged Michael to his feet.

"I have his clothes," Y/N said, quickly running out to the laundry room.

Michael smirked as Eddie looked over at him.

"What asshole?" Eddie asked.

"I see why you knocked her up. When she was bent over that washing machine." Michael groaned, rubbing himself over his jeans.

Eddie lost it again, immediately throwing his body on his.

Y/N came back with the clothes to see Michael unconscious, but the look in Eddie's eyes was unrecognizable.

She didn't fear him, but she was worried for him.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Wayne came through the door, yanking Eddie off of Micahel.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Wayne instructed, grabbing the sides of Eddie's face, forcing his eyes to look at him.

Eddie's body was shaking, his knuckles cut open, and his breathing was quick and harsh.

Eddie locked his eyes on Waynes, allowing himself to calm down.

"I'll take care of him, hug your wife and go clean up."

Eddie listened in seconds, turning around to throw himself in his wife's arms. Allowing her to hide in his neck. She rubbed his back and cooed in his ear.

She took him to the bathroom to clean up his hands. Kissing each knuckle as she cleaned the blood.

"I'm sorry I let him stay here." Eddie sighed, he couldn't believe he was that dumb. He watched Wayne do the same thing with Eddie's dad for years, and yet he did the same thing.

"Don't be. You wanted to help and that was sweet of you." She said, standing between his legs as he sat on the counter.

They heard the front door close, Wayne and Michael officially gone.

"I'm sorry my family is a mess, this I why I never wanted you to know them." He added. His hands reached down to rub her stomach.

"Wayne is your family, I'm your family, and she is your family. That's the only family I care to know. Wayne raised the man I love and he is the only one I need to know. I have the two best Munsons in my life." She said, leaning up to peck his lips.

"Well, I get to have three." He smiled, kissing her back and his hand stayed on her stomach.

This was his real family.

~~~

tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #ashwhowrites

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hybbart · 9 months

Text

Day 1904: The spread of sculk is too much to just clean. After salvaging what they could, the ranch is taken down...

Bonus short story below.

Jimmy watched as the last of the house blazed in the twilight. Around the edges of the flames Pearl and Sausage marched, searching for anything flammable that might catch. It was the beginning of winter, and the constant rains had kept everything soaked, but they couldn’t risk it in the middle of the forest. Lizzie had stayed closer as well, securing the last of their belongings to take away in the morning. It was only a few metres down the driveway, but the ranchers couldn’t even get that far.

Tango let out a low growl. His grip on Jimmy’s sleeve tightened, pulling the thick fabric further over his eyes. Puffing up his feathers, Jimmy pulled his rancher closer into his side. Tango only stayed because of Jimmy, and because he couldn’t bring himself to leave the ranch behind. It was what he’d said yesterday, before the first burning. But he couldn’t watch. He could barely help them clear it out before the sledgehammers came in. Sparks flickered through his hair in lieu of tears in his eyes as he kept his face buried.

Jimmy, though… He was entranced. Every crack in the beams that cause a burst of sparks or shift in the wind that billowed the smoke in a new direction. The smoke made his eyes water, but none fell. Maybe he’d finally grown numb. Maybe it looked too different. There was a pile of flaming rubble where his home once was, his first home, but his chest only felt hollow. All that was left with a twitch in his wing, the desire to run and keep far away.

Pity in her eyes, Lizzie approached them from the trailer. Reins were pushed into Jimmy’s hand against his protest. “Take a horse and head back to my house before it gets dark.” She said.

“But-”

“No arguing.” Despite the firmness of her words her voice was low and sad. “You need to sleep in a real bed, Sausage is going to stay here tonight. The last of your things will be fine overnight with us.”

Even after years, Jimmy was never able to argue with Lizzie when she said something reasonable, and he’d given up trying. Jimmy glanced to Tango, who was still hiding from the world in Jimmy’s sleeve. A small tug on his hem was all he got in response. “We’ll be back in the morning with more water.” He assured. They rounded up Bullseye and began the long, quiet ride to Lizzie’s.

By the time they arrived it was dark, the home illuminated from within the kitchen. Though half the house was cloaked in tarps to save unfinished work from the rain, they’d moved into the completed half already. A bit of smart planning on Scar and Joel’s part.

One of the kids must have spotted their lantern, as the door opened before the ranchers could get down from their horse. Tom came rushing up with Revy on his tail. He took Bullseye's reins from them and led him to the cow pen. It was more cramped than it should be, since the rain had flooded the rancher’s outer pastures. Revy whined and licked at Tango’s hand until he gave the dog a weak pat.

Joel shouted something after him before guiding the men inside. “We just started eating if you want to sit down.” He explained as he took Jimmy’s coat. One glance at Tango was enough to answer.

“I’ll grab some in a bit.” Jimmy tried to smile gratefully, but it came out as a grimace. Joel let them be with a nod, hand held out to the hall down which Sausage’s room awaited.

It was colourful, though the furniture was rudimentary, with a mattress stolen from Scar’s hospital. The bed so much smaller than they’d gotten used to, but Jimmy doubted it would matter for tonight. Norman and Flick waited on the windowsill, and Joel had already set up Jimmy’s breathing machine. It took some coaxing to get Tango to change out of his coveralls - which went into a plastic bag to be washed separate - and take off his arm. Even more coaxing was needed to get him to let go long enough for Jimmy to also change. When Jimmy turned back around the blazeborn had Revy wrapped up in his lap instead. The dog’s tail beat against the bed, happy to be held, but whining, nonetheless.

“Do you think you can eat?” Jimmy asked quietly. Tango didn’t respond. He grabbed only one bowl from the kitchen, unsure he could eat much either without it coming back up. Smoke still clung to their skin and hair, dragging them back to the ranch every time it filled their nostrils, but it was much too dark to run a hot bath. Still, Jimmy knew he had to eat something, even if it was in silence.

Tango migrated behind Jimmy at the end of the bed, tail wrapping around the avian’s waist. Its tuft flicking with agitation. Jimmy could feel the heat rolling off his rancher. “It’s not fair.” He rasped.

Jimmy’s wings flattened. “It was an old wood house. It would have had a mold problem eventually unless we rebuilt completely.”

“But why did it have to be sculk!” He snapped, tail sparkling in Jimmy’s lap. Jimmy tried to smooth it down, but it had little effect. “Why’d it have to make it here?”

There wasn’t an answer, not one Jimmy could provide. Maybe Doc or Zed could explain. It was probably in the well and washing into the surrounding water supply now. Would it be washed away? They should have listened to Grian’s worries back when Jimmy’s feathers had been infected somewhere. Or, maybe, back when they’d first found that infested corpse, they should have done something more. It didn’t matter now that their home was already gone. When nowhere felt safe.

His wings itched while his rancher bristled. Tango couldn’t cry, but he was made to fume. “Why aren’t you angry?”

“There’s no one to be angry at.” Jimmy shrugged.

“The stupid sculk! The idiots who let it loose! The world!” The bed creaked as Tango kicked off it to pace the small room. Revy whimpered, shifting his nose into Jimmy’s lap. “It’s been half a decade. It was supposed to get better. We live out in the middle of nowhere. And the end of the world still found us! We build our own home and make our own food and do everything we can, and it still comes and finds us!” The blazeborn was consumed in his spiral. Flames burst like firecrackers along his tail, startling Flick when it whipped past the poor cat.

“Tango…” Jimmy sighed, giving the man a miserable look. When he continued to pace, threatening to scorch their hosts’ possessions, Jimmy finally put a hand up in front to stop him.

A hiss escaped Tango, narrowed eyes glaring at the hand which proceeded to latch onto his shirt and drag him off course. Tango tried to shake it off, but Jimmy kept his hold. “It’s not fair that there’s nothing to fight back against.” He lamented, voice cracking. “I just have to sit here and hope tomorrow it doesn’t get in your wings, or start growing into Revy’s brain, or infest another basement! That it doesn’t get everywhere and take everything. At least the stupid zombie I can punch in the face!” By the end his voice was so shrill and watery Jimmy could barely understand it.

“Me and Revenge are okay. We’re right here.” Jimmy assured, pulling Tango back down beside him.

It made something finally break. Tango curled into himself across Jimmy’s lap, heaving dryly. Talons raked gently through the blazeborn’s hair. Between sobs Tango mumbled incomprehensibly while Jimmy cooed to keep himself from crying as well. There were too many things roiling just beneath his impulse control. If he let one out, the rest would follow, he was sure. So, he focused on Tango. His rancher needed him.

“I don’t think we’d win if it was someone you had to fight, to be honest.” He whispered half-jokingly as the sobs died down.

Tango stilled, then slumped further into Jimmy’s chest. “I could at least try, instead of this.”

Jimmy hummed. Even if they could, Jimmy wasn’t so sure he would in the moment, and he knew Tango wasn’t all that dissimilar. Unlike Joel or the downtowners, their talent was for running and hiding. That wasn’t the point though, Jimmy knew, so he didn’t argue. “What do we do in the spring?” He asked instead.

“… I dunno.” Tango mulled, head tilted out to look at his thoughts. “It’s not safe to rebuild there.”

“Scar has most of the grain safe, and Lizzie has our animals. We could find another plot, there’s plenty around.” Though, most of them had been stripped of their valuable supplies and building materials over the years or rotted away from lack of care. But the land was still good, and they and Pearl didn’t need much room.

Would Pearl stay with them? They’d lived with her much longer than without her – if the time before her arrival weren’t so chaotic, he might not recall so well what it was like without her – but she always seemed to keep her distance. A guest, even after she was given her own room. Having someone there to take care of things even when they couldn’t let them grow the ranch to almost thirty cattle, but without her...

That Lizzie’s family would have their own ranch soon was the only thing that calmed the nervous itch in his wings recently.

“We’d have to move closer.” Tango’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Huh?”

He was no longer curled up, though he hadn’t bothered to remove himself from Jimmy. There was that look in his eyes, where his brain was moving far too fast for Jimmy to keep up. At least it had occupied him with something other than the sculk and fire. “We can’t rebuild around the ranch, we won’t know how bad the infection around it is until next winter, and the water probably isn’t safe. If we rebuilt we’d have to move further west down the mountains towards the city, OR-” Tango raised his hand before Jimmy could protest. “We move closer to the hospital, somewhere around here, or maybe further into the interior on the other side.”

Jimmy clamped up. They’d all had more than a few conversations about this, between them and the hospital, other settlements, and over the radio. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Keep spread out. Far enough that, if something happens, everyone else is safe, but close enough to reach neighbours relatively quick. Like a long chain snaking across the mountains. By now everyone had horses or bikes and access to the recap radio, and it helped them cover more resources. A farm needed land, anyways, especially to keep up with how many people there now were within the network.

That thought seemed too much right now, though. He could feel the ash in his wings turning to lead. Losing the ranch didn’t just affect them. The cattle were saved but almost all their stores were gone, including two cows’ worth of beef that was to be sent out. It would take weeks, if not the whole season, to get things back in motion, in the months they were relied on most. Would people starve? Would the sculk spread from the ranch? It was a responsibility that seemed natural and seamless just weeks ago, but now felt suffocating.

“I’m not sure-” Jimmy finally replied. “I’m not sure I can rebuild the ranch right now.” Flashes of the burning rubble filled his mind, along with that numbness he’d felt. There was at least three months before they could begin, plenty of time to get over it. But right now… “I don’t even know if I want to.”

He expected perhaps a gasp or shouting from Tango. ‘We’re the ranchers!’ Maybe. But the blazeborn, to Jimmy’s surprise, nodded. Laughed, even. “We’ve been running one for years, why’s it feel impossible now?”

It was probably just nerves. Anxiety. In a few weeks it would wear away. But for now, Jimmy leaned his head against the top of Tango’s and entertained other things. “We could move back to the hospital.”

“That’d drive you insane, and Revy would kill Grian.” Tango chuckled.

So would you, Jimmy thought. He was sure if Tango had to see more sculk every day he would lose it. “What about visiting Gem and Impulse then?” He suggested instead. “I heard they’ve been doing a lot of forestry. It might be good to learn from them. Or we could finally go to the coast.”

“We never did make it that far, did we?” Tango recalled. “… Why not both? Go back up the mountain and race back down until we hit the coast. Maybe find some more people outside the recap’s range and bring them in.”

“If they’ve survived this long then I doubt they’d want to move now.”

“They might. Or maybe we can help extend the radio range for them.”

Jimmy smiled. “Maybe we should go east, instead. Find a ranch in the prairies. Be real cowboys.”

“Never been out there, even before all this.” Tango relaxed back against Jimmy, patting his leg for Revenge to come lay across. “You could stretch your wings.”

“That sounds nice.” He admitted with a sigh.

The pair continued to chatter, naming everything and everywhere. Making plans they’d likely never use. Anything to take their mind off the ranch. Just for one night.

#solidaritygaming #tango tek #ldshadowlady #pearlescentmoon #mythicalsausage #rancher apocalypse au #team rancher #fanfic #fanart #bioppunk #spooky #character #scene #background #writing #art #sketch #colour #Hybbart

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ddejavvu · 2 years

Text

Lost and Found - Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 2) | Part 1

WC: 7.0K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Eddie is happy to teach you everything he knows about DnD, he just wishes you weren't so goddamn distracting

Contents/Warnings: eddie n wayne, besties forever <3 very very fluffy lots of yearning and ridiculously cheesy moments, lovesick!eddie, reader wears a skirt and eddie's hellfire shirt from part 1, suggestive material, but still minor-friendly (part three will not be)

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

“Christ on a cracker, son,” Wayne swears, nearly pushed to the ground as Eddie slams the trailer door open, “Calm down.”

“Sorry Wayne!” Eddie barely takes a second to breathe before he flies through the space, feet pounding on the matted carpet of the trailer as he races to his bedroom.

“What’s the rush?” Wayne is well aware of his nephew’s recreational habits, as well as his business endeavors, and shudders to think that there might be some drug-crazed lunatic after the boy.

But Eddie pops his wide-eyed face out from his bedroom only seconds later, shirt and pants torn off to leave him in his boxers as he darts for the shower, “There’s a girl coming over.”

That’s a new one. Wayne has heard a few feminine voices outside the trailer before, when they’re out of stock and need replenishing, but Eddie never showers for them. He probably should, Wayne always tells the boy that if he stinks any worse he’ll have to move out, but he’s never shown an interest until now.

“And,” Wayne peers into the bathroom, seeing Eddie frantically combing out his hair, the plastic nearly snapping under the pressure he’s putting on it, “This is a special girl?”

“I- I don’t know,” Eddie huffs, his crazed panic still alive as he whirls around the bathroom for a clean towel, “Sort of. I don’t really know her yet.”

“Y’know ‘er enough to care.” Wayne prompts him, and Eddie deflates slightly. He’s looking in the mirror, trying to part his hair neatly so that he can wash it easier. He stops, his hands falling from his head to his sides as he stares hard at his reflection.

“I want to impress her.” Eddie admits, his usual self-assuredness now gone, “Or- impress isn’t right,” He puzzles for a moment, his eyes drifting over his features, “Just- I don’t want to scare her away.”

“Well I think it’s good you’re showering then,” Wayne lightens the mood, “‘Not sure she could handle your B.O.”

“Shut up,” Eddie takes the out, shoving at his uncle’s shoulder with no real force, “I’m gonna order pizza for us. She wants to learn how to play DnD.”

Wayne’s eyebrows skyrocket, “She wants to learn? Or have you kidnapped and brainwashed her like those basketball players tell me you do?”

“She’s under my control,” Eddie rasps, his voice thick in his throat.

Wayne snorts, standing up straight from where he’d been leaning against the doorframe, “Alright, boy. I’ll leave you to it, but if you need help getting ready for tonight, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Eddie breathes, flashing his signature grin at his uncle before he shuts the door.

Wayne watches the closed door with something light and airy filling his chest, maybe laughing gas at the way he chortles hearing Eddie drop the comb into the sink for the tenth time since he started. Then he turns, and the reality of their home hits him.

It’s messy.

Far too messy to accept company, which is why the pair hasn’t for years. Aside from Eddie’s trusted friends, all of whom are far too sloppy themselves to bat an eye at the general clutter around the trailer, no one has set foot in their space for five long years.

Now, he’s all for encouraging Eddie to be himself, that if someone doesn’t like who he is, then they’re not fit for a friend. But he’s sure that you’re far too important to Eddie for that test just yet, and he’s not sure he wants you to get to know his nephew as messy when there’s so many other qualities he possesses. That’s something you can discover later, when you’re hooked on his charm and wit and won’t mind stepping on a pair of boxers or two to get down the hallway. He gets to work clearing away mindless clutter, collecting shirts strewn over the furniture and paper plates tucked under the couch.

By the time Eddie finishes showering (and falling, twice), Wayne has the entire living room de-cluttered, although most of the loose papers and items have made their way onto the kitchen table instead of being put in their places. Eddie steps out of the bathroom, towel tucked around his waist and a hand in his curls, dragging his fingers through the wet tangles, and he stops dead in the doorway, eyes wide.

“Shit,” He breathes, watching his uncle crouch to tug an empty beer can out from behind the door and stuff it into the trash bag he’s got going, “Wayne, what are you doing?”

“Cleaning up,” Wayne states the obvious, raising an eyebrow unimpressed at his nephew’s cognitive skills, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Are-” Eddie stops combing through his hair, standing limply in front of his uncle, “Are you doing this ‘cause Y/N’s coming over?”

“That’s her name?” Wayne smiles, “‘S a pretty one.”

“You are,” Eddie marvels, “Uh, thanks, Wayne.”

Wayne’s hands and knees burn against the scratchy carpet, the beer can in his hands sharp from being crushed. He stands, the worn fabric of his flannel falling limp against his distressed jeans. He stands there, tattered and messy, looking at the way Eddie’s cleaned himself up.

He’s wearing a tank top, a KISS shirt that he was gifted on his tenth birthday. It’s got tour dates on the back, one of which Wayne took Eddie to as a present. Apparently it didn’t look good enough as a t-shirt though, because the boy had taken scissors to it a few years back, carving out holes the size of craters that expose part of his side.

His hair is bundled up in a bun atop his head, scrunched up and crimping itself while it dries. He always tells Eddie not to do that, to leave it down so that each strand can dry individually, but Eddie hates the feeling of wet hair on his skin, so he pulls it up and leaves it sitting until he can blow-dry it.

The same ripped jeans he’d worn to school are back on his waist, belt cinched tight around him with his handcuffs pinned there. Wayne always tells him he’ll confuse someone, make them think he’s an undercover cop, but Eddie only laughs at him. There’s a chain hooked through his belt that rests on his hip, dipping close to his knee and gleaming in the artificial light above them.

There’s two necklaces bouncing against his chest as he walks over to help Wayne with the overflowing trash bag, his typical guitar pick and a dog tag he’d found in the street one day. It says Sprinkles on one side, but Eddie swears that it looks metal if he turns it the other way, the owner’s number stamped across it.

He has an earring in. Eddie almost never puts an earring in, because his at-home ear piercing hadn’t produced the most sanitary results. He says it burns when he wears earrings, but here he is, a heavy silver hoop through one ear and a black cuff pinched tight at the helix of the other.

Wayne looks at his nephew, his boy, and pride surges through his chest. Pride, a little bit of awe, and happiness. He cares. This is something Eddie really cares about, you are something Eddie really cares about, and it’s obvious by the things he’s done for you before you’ve even come over. Eddie has always cared, perhaps a bit too much, and it’s easy to tell when he does from the little things he pieces together to show it.

“You look good, boy.” Wayne breaks the careful silence the two had slipped into, watching Eddie tug the straps to the garbage bag. He reddens slightly, his cheeks flaring in color, something akin to the shade of the tomato soup he’d managed to botch for last thursday’s dinner. How the boy had undercooked a can of soup, he’d never know.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie mumbles, forearms flexing as he ties a knot into the strings of the garbage bag, “I’ll take this out.”

“We should start on your room,” Wayne points out as Eddie tries making his frantic exit, spooked by praise. Eddie nods once, and Wayne lets him escape to the dumpster to process the emotions he’s got swirling inside of him.

He knows the boy gets shy around praise, which is why he tries not to overwhelm him. But today is different, today is a bigger step than he’s seen Eddie take in a long time, and it’s hard not to burst with pride.

When Eddie comes back inside Wayne is already tiptoeing around his room, dodging suspicious socks and cassette tapes strewn about. Eddie gets to work stacking those, a comfortable silence falling over the pair as they set to work.

“Wayne?” Eddie’s voice is timid, meek.

“Yeah?” Wayne reaches under his bed, pulling out a magazine that he shouldn’t have and a sock, something Wayne doesn’t want to think about as a pair.

“Do you.. Do you really think I look nice?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth he’s stammering, shaking his head so that his bun wobbles dangerously, “I- I mean, like- not like nice, but do you… you think she’ll like it?”

“Son, if she asked you to teach her about your game, I’m sure she’s not scared of you.”

“But is that enough? Shouldn’t she,” Eddie abandons the cassettes in his hand, scratching bashfully at the back of his neck and combing through the stray hairs there, “I dunno, like me? Not just not hate me?”

“Well I’d give her some time if I were you,” Wayne chuckles, reminded of the restlessness of youth, “You’ve only known her a day.”

“Right.” Eddie nods frantically, eyes glued to the tapes he busies himself with again, “Yeah, I will.”

“Hey,” Wayne reaches out, bracing a hand on Eddie’s knee that’s bouncing frantically, “You’ve got this, boy. You can do this. She’ll love you.”

The word love has Eddie’s cheeks flaring the color of it, a deep red that Wayne sees most often on valentine’s day cards. He chuckles once more at his nephew’s crush, shaking his head and getting back to sorting through clutter.

By the time Eddie’s watch beeps, a tinny, mechanical sound that has him leaping onto his feet to rush for the door, they’ve gotten his room mostly under control. There’s a pile of dirty laundry stull bulging out of the closet, but that can’t be avoided, as the hamper is broken from a rather unfortunate sledding endeavor a few months back. You’ll just have to live with the sight of yesterday’s t-shirt in the corner, they decide.

“Okay, uh- thanks, Wayne.” Eddie brushes his hands on his pants, already sweaty from nerves, “I’m gonna go pick her up now.”

“Right,” Wayne stands, trash bag in hand with all of Eddie’s discarded food wrappers and beer cans, “Good luck, son.”

The term flares up Eddie’s blush again, but Wayne doesn’t comment on it, offering him a quick hug, a simple pat to the back. It’s all Eddie can handle right now, already a bundle of nerves that he doesn’t want spilling out.

“There’s a $10 on the fridge,” Wayne calls out after Eddie bounds down the steps of the trailer,tugging the rubber band out of his hair and letting it spill over his shoulders, “Use it for pizza!”

“No, no,” Eddie waves his uncle off, plunging his hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet, “I got it!”

“Eddie,” Wayne glares at the stubborn boy, “Use the money on the fridge.”

Eddie balks at the aggressively kind gesture, but a wry smile curves over his lips, “Whatever. I’ll just sneak cash into your jacket while you’re asleep.”

“You will not,” Wayne huffs, but Eddie’s already taken off for his van, slamming the door behind him with a hearty laugh at his uncle’s grouchiness.

When Eddie pulls up to your house, having checked the little slip of paper buried in his pocket, oh, around a thousand times, one of the upstairs lights is on. It’s the only one on, the rest of the windows pitch black, and Eddie worries that maybe something is wrong. Your house looks near abandoned, but at the rough chugchugchugging of his engine, a downstairs light flicks on. He catches your silhouette thumping down the stairs and sees the outline of a skirt over your hips. His stomach flips and he shuts off the van, hurrying out so that he can beat you to the door. It seems gentlemanly, something he’s never been too concerned about, but it feels right in the moment.

He’s inches from the door as you wrench it open, a fist raised to knock while you step out of it, not expecting him there on the other side. Your eyes widen but you can’t stop your momentum, stumbling clumsily into his chest despite your efforts to slow down.

“Oh!”

“Eddie!” You speak in unison, your voices mingling just as your limbs do. His arms wind around your waist, laying over his hellfire shirt that you’ve tucked into the waistband of your skirt. The material is soft under his touch, but not as soft as your face, which hits his shoulder in your scuffle. Eddie feels a burst of warmth flood through him at the skin-on-skin contact, and holds you steady as you right yourself against his chest. Your hands brace themselves frantically on his stomach, your chest heaving as you gape at him, “I’m so sorry! I- I wasn’t paying attention, I just heard you coming, and- and,”

“If you were that excited to see me,” Eddie doesn’t know how he’s being as suave as he is, because his heart is practically hammering through his ribcage to affix itself to you like a lovesick leech, “You could have asked me to come earlier.”

You feel your cheeks flare with heat as you slump forwards, the crown of your head hitting Eddie’s clothed chest, “Stoooop.”

Eddie chuckles, adjusting the pitch of his voice to your own, “Stoooop.”

“You’re mocking me!” You shove at him lightly, making him stumble a step backwards, “You’re the worst.”

“Hey,” Eddie finally lets you go, his skin instantly cold where it had once touched yours, “You gotta be nice to me. I’m teaching you DnD, remember?”

“Fine,” You huff dramatically, “You get a pass, but only for tonight!”

“Deal.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with mischief, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You confirm, bouncing excitedly on the balls of your feet.

“Van’s there,” Eddie gestures to his van, nearly tripping over his own feet when you grab his hand, eagerly tugging him along, “Woah!”

“I told you I was ready.” You gush, the words coming out in a soft giggle that makes his heart burst.

You look out of place in his van, too heavenly to be wriggling comfortably into his worn seats. There’s a half-drunk water bottle by your feet that crunches beneath your shoe, and you apologize hurriedly for crushing it.

“‘S okay sweetheart,” Eddie snickers, reaching down to pluck it out from under your feet, “It’s, like, months old.”

“Eddie,” You chide, “It’s probably growing something!”

“It’s fine,” He urges, snickering at your horror, “It’ll put some hair on your chest.”

He leaves you with that, shutting the door to your side of the car and jogging around to the driver’s side door. He wrenches it open, his hair bouncing against his chest as he sits down with a flounce. The radio that he has is already preloaded with the cassette tape he uses whenever he drives Wayne anywhere, his favorite metal artists and their less-overwhelming songs. Wayne always says heavy metal ‘makes his ears bleed’, he’s more into classic rock, but Eddie will be damned if he isn't listening to Mötley Crüe on any drive longer than two minutes. He figures that he’ll be courteous to you at first, just in case metal isn’t your thing either.

To his surprise, a minute into Merry Go Round, your brow dips in concentration.

“Mötley Crüe, right?”

Eddie swears he nearly passes out. His usual response to surprising information, a dramatic flailing of his limbs, doesn’t seem very safe just now, and you’re lucky he doesn’t jerk the wheel to the side.

“Yeah,” He grins dazedly, “You listen?”

“Sometimes!” You pick at a loose thread on your skirt, “I’m into a bit of everything. Really jus’ whatever comes on the radio.”

Eddie suddenly likes you more, if possible. Everything new that he learns about you only adds to the little list of Reasons he Cares, the first and most important being that you’re kind to him. He would never admit it, but he’s like a little lost puppy, trailing after the first person to scratch behind his ears.

“I like your van.” You muse, and it’s so genuinely sweet it nearly makes Eddie scream. You brush your fingers over a Black Sabbath sticker that’s peeling off of the dash, reaffixing the dusty backing to the smooth plastic. It doesn’t stay, it pops right back up again, but you’re onto the next detail now, a pair of old sneakers in the door, autographed by the patrons that watch him perform with his band.

“These are cool,” You marvel at the sloppy, mostly-drunken signatures scrawled over the canvas, “Who are they?”

“Our fans,” Eddie boasts proudly, even though he’s sure seven hammered 40 year olds aren’t the most impressive thing in the world when it comes to an audience, “They watch us perform, remember my band I told you about?”

Eddie watches your eyes light up from the rear-view mirror, but you’re lucky he doesn’t take his eyes off the road completely to see them unfiltered.

“That’s right!” You remember your earlier conversation, “That’s so cool, Eddie, you’ve got fans!”

“We do,” He chuckles, fingers sweating against the steering wheel as you near his trailer, “You should come to one of our shows sometime.”

“If I do, do I get to sign the sneakers?” You’re far too excited to put your name on a pair of ratty old shoes, repurposed as a trophy, but Eddie would be willing to buy a new pair just so that your name can be the only one on the fabric. He thinks about that, about having your name displayed over him, and blushes. He hopes you don’t catch it.

“Of course you can,” Eddie promises, turning much more carefully than he normally does into his typical parking spot, the van sputtering to a stop when he removes the key. He turns to you before you open the door, “How about this saturday?”

“Next,” You compromise, “My parents get back Saturday night and I can’t be out without them knowing.”

“Your parents are gone?” Eddie cocks his head to the side, crimped hair bouncing as he does.

“They’re getting the last of our stuff from our old house,” You nod solemnly, “We don’t even have mattresses here yet.”

“No shit? What have you been sleeping on?”

“The couch,” You recount sadly, “It’s not very comfortable, but it’s better than the floor.”

“Damn,” Eddie sympathizes, yanking on the latch of his door and hopping down, “Well, babe, I’ve got a mattress inside, if you’re interested in staying the night.”

It’s bold, brazen, uncouth, but he tops it off with a teasing grin, so it’s okay. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, happy that it mostly filled the empty van as he slams his door, rounding the front to open your own for you.

“Very gentlemanly,” You praise him, slipping your hand into his to step down from the lifted van, “I’m impressed.”

“Well don’t get used to it,” He teases, squeezing you against his side with a hand that drifts suspiciously low, “I’m not usually this nice.”

“I must be special.” You concur, giddiness in your grin that sends Eddie’s stomach into a cartwheel.

You are, Eddie nods once at you, afraid to voice his thoughts in case they somehow ruin the unspoken adoration between you, More than you know.

Eddie’s pleased to find nothing but a slight oil stain in Wayne’s usual parking spot, his uncle having predicted that Eddie would want alone time with you. He’s half expecting to find a box of condoms on the kitchen counter when he walks in with you, but flicking on the light of the trailer reveals only a spotless living space, junk shoved in drawers to be dealt with later.

“I like it.” You decide with a curt nod, eyes landing on the array of DnD paraphernalia stacked on the couch, “Oh, I almost forgot! I brought you this.”

You reach into the waistband of your skirt, the slim paperback book you were reading earlier neatly molded to your side. It doesn’t retain the curve of your side, flattening back out into its shape as you hold it out to Eddie.

You swear you catch his eyes wandering towards the spot that you’d just pulled the book from, but they snap up to meet your own before you can verify it. He takes the book from you with an eager grin, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Y’wanna swap?” You stride over to the couch, plucking a book titled Players Handbook: Compiled Information for Players and Dungeon Masters out of the pile.

Eddie falters slightly, surprised that you’re so eager to get into what might be the least exciting part of learning DnD: the rules.

“Sure,” He nods carefully, taken aback, “Lemme just clear the couch.”

He bends over to do so, and you can’t help that your eyes trace the newly-exposed skin of his chest. The shirt he’s wearing already reveals his side, but as his arms stretch to grab boxes and papers off of the cushions in front of you, it shifts to show his stomach.

You don’t realize you’re staring until he stops in front of you, an eyebrow raised that you don’t catch because you’re ogling him.

“Everything okay?” To your horror, there’s a twinge of amusement in his voice, and you’re certain he’s caught you.

“Yes!” You scramble to act casual, thumbing past the cover of the book to appear busy, “Yes, let’s get started.”

Eddie sits before you do, surveying you with that same cocky gaze. It makes you nervous, your stomach churning slightly, and you perch on the end of the couch that he’s not spread out over.

He lets out a scoff, reaching out, “You can get comfortable, Y/N, I don’t bite.”

He does, however, grab, which you find out when he yanks your legs out from under you, tugging them outwards so that they rest over his lap. He’s reclined against both the arm of the couch and the back cushion of it, looking far too composed for the rampage of butterflies against his stomach.

You melt into your new position so naturally that it scares you. It feels right, cracking the spine of the handbook while your legs are draped casually over Eddie’s lap. Stretching out and getting comfortable on Eddie’s couch seems just as casual as it does on your couch, and you can’t help the dizzy grin that spreads over your face as you realize this.

“Somethin’ funny?” Eddie’s brow quirks at your expression, and you bury it behind the book, shaking your head.

“Right,” He sets a hand over your ankles, locking your legs into their position on his lap, “Lemme know if you’re confused, babe, I’m here to help.”

Though the DnD handbook is informative, and slightly exhilarating to peruse, you hope that the actual gameplay is less complicated than it sounds. You’re barely twenty pages in, a good 40 minutes gone by, and you’re not sure you can keep all of the information straight in your head. Hopefully Eddie cuts you some slack, or else you might seriously slow down their game.

"Page?" Eddie glances up from the pages of your novel, peering over at the handbook in your grip.

You look to the corner of the page from where you'd been reading up on character classes, "23."

"The Fighter." He speaks in a low voice, raspy and dramatic. You giggle, half amused by his theatrics and half impressed that he's managed to memorize the 130-page handbook in front of you.

"What about you?" You glance pointedly at the book in his hands, shifting your feet in his lap slightly. You don't realize it, but they press against a rather sensitive spot, and Eddie hunches slightly, his stomach caving in as he tries remaining composed.

"Uh," His eyes frantically skim the page, wide and panicked until they lock on a familiar name, "Weylin- Weylin is just, uh, crossing over the Bridge of Lost Souls."

"Ooh," You wriggle slightly in your place on the couch, consequently burrowing your feet further into Eddie's lap, "I love that part! You meet Ionia soon, you'll love her!"

He can’t take it anymore.

“Uh,” He shoots off of the couch, lowering your feet carefully back down to the cushions where he was sitting, “I’m getting kinda hungry. Pizza time?”

“Pizza time.” You nod jovially, flipping a page in the handbook, seemingly unconscious of Eddie’s predicament, “Pepperoni?”

“And sausage.” Eddie nods, “Be right back.”

When he comes back, tugging a crumpled bill out of his pocket to use for the food and pointedly avoiding his uncle’s money, you tuck your legs up under you to set him sit down. He peers over the top of the handbook, eyes drifting to the words appearing upside-down in front of his face.

His nose hooks over the tops of the pages, and you can’t help it: you giggle. He glances up amusedly at you, his own sweet laugh filling the air as he crumples into your lap. You raise the book over your head so that he doesn’t have to slip under it, and his eyes meet yours from where he lays on your legs.

You stare down at him, entranced by his features. His soft cheeks, his sloped nose, the tinge of red that spreads over his skin. His eyes, shiny and smooth, like melted chocolate that you can taste on your tongue. You brush a hand over his forehead, gathering up loose flyaway hairs that have gathered there. They’re malleable and wiry in your grip, and you twirl them around your finger once, twice, thrice, until they form a spiraled curl.

His eyes follow your finger, doe-like as they cross to track your movement. When you let the hair go it springs off of your finger, bouncing down to rest over his nose, and his eyes dart inwards to follow it.

Apparently it tickles his nose, because he scrunches it up, miniscule wrinkles etched like waterways on a map into his skin. You smooth the terrain, running the soft pad of your finger down the bridge of his nose and marveling how his face relaxes as your touch waves over it.

He shivers slightly under your finger, and you notice a bridge of freckles, the lightest you’ve ever seen, dotting his nose. They stand strong over all of the rivers you have yet to flatten, stretching down towards his mouth in beautiful smile lines.

“You’re pretty.” You muse, your voice barely more than a whisper as you trace his features. He lets his eyes flutter shut when your fingers brush under them, his lashes tickling your skin.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He coos, the softness of his voice gaping that growing sinkhole of adoration that’s been tugging at your chest ever since you met him. His pretty face, his sweet words, his kind actions, all of them mark him as safe, as good, as loveable.

With his eyes closed, you’re allowed to be as obvious as you want when ogling him, not that you were very subtle before. Your eyes latch onto his lips in a similar fashion as you want your own to do, roving over every crease, mark, and indent in the soft, pillowy muscles.

Before you can think about it, you touch them. Your fingers, their pads soft and hesitant, prod gently at his lips. That has his eyes shooting open, carmeled brown irises meeting yours in shock.

Though you feel his gaze on you, you don’t stop. You let your hands linger on his face, soaking up every second of dazzlingly intimate contact you can get with the man. He studies your face while you study his, the both of you barely breathing while watching the other sit pretty. You swear you feel Eddie’s lips shift under your fingers, puckering ever-so-slightly to kiss the tips of your fingers, but then-

The hollow, sharp knock on the door of Eddie’s trailer shatters the intimacy of the moment, plunging you back into reality from the serene haze you’d been trapped in. You both fall from the clouds you’d lounged atop, plummeting back to earth with the thump of your hearts in your chests.

“I’ll get it,” Eddie scrambles up from where he’s draped over your lap, rushing to the door and snatching the cash off of the counter. You straighten yourself out while he grabs the pizza, cheeks aflame as you look around the room to avoid looking at him. You see a stack of vhs movies in the corner by the television set, and your eyes catch a familiar title.

Labyrinth.

“Okay,” Eddie sets the pizza on the counter, grateful for the paper plates the place provided you, “One slice or two?”

“Two,” You grin eagerly, reaching for the tape, “Are you the reason this was missing from the video store yesterday?”

He laughs at the sight of the VHS in your hands, “Yep, ‘had it since it came out.”

“Rude,” You scoff, “I wanted to watch it last night!”

“Bummer,” Eddie scrunches his brows, faux-sympathy written on his face, “‘Guess you’ll just have to come over whenever you wanna watch it.”

“Well I’m here now…” You push, clutching the case hopefully.

“Pop it in,” Eddie laughs, gesturing towards the machine, “‘Should be rewound already.”

You kneel by the VHS player while Eddie brings your plates over, and your back faces him. It gives him the perfect opportunity to ogle you, only feeling slightly guilty when his eyes trace the curve of your ass.

You turn before he can admire how the Hellfire shirt exposes the angles of your shoulders, abandoning its post and leaving your neck bare. He watches the skin there shift, muscles beneath the surface tensing as you crane it downwards to slide the tape into the receiver.

“We’ll work more on DnD later,” Eddie promises as the main titles roll, music filling the otherwise silent trailer, “We’ve still gotta get a character figured out for you.”

“‘M excited,” You speak through a mouthful of greasy pizza, pepperoni sticking to your lip, “Thanks for the pizza, Eddie.”

“‘Course sweetheart,” He grins at you, then hides his blush in the red tomato sauce on his bread.

Eddie truly believes that you’ll go over more later for the game. But when you finish both slices of your pizza, hands covering your stomach tenderly as he’s sure it’s stuffed, and curl up against the arm of the couch, he knows nothing else is getting done tonight. Your eyes are glued to the screen, Sarah’s dress glittering as her hair flounces with every movement of the couple. He’s never been a Bowie fan, but he reckons you are by the way your eyes shine whenever he’s on screen.

He’s jealous of David Bowie.

Oh, fuck, he never thought he’d sink this low. But he feels something unfamiliar and sharp prod at his chest whenever you pay just a little too much attention to the man on screen, and he prods at your feet with his own.

“Hoggin’ the couch,” He chides you, with no real scorn as he tangles his legs with yours, “Stretched out like you own the place.”

“Sor-ry,” You huff dramatically, clocking his teasing grin and knowing he’s just messing around, “It’s not my fault your couch is comfier than mine.”

Eddie remembers your admission, that you’ve been sleeping on your couch for god-knows-how-long, and his stomach sours. He studies your face, the way that your eyelids droop even though you’re clearly enjoying the movie, the wrinkling of your chin as you yawn. You’re clearly exhausted, and his space is the comfort you need.

He feels something akin to pride at that. You not only feel comfortable enough around him to curl up on his couch, but you feel comfortable enough to fall asleep. He might be new at this, the whole relationship thing, but he knows that’s big.

Suddenly he doesn’t feel such a large blade of jealousy stabbing at his heart anymore, because you’re not cuddled up to David Bowie on David Bowie’s couch, are you? No. You’re curled up with him, on his couch.

Take that, Bowie.

It’s around the one-and-a-half hour mark, only ten minutes before the movie ends, that he realizes he’s the only one watching. He’s been glancing back and forth between the screen and you for ages now, but when he checks up on you this time, you’re asleep. He can see your chest rising and falling, his shirt still worn proudly over your frame, and a sleepy smile curves over his face. Your lashes kiss your cheeks, casting shadows down your face that look like spiderwebs. It looks cool, and he makes a mental note to ask you if you’d let him put eyeliner on you to see if he can turn it into a spiderweb. It’s a design he’s been meaning to do on himself, but if he needs a model, why would you turn him down?

The end of the movie isn’t so entrancing to him anymore now that you’re snoozing, and once more he lets his eyes drift over your frame. Your skirt is tucked neatly under your bum, but your thighs peek out of it, soft and plumped by the way you’re laying. Then his eyes rove over your shirt, the familiar, hand-crafted design looking better on you than it ever has on him or his friends. It’s odd, seeing the shirt on anyone but the boys in his friend group, but he quickly decides that it’s his favorite outfit of yours, and that nothing in the world could top it.

The end credits announce themselves in an encore of the film’s soundtrack, and Eddie reluctantly parts from the cozy embrace you’ve found yourself in. He ejects the tape, stuffing it back into its case and tucking it carefully back onto the stack. Now that he knows it’s his ticket to time spent with you, he’s much more reluctant to take it back to Family Video tomorrow like he’d planned. Maybe he’ll keep it, late fee be damned.

“Y/N,” He hates the thought of waking you, but he hates the thought of inconveniencing his uncle even more, and you’re curled up on what will become Wayne’s pull-out.

“Y/N,” He tries again, soft and soothing as he taps your shoulder gently, “Wake up, we’ve gotta get you home.”

The clock only reads 10:23, but he’d feel guilty getting you home at an indecent hour. Typically, Eddie’s philosophy is etiquette be damned, but he has a feeling you wouldn’t be too happy about being dumped on your front porch after two in the morning.

“Y/N,” He slips a hand under your torso, his other sliding under your legs, “C’mon, wake up.”

You don’t. You must have really had trouble sleeping on your couch, because now that you’re dozing off, you don’t seem to wake up easily. Worry gnaws at Eddie’s chest as he hoists you into his arms and you don’t wake, only sighing contentedly and curling closer to him.

His eyes widen and his cheeks burn as you snuggle up to him unconsciously, your cheek pressed against his KISS-clad chest. Your nose nudges into his neck and he swears he sees stars, his knees weakening at the intimate contact like you hadn’t just been touching his lips hours beforehand.

“‘Gonna be the death of me,” He mutters, voice devoid of any real anger as he trudges down the hall to his room. His bed is neatly made, pillows stacked at the head that he reaches up and kicks down with one of his socked feet. It flops flat onto the mattress with a thump, and Eddie lowers you as carefully as humanly possible onto the bed. You aren’t too keen to let go, though, because your arms stay tightly wound around his neck. He tries straightening but you come right back up with him, brows scrunching in displeasure at being jostled around.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs, lovestruck, “‘Gotta let go.”

“Eddie,” You mumble hazily, sound far too much like a lover he’s just accidentally jostled by getting out of bed to get ready for work in the morning, “Don’ go.”

“I can’t leave you here,” He reasons, returning your favor and smoothing out the wrinkle in your brows with his thumb, “I’ve gotta grab my keys and shoes, then we’ll take you home.”

“Nooo,” You whine, sleep tugging at your voice, “‘S too cozy here. I don’t wanna leave.”

“But no one knows you’re staying here,” Eddie’s afraid that your parents might come home early, discover their child missing, and storm his trailer with pitchforks, “Don’t you wanna head back home to your own bed?”

"Couch.” You mumble grouchily, “My parents aren't home," Your voice is groggy and weak, but Eddie swears it's more angelic than any hymn he's ever heard, "'S okay."

"Are you sure?" He reaches up, smooths a hand over your forehead then down your cheek without thinking, but before he can panic over the intimate gesture you're leaning into it, letting out a contented hum that quite reminds him of a kitten's purr.

"'M sure," You promise, already curling up cozily beneath his blanket, looking far too natural and perfect in a space you'd never occupied before, and Eddie feared, never would again.

"Okay." He's breathless and weak as your eyes drift shut, his hand lingering against the curve of your face, "G'night sweetheart."

He isn’t sure what to do from there. He could move his hand, he probably should move his hand, so that he doesn’t stand there for hours holding you, but that seems all the more tempting with every passing second. He marvels at his luck, how he’s managed to get to heaven without dying. Unless he is dead. But he’s almost certain he’ll be sent to hell for the sheer amount of drugs he’s sold to high school students, so he’s sure it isn’t that.

You must be an angel, he decides, one that isn’t afraid of the devil everyone says he is. He gets a brief vision of matching halloween costumes to that effect, a wiry halo perched on your head while devil ears adorn his. The scene’s unfiltered domesticity stuns him, along with how perfect it feels. It doesn’t feel awkward or forced, instead like something you’d come up with on the phone at ungodly hours and commit to months before the holiday.

He’ll bring the idea up to you tomorrow.

For now, he has to figure out where he’s sleeping. He’s not taking Wayne’s bed, but you’re in his, and that would be wrong.

Right?

Eddie studies the way your body is laid out on his mattress, knees tucked towards your chest and arms bundled up below your face, clutching the blanket he’d thrown over you. You take up a fraction of the mattress, the side that he normally sleeps on still unobscured.

Would it really be that bad if he laid opposite you? He wouldn’t touch you, he wouldn’t throw an arm over your waist, he wouldn’t tangle his legs with yours, he wouldn’t press a soft kiss to your forehead before drifting off. He wouldn’t.

He wants to, though.

He gives into another temptation, hopefully his last for the night, and lets himself indulge in your presence. He slides onto the end of the mattress, careful not to disrupt you as you slumber.

It feels weird, having someone in his bed beside him. Weird, but good. He decides, in fact, that there’s no better feeling aside from your fingers on his lips, than you in bed beside him. He stares up at the ceiling, willing the urge to kiss your nose away before he can screw up the best thing that’s happened to him in years.

One single, cautious glance thrown your way, and it’s all over.

Your hand is bared towards him, the smooth skin on the back of it in perfect kissing-range. He would be an idiot not to, right? That’s what gentlemen do, after all, they kiss the back of their lady’s hand. Typically not without her knowledge, or while she’s in bed with him, but it’s the principle of it, not the specific scenario.

He reaches for your hand hesitantly, and once his skin brushes yours he sees fireworks that light up the dark room. They nearly short out his vision, and when he sees clearly again, your hand is poised directly in front of his lips, his own hand still clutching it securely.

“Sleep good, sweetheart.” He whispers, near-inaudible in the darkness, then his lips press delicately against your hand.

Such unimaginable warmth and giddiness fill his chest, that he’s sure he’ll explode. There’s going to be Eddie Guts on the walls and ceiling, rotted sickly sweet from how infatuated with you he’s become in such a short time. Kissing you, albeit only your hand, feels like something he wants to do for the rest of his life, and he can only hope you’re gracious enough to grant him that privilege.

That’s a discussion for the morning, though, or never, Eddie reminds himself. He’s just kissed your hand in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping like a creep, he might not be too eager to admit that to you in the morning in a desperate plea to do it again. He refrains from peppering the rest of your skin in adoring kisses, but keeps your hand clutched in his own, marveling at the way that you can warm him up completely from a single touch.

It must be an angel thing, he decides, as he drifts off into a happy slumber, tomorrow he’ll ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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lunartadpole · 1 year

Text

Eddie learned about two months into dating him that Steve is an active sleeper.

He was always a bit hurt when Steve wouldn't stay the night at the trailer park; dreaded watching Steve's car drive away after a night in. At first, Eddie thought it was a hit and run situation, a one night stand that spans more than one night. And yeah, it makes sense; King Steve probably just wants a new way to get his dick wet, got tired of all the babes and such. Of course this thing they have - whatever that is - isn't serious. It makes sense and still, Eddie's hurt.

But then he starts noticing things. Like Steve's reluctance to leave but his refusal to fall asleep no matter how late it is. And it's not just with Eddie either. He's noticed that Steve always seems to clock out early at any overnight event their little group have - DnD nights in Wheelers basements, Dustin's sleepovers, hell, even Buckley's movie nights. Steve is always first to arrive and first to leave.

Eddie just can't figure out why.

He goes as far as to ask Robin. Because if anyone can give any insight into the mysterious life of Dethroned King Steve Harrington, it's Buckley. But even she has no idea. She says she hadn't even noticed.

He gets his answer a week later.

They're in Eddie's trailer. Steve drove around after his shift, they're lounging in his room, Steve sitting up again the headboard, Eddie practicing his guitar, and it's midnight, bordering on Steve's usual check out time. But Harrington's been complaining about a rough day at work - something about being swamped and Buckley ditching her shift for boobies, Munson! She ditched me for boobies - and Eddie can see his eyes fluttering and his head lolling before quickly shooting up again. Rinse and repeat. Until Steve finally begins to bustle up and leave.

Eddie begs him to stay, half because he wants him to and half because there's no way it's safe to drive home when you're two fleeting seconds away from dropping comatose. They argue back and forth, Steve typically reluctant and a bit…nervous? Scared? Eddie doesn't know. And it doesn't matter because he wears Steve down and soon enough Steve is wearing Eddie's pajamas and the two of them are cuddled up in bed together.

Using Steve as his own personal Teddy bear, Eddie sleeps soundly that night.

At least, until about three in the morning.

Ever since Vecna, Eddie hasn't been the heaviest of sleepers. So when he hears banging in the kitchen rattling through the thin membrane walls, he's upandatem pretty quickly, abruptly women up to the fact that his boyfriend isn't beside him in the bed anymore. Another bang comes from the kitchen.

Okay, he's panicking.

Armed with the old tire iron he keeps by his bed for just an occasion like this, Eddie creeps towards the kitchen, mind racing. Who the fuck is here? Did someone break in? Something? From another dimension? Images play in head like worn film, images of Chrissy Cunningham floating in his living room, the sound of her bones snapping eerily similar to the banging now.

What he is met with in the kitchen is nowhere near as scary, but ten times more weird.

Because Steve 'The Hair' Harrington is in the middle of his kitchen surrounded by what little pans and pots the Munson's own.

"Uhm…Stevie?" he calls, ever so softly. And then louder when he doesn't get a response. "Steve?"

Steve stands like a ghost in the shadows. Eddie can't help but stare at his face, so relaxed unlike anything he's ever seen before.

Then. He speaks.

"I swear I left it here…" Steve mumbles, to himself or maybe to the dark shadows surrounding. The words come out slow and monotone. Hushed, slurred together in a broken string of consciousness. It does nothing to ease Eddie's worry.

"Left what here?" he asks, looking around at the mess for some item of Steve's he might've lost. All the while Harington just stands there, dazed.

Then. "Flowers. Told Eddie I'd get him flowers."

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, pushing forward into his boyfriend's space and thoughtlessly cups his face in his hands, making him look at him. Steve's eyes are just barely open, and they're glazed over with this lost, far off look. He doesn't look at Eddie, rather through him.

And somehow, Eddie catches up, a scoff of disbelief leaving his lips. Who would've thought?

"Okay, alright sweetheart," the grin is prominent in his voice, dripping with fondness. "You're still asleep, huh?" Something inside him surges and he finds himself grazing his other hand faintly across Steve's forehead to brush his bed hair out of his face. His eyes are all the more clouded over in sweet nonsense as Eddie pushes his hair into something that doesn't resemble a sad brown mop.

"I can't…remember where…" Steve mumbles, trying to break free from Eddie's hold but ultimately failing. He lets his head drop against Eddie's neck.

"Okay, let's get you back to bed, alright?" Because that's what you're supposed to do with people who sleepwalk right? Never wake a sleepwalker, that's what they say isn't it? "Hold my hand, it's OK Stevie." Pressed up close against him, Eddie breathed in the smell of Farrah Faucet spray and citrus shampoo and led Steve back into his bedroom, hand in hand.

"How about you try to stay in bed now," he says, leading Steve as he leans against him, skin warm and citrus and weary against his own, feeling a little too much like something Eddie wants to keep holding onto.

"Got somewhere to be,"

"Not right now, cmon," Eddie gently eases Steve down onto the bed, and surprisingly, Steve lets him. Not long after, Eddie is beside him, holding onto him tight once more.

In the morning, Steve wakes up confused, like he's surprised he managed to stay in one spot all night, but doesn't mention anything about sleepwalking. He does ask Eddie, "Did you sleep well? I didn't wake you, did I?" and Eddie just kisses him, tells him, "Best sleep I've ever had. You should stay around more often."

And when Steve agrees, Eddie decides not to bring it up.

It happens a few more times after that. Not all the time but more often than not Steve will stay over Eddie will wake up to him wandering about the house. The majority of the time it's stupid stuff; Steve sluggishly pacing around the room, Steve mumbling sweet nonsense to himself, Steve trying to take a shower in the hallway. Pretty harmless stuff.

Except for the time it isn't.

That time, they're in Steve's house, big and empty. That time, Eddie wakes up at 4am and just barely catches sight of Steve's fleeting figure down the stairs. Like most times before, Eddie is quick to follow him down the stairs towards the living room, staring blankly out the window. A metallic glint flickers across Eddie's eyes. His eyes widen with concern when he realises it's a kitchen knife. Steve doesn't move, but he's breathing real heavy, like he's just waiting for something to happen.

"Steve, darling." He begins, hating how his voice is cracking. "Will you come back to bed? Please?"

This time, Steve shakes his head. Frantic. Paranoid. Eddie watches his grip on the knife tighten.

"Can't." Comes the raspy, hoarse reply. "The lights. It's out there. Swear I saw it. I swear-!"

Softly, Eddie shushes him before he can get more worked up. He stays put a good six feet away, entirely out of self preservation. Harrington's deadly with a weapon in his consciousness and Eddie wouldn't like to find out what he does in his sleep, thank you very much.

"Saw what, love?"

"I heard a thud. It's so cold."

Oh. Oh shit okay.

Eddie isn't unfamiliar with nightmares. God, after what he saw it'd be weird if he didn't have them. After Mike's apparently real psychic ex-girlfriend cut ties with The Upside Down, Eddie was a mess. He couldn't sleep, plagued with visions of terror bat's tearing away at his flesh bit by agonising bit. He can't count the number of times he called Steve in the late hours of the night in need of reassurance. To tell him that it is over now.

Steve was a rock for him. Eddie almost envied him, with how easily he managed to readjust back into normality. Never did it cross his mind it might've all been a facade.

"Steve," Eddie begins, firmly and unwavering. Slowly, he begins to etch more into Steve's space. "Listen to me. The gate is closed. Vecna and the rest of his little hell beasts are gone."

In front of him, Steve doesn't move. He doesn't even appear to have heard Eddie at all.

Eddie swallows, trying to push the thought that maybe, after so near death encounters, Steve's finally gone mad, come undone at the seams, and this is what his mental state has come too: armed with a scarily sharp knife, ready to fight any sudden movement.

"Do you think you could put down the knife, dear?" Eddie suggests lightly, gently touching the outside of his hand incase Steve needs some sort of anchor to come back to. Underneath the edges of his fingertips, Steve's touch is warm, his pulse comfortingly steady, and Eddie holds onto it, selfishly, a little longer than he should have, that tightness he is becoming so acquainted with returning to his chest. He then slips his hand further within Steve's own, carefully taking the knife from Steve's grip and interlocking their fingers as if it were the most natural thing ever. As if it had always been that easy.

"There we go," Eddie praises as he places the blade down on the coffee table. "See? All better now."

"Better…"

"You're safe, Steve. I'm safe. Everyone is safe. Those things can't hurt you anymore."

"But- the lights-"

"Are fine." Steadily, Eddie begins to back out of the room, gently pulling Steve along with him. "Now let's get you back to bed, yeah? You still gotta get your full twelve hours of beauty sleep don't you?"

A dopey smile ghosts across Steve's lips as he huffs a laugh. It's barely anything. But it's enough for Eddie.

"Yeah you do," he teases. They're in the bedroom now. Eddie guides Steve underneath the duvet. As soon as he hits the soft cushions, he curls around himself like a child, protecting himself from the intangible cold or phantom nightmares, while refusing to loosen his grip on his boyfriend's hand. Eddie feels his throat close.

He has questions. How long has Steve been having these nightmares? How many of them result in sleepwalking? How many of them are violent enough to grab a fucking kitchen knife? Why didn't Steve tell him sooner?

But they can wait until morning.

#eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #steve/eddie #steveddie

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schoopsahoy · 1 year

Text

the wrong side of the tracks

steve harrington x fem!reader {18.8k} you and steve had never seen eye to eye, to put it lightly. but when you have to work together at family video, you start to realise you might not hate him as much as you once thought. enemies to lovers, no use of y/n. 18+ mdni

You could pinpoint the exact moment that your personal vendetta against Steve Harrington had started. Not that it was hard to remember. You’d just moved to Hawkins, back to your parents home town and away from the warm air of the West Coast, forced to face Hawkins middle school before you’d even got your bearings of the trailer park you’d shacked up in.

It was your second day there, maybe your third. (Maybe your memory wasn’t that great, but the specific day didn’t matter). You were sat alone in the cafeteria picking at the sad meal in front of you, your head down in an attempt to ignore the lunchtime chaos around you.

“You’re new here, right?�� A voice pulled your head up away from your tray as a group of kids joined you at your lonely table. You didn’t really know people’s names yet, you definitely recognised them though. Seen them around the yard, an air of importance around them that was only ever found in schools.

You’d kept your lips pressed shut, a small nod the only response you were willing to give. You could tell where this was going by the grins and the giggles and already had no interest in entertaining it.

“‘Course she is, what a stupid question.” One of the girls snipped back to the boy who’d asked the question, elbow digging into his side.

“Heard you live in the trailer park. Moved all this way just to live in a tin can.” The comment earned a laugh from the rest of the group, all far too amused by the snide comment.

You could feel your skin heating up, some sort of mix of shame and anger and anxiety, and you begged your body to not let your skin flush and give away your emotions.

“It’s rough out there. Must suck, being born on the wrong side of the tracks.” The same boy continued on his attack, clearly made up with himself and the responses he was getting from his friends.

You just stared at him for a moment, eyes blank and brows furrowed, letting the laughs around you trail off in anticipation of your response.

But you didn’t give one, instead picking up your backpack up off the floor and getting up to walk away from the table. Your barely touched food left behind as you stormed out of the canteen and those same cruel giggles followed you even with the distance put between you and the group.

And that was it. A dislike started before you even knew their names. Not that you stayed oblivious to who they were, after a few weeks you had settled in enough to put names to faces. Which meant you could confidently say you wanted absolutely nothing to do with Steve Harrington.

—

You need a job. Well, another job. Your hours at the diner have dropped over summer since people are busy vacationing and generally getting themselves out of Hawkin’s, which leaves you with little leftover each week to put in your savings pot - that coincidentally exists with the aim of getting yourself out of Hawkin’s too.

You do, however, find yourself questioning how much you need another job when you turn up to your Family Video interview only to be greeted by Steve Harrington.

Robin had told you about the job opening, and sure you know they work together. Robin has long since dealt with your disbelief at their friendship, your comments a little less frequent now but you still respond to any mention of him with a groan and overly dramatic eye roll.

But she’d assured you, absolutely promised hand-on-heart, that she would be there when you come in for your interview. But as you stand in the doorway, bathed in the red glow of the fluorescent light, you lock eye contact with Steve and realise that you really should know better by now than to trust Robin to know her schedule.

“Oh for fucks sake.” You grumble, brows pinched together a little as you step up to the counter, the boy behind it watching your annoyance with a smug smile.

“Now that’s no way to get a job.” His tone is condescending, and if you had even an ounce less of self control you think you’d be tempted to smack the grin right off his face. It wouldn’t be the first time, but these things are a bit more acceptable in middle school.

“My bad, Harrington, didn’t realise you owned the store.” You feign shock, hands raised to your side as you gaze around at the shelves stacked with tapes.

“I can’t believe Robin told you to apply.” He scoffs, arms folding across his chest.

“Don’t be stupid, we were friends before you were.” It’s childish, stupid bickering that you really should be above by now. And you are, with anyone else. But not with Steve.

“Oh, real mature.” He draws out his vowels as he rolls his eyes at you, every little movement further lighting that angry fire in your chest. “She can have other friends, better friends.”

It takes everything in you to not take his bait, every nerve in your body pulsing with frustration and rage and you have to take a deep breath in to keep yourself at least somewhat calm.

“You’re a real piece of work, Harrington.” You exhale your words out, eyes closed as you shake your head at him. “Where’s Keith?” You never thought you’d see the day where Keith was the better option in terms of company.

“In the back.” He juts his head in the direction of the office door at the side of the store. “Better hurry up, you’re late.” He taps his fingers against his watch, and you realise that thanks to your petty arguing you’re now late to your interview.

You flip him off as you walk towards the office, feet striding quickly across the store. You can’t believe Steve Harrington was still ruining your life, even after graduation. Maybe you’re being dramatic, but you think your dramatics are allowed given the circumstances. If there was anyone you allowed yourself to be a little bit childish over, it was him.

Turns out it’s pretty easy to secure a job at Family Video if you’re a pretty girl who can hold a semi-decent conversation, the interview pretty much consists of Keith scanning over your CV, asking the usual boring questions of why do you want this job? and what would you bring to the store? and after a whopping ten minutes you’re walking out the office with your new FV vest in hand.

You wave it at Steve as you walk out, a smirk on your lips as he glares at you. “See you next week, Harrington.” You sing, not stopping to hear whatever smart response you’re sure he has cooking up and head back out into the parking lot.

—

You’ve worked four shifts at Family Video now, and three of those you got lucky and only had to work with Robin. But today luck isn’t on your side, it’s just you and Steve alone all day. It’s pretty easy work, but with easy also comes boring, and with that comes plenty of time for Steve to try and rile you up.

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put away the ever growing pile of returns, sat cross-legged on the floor as you slot each tape into its rightful place on the shelf.

Except every time you seem to make progress, Steve comes along to move the tapes around, feigning interest in each one before he puts it back somewhere it doesn’t belong.

“Oh now this, this is meant to be good.” Steve picks up Back to The Future, waving the tape at you as he studies the case in fake intrigue.

“Everyone’s seen Back to The Future, Harrington. It’s not some hidden gem.” You huff as you shuffle on the carpeted floor, legs going numb and the rough fabric leaving indents into your bare calves from where they’re pressing into the ground.

“Hm, yeah, maybe.” He puts it back, in the completely wrong spot, before picking up another video case with the same false fascination. “What about this? Y’seen this?” He holds the copy of The Breakfast Club directly in front of your face, your hand quickly swatting it out of the way.

The impact of your knuckles on the plastic stings and you quickly pull your hand away, blowing on the skin to attempt to sooth it. “Yeah, I’ve seen it.” Your voice is blunt, unimpressed at his antics. “D’you not have work to do? Instead of, you know, disrupting mine?”

“What? I’m trying to help.” He acts shocked at your annoyance, bottom lip jutted out in a puppy dog pout as you let out a dramatic sigh.

“You’re a fuckin’ headache, you know that?” You pinch the skin between your eyes, at the point of exasperation with him and his determination to ruin your day.

“C’mon, why don’t you want my company?” His voice is thick with sarcasm, his arms crossed over his chest as he peers down at you on the carpet. It makes you feel small, enough to have you standing up to lessen the height difference between you - though you still have to crane your neck to stare at his face.

“I will never want your company, Harrington.” You narrow your eyes, huffing a little as you pick up the box of returned tapes and make your way to start on another shelf as far away from him as you can get.

But of course, he follows you. This time hanging back so he can lean against the counter and watch as you go on your tiptoes to place the tapes on the top shelf.

“They’re gonna fall.” He nods towards to tapes teetering on the edge of the shelf, and you know he’s probably right, but you’re not going to admit that.

“Whatever.” You grumble, continuing on with your stacking and trying your hardest to block out the boy's presence behind you.

“Look at them, they’re wobbling, if they fall on you you’re gonna get a concussion.”

“Can’t be worse than this.” Your voice is sickly sweet and entirely fake, and you turn to flash him your best sarcastic smile.

You turn back to carry on organising the shelf, maybe being a little too rough with how you’re shoving the tapes on there, lips twisted up into a frown as you feel Steve’s eyes watching your every move.

“You need to-“ Steve steps up behind you, his words halted as a hand goes above you to catch a tape before it can come tumbling down off the top shelf and most likely fall directly onto the top of your head “- chill out.” He pushes the tape back onto the shelf, now positioned safely there away from the edge.

Your body feels tense with how close he is, chest practically pressing into your back as he crowds over you, you think this must be what fight or flight feels like. All the nerves in your body on high alert, chest thumping and skin suddenly feeling too warm even with the AC pumping through the store.

“Whatever.” You repeat, but your words seem to hold a little less bite now. Steve seems to notice, a shallow chuckle coming from behind you before he finally moves away and settles behind the desk.

You find yourself letting out a deep breath you didn’t even know you were holding, shaking your head to yourself before carrying on with your work as best you can whilst ignoring his presence.

You’ve told Eddie to pick you up when you finish at 5, the promise of a takeout and 4 pack of his choice enough to bribe him into being your chauffeur for the night. You already planned to buy those things anyway, but if it got you a ride home too then who are you to complain.

He’s usually late, nearly always in fact, so you take your time getting your belongings from the staff room. Vest tucked back into your bag, hair pulled out of the knot you’d tied it in to keep it out of your face as you work.

The rest of your shift with Steve had been spent in awkward silence. He’d stopped bothering you after he’d stopped the tape from tumbling down onto you, instead busying himself with other tasks which conveniently kept him at a distance from you. If you did ever have to cross paths with each other there’d be an awkward shuffle past one another or a detour taken around one of the shelves. You weren’t complaining, you’d take uncomfortable tension over him actively annoying you any day.

After dawdling for a few minutes in the back, re-tying your laces and fiddling with how your shirt was tucked into your skirt, you push the staff room door open and step back out into the store. When you see Steve standing at the desk talking to Eddie, laughing about something and seemingly getting along, you feel your lips turn into a frown. Surely they weren’t friends? Surely this wasn’t another part of your life Steve Harrington had managed to wiggle his way into.

You stride over, brows pinched as you appear next to Eddie who stops his laughter to look down at you, face a little puzzled at your clearly irritated expression. “Hey kiddo, you good?”

“Don’t call me kiddo.” You huff, the feeling of Steve’s gaze boring into you and you can feel the blood rush to your cheeks with embarrassment. It’s only made worse when he laughs at Eddie’s greeting, and you suddenly feel about 2 feet tall. “Can we go?”

“Yeah, was just waiting for you.” Eddie shrugs, his eyes still studying you as you shuffle your feet on the carpet clearly eager to leave. “I’ll see you around, Harrington.” He gives the other boy a casual salute, nodding to him as he backs towards the door.

“Later, Munson.” Steve nods back, before turning back to you, your knuckles turning white as you grip the strap of your bag tightly and wring the fabric to try and get out some of your frustration. “See ya, kiddo.” His voice is teasing and his smirk doesn’t falter as you scowl at him, eyes narrowed and stare pointed, mumbling something under your breath before you pass Eddie by and storm out.

“Woah, slow down.” Eddie calls after you, door swinging shut behind him as you stride across the parking lot to his van.

“Since when were you two friends?.” You frown, looking a bit too much like an upset child to try and dispute his nickname for you.

Eddie shrugs, looking back to the video store and then to you. “He’s not so bad, the kids love him.”

“He’s a dick.”

“You two just don’t get on, he’s chilled out since he graduated.” Eddie tries to reason with you, the same point you’ve heard a million times before from Robin.

Maybe he has changed, dropped his stupid high school persona and become a nice guy, for everyone but you. But the grudge you both hold for each other runs too deep to be glazed over with his change of heart, too much said (or maybe unsaid, in terms of apologies) for you to truly buy it.

“He thinks he’s so much better than us, y’know? Because he lives in some big house with all that money and we live in the trailer park?” You lean against the van behind you, metal hot against your skin in the evening sun.

“He’s not like that anymore. It’s not even his money, he works the same shitty minimum wage job you do.” Eddie's hands are shoved into his pockets, and you do feel bad for putting him on the spot with all this, but your anger is bubbling up in your stomach and it’s like it’s consuming your every thought.

“Whatever. If you wanna ignore the fact he’s some rich dickhead, be my guest.”

It makes it worse, in a way, that him and Eddie get along. Because Eddie was one of your first friends when you’d moved to Hawkin’s, looking out for you in the trailer park and school in the same way an older brother would. You had the same lifestyle, grew up with the same struggles but for some reason Steve wasn’t giving him grief. Apparently it was just you. You wish it didn’t bother you, wish you could wring the thoughts out of your brain onto the tarmac below.

“C’mon, don’t let it ruin our night, yeah?” Eddie smiles at you, a sympathetic look because he can see how riled up you are. “I’ll even pay for the beer.”

“You can’t bribe me, Munson.” You huff, but the whisper of a smile appears on your lips and Eddie knows that in five minutes all will be forgotten. Once you’re a good distance away from Steve. “I know you don’t have the money for it.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You caught me.” He holds his hands up in faux defeat. “But the thought was there.”

“I appreciate the theoretical generosity.”

Your eyes flick back to Family Video before you climb into the passenger seat of Eddie's van. You don’t know why you do it, torturing yourself with one last reminder of your infuriating co-worker before you close the door and shut the day out of your mind.

—

You should’ve known it was going to rain. Maybe you did, and had chosen to ignore it. The air this morning had that close, sticky heat to it, the kind that comes when the clouds are hanging low in the sky and you can almost smell the deluge that’s just waiting to be spilled.

But the sun had still been high when you’d set off to your shift at the diner this morning, too hot to even consider a jacket and your bag was already full with a change of clothes for your shift at Family Video this afternoon.

You watched the sky open up and douse Hawkin’s in a long needed rainfall from the windows of the diner, eyes darting to the clock because you needed to set off in what, twenty minutes? You found yourself saying a silent prayer to whoever was listening for rain to let up for just long enough for your walk across town.

Unsurprisingly, your prayers went unanswered.

You keep your head down, chin tucked into your chest and eyes focused on the pavement beneath you, as you storm your way downtown. Your bag tucked tightly into your side, as if that will stop the unrelenting downpour from seeping through the canvas and onto your clothes. Your clothes stick to your skin uncomfortably, the fabric of your diner uniform rough and irritating and you really regret selling your car now.

The walk to Family Video was 20 minutes on a good day, but today isn’t a good day and you’re practically jogging as the rain smacks across your face almost painfully so you manage to get there in just under 15. You push the door to the store hard and almost trip over the welcome mat as you bound across the threshold.

Your hair is dripping onto your clothes and into your eyes, eyelashes catching the droplets and blinking them away before they can render you blind, and you’re suddenly aware of the fact you’re probably leaving little puddles of rainwater with each step and Steve is sat at the desk watching you and you genuinely wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“Don’t even fuckin’ start, Harrington.” You hiss as you storm from the door towards the staff room, eyes still focused on your feet because if you make eye contact with him you’re sure the embarrassment and anger will kill you on the spot. You sling your bag onto the floor as soon as your in there, the contents of it soaked only slightly less than the clothes on your back, and you have to blink hard to fight off the sting of tears that threaten to spill.

Because the truth of it all, at the core of all the pettiness and bickering and childish comments, was you felt ashamed. Steve had made you feel ashamed for who you were, where you were from and the way that you lived all those years ago. The fiery anger that came in response was the only way you knew to counter that horrible, achy feeling that sat in the pit of your stomach.

You fumble with the buttons on your shirt, fingers slipping against their plastic as you try to change out of the sodden material. Everything feels so difficult, like you’re having to exert so much energy just to change out of your uniform and you have to remind yourself to just take a deep breath, your hands shaking with the slurry of emotions that are twisting in your gut.

You don’t bother trying to pack your clothes away neatly, deciding they’re a lost cause and just tossing them to the floor next to your bag. There’s no way they’ll dry off before you need to walk home anyway. Your cotton t-shirt clings to you, only slightly less suffocating than the button down you’ve changed out of, and you’re really regretting choosing jeans right now because the damp denim is stiff and unyielding as you try to pull them up your legs.

Everything feels too close, too tight on your skin like your circulation is being cut off everywhere the fabric touches. You pull the bobble off your wrist and scrape your hair up into a ponytail, trying to find some relief from the way it’s sticking to your neck.

You linger by the door for a moment, swaying back and forth a little on your feet as you psych yourself up to walk back into the store. You don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror, mascara probably smudged onto your cheeks and cheeks flushed to a bright pink, so you take a deep breath and stride out into the fluorescents. They make your eyes squint a little, the bright cold light painful compared to the dullness of the staff room. You walk to the desk, Steve watching you with an eyebrow raised but for once he doesn’t look like he’s going to come at you with some snide comment.

“I need the key.” You hold your hand out, words short as you avoid eye contact. “For the bathroom.”

Steve just nods at you, hands reaching below the counter and pulling out the oversized key ring that identifies the bathroom key.

You mutter a thank you, the words barely audible as you grab the keys off him and hurry towards the employee bathroom. Your hands are still shaky, and the obnoxious key ring only makes it harder for you to get the key into the lock. After a few tries you manage to get the door open, pulling it with such panicked force that it almost makes you trip over your own feet as you tuck yourself away inside.

The hand dryer mounted to the wall is shoddy and barely warm, but you sit yourself on the cold lino floor and wave your hands under the sensors so the weak stream of air can blow over your head. It only lasts about 30 seconds each time, so you have to keep holding your hands above your head to trigger it again in a vain attempt to dry yourself off.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting under the dryer for, losing count of how many times you have to reactivate it as you stare at the tiled wall opposite you. You’re a little zoned out, the loud hum of the machine above you sending you into a bit of a trance, so when the door of the bathroom opens it jolts you back to reality and has your heart beating faster.

“I really don’t wanna hear it right now.” You mumble, not having to even look to know it’s Steve standing in the doorway. You brace yourself for some snide comment, knowing you’re too drained to give anything back.

“Wasn’t gonna say anything.” It’s probably the first time he’s spoken to you without some snark in his voice. You wouldn’t say he sounded warm right now, not by a long shot, but you could probably settle for genuine. “Was just gonna give y’this.” He’s tripping over his words, forcing them out as he holds out a yellow jumper to you from his spot in the door.

You look up at him now, nose scrunched up in confusion as your eyes move between the jumper and him trying to discern any ulterior motive in his expression. But it’s not there, he’s just blinking at you, big brown eyes filled with something close to sympathy. You hesitate at first, clenching and unclenching your hand as you weigh up your decision, eventually reaching out and taking the jumper off him.

“I won’t tell Keith you bunked off for, like, twenty minutes either.” And then he almost smiles, a twitch of his lips that could be put down to a trick of the light. But it’s there, and you catch it, and for once it’s not laced with sarcasm.

You nod in place of a thank you, words caught in your throat because this is probably the first time Steve Harrington has been nice to you and you still don’t know whether to trust it. He leaves you there in the bathroom again, a few more minutes to yourself to try and gather your thoughts before you have to go out there and actually start your shift.

You debate not putting the jumper on, too proud to give Steve the satisfaction of helping you. He’ll probably hold it over your head for however long, until he needs something from you and can bring up the fact you owe him one. But the dampness of your clothes is making you shiver, and you don’t think you can face working an entire shift answering questions from customers about why you’re so damp.

So you bite the bullet, swallow your pride, and pull it over your head. It’s too big for you, swamping your frame and hanging down to your thighs, but it’s soft and warm and dry, and you hate to admit it but it smells great. Some spicy cedar cologne that Steve has obviously doused himself in, the fact you actually like it makes you shudder. It’s almost enough to make you take it off. Not quite though.

You don’t say anything to Steve when you finally step onto the shop floor, heading straight to the desk to see what needs doing. You have to push the sleeves of the jumper up your arms to stop them falling over your hands as you flick through paperwork, not really taking in the words and having to re-read them a couple of times for them to actually register.

It’s amazing how much time you can pass fronting shelves, especially when you’re spending all your energy on blocking out your surroundings. A couple of customers ask you to help them find movies, and you have to blink yourself back to reality so you can actually think about where they’re stocked.

The computer system is clunky and slow and you have to stop yourself huffing as you wait for it to load up the customers details. You don’t mean to be short with anyone, but god you’re ready for the day to just be over. The screen finally lights up and you slide the tape across the counter to the woman in front of you, she gives you a sorry smile - clearly you’ve not fully dried off yet and must look a little worse for wear - before picking the video up and leaving the store.

“You’re gonna scare the customers off if you keep talking to ‘em like that.” Steve’s voice comes from behind you, making you jump as you turn around to face him.

You furrow your brow. “Can you not be a dick for like, one single day?”

You expect some shitty response back, but instead Steve seems to drop the subject.

“Why’d you walk here anyway? Thought you could drive?” He looks down at you, standing in your damp clothes save for his dry jumper, his voice genuinely curious rather than the usual questioning tone you’ve come to expect.

“I can drive, I sold my car.” Your nose is still sniffly from the downpour and it scrunches up with the ticklish feeling, small lines spreading across the bridge.

“Why’d you sell your car?” He’s leaning back against the counter now, hands behind him holding his weight.

“Jeez what is this, twenty questions?” You grumble, pulling the sleeves of Steve’s jumper down over your hands. He just looks at you expectantly, eyebrows raised in place of an answer. “I’m saving up, to move.”

“You gonna get your own place?”

“No, like, move. Away, I wanna go back west.” You shrug, eyes focused on your hands as they twist in the jumpers cuffs.

“Oh, yeah, I forget you’re not actually from Hawkin’s.”

His words almost make you wince, because of course he forgot. There’s no reason for him to remember, not that you moved here from out of state or that he hounded you about it the moment you did.

You let out a dry laugh, a small shake of your head as you keep your eyes away from him. “Yeah, right.”

There’s a weird silence that hangs in the air then, one that’s normally filled by more spatting or sly smirks but instead it just sits there. Heavy and unaddressed, the pair of you stood waiting for something that didn't come. Steve eventually stalks off, busying himself away from you as you hang around by the desk assisting any other customers that come in that evening.

You occasionally make eye contact with one another, each caught glancing from across the store and quick to turn away. The shift is pretty dead, midweek evenings never drawing that much of a crowd, but you manage to make it to the end without having to say anything more to Steve.

It’s still raining when you venture outside after locking up, bag clutched close to your side as you brace yourself for another walk through the torrential conditions.

You debate using your diner shirt as a makeshift hood, but quickly decide against it. It’d probably just piss you off, and you’d end up soaked either way.

You take a deep breath before you step out into the rain, trying to walk as fast as you can across the parking lot but it’s dark out now and you have to squint to stop the rain getting into your eyes and your feet just won’t carry you as quick as you’d like.

“Hey!” Steve calls out after you, still standing under the shelter of the store. You debate ignoring him, ploughing on through the rain and not looking back, but something inside you makes you turn around. “You want a ride?” He nods towards his car.

You stand for a second, processing what he just said. Surely you misheard, because Steve Harrington offering you a ride home must be a sign you’ve lost the plot or the end of the world is actually here.

“Seriously?” Your hand is across your brow, shielding your eyes as you peer back at him.

“Well, yeah.” He acts like he’s stating the obvious. You’d be mad if he wasn’t offering you a lifeline, or at least a dry journey home.

You chew on the inside of your cheek before nodding. “Okay, thanks.” Your voice is barely audible over the sound of the rain hammering against the tarmac, but you start walking back towards Steve’s car so he can assume you’ve taken him up on the offer.

He waits for you to get into the passenger seat before he gets in himself, the noise of the storm outside muffled by the car's metal shell. It smells surprisingly clean inside; not that you didn’t expect it to, or that you’d given it any thought at all. But the air freshener that swung from the mirror had a pine fresh scent and there was a lack of rubbish inside considering the amount of kids he ferries around.

“You still live in Forest Hills?” Steve isn’t looking at you as he turns the key in the ignition, checking his rear view mirror before he pulls out of his parking spot even though the lot is pretty much empty.

“Yep, still there.” You had your bag on your lap, holding it to your chest as if it was some sort of shield, something to hide behind.

The creak of windscreen wipers along with the hum of the radio fills the car, though it’s barely loud enough to make out what songs are actually playing. You wish Steve would turn it up, let the music slice through the silence that sits between you as he drives.

It’s a nice car, sleek and with leather interiors all in tact. It makes you almost glad you don’t still have your car, which would look like a beaten up tin can next to Steve’s. But it would also mean you weren’t having to accept a ride off him, so maybe you shouldn’t write it off so quickly.

“It’s purely selfish, y’know? Me giving you a ride. Just don’t want my jumper to get ruined.” His voice seems to hold less bite than usual.

You’ve been picking at your nail polish, eyes focused on the flaking red paint as a little pile of it collects on top of your bag. You glance at Steve through your lashes when he speaks, eyebrows raised slightly. “Is this you trying to make conversation?”

“No, just wanted to let you know.” Steve doesn’t take his eyes off the road, and you move your attention back to your nails without giving him a response.

That same unsettling silence fills the car again, you debate turning the radio up yourself but decide against it. You think it’d be rude, which is strange because normally that’d only encourage you around Steve.

“Why’d you hate me so much?”

The question makes you stop scratching at your nail polish. Steve’s looking at you when you glance up this time, only for a split second before diverting his eyes back to the windscreen.

“Are you being serious?” You almost laugh, tongue pressed into your cheek to stop yourself saying anymore.

“Yeah, I mean, I know I kinda sucked in school but-“ He pauses, trying to find the right words. “I d’know.” He can’t.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” It almost comes out as a question. Your head tips back to lean against the headrest as you stare up at the car's fabriced ceiling. When Steve doesn’t say anything, just looks at you again as if waiting for you to continue, you press on. “I’d been here less than a week before you and your dickhead friends decided to rip into me for living in the trailer park. Y’all thought it was so funny, couldn’t get enough of the jokes.”

You see Steve press his lips together, out the corner of your eyes. “Pretty sure you gave me shit too.” His voice is quiet, unsure if he really has a leg to stand on.

“Yeah, because I didn’t wanna be a fuckin’ doormat.”

“I mean, I’m not friends with ‘em anymore.” He shrugs, fingers drumming on the steering wheel at a nervous tempo. “Plus, I tried apologising to you and you told me to ‘get fucked, Harrington’.” He mimics your voice, but it doesn’t seem so spiteful this time. It might make you laugh if you didn’t have your guard up so high.

“Look, I’m real glad you’ve done the 12 steps of assholes anonymous or whatever it is that made you sort your shit out.” Steve laughs and you narrow your eyes at him. “What? What now?”

“Assholes anonymous, was pretty funny.” For the second time that day you think you catch him smiling at you.

His comment throws you off a little. “Yeah, well, I’m a pretty funny person I guess.” You sigh, brows pinching as you try to regain your train of thought. “All I’m saying is if you keep being a dick after you apologise, it kinda defeats the object.”

Steve hums, a small nod because you are right. As much as it pains him to admit it. “In my defence, you also kept being a dick.”

He’s right this time. “Guess I’m pretty stubborn, too.” You don’t notice that you’re almost at the trailer park, rolling up towards the Forest Hills sign that’s distorted by the rain through the windscreen. “You can just drop me at the entrance, don’t wanna traumatise you by making you drive through.” You almost sound like you’re joking, a lilt to your voice that Steve’s never heard before.

“Shut up.” He shakes his head, a small huff of a laugh coming from his nose. “It’s still pouring down, looking out for the jumper, remember?”

“Right, course.” You draw your words out, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips. “If you turn left when you go in, then take the second right.”

Steve nods, his car slowing as he turns into the park and follows your directions. You preemptively hold the straps of your bag, like you’re ready to bolt the second the car lulls to a stop. You don’t though, instead fumbling with your seatbelt and shuffling in your seat as you debate on what to say.

“Thanks for the ride.” It feels a bit weak after the conversation you’ve had during the journey. Like you should be coming out with something more profound or resolving. You have no idea what that’d be, though. “I’ll, uh, wash the jumper and bring it to work.”

“No rush,” Steve waves your words off. “Got plenty of others.”

“Right, checks out.” Steve thinks you don’t sound as short as you usually do, you think so too. “See y’around, Harrington.” You nod at him before finally getting out of the car. The smell of petrichor coming from the ground hits you as soon as you step out, the cold air washing over you as you hurry to your door through the rain.

You look back once before you step inside, and you know that Steve hasn’t left yet because you would’ve heard it but it still shocks you a little to see him waiting for you to get inside. He gives you a nod, barely there especially through the rain, but you return the gesture before you push open your door and cross into the warmth of your home.

You hear Steve’s car start up, stood still by your front door in a confused trance about the last ten minutes until your moms voice snaps you out of it.

—

“Since when did you wear glasses?”

You look up from the computer to Steve who’s just walked in for his shift, the glasses in question slipping down your nose bridge as you do. “I d’know, a few years? I normally wear contacts.” You shrug.

Steve stares at your face, eyes scanning over your features and the round metal frames that circle your eyes. You can’t read his expression, his eyes lingering a little too long and making you feel like you’re under a microscope.

“Jeez Harrington, quit gawping.” Your brow furrows and you can’t hold his stare. You hate having to wear your glasses, but you ran out of contacts this morning and had no other option. You can feel your blood rising to your cheeks and hope the pink glow of the neon Family Video logo is disguising the flush.

“Can I try ‘em on?” There’s a playful smirk on his lips, one that makes you only furrow your brow more as you huff out an annoyed noise.

“Get fucked, no way.”

“Oh c’mon sweetheart, just for a minute.” The pet name is laced in fake sweetness but not in the sarcastic way you’re used to, you hate that you don’t hate it.

“No. Way.” You repeat, arms crossed over your chest like a stubborn child.

But Steve doesn’t care for your answer, leaning over the counter and plucking the frames off your face despite the way you swat at his hands and try to move your head away from his grabbing hands. He puts them on, blinking a couple of times as his eyes adjust to your prescription. “What d’you think? Do I look good?”

“No, you look dumb. Now give them back.” You try to lean over the counter and grab them back but Steve quickly steps out of your reach.

“Don’t be cruel.” He pouts at you and you just roll your eyes. “You really are fuckin’ blind though.” He cracks a grin at you and you know he’s not being mean, just trying to poke and prod at you for some other reason.

“Yeah, so give them back.” You round the counter so you’re in front of Steve now, reaching up to try and get your frames back from the boy's face but he sees that coming from a mile off. Before your fingers can even graze the metal he’s pulled them off his face and held them up over his head. That lopsided grin that you’ve seen an awful lot lately spreads across his lips as you sigh in frustration, all dramatics and not much action to back it up.

You’ve got no hope of getting them back as he holds them over his head, even as you’re toe to toe with him and craning up as much as you can. You tug on his arm, fingers curled over his bicep as you try to pull them towards you but his hand braces your waist to try and hold you off and the heat from his palm has you distracted. You can feel each of his fingers pressing against your skin, so hyper aware of each spot he’s touching.

“You can do better than that.” Steve teases, his hand tightening its grip each time you push up on your toes to try and get closer to the frames. It’s childish and stupid and definitely a waste of both of your time but you can feel it in your cheeks.

“Can you two actually do some work instead of flirting?” You’re too caught up in your mission to get your glasses back to notice Keith coming out of the office, stood near the door looking less than impressed at the two of you.

Steve’s mouth drops into a small ‘o’ at the sound, his eyes finally pulling from yours and his hand brought down to his side. “We’re not-“

“I don’t care, do some work.” Keith huffs, pointing between the two of you and fixing you with a firm glare before stalking back into the office.

You take the opportunity to finally grab your frames back, Steve still distracted by the interruption so it’s easy to pull them from his fingers.

“Nice going, Harrington.” You push the frames back onto your face, tone dripping with soft sarcasm and you flash him a small grin before you return to the computer so you can pick up where you left off.

“S’your fault.” He mutters, lingering near the counter and watching as you scroll through the screen looking.

“Do some work.” You don’t look away from the computer, your hand grabbing the sheet that has all the recent returns written on it that need putting away. “Stop causing trouble.”

“You love it.” You can see him grinning out of the corner of your eye, corners of his lips curled up in confidence even when you scoff at his remark.

You wouldn’t go as far to say you love it, not by a long shot, but you definitely don’t mind his antics as much as you used to. The teasing no longer holding that same bitter weight it used to, instead replaced with something softer that chips away at that grudge that sits deep in your stomach. Uncurling it’s way out and leaving the space empty, waiting to be replaced with something else.

—

You’re going to be late. It’s ten minutes past when your shift at Family Video was supposed to finish and twenty minutes before your shift at the diner is due to start, and Steve isn’t here to take you off, and you’re going to be late.

Your bag is already stored under the desk, you didn’t bother putting it in the staff room today because you knew you’d have to leave quickly. But you can’t leave, because Steve’s not here. You might actually kill him.

You drum your pen on the counter, an antsy beat that reflects your current mood because you need to leave and the clock keeps ticking and you’re still here and you suppose this is what you get for putting your strict time schedule in the hands of Steve Harrington.

The second you hear the bell above the door ring and see Steve bundle in looking a little flustered and pink in the cheeks, you grab your bag up from underneath the counter and swing it over your shoulder.

“Hey, sorry, I know I’m late I-“ Steve’s still catching his breath, but you don’t have time to listen to whatever excuse he has.

“No time, gonna be late.” You hurry round the counter, almost tripping over your own feet with how quickly you’re trying to get out of here.

“No, hey, wait a minute.” He reaches out to grab your wrist as you pass, but decides against it at the last second instead hovering his hand over your arm.

You look between his hand and his face, almost amused by how he’s holding it there without actually committing to the act. “What? Make it quick.” You huff.

“Well, I’m having a movie night tonight with, like, everyone. Real big group, lots of us. And some of the group, not naming names because I respect their anonymity-“ His hands are flailing as he rambles on, dramatic and completely avoiding the point of what he’s trying to say.

“Spit it out, Harrington. I needed to be outta here like, 10 minutes ago.” He’s standing between you and the door, and you’re not quite cruel enough to just walk out in the middle of this clearly very challenging monologue.

“Right, sorry.” He nods, brows pinched a little in seriousness. “Some of us, them, wanted to invite you. To movie night. With everyone.” Every time you think he’s done, he keeps on adding to his sentence.

You pull your bottom lip under your teeth, a little taken aback by his offer. Sure, things had been a little calmer between the two of you since he gave you a ride home. Less bite to your words, the occasional smile at something the other said. Nothing crazy though, certainly not enough to expect an invite to his place - even if the invite was technically from an anonymous party.

“I mean, I have work, at the diner.” You glance at the door, eyes darting around everywhere but Steve’s because you’re on the spot and maybe you feel a little flustered with the shock but you’ll be damned if you let him know.

“That’s fine, you can turn up whenever.” He shrugs, hands shoved into his pockets because he wants to fidget and can feel them getting a little clammy from asking you what is really a pretty simple question. He puts it down to the fact he’s not used to being so nice to you, that’s definitely it.

“And it’s at your place?” You know that by asking all these questions you’re only delaying your exit, getting yourself in deeper trouble when you’re inevitably late, but the whole thing is so bizarre you can’t bring yourself to leave.

“Yeah, but it’s not just my thing, it’s the -“

“The group, yeah, got it.” You interrupt. “I guess I’ll see when I finish, how I’m feeling y’know.”

“Yeah, course, no pressure, I’ll let them down easy if you don’t turn up.” He nods, face still serious but there’s a lightness in his voice now, a bit teasing but nothing like it usually is - or used to be, you suppose.

“Anything else?” You start to make a move towards the door, you’re probably going to have to run to work now through the summer heat and blinding sun but somehow you’re less mad than when Steve first turned up.

“No, no, that’s it, you’re free to go.” He holds his hands up and steps back from the door.

“Great, thanks for the permission.” You roll your eyes but there’s a curl to your lips which gives you away, a tiny silent notion that maybe you’re not so mad at him anymore.

“I’ll see you tonight, think of the group.” He calls after you as you head out, and you turn to give him a brief wave of your hand to acknowledge his words. You have to turn away quickly because you can feel a proper grin trying to work its way onto your face and you’re not ready to deal with why it’s there or what that means. It’s easier to just cast your eyes down at the tarmac that’s glowing from the sun and focus on your feet as you put one in front of the other as quickly as you can without breaking into a sweat.

You spend the entirety of your shift debating on if you should go tonight. You try your hardest to focus, you really do, but taking orders and pouring coffee isn’t exactly complicated work and the customers ask the same questions every day so you don’t even need to think about your answers anymore.

You’re standing behind the counter, elbow resting on the cold surface and your head resting in your hand so you can comfortably stare into space. You must look pretty out of it, chewing on your pen and eyes focused loosely on one of the big windows that looks into the diner, because it’s enough for your boss, an older woman called Eileen, to clock you.

Normally you’re a hard worker, chatting up a storm and always busying yourself with something to pass the time but today you’ve been a little clunky, not particularly bad but noticeably distracted. So when she comes to stand beside you, a finger poking into your side that makes you jump and straighten up, you think you’re about to get a scolding. You were also ten minutes late today, through no fault of your own.

“You got somewhere better to be?” She asks, for a moment you panic but once you look at her and see the knowing smile on her face you know you’re not in trouble.

“Sorry, it’s just,” you weigh up what you’re going to say, because you’re still a bit muddled over it all anyway, “a friends having a movie night, and they invited me and I d’know, guess I’m thinkin’ about going if I’m not out of here too late.”

“A friend, huh?” She raises her eyebrows at you, because since you started working here you’ve never been so distracted by a simple invite from a friend.

“Yeah, well, a group of ‘em really.” You put your now chewed up pen back into your apron pocket, swaying on your feet a little as you avoid eye contact with your boss because you don’t like that questioning tone in her voice. She knows you too well for you to try and bluff.

“Tell you what, you get all that cutlery back there polished up and make sure the stations are tidy enough and you can finish early.”

Your nose scrunches at her offer, because she’s not the sort to lie but you’ve never gotten cut early and you’ve barely said anything at all. Maybe you really were out of it today and she just wanted you out of the diner. “Seriously? Like, actually finish and go?”

She laughs, a warm sound followed by a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “Yeah, kid, get it done and get yourself out of here.”

“I will, holy shit - sorry, I mean thank you.” You blurt out, pressing your lips together to try to fight off the dumb smile that’s really on your face. For no other reason than you’ve got a Friday night off, of course.

“Y’make sure your friend knows that this is a one time thing though, alright?”

The way she says friend and the quirk of her eyebrow has you scurrying away back into the kitchen. “For sure, I will, thank you.” Your voice carries through the pass, and you start to make your way through the mountain of cutlery that’s piled up throughout the shift.

It’s close to 8 o’clock by the time you finish, the sun starting to settle lower in the sky and covered by a haze of clouds. There’s a pink tint to everything outside, a nip in the air that warns of the end of summer though you pay no attention to it. You’d quickly changed out of your uniform back into the same t-shirt and pair of shorts you’d been wearing earlier, clothes being pulled out and shoved into your bag without much care as you hurried yourself out of the diner before your boss could change her mind. Though she did send you off with about half a cherry pie in a to-go box, which she only ever did when she was in a really good mood.

It’s not too far of a walk from Main Street down to Steve’s house, or maybe it is but you’re grateful for the time alone to actually decide on whether to turn up or not. You could easily just go home, take the night off and just relax. Plus, it seemed pretty out there for an invite to suddenly be extended to you. You’ve heard Robin talk about their big movie nights before, although you can’t say you paid much attention to what she said after she mentioned the fact that Steve hosts them.

You have to physically shake your head to yourself, shake off this weird doubt that if you turn up it’s all going to be one big joke that you’re the punchline of. You’re too old for that sort of stuff now, surely.

That cold breeze that you’re so determined to ignore seems to pick up once you start getting more into the suburbs of Hawkin’s, your bare arms and legs nipped at by the first signs of autumn. You know you have Steve’s jumper in your bag, the plan had been to give it to him before you left your shift at Family Video but his late arrival had meant it completely slipped your mind. But you can’t turn up to his house in his jumper, can you? You’ve barely buried the hatchet, the figurative soil still fresh. But you are cold, and it’s that or your shitty work vest which holds about as much warmth as tissue paper, so maybe it’s okay to just put it on for now. Just til you get inside.

It’s not until you’re standing there on the doorstep of the Harrington house that you realise you might’ve actually gone a little bit mad. This should be your worst nightmare, the sheer thought of it should have you turning on your heels and sprinting home. But you’re not, you’re knocking on the door and standing there waiting for someone to answer and you have definitely gone mad.

You can hear a muddle of voices inside, they pick up when you knock and it has you suddenly feeling a little overwhelmed. Maybe you should’ve just gone home. But before you can think anymore about whether you’ve made the right choice by coming the doors being pulled open and Steve’s stood there and he almost looks happy to see you. “Hey, you came.” His eyes scan over you, specifically his jumper, and there’s a smug smile on his face that is definitely less antagonistic than usual. “Nice jumper.”

“Yeah, got an early finish at work.” You tuck your chin to your chest to look down at your torso “Sorry, I was meant to give it to you at work but I had to rush out and then it’s kinda cold out tonight.” You can feel yourself rambling, quickly cutting yourself off. “I brought pie.” You hold up the plastic bag that holds your to-go container.

Steve waves off your apology, or explanation, or whatever it actually is. “It’s cool, keep it as long as you want.” He steps aside so you can cross the threshold into the house. You’ve never been before, but it seems like everyone knows where Steve lives purely from the amount of parties that were held here throughout high school. “You’ll be popular, gonna be invited every week if you keep bringin’ pie.”

“Using someone for their access to pie is pretty morally skewed.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, voice deadpan but you’re not being serious. It takes Steve a moment to register that, so used to the constant tension between the two of you.

“You’re right, I’ll be sure to tell everyone to not be so shallow.”

You breathe out a laugh, and it’s small and barely there but it’s genuine. You and Steve both catch it, eyes locking for a brief moment before you’re both quickly looking away. You’re still not sure what’s changed, but you’re not going to question it right now.

“Go through, get yourself comfortable.” Steve gestures towards his living room, you can hear hushed voices now that you’ve stopped talking but you try to push any urges to run out of your mind. You toe your shoes off before padding through the house, aware of the fact they’re probably filthy and the house looks pristine. Like it’s barely lived in, it could be one of those model homes.

“You’re here!” Robin practically shouts when she sees you, a grin on her face that quickly turns to a look of confusion when she realises you’re standing there in one of Steve’s jumpers. “And you’re wearing one of Ste-“

“I brought pie.” You cut her off rather than yourself this time, placing the bag onto the coffee table that already holds a ridiculous amount of food. It looks like a kids been let loose in a candy store, but then again maybe they have.

“Oh I love your job!” Robin’s quickly distracted by the gift from your work, and you silently thank your boss for unknowingly giving you a way out of what would surely be an interrogation otherwise.

The room is filled with faces that you recognise, some from school like Robin and her girlfriend Vickie, and you sort of know Nancy Wheeler who’s here with her boyfriend Jonathan. The rest are all the kids that frequent Family Video, coming in usually just to pester Steve rather than actually rent anything. They’re all squished up on the biggest couch, shoulder to shoulder as they all cram in so they fit there.

You give a small wave, a quiet hello and smile to everyone - who don’t seem all that surprised to see you there.

You settle yourself onto the floor, onto the pile of cushions and blankets that’ve been laid there as more makeshift seats. You feel out of place, in the house you’ve never been in before with people you don’t really know other than Robin. You plant your hands either side of you as you sit cross-legged, palms pressing down into the plush fabric as some sort of grounding point. It gets a little easier to not think about how you’re the odd one out once the film starts playing, conversations hushed as the opening to The Goonies starts playing.

You keep your eyes trained on the TV when Steve sits down next to you, his knees almost knocking into your own. You know there’s room on one of the couches, but maybe this is him attempting to be polite.

“Didn’t think you’d come.” He leans into your side as he speaks and you can smell the same cologne that lingered on his jumper.

“Neither did I.” You shrug, lifting your chin to the side slightly so you can look at him. The TV screen is lighting you both up, the light changing with each frame and changing the way the contours of your face are hit by shadows.

“Bit strange, you just know where I live.” He teases, and you knock your elbow into his side but it’s kind of soft and doesn’t hold any real anger to it.

“Everyone knows where you live, Harrington. You might as well have written it on the walls of the school.”

“What can I say? I’m a brilliant host.”

You roll your eyes at him, your stare through your lashes kind of soft in the low light. “Wouldn’t know.”

“You do now.” His voice is a little quieter, words spoken low like they’re supposed to stay hidden.

You ignore the way your stomach is twisting up, not in the same way it used to. “Maybe, jury’s still out.”

His bottom lip juts out, all faux upset and big brown puppy dog eyes. “Even after all my hard work? I slaved for hours over the stove.” He gestures to the table piled high with snacks, hands moving lazily and brushing against your knee. His hands are warm, or maybe you’re still cold from the walk over.

“Can you two shut up? Some of us are trying to watch this y’know?” The curly haired boy, you’re pretty sure his name is Dustin, shushes you from the couch.

“You’ve seen this like, twenty times Henderson.” Steve whispers back, like he’s suddenly conscious of keeping his voice hushed.

“Yeah, and I want to see it again. If you wanna flirt, take it elsewhere.”

You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks, a pink flush spreading across the skin and you’re grateful that Steve’s distracted by the boy because you don’t think you’d ever live this down.

“It’s my house, and I’m not -“

“Shut up.”

“Dickhead.” Steve mumbles, but he keeps quiet after that. You’re not sure if he can feel the weird tension that sits in the air between you, you hope he can’t.

There’s a big debate on what to watch next when The Goonies finally finishes, mostly involving the kids who can’t seem to decide on what they want to watch. It’s sweet to watch, if a little bizarre. This is the last sort of thing you imagined to be going on in Steve Harrington's house on a Friday night. After a good twenty minutes of arguing, the red haired girl eventually gets up with a huff and just puts Back to the Future in the VCR. She gives you a small lopsided smile as she sits back down and you recognise her from the trailer park then. She’d not long moved there, just her and her Mom. You smile back, making a mental note to say hi the next time you see her around.

“Y’seen this one before?” Steve whispers to you, cautious to not get another earful from Dustin. There’s a cheeky smile on his face when you turn to him, and it makes you smile too.

“Everyone’s seen Back to the Future.” You mumble, tongue pressed into the side of your cheek to stop yourself grinning too much. Your hands suddenly feel clammy against the blankets, so you shuffle a little so you can hold them in your lap instead.

You can feel Steve’s gaze on you throughout the movie, just for a moment or two before he’s looking back at the screen. You try not to turn your head when you realise, hoping if you keep your eyes on the screen he won’t know that you know.

You look up over to Robin at one point, who’s cuddled up close to Vickie under another blanket and she nods at you. You’re not sure if it’s a nod of approval, or more of a “I told you you’d get along”, or she could just be entirely confused by whatever was happening. It’d make sense, you’re pretty confused yourself.

Jonathan and Steve are both in charge of getting all the kids home at the end of the night, the group split between the two cars. You’re helping tidy up before you leave, grabbing any rubbish you can whilst the kids bicker about who’s going to sit where in the car.

“You have so much explaining to do.” Robin tugs at your arm as you reach down to grab a candy wrapper, Vickie standing off to the side to at least pretend to not be listening.

“I promise there’s really not much to explain.” You shrug, your hands now filled with bright coloured plastic.

“You’re kidding, right? You two hated each other for years and now you’re at his house in his jumper? Get talking.” She pokes your ribs, and you try to wriggle away from her touch.

“I mean, I was told it was an invite from the group.”

“First I’ve heard of it.”

Your mouth hangs open a little, taking a small inhale as you try to process what your friends just said. But you can’t, because then Steve calls your name from his hallway and Robins fixes you with a look and your heads feeling a bit fuzzy as you excuse yourself from the interrogation.

“You want a ride home?” Steve has his car keys dangling from his forefinger as he’s leaning against the frame of his front door.

“It’s cool, I can walk.” You look down to the colourful rubbish in your hands and then back up to Steve. “I do need a bin though.”

“I’ll sort that.” Steve takes the rubbish from you, walking into his kitchen as he continues talking. “It’s dark out, you’re not walking.”

“I walk home all the time.” You pull the sleeves of your, or Steve’s, jumper down over your hands.

“Good for you, not tonight though.” His voice is sarcastic and you narrow your eyes at him once he’s standing back in front of you but it feels different to how it used to, a lot less like a standoff.

“It‘s out of the way, I’m fine to walk.”

“I’m dropping Max off, you live in the same place.”

You huff, eyes locked with Steve’s as he raises his eyebrows at you because he knows he’s won. “Fine, but only ‘cause you’re already going there.”

Robin and Vickie both give you the same look as they pass you on the way to the car, their eyebrows raised and a grin that says you’ve been caught red handed. You’d try to argue a defence but you wouldn’t even know where to begin.

After all the arguing the kids went through to decide who gets shotgun, Steve ends up kicking Dustin out the passenger seat so you can sit there. The boy grumbles something you can’t hear as he clambers into the backseat, but Steve fixes him with a glare and he seems to quiet down pretty fast.

You don’t say much during the drive home, mostly just listen in to the silly arguments Steve, Dustin and Max have. You never pinned Steve as the type to babysit, and maybe this wasn’t quite babysitting, but it was clear how much he cared about them despite all their bickering. It was miles apart from how you two bicker, or used to anyway.

Dustin is the first out, and he actually says goodbye to you as he climbs out, clearly no grudge held over you stealing his spot up front. Once you get to Forest Hills you realise Max’s trailer is opposite Eddie’s as Steve pulls up in front of it, waiting until she’s inside before he starts his car back up.

“I can just get out here if it’s easier.” You gesture out of the window with your thumb.

“It’s fine, you get door to door service with me.” It’s dark in the car, the inky black of the night seeping into the enclosed space but you can tell Steve has some cheesy grin on his face just from the sound of his voice.

It’s only about two minutes before you’re outside your own trailer, the bedside lamp in your room left on for you and emitting a glow through the slatted blinds over your window.

“Y’know, Robin said she didn’t know anything about inviting me tonight.” You don’t know why you say it, wanting to push the words back inside as soon as they come out.

Steve exhales out a laugh, a little awkward because he didn’t really think about the fact you would definitely speak to Robin. “I mean, I did say it was anonymous, so could’ve been anyone else.”

“Right, yeah, I’m sure Nancy Wheeler was really rooting for my presence there.” You raise a fist alongside your words, fake enthusiasm quilted by a genuine smile.

“You can’t get me to reveal anything more, I’ve already said too much.” Steve shakes his head at you and you can’t help but let out a laugh. It’s a proper laugh and it surprises you a little when it comes out, Steve thinks it’s one of the nicest sounds he’s ever heard.

“Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.” You nod your head, closing your eyes as if this were a serious issue. “Thanks for the ride, again. Better be careful or I’ll get used to it and start expecting ‘em.” You tease, finally lifting your bag out the footwell and you’re already halfway out the car before Steve can reply and tell you that he wouldn’t really mind that. It’s probably for the best that he keeps that to himself anyway.

You turn to give him a wave, a small flick of your wrist and a small smile that’s barely visible in the dark but it’s definitely there. You almost begrudge yourself for letting your guard down so much, seemingly so easy to just forget how much you really disliked Steve Harrington. You try to tell yourself you still find him annoying, maybe not to the level of hatred as before but he’s not off the hook. Your arguments with yourself become less convincing by the day.

—

By the end of summer, the rain that so often frequents Hawkins in the fall has already started to pour. Most days there’s at least a shower, and if you’re lucky it’s when you’re tucked away in work. But some days it’s like the heavens have opened and weep for the whole day, no relief or break in the clouds, just a solid slate of grey across the sky.

You know to bring a waterproof with you every time you leave the house, so your clothes can at least stay dry as you march across town to your shifts. But the cold of the rain has you sniffling, nose permanently a little pink along with your cheeks even when you’re out of the cold.

It’s also become somewhat of a routine for Steve to drive you home if you’re both working that day, the same argument each time of you insisting that you’re fine to walk or you can call a cab and him being adamant that he’s giving you a ride and that’s that. He’ll even come back to pick you up a couple of times when he’s finished a few hours earlier than you, waiting in his car in the parking lot as you wrestle with the keys to lock up. He’ll try to say he was passing by anyway, you think that he’s lying but you choose not to say.

You’re wiping down the last few tables of the diner, the sun set a good few hours ago now and the harsh fluorescents are making your temples pulse with the threat of a headache after being here all day. Your feet ache, you’ve barely been off them for the last twelve hours and even though you’re used to it, it doesn’t make the pain any less irritating. The venues empty now, at least, so you can focus on speeding through the last of the close and finally return to your bed.

The bell above the door jingles, an indicator that someone pushed it open and you try to stifle the groan that wants to spill from your mouth. You’re too tired to deal with some disgruntled customer who’s about to be told they can’t get a burger.

You toss your cleaning rag onto the still damp table, a little dramatic with it as you smooth out your apron and head to the host desk. “Sorry, but we’re all closed up now.” You call through before you even reach it, hoping they might turn round and leave before you have to face them.

“Damn, can’t even get a coke?”

You peer round the curve of the diner to see Steve standing at the host desk, hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans and he gives you a stupid grin and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself grinning back. “Nope, not even a coke.” You’re at the desk now, still behind it so it serves as a divider between you and Steve.

“Oh, that’s a shame. Was really craving one.” He shrugs his shoulders,

“Why’re you really here, Harrington?” You ask even though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

“Told you, I was craving a coke. But seen as I’m here, and you’re nearly done, I can give you a ride home.” He says it so casually, like it’s just a coincidence and definitely not because he knew you were closing tonight and for some reason he really doesn’t like the thought of you walking home alone in the dark.

“Y’gonna give me a say in that?” You look up at him through your mascara coated lashes, a little smudged under your eyes after your long day.

“Probably not, no.” He shrugs again.

You sigh, all false dramatics and Steve knows it. “Fine, you’re gonna have to wait around for me to finish though.” You gesture to the booths that line the front windows.

He sets himself down in one of the garishly red booths, the leather worn and stitching frayed and still a little damp from where you’ve wiped them down.

You disappear back into the restaurant, just for a couple of minutes, only to return with a glass filled with coke and you set it down wordlessly in front of him. You don’t wait for him to respond, instead moving straight back out of his eyeline to finish up your close. You don’t want him to think it means more than it does, or maybe you don’t want to think about what it means. It’s one of the two.

It doesn’t take you long to finish up your jobs, you’re so used to doing them that you could probably get them done blindfolded or in your sleep. You say a quick goodbye to your manager, gathering up your coat and bag that you’d tossed into the office when you’d arrived and bundling them up into your arms.

When you get back to Steve he’s still sipping on his coke, eyes watching you pad over with your belongings clutched to your chest.

“You need me to pay for this before we go?” He asks, straw resting on his lips so he can go back to drinking it as soon as he’s spoken.

“Nah, you’re good.” You shuffle your bag in your arms when you feel it slipping from your grasp. “Just don’t tell on me.”

Steve mimes zipping his mouth shut, and holds out the now empty glass to you. You raise an eyebrow at him, your arms full and he retracts the glass when he realises there’s no way you’re grabbing it.

“Just put it on the bar.” You turn your body to look back to the bar, and Steve shuffles himself out the booth so he can place the glass on the end of the counter.

“C’mon then, trouble.” His smile grows when you roll your eyes at his nickname, a scoff falling from your lips that holds no real weight.

“Don’t call me that, asshole.” You grumble, walking ahead of Steve and out of the diner, the bell ringing out as you pull it open to leave.

“Don’t call me asshole, asshole.” He mimics your voice, and you turn to shoot him a half hearted glare.

“You’re a nightmare, givin’ me a headache.” You wait at the passenger door, looking over the roof to him and the amused look on his face.

“You don’t mean it.” He hums, eyes fixed on you as he unlocks the car.

“Totally do.” You hold his stare just for a moment before fumbling with the door handle amongst your belongings, huffing a little as you struggle to pry the door open. You manage it, though, with a little stubbornness.

As soon as you’re in the car you toss your stuff in the footwell, your bag has spent an increasing amount of time there to the point where there’s probably various things that have fallen out rolling around there. Pens and hair elastics and maybe a lip gloss, all littered on the floor waiting to be found.

“You got any decent music yet?” You root through his glove box, even though you know he’s definitely not bought anything new since you last looked through his cassettes.

“They’re all decent.” Steve counters, hands circling the wheel as he reverses out the parking spot and onto the road. “You’re just uncultured.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry I ever insulted Bon Jovi.” You pull the tape out and tap it against your hand, the hard plastic leaving your palm a little red.

“Well, that one’s not mine.”

“Don’t lie to me, Harrington.”

“It’s not.” He sulks, and you let out a small laugh as you push it back into its place and close the glove box.

“It’s okay, I’m not judging.” You tip your head back against the seats headrest, twisting so you can look at Steve. He glances at you out the side of his eyes, a look of I know you are in the quick stare. “Someone’s gotta like them Steve, it’s good you’re taking one for the team.”

Steve turns to look at you properly, brows pinched together a little and he looks almost confused.

“What? Oh come on, I was just teasin’.”

“You called me Steve.”

“Well, yeah, that’s your name?” Your brows furrow now, your faces mirroring each other.

“You never call me Steve, it’s always Harrington or some stupid insulting nickname.” He chuckles over the last part, face softening slightly.

“Oh. Right.” You pause, mouth twisting up a little as you think about what he’s just said. “I guess you’re right.” You can feel Steve still looking at you as both sit in silence, your eyes flicking between him and the dashboard. “Stop staring at me, you’re makin’ it weird.”

“It is weird.” He laughs, and you huff, sinking further into your seat with your arms crossed across your body. It’s like you’re trying to make yourself smaller, shrink yourself down to stop him staring at you.

“You’re weird.” You grumble, but there’s nothing really behind your words.

“Y’know you used to be a lot better at comebacks.” He teases, and you rack your brain to try to come up with some witty response but everything feels a little jumbled and the words won’t pull together in a way that makes sense.

“Yeah, well, I’m tired. You tire me out with tryna navigate your shitty music selection.”

“Oh do I?”

“Yeah, you do.”

Steve laughs and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, blood pumping harder and flushing your skin and you’re grateful that the streetlights don’t offer much clarity because you don’t want him picking up on your blush too.

You stay silent until you reach the trailer park, words all caught up in your throat that won’t come out even if you want them too. Steve doesn’t seem to mind though, just keeps glancing at you with a smug smile on his face because he knows you’re flustered, as much as you try to play it off. You caught yourself off guard, and so did he, and now you’re too busy in your own head to actually say anything.

The car pulling to a stop eventually brings you out of your head, back to reality and to the front seat of Steve’s car. You look out the window to your trailer as it sits empty in the dark, no lights left on so it's almost completely enveloped by the night sky, the faintest outline of it visible through the inky black.

You reach for your belongings in the footwell, wringing the straps of your bag in your hands as you press your lips together trying to come up with the words you want to say. Or any words at all at this point.

“Nobody home?” Steve nods his head towards your unlit trailer, and you look over at him with wide eyes, blinking a little as the words process that he’s talking about your home and not about the fact you’ve sat in silence for the last five minutes.

“Oh, no, my parents are travelling for a couple weeks.” You stumble over your words, like your brain has forgotten how to communicate with your voice box properly. You let them sit in the air for a moment, mouth still slightly agape like you’re not quite done. “Do you wanna come in? I’ve got a couple joints rolled, if that’s your sorta thing.” You can’t meet his eyes, instead staring past him into the night beyond the window.

“Depends.” Steve draws the word out, and you have to look at him to try and read his expression despite the fact it’s probably the last thing you want to do right now. “You got any Bon Jovi?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Shut up, absolutely not.”

“I suppose I’ll cope.” He sighs, all over dramatic as he pulls the keys out the ignition and holds them in his palm. “C’mon then, lead the way.”

You push yourself out the passenger door, stumbling a little over your own feet in the dark as you try to dig through your coat pocket for your keys. It probably doesn’t take you that long to find them, but in the dark it feels like time drags on and there’s a million eyes on you watching your every move because what on earth were you doing bringing Steve Harrington into your home out of choice? Maybe it was a moment of temporary insanity, maybe it’ll wear off soon.

You have to kick the bottom left corner of your front door to get it open, some internal part of it sticking and you curse yourself for never actually sorting it because the world around you is as good as silent and the sound of the impact of your shoes on the plastic seems to ricochet around you.

Everything feels a bit less strange once you knock the lights on, the buttery yellow glow over the familiar surfaces seeming to settle your mind. You stand aside to let Steve in, closing the door behind him and cutting off the cold night breeze that was leaking in.

“Stay here, I’m gonna go get changed.” Your hands are still full so you have to jutt your head towards your bedroom, Steve only nodding in response as he gazes around the room.

Your parents have a habit of collecting nic nacs and trinkets from their travels, and they litter every possible surface they can around the living room. It makes for an interesting space to look at, you suppose. Although it could also be bordering on just looking cluttered.

Your room feels a lot calmer, and emptier, in comparison. Most of the decorations are taped to your walls, old tour posters your parents had held on to mixed in with photos of you and your friends. You have a little clutter on your desk, but it’s mostly a mix of pens and pencils and various makeup products you’ve been too lazy to put away. It looks lived in, really. Homely and an accumulation of yourself, everything with its own place despite the mess.

You sling your bag and coat to the corner that’ll be covered by your door once it’s open, your diner uniform swiftly following onto the now growing pile. You pull on a pair of grey sweatpants, that you’re fairly sure used to be Eddies given how you have to pull the waist tight and roll it down in order for them to fit, and a vest top that skims your midriff and leaves a band of skin showing across your stomach. You’re too tired to really care about how you look, contacts removed and glasses replacing them as you glimpse at yourself in the mirror. It’s fine, really. You’re in your space, after all.

With a pair of well worn slippers replacing your trainers, you pad out your room and back to Steve, who doesn’t look like he’s moved an inch since you left him there. “When I said stay here I didn’t mean, like, that specific spot.”

“Oh, yeah, I know, I was just lookin’ at… everything.” Steve nods, eyes moving from one of the many ceramic plates lined up on a windowsill over to you. “The glasses are back.” He grins at you, and you feel your nose scrunch up as you set him with a stare.

“Hands off them this time.” You point at him, his hands raising to his side in defence. “We can smoke in my room, just ignore the mess.”

“S’cool, I don’t mind mess.” He shrugs, and you quickly turn on your heel to walk back to your room.

“Sit.” You gesture over to your bed whilst you scour through one of your desk drawers for the little tin you keep your joints in. You pull various notepads and loose papers out, piling them up on top messily until you feel the cool metal brush your fingers and pull it out. You know there’s a lighter somewhere on the top, amidst the now larger pile of junk. You shove the papers back in, the crisp noise covering the sound of you humming to yourself as you roll pencils and make up tubes around to reveal the well worn lighter. The print worn off where you’ve held it over the course of the last few months.

The joint hangs from your lips when you turn around, snorting a laugh at the sight of Steve perched on the edge of your bed. “You can sit normally, y'know?” The words are muffled into the roach as you flop yourself onto your bed, pulling an empty can off your bedside table that’s been functioning as an ashtray. You cross your legs so it can lean against your shins as you light up, taking a deep inhale as Steve adjusts himself to be sitting a little more comfortably, less like he’s waiting in the doctor's office.

“Your rooms nice, suits you.” He looks around the space before landing on you, joint still between your lips as a smokey haze starts to fill the room.

“Cheers, Harrington.” You hold the joint out to him after taking one last drag, poised between your pointer and middle finger, your equivalent to an olive branch. “M’sure the room appreciates it.”

As soon as Steve inhales he can feel the warmth of the smoke hit his chest, flowing down his throat and spreading across him. “You like living here? In the trailer park, I mean.” His question strikes up some sort of response in you, a panic that you thought you’d moved past but your face must show it because he’s quick to clarify. “I didn’t mean it like that, like, in a bad way or anything. I was just asking, probably a stupid question.”

You shrug, and you can feel yourself cooling a little, shoulders relaxing and breathing deeper. “I guess, it’s just the norm for me though. Always lived in a trailer park.” Steve passes the joint back to you and you’re grateful for the buzz it’s giving your mind.

“It’s cosy, feels like a proper home. Like, real people actually live here.” Steve realises he probably sounds like he’s already high, and maybe it is hitting him a little quickly but it’s mostly the fact he’s just not good with his words.

“As opposed to fake people?” You hand the joint back to him.

“No, well, kind of.” He flicks the joint off into the can, hand brushing your leg as he reaches over. “My house is usually empty, other than me, it doesn’t really feel like a home y’know?”

You press your lips together, corners pulling down into a small frown at his words. “Sounds pretty shitty.”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs. “I forget it’s not like that for everyone ‘til I’m somewhere like this.”

You never really think about the fact you’re actually lucky to have a good relationship with your parents, a close knit family unit even if it is contained in the small trailer. You must be zoning out a little because Steve knocks his hand against yours to pass you the end of the joint. You take it off him, fingers almost tangling together in the lazy movements of your hands. “At least you’ve got a good group of friends, you guys all seem really close.” You smile at him, taking one last toke of the joint before dropping into the can where it fizzles against the last of the soda in there.

“Yeah, we are, s’nice.” The haze of smoke fills your small room now, and Steve’s words are slow and soft because his heads a little fuzzy and you’d be lying if you said yours wasn’t as well.

You push yourself off your bed, feet sliding across the ground more than stepping as you mooch over to your cassette player, finger tracing over the tapes as you read over the titles you’ve seen a million times. “Any requests?” You call over your shoulder, Steve watching you from your bed with a slack smile.

“I can go get the Bon Jovi from my car?”

“Fuck off.” You shake your head at him, turning back to the player but not before he catches a glimpse of your smile. You settle on a Fleetwood Mac tape, slotting it in and turning the volume down low so it’s more of a background hum as Second Hand News starts playing. You grab a bottle of nail polish off your desk on your way back, returning to your cross legged position opposite Steve as you start painting them, tongue peaking out a little as you focus on the small brush.

You can feel your glasses slipping down your nose, a careful finger pushing them up whilst trying to keep the wet polish intact. Your eyes squint slightly in focus, lids feeling a little heavy from the smoke and your body wants to move a lot slower than you’d like it to so your strokes are a little messy as you apply the black lacquer on the last couple of nails. Carefully twisting the cap back on the bottle, you place it on your bedside table and hold your hands up to admire your work, though there’s arguably not much to admire with the specks of polish that dot the skin next to your nails. “What d’you think? Are they a total mess?” You hold your hands out to Steve, wiggling your fingers a little so the sheen of the paint catches the light from overhead.

“Nah, they look great, a real masterpiece.” Steve glances at them briefly, but even when you’re focused on your nails you can feel his eyes on you.

“What? Did I get some on my face?” You run the pad of your forefinger across your nose and the apples of your cheeks to try and feel for any stray polish, though if it was there you’ve probably just made it worse.

“No, no. Jus’ looking at you.” He pauses, lips pressed together as he takes a deep inhale through his nose. “You’re really pretty, y’know?”

Your brows pinch together, a little confused and your brains a bit too foggy to really process the fact that Steve’s just complimented you. “You’re high, Harrington.”

“A little, yeah. But you are, always thought you were.” He shrugs, leaning back on his palms and head a little crooked as he looks at you through his heavy lashes.

“Oh, really? That why you were so mean to me in school?” You ask, but you don’t sound accusing, maybe it’s the weed making everything a little softer. “What’s next? Pulling my hair in the playground?” Your lips pull into a smirk, a little too sweet for your words to hold any venom.

“Hey, you can’t blame me for thirteen year old Steve’s behaviour. S’not like that’d be my method of choice now.” Something about the way he’s speaking has your heart beating a little quicker, chest suddenly feeling heavy because it feels like he’s saying something more and you can’t deny that you want to know what that is.

“Oh yeah? What’re these methods then, hotshot?” You sit up a little, shifting in your spot because you can feel a tension in the room. It’s like you’re teetering on a ledge, and any tiny movement will send you plummeting into something entirely unknown.

“I can show you, if y’want.” Steve’s almost whispering, voice so soft that you’re not sure you heard him correctly. But the way he’s looking at you, eyelids a little heavy and pupils blown, confirms that you did.

You pull your bottom lip under your teeth, eyes scanning over his face to try and discern any sign of a laugh, trying to wait him out and see if he cracks but the seconds pass and he’s still looking at you like you’re the only other person on the planet right now. “Yeah, you can show me.”

The words have barely left your mouth before he’s moving into you, big hand cupping your cheek and thumb grazing over the trail of freckles that spread across the high point there. You feel the breath hitch in your chest at the contact, reminding yourself to keep breathing as Steve brings his face to yours. His nose nudges yours, a gentle movement that has you tilting your head to the side a little. He follows your movement, lips hovering over yours for a moment and your eyes are squeezed shut because you’re still not entirely sure this isn’t a joke and you’d rather not open your eyes and find out.

But then his lips are on yours. Your eyes are still closed and you’re still telling yourself to breathe and Steve Harrington is kissing you in your bedroom.

It’s soft at first, gentle and barely there, but then you lean forward to bring yourself closer to him and reciprocate his movements and it’s like a switch has flipped in both of you.

Your hands move from their place in your lap to behind his neck, arms draped over his shoulders and fingers brushing into the hair at the nape of his neck. The light touches have Steve kissing you with more urgency, lips parting a little more and tongues brushing against one another and then you sigh and it sends Steve’s head spiralling because you sound so pretty and it’s him who pulled that sound from you.

He keeps a hand pressed against your cheek, guiding you as he licks into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip a little, and the other sits on your waist. His fingers brush the bare skin at your waist and it has your entire body feeling like it’s being electrified, each slight movement of his hand sending another current through your veins.

He pulls away slightly, lips still so close to your own that you feel them move as he speaks. “”Are they workin’?”

You can feel the smile on his lips, and your breath fans against his lips as you exhale a small laugh. “Yeah, think so.”

Then he’s back on you, lips peppering kisses on your mouth and cheeks and jaw, trailing down your neck and sucking on that sensitive spot by your collarbone. You inhale sharp, biting down on your lip that’s a little swollen from kissing to try and stop yourself whining as he leaves purple marks along your throat. It doesn’t work very well, the noise coming out like a whimper and his grip on your waist only tightens when he hears it.

“God, y’sound so pretty.” He murmurs into your neck, kissing over the spattering of pretty lilac bruises that he’s left behind.

“Steve.” You’re definitely whining now, voice all desperate and fingers pulling at his shirt to try bring him back to your lips again.

He obeys your tugging, planting soft kisses on your mouth and pulling back to look at your face in between them. You're looking up at him through your lashes, eyes all bright and needy and probably the softest he’s ever seen them look.

“Can I touch you? Is that okay?” He punctuates his questions with more kisses, loose strands of hair falling down into his face and brushing against your skin.

Your heart feels like it’s rattling around inside your chest, desperate to break out of its confines because it feels so constrained having to stay inside there. You nod at Steve, mouth still parted a little as your chest rises and falls with your heavy breathing.

“C’mon, use your words. Normally got so much to say to me, honey.” There’s a smirk on his lips and a teasing to his voice but the way he’s looking at you gives him away, shows you he wants it as bad as you do.

“Don’t be a dick, Harrington.” You breathe, a smirk matching his spreading over your face. You lean up to kiss him again, his bottom lip pulled between your own as you move away again. “Y’can touch me, want you to.” You whisper the words, just loud enough for Steve to hear, and he’s already moving you so you’re lay beneath him with a hand beside your head holding him above you.

“Back to surnames already? Seems cruel.” He pouts, a finger running along the waistband of your sweatpants and the sensation makes you feel a little dizzy.

You shift up onto your elbows, just slightly so you can brush your nose against his and hold his gaze. “If y’want me to say your name, you’re gonna have to make me.”

Steve almost feels his heart stop at your words, the way you speak softly has his mind running a million miles an hour and his head spinning out. “Oh, I plan to.”

His hand moves slowly past your waistband, movements calculated and teasing but you keep your composure as he trails his fingers closer to your core. His pace is agonising, pulling back each time he edges closer so when his fingers finally brush over the growing wet spot on your panties you can’t help but let a small moan slip from your mouth.

“Fuck, y’already wet, huh? That all for me? Got you all riled up?” His words are smug but you can see how his chest is rising and falling quickly and his pupils are blown out as he gazes down at you.

“You ever stop runnin’ your mouth?” Your words come out breathy, little piques in your tone as he grazes over your covered clit.

He chuckles, fingers finally pushing aside your underwear after what felt like an age of teasing. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

“In your dreams.” You barely get your words out before your breath gets stuck in your chest from Steve’s fingers rubbing circles against your clit, eyes closed and head tilting back from the sensation that’s travelling up over your whole body. “Fucking hell, Steve.”

One of your hands holds your weight, still sat up off the bed so you can bring your lips to Steve’s between your moans, and the other grips at his shoulders. Nails digging through the material of his shirt as you try to find purchase as his fingers continue their steady motions across your clit.

When he finally slides a finger inside you, your slick meaning he can slip in easily after he’s riled you up, you let your body drop against your bed. Your grip on his shoulders pulls him down with you, his other hand holding him above you. You tug at his shirt, wordlessly urging him to pull it over his head as you pant beneath him. He only stops his motions to remove it, tossing it aside to the floor of your room and you follow suit with your own which leaves your chest completely bare.

“Jesus, you’re so hot.” It’s more like he’s talking to himself than you, eyes scanning over your body and then back to your face as he returns his hand to its place between your thighs.

“Shut up.” You murmur, smile tugging at your lips and you can feel the blood running to your cheeks.

“You are, y’so beautiful.” He kisses you on your cheek, the corner of your lips, trailing them down onto your chest as he pumps his fingers inside of you.

You trail a hand up his bare arm, over his shoulder and to the nape of his neck so you can thread your fingers into his hair. Tugging a little when he finally slips another finger inside, stretching you out and pulling more moans from you as the coil inside your stomach winds itself tighter and tighter.

“Oh my god, Steve, please.” You find yourself begging, everything all too much yet not enough at the same time. Your hips buck against his hand, desperately trying to chase your high as you reach a hand between the two of you so you can palm at Steve’s crotch. Even through the denim you can feel how hard he is, straining against the confines of the fabric and you barely even have to touch him before he’s groaning into your skin in between kisses.

“What d’you want, jus’ tell me and I’ll give it to you.” His voice is strained as you continue to grope him through his jeans, pressing himself harder into your hand as he speeds up the motions of his fingers inside you.

“Want you to fuck me.” Your practically whining at this point, and you can feel your walls clenching around Steve’s fingers as he works you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, yeah, I want that too.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so needy. “You got a condom?”

“I’m on the pill.” Your words send Steve’s head a little dizzy, a deep exhale coming from his mouth and you take it as disappointment. “S’fine if you don’t want to, though.”

“Are you kidding?” Steve locks his eyes with your own, both still a little hazy from smoking and the intensity of the moment. “I want to.”

With his words your already fiddling with the button of his jeans, tugging at the denim and he pulls his fingers out of you so he can tug them down along with his boxers and discard them onto the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. You can see how hard he is now, tip already leaking as he helps you out of your own sweatpants so you’re left in only your panties.

You wiggle your body a little as you slowly pull them off, suddenly feeling a little too exposed despite all that's already happened tonight. But the way Steve’s staring at you, like you’re a work of art, something made just for him, makes you feel a little less self conscious.

“You sure you want to do this? We don’t have to.” His voice is soft and you know that you could turn him down now and it’d be fine, whatever grudge that was held between you is now buried no matter what you say. But you do want it, not even 24 hours ago it might’ve killed you to admit it but not now. Not here, in your room with Steve looking down at you like you’re the only girl in the world.

“I want it, want you, Steve.” You lean up and kiss him softly, a break from the teasing and intensity of your touches. Something more gentle, in place of an apology or explanation, something that says I don’t just want you now, I want you for good. Steve kisses you back like he understands.

Steve pushes into you slowly, gradually hitting deeper inside you with each thrust and it has you squeezing your eyes shut tight and practically seeing stars. When he finally bottoms out, he stays there for a moment, the pair of you breathing in sync. He can feel your walls squeezing him, and he has to take a moment to collect himself to stop himself finishing then and there.

Your arms hang over his shoulders, one hand running through his hair and the other tracing lines on his back. You almost feel bad for how your nails dig into his skin when he starts moving again, but when he moans in your ear you don’t feel so guilty anymore.

“Feels so good, wanted this for so long y’know? Think it would’ve solved all our problems.” Steve’s rambling on, a little drunk on how good you feel and how you look underneath him. “Don’t think m’gonna last long, keep clenching around me and it’s driving me crazy.”

Your bedroom is filled with the sounds of your moans, bed creaking and it’s all a little dirty but you’re too fucked out to care. The knot in your stomach is still tugging tighter from when Steve had his fingers inside you, and it’s only getting more intense now his cock is nudging that spot inside you that you can never reach on your own. “I’m close too, y’feel so good Steve.” Your voice is sickly sweet and only pushes Steve closer to the edge.

“Jesus, fuck.” Steve runs a thumb across your cheek, eyes locked with yours as he pounds into you harder and the sounds you’re making are bordering on pornographic - you’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so clearly into it, kissing you hard and a little messy and you can feel that coil in your stomach about to snap.

“M’gonna cum.” You can barely force your words out, especially when Steve moves a hand back to your clit and begins rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves. It only takes a few more thrusts for you to go tumbling over the edge, walls clenching around him tight as you grip his shoulders and leave little crescent marks as a reminder of the night.

You can tell Steve’s close too, the way he’s moaning your name and his pupils are blown as he watches you unravel. His thrusts get a little sloppy, quicker but his rhythm is messy and when you drag your nails down his back it’s the final push for him. You can feel it as he cums inside you, warm ropes filling you up and he keeps thrusting into you slowly even after he’s finished. His breathing is heavy as he looks down at you, bodies tangled and a little sweaty but he still thinks you look beautiful.

You feel empty when he finally pulls out of you, like your body had gotten used to him being there. You whine a little at the feeling, but Steve’s quick to kiss away the noise as he strokes your hair.

“This mean we’re friends now?” You ask, a little teasing as you smile at him.

Steve shifts his body from its place over you, looking through the mess of clothes on the floor to find his boxers amongst them. He hands you his t-shirt, and you’re not oblivious to the fact he’s giving you his clothes to wear instead of your own. He looks over to your light switch and then back to you, going to flick it off when you respond with a nod. “You do this with all your friends?”

“Well, no. But y’gotta at least ask me on a date before you get to pass that point.” You pull his shirt over your head, the smell of his cologne a comfort as you settle into it.

“What, you wanna be wined and dined, huh?” He’s grinning at you, and you shuffle up to let him lay next to you in your bed.

“Obviously, Harrington. Get with the program.”

“C’mon, surely I’m past the surname point now.” His finger traces along your jaw as he lays facing you, following the curves of your face and nudging it closer to his.

“Maybe, I’ll think about it.” You’re still grinning as you kiss him, just for a moment but even after you pull away you keep your face close to his.

His arm rests over your waist as you cuddle into him, a soothing weight that helps to lull you quickly into a sleep. You slot into his body easily, head on his chest and his chin resting atop of it, falling into a position that feels almost too natural, like it’s something you should’ve been doing for a long time before.

You’re not sure what time it is when you get woken by a knock at your door. Though a knock is probably too gentle a word, it was more like a repetitive slap against the plastic that has you grumbling as you try to wriggle out of Steve’s grip and out of bed. You pull your joggers on, eyes still a little fuzzy from sleep as you make your way out your room and to whoever was pounding on your door.

“Alright, alright.” You’re mumbling so whoever’s out there definitely didn’t hear you. You pull the door open the door to see Eddie standing there, stupid smug grin on his face as you stand there still half asleep. “Jesus, Eddie, what is it?”

“Harringtons here, isn’t he?” He sounds almost giddy with it, because he knows he’s right. He looks behind him to Steve’s car, then back to you as you stand there in Steve’s shirt. And then he notices the spattering of purple bruises along your neck, and that’s enough to send him over the edge with laughter. “Oh my god, I knew it! I knew this would happen!”

You stand there, blinking the sleep out your eyes because you’re still way too tired to be dealing with Eddie and his apparent victory. “D’you actually want something? Or is this it?” You point down to him, the boy still grinning wide and you’re half tempted to just slam the door in his face.

“This is it.” He shrugs. “Just needed proof, and those-“ He wiggles his finger towards your neck “-are proof.”

“Fantastic, thanks so much for waking me up for this Eds.” You huff, hand already on the door ready to shut him out. “Now get lost.” There’s nothing cruel to your voice, Eddie knows you too well to take any offence.

“See y’later, you little harlot.” That’s enough for you to slam the door in his face.

You pad back into your bedroom, Steve groaning as you clamber over him to try and get back into place but inevitably disturb him as you do so.

“What was that?” His voice is thick with sleep, a little gruff and you tuck your face back into his chest with a sigh.

“Jus’ Eddie. Gloating ‘cause he got proof.” Your voice is muffled, lips brushing against his skin as you speak.

“Proof of what?” Steve’s hand trails lazily up your spine, a barely there touch that could easily lull you back to sleep.

“This, us, I guess.”

“Oh, well, that’s not so bad, is it?”

“Nah, I don’t mind.” You move your head away so you can look at Steve, eyes fighting to stay open and a sleepy smile on your face. “D’you?

Steve shakes his head, eyes all doting on you even in his tired state. “I don’t mind at all.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem

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steves-strapcollection · 10 months

Text

would you find me in the stars?

Something soft I wrote for my dear friend @scarcrossdlvrs who wanted a hug but, cruelly, we're separated by two time zones and an international border 💕 Posting for anyone else who needs a hug.

Eddie sat on the steps of the porch on his and Wayne’s new trailer, arms propped on his knees with a cigarette pinched between two fingers, largely forgotten. The trailer park and the forest surrounding it were silent, something that was rare and usually welcome, but it just made Eddie itch. His head was swimming with thoughts he knew weren’t true—that no one cared about him, he was a burden, everyone wished he’d died in the Upside Down and spared them the trouble.

At least if there was an argument happening in one of the other trailers, or animals making a ruckus, Eddie’s spinning mind would have something to latch onto and he could break out of the spiral in his mind.

But no, the world was silent while his head was loud, and he never felt more like a speck than he did right then. Insignificant, unnoticeable, forgettable, dirty. The world was silent, empty, devoid of life, affirming his lonely fears.

“—Eds?”

Eddie startled as a hand waved in front of his face, dropping his cigarette into the dirt between his feet as he looked up with wide eyes, meeting a concerned, hazel gaze.

“Harrington?” Eddie asked, glancing around the still silent trailer park. Steve’s car was parked just a few feet away, which meant the man drove up, parked, got out, and even spoke to him and Eddie didn’t snap out of his swirling thoughts.

Steve’s mouth tensed at the corners for a second before he asked, “You okay, Eddie? You were pretty far away.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Eddie lied weakly, grimacing at how obvious the lie was. “What’s—what’re you doing here?”

Steve looked around then back at Eddie. “I just got off work,” he said as if it explained everything.

“I’m not exactly on your way home, Steve,” Eddie pressed when Steve didn’t elaborate further and Steve snorted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I got off work and wanted to come over and see you, to check on you, y’know?” Steve admitted, shocking Eddie to his core before he held up a plastic bag. “I brought some take-out from that new Chinese place that opened right by Family Video.”

Seeing the bag of food had Eddie’s stomach rumbling loud enough that Steve could hear it. “Shit, I’m starved, c’mon in,” Eddie said with a forced smile, and he carefully got up off the steps, gesturing for Steve to go inside ahead of him.

The two of them make quick work of eating the food, the conversation limited between them, but it was a nice sort of quiet. It was a shared quiet, and slowly Eddie felt himself lifting out of that mood from earlier. When Steve dropped one of the empty cartons he was scraping out with his fork with a sigh, Eddie looked at the clock on the wall. He wasn’t ready for Steve the head out, but he also couldn’t justify asking him to stay.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you get to the rest of your rounds?” Eddie said, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

Steve looked up at Eddie with a perplexed expression. “Rounds? What rounds?”” he asked.

Eddie floundered at his confusion. “You—you’re not checking up on everybody?” he asked, his voice a bit quiet.

“No, man, I mean sometimes I do, but usually I’m good with using the radios,” Steve replied, shrugging.

“Then why’re you here?” Eddie asked, his head a bit hazy as he tried to understand what Steve was saying.

Steve’s face got a bit pinched with his own confusion before it softened, unbearably so. “I came to check on you and hang out. If you want me to leave—”

“Why, though?” Eddie asked, a bit more forcefully, his eyes stinging with the emotion that was welling up.

“I was thinking about you while I was at work, then I realized I hadn’t seen you in a couple days,” Steve explained, reaching across to wrap a hand loosely around Eddie’s wrist. “What’s going on, Eds?”

It was the little nickname that did it, the cute little name that only Steve called him these days, and Eddie couldn’t blow Steve off when he was being earnest like this, even if he wanted to.

“You ever feel like you’re just… completely fucking alone? That no one gives a shit about you? That you survived one too many near-death experiences to be worth the trouble?” Eddie asked quietly, and the whole world seemed to settle just a little bit more when Steve’s grip on his wrist tightened a bit.

“All the time, Eds,” Steve admitted a bit breathlessly, and that honestly took Eddie by surprise. Meeting Steve’s eyes again, he could see just how sincerely Steve had meant it.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighed, chuckling humorlessly. “Just been feeling a helluva lot like that, lately.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Steve asked and Eddie smiled, the expression real this time.

“Could use a hug, but you’re already doing plent—oof!”

It took several moments for Eddie to realize that they were standing, Steve’s arms wrapped around his waist and chin resting on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing Eddie around the middle firmly. Perfectly.

With a happy, teary sigh, Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders and held on desperately. Steve melted against his front with a sigh of his own before turning his face to rest his cheek on Eddie’s shoulder, his breath puffing across Eddie’s throat.

“Damn, Stevie, if I knew you’d just give me what I asked for, I would’ve asked for something better,” Eddie teased, dropping his own chin onto Steve’s shoulder.

“Anything you want, Eds,” Steve promised, and Eddie shivered. That was a dangerous promise.

“Careful, pretty boy, what if I asked for a kiss to make the hurt go away, huh?” Eddie asked, acutely aware of how close to his throat Steve’s lips were.

“I’d ask where you wanted that kiss, where it hurt the most,” Steve hummed, and Eddie felt a pang of want surge through him. It wasn’t even the desperate, horny want he was used to. It was yearning.

Eddie was feeling better, enough so that the vulnerability was getting difficult to keep rolling. “And if I said my dick…?” Eddie deflected, trailing off and laughing when Steve snorted and pinched his side.

“I’d say…” Steve started, pulling back enough to meet Eddie’s eyes and cup his cheek with one hand. Steve’s eyes met Eddie’s before looking down at his lips, not looking away as he said, “I’d take a raincheck on that, just for tonight. Then I’d ask if a kiss on the lips would be a good enough substitute.”

“I’d say yes—mmph!”

Eddie blinked, wide-eyed and actually giddy as Steve’s lips slotted perfectly against his own. The kiss was chaste, sweet, perfect. Even if Eddie started crying, especially as Steve brought his other hand up to determinedly wipe the tears on his cheeks away. And Steve, bless him, didn’t stop kissing him no matter how many more tears fell, or the way Eddie’s breathing turned into hiccupping sobs.

Steve just held him tight, kissed him sweetly, and brought him back to a world where he was allowed to be, wanted even, and Eddie knew the man wouldn’t let him forget it.

#steddie #steve/eddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #gerry writes

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kokomos · 2 months

Text

✴ new habits die hard ࣭ ๋ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ‏☽

— starring AU! LUKE CASTELLAN ! ♆

⤷ ⅱ. new habits die hard

MDNI 18+

warning : weed! suggestive themes (not explicit)

alternate universe : takes place in an au! where there are no gods, or demigods for that matter. luke lives with his mother, alone, and takes care of her full-time when he's not off doing odd jobs for the locals.

description : after moving several states away from his home in suburban connecticut, luke found himself in unfamiliar territory and in need of a new plug. lucky for him, you're the town's resident drug dealer.

tags : fem! reader, dealer! reader, loser! luke, au! luke; dom! reader if you squint, subby! luke; luke and reader are both heavy stoners, reader is high during the exchange.

how luke got this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was beyond him. a girl dealer. after a year or so of nothing but egotistical and overly competitive men—luke needed this, needed you.

there he stood: in the confines of some shabby little trailer, on the outskirts of town, that you called home. his cheeks were flushed, tints of red betraying him as he tried his best to remain stoic in your presence. despite the fact that you were obviously high, luke still couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.

not that you noticed, or at least you didn't at first; you were too busy leisurely packaging his eighth. your eyes were trained on the scale as you weighed the strain of his choice out, shifting focus to neatly tuck the nugs away into a tiny, pink baggie. a heart embellished the shimmering plastic, a signature that this was from your supply. luke wondered for a moment if there was anyone in town who actually didn't prefer using you—for dealing purposes, of course.

your arm extends out towards your new (favorite) customer. “here you go,” you chirp jovially with a smile. in your hand holds the eighth, sealed and stuffed to the brim.

maybe you gave him more than he paid for, just a bit. but what further justification did you need other than the fact that he was cute, and kinda shy—you liked that in a guy.

he freezes for a moment before reaching out to procure the package, meeting your gaze momentarily before dropping his attention to your hand. a smirk graces your face, delighted, or more accurately amused, by the realization dawning on you.

once the product's out of your possession, he hastily stuffs the eighth away in the pocket of his sweatpants. luke tilts his head up to thank you, but seems to freeze yet again when he finds your eyes scanning his form.

“if you were my boyfriend,” you start abruptly and he watches your eyes slowly meet his, “i wouldn't let you walk around like that.”

his cheeks heat up exponentially, the color darkens against his skin, and he has to stop himself from crumbling entirely when he observes that teasing look you've got plastered across your face. shameless and cruel, by his regard. still, he couldn't deny that he was enjoying every second of it.

he did look pretty slutty, to be frank. a black, tight-fit shirt hugging his abs and those gray sweatpants—they looked amazing on him, but you'd argue they would look even better on the grotty floor of the trailer's one bedroom. your master suite.

following your titillating remark, he swallowed his next breath and let his eyes travel down to survey the clothes he so carelessly threw on hours before. “like… what?” he asked, seeming so nervous that it wouldn't be too far-fetched for someone to misidentify him as utterly terrified.

you chuckle lightly prior to indulging in his curiosity, “like you wanna fuck.”

his eyes instantly snap to yours and his cheeks flare an even deeper maroon. “what?” he nearly chokes on the word. “that's—not,” he stutters, “i was working out before and—”

you cut his pitiful excuse for a defense short, “you've got pretty eyes.” sincerity bleeds through the drug-fueled haze, “it's a shame you don't let me see ‘em too much.”

and without another word, or glance in his direction, you reach for the pre-roll on the table to your left and spark up. he watches intently as you take the first pull, how your plump and glossy lips wrap so delicately around the end of the joint. when your eyes flicker to him, as you exhale some of the smoke, he looks away.

“you gonna pay me or...?” you trail off, keeping a flirtatious tune in your voice. he fumbles around for what he owes in his other pocket, and hands the cash over with a ‘thank you’ and a rather bashful smile.

he leaves the encounter with an eighth in his pocket, your mellifluous voice engraved in his memory, and the feeling that this would only be the start of a new (bad) habit.

ᡣ𐭩 with love , honey

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dealer!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan headcanons #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo imagine #pjo headcanons #loser!luke #dealer!reader #au!luke

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steddiealltheway · 8 months

Text

I just BARELY made the deadline in my time zone, but I did it! This is for Lex's Summer Challenge, Dialogue prompt #25 :) Thank you @thefreakandthehair for organizing this!! <3

It's New Year's Eve, and Steve is not excited.

The kids have all mostly agreed to stay together, setting off fireworks at the Wheeler's house. Robin has a band thing, meaning she will try to cozy up with Vickie but chicken out before the New Year's kiss. And Steve... he plans on checking in on Max who hasn't confirmed if she is going to Mike's.

Things have been rough for her since Billy passed only a few months ago. She hates the trailer she had to move to, and as far as Steve can tell, her mom isn't around much. And if she is, she isn't sober.

The worst thing is that Max doesn't open up to anyone, but there isn't much Steve can do about that. What he can do is drive to her place and bring her dinner.

He goes about making her way too much spaghetti and makes the drive over. The sun is starting to go down, but he just hopes he can make it home in time to put on headphones and pass out before people start celebrating the new year.

He just doesn't want to make it anyone else's problem that he no longer likes the look or sound of fireworks – flashes triggering migraines and memories of Russian torture – so he's put a plan in place. Luckily, everyone should be too busy with New Year's celebrations to pay him any attention.

He pulls up to Max's trailer and parks outside, walking up to the door and knocking quickly. He waits a few seconds, listening for the sound of footsteps coming to the door, but they don't come. He pulls his jacket a little tighter around himself, shifts the tub of spaghetti from his left side to the right, and knocks again.

After waiting a few minutes, Steve turns and notices the sun is now on the horizon.

He glances around the trailer park, cursing himself for not bringing his walkie. His eyes land on a van at the trailer across the way that looks somewhat familiar. He notes that there are no negative thoughts that accompany looking at it, but rather, he feels a bit indifferent to it.

He starts walking that way, hoping he knows the owner, and further hoping that they're nice enough to let him use their phone. He walks up the steps and knocks before stepping down.

Luckily, this time he hears the sound of footsteps from inside and a bit of muffled cursing before the door swings open.

Oh. That's how he knows the van.

Eddie Munson looks down at him, totally bewildered, and shifts uncomfortably, eyes flickering toward the spaghetti while asking, "What are you doing here?" Before he can answer, Munson gets a look of realization and answers himself, "Right, my great supply."

"No," Steve says quickly. "I just need to use your phone."

Munson quickly stiffens again. "Why?"

Steve sighs and shifts the tub again which has started to feel heavier with every passing moment. "My friend lives over there," he says, throwing his thumb over his shoulder, "And I need to check if she's okay."

"No way," Munson says, hands coming up before he crosses his arms, "No way I'm letting you use my phone to call some hookup."

"It's not a hookup. She's in middle school."

"What?" Eddie asks, looking even more horrified.

"Not like that!" Steve says and runs his free hand through his hair. "She's friends with a group of kids that I babysit."

"And why do you want to call her?"

Christ. "Because I'm worried about her, okay? She's not someone who asks for help, and she's not answering the door. I just need to know if she's safe at her friend's house."

Eddie stares at him for a few more seconds then asks, "What’s the spaghetti for?"

"Her."

He's fixed with the same suspicious stare until Eddie finally nods his head and opens the door for Steve to come inside. Eddie gestures to where the phone is and leans back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms and watching his every move.

Steve tries to shrug it off as he dials the Wheelers and waits for one of them to answer.

"Hello?"

Steve smiles and politely replies, "Hi, Mrs. Wheeler, it's Steve."

"Oh, Nancy is currently-"

"No, no," Steve cuts her off, seeing the way that Eddie is starting to tense up. "I wasn't calling about Nancy. I was just wondering if Max was there with the other kids. I stopped by to check on her, but she didn't answer the door."

Steve can feel his heart thud in his chest as he waits for the reply. "That's very kind of you. But she's with the boys right now. Did you want me to pass a message to her?"

"No," Steve says in relief. "No, I just wanted to make sure she was okay. Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Steve," she replies and hangs up.

Steve puts the phone back and turns to Eddie. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."

Eddie tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. "Why do you care about her so much?"

Steve sighs and gestures toward the counter with the container of spaghetti in hand. "Can I?" Eddie nods in response, so Steve sets it down. He runs a hand through his hair and asks, "Do you remember Billy Hargrove?"

Eddie scoffs, "Like I could forget the asshole."

Steve nods. "Well, Max was his step-sister."

"Oh," Eddie says, shifting uncomfortably.

Steve shrugs. "They didn't have the greatest relationship, but she's been really closed off since...” he trails off uncomfortably, trying not to remember the moment he died.

Eddie nods his head. “Right.”

Steve nods back and gestures toward the spaghetti, changing the subject. “You can have that by the way as a thank you for letting me use your phone. I really appreciate it. And hey, Happy New Year.”

Eddie’s jaw drops slightly as if he wants to say something but none of the words come out. So, Steve walks to the front door and opens it. He doesn’t even move a step down the stairs before a big firework lights up the sky as the loud noise rings out.

Steve freezes. He feels his breathing getting shaky and shallow as he remembers the fireworks exploding on that spider looking thing’s back.

He closes his eyes tight, trying to fend off the images, but the darkness only reminds him of the black that slowly devoured his vision when the Russians knocked him out.

“Hey, hey,” a soft voice says, “I’ve got you.”

Steve notices the way he’s somehow on the ground with his back pressed against something warm and that same heat wraps around his torso. He blinks back into reality a bit as warm hands run up and down his arms slowly. “You okay?”

Steve sinks back into Eddie’s arms and closes his eyes. "Fireworks aren't exactly... my favorite thing."

Eddie breathes out sharply through his nose. “Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.”

Steve just nods, allowing himself to be comforted for a few seconds before he tenses up and begins to stand up. “Sorry,” he apologies as he makes his way back to the front door. “Don’t know what got into me.”

He puts his hand on the door handle, moving his body to block Eddie’s view from his shaking hand.

“Hey,” Eddie says close behind him, “Just stay until the fireworks stop. I don’t want you driving into my trailer on the way out or something.”

Steve turns and asks, “Are you sure?”

Eddie nods and gestures to the container. “Plus, there’s no way I can eat this whole thing on my own.”

Steve is about to say that he’ll be fine when another firework goes off outside, startling him again. “Okay,” he agrees, wondering how the hell this is going to end up. Steve “The Hair” Harrington and Eddie “The Freak” Munson spending New Years together.

Eddie hands Steve the container and grabs two bowls and forks before walking off. Steve follows behind him to what he assumes to be Eddie’s room, slightly confused about the change in scenery.

“Sorry it’s a mess. I wasn’t expecting visitors,” Eddie says awkwardly shoving things around.

Steve just smiles as he looks at the room. “I like it. It feels comfortable,” he confesses. And it does. With the way his parents force him to keep a spotless room that never feels lived in, it’s nice to be in a bedroom that really reflects someone.

Eddie considers him for a moment and just nods as he takes the container and sets it on his dresser alongside the bowls before pointing at his stack of tapes. “I’m going to guess our music taste isn’t really similar, but feel free to dig through for something you might like that’ll drown out the fireworks.”

Steve’s heart skips a beat at the thoughtfulness before he makes his way to the tapes, digging through several unfamiliar names that he kind of wants to ask about, but instead he can’t help but ask, “So, what are you doing alone on New Years?”

Eddie scoops himself a generous amount of pasta as he answers, “Gareth is at a school thing, Jeff is with his family in New York, and Grant’s parents kind of don’t like me.”

“Why’s that?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a look. “I’m not exactly ‘meet the parents’ material, and it doesn’t help that I used to hold band practice in his garage and would play louder whenever they told us to quiet down.”

Steve smiles. “I would love for you to do that to my parents. God, they would be so pissed.” He grabs another tape and instantly smiles and holds it up to Eddie. “I love Queen.” He immediately puts it into the cassette player and turns the volume up enough to block out additional noise while still being able to hear Eddie talk.

He turns and finds Eddie handing him a bowl and fork with a soft smile on his face, “You know, you’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods and sits cross legged on his mattress. “Honestly, I thought you’d be an asshole. You know. King Steve and all that shit.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair as he sits next to him. “I don’t think I’m ever going to live that down.”

“You will if you get out of Hawkins,” Eddie says, shoveling a forkful of spaghetti in his mouth.

Steve twirls his pasta and stares at it. “I don’t know if I’ll ever leave here,” he confesses.

“Why not?”

“I’m not smart enough to make a living somewhere else. Plus, if I move, my parents likely won’t support me – my dad likes keeping me under his thumb. And the kids need me to drive them around.” And they need him in case Hawkins gets another dose of Hell, but he can’t tell Eddie that. “Plus, I don’t think there’s anywhere that would accept me, a former jock and asshole whose only friends are children and Robin. And they’re all so smart that they’ll eventually realize they’re dumb for keeping me around.” He stabs at his spaghetti before putting the bowl down and resting his head in his hands. “I don’t know, man.”

There’s a pause, and Steve hears a dull thud from a firework outside the trailer even over the music that startles him a bit. It’s so damn annoying that something small like this can reduce him to this.

“Run away with me.”

Steve head slowly comes up. “What?”

Eddie wipes his mouth and sets his bowl on his side table. “Run away with me,” he repeats. “After I graduate, I’m going to run like hell out of here. Come with me to find a place that accepts a former jock and a...” he trails off and looks away nervously. “Uh, a freak,” he awkwardly fills in.

The bowl in Steve’s hand suddenly feels like it’s in the way, so he sets it on the floor before turning to Eddie and leaning closer to him, hands itching to reach out. “Come on, you can tell me what you were really going to say.”

Eddie searches his eyes before laying back on his bed dramatically, trailing his hands over his face. “You know what I was going to say. You’ve heard the rumors. Everyone has.”

Steve has heard several rumors about Eddie, including one about how he worships the devil and does satanic rituals on top of his trailer in the middle of the night. But he has a feeling he knows which rumor he’s talking about. “Yeah, but rumors are rumors for a reason. You never know which ones are true.”

Eddie sighs and looks up at Steve. He looks like he’s on the verge of telling him before he asks, “So, why aren’t you with your friends tonight? The kids or Robin.”

He looks down at Eddie for a few moments, wondering if he’ll drop the question, but he holds his ground. Steve shrugs. “Robin is at the thing with all the band kids, chickening out with her crush, and the kids don’t want their babysitter around. Plus, they want to launch fireworks or play Dungeons and Dragons or something.”

Eddie perks up and sits up on his elbows. “Dungeons and Dragons? The kids you babysit play that?”

“Yeah. And don’t make fun of them for it. They talk about it all the time, and I think it sounds cool,” Steve says, always quick to defend Dustin even if he’s into weird nerdy shit.

Eddie sits up entirely and looks at Steve excitedly. “You think Dungeons and Dragons is cool?” he asks in disbelief.

Steve shrugs in response. “It’s not really my thing, but yeah.”

“Dude, I’m the leader of Hellfire. You know, the Dungeons and Dragons club at school? What are the kids' names?”

“Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.”

Eddie bounces up and down excitedly. “Holy shit, I thought Dustin was kidding when he said he was friends with you.”

It suddenly clicks, Dustin had mentioned Eddie’s name before, but Steve had never really thought about it as Eddie Munson of all people. “Shit, Dustin talks about you all the time, I just never connected the dots.”

“He doesn’t shut up about you. The kid adores you. He’d kill me if I took you away from here.”

“And he’d kill you if you ever left.”

Eddie smiles and nudges Steve. “Looks like we’re both stuck here.”

Steve smiles back at him, eyes tracing over Eddie’s face. He’s not sure why he’s never really noticed him before. He guesses he’s always been so stuck in his own shit that Eddie just kind of passed him by somehow. But he’s finally noticing his dimples, and the way his eyes are so deeply brown and easy to get lost in, and his lips looks so full and-

Eddie lightly shoves him back, a pink blush appearing on his cheeks, “Eat your spaghetti before it gets cold.”

Steve grabs his bowl and does as he’s told, watching as Eddie gets up to turn up the music a little louder. When he sits back on the bed, the two eat in comfortable silence, letting the music fill the space. Steve’s not sure if he’s ever been able to warm up to someone so quickly, but it makes sense that he’d be able to bond with someone who loves Dustin.

The song ends and goes into the next. Steve finishes his last bite of spaghetti and laughs as “Somebody to Love” starts playing. He puts his bowl down and lays back on the bed, letting the song wash over him. He sings the lyrics under his breath until he hears Eddie doing the same thing and turns to look up at him. They lock eyes just in time to sing, “Can anybody find me somebody to love?”

Eddie laughs and lays next to him joining him through the rest of the song. Steve feels ridiculous, but Eddie makes a show of playing air guitar, yelling, “I know how to play this!” Steve just laughs and watches him, feeling his heart beat a little faster in a way it hasn’t for somebody else in a while.

He sings the rest of the song, mainly focusing on Eddie and the way he so easily gives into the music, unafraid of what Steve might think. As it comes to an end, Steve feels something shift inside him, but Eddie is quick to laugh, “Steve Harrington how can you be struggling to find somebody to love?”

Steve smiles sadly. “I think I’ve been looking in the wrong place all along, but I’ve been starting to think that maybe I’m unlovable.”

Eddie scoffs and moves closer to him. “If you think you’re unlovable then there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

Steve has to move closer to hear him over the music and talk without shouting. “Does that include you?”

“What do you think?” Eddie asks, tilting his head with a curious smile.

“I think,” Steve starts, unsure of how he’s going to finish the sentence, “If there’s no hope for you either, then maybe...”

“Maybe?” Eddie prompts.

Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips. “Maybe...” He looks up at Eddie’s eyes, seeing the confusion, slight fear, and hope. “Maybe you should finish what you were going to say earlier.”

“Steve...” Eddie says, “You can’t be asking me...”

“Then, I’ll ask you. Is it midnight yet?”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Not even close.”

“What if I lie and say that it is so I can ask you for a New Years kiss?” Steve asks boldly.

Eddie’s breath hitches. “Then, I’d say yes and start counting down from ten.”

“Nine,” Steve says immediately.

“Eight,” Eddie replies, shifting onto his knees.

“Seven.” Steve scoots closer, leaning in to brush their noses together.

“Six,” Eddie exhales.

“Five.” Steve’s hands come up to hold onto the back of Eddie’s head.

“Four.” Eddie’s hands press into Steve’s back to bring him closer.

“Three.” Steve tilts his head, already brushing his lips against Eddie’s, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Two,” Eddie whispers, hands gripping on tighter, left hand tracing up between his shoulders to slot their torsos together.

“One,” Steve says, barely finishing the word as he presses his lips against Eddie’s, finally ending the longest countdown of his life.

He deepens the kiss immediately, tasting spaghetti and a hint of something that is purely Eddie which he finds entirely intoxicating.

The music fades from one song into the next, and Steve’s pretty sure a firework goes off in the silence, but he’s too distracted by Eddie to really respond to it. He feels Eddie’s arms tighten around him, slowly guiding him down to lay back on the bed.

Eddie breaks the kiss to look down at Steve. “This okay?” he asks.

Steve nods and says, “Happy New Year.”

Eddie smiles and shakes his head in disbelief. “Happy fucking New Year.”

He finally understands why people cheesily talk about fireworks going off during a kiss. And maybe even with everything, fireworks aren’t too bad if this is what he can associate them with.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #lexssummerfanworkschallenge

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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

Text

I love you, always.

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Fooled round and fell in love blurb

series masterlist

summary: You and Eddie get married on Valentine’s Day, amongst your friends and family. Someone calls to congratulate you, but eddie has another idea in mind.

⚠️warnings: SMUT 18+MDNI, time jump from the original series, mentions of sex, unprotected p in v, getting fucked while on the phone, slight breeding kink, slight daddy kink, cream pie, jealous Eddie, fluff fluff fluff, marriage stuff, Eddie being a devious little shit.

a/n: idea from @a-taurus , thank you babe!

Wanted to update this series and give my bbs their happily ever after, I’m gonna miss them. 🥹

Eddie photo edit: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

You’re about to marry your best friend. You couldn’t believe how far you and Eddie had come. From that incident with Randy, to him finally asking you to be his girl. All of that seemed so long ago, but also, like it was just yesterday. You and Eddie just made three years, he’d purposed on your anniversary and you knew you wanted a Valentine’s Day wedding. you’ve imagined yourself marrying the very man, you are about to on that day. Since, you started writing I heart Eddie Munson, in your notebooks in high school. You just can’t fathom that you are really getting your happily ever after, with the man who swore he’d rather die than get married, but that was when you were kids. He’s done nothing but make you feel loved and adored since.

The weddings small, filled with your closest friends and loved ones. You and Eddie decided on a beautiful garden venue just outside of Indianapolis. You got lucky, the weather was nice and sunny, even in mid February.

You wore a beautiful; white silk dress, that went down to your ankles, while Eddie wore a black on black tux, still decorated with his usual accessories. Everything was perfect. Wayne walked you down the aisle while Eddie sobbed, along with your mom and Robin; she was one of your bridesmaids, of course. Steve on the other side as one of Eddie’s groomsmen, was tearing up a little too.

You were having your very own fairytale moment, in a beautiful garden, marrying the man of your dreams.

Once the wedding was over, you all danced and partied until Eddie and his groomsmen were plastered. After, you both took a cab back to your hotel, you had a flight in the morning to key west, Florida for your honeymoon.

You were grateful to the gods, that you were both up and packed on time. Your honeymoon was everything and more. You and Eddie had amazing sex every night, and even better conversations and laughs. You walked on the beach, got messages and even got him to get a mani and pedi with you. Had amazing dinners at fancy restaurants and enjoyed the night life at some of the clubs around your hotel.

After a week of being in paradise, you were back in Hawkins, moving into your new trailer you and Eddie saved up for. It was a spacious two bedroom, double wide. Nothing fancy, It wasn’t your forever home though. You had plans of renovating, staying in it for a couple years and then selling it, to buy your forever home. You and Eddie had lots of late night talks about it, maybe even, have a kid or two.

Once finally moved in, it felt like old times— movie nights and sleepovers, like you use to have back in high school. But, this time you both were unable to keep your hands to yourselves, being able to kiss on him and touch him ways you wanted to at that time, made you feel like a giddy child. The butterflies never stopped, they probably never would. You got them just by being looked at by him. The way he’d whisper in your ear about something mundane like a part in said movie you were watching, the way he’d rub your thigh, gradually getting closer to your throbbing center, the way he’d play with your hair, after he’d jokingly do the little yawn and stretch move, still making you giggle no matter how many times he’s overused it, but that was the point. He’d do anything to make you giggle, like that.

After months of being married and officially moved in together. You were sitting on your queen sized bed, covered in silky maroon sheets while painting your nails a baby pink. Eddie walks into the room and sits behind you, while rubbing your shoulders and kissing the exposed skin underneath your tank top.

“Ed’s, stay still! I’m painting my nails!” You playfully screech

“Im sorry baby, here let me blow them for you,” he says while taking your left hand in his, and bringing it up to his mouth to softly blow, as he continued to dry your nails, his thumb rubs over your ring finger, playing with the wedding ring he had your mom and Robin help him pick out. He knew exactly what you would like, but he wanted the two people that knew you as well as he did, there. Once he was done with your left hand, he plants a sweet kiss on your knuckles.

The way he continued to make you swoon, with just the little things he did was absolutely hypnotic. He moved on to your right hand and began his ministrations, once he finished up and gave your right hand a kiss to match the left, the phone rang.

“I’ll get it.” Eddie whispers into your ear, sending a cool chill down your spine, and causing your skin to goosebump.

You can hear him answer the phone in the kitchen and begin walking back into your shared bedroom. You received the cordless home phone as a wedding gift from the Harringtons, you and Eddie were rather excited to use that on nights he was away on his mini Midwest tours with corroded coffin.

“Hey um, baby, it’s for you.” He says with his hand on the speaker, as he passes it to you.

Eddie hovered over you with a clenched jaw, and his hands balled up by his sides.

“Hello?” You say hesitantly, as you read Eddie’s face.

“Y/n?” The familiar voice on the other side, says.

You lift the phone from your ear and looked at it in confusion.

“Um, yes. Who is this?” You asked, with furrowed eyebrows.

“It’s Randy.” Your breath hitched, as he said his name.

“Oh, um hi?” You’re even more confused now.

Eddie continues watching you, as he rolls his eyes, hearing Randy’s faint voice.

Then Eddies face turns devilish, as if he’s gotten an idea. That’s never a good thing. That face got you both into trouble, more often than not.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I know this is weird. Me calling you and all,” yeah, tell me about it— you think to yourself.

As Randy continues talking, Eddie’s hand begins rubbing up your thigh, making a surprised whimper release from your parted lips.

“Shh,” He says as his finger goes up to his lip. When he puts it down, the devilish smile reappears.

“So, I was just calling because I heard about the wedding, uh, you and Eddie’s. Congratulations.” Randy says, as Eddie’s hand slips into your black sleep shorts, making another gasp leave you.

“You okay?” Randy asks.

“Mmhm, yeah I’m fine.” You answer back, as you glare at Eddie. Making him huff out a laugh, that he tries to conceal with his hand.

“So, umm. Randy. How did you get this number?” You’re still glaring at Eddie, as he stands up and begins unbuckling his belt. You can’t help but to smile and roll your eyes at your husbands, dirty idea.

“Oh uh, Well, I ran into Dennis at the grocery store, the other day.”

“Dennis? I don’t know a Dennis.” You giggle

“Kid with the curly hair? Um, he’s friends with Eddie.” You know exactly who he’s talking about now, which makes you laugh even harder, well that and Eddie pulling your hips to the edge of the bed, and discarding your shorts and panties.

“Oh, you mean Dustin?” Eddie can’t help but laugh to himself at that, as he takes his cock in his hand and slaps it against your wet center.

“Dustin! Yeah, yeah him! I kind of had to beg.” He began laughing at himself now.

“I’m surprised he gave it you.” You’re trying your hardest to keep your voice normal and steady as Eddie’s cock begins to breech your entrance.

“Well, I promised him it wasn’t in an attempt to take you from Eddie. Just heard the news from Rick about you getting married, and I wanted to just say congratulations…” he continues

“And that I’m sorry,” you start to feel kind of bad, at the fact that Eddie is trying to fuck you, while on the phone with someone who’s making an attempt to apologize. But, Eddie has a way to himself, something about him always makes you want to please him, go along with what he says. You suppose it’s due to love or your never ending infatuation with your husband.

“Sorry? Um s-sorry for what?” You can’t even remember what you were talking about, while Eddie is now completely bottomed out inside you.

“For sending Becky to Eddie’s place, for showing up to your house waisted, trying to fight Eddie. I don’t know, everything. I didn’t want it to end that way, ya know?” He says as Eddie’s slowing pulling out and sinking back into you.

You pull the phone away from your ear. Copying Eddie’s earlier actions of covering the speaker with your hand, as you begin talking to Eddie, while he fucks you.

“Baby, if you go any harder I’m not gonna be able to talk, just please let me get off the phone.” That makes him speed up a little, as a cocky smirk takes over his face.

“Go ahead and talk, sweet thing.”

You roll your eyes as you put the phone back up to your ear.

“Hello?” You hear, forgetting about the guy on the other end. Eddie snaps his hips a little harder, now discarding his slayer band tee and tossing it on to the bed, beside you.

“Y-yeah, I’m here. Sorry.” You stutter out, “well, thank you for that, I-I oh! Appreciate it.” Fuck, you almost got through that whole sentence without giving yourself away. But if Randy caught onto what was going down, he didn’t let it be know, as he continued to talk.

“So, how are you?” He asked.

You put your hand over your mouth, as your eyes start rolling back.

“He asked you a question, baby. Answer him.” Eddie whispers into your free ear, with the same cocky smirk.

God, a part of you wanted to punch him, but another part of you wanted to hang up on Randy and beg Eddie to keep fucking you just like that.

“I’m, I’m good, I’m really really good.” You say, with the last “good” coming out as a moan. Eddie laughs into your neck as he continues fucking you, hard and deep.

“How, um. How are you?” It’s only right, to be polite and ask someone back. Even though you wanted nothing more than to end the call, as quick as possible.

“I’m good, ya know. As good as I can be—” He laughs, but something about it makes you feel sorry for him. You’re an empath after all.

“I’m uh, happy for you both. You might think I’m bullshitting, but I’m glad Eddie was able to stop being a slut and settle down with you. I mean, it makes sense he did it for you. I cant think of another girl more deserving of that.” He rambles

You didn’t really know how to take that, whatever it was. I mean, it sounded like it was coming from a good place but also definitely like he was still bitter about it.

“Well, thank you Randy. I appreciate this phone call.” You said, as Eddie halted his movements after hearing what Randy said. He wanted to snatch the phone from you and tell him to fuck off! But he didn’t.

“Yeah, just thought I owed that to you. Um, you take care, okay?” He says, voice sounding a little shaky.

“Yeah, you too.” You say back, Eddie’s movements starting up again, as he realizes you’re about to end the call.

You hang up, placing the phone on the bed, beside you.

“Eddie! God, that was so embarrassing. I could barely focus on anything he was saying,” you say as you shove his chest, playfully.

“That was the point, my love,” he chuckles while sucking at the sweet spot on your neck.

“Mmm, fuck me harder now, please?” You say as you grab a handful of his hair gently, bringing his lips to yours.

“Yeah? Feel good baby?” He asks, breaking the deep kiss.

“Feels so fucking good, daddy.” You whine

“Such a dirty fucking mouth. Mmm, should I cum in that dirty little mouth? Huh?” He grabs your cheeks and squeezes them, until your mouth is wide open.

“Or do you want my cum, in this tight. fucking. pussy?” He says between hard thrusts.

“Maybe get you pregnant? You want that sweet girl? Wanna have my babies? Fuck, you’d look so sexy, with daddy’s baby inside you, all big and plump.”

“Mmm, fuck I-I want you to cum inside me, please?” You’re so close to cumming, your pussy is squeezing Eddie’s cock like a vice.

“Oh my god!” He shouts as he picks up your legs by the backs of your knees and spreads you out even wider, hitting your spot relentlessly.

“Eddie, I’m gonna cum. Fuck! Please, don’t stop!” The way your eyes won’t stop rolling in the back of your head, is definitely making you look possessed, but it feels way too good to care.

“Fuck yes, cum for me baby. Cum on daddy’s cock.” He’s so close, but he’s trying to wait for you.

“You’re not on the pill right now. Are you sure you want this, princess?” He asks, as he continues his hard thrusts.

“Yes, yes I want it so bad, please?” You’re so close to the edge, but Eddie brings his thumb between your bodies and begins rubbing at your clit, slow but heavy circles. That takes you over the edge, as you moan out while your toes curl.

Every orgasm Eddie has given you seemed to always be better than the last. It was his favorite thing to do, after all.

“I’m cumming baby. Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up!” He says as he pumps warm ropes of cum, deep inside you.

After you both catch you breath, you lay there wrapped in each others embrace. While, Eddie pushes your hair away from your face, giving you kisses all over your cheeks, lips and forehead.

You giggle, as you run your nails down his back, gently rubbing up and down.

“I love you so much, Ed’s.” You whisper to him.

“I love you, always.” He whispers back.

Thank you for reading ❣️

Comments and reblogs are appreciated

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction

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ssareids-coffee · 5 months

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hi ! i’m obsessed with the idea of best friend!eddie teaching virgin!reader how to give head😭😭 like maybe they’re watching a movie and a sex scene comes on and her having no experience she’s like “i wonder how it feels…does it feel good?” like genuine curiosity and omg he would be so vocal, soft, and instructional i can’t do this-

sorry this took so long!! but i hope you like it🫶🏻

sat on the sofa in his trailer, passing a joint between the two of you as a horror movie plays in the background. eddie hands you the joint, letting the smoke fill the air between you both. you’ve been best friends with eddie for almost your whole lives, so being curled up on his sofa under a blanket while your wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties as he’s wearing his own plaid pyjama bottoms was nothing new.

‘what do you think of the move so far sweetheart?’ eddie asks casually, his arm wrapped around your waist as your head rests on his chest.

‘i really like it’ you say with a smile, finishing the joint and stubbing it out on the ashtray he keeps on the coffee table ‘i like the movie doesn’t take itself too seriously, makes it much more enjoyable’

eddie hums in agreement, his nose pressed to your head as you cuddle, taking in the scent of your shampoo. he knows it’s wrong to be harbouring these kind of feelings about his best friend, but there’s just something about you that makes him feel weak at the knees. he’s enjoying the moment of being close to you, when he starts to hear faint moans coming from the tv. he looks up, the main character of the movie having sex with her longtime boyfriend, he laughs.

‘literally the number one rule in a horror movie, if you fuck, you die’ he says with a laugh, looking down at you and watching your reaction to the scene unfolding. just as the main character climaxes, you turn to him.

‘does that feel, good?’ you ask, buzzed enough from the weed that your not entirely realising that your telling your best friend you have never had an orgasm. eddie feels his cheeks flush slightly and his cock stir involuntarily at the thoughts your question filled his mind with.

‘does what feel good? sex?’ he asks, slightly confused.

‘no, not sex, having an orgasm’ you say, looking back at the tv screen. eddies eyes widen at the realisation.

‘you’ve never had an orgasm?’ he asks, shocked ‘not even by yourself’

‘no, i mean i’ve tried but i can’t ever get myself to finish’ you say softly, feeling slightly embarrassed ‘does it feel good though?’ eddies mind is racing, partly because of the thoughts of you trying to touch yourself and not being able to cum.

‘uh- yeah it does feel good, like really good’ he says, clearing his throat so his voice does not make him sound as horny as he is.

‘have you ever made a girl cum before?’ you ask him, chewing on your bottom lip as you look up at him through long lashes.

‘yeah- a few times’

‘can you show me how you do it?’ you ask, the words falling out your mouth before you can stop them, his eyes widening and breathing becoming more laboured at your proposition ‘oh! not like that, like can you show me how you do it, like acting it out or something?’ you say shyly. eddie is sure he is dreaming, there is no way his beautiful best friend is asking him to explain him to show her how to cum, so she can then go home and touch herself using what he taught her. no- he shouldn’t be getting off on this, your his friend and friends ask each other for help, but he can’t deny that your innocence isn’t making him want to completely ruin you.

‘yeah, sure i can’ eddie replies, shifting on the sofa to turn so he’s facing you, holding one of his palms up ‘so, you know where your pussy is, but your clit is up higher, it’s that little bud right at the top, about here’ he says, using his other hand to point to the top of his outstretched palm.

‘the mistake a lot of people make is applying way too much pressure, or not going slowly enough’ he continues.

‘how do you find the right speed and pressure though?’ you ask curiously ‘i always find that i either can’t feel anything or i feel so much it hurts’

‘well the pussy and clit aren’t the only places a person can feel pleasure, working yourself up first can help with that kind of thing’ he says, clearing his throat as he tries not to picture you with your hand down your panties when your home alone.

‘working myself up how?’

‘uh- teasing yourself, playing with your nipples, teasing yourself over your panties’ eddie replies, looking at you with flushed cheeks and dilated pupils ‘taking things slowly with yourself until your really desperate, can feel how much you need it, it’ll help’

‘okay, that makes sense’

‘you’ll want to start on the outside, working on your clit, but when you get wet enough you can try putting a finger inside yourself. it’ll be tight, but you want to curl your finger till you find a spongy spot, and you want to hit that again and again, that’s your gspot’

‘can you make someone cum just using their gspot?’ you ask, your face mirroring his own desire.

‘yeah, you can, but most women need some kind of clitoral stimulation to cum too, so using both hands to work different areas would most likely help’ he says, noticing that your squeezing your thighs together, cheeks slightly flushed- were you, turned on by this?

‘i have such short fingers though’ you say, placing your palm against his to show the clear size difference ‘i don’t know if mine could reach that far inside’ you say with a small pout. eddie clears his throat, trying to think about anything other than how close you both were and the image of you fingering yourself that was now playing on repeat in his head.

‘right- uh, i guess that could be a problem’ he says, eyes locked onto yours, face subconsciously moving closer to yours.

‘eddie’ you say softly, fingers now intertwined with his ‘can you show me’ you ask, voice barley above a whisper.

‘are you asking what i think your asking?’ he says breathlessly, nose bumping against yours as you are drawn to each other.

‘yes, can you show me how to make myself cum’ you whisper, and that’s all the confirmation that eddie needed before his lips were on yours. years of pent up feelings are pouring out of him as he kisses you, he desperately tried to remember everything about how you feel against him incase this never happens again. he reluctantly pulls away, turning you round so your back is flush against his chest as he sits on the sofa.

‘can i take these off sweetheart?’ he asks, voice thick with desire as he tugs at your borrowed shirt.

‘please’ you whisper, he pulls the fabric off your body, leaving you in just a pair of panties. he feels like he could cum in his pants just from looking at you, the way your back is pressed to him, your tits on full display for him as he takes in your almost naked form.

‘we’re gonna start with working you up, okay angel?’ he says sweetly, lips finding their way to your neck as his hands run up and down your stomach, occasionally grabbing your hips and giving them a squeeze. the feel of his lips on your neck and his hands finally on you after all this time, you let out a breathy moan which makes eddies already hard cock impossibly harder. he slowly reaches up and starts gently touching your boobs, tracing your nipples with his thumb as his mouth finds its way to your earlobe, gently biting it. your back is arching, head falling back against his shoulder as his name falls from your lips like a prayer. your squirming now, bucking your hips up as he tugs on one of your nipples as you let out an almost pornographic moan.

‘eddie, please’ you moan desperately, breathing now laboured as he touches you everywhere but the place you need him most. he takes your panties off, slipping them down your legs as he lets out a groan at the sight of you now naked against him.

‘okay sweetheart, give me your hand’ he says, voice heavy with lust as you place the back of your hand against the palm of his ‘good girl, now your gonna touch yourself, and i’m gonna help guide you with my hand like this okay?’

‘please’ you whisper, your hand moving down your stomach and towards your aching pussy. your fingers catch on your clit, making you gasp at the sensation, his hand still firmly placed against yours, guiding each movement. he starts with small, soft circles on your clit, your already whining and moaning at the feeling- you didn’t know it could feel this good. he can hear just how wet you are, each circle of your clit with your finger making a soft squelching noise from just how turned on you were, making his cock strain even more against his pyjama pants- but this isn’t about him, it’s about you. he slowly starts to increase the pace of his hand against yours, speeding up the movements of your fingers against your clit.

‘eddie, feels so good, didn’t know it could feel so good’ you pant, head thrown back on his shoulder as your eyes squeeze shut, cheeks flushed from arousal.

‘i know baby, your doing so well’ he says softly, using his free hand to gently stroke your hair before moving his fingers down to your neglected nipples.

‘fuck- something feels, different’ you say through a moan, hips now grinding against your own (and also his) hand as your breath comes out in short gasps.

‘it’s okay sweetheart, you gonna cum? your doing so well, you can cum’ he says, coxing your orgasm out of you with each brush of your nipple and circle of your clit. the coil in your stomach burst, crying out as you grind your pussy desperately against your fingers, crying out his name as slick gushes from you. eddie can’t stop himself now, he’s all but humping your back, desperate for any kind of release now your cumming. you cum down from your orgasm, head fuzzy from the pleasure. he softly removes his hand from yours, moving it to your jaw to lift your chin upwards so your looking at him.

‘you did so good angel, so fucking good’ he says breathlessly, kissing you again.

‘eddie’ you mumble against his lips ‘can you show me how to touch a dick now?’

‘fuck’

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #abby talks #eddie munson request #eddie stranger things smut #screaming crying salivating

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funnylittlelad · 1 year

Text

Trailer Park Blues - Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader

Thank you for 100 followers! :)

Read on AO3

summary: You don't think much when you start letting Hellfire use your trailer for their meetings. Dustin asked and you caved, as per usual. What you weren't expecting was the rollercoaster ride that becomes your relationship with your little brother's best friend, Eddie Munson.

wordcount: 15.8k

tags/notes: SMUT (MDNI), gn!reader (nonbinary coded if you squint), reader is Dustin's older sibling, name-calling, degradation, hate fucking i'm ngl it's hate fucking, unprotected sex, power play, mentions of bad past relationships, queer eddie munson, talks about dead parents being dead

You might kill Dustin. The windows of your trailer are illuminated. He told you they’d all be gone by the time you got home from work. As you get closer to the door and hear the excited shouts you know that they’re all still here. You’re tired, you smell, and the last thing you want to do is look at a bunch of high schoolers playing some table top bullshit.

“Dustin,” you shout as you swing the front door open.

Everyone at the dining table jumps and snaps to look at you. When you enter your trailer you’re immediately met with a view of the living room to your right and the small kitchen to your left. Your table is in the middle, creating a makeshift dining area turned D&D area.

The normal crew is there, Mike, Lucas, and Will. There are some new, and semi-new faces. The semi-new face is one you’ve seen, but never spoken to. Eddie Munson, four trailers down, and originally part of your graduating class.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of us!” Dustin exclaims, holding his heaving chest.

“You’re not supposed to be here for me to scare the shit out of,” you remind him, the annoyance evident.

“I know, I’m sorry. We’re almost done, I promise. Can we please just finish?” he pleads with big eyes and a quivering lip.

This fucking kid knows he has everyone in his life around his damn finger. You’d like to smack him.

“Fine, but you’re explaining to mom why you're not home yet,” you point at him as you speak.

His face breaks into a smile.

“You’re the best!”

“Call, now,” you order.

When Dustin goes to the phone on the wall next to your fridge, you exit to the short hall. The company isn't going to stop you from showering. Eddie is frozen. His eyes follow you as you leave the room, mouth parted slightly. You barged in a little angry and it knocked him through a loop. His poor little bisexual heart felt ready to explode. You must get more shit than he does looking like that. Doesn't matter that you’re stunning, being the picture of androgyny in Hawkins can't be easy. He wants so badly to examine that picture up close and in detail. Dustin was right about one thing. Jesus Christ.

When the kid told Eddie they could use his sibling’s trailer Eddie was surprised to find he lived so close to a Henderson without realizing. Now, he really can't believe it.

“Okay, let’s finish before I get my ass kicked,” Dustin says as he comes back to the table.

Eddie snaps out of the trance he fell into.

“Uh-we can call it here,” Eddie says, sounding far away.

The rest of the table balks at him.

“You’re calling the campaign early?” Dustin questions.

“When I asked if we could cut last week's campaign short you said you would strangle me with your bare hands,” Mike adds in disbelief.

“We’re in the middle of a fight,” Will protests.

The rest of the table starts voicing their own arguments creating a cacophony of disgruntled nerds.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie gets loud to quiet down the table, “Dustin’s next in initiative.”

The boys cheer triumphantly causing Eddie to smile. If his eyes keep darting to where you disappeared down the hall… Well, that’s his business. Your trailer is close to his in layout, but it’s much more well-kempt and put together. Makes sense since you live here alone and two grown men live in Eddie’s.

When you reappear, toweling off your hair, they’re wrapping up. Your sweatpants that sit just below your belly button and short cropped shirt don't go unnoticed by Eddie. His eyes glide over your midriff and the soft dark hair that it's home to. It seems no matter what you’re in you remain more androgynous than Boy George.

A trait that absolutely entices the queer disaster that is Eddie Munson. Dustin only ever uses sibling to talk about you. He doesn't use any language that would give any more away than your appearance does. It doesn't matter anyways, Eddie is infatuated regardless. Maybe even partially because of.

The boys all throw you a goodbye as they exit until only Dustin and Eddie are left. Dustin is cleaning up any dishes or garbage left behind while Eddie packs up all the D&D materials. You didn't realize how much goes into this table top bullshit. Eddie has books, binders, and notebooks worth of information and ideas. There's stats and prices of various items on the screen he puts up so no one can peek at his notes. Then there's the velvet drawstring bag of different shaped dice. Shapes you’ve never even seen dice come in before.

“How long were you guys playing for?” you ask the two of them from where you lean against the counter.

You don't know what time they got started, just that they were supposed to be gone when you got home.

“Six hours,” Dustin says sheepishly.

“Six hours?”

“It took longer than expected,” he shrugs with an apologetic smile.

You chuckle and shake your head. Your eyes flicker over to Eddie, catching him staring at you with wide dark eyes. Once your gaze meets his he looks down and hurries to finish packing up. You choose to disregard it. Eddie Munson can eat dirt if he thinks he's in any position to judge you. If only you knew he wasn't judging you, he was admiring you.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to just spend the night? I don't like the idea of you biking home when it's this dark out,” you say to Dustin softly.

You don't have a car of your own to drive him. Since everything that happened with Will… Yeah, he’s definitely not biking home alone at night.

“I can bring him,” Eddie offers as he zips up his bag.

“You can bring him?” You question thinking about the death trap of a van you’ve seen him drive.

Somehow, that feels even worse.

“Yeah, I can bring him,” he repeats and finally meets your eyes again.

He sees the distrust, the anxiety. It hits him in the gut.

“That’s okay, he can just spend the night,” you refuse him politely.

“How d’you think he got here in the first place?” Eddie asks with raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

Your nostrils flare a little at the smugness.

“Then I should consider myself lucky he’s still in one piece,” you shoot back.

Eddie dramatically grabs his stomach and doubles over with a grunt as if he has just been punched.

“You hurt me, Henderson,” he huffs as he looks up at you from his bent state.

A smile grows on his face when he sees you fighting off your own.

“Hello, I’m right here, y’know,” Dustin looks between the two of you exasperatedly, “I can go with Eddie.”

“Dust-”

“I can go with Eddie,” he cuts you off to repeat himself.

You exhale sharply through your nose. The two of you glare at each other for a moment. You still lean against the counter while Dustin stands beside the table. Eddie watches from where he stands on the opposite side of the table. Then your smoldering gaze turns to Eddie, stopping his breathing.

“Do the speed limit,” your voice is even, but so stern that all Eddie can do is nod.

He swallows the lump that forms in his throat as a result.

“Cross my heart,” he uses his pointer finger to draw an X over his heart.

Dustin hugs you goodbye. You make him promise to call tomorrow. Eddie gives you one last wide eyed look, a small smile plays on his lips. Then you’re finally alone. You love having Dustin over, but you’re also glad to have peace and quiet.

You moved out a few short months after graduation. Your overbearing mother proved too much to continue living with. Dustin was pissed at first. He came around when he realized it meant having a space to escape to and be himself. Something you're more than happy to provide for him.

He was thrilled to learn that Eddie lives only four trailers away from you. When Dustin asked if Hellfire could meet at your place to continue a campaign they had started you agreed for this one time. Even when you said it, you had a feeling Dustin will end up begging for

more and you’ll end up caving. The kid really does have everyone wrapped around his finger. Eddie included it seems.

“So, are they always so…,” Eddie struggles to finish his question as he drives through Hawkins.

Hot, breathtaking, pulse pounding, awestriking. He can't really say any of that to Dustin.

“Protective?” Dustin offers.

“Protective works,” Eddie nods.

Not exactly what he was thinking, but that applies too.

“Pretty much.”

“How long have they lived in Forest Hills?” He tries to keep his tone casual, but ends up sounding just a little too interested.

He can feel Dustin’s eyes burning into the side of his head.

“Year and a half,” Dustin answers.

“So they're… nineteen?”

“Twenty.”

Eddie glances over at Dustin. He looks one part irritated and two parts suspicious. Eddie adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.

“Wait, we were in the same grade?” Eddie asks, surprised.

“You were supposed to be,” Dustin ribs.

“You wanna walk from here, Henderson?”

“You wanna get murdered?”

Eddie shoots him a glare knowing he’s right. His threat is hollow with you around. If you found out he let Dustin walk halfway home he’s sure he wouldn't see morning.

“Why are you asking?” Dustin inquired after a moment of silence. Eddie shrugs.

“Just curious.”

“Uh-huh,” Dustin sounds entirely unconvinced.

“Whatever,” Eddie mutters to himself. He pushes you out of his mind and focuses on driving.

He can feel Dustin’s occasional glances. The younger Henderson has clocked his strange demeanor, he knows it. It’s not hard. He isn't as goofy or teasing. He’s more lost in thought than he'd like. He just doesn't know how he's never noticed you before. How has he never noticed the one person in Hawkins that seems to tick every single fucking box he could possibly have?

***

The next time Eddie sees you it’s raining. The weather is only noteable because he sees you walking home with no umbrella. He catches you as you make it under the awning of the movie theater. It gives you temporary shelter from the pounding of the rain. Eddie pulls over to the curb in front of you. He had been going to the store to grab some munchies, but that’s something he can do later.

You eye his van curiously. He doesn’t bother with his hazards. Cars go around him without issue. He leans over and cranks the window down.

“You need a ride?” he calls out.

“I’m good, thanks,” you call back.

“Seriously? You’ll catch your death walking all the way to Forest Hills in this. Just get in.”

You sigh, but do as he says. It's not like you want to walk in the rain. Keeping a distance from Eddie just felt like the right thing to do. He gives you a feeling in your gut you can't quite place. He always has. Is it possible to admire someone and not like them?

“Thanks,” you say as you close the door.

You’re shivering as you drip on his seat.

“Yeah, no problem,” Eddie says as he blasts the heat.

His typically loud music is soft as he drives. Something you appreciate. Work was a headache. Having to walk home in the rain was a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass Eddie has luckily saved you from.

“Where d’you work, anyways?” he asks after a few minutes.

“I’m a manager over at the general store.”

“Shit, really? I steal-I mean I-uh go there all the time,” Eddie doesn’t course correct quite fast enough.

To his surprise, you laugh. It’s a nice sound. Calming like the rain is when you aren't stranded in it.

“I’ll remember that next time I see you in there.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that. Eddie is actually a better driver than you assumed. It makes you feel a little better about Dustin driving around with him. You don't even notice you've stopped shivering. The van is warming you up, but you’re still soaked.

“Sorry about your seats, by the way,” you say.

“Eh, it’s just some water. These seats have seen worse,” he shrugs.

You grimace in disgust.

“Like what?”

Eddie lets out a hearty laugh.

“Probably better you don’t know.”

“Jesus, you’re nasty, Munson,” your laughter betrays you.

“Oh, you have no idea, Henderson.”

Another round of comfortable silence as Forest Hills comes into view. You expect Eddie to park at his trailer. You don't mind walking the short distance to your own. Instead he pulls right up to your door.

“Seriously thank you, Eddie,” you give him a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. If- y'know, if you need a ride again you can give me a call.”

“Sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to give me your phone number,” you tease.

Eddie chuckles.

“Two birds, one stone,” he smiles.

“You’ll need to try harder than that, Munson. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” You flash him a smile and then you’re gone.

Only the wet imprint of your ass lets him know you were ever really there in the first place.

***

“Please,” Dustin pleads over the phone. You sigh.

“Dustin, it’s my day off. I don't want to sit here and listen to you guys for six hours,” you tell him.

“We’ll only be an hour, two tops.”

“Dustin-”

“I can stay over after and we can hang out. We’ll watch E.T.,” he sweetens the pot.

He knows that's your favorite movie and he knows you’re a sucker for quality time with him. Little asshole.

“Fine, but you only get two hours before I kick everyone out.”

“Three?”

“Two and a half.”

“Thank you, you're the best, bye!” he hangs up before you have a chance to change your mind. You chuckle and shake your head.

Two and a half hours stuck in your room isn't too bad. Besides, you’re not really stuck. You just don't want to get in the way, or listen on in utter confusion. You know a little about D&D from Dustin talking about it, but not enough to follow. Sure you’ll pop out to grab a drink, maybe something to eat, but overall you intend to stay removed.

Part of you wants to stay away from Eddie. You know he’ll just start flirting and you'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to resist giving it right back to him. It shouldn't surprise you when Eddie is the first to show an hour later, but it does. He gives a quick rhythmic knock on your door.

“I'm surprised you made it so early. I know the commute is killer,” you quip when you see him standing outside the screen door.

With a grin, Eddie braces his lower back beneath his old bookbag and leans into his hands a bit to dramatize discomfort.

“Yeah, my back is killing me from the long drive over,” he makes a face as he jokes to drive it home.

You chuckle and push the screen door open to let him in.

“Dustin isn't here yet,” you tell him as he enters.

He pauses just inside the doorway leaving him so close to you his body heat reaches the skin of your arms.

“I can come back,” he says and begins to turn.

“No, it's alright. He should be here soon. I’m assuming you need to get set up or something?” you tilt your head toward the cleared off dining table. He nods and you hold your arm out to tell him he’s welcome to continue inside.

You watch him make his way to the table. Something about the way he’s joking back with you makes you wonder if you had things wrong. Maybe he wasn't flirting in the van the other day. Maybe it was just friendly banter.

“Thanks for letting us play here. We usually use the drama room, but they’ve needed it more with that stupid musical coming up,” Eddie says as he opens his bag and begins to pull things out.

“Let me guess, Grease?” you shut the door and find your place on the couch.

Eddie glances at you with an amused smirk.

“Sure is.”

“Figures. Thank God Dustin isn't a theater kid. I don't think I could sit through that every year,” you chuckle.

Eddie’s smile is curious, maybe even a bit nervous. You're watching him and it makes his movements just a little less sure.

“Instead you get a bunch'a freaks playing D&D at your table.”

“You calling my brother a freak, Munson?” There’s an edge to your words.

Eddie’s eyes get wide.

“Uh- no, I-”

“I’m just kidding, calm down,” you laugh, “it’s okay, he is a freak. Besides, I don't think you’d ever be mean to Dustin.”

“Why’s that?”

“He worships the ground you walk on. If you were ever mean to him your uncle would need to pull dental records to identify you,” you say it light heartedly with a smile.

Your voice and expression don't match the vicious threat. Eddie’s heart thumps hard as he spreads out the battle map.

“You’re a little scary, y’know that?”

“How else am I supposed to keep you in line?”

Heat crawls up Eddie’s neck. His throat dries and he clumsily knocks into his DM screen. It clatters flat onto the table. You watch on in amusement as he fumbles with it. He’s flustered. A fact that goes straight to your ego. Eddie is Dustin’s friend so you had no plans to actually be mean or rude to him. Admittedly, your brother is pretty good at picking people. Even if others don't see what he does in those people.

Is flustering Eddie by accident mean or rude? Is continuing to do it because you like that you can?

“How is it I’ve never seen you around before?” Eddie asks once the DM screen is back up the way he wants it.

“You have, you just never noticed,” you shrug.

“Trust me, I would have noticed you,” he glances at you as he says it.

When he sees your attention is already on him, he quickly moves on to digging out the miniatures he brought.

“Trust me, you wouldn't have. I haven't always been this comfortable dressing and existing how I want. Not everyone can be Eddie Munson,” you give him a small smile.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he pauses setting up to look at you.

He half expects insults to start being hurled at him.

“You’ve always been yourself. Even when it would be easier to be someone else. I’ve always admired that about you. It took me a long time to be that brave,” you answer genuinely.

His face reddens and his eyes nearly strike you down where you sit. They’re big, as always, and the distinct brown of them swims in an emotion you can't place. Eddie’s heart is in his throat. He knows he’s attracted to you physically, but you might have just sunk a hook in him emotionally. Whether you meant to or not, you nearly destroyed him with your words. He can't remember the last time someone has said such nice things to his face.

“Always, huh? You been watching me, Henderson?” he bounces back, diffusing his own feelings with the joke.

You shrug with an innocent smile.

“You make it hard not to.”

Eddie’s face somehow gets even hotter. He might need to peel off his jacket if this keeps up. As he struggles to come up with a response to that, Dustin bursts in. The large smile on his face drops when he sees the flustered state of Eddie. His eyes travel back and forth between the two of you.

“What’s happening?” he asks

“Just getting to know your friend,” you shrug casually.

Traces of that smile can still be found on your face. That's when Eddie knows you’re doing it on purpose. You saw how flustered you made him and decided to keep going. He’s not sure if he hates you or just fell in love with you.

“Right,” Dustin says, completely unconvinced.

“Okay, well, I’ll make myself scarce before the rest of the nerds get here. Remember, two and a half hours, Dustin,” you point at him as you rise from the couch.

“I know, I know.”

Eddie watches you disappear down the hall. His eyes stay on the beginning of the hallway until he hears your bedroom door click shut. Then he finally looks at the boy in front of him. Dustin has narrowed eyes on Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asks defensively and continues emptying his bag.

“You tell me,” Dustin crosses his arms.

“I don't know what you mean,” Eddie lies as he spreads out his reference materials and notes behind the screen.

“Bullshit.”

“We were just talking.”

Before Dustin can pry further the rest of the boys start piling in. Mike, Lucas, and Will are confident just walking in like they live there. Jeff and Gareth follow with more hesitation. Eddie happily dives in once everyone is settled at the table. Happy to continue the campaign and happy to avoid talking about you further with Dustin. He’s not sure how the younger Henderson will take his burgeoning crush.

Around thirty minutes into their gameplay you appear for a drink. You notice immediately that Eddie becomes distracted when you pop into the kitchen. Eddie’s eyes track you the entire way as the others discuss their next move. You catch his gaze when you turn around from the fridge. Before he can try to act like he wasn't staring, you smirk. Then you’re taking a nice long drink from your can of coke. Eddie swallows, watching you, Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to regain the ability to speak.

“Eddie,” Dustin waves his hand in front of Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie blinks back into the game, feeling like he traveled a million light years and back. Dustin glances over his shoulder to where Eddie had been zoned off staring. You give your brother a small wave when he sees you. His eyebrows furrowed as he looks back to Eddie who is trying desperately to get back on track. Eddie hazards one more quick look at you. You throw him a wink as you make your exit. On their way back to the table in front of him, his eyes meet Dustin’s.

“What the hell was that?” Dustin questions.

“That was Mike getting knocked prone,” Eddie answers and reaches over his screen to knock Mike’s miniature on its side.

“You’re deflecting,” Mike says smugly, happy to have some retribution for the hit Eddie’s NPC made on his character.

“Uh, no, I’m DM-ing,” he makes a sweeping gesture to the layout in front of him.

“Holy shit, Eddie has a crush,” Lucas realizes out loud.

Dustin groans.

“Are we gonna have to stop playing here?” Will asks genuinely.

Will is the only one Eddie can consider innocent here. The rest of them earn a glare.

“I don't know, Eddie, will we?” Dustin sasses with a pointed look at Eddie.

“No, we won't. We only have a couple hours here, can we get back to the fucking game?” Eddie snaps them back into focus.

An hour goes by and you’re back. This time Eddie is able to drag his gaze away from where you’re digging around in a cabinet. You have to reach up in a way that exposes the skin of your stomach. A silky stripe of skin and some tufts of dark hair between your too small shirt and sweatpants.

Instead of allowing himself to get distracted by you again, he starts putting on more of a show. His movements become more dramatic, he throws himself more fully into the voices he’s doing, and overall amping up the theatrics. He figures if you admire him always being himself, he'll dial himself up to ten.

You find yourself leaning against the counter with a bag of chips in your hand watching. No one else seems to have noticed your arrival. They’re too taken in by the narrative Eddie is weaving. You can't blame them. Eddie puts his full body into it. After a couple minutes he lets the group deliberate their next move. His eyes flicker over to you again, a smirk on his face. The eye contact jolts you from whatever weird fog you’d fallen into watching him. As you make your leave you see the quick wink Eddie tosses your way.

Your heart is loud in your ears when you shut your door. Oh, it’s on, Munson, you think to yourself. If there's one thing you are, it's competitive. It’s clear you fluster Eddie, which means there’s some type of attraction there. Truthfully, you’re attracted to him too. You always have been. His authenticity and ability to stay true to himself have always drawn you in. Now that you can tell he’s into this too, you’re ready to have fun with it. The two of you have officially entered a little game and you refuse to lose.

An old pair of shorts is your next move. They’re Hawkins High green with white trim and stripes up the side of each leg. They’re long enough to cover everything, but short enough to draw attention. You give it another fifteen minutes before re-emerging. When you do so you fan yourself with your hand to pretend your room is hot. Without looking to see if Eddie has noticed you bend at the hips to start peering in the fridge. You look innocuous enough searching for a water bottle to cool down. Then you hear a clattering, a few shouts, and fumbling.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses.

You turn around with a water bottle pressed to your forehead. Everyone, but Eddie, is frantically looking for something on the floor. A small red pointy looking die sits in front of you on the linoleum, a black number twenty facing up. You pluck it off the floor and hold it up lazily.

“You guys looking for this?” you ask. A couple of them hit their heads on the table on their way up.

When they see the D20 between your fingers they swarm you. Suddenly you’re trapped against the fridge by several manic nerds. Dustin grabs the sides of your upper arms.

“Did you see what it landed on?” He all but demands.

You shove him off and push through them. Eddie remains seated at the table watching with huge eyes.

“First off, whose is it?” you ask.

“Mine,” Eddie’s voice wavers just a bit on the single syllable.

With a bright smile you walk it over to him. He looks up at you when you’re next to the table, face getting more and more red. You place the D20 down in front of him, black twenty still up. His mouth parts slightly as if to say something, but nothing comes out. You have him all lined up where you want him. Now, you just have to make the goal by brandishing some of the only D&D knowledge Dustin has imparted on you.

“Natural twenty,” you say, your smile curling into something more mischievous, “Congrats on the crit.”

Eddie continues blinking his wide dark eyes at you. The rest of the boys groan behind you. Whatever Eddie just rolled for clearly isn't good for them. They all take their seats again.

“You couldn't have lied?” Dustin huffs comically.

“And rob your DM of his roll? Never,” you chuckle.

You lift his hat, ruffle his hair, and walk off. Eddie gapes after you, heart absolutely pounding. He won't be able to stand the rest of the game. His jeans got a little tighter when he saw you bent over in those fucking shorts, distracting him mid roll. It only got worse when you walked over his D20, looked down at him like you know the hold you have, and congratulated him on his nat twenty.

“I think he’s drooling,” Mike’s voice pulls Eddie back to the table.

“He’s speechless,” Gareth adds.

“I’m not speechless. I'm contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?” Lucas questions unconvinced.

“How exactly I want this nat twenty to fuck up your day.”

You don't make another appearance until their time is up. By the time you make it out there it's just Dustin and Eddie. Dustin is on his knees in the living room looking through the different VHS tapes you have in a milk crate. Eddie is packing away all his stuff neatly.

“How’d it go?” you ask them as you plop down onto your couch.

Dustin launches into an excited and detailed account of the game. Eddie expects you to tell him to calm down, that you don't need a play by play of every second. You don't. Instead you listen encouragingly, ask questions for clarification, and let Dustin rattle on.

“Sounds like you did a good job with this one, Dungeon Master,” you say to Eddie with a smile.

His heart skips.

“Even I have my days,” he shoots you a smile in return as he zips up his bag.

“Yeah? Maybe one of these days you’ll be able to keep your dice on the table,” you tease.

Dustin watches the two of you and it clicks. At first he thought Eddie was just taking a morbid interest. You’ve had plenty of that. Guys in Hawkins like experimenting, toeing the line you ride between genders, and then denying anything ever happened when they come to their senses. He didn't want to think Eddie would be like that, but as protective as you are of Dustin he is of you. The way you prop your chin on your hand and lean on the arm of the couch toward Eddie finally clues Dustin in. You're into Eddie too.

“Eddie, you should stay and watch E.T. with us,” Dustin interjects.

Your eyes dart to him curiously.

“I promised Wayne I'd be home by eight. Next time, alright?” Eddie swings his bag over his shoulder.

Dustin is disappointed, but doesn't put up a fight. Eddie knew he wouldn't last through a movie with you. Not if earlier was any indication of what you’re capable of doing to him. Not with Dustin around. As disappointed as you might be, you’re also relieved. If Eddie sat next to you the movie would have been forgotten immediately. You and Dustin bid Eddie farewell and start the movie.

Dustin is knocked out on the couch by the end of it. You throw the soft blanket you keep in the living room over him. It’s too early for you to be tired. You take to cleaning up a little, grabbing what Dustin missed when cleaning up after the campaign. When you go to toss the little bits of trash in the garbage can you find it full. You roll your eyes knowing full well Dustin left it like this for you when he could have taken it out.

The outside air nips at your exposed legs. It’s a short walk to the dumpster, but in the dark it can be creepy. Forest Hills isn't the most lit up place at night. You hurry to toss the bag into the dumpster.

“Come here often?”

The voice startles you. You whip around with a small yelp. Eddie stands before you with a garbage bag in his hand and a teasing smirk on his face. When you realize it's him you recover quickly.

“Only when I’m hoping to see you,” you tease as you step out of his way. He tosses his own bag in the dumpster and turns to face you.

“You callin’ me trash, Henderson?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I didn't say that, but if that's what you took from it…” you smile playfully.

He shakes his head chuckling.

“You're kinda mean,” Eddie points at you as he says it.

“Am I?” You ask, taking a step forward.

There's a foot of space between you and Eddie. You can see his breathing stutter in his chest.

“Yeah, but I like it,” he admits quietly, heart pounding.

You smile and take another step forward. You’re fully in Eddie’s space now. He can't even tell if he’s still breathing. You’re still in those fucking shorts, you're openly flirting with him, and you’re so god damn close. He might just die on the spot.

“Do you?” You're torturing him now.

He knows it. You know it.

“Now you’re just tryna get me to say nice things about you,” he teases with a smirk.

How he’s maintaining any amount of composure is beyond him. Maybe God is real and right now Eddie is His favorite little soldier.

“Is that so hard?”

“No, not when you're wearing those.”

He nods down to your shorts. You laugh, placing a hand on the breast of his jean vest over his leather jacket.

“I thought you’d like’em.”

“You were right.”

“I’m glad I dug them out for you then,” you smirk, toying with one of the many pins on his vest.

“You- for me?” Eddie sputters not expecting the bold statement.

Light teasing and flirting, sure, but not that.

“You’re really surprised?” you chuckle.

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs lamely. His composure is quickly slipping.

“Then you haven't been paying attention very well,” you chide playfully.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes.

Before you can say another word, Eddie breaks. He grabs the sides of your face and crashes his lips into yours. You grasp onto the denim of his vest as you melt into it. His lips are warm, urgent, and a little sloppy with desperation. The kiss sends a thrill through your entire body. It’s only when he pulls away that you remember where you are. Outside at night kissing Eddie Munson next to the fucking dumpster. Are you sixteen again?

You just look into each other's eyes for a second. Eddie’s face is still just inches away from yours. His pupils are blown to shit and you're sure yours are too. You drag him forward again by the grip on his vest. This time your other hand finds a home in his coarse wavy to curly hair. He moans into your mouth as your hold on his hair tightens. You give a surprised groan when his hand grabs your ass. He rides the shorts up just enough for him to brush against the skin they once covered.

It takes an extreme amount of effort to pull away. Somehow, you manage. Both of you are breathing heavily. After a second of just studying each other's face, you shake your head with a smile.

“I better get going before I try to jump your bones in the dumpster,” you say, but don't move.

“Maybe you can jump my bones another time,” Eddie suggests with a smile.

You chuckle.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Aren't you eager,” you tease.

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess not.”

He gives you an expectant stare. You pretend to think his offer over.

“Okay, tomorrow. Dustin should be gone by one,” you nod.

Eddie fights off a groan. He forgot about the Dustin of it all. Maybe this isn't a good idea. Maybe he should call the whole thing off.

“See you tomorrow,” he says instead.

“I look forward to it,” you smile and leave him.

He watches you walk back to your trailer. Without you pressed against him, he’s suddenly cold. He jogs back to his own trailer still in disbelief. His thoughts are spinning. One thing is for sure, his dreams are going to be full of you tonight.

***

Eddie’s fist hovers by the door for a second. This is his last chance to back out. It’s his last chance to turn around and avoid any awkward confrontation with Dustin later. Eddie cares about that kid’s opinion of him far too much. Once he has the thought to leave, he gives a quick rhythmic knock.

“Eddie?” Dustin questions when he opens the door, “What are you doing here?”

Eddie struggles for something to say. Dustin is supposed to be gone.

“Oh, Eddie left his dice. I gave him a call last night,” your voice calls from deeper in the trailer.

The lie is easy and smooth.

“So, you gonna let me in or what?” Eddie jerks his chin up at Dustin.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his vest. The left one is wrapped around the condom he brought just in case you didn't have any. He’s almost afraid if he lets go it’ll fall out and Dustin will have more questions.

Dustin pushes the screen door open to let Eddie in. When he enters he sees you standing over the kitchen sink. You shoot him an apologetic look over your shoulder. He returns it with a small understanding smile. Clearly, you hadn't planned on Dustin still being here either. You turn off the water, dry your hands on a nearby towel, and face him from the kitchen.

“I have the dice in my room,” you tilt your head toward the hallway.

You lead Eddie to your bedroom. It’s at the end of the short hall, similar to his own. An unmade full bed is pushed into the far corner under the singular window. A dresser sits in the opposite corner with a couple framed pictures on top and what looks like a small silver urn. The wall behind your bed is adorned with an intricate forest green tapestry with the tree of life on it.

“I’m so sorry,” you begin in a hushed voice.

“S’alright,” Eddie assures you.

“He decided to stay and I couldn't exactly tell him no,” you explain anxiously.

“It’s really alright, Henderson,” he gives you a reassuring smile.

Your heart skips a beat. Part of you feared he’d be pissed. There have been plenty of guys in the past whose tempers were as short as their sexuality was confusing. Eddie notices the way you relax when you accept his words.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang out as long as you’d like,” you tell him.

“Maybe I should go. This probably wasn't a good idea anyway,” he says with a quick look over his shoulder.

Dustin is still in the living room, Eddie can hear the tv. When his eyes turn back to you, your whole demeanor has changed. Your face is suddenly unreadable. Your stance is closed off.

“Yeah, maybe you're right,” your voice is cold.

Eddie starts internally panicking. Clearly he said the wrong thing, but he doesn't know what.

“It’s not you,” he rushes to explain, “it’s Dustin.”

You roll your eyes.

“Don't use my brother as an excuse for whatever sexuality struggle you're having,” you whisper harshly.

Eddie’s hands find either side of his head. His fingers sink into his hair as he tries to understand how this situation turned on him.

“I’m not having a sexuality struggle,” he argues, frustration beginning to bubble up.

“Whatever, Eddie. I’ve been through this too many times.”

“Through what? You're not actually fucking talking to me. Just talk to me,” he gestured wildly in the air, shaking his hands in a pleading motion.

“Through assholes chatting me up, making me feel special, like maybe someone actually fucking likes me. Only to find out I was nothing but a novelty. I don't know why I thought you could be any different,” you explain bitterly with a shake of your head.

Eddie runs a hand over his face as he processes. Your words sting. They burn tiny lacerations into his skin. I don't know why I thought you could be any different. He never thought he'd be compared to the rest of Hawkins, always an outlier. You’re grouping him in with probably the worst Hawkins has to offer. Now that really fucking hurts.

“I do actually fucking like you. Why can't you get it's more complicated than that?”

“Oh, I get it. You can't figure out what you’re feeling and you’re afraid it’ll make you gay. So, test it out with me and then move the fuck on like nothing ever happened,” you say while crossing your arms. You fold in on yourself, becoming smaller and smaller before Eddie’s eyes.

“I am gay-I mean not gay gay but-fuck,” Eddie struggles.

The heels of his hands dig into his eyes as he tries to collect his racing thoughts.

“Just go, Eddie. We can pretend this never happened,” your voice is low, almost a rumble.

“Will you just listen to me?” he demands frustratedly, voice raised.

“Is everything alright?” Dustin appears in the open doorway.

His face is full of concern and confusion.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Dust. Eddie was just leaving.”

Eddie gives you a desperate look. He pleads with those big brown eyes. When it's clear you’re done and this conversation isn't going any further he sighs.

“See you later, Henderson,” he mumbles as he pushes past Dustin.

You’re not really sure which one of you it's directed at. Eddie isn't either.

***

You actively avoid Eddie the following week. It’s painfully obvious. He wants a chance to grab you. To talk to you and explain the misunderstanding. He's beginning to think you can sense that and that's why you’ve been so slippery as of late. The only time he really could is when you’re on your way to work, but he doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to make you late or upset you before a shift.

Dustin opens the door the next time Eddie knocks. You’re still letting them play in your trailer, but you haven't been home the last couple sessions. He does his best not to let it bother him. It's fucking hard when Dustin keeps giving him these watchful, curious looks. Almost like he’s trying to decipher what happened just by studying Eddie’s face. These looks are peppered throughout the entire campaign, exhausting Eddie.

It feels like fate when you come home as he’s packing up. He gives you an unsure smile. You return it and go into your room. That’s something. That’s progress. At the end of the day, Eddie doesn't want you thinking so low of him. He hates knowing you think he'd use you as an experiment. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a piece of shit.

“Dustin, if you need a ride home Steve is stopping by in a few minutes,” you call out from your bedroom.

When you walk back out you’re in a pair of dark blue shorts that fall to your mid-thigh, and a baggy white muscle shirt. You catch the expression Eddie was making before he managed to wipe it off his face. You pause between the kitchen and the front door.

“What?” you question a little aggressively.

Eddie holds his hands up to his chest in surrender. The unwarranted attitude automatically sets him off.

“Put the gun away, jeez. I didn't know you’re friends with Harrington is all,” Eddie snaps back defensively.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you guys? I thought you liked each other, but now you’re acting like you hate each other,” Dustin interrupts exasperated.

“Shut up,” the two of you say in unison.

Your head snaps to Eddie.

“Did you just tell my brother to shut up, Munson?” you demand.

“You did too!”

“Because he’s my brother. Who the fuck are you to talk to him that way?”

“Will you calm down?” Dustin demands.

“Dust-”

“No, this is so stupid. What happened?”

You grit your teeth. A sharp exhale exits your flared nostrils. Your eyes flicker to Eddie for a second. His face is red with frustration, his eyebrows are set, and his mouth is a thin line. You look back to Dustin's confused face.

“Jason,” you state flatly.

“Jason?” Eddie questions, absolutely bewildered.

Dustin’s face drops. His eyes squeeze shut as he sighs. You watch him slowly turn to look at Eddie. Eddie’s stomach sinks when he sees Dustin’s broken expression.

“Eddie, you didn't,” he pleads softly.

Eddie’s eyes fly furiously between you and Dustin. He’s trying to grasp what the fuck is happening. Why did you bring up Jason? Why is Dustin looking at him like that?

“Didn’t what? What’s going on?” he asks, absolutely lost.

“You should go,” Dustin answers solemnly.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking Hendersons don't know how to have a conversation to save your lives,” Eddie grumbles as he continues packing up his stuff.

“What’s that, Munson?” You demand, stepping forward.

“C’mon, don’t-” Dustin starts.

“Dustin, go wait outside,” you order without looking at him.

Your glare remains firmly on Eddie. Eddie who is glaring firmly back, only the battle map left on the table.

“I’m not gonna wa-”

“Outside, now.”

Dustin huffs, but ultimately listens. Once the door is slammed shut behind him you march up to Eddie. Eddie backs up, but you don't stop. Soon his back hits the wall and there’s nowhere else to go. You stop directly in front of him and start aggressively poking his chest.

“Let’s get something fucking straight, Munson. If you’re going to be using my home for your stupid fucking childish fantasy game you're not going to talk about Dustin or me that way, got it?” you spat.

“Oh, now it's a stupid fucking childish fantasy game. That’s rich. You didn’t seem to think that when you were drooling over me DMing.” Eddie counters, still holding up his facade of confidence despite being cornered.

“Please, don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff.

“I’m not. It’s pretty fucking clear you’re into me, sweetheart.”

“Yeah? And what are you? Completely indifferent? You get a hard on just from seeing me in shorts. You're pathetic.”

Eddie wants to be hurt. He wants to be hurt so fucking bad. His body has other plans in response to your words, though. Fire spreads to every limb. He has half a mind to bend you over the table right now and show you just how pathetic he is. He’s ready to make you an incoherent mewling mess so he can lean down and whisper who’s pathetic now? into your ear.

“And you’re a fucking tease,” he snaps instead.

“Holy shit,” you laugh sarcastically, “You’re getting turned on right now, aren't you?”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Me? Munson, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

The front door slams open. You whip around and Eddie’s eyes snap up to the door. Steve is standing there with his hands on his hips, looking completely unimpressed.

“Alright, kids, what seems to be the problem here?” Steve asks.

He steps into the trailer with Dustin at his heels. Both you and Eddie are red, breathing heavily, and still standing within an inch of each other.

“Steve, can you just bring Dustin home, please?” you try to sound less irritated, but it doesn't work very well.

“Okay, well, one, you said I could borrow your blue jacket. And two, I’m not going anywhere until you two explain what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing, I’m just dealing with Jason Junior over here,” you answer, crossing your arms.

Steve’s head lolls back briefly in exasperation.

“God, Eddie, not you too,” he groans.

“Not me too, what? Can you guys stop being so fucking cryptic and tell me what you mean?” Eddie demands.

He’s absolutely over being compared to Jason out of everyone. You huff and walk away. The three of them watch you wander into your room and then back out. You throw the blue bomber jacket at Steve. He catches it with a frown.

“Everyone just get the fuck out of my house,” you grumble and stomp back to your room.

The door slams with such force Eddie is surprised he doesn't hear the wood splinter. All three boys flinch at the sound. Eddie scoffs to himself and starts to barge out. Steve stands in front of the door, blocking Eddie’s way.

“Move, Harrington,” Eddie orders.

“Not until you tell me what all that was about, Munson.”

“Can we do this outside?” Dustin interjects.

The three of them leave the trailer. You’re left alone in your room with nothing, but endless silence. Endless silence and that heavy feeling you get in your stomach whenever you just get done ruining everything.

“Okay, can someone please tell me what the fuck all this Jason bullshit is about?” Eddie turns on Dustin and Steve once they’re a good few feet from the trailer.

Steve and Dustin exchange a look that Eddie doesn't like. They’re both privy to something about you that Eddie isn't. It’s not surprising, but it's surely irritating. Especially when everyone is talking about it like he knows too.

“You remember that black eye Jason had inexplicably about four months ago?” Steve sighs.

“Yeah, it was a helluva shiner.”

“I gave him that.”

Eddie spends a moment just blinking. How is this relevant?

“Okay…” Eddie trails off, shaking his head to tell Steve to continue.

“I gave him that because he’s a little prick that really fucked’em over,” Steve continued with a gesture over his shoulder at your trailer.

“Wait… Jason? They were with Jason?” Eddie questions in disbelief.

“Yeah, behind locked doors. Until Jason was done playing queer and got with Chrissy without saying anything,” Dustin says bitterly.

Hearing queer from Dustin’s mouth kinda stung Eddie, he won't lie. He knows Dustin meant it in a sexuality way, not derogatory. Something he likely picked up from you. Still, there’s something about someone decidedly straight saying it.

“When they confronted him about it he… He said some not very nice things. It really fucked with them. Like really fucked with them. I mean he wasn't the first one to do something like that, but he was the worst one,” Steve explained, sounding irritated at the memory.

“I still don't get what that has to do with me,” Eddie rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You tell us,” Dustin crosses his arms.

“I don't fucking know.”

“Just tell us what happened between the two of you,” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose, a hand in his hip.

Eddie tucks his hands in his armpits. He spends too long looking between Dustin and Steve. He really doesn't want to do this. He really really doesn't want to do this, but he also doesn't want to be put in the same league as fucking Jason. Frustrated that he’s backed into a corner for the second time today, Eddie wets his lips with his tongue.

“Fine, fine. We’ve been flirting. Last week we made out a little- the night you guys watched E.T.. I was supposed to come over the next day after you were gone so we could… y’know,” Eddie gestures awkwardly with his hands.

Both Dustin and Steve let out an ew.

“Yeah, anyway. You were still there. When we were talking in their room I said that maybe it's for the better that we didn't do anything. After that… I dunno what happened exactly. They started going on about me having a sexuality crisis, which isn't what was happening. I was just worried you would be pissed at me if we did do something,” Eddie finishes explaining.

Dustin and Steve exchange a look again. Eddie hates this. He hates feeling put under a microscope. He hates that you’ve turned on him so quickly.

“You sure you weren’t… experimenting?” Steve asks, jerking his chin up at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I got experimenting out of my system a long time ago, alright? I know who and what I like.”

Steve nods and rubs his jaw in contemplation. He glances once more at Dustin who wears a troubled expression. That troubled expression is aimed directly at Eddie.

“You're both pussies,” Dustin states.

“Excuse me?” Steve scoffs.

“Not you,” Dustin rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a pussy. I tried, alright? Whenever we talk now it’s just a fucking fight,” Eddie says heatedly.

“You used me as an excuse. That’s why they think you’re full of shit. You flirt and make out then all the sudden you get concerned with what I think? It’s bullshit, Eddie. You just got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of the possibility you could have feelings!”

Eddie’s jaw sets. His hands tuck back into his armpits, now his arms apply more pressure. Acid rises in his throat. The kid is right. It’s not that he has any crazy feelings right now, but he can feel them coming. Like a sneeze building up, he can sense the oncoming rush. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak to others, the way you speak to him. Eddie knows he could catch feelings fast if given the chance. When an out was presented, he took it. It’s the feelings that make this feel messy, not your relation to Dustin.

“Can we just fucking agree that I’m not Jason?” Eddie sounds more desperate than he’d like.

“You’re not Jason, but you gotta get them to realize that,” Steve tells him.

Eddie sighs.

“I’m going inside. I’ll see you later,” he mumbles, turning on his heel.

This conversation has him exhausted. You have him exhausted. He knows he has to find a way to talk to you. Talk, not argue. Not fall down a rabbit hole of aggressive sexual tension. Right now, though, he needs to take a fucking nap.

***

The short rap on the front door startles you. You wait for a beat where you lay on the couch. Another set of three knocks. Curiously, you answer the door. When you see Eddie standing with the screen door open you go to close it again. His hand flies out and stops the door from shutting.

“Will you just let me talk?” He huffs.

“Fine,” you sigh and go back to the couch.

You don't bother checking if he’s following. The screen door creaking shut followed by the front door lets you know. He sits delicately next to you. There's a few inches of space left between your legs. Eddie fiddles with the rings that have become a permanent fixture on his left hand.

“So, talk,” you order.

“I’m not Jason, alright?”

“Cool, that it? You can see yourself out.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie snaps.

He tries to believe he made a valiant effort to stay calm. Your attitude irritates him more each time you show it. Eddie is a lot of things, patient in the face of unwarranted malice is not one of them.

“You, you’re my fucking problem.”

“Me? Henderson, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” Eddie turns your own words against you.

Your head snaps to look at him. Nostrils flaring, face red, and eyes full of contempt.

“Please, Munson, you’re beneath me. You’re pathetic,” you sneer.

Jesus Christ, there's no reason your words went straight to Eddie’s dick the way they did. How are you able to play him with more skill than he does his guitar?

“I wasn't pathetic when you were sucking my face off by the dumpster,” he counters.

“You act like I sucked your dick. It was a stupid kiss.”

“I remember you wanting to jump my bones after that stupid kiss,” Eddie mocks you.

Your fists clench in your lap. You’re about a second away from grabbing Eddie by his hair and showing him just how pathetic he is.

“Yeah, then unfortunately for you, you kept running your fucking mouth.”

“Unfortunately for me? Trust me, sweetheart, you’re the one missing out. I woulda rocked your world, anyone else woulda been ruined for you,” Eddie’s voice is condescending with a challenging edge.

You lean in slightly with narrowed eyes.

“I really doubt that.”

Eddie leans in some.

“Do you?”

You lean in even further.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eddie’s eyes flash down to your mouth before quickly moving back to your eyes.

“Maybe I should prove it to you then.”

“Now who wants to fuck so bad they look stupid?” You smirk.

“Fuck it, me,” Eddie breathes and closes the space between you.

His hands are on your face. His mouth moves furiously against yours sending shockwaves down your body. One of your hands takes hold of the back of Eddie’s hair. The other runs along his jaw until it’s circled around his neck. You force him away by tugging back on his hair and pushing forward on his throat. He looks so pretty like this with his big eyes wide as can be, all pupils. His face is flushed and his breathing is ragged. Eddie is pliant in your grasp.

“Look at you. Just as pathetic as I thought,” you coo teasingly.

“I’ll show you pathetic,” he grumbles.

In a blink, you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned above your head with one of Eddie’s strong calloused hands. He hovers over you. The heat radiating from his body soaks into your skin. The tip of his nose brushes against yours.

“You’re a real fucking brat, y’know that? Go on, admit it. Tell me you're a brat,” he hisses in your face, warm breath hitting your lips.

Your heart is pounding. Your body is heating up. Every part of you wants this so bad no matter how much you hate it.

“You’re an asshole,” you hiss back.

Eddie’s rings are cold against your jaw. His grip is punishing as he manhandles your face. He presses his forehead to yours. Those huge brown eyes are commandeering as they lock onto yours.

“Am I gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you?”

You manage to let out a taunting laugh.

“You don’t have what it takes to fuck anything out of me,” you bite.

His grip tightens making talking impossible. Eddie's mouth brushes against your ear and his hair tickles your nose.

“I’m going to fuck you until the only words you know are Eddie, please, and more,” he whispers.

You hate the shiver that runs down your spine. You hate how much he just turned you on, how much you want what he’s threatening you with. Every nerve ending is on fire. Eddie’s lips begin an assault on the soft bit of skin just below your ear. The sensation makes you squirm in delight. Eddie smiles against your neck.

“There you go, now you’re behaving. Now that you’ve finally shut the fuck up,” he taunts.

You glare at him, still unable to speak with his hand holding your face. That’s it. He’s been on you long enough. You’ve let him have control for long enough. Confusion flashes across his face when you smile. You lock your legs around Eddie’s waist. With a grunt, you launch your hips and legs up and over.

Eddie lands with an annoyed noise on his back on the carpeted floor. You straddle him, wrists free. Now you grip both his wrists next to his head. You brandish a wicked smile as he looks up at you in surprise. Clearly he wasn't expecting to be bested at that moment. Your knees dig into the carpet uncomfortably around his hips, but you ignore it. Eddie’s slightly nervous expression takes your attention off of it. You lean in to brush the tips of your noses together like he did before.

“What, big boy? Not feeling very confident anymore? You got no more to say?” you mock him quietly.

“I already said everything I need to say,” he mumbles back.

“What’s that, bitch? I didn't hear you,” your voice drips with venom.

Something in Eddie completely snaps. He swears he hears the sound of it. A deafening CRACK SNAP POP. Then whatever wild animal that has been scratching at his insides bursts free.

“Alright, I’m real fuckin’ tired of this attitude, sweetheart. Guess I’m gonna have to do somethin’ about it.”

You open your mouth to challenge him further. To berate him, degrade him. He can feel it. While it would only egg him on, only contribute to the growing erection in his pants, he won't allow it. He won't let you win control over this situation. Not this time. You’re already far too smug.

Eddie manages to rip his hands away from yours. In a blink, he’s sitting up. You place your hands flat on his chest to shove him back down, but he moves too fast. His hands are under your ass, scooping you up as he stands in a second. Instinctively, you wrap yourself around him to avoid falling. He has a firm steady grip on you, though.

“You won't be able to walk right when I’m done with you,” he growls, setting off for your bedroom.

“I just don't believe you’re good enough at sex for that,” you whisper into his ear with a smirk.

“Oh, I’ll make a believer out of you. My dick will have you meeting God and calling him by my name.”

He throws you onto your bed. The rough manhandling is something you never knew you wanted. It’s riling you up even more.

“You got condoms or are we doing this raw?” Eddie questions.

“I have condoms, but we’re doing this raw anyway,” you answer smugly.

“Is that what you think?” he taunts.

He rummages around your bedside table. There’s a decent sized box of condoms that’s about three quarters of the way empty. Admittedly, you haven't touched the box in a while. It’s from another life that ended months ago. However, when Eddie teases you about them, you find yourself lying.

“Jesus Christ, you’re more of a fucking whore than I took you for,” he holds up the box, shaking it to emphasize how empty it is.

“I like sex, and I like cumming even more. Too bad only one of those things will be happening tonight.”

Eddie takes out a condom and throws the box back in the drawer. He unbuttons his pants and kicks them off unceremoniously. You can see the imprint of his dick hardening in his tight boxers. He looks down at you with hooded lustful eyes. Soon you’re staring at his bare dick, his underwear abandoned on the floor. It bobs throbbing and red, glistening with precum.

“Get on your hands and knees. M’gonna use that big mouth of yours since you like havin’ it open so fuckin’ much,” he snaps.

You don’t know why, but you listen. Now that you’re on your bed with Eddie’s dick right there, all fight is gone. Eddie's hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes into your mouth.

“Shit,” he moans as you welcome him in with a twirl of your tongue.

He starts fucking your face slowly. You look up at him through your lashes. Eddie is watching you take him into your mouth like it's nothing. The eye contact makes you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he brushes the back of your throat.

“Never thought I’d get you to shut the fuck up,” Eddie grunts as he picks up his pace.

You try to remove your mouth. A scalding remark on the tip of your tongue. His grip on your hair tightens until it burns. His thrusts don't break.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. I plan on cumming down your throat before that loud mouth of yours starts up again.”

And fuck if that doesn't send you on a mission. Eddie doesn't even need to guide you after that, but it doesn't stop him. He refuses to relinquish control. He refuses to give you an opportunity to flip this on him. Finally, his hips stutter. Then he’s holding your head, calling out a resounding FUCK, and buries your nose in the dark hair at the base of his dick. You moan as Eddie shoots hot streams of cum down your throat. You take every last drop.

Once he’s finished, his grip on your hair loosens. You sit back on your heels. While making eye contact, you use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. It’s a move that makes Eddie’s softening dick twitch.

“You had something to say?” Eddie's voice is raspy, but still condescending.

You narrow your eyes at him. As if he wasn't just using your mouth to get off, you cross your arms petulantly.

“No, it’s okay. I don't think your fragile ego can handle it,” you shrug.

Eddie huff in disbelief.

“I just fucked my cum down your throat and your gonna call my ego fragile?”

“Seems so.”

“Just tell me what you were gonna fuckin’ say,” he orders, climbing into the bed over you.

Eddie crowding you causes you to lay back. Even in the compromising position, you smirk smugly. Eddie’s hair tickles your cheeks as he hovers over you. He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“It was nothing really… Just that Jason’s dick always managed to shut me up way faster than yours did,” you say casually, almost bored.

“Jason’s di- are you seriously bringing him up right now?”

“Why, that bother you?”

“Considering I’m about to make you meet God like we talked about, yeah a little,” Eddie’s voice is breathy.

He actually sounds a bit irritated.

“Never took you for the religious type.”

Eddie gets a wicked smile.

“‘M not, but you’re already in bed with the Devil, baby. Only one other Big Man to meet.”

“Big? Is that what you think of yourself?”

“Do you need a reminder? I’ll be happy to fuck that pretty mouth of yours again.”

Eddie leans down closer. Fuck, you want to kiss him. You don't. You won't let him know just how much you’re enjoying this. Instead you smile teasingly.

“You think my mouth is pretty?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, I hate to admit it, but… Not gonna lie, I think every part of you is unreal. Y’know, until you start talking.”

You snake your hands up Eddie’s chest. Slowly and sensually, you make your way up his shoulders. Then you skirt up and around to the back of his neck until your fingers tangle in his hair. Eddie really likes when you play with his hair. You can tell by the way his eyelids droop a little more at the contact. He almost looks like he’s about to lean down and kiss you. So, you take your chance.

Your grip tightens tenfold. Eddie’s eyes widen as you pull him back, sitting up in the process. He hisses, but doesn't complain otherwise. You glide the tip of your nose up the side of his neck until you reach his earlobe. With a smirk, you angle your head up so you can speak into his ear.

“I’m gonna use that big mouth of yours since you like having it open so fucking much,” you whisper, using his own words against him.

You swear you hear him breathe a curse. You let go of his hair, knowing he’ll follow you wherever you lead. Eddie is sure you could lead him into Mordor, up Mount Doom, and down into the lava like Sméagol. He’s sure that whatever painful obsession the ring of power imposed on Frodo, you just imposed on him. For better or worse. Eddie Munson is officially and completely captivated by you. You’re his precious.

That’s why he doesn't hesitate. He doesn't argue. He doesn't talk back. Instead he watches, waits patiently for you to settle into your pillows and peel off your shorts and underwear. Eddie happily, even eagerly, let’s you fuck his face like he did yours. You swear his tongue is magic. It’s hitting all the right spots, deft movements eliciting loud moans from you.

“Look at you. Just as pathetic as I thought,” you say as your thighs clench around Eddie’s head, your fingers digging into his scalp.

All Eddie can manage is a moan as you fill his mouth. You don't take as long as Eddie did to finish. Him using you and cumming down your throat had gotten you close enough, closer than you care to admit. You cum with a loud moan, no actual words coming out. With your fingers tangled in his hair, you pull him up. He looks dazed, drunk on your taste.

“At least your mouth is good for something,” you tell him with a slick grin.

Christ, Eddie is a goner. He’s an absolute goner. This is so so bad.

“Look at you, you’re already all fucked out and we haven't even gotten to actually fucking yet. You’re really making me miss Jason…” you sigh dramatically.

The mention of Jason again wakes Eddie up. A growl rumbles through his chest. His hand finds your wrist, applying enough pressure to get you to let go of his hair. He clambers over you, face real close to yours. There’s something hungry in his dark eyes. Something carnivorous.

“I’m gonna make sure you forget about fucking Jason,” he hisses.

“Fucking Jason is the one thing I like to remember,” you tease.

Eddie silently curses his own poorly placed fuck that gave you that opening. Hearing Jason’s name in the middle of this is seriously starting to grate his nerves.

“That’s it,” Eddie grumbles.

Before you can question him, he grabs onto your waist. With little effort he flips you onto your stomach. Your face is held sideways against your pillows. Eddie forces your hips in the air. You can feel the tip of his dick tease your entrance, causing you to twitch.

“What happened to the condom, prude?” you spit at him from your compromised position.

“The whore wanted it raw, the whore will get it raw,” he growls back.

It’s in that submissive state, Eddie’s rings digging into your scalp as he holds you down, him degrading you that you realize you’re a goner. You’re an absolute goner. This is so, so bad.

“What’re you waitin’ for then?” you question.

A loud SLAP rings out and a burning sensation spreads across your ass cheek. You gasp at the feeling.

“This is for my pleasure, whore. This isn't about you. I’ll go as fast or slow as I like.”

On the last word Eddie pushes into you. He doesn't go too fast at first. Sure, he wants to fuck you until you can't walk, but he doesn't want to hurt you. The foreplay was minimal, slow is better for now. You whine as he bottoms out. Completely stretched out and full you can do nothing but grip the sheets on either side of your head.

Slowly, Eddie begins to move. He’s so lost in the feel of you around him and his own mutterings of Jesus Christ that he doesn't register you speaking at first.

“What?” He breathes.

You cackle.

“Christ, Munson, you’re pathetic.”

There’s that word again. That fucking word. Eddie leans down, both of your damp shirts still on and sticking to each other.

“Remember what I said earlier?” he whispers into your ear.

“I remember you saying you think I’m unreal,” you mock him.

He straightens back up.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talkin’ while you still can. Soon you’ll only be able to say Eddie,” he gives a single powerful thrust earning a moan from you, “please,” another powerful thrust, “more.”

Eddie sets off on a wild chase of his second orgasm and your delirium. Admittedly, that delirium was setting in very fast. His movements are quick, strong, and fluid. You can't think of anyone else who has fucked you like this. In a way you didn't realize you’ve been craving. In a way that doesn't make you feel like an object, a subject to be studied, or a novelty. Eddie makes you feel a person who is desired, even in spite of the animosity ripe between you. He makes you feel like a whore in the best way possible.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good,” Eddie groans as you tighten around him.

He’s giving you so much already, but he was right. There are only three words you can think of right now. Only three words you think you’re capable of uttering.

“Eddie,” you moan.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

“Come again?”

“More.”

“Not sure I heard you right,” he says smugly, never breaking pace.

“Eddie, please, more,” you moan.

“Thought so.”

Eddie’s thrusts become animalistic. All the anger, frustration, name calling, and overall emotion from the rollercoaster that your relationship has been are being taken out on you. You start saying it like a mantra. Eddie, please, more. It’s a white flag, a surrender. It’s you telling him he’s won. Boy, oh, boy is it a sweet fucking sound. A sound that turns into a scream of a moan with your body tensing around him. He spills into you, hips flush against your ass. His own moans mingle with yours in the air.

You collapse onto your stomach, Eddie close behind. He stays on top of you. After a minute of catching his breath he rolls off of you. You stay on your stomach as you come back to your senses.

“You alright, Henderson?” Eddie’s voice is much softer than you’re expecting.

You turn your head to face him. He’s watching you with wide eyes. How does he manage to look so innocent after everything he just did to you?

“Yeah, Munson, I’m peachy. You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He nods, eyes never leaving you. Your eyes don't leave him. What’s the point in trying to hide staring after all that? You don't care that he is and he doesn't care that you are.

“So, you still miss fucking Jason?” Eddie asks playfully.

“Who?”

“Good,” he smiles, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“Do we still hate each other? I can't remember anymore,” you knit your eyebrows to feign confusion.

Eddie laughs. It’s a low sound that rumbled through his chest. His eyes take on a gooey quality that you fear you may get stuck in.

“I think we might like each other now. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Sounds good to me.”

***

The scent of sex is thick and heavy in the air when you wake up. Golden light streaks across your face as the sun lowers beneath the horizon. When you shift to turn over and check the time on your alarm clock, a warm weight stops you. Eddie’s arms are around you loosely, holding you against his chest. Both of you are still in only your shirts.

Carefully, you extract yourself. Eddie groans, but doesn't wake. You only bother with a new pair of underwear. Your stomach lets out a loud grumble and the hunger hits you. You take another look at Eddie’s sleeping form. The annoyance doesn't creep up at the sight of him anymore. Something else does in its place. Something you decide not to dwell on. All you know is if you’re this hungry, he’ll wake up hungry too.

Eddie wakes up to the smell of sex, bacon, eggs, and melted butter. It takes a second to get his bearings. The smell makes him think morning, but the position of the sun tells him it's evening. He crawls out of your bed and pulls his bottom layers back on. When he makes his way out to the main living area he finds you in the kitchen. You’re humming God Only Knows and pushing eggs around in a sizzling pan. Beside you is a plate of bacon and a plate of pancakes.

There’s a moment where the only thing Eddie can do is watch you. You’re bathed in the last golden rays of the evening, nothing but that baggy white muscle tank and a fresh pair of black underwear. The song isn't one he goes out of his way to listen to, but Wayne has thrown it on a few times. Enough for Eddie to recognize the Beach Boys’ tune.

“All that for you?” Eddie finally alerts you to his presence.

You jolt a little in surprise and whip around to look at Eddie. A coy smile crawls upon your face.

“Uh- no. I woke up starving and figured you would too,” you shrug.

As if on cue, Eddie’s stomach lets out a loud growl. You laugh and gesture for him to sit at the table. The whole scene feels so… domestic. If something in Eddie snapped earlier, something else is connecting now. There’s a satisfying click in his head as the sensation of things finally being on the right track sets in.

“Y’know, I didn’t peg you for a Beach Boys fan,” Eddie comments after a moment of only the sound of you scraping eggs around the pan.

You don't look at him, but Eddie swears he sees color rise to your cheeks.

“I’m not really. It… my dad used to sing that song all the time,” you explain, something close to troubled taking over your voice.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise. He’s never heard mention of Father Henderson before. Dustin only ever has complaints about your mom. Neither of you have mentioned a father until now.

“Dustin’s never mentioned-”

“He wasn't Dustin’s dad.”

You slide the scrambled eggs onto the last empty plate. Eddie watches you bring them over before grabbing a couple more plates for the two of you to eat from. Then some cutlery.

“I’m sorry if I brought up a sore subject,” he apologizes with big eyes as you sit across from him.

You begin shoveling food onto your plate.

“You didn't. I actually love talking about him, but my mom and Dustin have never really felt the same. So, I just don’t.”

“Do you want to talk about him now?”

You finally look at Eddie. Eyebrows slightly raised, eyes a tad wider than normal, and a soft smile on your lips. He wonders if it's okay to reach over and kiss you.

“His favorite song was God Only Knows by the Beach Boys, but I guess you probably figured that out.”

“Not a bad choice.”

You chuckle.

“I can't imagine you listening to the Beach Boys.”

“I don't, but Wayne does sometimes. God Only Knows is one of the only ones that doesn't make me want to rip my hair out,” he flashes you a playful smile.

“My dad would sing it whenever he was doing something boring. Laundry, dishes, but especially cooking.”

Eddie nods as he fills his own plate. There’s a couple minutes where the two of you eat in silence. Occasional voices could be heard outside, some cats, and the clinking of bottles as recycling goes out. The average soundtrack of Forest Hills.

“Can I ask what happened or is that not cool?” Eddie asks genuinely.

He really doesn't know how to navigate this conversation. He doesn't want to piss you off or upset you in general. All he knows is how he would want to be asked and, honestly, he simply wouldn't. You don’t seem as closed off on that front as he is, though.

“Pancreatic cancer. My mom ended the marriage before the cancer did, though. Said it was too much for her to handle.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Eddie suddenly felt very guilty for asking.

You just shrug.

“Where’s Dustin’s dad?”

“Who knows,” you snort, “he ran off with some woman from his job.”

“Jeez, your mom really has-”

“Poor choice in men? Yeah.”

“I was gonna say piss poor luck.”

You laugh, which loosens some of the tension that's built around the conversation. Eddie chuckles along, scarfing some food down in the process.

“We would fly kites when it was nice out. Sometimes he’d bring me to the lake where we’d fish and swim. He liked going to the library a lot, too. I basically grew up in the mystery section. A lot of that was lost when the cancer got bad, though. All of it, really. All of it except that song. No matter how bad it got, he always sang that song,” you rattle on sadly, but with a smile.

It’s been so long since you've talked about him. It feels good. Like visiting him after a long time away. Memories are nice, but there’s something special about sharing them. It’s easier to relive them. Easier to enjoy them when you get to do it with someone else. Maybe it’s just because that someone else is Eddie. You think if anyone will understand, or at the very least respect, how it feels it'd be him.

“What was his name?”

“Jack. Jack Coleman.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. He narrows his eyes and leans in, pointing his fork in an accusatory fashion.

“Wait, so, you’re not a Henderson? You’re a Coleman?” He questions.

You break out in a smile.

“Guilty.”

Eddie looks like he was struck by lightning. Like the heavens just opened up and revealed the meaning of life to him.

“Shit, wait… I do remember you!”

“No, you don't,” you shake your head, attempting to hide how mortified that sentence makes you.

“Yes, I totally do! All your friends called you Cole. You had those sick green vans,” he wears a goofy smile.

You feel heat crawl up your neck.

“You remember my vans?”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to flush bright red.

“Yeah, like I said, they were sick.”

“I still have’em somewhere. Maybe I’ll break’em out one day,” you smile.

Both of you clear your plates after that. You really were hungry. It’s an amicable silence. One that grows more uncomfortable in your chest because you know another hard conversation has to be had.

“I know you’re not Jason, by the way. I mean, I know now. Sorry I jumped to conclusions. I've been through a lot of Jasons,” you tell him softly.

Eddie offers a soft smile.

“S’alright. Would you tell me what happened there? I can't imagine you with fuckin’ Jason.”

You chuckle.

“Yeah, he asked me for help at work and then started saying all the right things. The dating pool for me in Hawkins is small. So, when he said he didn't want anyone to know I said okay. When he pretended not to know me in public I said okay. Then, one day, he was just…,” you frown at the memory of them walking down the street holding hands, “with Chrissy Cunningham. I asked him about it, but he was pissed I called his house. Called me about every derogatory name you can think of.”

Eddie could actually kill Jason. He already hated him, but now he’s actively cursing the ground the asshole walks on. How could he treat you so shitty? How could he not feel grateful he gets to be in your presence in this capacity?

“Well, I’d like to keep doing this. As public as possible. I want everyone to know I’m with someone this unreal,” he keeps his tone playful, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes.

Your heart starts pounding against your chest. Eddie is sitting across from you offering you everything you’ve ever wanted in a relationship. Someone who not only wants to be with you, but is proud to be with you. It’s almost too much.

“So, you're with me now, huh?” you tease.

“I sure am,” Eddie teases back with a wolfish grin.

“Maybe let's start with an actual date.”

“You asking me out, Hen-Coleman,” he places emphasis on getting the last name right.

A smile forms on your lips. You don't have an issue with being called a Henderson. The different last name is why so many people don't know you and Dustin are related. So, you don't correct people anymore when they call you Henderson. The reminder that you're technically only half siblings has always upset Dustin.

“Yeah, I think I am, Munson.”

“Then I expect to be picked up at seven sharp. You better have flowers and chocolates. I’m expensive to date.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Eddie helps you clean without you asking. He takes over the dishes, scooting you out of the way and instructing you to dry and put them away.

“I dunno where anything goes,” is his excuse.

Really, he just wanted to take on the more arduous task for you. A sort of repayment for making him food. The effortless kindness you've met him with after the sex you had. The angry, heated sex. Eddie finds it kinda funny how the two of you have fallen into this little exchange of kindness and good will considering how the day began.

When the dishes are all done and put away, Eddie begins awkwardly fiddling with his rings. It feels like his time with you is coming to an end. He doesn't want to overstay his welcome, but fuck does he want to stay. Just hanging out with you like this makes him feel… normal. He doesn't feel like the Freak, the drug dealer, or the fuck up. He just feels like Eddie and, for the first time, he feels like maybe that's enough.

“Is it really dumb to ask you to stay?” you ask him suddenly.

You’re standing across the small kitchen, having just put the last of the plates away. Eddie looks at you with wide, excited eyes.

“Awe, you wanna spend more time with me, Coleman?” Eddie coos teasingly.

“Alright, forget I said anything,” you roll your eyes with a smile.

Eddie lets out a laugh.

“I’ll stay until you kick me out,” he smiles back.

You don't kick him out until you have to go to work the next afternoon.

***

The next time Dustin calls to beg for permission for Hellfire to meet at your place, you agree without hesitation. The day before you work, but only until five. Eddie is waiting in his van in front of the store when you exit, a lit cigarette between his lips. You smile and hop in.

“I wasn't expecting you to pick me up,” you say as you buckle your seatbelt.

You know he had work at the record store today. Eddie takes one last drag of his cigarette and puts it out in the cup holder on his side. He’s been doing that ever since you yelled at him for flicking his butts out the window.

“Got out at four. I’m not gonna let my precious Coleman walk home if I can help it,” he shows off a goofy smile and starts to drive.

“You think I’m precious,” you coo.

“More precious than the One Ring,” he coos back.

“Okay, you've lost me.”

Eddie glances at you in disbelief.

“You have Henderson as a brother and you don't know Lord of the Rings?”

“Oh, that’s those books that read like textbooks, right?”

“Read like- Jesus Christ, I might have to rethink this whole situation,” he says to himself.

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I don’t have much time for reading. So, when I do, if it's not simple and to the point, I can't get into it.”

“Lord of the Rings is art. It’s a painting on paper.”

“Aren’t all paintings on paper?”

“Canvas,” he corrects, “you’re makin’ me feel real smart today.”

“Glad I can be of service,” you say sarcastically.

“Seriously, though. That’s like… my favorite thing other than D&D and music,” his voice is more tender, more serious.

And you, he thinks. It’s far too early to admit that. Doesn't mean he doesn't feel that way, though.

“Maybe I can give it another go,” you shrug.

Eddie throws a soft smile your way. You hold onto the warmth it fills you with for as long as you can. Eddie ends up staying the night, which isn't much of a surprise. It was clear he was expecting it because he brought his D&D bag with him. It did make setting up the next day easier since he was already there.

By the time Dustin shows up Eddie is all set up. You’re laying on the couch, Eddie is crouched beside you. His face is close to yours, a sly smile present. You’re busy giggling like a maniac at whatever he must have said. Dustin lets the screen door fall shut behind him. The sound of it slamming startles you and Eddie.

“What’s going on?” Dustin asks suspiciously.

Eddie smiles widely.

“Just telling Coleman here what’s in store for you guys today,” he says easily.

Dustin visibly stiffens. He doesn't find this situation as amusing as the two of you seem to.

“Coleman,” Dustin states, eyes set on you.

You can see the hurt. It’s been so long since you've corrected someone on your last name. You didn't think about how the sudden change might make Dustin feel rejected.

“Yeah, y’know, their last name,” Eddie eggs the conversation on, unaware of the ugly feelings bubbling up.

“I know their last name, Eddie,” Dustin snaps.

That clues Eddie into the sore nature of the subject. He glances apologetically between you and Dustin.

“Dustin, don’t be rude,” you chide.

“You two were at each other’s throats the last time I saw you together and you’re telling me not to be rude?”

“Well, we’re not at each other’s throats now. So, yeah, I am,” you begin catching Dustin’s own attitude.

You sit up, causing Eddie to stand.

“Whatever, it’s bullshit and you know it,” he rolls his eyes and throws his bag down next to the chair he usually occupies.

“Excuse me, what’s bullshit?” You question and stand up.

Eddie is watching helplessly. He can't help but feel like he incited this situation. Dustin gestures widely at the air around you and Eddie.

“You telling me what to do. You guys are friends today, but tomorrow you’ll probably be fighting again. Isn't that how it goes with you?”

Any emotion falls from your face. Your hands shake a bit. You won't let them see you break. You won't derail their night. Besides, Dustin is right. You and Eddie are good now, but you like to blow up all the good things in your life. Ever since your father died, the idea that anything good may be permanent feels more like a pipe dream. It’s easier to discard good things before good things discard you.

“Yeah, it is. I’m going to be in my room. Have fun with your campaign,” you mumble and storm past him to your room.

The door doesn't slam. It clicks shut calmly, which is scarier. Eddie rounds on Dustin.

“What the fuck is your problem, Henderson?” he demands.

“I don't have a problem.”

“You wanna talk about bullshit? What is it? Am I not good enough-”

“Eddie, you know that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Dustin takes a second. He sighs, closing his eyes, and then opening them once more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

The waver in Dustin’s voice throws Eddie off. His features soften as he looks at Dustin. Guilt washes over him. Sure, Dustin might be younger and Eddie might see him as a protege, or a younger brother, but he’s still one of Eddie’s best friends. Fuck, this was really shitty of him. He should have told Dustin he’s into you, regardless of how obvious it was. He should have told him you two have hooked up and are seeing where things go. Maybe not official, but exclusive. Instead, he acted like it didn't matter. Like it didn't matter that he’s seeing his best friend’s older sibling. Eddie runs an anxious hand over his face, stopping at his chin to hold it in thought.

“I’m really sorry, Dustin,” is all he can say in the end.

“I don't want an apology. I want an answer. I asked you so many times, Eddie. Every time you just dismissed me. I’m not stupid! And I don’t care! I’m happy for you, for both of you. I just… I just really wish you told me.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath. Dustin's words fall heavy on his shoulders. They're a weight he can tell he’ll be carrying for a while.

“I should’ve. I was afraid of what you'd think. What you’d say. It’s not an excuse, I know, but… I dunno I think this is real, man. It feels real.”

Dustin does what Eddie thought he may never do again. He hugs him. It takes Eddie a second to register, but once he does he hugs back tight. He’s hopeful when they separate.

“I think it’s great. Seriously, you both look really happy. But if you hurt them, Eddie, I’ll get Steve to beat you up.”

Eddie nods with wide eyes.

“Understood.”

“Okay, I have to go apologize,” Dustin sighs.

Eddie watches him disappear to your room. Mike and Will come strolling in. Eddie thanks whatever is out there that they showed after all that.

***

“So, we’ve been doin’ this a while now,” Eddie says, head lolling over to look at you.

You’re in your bed, fully clothed. These nights are Eddie’s favorite. Together in bed for the sake of being together in bed and nothing else. Eddie’s hair is splayed out behind him. The singular telephone pole light outside exposes the blush on his cheeks. It makes you smile. You like that you do that to him.

“I s’pose we have,” your voice is soft and quiet.

“D’you maybe wanna make this an official thing?”

He looks shy, nervous. It’s adorable.

“I’d love to be an official thing with you.”

“Metal,” he breathes with a smile.

You chuckle and press a joyful kiss on his lips. When you pull away Eddie can tell you have an idea. Your smile gets this funny little quirk when you get an idea.

“Since we’re an official thing, I guess you should formally meet my father,” you try to sound serious.

Pure confusion crosses Eddie’s face. You gesture to the set up on your dresser. A small urn and some photos. Understanding and then mischief lights up his face. He hops out of bed and stands before the dresser.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Eddie says and bows as if addressing a king.

You let out a little laugh. Then he’s staring tenderly at the photos. One from your third birthday. You're on your father’s lap covered in cake. Another is from one of the times he took you fishing. You’re around six in that particular photo. The final photo shows you at eight. Your father looks so much older despite it only being a few years. He’s paler, thinner, and more tired looking. You’re tucked into bed with him, asleep. Eddie can only assume it's the last photo you took with him.

“You were a cute kid,” he comments adoringly and jumps back into bed.

“What, I’m not cute now?” you tease.

“No, you're unreal now, remember,” he smiles.

You chuckle.

“You’re unreal too, Munson.”

One thing’s for sure, Eddie was right. This official thing is definitely real and it’s definitely it for both of you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic

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