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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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Where The Heart Is, Part 2 - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: After meeting Eddie over Thanksgiving break, the two of you only want to become closer with one another. You can read part one here.

Note: The response I got to the first part of this truly blew me away. I never expected so many people to leave comments or send me messages, and I just want you all to know how much it means to me. I wasn’t sure if I would continue it or not, because part of me liked where I ended it, but after so many requests, I decided to go further with these two. I have to thank @munson-blurbs for helping me the many times I got writer’s block!

Warnings: phone sex, smut, p in v, oral f! receiving, mentions of trauma, mentions of bad family life, general upside down-related unpleasantness

Words: 17.9k (Whoa.)

[Part 3 | Where The Heart Is masterlist]

The first thing you do when you see your roommate walk into your dorm after returning from Thanksgiving break is tell her to not ignore the phone if it rings. She gives you a funny look, like you’re weird for assuming she’d ignore it at all. But you know her, and if she doesn’t feel like doing something, she won’t. That includes answering the phone.

“Who’s calling you?” she asks. Shelby has a talent for making basic questions sound like insults. Though you have to concede that it is true that no one has ever called you before.

“His name is Eddie.”

Suddenly, she’s interested.

“A boy?” she asks, yet again making it sound like an offensive question.

“Yeah, a boy,” you say. You’re putting the last of your clothes away that you’d brought with you to Hawkins and with each piece you touch, a memory of what you did in it comes to mind. A smile grows on your lips as you pick up the blue sweater you wore when you met Eddie. The soft material gets a small squeeze in your hand before you hang it up.

“You met a guy in Iowa?” Shelby asks as she tosses her suitcase on her bed.

“Indiana,” you correct her. “Yeah, one of Nancy’s friends.”

“And he’s going to call you?”

“Yes,” you say as you roll your eyes, head in your closet. “We really hit it off.”

“Huh,” Shelby muses and you have the urge to strangle her with the pair of tights you just picked up.

Luckily, Shelby decides to stay with her boyfriend in his room for the night, so you can rest from your trip in peace. When the night passes by without Eddie calling, you’re a little disappointed, but also understand because you just saw him this morning. Maybe you were becoming a little obsessed. You sprawl out flat on your back on your bed and stare up at the ceiling. Why is this how it goes? You don’t have feelings for a guy in what feels like forever, then you get hit harder than you could’ve ever possibly imagined you could fall for someone. Thoughts start spinning around your head too loudly for you to possibly get some sleep, so you grab your Walkman from your desk and settle in under your blankets. When you press play, the sound of Queen fills your ears, and you end up falling asleep with an easy smile on your lips.

Alarm startling you awake, noise no longer coming from your headphones since the tape had finished during the night, you jump and clutch at your sheets. Letting the adrenaline that’s surging through your veins abate, you lay back and throw an arm over your eyes. Afraid of falling back to sleep, you push yourself up and start to get ready. You take care to layer up, knowing the biting cold waiting for you once you step outside. Though your black coat looks good when you inspect yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but think Eddie’s leather jacket would look even better.

A gentle snow falls down as you step out of your dorm building, but the harsh wind blows the flakes so fast they sting as they hit your face. You pull your scarf up over your mouth and nose as you make the trek to the English building. As far as early morning Monday classes go, there were far worse ones to have than English.

You’ve finished reading the book you were assigned for the class far ahead of schedule, so the discussion doesn’t hold your attention since everyone is behind you and discussing plot points you already know the resolutions to. Your mind drifts and starts with pleasant thoughts of Eddie, but eventually your own insecurities chime in and make you wonder if he meant it at all when he said he’d call you. Were you dumb for believing him? Did he just want to have a girl to make out with over Thanksgiving and you’d fit the bill?

It’s still going through your mind when you join Nancy for lunch before your last class of the day, which you share with your friend.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask as you sit down across from her in the dining hall.

“You know you can.” She shoots you a smile before taking a bite of her sandwich.

You scratch your nail across your napkin, watching your finger leave holes in its wake. It’s easier for you not to meet her eyes as you speak.

“Did Eddie really like me? Or was I being dumb?”

Nancy stops chewing and lets her sandwich fall back to the plate.

“What? Are you kidding me?”

Your eyes glance up at her before looking into your cup of soda.

“I mean, like, does he treat all girls like this? Am I stupid for thinking I’m special?”

“Look at me.” When you don’t, she reaches over and taps your wrist. “Look. At. Me.” You tilt your head up and meet her eyes. She looks like she wants to throttle you and it makes you shrink under her gaze. “You really think I’d play a part in something that wasn’t real? You think I’d just let him come over in the middle of the night or that I wouldn’t stop him from flirting with you so much if I knew he was just treating you like he treats other girls?”

Shame fills you as you drop your eyes and shake your head. You hadn’t thought about it that way, caught up in your own head and your own insecurities. But Nancy was nothing if not a good friend and she deserved better than to be thought of like that.

“I’m sorry, Nancy, it’s not what I meant,” you say. “You’re right, you would never do anything like that. Ever. I guess I’m just second guessing myself now that I’m back in reality. It kind of feels like Eddie was just some dream I came up with.”

Nancy sighs and picks her sandwich up again. She takes another bite and swallows it before she speaks.

“I get it,” she says. “When I first came here and left Steve back home, I had a hundred negative thoughts running through my mind. And we’ve got years of history and I know you and Eddie only had a few days. Look, I know I told you that I’ve never seen you the way I saw you with Eddie. But I guess I didn’t tell you that I’ve never seen him like that either. Now, to be fair, I haven’t known him well for very long. But when you go through the kind of shit we went through together you do get to know someone well quickly. And as for other girls? I’ve never even heard him talk about a girl before.”

“Oh, come on,” you say with a little laugh. “Look at him. Like he’s never had a girl before?”

“I never said he never had a girl,” Nancy says, shaking her head. “But I’ve never heard him talk about one before. And Eddie is not the kind of guy to play girls. If he tells you he cares about you, he means it. He’s very sincere. Too honest sometimes, if I'm being truthful.”

The smile that comes to your face is involuntary and you try to hide it by taking a sip of your drink. Nancy sees it anyway, but decides not to comment on it, but smiles to herself. You go to take a bite of your mashed potatoes but have to ask one more question first.

“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you? Getting so attached so quickly?”

Nancy shakes her head as she swallows the bite of food currently in her mouth.

“You’re not crazy at all. If you two were talking about going off to Vegas and eloping, I’d be worried. But giving him your phone number? Hardly something drastic to do when you like a guy.”

“I feel crazy,” you admit with a laugh. You drop your fork and rub your hands over your face.

“It is kind of fun for me.” Your friend smirks at you and raises an eyebrow. “Seeing you all riled up like this. So unlike you.”

“It’s why I feel crazy!”

Nancy laughs. “Oh, you’re fine.”

The first day back to classes wears you out. You drag yourself back to your dorm after dinner and collapse on your bed. The winter sun setting earlier in the day makes you want to curl up in bed and call it a night. But your clock tells you it’s only a little after seven.

“I don’t want to be productive,” you mumble into your pillow.

You kick your boots off and force yourself up to switch your things out of your backpack for your classes tomorrow. If you went to bed without doing it, you know you’d end up forgetting in the morning. Luckily, Shelby hasn’t come back to your room so far, but you know it’s only a matter of time.

The phone rings and your textbook slips out of your hand, landing on the tile floor with a loud thud. You trip over it on the way to the shelf between your and Shelby’s beds, snatching the phone up.

“Hello?” you ask.

“Hey.”

Your body practically drops to the floor in relief, grinning to yourself as you sit with your back against the wall and tuck your legs up against your body.

“You sound scared,” you say with a giggle.

Eddie laughs and the sound sends butterflies throughout your body.

“I was scared I was going to get the bitchy roommate!”

“Just me, unfortunately.”

“Bite your tongue,” he says. “You’re the only person I’ve wanted to talk to since we said goodbye at the airport.”

If Shelby were there, she would make fun of you for the rest of the semester for the dopey grin on your face.

“Actually,” Eddie admits, and his voice has gotten quieter. “I wanted to call you last night, but I thought that’d be kind of clingy of me.”

“Honestly? When I was lying in bed last night, I wished you would call.”

“Aw shit, sweetheart,” Eddie says. “You sound just about as lovesick as I am.”

“Lovesick,” you repeat. “That’s a good word for it.”

You hear a breath of laughter on the other end of the line, and you close your eyes to picture what him laughing looks like. His eyes crinkle in the corners and all his bright teeth gleam in happiness.

“How was your first day back?” he asks.

“Exhausting,” you say. “But it’s much better now.”

Eddie groans and the sound should worry you, but it sends heat running south in your body instead.

“You talk all sweet like that and I’m gonna miss you even more,” he says.

Your socked feet tap up and down on the floor in glee and you wrap your arm around your knees.

“Harder to miss me if you’re talking to me,” you say.

“I’m closing my eyes and pretending you’re here next to me.”

“Eddie,” you say with a dreamy sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Me? Be the death of you?” He sounds exasperated by the very idea.

“I said what I said.”

Eddie laughs and it solidifies itself as your official favorite sound in the world.

“Do I sound too desperate if I say I want to call you every night?” Eddie asks.

“No more desperate than me,” you say. “But you should go out and have fun with your friends, too.”

“Yeah, I s’pose the Hellfire guys would be kind of pissed if I just stopped showing up,” he says.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “As much as I want to steal you, I don’t think that’d be very fair.”

“Oh princess, you have my full permission to steal me anytime you want to.”

The nickname quickens your heart rate and a buzz tingles down your limbs.

The doorknob to your room turns and you must let out a groan because Eddie asks you what’s wrong.

“Bitch incoming,” you whisper just before the door opens.

Shelby strolls in and gives you a dirty look for sitting on the floor. You choose to ignore her and close your eyes to focus on your conversation.

“Tell her I said she better be nice to you,” Eddie says.

“I don’t think that would work,” you answer.

“Have Nancy kick her ass.”

You laugh and rest your forehead down on your knees.

“She’s tiny but she definitely could,” you say.

“I have homework to do,” Shelby says as she slams a textbook down on her desk.

Eddie must be able to hear her because he scoffs in your ear.

“What crawled up her ass and died?” he asks.

“I can think of a lot of things,” you mumble, and it makes him laugh.

“I don’t want to cause any problems,” Eddie says. “How about I call you tomorrow night, hmm? I get off work at six - uh, that’s seven there. So, I’ll call when I get home?”

“Promise?” you ask.

“Cross my heart, gorgeous.”

“Okay,” you say. “I guess I’ll talk to you then.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

During the next phone call, you make sure to get Eddie’s number so the burden doesn’t always fall on him to call. But no matter who is calling who, you manage to talk to each other at least four days a week. It’s usually more, but sometimes it’s not as often as you’d both like because Eddie has Hellfire or you have a meeting with your baking club, which Nancy had encouraged you to join earlier in the semester. You’d always enjoyed baking, but never got a chance to properly try it out, but with her encouragement, you signed up.

A week to go before Christmas break, Shelby has thankfully gone to spend the night with her boyfriend again, so you have the room to yourself the whole night to talk with Eddie. There hasn’t been a Friday night you’ve both been able to stay up late together since Eddie’s had to work Saturday mornings the last few weeks. Most students from your floor were out at bars, clubs, or somewhere else you wouldn’t want to be caught dead at, but you knew for a fact that Nancy was in the same position as you - curled up in your bed, wearing your comfiest clothes - and talking to her boyfriend at the other end of the hall.

“Okay,” Eddie says once you’ve been on the phone for a little over two hours. “There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Alright,” you say, tugging your blanket up to your chin in the cool dorm. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Eddie starts. There’s a hitch in his voice and you realize this is the first time you’ve heard him sound a little nervous. “You can totally say no. I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you or trying to make you feel like you have to, o-or…”

“Eddie,” you cut him off with a laugh. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath and your tummy buzzes in anticipation.

“I was wondering if you’d want to come visit for Christmas, maybe?” His voice kept getting higher the further along in the question he got.

“Oh, Eddie, I’d love to,” you say. The smile on your face is so wide it’s hurting your cheeks. “But I don’t want to just assume I’m welcome back at Nancy’s house.”

“Oh, no, no!” Eddie says. “I meant like…do you want to come stay with me?”

The breath catches in your chest and your mouth freezes, unable to form words. Somehow, the breath dislodges itself and you huff what sounds like between a sigh and a laugh.

“You want me to come stay with you?” you ask.

“I sure do.” He says it with such confidence that it makes your eyes water. “Wayne wants to meet you real bad. He said he’s heard enough about you that he feels like he knows you already.”

“Aww, do you talk about me?” you can’t help but tease him despite the strong stinging blush on your cheeks.

“Every chance I get,” Eddie says.

“You really are the sweetest,” you say with a content sigh.

“Does that mean you’ll come?” he asks, voice hiking up in hopefulness.

“Well, I have to go home to see my niece, but I’m seeing her next week,” you say.

“You’re leaving on Friday, right?” Eddie double checks. “Right after your last exam?”

“I am,” you say. Your eyes scan around your dorm room, half packed up with things you’re taking back with you to New Hampshire next week. “And I’m seeing my sister and niece on Tuesday and Wednesday. But after that? If you really want me to, I’d love to come for Christmas.”

“Oh, thank God,” Eddie lets out in a rush. “Because I miss you so much.”

You grin to yourself and curl up on your side.

“I miss you too,” you tell him quietly.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, and there’s an edge to his voice that sends a shiver up your spine.

“Yeah,” you say, voice going lower.

“Mmm,” Eddie hums and your thighs clench together at the sound. “How much?”

“So much,” you tell him as you roll onto your back. “So much it hurts.”

“Hurts where, baby?” The pitch of his voice lowering makes you bite your lip and slide a hand down your chest. God, you hope this is going where you think it’s going.

“My heart,” you start off. “And…other places.”

Eddie’s groan gives you the last hint of motivation you need to slip your hand down your sweatpants.

“What places, baby?”

The nickname has you slipping your hand into your panties as well.

“Gonna make me say it?” you ask, breath becoming labored. There’s material rustling on the other end of the phone and the thought of Eddie in the same position as you has you arching your back.

“Mhmm,” Eddie hums, his own breaths coming quicker. “Wanna hear you.”

“Fuck,” you moan out softly as you start to slide your fingers through your folds. You’d touched yourself countless times since coming home from Indiana, but never while talking to Eddie.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Eddie asks. His voice is rough and ragged, and it only makes you wetter.

“Got my hand down my panties,” you tell him, cheeks burning at the admission.

He lets out a moan as your middle finger rubs right over your clit, the combination leading you to moan out as well.

“What’re y-you doing?” you ask once you’ve slightly recovered.

“Dick in my hand,” Eddie stutters out.

“Wish I was there to see,” you tell him, and he chokes on a laugh.

“Fuck, me too, baby,” he says. “What else would you do if you were here?”

The nastiest thoughts flash through your mind and, surprisingly, you don’t feel the need to hide them from Eddie. He makes you feel at ease, even stepping out of your comfort zone like this.

“Shit, I’d lick you from base to tip.” The small noises coming from the back of Eddie’s throat encourage you. “I’m not sure how good of a gag reflex I have but I’d let you test that out on me as much as you’d like. Over and over. And I’d swallow every last drop you gave me. Fuck, bet you have a pretty dick.”

“Not as pretty as your pussy must be, baby,” he answers.

You bite your lip and let out a whimper. The sound of Eddie’s slick hand working over himself comes through the phone and you slip a finger inside of yourself.

“Bet you taste fucking perfect, too,” Eddie adds, and your hips canter off the mattress.

“What would you do if I was there?” you ask. “Taste me?”

“Oh, fuck, yes. Shit, I’d devour you like you were my last meal. How would you want me to touch you, baby? Tell me.”

“Everywhere,” you whine out with a pathetic moan. “I want your hands all over my body. Maybe squeeze at my tits as you go down on me. Would you like that?”

The growl you get in response tells you that he would.

“Hell yes, baby. Shit. Bet you’re so tight. First, so tight around my tongue and fingers. Then my cock. Squeezing me so well. Like a good fucking girl.”

“God, you’re killing me,” you say with a breathy laugh, working your middle finger in and out of your pussy.

“Feeling’s mutual, princess,” Eddie groans out. “Rub your clit for me, baby?”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slip your finger out of your drenched core and run it over your clit, applying the perfect pressure as you rub back and forth.

“I-I am,” you whimper.

The sounds of Eddie’s heavy breaths and fist gliding over his cock keep you company as you work yourself closer to the edge. Sweat is making your sweatshirt stick to your stomach and rub against your sensitive nipples, but you can’t bring yourself to take your other hand off the phone to take it off. Eddie’s sounds are addicting, and you don’t want to miss a second of them.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close,” Eddie whines.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” he says. “Was half hard the moment I heard your voice.”

His words make you moan and rub tighter circles over your throbbing clit.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“Gonna make me cum even faster, gorgeous,” he says.

“Do it,” you sigh out. “Want to cum with you.”

“Close, princess?”

“Uh huh.”

“Come on, baby,” Eddie says. “Fuck, can’t wait to do this in person.”

“Shit, Eddie,” you cry out at his words. “M’gonna cum.”

“Let go, sweetheart,” he moans.

You cry out as your back arches off the bed, orgasm overtaking you. Eddie’s groan and whimper from the other end of the phone lets you know he’s cumming too, and the image has you rubbing your clit even quicker to milk your orgasm out.

Breaths coming out in heavy pants, your body collapses back against the bed. You giggle to yourself when you hear Eddie breathing the same way that you are.

“Still with me?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Eddie says between breaths. “Fuck, that was good.”

“Oh yeah,” you agree. Using the back of your wrist, you wipe some sweat off your forehead as you cuddle back against your pillow. “Now, what was that about doing this in person?”

“Huh?” Eddie asks, breath and voice slowly returning to normal. “Shit, I didn’t mean to-.”

“Eddie!” You laugh as he starts to ramble. “I was going to say I was looking forward to it.”

“Oh.” Relief is evident in his voice. He lets out an awkward chuckle and you can hear fabric rustling from his end. You imagine him tucking himself back in his pants and you lick over your lips. “Well, I mean, we don’t have a guest room. So, if you’re gonna be staying here you’ve only got the one option.”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and you close your eyes to picture it. His hair is probably all messy over his pillow with sweat making a few pieces stick to his forehead.

“Slumber party, huh?”

“Only if you want, baby,” Eddie says. “I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

“I know that,” you assure him. “I guess I should tell you something, though.”

“Anything, sweetheart. You know that.”

After what the two of you just did together you should not be feeling nervous with him. But you can’t help it as your thumb comes up to your mouth and you gnash your teeth against the corner of your nail.

“What we just did is the farthest I’ve ever gone,” you tell him. “I’m a virgin, Eddie.”

“Oh, is that all?” Eddie says and you feel your heart relax.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you get out in a rush. “Just can be a weird topic to talk about.”

“That’s true,” Eddie says. “So, it’s good you brought it up, because now I can tell you that I’m a virgin too.”

“Really?” you say before thinking better of it. You squeeze your eyes closed because you can’t imagine how that must’ve sounded. “I-I just mean I’m surprised because you’re like…ridiculously hot. And I have a hard time believing girls wouldn’t throw themselves at you. Especially at your shows.”

Eddie laughs and it’s both genuine and self-deprecating.

“You flatter me, baby,” he says. “But our shows usually consisted of an audience of half a dozen barflies until I met Nancy and the crew.”

“No groupies?” you ask.

“Not a one.”

“Well,” you say with a shrug, even though Eddie can’t see you. “I’d be happy to be a Corroded Coffin groupie.”

“Is that so?” he muses.

“Please, sir?” You bite your lip at the blush clinging to your face as you utter the words.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans and it turns into a chuckle. “You say shit like that we’re going to have to go another round.”

“Isn’t my job as a groupie to tease you?” The innocent tone of your voice isn’t lost on you nor Eddie.

“You’re really good at it already.”

Giggling, you sit up in your bed and hug your knees to your chest.

“Not to change the subject, but I’m going to before I get distracted too,” you say. “If I’m going to be there for Christmas, I’m going to have to get on buying a present for my secret Santa. Think you could give me a few ideas?”

“Sure thing, princess,” Eddie says. “Who’d you get?”

“Max,” you tell him.

“Oh, Red’s pretty easy. She likes comics, especially Wonder Woman. She skateboards. Uh, what else? Big Kate Bush fan.”

“What about clothes?” you ask. “Jewelry?”

“Shit, I wouldn’t be able to help you out with those. She doesn’t really wear jewelry and I couldn’t even tell you what kind of clothes she wears, really. Never paid attention.”

“Hmm, okay,” you hum as you slip your feet further under your blankets. “I’ll keep all that in mind. Now, who’d you get?”

“Robin,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I have no clue what to get her.”

“If you’re still stuck when I get there, we could always go shopping together?”

“I am the worst shopper in the history of the world,” Eddie groans. “I’d love to have you with me. I’ll hold your hand and buy you hot chocolate.”

You duck your head with a bashful laugh.

“Sold.”

Finals week was always hell, but you had to admit, the thought of seeing Eddie soon helped ease the pain a bit. You and Nancy spent most evenings held up in whoever’s room was free of its roommate, pouring over notes, shuffling flash cards, and quizzing each other back and forth. It pays off, the both of you feeling pretty confident once all tests are said and done.

Nancy gives you a hug and tells you she’ll see you in a week before she catches her ride to the airport. Unfortunately, Shelby wasn’t leaving for break until the day after you, so you were forced to share the room until you’re able to get in your car and go.

Once you do though, you realize it wasn’t really anything to look forward to. You’d either be arriving at an empty apartment, or one where your mother was. You’re not sure which is worse. Just as you’re about to pull your car onto the highway and out of Boston though, a store catches your eye, and you make a U-turn to get a closer look.

You park your car and smile to yourself as you see the custom skateboards on display in the windows. Inside the store, the boards are even nicer. The decks are all hand painted, the clerk tells you, and you’re amazed at the talent as you take in all the vibrant and beautiful works. One in particular catches your eye and you know you’ve found the right present.

The apartment is silent when you arrive home. The only noises are from the surrounding tenant’s homes. There’s Christmas music playing somewhere a few doors down and someone on the floor above you has their shower running. The smell of stale air wafts through the rooms and you wonder when the last time your mom cracked a window was.

You drag your suitcase to your small room in the corner of the apartment and flop down on your twin-sized bed. It smells just as stale as the air, so you get up and decide to throw your blankets and some clothes from your closet into the laundry.

It’s well after dark when your mom arrives home, and if you were expecting to be greeted with excitement, you were wrong. Luckily, experience had taught you not to hold your breath on that. A hug hello, some vague questions about school, then she’s off to bed. Not that you mind at all. In fact, you decide to get comfortable in your bed of clean sheets and try to get some sleep yourself. Burying your face in your pillow, you inhale the clean scent of the detergent you used. It’s a nice smell, but it gives you an even better idea. You roll onto your back and smile to yourself as you stare up at the ceiling. Eddie may not be your boyfriend, but you doubt he’d care if you borrowed a t-shirt or sweatshirt to bring back with you when school starts again. The thought of having something you could hold in your dorm bed that belongs to Eddie, his scent all over it, makes you giddy, and you let out a short giggle into the dark room.

The day you get to spend with your niece is by far the best day you have at home in New Hampshire. She’s the sweetest seven-year-old you’ve ever met in your life and the fact that she adores you warms your heart. Chloe is by far your favorite relative, even though that wasn’t a very high bar to begin with. The princess dress you gave her lit up her face in a way that brought tears to your eyes. Her hug was bone-crushing for such a small child, and you took advantage of every second of it. The only reason you don’t cry as you say goodbye to her and your sister is because you know you’re seeing Eddie very soon.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Chloe had asked you as you tossed your bag into your car. You sat down sideways in the driver’s seat and pulled her over to hold her tiny hands in your own.

“I’m going to see a friend for Christmas,” you told her.

“Who?”

“His name is Eddie.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” Her face wrinkled up in an adorable and excited seven-year-old fashion. It made you laugh, and you pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Maybe.” He wasn’t technically, but you weren’t about to explain the complexities to her. Plus, after your upcoming trip, he might be.

The escalator leading down to the baggage claim level in the Indianapolis airport moves far too slowly for your liking. Everyone else seems content with the pace, but you’re practically buzzing with nervous energy. The family in front of you can’t move fast enough out of your way as they step off, leaving you irritated as you try to navigate your way around them. You manage to get clear of the crowd without smacking anyone with your backpack and make your way over to where Eddie will be waiting.

“Excuse me, miss,” you hear from behind you. “But I can’t help but notice how devastatingly gorgeous you are.” The smile on your face as you turn around at the familiar voice is so wide it feels like it’s going to fall off your face. “Do you think I could interest you in spending Christmas with me?”

Eddie’s grin matches your own and you fling yourself in his arms. He catches you with a joyful laugh, managing to slip his hands under your backpack so he can lift you up. A squeal leaves your lips as you wrap your legs around his adorably tiny waist, and the two of you squeeze one another so hard you’re surprised you don’t meld into one body.

“I missed you so much,” Eddie mumbles into your hair.

“I missed you, too,” you say. You pull back to look at him, infectious grin still on his face as he holds you. Taking his face between your hands, you press a firm kiss on his lips. He chuckles against your mouth, and you press a few more quick pecks to his lips before you unwrap your legs from his body. He sets you down and you bounce up and down on the balls of your feet.

“How are you even more beautiful than I remember?” Eddie asks as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I guess the same way that you’re even more handsome than I remember,” you answer.

Eddie rests his forehead against yours and gives your lips one more peck. He slips his hand into yours and you lace your fingers together.

“Let's go get your bag,” Eddie says.

Gentlemanly as ever, Eddie carries your bags to his van and loads them in the back. Before he lets you get in though, he takes advantage of the empty parking garage around you and gently presses you up against the passenger door. The devilish smirk he sends you makes your tummy buzz and your toes curl in your boots. He leans in and presses his lips against yours in a searing kiss, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your arms come up to wind around his neck, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. His tongue licks across your top lip and you gladly open them to him. The van is cold against your back, but Eddie’s warming you up plenty. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing up against the soft material of your coat. You never knew a gray concrete parking garage could be so romantic.

On the ride to Eddie’s, neither of you shuts up. If someone had told you that you’d meet someone who you would talk to on the phone for hours at a time multiple days a week, but still find things to talk about all the time, you wouldn’t have believed them. But there were never silences, let alone awkward ones, with Eddie. As you got closer to his place you actually had a twenty-minute conversation about the shoes Eddie was wearing.

“Shit, I forgot to ask you,” Eddie says, suddenly seeming a little nervous. “Nancy and Steve want to have lunch with us tomorrow afternoon. That okay with you?”

“Of course,” you tell him. He doesn’t seem relaxed by your answer, so you reach over and put your hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a nod, but you’re not convinced.

“What, are you nervous to go on a double date?” you ask with a chuckle.

He smiles over at you and reaches up to grab the hand you placed on him. He gives it a squeeze before putting it back on the wheel.

“Never nervous to spend time with you, baby. Oh, I should tell you,” Eddie says as you drive past the sign welcoming you to Hawkins. “Wayne took the night off from work tonight. He wants to have dinner with you, it being your first day here and all.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” you say, smiling over at him.

“It’ll probably be pizza, nothing fancy,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Pizza is better than fancy every time, Eddie. Duh,” you say. “I’m kind of nervous to meet your uncle though, to be honest.”

Eddie lets out a laugh and shakes his head.

“Nervous to meet Wayne? Oh sweetheart, trust me, nothing to be nervous about. He likes to act like a hardass with me, but he’s a teddy bear deep down.”

“Okay,” you say, and take a deep breath.

Eddie’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

“It does mean though…” he trails off and you look at him in concern.

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I mean, with Wayne there I don’t really think we should, ya know-.”

You cut him off with a laugh and shake your head.

“Eddie, baby,” you say, and you notice him flush at the nickname. “I’m going to be here for a while. We have plenty of time for all that fun stuff. A lot of it.”

Eddie groans and gently bangs his head against his headrest.

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” he says through a chuckle.

“Oh yeah?” Your voice hikes up at the end and Eddie clocks the way you adjust your crossed legs, thighs squeezing closer together.

“Been half hard since I saw you,” he admits, cheeks turning even darker.

“I mean, I could help you with that,” you say, cheeks flaming red yourself.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” You blush even redder at how quickly you replied. “You’ll need to tell me what to do, though. Like, h-how you like it. I’ve never done this before.”

“Shit, baby,” Eddie says, and you squeeze your legs together even tighter at the endearment. “I doubt you could do anything I wouldn’t like. But yeah, I’ll talk you through it.”

Eddie pulls the van up to a red light and you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over closer to him. Your hand goes to reach for his zipper when the van is jerked from behind. Eddie immediately reaches out to grab you since you’re not wearing your seatbelt, and he curses under his breath as the vehicle gently rocks back and forth from the hit.

“Someone hit the van?” You’re almost positive that’s what happened, but your head was a bit dazed from thoughts of what you were about to do.

“Yeah,” Eddie says as he puts the van in park. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say as you get back in your seat. “Are you?”

“Fine. Just pissed.” Eddie sighs before he opens the driver’s door. “I’ll be right back. You stay nice and warm in here, princess.”

Eddie slams the door behind him and after a few moments you hear him yell, “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You open the passenger side door and hop out, closing it behind you and heading to the back of the van to see what was wrong. You’re expecting horrible damage, injured people, or Eddie getting ready to kick someone’s ass. But what you see makes you laugh, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the sound.

The curly-haired boy you met last month, Dustin, is getting out of the car behind the van, a grimace on his face, looking paler than you remember. An older man gets out of the passenger side with a clipboard and your eyes trail to the top of the car where there’s a red sign that says, “Student Driver.”

“Shit, Eddie,” Dustin says. “I’m so sorry. I got excited when I saw your van and then I forgot which pedal was which and I just…oh!”

Dustin sees you and grins. You chuckle and send him a small wave, but Eddie is still glaring at him.

“Are you okay?” the driving instructor asks.

“Fine,” Eddie says, eyes not leaving Dustin. The boy shrinks under his gaze.

“Are you okay, Dustin?” you ask.

“I’m fine.”

“For now,” Eddie growls out.

You inspect the back of the van, but you don’t see a single scratch. Dustin’s lucky. Whoever pays his bills is lucky too because you doubt the driving school would have taken any damage lightly.

“Should we call the police?” the instructor asks but Eddie waves him off.

“It’s fine,” Eddie says. He puts his hands on his hips and sighs. You walk over to him and put your hand on his back, rubbing gently, and it seems to calm him.

“I’m so sorry,” Dustin says but Eddie shakes his head at the boy.

“He’ll forgive you,” you assure Dustin. “He’s just a little worked up.”

How you manage not to smirk at your double entendre, you don’t know. Eddie huffs out a chuckle though and nods his head.

“Everyone’s okay,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Plus, I know you’ll make it up to me, Henderson.”

“How?” Dustin asks.

“That’s up to you,” Eddie calls to him as he turns back towards the van, slinging his arm over your shoulders. You giggle and bury your head in Eddie’s neck as he walks you back to your door.

“Bye, Dustin!” you shout as Eddie opens the passenger door for you.

The echo of Dustin’s responding goodbye is cut off when Eddie shuts the door. He climbs in the driver’s side and lets out a mixture of a groan and a sigh as he puts the car in drive.

“I love him,” you tell Eddie as he continues down the road.

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Eddie says, but there’s a fond smile on his face.

There’s a sign that comes into view that announces Forest Hills trailer park is half a mile up the road. Despite Eddie’s reassurance earlier, you start to feel the knot of anxiety in your stomach again. The only family in Eddie’s life is Wayne, so what would happen if he didn’t like you? A large hand comes over to cover yours and you realize you have been fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. Eddie’s thumb rubs over your hand and you shoot him a grateful smile.

Eddie pulls the van into the trailer park, and you look around, taking in his neighborhood.

“It’s a trailer park,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Not much to look at.”

“This is where you live. What you see every day,” you say. “I’m interested.”

He smiles to himself as you crane your neck to take in everything. Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever had someone interested in his life like this before. Certainly there wasn’t anyone who was ever nervous about meeting his uncle. The thought of someone being nervous to meet Wayne was truly hilarious to him.

The van parks in front of the trailer and Eddie’s stomach drops as he sees you frown at the small dwelling. You’d known all along he lives in a trailer, but is it even worse than you imagined? Is it too small? Too dirty? Eddie licks over his lips and runs his hands over the steering wheel just to do something with his nervous energy.

“You don’t have any Christmas lights up,” you say, turning to face him.

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief and a smile comes to his face.

“I guess we don’t,” he says. “I don’t think we own any, actually.”

He lets out a laugh at your affronted face and leans over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he says.

“Don’t try to sweet talk your way out of decorations, mister.” But you can’t help but smile at his actions.

“How about we go to the store tomorrow? You can pick out what you think looks best.”

“Wait. Are you telling me you don’t have decorations inside either?”

“We do not.”

“What about a tree?”

Eddie grimaces and your jaw drops open.

“Eddie! No tree?”

“Okay, I was planning on getting one,” he says, holding his hands up in defense. “Just haven’t yet. I usually pick up whatever’s left on the lot a few days before Christmas.”

“So, a Charlie Brown Christmas tree?” you ask.

“Pretty much,” he says. “Now come on. Let’s get inside where I can show you my room.”

You laugh as Eddie wiggles his eyebrows at you. He throws you a wink before he hops out and opens the back door to get your bags. Following him over to the steps, you rub your hands up and down your arms, partially out of coldness and partially out of nerves. Since his hands are full, you reach around and turn the doorknob for him, and he knocks the door all the way open with his hip. Eddie sets your bags down just inside the door and takes your hand in his as you step inside. He closes the door behind you as you look around the living room, taking in the mugs and hats that make up the decor.

“My favorite mug is the Garfield one,” you tell Eddie.

“Got that when I was six,” he says. He lets go of your hand to wrap both of his arms around you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder and you lean back in his embrace.

“I bet you were an adorable six-year-old,” you say.

“I looked like little orphan Annie with the curls and all.”

You laugh but it dies in your throat as you hear footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Relax,” Eddie whispers in your ear, giving your waist a squeeze before stepping out from behind you.

A weathered but friendly looking man steps into the living room and the smile he gives you reminds you of Eddie’s. His blue and black flannel makes you wonder if he and Eddie ever steal each other's clothes.

“Well, you must be the young lady I’ve heard so much about.”

Both you and Eddie blush at his words.

“I guess that’s me,” you say with a shrug. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Oh, please doll, no need to be so formal. Wayne is fine. It’s great to meet you too, though.” He steps forward and offers you his hand, which you shake gladly. Eddie wraps an arm around your waist and Wayne turns his gaze on his nephew.

“What took you so long, boy?”

“Had a little fender bender,” Eddie admits with a sigh. Wayne reaches over and smacks Eddie upside the head, making you cough out a laugh. “Ow, what the hell?”

“Her first day here and you’re already getting in a car accident?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Eddie protests.

Wayne huffs and crosses his arms across his chest.

“My apologies then.” He turns to you and leans in conspiratorially. “Boy had to take his driving test three times.”

“Okay, thank you Wayne,” Eddie says, stomping down the hallway, dragging a giggling you behind him. He tugs you into a bedroom at the end of the hall and it’s instantly recognizable as his room.

You let his hand drop from yours as you walk around, taking in the small space.

“Believe it or not, I cleaned up,” Eddie says, scratching the back of his head.

“I believe you,” you say, shooting him a playful smirk that makes him roll his eyes. You stroll over to the Corroded Coffin banner hanging on the wall and Eddie sidles up beside you.

“I want to see your band play,” you say.

“We haven’t played together since Jeff went off to college.” Eddie tugs you against his side and presses a kiss into your hair. You lay your head on his shoulder with a smile, giddy that he keeps his hands on your every chance he gets.

“Is he home for Christmas?” you ask.

He pulls back and looks at you, a grin sliding on his face.

“He is. You’re a genius.” He presses another kiss to your head and your cheeks heat up at this one. “Maybe the guys will want a little reunion.”

“Will you play this?” you ask, nodding to the guitar hanging adjacent to where you’re standing.

“Sure will. She’s my sweetheart.” Your eyebrows pull together in a frown and Eddie coos at you. “Aw, baby. She’s my first sweetheart. You’re my number one sweetheart.”

When you keep frowning Eddie takes his thumb and runs it over the lines on your face.

“What’s the difference?” you ask.

“Well, I loved her first and I -.” His face turns beet red, and you can’t help the smile that lights up your face.

“And you what, Eddie?” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And I, uh.” Eddie coughs, avoiding your eyes. “I have you as my sweetheart now. I mean, um.”

As adorable as his scrambling is, you can’t take how uncomfortable he looks so you raise yourself up on your toes and press a kiss to his lips. Eddie sighs in relief against your lips and rests his hands on your hips.

“You’re cute when you ramble,” you mumble against his mouth.

“M’glad,” he mumbles back. “You’re cute all the time.”

The doorbell rings and Eddie rests his forehead against yours.

“That’ll be the pizza,” he says. “On the one hand, I’m hungry. On the other hand, I want our mouths to be busy with different things.”

A flush comes up your body as you pull away from him.

“Eat first, lots of kissing later,” you tell him.

Dinner with Wayne and Eddie is nice, and you’re surprised at how funny Wayne is. He tells stories from his younger days, even making Eddie laugh as well, though he’s probably heard these stories so many times he could tell them himself.

“So,” Wayne says as he wipes his hands off on a napkin. “Eddie tells me you go to college with the Wheeler girl?”

“I do,” you affirm. “Emerson College. I love it, but Boston is very cold right now.”

“I don’t know how much better it is here,” Eddie says, leaning to look out the window, checking for any signs of snow.

“What’re you studying?” Wayne asks.

“Psychology.”

“So, is my nephew your first patient?”

You break out into a fit of giggles and Eddie’s dropped jaw and affronted face makes you laugh even harder. Wayne lets out his own chuckle and shrugs his shoulders.

“I’ve never gotten to embarrass Eddie in front of a girl before. I’m taking full advantage of this,” Wayne says.

“Aww, Eddie,” you coo, while still laughing, and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m going across the street to have dinner with Max,” Eddie says, even as he reaches for another slice of pizza.

“Max lives here?” you ask with a smile.

“Sure does. She’s a good kid,” Wayne says. “Bit of a mouth on her, but she’s a good kid.”

“I’ll have to say hi when you’re at work one day.” You pout up at Eddie, jutting your lower lip out.

“I got a few days off though,” Eddie says, slipping an arm around you as he shoves the pizza into his mouth. “I’ll only be coming back smelling like oil and gasoline a few days.”

“Y’all have any plans while you’re here?” Wayne asks.

“Well, I promised we’d get some decorations to make this place look more festive,” Eddie says. “Getting a tree, of course. Anything else you want to do while you’re here?”

“Nothing specific,” you say with a shrug. “Told Nancy I’d see her, of course.”

“Indiana sure ain’t known for being a tourist destination,” Wayne says.

“But I’m here,” Eddie says with a playful smirk. You know he’s joking, but he’s also right.

“Well, I wouldn’t spend Christmas with just anyone,” you say.

“And we’re glad to have you,” Wayne says.

“Very,” Eddie adds, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Out of all the films that made up Eddie and Wayne’s small collection, not one was a Christmas movie. Luckily, Frosty the Snowman is on television, followed by How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Wayne reclines in his chair, and you curl up next to Eddie on the couch to watch the animated programs. Eddie’s arm is wrapped snugly around you the whole time, and he pays more attention to the fact that he’s holding you than he does to the storylines.

As you’re getting ready for bed in the small bathroom, your tummy erupts in an excited sort of nerves at the fact that you’re sharing a bed with Eddie. A rather small bed, too. Part of you is glad it's winter and you’re wearing warm plaid pajama pants and an oversized Boston Bruins t-shirt, because you know you would’ve put pressure on yourself to wear more suggestive items to bed if it were warmer.

You open the bathroom door, and your socked feet pad down the hall to Eddie’s room, where he’s already lounging, one arm up over his head and the other resting on his stomach. His own plaid pajamas bottoms - black, instead of the pink ones on your bottom half - sitting low on his hips and his gray faded Dio shirt making him look hotter than he had any right to be. He smiles when you walk in and lifts his hips up so he can pull down the blankets for the both of you. There’s a pleasant buzzing sensation in your limbs as you slip into the bed next to him. He automatically wraps his arms around you, and you cuddle into his chest.

“You’re warm,” you mumble against his shirt.

“You’re hot,” he says, and you break into a giggle, burying your face in his neck.

You tilt your head up and press a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s chin.

“What time are we meeting Steve and Nancy tomorrow?” you ask.

Eddie gets that nervous look about him like he did in the van when he originally told you about the plans.

“They’re going to come here, actually,” he says, running his hand up and down your back. “Bringing food from a diner down the road from Steve that he loves, so prepare for him to bring half the menu.”

“Fine with me.” You run your nose up to behind Eddie’s ear and you feel him shiver under your touch. The echoes from the television drift down the hall and you’re pretty sure it’s the only thing keeping the two of you from jumping one another.

Eddie reaches behind him to flip the light off and curls back into you, resting his forehead against yours.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi, you.”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you say. “No one I’d rather spend Christmas with.”

“No?” he asks. “Not even your niece?”

“Eh, that means I’d have to spend it with my sister too, though, so no.”

He chuckles and presses his lips against yours.

“No one I’d rather spend it with either,” he says. “But there is something I want to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“Well,” he says, and even in the darkness you can tell that his face is getting pink. “I realized that even though we’ve been pretty inseparable since we met, I’ve never even asked you on a date.”

“Eddie,” you giggle his name against his lips. “That is so sweet. But we’ve had phone sex, I came to stay with you for Christmas, and I’m pretty sure we’re losing our virginities to each other real damn soon, so I think we’re a little past that.”

“Okay, fair,” Eddie agrees with a breathy laugh. “What about you being my girlfriend then? Can I ask you about that?”

“You can.” You rub your hands over his chest. “But I’m pretty sure you know what the answer will be.”

“I hope so.” He pecks your lips again. “But I want to ask anyway.”

“Go ahead then.”

“Be my girlfriend? Like, officially?”

“Depends,” you say with a smile. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

He purses his lips and lets out a hum before responding.

“Can I think about it?”

“Fine,” you say with a shrug. You take your hands off him and go to take the covers off of your body. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just go sleep at Nancy’s until you decide.”

He laughs and wraps his arms around your middle as you go to get up.

“No!” he whines and pulls your body back down against his. Back pressed against his chest, he squeezes you in his arms and presses loud smacking kisses against the back of your neck. “I’ve been yours since I first saw you.”

The grin his words bring to your face makes your cheek muscles ache.

“I could say the same,” you tell him.

“Shit, how’d I get so lucky?” he whispers into your hair.

“By being so cute, I guess.”

He hums a chuckle and tucks the blankets up around the two of you.

“We should probably try to sleep,” he says.

“Probably. But I don’t want to.”

“Me neither.”

The sun is almost up by the time you finally fall asleep in his arms. You’re used to hearing his voice right before you sleep from your regular phone calls, but it’s even better having his voice up close and personal right in your ear. Eddie falls asleep soon after you but still wakes up first.

As consciousness comes drifting back to him, he’s aware there’s something warm in his arms. His brow furrows before the apple scent of your shampoo jogs his memory, and a smile comes to his face as he huddles closer to your warmth. His eyes break open and the smile grows as he sees your sleeping face on the pillow next to his. Your face is so peaceful and calm, and it makes his heart stutter at how beautiful you look. He reaches up and softly strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, his eyes taking in every little detail of your face. There were times that Eddie thought he’d never get a girl to even say yes to going on a date with him, yet here he is, not even a month after meeting you, lying next to the girl he’s positive he’s falling in love with. And he finds it even crazier that you seem to feel the same way about him.

You start to move in his arms and Eddie stays still so he doesn’t disturb you. His hand drops down to your hip as you turn on your side and snuggle closer to him. He can’t help but press a gentle kiss on your forehead, lips pulled up in a grin against your skin. A hum leaves your throat and Eddie looks down at you at the noise. You blink your eyes open, lashes fluttering as your eyes adjust from sleep.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

At the sound of Eddie’s voice your head tips up and you meet his gaze. A smile lights up your face and Eddie presses another kiss to your forehead.

“Morning, handsome,” you reply.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

“Good,” you say with a dreamy sigh. You nuzzle your head into Eddie’s neck, and he wraps you up in his arms. He knows he should get up and get dressed, but he can’t bring himself to get up. It’s partially because he’s dreading the conversation he knows he needs to have with you. If he wants to have sex with you - and Lord knows he does - that means he’s going to have to take his shirt off. You’re the first person Eddie has met whom he’s positive won’t judge him on how gruesome they look. But that doesn’t mean you won’t ask how he got them.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask him and start peppering kisses up his neck.

“Best I ever have, I think,” he says, eyes fluttering closed. A moan slips out his lips and the vibration from the sound travels down his throat and into your lips. “You keep doing that and we’re never getting out of this bed.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” you speak against his skin.

Eddie agrees, but the knot in his stomach is from nerves as opposed to hormones - though there was definitely some of that too. The thought of you seeing his scars without any warning beforehand is the only thing keeping him from stripping the both of you naked in record time.

“Baby,” Eddie says, pulling away from your lips. “We should get up and get ready.”

A whine slips out as you bury your face in Eddie’s chest.

“Don’t wanna,” you say.

“Me neither,” Eddie says as he pushes the blankets off the two of you. “But I don’t want Steve coming in here and seeing you in your sexy pajamas.”

You laugh as you look down at your cozy attire, but your cheeks heat up at his words, nonetheless. Eddie slides out of the bed and tugs the blankets all the way off you. He smirks as his cold hands grab at your ankles and pull you down towards the foot of the bed. A squeal leaves your lips as you squirm, trying to escape his freezing fingers.

“Up, baby, up!”

“I’ll get up if you kiss me,” you offer.

“Ugh, if I have to.” He walks over to your side of the bed and leans down, pressing his lips quickly against yours. “Deals a deal, princess.”

With a huff, you climb out of the warm bed and search through your suitcase for some clothes for the day. Once both you and Eddie get dressed, he leads you into the living room and pulls you into his lap on the couch.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” he says, running one hand up and down your jean clad thigh.

“What’s up?” you ask as you card one of your hands through his hair.

He lets out a sigh and licks over his lips, avoiding your eyes. You frown and press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You can tell me anything, sweetheart,” you tell him.

There are tears in his eyes as he looks up at you, but he gives you a grateful smile.

“Do, um, do you remember the, uh, story Nancy and I told you? About what happened back in March?” He massages his fingers over your thigh, eyes trailing the patterns he’s making.

“Of course.”

“Well, uh, it was all the truth. But there’s even more to it.”

You tilt his chin up so he’s looking you in the eyes.

“Eddie, you can tell me.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe,” he says, hand patting your leg nervously.

“You’ve not lied to me yet,” you say with a shrug.

With a deep breath, Eddie begins to tell you a story that seems like it was ripped from one of the fantasy novels you love, only much more sinister. A tear escapes his eye and makes its way down his cheek as he recalls his near-death experience with the otherworldly creatures.

“And there were these bats—we called them ‘demobats,’ because of the demogorgon,” he explains, anxiously tapping his fingers along your leg. “I tried to fight them off, tried to buy more time, but they…they got me. Pinned me to the ground and tore out chunks of my skin. Hurt like fuckin’ hell.” He gnaws on his lower lip. “I would’ve been dead if Harrington and Henderson didn’t drag me outta there. Sometimes…sometimes, I wonder if I would’ve been better off dead.”

The last line is what breaks your heart most of all. Tears were already raining down your face, but at this last admission, you throw your arms around Eddie’s neck and squeeze him so tightly that it has to be uncomfortable for him.

“No,” you gasp against his neck. “No, don’t ever say that.”

You feel the emotion get the better of him as his body starts to shake, his own breath hitching as he begins crying in earnest. He clings to you and the pads of his fingers dig into your back as he buries his face in your neck. The two of you cry together, you try to soothe Eddie by rubbing his back and pressing kisses into his hair while doing so.

“You’re safe now, Eddie,” you whisper to him once your own crying has subsided for the most part. “I’ve got you.”

He nods in recognition of your words, but his tears don’t cease. You just keep holding him, willing to never move from his lap again if it meant you could give him even an ounce of comfort. After a few long minutes, you feel his body relax under your touch. He pulls his head away from your neck and you pull back as well so you can see his face. It’s red and splotchy, his eyes are swollen, and traces of snot are on the end of his nose. He’s still the most beautiful man you’ve seen in your life. Moving slowly, not wanting to scare him or to give him time to pull away if he wants, you lean in and gently press your lips to his. Your hands come to cup his face as you pull away, looking at him through your own teary eyes.

“Eddie, wow.” You shake your head, not even sure where to begin. “Sweetheart,” you say, tilting his head to make sure he’s looking you in the eyes as you say this. “You’re a hero.”

He immediately shakes his head, and it hurts your heart.

“You are,” you insist. “You didn’t have to go back in like you did. It seems you were specifically told not to. But you did because you wanted to help. To give them the best chance. Even if it meant something terrible at your own expense.”

Eddie looks up at you under his thick lashes, big brown eyes even more childlike while shiny from tears.

“Sounds like a hero to me, babe,” you tell him.

He lets out a sigh and rubs the palm of his hand against his eye.

“I didn’t think I’d cry like that,” Eddie admits. “But I’ve also never told the story before, either.”

“What?” You move some hair off his face, stuck there because of the tears. “Not even Wayne.”

Eddie shakes his head.

“I couldn’t do that to him. He was worried enough as it was, I wasn’t about to add to it. He knows plenty, just not every gory detail. But you deserved to know the truth. Because I’m hoping you’ll be around for a while.” It’s the first time you’ve heard him sound shy and unsure of himself. It makes sense his confidence would be a little rattled after telling you that nightmare-come-true.

“I’ll be around as long as you’ll have me,” you assure him. “And Eddie? It really means a lot to me that you’ve trusted me with this. I know it wasn’t easy. And I need you to know I appreciate it.”

He gives you a small smile and you take it as a small victory.

“There’s another reason I wanted to tell you, too,” he says. He’s avoiding your eyes again and it makes the knot in your stomach start tightening again.

“What, baby?” you bring your hand to cup his cheek and press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Well, the, uh, attack. It left some…some fucking nasty scars.”

The way his face blushes in embarrassment makes you want to strangle any creature, native to this dimension or not, who ever caused Eddie a bit of harm.

“So, you wanted to tell me before I see you without your shirt on,” you guess.

He nods his head, cheeks still red.

“Eddie, look at me.” When he does, you continue. “It wouldn’t matter to me if you had scars on every square inch of skin on your body. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen and something as trivial as scars could never change that no matter how hard they tried. I may not have seen your body under your clothes yet, but what I have seen?” You lean in to whisper in his ear. “I love.”

Eddie looks up at you questioningly and you move yourself so you’re straddling his lap. Your hands wind behind his head and you interlock your fingers against the back of his neck.

“Your smile was what I noticed first. It’s so genuine and bright, I almost couldn’t believe it was directed at me when we first met. Then, of course, your amazing hair. It’s far nicer than mine and I’m equal parts jealous and turned on by it. And you know what else drives me crazy? This tiny waist.” You dig your fingers into his sides and Eddie chuckles when it tickles him. “It’s so hot. Really. And I’m not sure if you noticed, but I couldn’t stop staring at your bat tattoos all throughout thanksgiving dinner. It’s the sexiest tattoo I’ve ever seen.”

Eddie’s face is still blushing, but by the smile that’s on his face, you’re optimistic that it’s now for a different reason.

“So, I know for a fact that I’m going to love all the parts of you I haven’t seen bare yet. There’s no scar that’s going to keep me away from you. There’s no wound that’s going to make me not want to have your body pressed up against mine. It’s just not possible.”

Tears begin to well in Eddie’s eyes now, but there’s a light in them that wasn’t there when he was telling his story. His face looks hopeful, but the fact that he thought any of this would change the way you feel about him is absolute ludacris.

“This why Steve and Nancy are coming over?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Eddie admits. “They knew about all the insane shit in this town way before I did. Figured they could answer any questions I couldn’t. And maybe provide proof if you didn’t believe me.”

“I believe you,” you tell him truthfully. “And I also want you to know that you don’t have to show me your scars until you’re ready. I know we talked about having sex but -.”

“No, no, I want to,” Eddie cuts you off. His wide eager eyes make you laugh and lean forward to give him a soft kiss.

“So do I.”

The sound of a car pulling up outside has you and Eddie both looking towards the front door. Wayne had left bright and early this morning, Eddie had told you, meeting up with some old friends who were back in town for the holidays. It made the trailer the perfect place to talk about interdimensional incidents over lunch without prying ears.

There’s a soft set of footsteps that approach the front door, followed by a heavier gate. You slip off your boyfriend’s lap as there’s a gentle knock on the door. A knock you’ve heard on your own dorm door a hundred times before.

“They better be up,” you hear Steve say.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he pushes off the couch. He opens the front door and puts on a fake show of yawning and stretching his muscles out.

“Was I loud?” Steve asks Nancy, to which she responds by rolling her eyes. She steps past the two boys to come inside and give you a hug.

“How was the flight?” she asks.

“Not bad. What about yours?”

“Crying baby, but other than that, can’t complain.”

Eddie helps Steve set all of the food he brought down on the kitchen counter.

“Hey!” Steve calls out to you as he steps around the counter to pull you into a hug. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you say, squeezing him around his middle.

“I take it from the red eyes, Munson, that the conversation’s already started?” Steve asks.

“My part’s done,” Eddie says with a shrug as he struggles to open a takeout box. He manages to get the lid off and takes a sniff at the food inside. “What is this?”

“Some cornbread thing they said I have to try, I don’t know,” Steve answers.

“Are you…okay?” Nancy asks, clearly not knowing how to ask how you’re feeling about the whole Upside Down thing.

“It’s a bit much,” you admit with a sigh. “A lot to wrap my head around. I mean, I totally believe it, it’s just…”

“A lot to take in?” Steve offers, to which you nod. “I know,” he says. “I walked in on it firsthand. Had a gun pointed to my face, almost wet myself, then came back with a bat full of nails and joined the fight.”

“Who the hell held a gun to your face?” you ask, brow furrowing and Eddie laughs from where he’s going through the food.

Steve shoots a pointed look at his girlfriend, who shrugs and gives you a grimace.

“You almost shot your boyfriend?!” you yell.

“He wasn’t my boyfr- oh. Wait. Yeah, he was my boyfriend then. I guess I did do that. But in my defense, I was trying to make him leave so he didn't get caught up in the whole mess. Clearly, it didn’t work.”

“He takes any excuse to tell a story about his precious bat with the nails, I swear,” Eddie says, coming in from the kitchen with half a turkey sandwich. He holds it up to your lips to offer you a bite, which you take.

“And El really has powers?” you ask.

“We should sit down and eat,” Nancy says, gesturing to the food. “This could take a while.”

Nancy and Steve are able to answer all of your questions so well that even if you had thought this was all some sort of joke, you wouldn’t have any more with all the details they’re giving you. It would take your mind a while to accept this all as a reality, but you know you’re the lucky one because they’ve been through this hell while you’re just trying to imagine it.

“Holy shit,” you say when they’re done. “No wonder you’re all bonded so much. You guys can only talk about this with each other.”

“Yep,” Eddie says. “Also part of why I could never tell you over the phone. But I mean, this is kind of a more in person conversation anyway.”

“Wait, they bug your phone?” you ask.

“They used to,” Nancy says. “Not sure if they still do.”

“I hope not.” Your face blooms red, imagining some government people listening in on your phone sex session with Eddie. Steve catches onto the reason for the color on your face.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “If they are still bugging our phones, nothing you guys said could be any worse than what they’ve already heard from me and Nance.”

Eddie smirks while you turn redder and Nancy hits Steve on the arm.

The couple stay with you and Eddie for a few hours. The conversation moves to lighter topics and after hours of laughter and banter later, it’s almost as if the four of you have forgotten the dark note this visit started out on.

After they leave, with Nancy promising you a shopping trip when Eddie goes back to work in a few days, you feel mentally exhausted. It’s obvious Eddie does as well, so you suggest a good old fashioned snowball fight before it gets too dark out. Eddie accepts the challenge and the two of you dodge each other around the sides of the trailer for over an hour. Slinging scooped and formed bits of snow, cheering when you successfully hit one another, or cursing too loud when you missed. Soon, your bodies feel as tired as your minds, and you head back inside the trailer.

Eddie insists you go through the small movie collection and pick out whatever you want while he heats up some leftovers from lunch and makes two mugs of steaming hot cocoa. You pop in the Carrie VHS and snuggle up with Eddie on the couch. There’s a blanket on the other end of the couch and you reach over for it so you can drape it over you both. As Carrie attends her prom on screen, oblivious to the copious amounts of pig’s blood she’s about to be wearing, Eddie taps on your shoulder and points out the window. Snow is coming down in the evening sky and the sight of it makes you smile. Was there a better way to spend the night? Curled up against your boyfriend’s side with delicious food and hot cocoa, watching a horror movie while there’s snow falling outside.

After Carrie’s hand pops out of the ground at the end, not scaring either of you - even though it definitely did the both of you the first time you saw it - you stretch your legs and roll out your ankles.

“Tired?” Eddie asks.

“Only a little,” you say.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and you hum at the feeling of his lips on you.

“Wanna go to bed?” There’s another question in there, but the way his voice deepens as he asks it makes your tummy flip.

“Sure,” you tell him. The blanket falls to the couch as you stand up. Offering a hand to Eddie, you help him up, but he doesn’t let go of your hand all the way to the bedroom. Though you’re the only ones home and will be until sometime the next morning, he still shuts the door behind the two of you.

You turn to face Eddie and see him fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Walking over to him, you take each of his hands in your own. He squeezes them and you lean up to peck his lips.

“We don’t have to,” you say quietly.

His smile is aiming for a smirk but looks gleeful instead.

“I want to as long as you do.”

“Of course,” you tell him. He takes a deep breath, and you grab the bottom of his shirt in your hands. “Can I?”

Eddie nods, anxiety clear in his eyes as you’re about to see his scarred chest and abdomen. You raise the fabric up slowly, giving him the opportunity to stop you at any point if he wants to. But he doesn’t, he just lifts his arms to help you get it over his head.

When he’s there bare chested before you, your mind holds a few thoughts. First is how absolutely breathtaking he looks. You weren’t lying before; you really do love his adorable tiny waist. There’s something so sexy about it. The second thought is that the scars looked like they were incredibly painful when he was first inflicted with them. It makes you want to take down all the mythical beings that ever thought of laying a hand on your boyfriend. The third thought is of how heartbroken you are that Eddie had to go through all of this and still doesn’t see himself as a hero. His battle scars are right there, pink and white jagged lines that show off his bravery and strength. How Eddie sees anything other than that is beyond you.

“Eddie, you’re so beautiful,” you say, eyes glued to his chest. He’s watching your face carefully, but you can’t tell because your eyes are tracing the patterns the injured skin created. “Can I…can I touch them? Do they hurt?”

“They don’t hurt anymore,” he assures you. “And yeah, you can touch them if you want.”

You waste no time and start to lightly run your fingers over the healed wounds, mapping out Eddie’s chest. It’s obvious where the demobats took the largest bites of his body, and you ghost your fingertips over those areas as well.

“I don’t know why you were afraid to tell me about these,” you say, eyes never straying from the puckered flesh of his body. “They’re beautiful. Every single bit.”

His chest flushes pink at your words and you’re assuming his face does the same. Your hands keep going further down until they rest at his waistband. His belt buckle makes you smile as you try to figure out how to undo the handcuffs.

“This okay?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you open one of the cuffs.

“S’perfect, baby,” he whines. Already so needy for you. The thought sends a buzz through your body before finally settling between your legs.

You get the belt buckle undone and he helps you push his pants down past his hips. He steps out of them, kicking them behind him somewhere. Eddie’s fingers ghost over the hem of your t-shirt. He searches your face for approval, and when you nod at him, he slides your shirt up and over your head. You’d worn your nicest bra today because you figured Eddie would be seeing it. It’s black lace, the only one you have matching panties of, which you also wore today. The way Eddie’s eyes trail your torso makes you want to cover yourself. Your arms even flinch to do so, but then you remember how vulnerable Eddie is being by letting you see his scars, and you leave your arms where they are.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in the air between you. The flush on your cheeks spreads down to your chest and it makes Eddie grin like a kid in a candy store. He leans in to whisper in your ear. “Now, whenever I make you blush, I’ll know just how far down it’s going.”

The color on your skin only darkens at his words, and you also feel the effect they have down in your core. As Eddie reaches for the button of your jeans, you reach up and cup his face in your hands. He leans in and kisses you softly as he pops the button open and starts to push the material down. You wiggle your hips to help, but that causes him to groan against your lips. You giggle as you pull back.

“I was just trying to help,” you say.

“And it was sexy,” he says. “Oh, and fuck, so are those.” He looks like he’s in pain as he stares at your black lace panties. You step out of your jeans and move backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Eddie follows eagerly, his mouth chasing yours. Lips connected in a tender kiss, Eddie gently lowers you to the bed. You use your elbows to crawl backwards up towards the pillows while never breaking the kiss. Eddie crawls up along your body, hand softly grazing your skin as he goes. You lay back against the pillow and Eddie rests an elbow on either side of your head. He leans in, tilting his head to kiss you at a new angle as he lowers his body gently down on yours. When you feel his clothed erection through his boxers it makes you shiver, causing Eddie to chuckle against your lips.

“What, baby?” he says softly.

“Feels good.” You take his head in your hands to press your mouths together again. “You should take those off.”

He raises a teasing eyebrow at you.

“Want me to be the first one naked, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum with a soft giggle.

“As you wish.”

Eddie reaches down and pushes his boxers down, leaving you to gasp and bite your lip as he kicks them off his legs.

“Well, shit, Eddie,” you say. “It’s official. Every part of you is fucking perfect.”

Eddie ducks his head, cheeks red at your comment, and presses kisses against your shoulder. He trails his lips up your neck, one hand bracing him up, and the other running over the smooth skin of your hip. Two fingers slip under the band of your panties on your hip, then he lets the material snap back against your skin with a smack. You let out a whimper and Eddie keeps up his ministrations on your neck, working his way up to your jaw.

“Wanna touch you, Eddie,” you whine.

He hums a laugh against your skin.

“I should warn you, baby,” he says against your jaw. “You touching me is going to throw me over the edge.”

“That’s fine,” you purr in his ear. “Gives me plenty of time to work you up again.”

“Fuck.” Eddie drops his forehead to your shoulder. He knows he isn’t going to last long, and you haven’t even touched him yet.

The feeling of his precum dripping onto your stomach makes you even wetter as your legs brush up against one another underneath Eddie.

“So, can I?” you ask shyly. “Can I touch you?”

“‘Course you can, sweetheart.” His voice is gravelly and stuttering. It’s almost making you dizzy, this effect you’re having on him. It’s a different sort of high you want to chase again and again.

“You’re going to have to tell me what to do, baby. How you like,” you say.

Again, Eddie huffs a laugh against your neck.

“Princess, I don’t even know if we’ll get that far. Just… spit on your hand, yeah? Good, like that.”

You do as you’re instructed and slowly start to reach for his dick. It’s not that you don’t want to touch it - because you really, really do - but your inexperience is making you a little anxious, even though you know Eddie has the same inexperience. But he knows his body and you’ve never even seen a penis in real life until this moment. You know basic biology and anatomy but being in this situation is a whole lot different than doing a homework assignment on the male reproductive system.

“Baby, you’re not going to hurt me,” Eddie assures you. “Shit, I’m worried about doing that to you.”

“Guide me?” you ask in a small voice.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead, nose, then lips. He takes the wrist of your slick hand and brings it down to his cock. He wraps your hand right where he wants it and the moan that comes out of him when your fingers touch him is enough to make you cum yourself.

His skin is surprisingly soft as you finally leave the anxiety behind and now focus on the feeling of him in your hand. Eddie’s hand adjusts your grip, and he shows you how he likes to be stroked. He does it once, twice, three times with you, then lets you go so you can do it on your own.

“S’good?” you ask, your eyes glued to your hand working over his dick.

“Mhm. Fuck.” He had been watching your hand work as well but needed to close his eyes because the sight of you touching him was about to bring him over the edge. “Shit babe, I’m sorry, not gonna last.”

“Good, I want to make you cum,” you say.

Eddie grits his teeth, the muscles of his abdomen tighten underneath his scarred skin, and his fist clenches the pillowcase your head is resting on.

“I-I’m cumming. Holy shit, I’m cumming.”

He barely gets the warning out in time before he’s releasing all over your hand. You stroke him through it, keeping the same consistent pace you were doing before. The thought that you’d get lots and lots of practice with this makes your head spin.

Eddie’s white seed coats both his and your stomach by the time he’s spent, every last drop milked from him.

Watching Eddie come apart on top of you was hands down the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. His face contorted in pleasure, a thin sheen of sweat making his body glisten. He’s never looked more perfect.

With a dopey grin on his face, Eddie tries to get his breathing back to normal as he comes down from his high. He needs to lay down, so he flops down next to you.

“Oh baby, that was…fuck. Perfect, is what it was. Thank you.”

He turns his head towards you to give you a kiss. You smile against his lips, pecking them a few times. Then you look down at your stomach, lines of white looking like a Jackson Pollock painting. You swipe two fingers through it and pop them in your mouth. Eddie moans as he watches you suck his cum off yourself.

“You’re going to get me harder again faster than I thought,” Eddie says with a breathless laugh. “But first, it’s your turn.”

He sits up and scoots down to the foot of the bed. This time when he grabs your ankles his hands aren’t freezing. You giggle as he tugs you down, but the laughter turns into a whine as he begins to slip your panties off. You lift your hips to help him, and he gets them off and tosses them on his nightstand. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he just smirks.

“If I had a back pocket, they’d be put there. But that’ll have to do for now.”

You expect him to spread your legs, but he leans up over your body to kiss your lips. His hand cups your neck, then slides down your shoulder and over your breast. He palms it over the lace and that feeling alone has you closing your eyes and arching your back. His thick fingers trail down the side of the bra until he reaches your back. You sit up just enough for him to reach behind and unclip the bra. You smile to yourself, wondering how long it would take him. He gets it fairly quickly, a triumphant sigh spilling from his lips as he does. The lace straps of the bra feel nice against your heated skin as you slide them down your shoulders and toss the bra off the side of the bed. Eddie’s gaze is hungry, and it sends a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

Eddie gently lowers you back down to the pillows. He starts by kissing your lips, then moves down to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, then up the swell of your breast until he reaches your nipple. His tongue works over it before he takes it into his mouth and lets it go with a satisfying pop. Never one to half ass something, Eddie moves to your other breast to give it the same attention. Once he’s satisfied there - even though he makes a mental note that he wants to put as many hickeys as he can there asap - he kisses down your tummy, hands coming to massage your thighs. The further he slides down your body, he eases himself off the bed until he’s kneeling on the floor. One gentle hand on each knee, he spreads your legs in front of him and a moan comes out at the sight.

“Well shit,” Eddie says, echoing your statement from before. “It’s official. Every part of you is fucking perfect.”

You try your best not to be self-conscious, but it’s hard as no one has ever been down there before. When Eddie starts to press kisses on the inside of your thighs, you feel yourself calm down. You let your eyes slip closed and just try to be in the moment and not in your own head. Just feel Eddie’s lips on your skin, inching closer to the place you want them to be.

“You okay?”

“M’fine,” you say, voice in a dreamy haze. The fact that he’s checking in with you eases your nerves as well.

Kisses go higher and higher, coming to the apex of your thigh. Your body jumps, startled as Eddie’s fingers glide along the outside of your folds.

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You hold up your arm to give him a thumbs up and he chuckles again. You’re glad you’re both able to laugh and be silly with one another with this. It makes it feel more real, more intimate, more you.

Eddie uses his fingers to part your folds and the moan that emanates from his throat is purely pornographic.

“Shit, baby,” he says. “Your pussy is so pretty. Fuck, I bet it tastes as good as it looks.”

Between his words and your anticipation for what’s coming next, you feel the urge to buck your hips up, but manage to hold them still.

Eddie’s thumb ghosts over your clit and your hand immediately fists the sheet below you. Your boyfriend smirks to himself, loving making you squirm like this. It blows his mind that he gets to be with you like this. That he’s going to be able to learn your body. What makes you moan, what makes you scream, how to touch you and kiss you just right to make sure you feel as good as you make him feel.

He wants to take it slow since this is both of your first times, but the urge to just dive into your pussy is so strong. He needs to know how you taste. If it’s as sweet as he’s imagined since he jerked off to the thought of you when he went home after meeting you for the first time.

He runs his thick fingers through your slick folds and lets out a hiss when he feels how wet you are.

“This is all for me, baby? Does me touching you work you up this bad?”

“Yes,” you whine out. “Love it when you touch me. Makes me so wet.”

A growl rattles in Eddie’s chest and he experimentally runs a finger around your hole, but never breaching it.

“How’s it feel when you put your fingers in yourself?” he asks.

“Not enough,” you say, breathing becoming more rapid by the second. “Not big enough. Can't reach deep enough.”

“Think my fingers would be better then, princess?”

“Yes!” The way you practically shout it gives Eddie all the encouragement he needs to slide a finger into your right hole. You barely have time to get used to that before his tongue is assaulting your clit. “Fuck! Oh fuck, Eddie.”

The way you say his name has his cock stirring again. He slips a second finger in with the first and the way you move your hips lets him know you’re starting to feel the stretch. Eddie knows the first time can be painful for girls, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He wants this to be perfect for you.

As he starts to slowly pump the two fingers in and out of you, Eddie attaches his lips to your clit, sucking on it as he listens to your little whimpers and moans coming from above.

“Like it, baby?” he pulls his mouth away to ask. “God, you’re so fucking tight around my fingers.”

“So much.” You sound like you’re about to cry, but not in a sad way. Overwhelmed, more likely. When Eddie crooks his fingers in a “come hither” motion and hits that sweet, sweet spot inside of you, your hips buck up and you moan a string of eddie-eddie-eddie-eddie’s. Eddie pumps his fingers a few more times before pulling them out. He doesn’t hesitate, his thick fingers covered in your slick go right from your pussy into his mouth. The garbled noise that comes from the back of your throat is part desperation since your hole feels empty now, and partly at how hot it was to watch Eddie lick you off of himself.

“God, you’re even sweeter than I thought,” he says. “So fucking perfect.”

Eddie lifts the back of your knees over his shoulders so he can be up close and personal with your cute little button and pretty little hole. He dives in immediately, licking into your hole, his fingers keeping you open wide as possible for him. He hardens his tongue as he thrusts it inside you and your hand searches for something to grip onto. You settle for another pillow, but that’s fine. You just need something to squeeze as Eddie brings you pure bliss.

Eddie’s tongue moves up to your clit, licking and sucking, and putting just the right amount of pressure on it. The fact that Eddie was only going to get better at this over time blows your mind. This is his first time and he’s already making you feel euphoric.

His mouth moves down again, but he takes a position where every lick he gives to your hole, his nose nudges against your clit, sending shockwaves up your body.

“Eddie, fuck,” you whine. “Gonna cum, baby.”

“Good girl,” Eddie says against your mound. He slides his hands up to cup at your breasts. “Cum for me, princess.”

It only takes a few more swipes of his tongue until your buildup can’t take anymore. White flashes behind your eyelids as your orgasm gets its hooks in you. The arching of your back was involuntary, and the whimpers and moans you’re making are sounds you didn’t know you were capable of producing. Head thrown back in the pillow, thighs closing around Eddie’s head, you feel ecstasy in this moment. It washes over your body, wading and cresting like waves on a beach.

Letting out a deep breath, you relax all the muscles that have tightened up, including the ones holding your boyfriend’s head between your legs, and melt into the sheets of the bed.

Eddie’s smirk is triumphant as he crawls up the bed, hovering over you as you try to catch your breath.

“So, how was that?”

“Holy shit,” is your only answer and it seems to satisfy him.

Eddie leans down and presses a loving kiss to your lips.

“I can’t wait until I can get a better view of your face when you cum. I bet it’s breathtaking. Your sounds alone are enough for me to get off to for years. But I must say, the view I had was pretty fucking amazing. Damn, baby. The way your pretty little hole kept sucking my fingers in. And your adorable little clit that I could play with all day.”

His words turn you scarlet red and you try to turn your head to hide it in the pillow. Eddie’s not having it though and uses one hand to tilt your chin back towards him.

“You better get used to me giving you compliments, sweet thing. It’s only going to get worse now that you’re officially my girlfriend.”

“How do you always make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside?” you ask.

“Because I’m basically a metal teddy bear,” he says, drinking up his nose in the most adorable fashion.

“You are!” The title fits him so well that you can’t help but laugh.

Eddie chuckles and leans in for another kiss. It starts off tender and innocent enough, but quickly evolves to all tongues and teeth, and Eddie starts pawing at your breasts. Your hips raise off the bed and rub against Eddie’s, where you can feel his cock, hard again now.

“Eddie,” you whine as he moves his kisses to your neck.

“Yeah, baby?” He’s leaving a hickey that will definitely show, even if you wear a turtleneck.

“Need you.”

He hums against your skin as his hands roam the expanses of bare skin before him.

“How, sweetheart? Tell me how.”

“Need you in me,” you whimper. “Need you so close.”

Eddie leans over your body, and it places one of his most gruesome scars right in front of your face. Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you place a soft kiss against the patch of pink and white skin. There’s a smile on Eddie’s face as he comes back with a condom and small tube of lube in hand.

You watch as Eddie slips the condom on. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but you can’t take your eyes off his long, thick cock. If just two of his fingers made you feel the stretch, you can’t imagine how full you’ll feel with all of Eddie buried inside you.

He grabs the lube and shrugs as he pours some into his hand. The smell of cherries floods the air.

“Just wanna be extra careful,” he explains as he fists the lube over his cock. “I want to make it as painless for you as I can.”

“You are the absolute sweetest,” you tell him.

Once the lube is sufficiently applied, you lay back against the pillows and watch Eddie settle between your legs. He grabs a spare pillow and taps the side of your hip. You raise them so he can slide the pillow under.

Eddie leans up and presses a slow and loving kiss against your lips.

“Ready, princess?”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Kiss me while you go in?”

He did not need to be told twice. Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, and barely breaches you. You hardly feel a thing as Eddie comes up and kisses you, pouring all his devotion and heart into it. His hand snakes between your bodies as well to start rubbing your clit. Maybe between the kissing and the attention on your clit will help ease any discomfort you might have. The sting and burn are still there though, but it’s more bearable with the world's best kisses.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you, sweetheart,” Eddie says against your lips.

“N-Not hurting,” you say, hand coming up to grip at his shoulder.

Eddie nods, kissing your neck. “Let me know what you need. I’ll give you whatever you n-need.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, baby.” You wrap your legs around his, helping to guide him in.

Eddie groans and the sound makes you tremble with pleasure. “Shit, you feel s’fucking perfect. Like we were made for each other.”

“Uh huh,” you pant out, one hand sliding up to tangle in Eddie’s hair. There’s a pinch and you feel a sting between your legs as Eddie bottoms out, but you don’t say anything as you feel his hot kisses on your skin. It doesn’t hurt for long, and you know Eddie would pause his motions, but that’s the last thing you want.

“F-Faster, Eddie,” you say. “Want more.”

His kisses trail up to your lips and his hips pick up speed.

“This good, baby?” he asks.

“Yes. Fuck, yes.”

His hand moves from your clit to squeeze your hip. He holds it in his tight grip as his hips start to piston in and out of you, his pace becoming more irregular. It gives you a warm feeling in your limbs as you realize you can already recognize when Eddie is close to cumming. You clench around him, and he gasps, hand sliding from your hip to cup your breast.

“I can’t believe how fucking tight you are, baby,” he groans. “Such a perfect pussy.”

With a moan, you arch your back, forcing your breast even more into your boyfriend’s hand.

“Eddie, you’re so big. Love how you fill me up.”

“M’close. Wanna hold out but you feel too good around me.” His lips capture yours and you’re instantly licking into his mouth. Your hand tugs gently on his hair and his hips snap forward, the mattress creaking in protest at the ferocity. You pull back and rest your forehead against Eddie’s.

“Want you to feel good,” you say. “Want you to cum.”

A guttural moan comes from his throat and it’s enough to make you orgasm on the spot. His sounds are music to your ears, and you’d listen to him make them for the rest of your lives if he let you.

“Gonna, baby. Gonna cum.”

You nod at him, encouraging him as your fingers scratch at his scalp. He goes to bury his face in your neck, but you stop him.

“Wanna see your face,” you tell him. “Wanna watch you.”

Eddie nods, sweat beading on his forehead as his face scrunches in pleasure. He looks so beautiful you can’t help but steal a few more kisses.

“Cum for me, Eddie.”

The words are all he needs, his hips thrusting once, twice, before a whine leaves his lips as he spills inside the condom. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you sends a flutter through you and a smile spreads on your face. Eddie’s eyes focus on your face as he rides out his high, and a matching smile grows on his face as he takes in your flushed and grinning face.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Eddie says between ragged breaths.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands and bring his lips down to yours. Never taking his mouth off of yours, he slips out of you and lays down next to you on the bed.

You reluctantly pull away when you need air, but you rest your hands on Eddie’s chest so you’re still touching him in some way. He slips out of the condom, ties it off, and tosses it in the trash can next to his bed. When he rolls back over to face you, you wrap your arms around his neck, and he pulls your body against his.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says.

“Good, baby?”

“Good? Good? Try fucking amazing,” Eddie says. He peppers kisses all over your face, making you giggle. “I’m sorry you didn’t cum though, baby.”

“Sweetie, I did,” you tell him. “Because of your sinful mouth.”

Eddie ducks his head bashfully, a red tint coming to his cheeks.

“Yeah, but not while I was in you.”

“That’s okay,” you say honestly. You push some of the damp hair from his forehead and kiss his cheek. “Most girls don’t the first time like that. But my boyfriend is generous and made sure I was taken care of beforehand.”

His hand trails up and down your back as he smiles down at you.

“Was my pleasure, baby. Trust me.”

With a giggle, you slip from his arms and off the bed. He pouts but you assure him you’ll be right back before slipping into the bathroom. Your sister never taught you much in life, but once piece of advice she’d given you is to pee after sex. When you walk back into Eddie’s room, his face is still blissed out as he stares up at the ceiling. He lifts his head when he sees you in the doorway and raises an eyebrow at you.

“All good?”

“Mhmm,” you say, making your way back to the bed. “There was only a little bit of blood.”

Eddie sits up quickly, frown coming to his face.

“What? Blood? Are you okay? Was I too rough?”

The concern on his face melts your heart and you shake your head as you sit down next to him.

“Oh, baby, no.” He pulls you into his lap and you rest your hands on his shoulders. “It’s just something that happens the first time. You were perfect. Thank you for being so careful with me.”

Eddie nods and rests his forehead against yours.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Sleepy?” you ask.

His responding yawn makes you chuckle, and you slide from his lap. You grab your panties from the nightstand and Eddie’s shirt from the floor and slip them on.

“You’re not gonna stay naked?” Eddie asks with a pout.

“It’s freezing!” you say.

“I’ll keep you warm.” Eddie lays down and opens his arms for you. You scoop his boxers up from the floor and toss them at his chest before slipping under the covers. He pulls them up his hips and situates himself back against the pillows.

Blankets pulled up to your neck, you sling your arm over Eddie’s middle and lay your head on his shoulder. Wrapped up in his embrace, you’ve never felt happier. The two of you whisper back and forth in the dark room for a few moments before you drift off to sleep, warm and cozy in each other’s arms.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #WTHI

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strniohoeee · 6 months

Note

matt despises reader but after noticing that she is having a hard period between anxiety and depression he gifts her a basket full of goodies, like books (she loves to read), fluffy socks, candles and she thinks it's a joke but he ends up confessing

Fall

Pairing:Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Matt is blind to the readers true feelings as he’s so focused on his own. It takes some separation and an Instagram post for him to realize he messed up🎈

Warnings⚠️: None, hope you enjoy though because I’m hating my writing as of lately 🥹❤️

Song for the imagine: I Wonder- The Willowz

I’m laughing, but you’re laughing at me

And I think “oh how could this be?”

And I wonder if it could be the same

He kept looking at me the whole night, and it was starting to annoy me. His face made my blood boil. Like what do you want? It was like he was grilling me

Matt hated me, and to be honest I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t even care really, but he made hanging out with Chris and Nick boring. He was such a Debby downer, and he ruined my already shitty mood constantly.

Nick always told me to ignore him which I did for the most part, but honestly his weird attitude has been making my anxiety worse.

“What do you want?” He asked him finally getting fed up

“Nothing” he said getting defensive

“Well then quit staring” I said rolling my eyes

“You wish” he said scoffing

I started to hangout with them more because my at home life had become difficult. I was slipping into a depression I’ve never been through before. With that came my anxiety, and I just wanted to be away from my room

Of course Nick and Chris didn’t mind it. I was actually shocked Matt found it to be annoying since he struggles with anxiety, but I ignored it.

I often sat with them reading. I didn't mind that they didn’t have plans. I just wanted to be in their presence. It made me feel better.

“You come here almost everyday, and then you just sit around reading” Matt says laughing

“I like to read” I said flipping the page

“Yeah I know” he said shaking his head

“What’s it to you anyways? Not like I’m bothering you” I said laughing at him

“It’s just why not stay home if all you’re doing is reading” he said

“Well Matthew maybe it’s because some people have a difficult time at home, and want to get away from it” I said looking up at him

“Doesn’t mean you have to come here” he said rolling his eyes

“You’re such a dick all the time” I said to him

“The doors right there” he said shrugging his shoulders

“You just don’t get it, do you?” I responded slamming my book shut and scooting away from the table harshly

“Oh come on” he said rolling his eyes

I ignored him and grabbed my stuff, and decided to head home. Matt was such a fucking dick, and I was so over his prissy attitude.

He made me feel like shit, and it was getting harder to be myself and try and have fun. I never wanted to see him again.

I really tried to ignore him, but I really couldn’t. His over analyzing me made me super self conscious, and I was beginning to hate myself.

After that day I had decided to stay home and not really bother them. I truly didn’t want them to think I just used them or anything. Slowly this made me slip into a depression.

Chris and Nick had been texting me daily, but I would rarely ever answer them. Too embarrassed to tell them that Matt had made me hate going to their house. I knew this would make them upset with their brother

I had been sitting in my living room reading Where The Wind Blows when suddenly I heard a loud knock at my front door.

I was a bit concerned as to who would be knocking at my door at 9PM on a Thursday night. However I shut my book and decided to answer the door.

Shock plastered on my face at who was standing in front of me.

“Matt?” I questioned raising my eyebrow

“Uhh can we speak?” He said holding something behind his back awkwardly

“I guess” I said moving out the way to let him in

He walked in, and I shut the door really confused as to why he was here.

“I’m sorry, can I help you with something?” I said shaking my head

“I got you this” he blurts out and turned around to hand me a gift basket

There were flowers, candles, candies, and books. I grabbed it and looked at him still confused

“Matt what is this?” I said blinking at him

“Well I got you roses because they’re your favorite, and then I got you candles and here’s the thing I couldn’t pick just one because I know you love the vanilla candle, but you also love Mahogany Teakwood, but then you also love the peppermint one; so I got you all of them. And then I know you said you loved Twilight but never read the books. So I went to get you the first one, but then I realized you’d have to read all of them, so I got the complete series. And when I was buying candy I remembered all the candies you listed to me like a year ago that you liked, so I had to get them all and-“ he was rambling until I cut him off

“No Matt I mean why are you giving me this?” I said placing the basket down on the table next to us

“Oh….I wanted to say I’m sorry” he said looking down

“Sorry?” I said cocking my head to the side

“I’ve been such an asshole to you lately, and it was wrong. Most of the time I’m joking, but I realized you’re sensitive, WAIT NO not like that I just mean I joke the wrong way with you. And that’s my fault, so I’m sorry. But also I’m a really dry person and I like to people watch. And I also realized that that comes off mean and weird. It’s not what I meant” he said talking fastly

“Matt, calm down. It’s okay” I said getting flustered

“And I should’ve realized what you were going through sooner. I hadn’t realized how bad you had gotten” he said shaking his head

“What do you mean?” I asked

“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” he stated

“I’m sorry?” I said furrowing my eyebrows

“Well you see I remember you told me you only watch that movie when you’re super depressed, and you posted it on your story a few days ago. It made me open my eyes” he stated

“Matt how do you remember all this” I said letting out a nervous giggle

“Can’t you see? I’m madly in love with you” he said blinking

“You’re what?” I said my jaw dropping and heat rising to my cheeks

“I just wasn’t sure how to go about it because I don’t know how to open up about my feelings and I realize I was actually pushing you further away from me because I just don’t know how to act around you and once again I’m sorry” he said stepping a bit closer

“Matt, it's okay. You were an asshole to me, but I also wasn’t the nicest in trying to understand you” I said

“I mean no it’s not okay. I’m not sure why I couldn’t just open up to you and tell you how I really feel without completely destroying it.” He replied

“I’m just shocked you remembered so much about me” I said looking over at the gift basket

“How could I not? You’re the most interesting person in my life” he replied blinking softly at me

“You’re really throwing me for a loop here” I said laughing

“I know, and it’s because I’m an idiot who can’t get my shit together” he said signing

“It’s okay Matt. I appreciate all of this. I’m truly grateful” I said pulling him in for a hug

“I just really like you and I’m sorry that I just couldn’t figure out how to reciprocate that properly” he said letting go of me

“ I mean yes you did go about it horribly but I’m glad you let me know I mean hey it’s better late than never” I said offering him a smile

“Do you….do you like me too?” He asked

“You could say something like that” I said blushing and looking down

Matt gave me a smile and pulled me in. Our lips crashing together in a sweet yet passionate kiss. My heart flutters at the action.

That night Matt and I bonded over everything you could think of. Laying in his arms as we laughed about anything and everything.

It’s so weird what communication can do. It can really make or break you.

And it made us.

The End

Yalllll I’m hating everything I write. I tried to make this one decent. I'm sorry yall LMAOAOA. But anyways I hope you enjoyed it and I love yall dearly🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matt sturniolo

270 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 1 year

Note

i need more of “the customer is always right” before i wither away and die <3 the anticipation of IT happening is quite literally killing me ilysm

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | b-minus

summary: eddie munson takes the unconquerable english midterm that's forced him to repeat senior year two times. dustin henderson gets a pep talk. uncle wayne gives his nephew a warning. you cook your eddie spaghetti some spaghetti. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: idiots in love, experienced!reader, domestic bliss, staying the night, eddie munson tries to get used to being loved TW probable typos, swearing, discussions of being poor, talks of insecurities, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving) 18+ only!!

a/n: hi. hello. me again. you probably don't remember me because it's been almost TWO MONTHS. i'm really sorry about that btw this semester of college was sent from the actual depths of hell. please take this sixth installment of tcar and find it in your heart to forgive me <3 ily all xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, this is officially the last time I let you drive me anywhere,” Eddie gripes from the passenger seat of your too tiny car as one excruciatingly happy ABBA song bleeds into another.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re made of the same stuff you listen to — sunshine and melted ice cream and summer breezes. You match the blue skies above you as you belt the lyrics to the song you seem to know by heart.

The sight makes Eddie grin to himself, still beaming no matter how hard he rolls his eyes.

This was the only good thing about the breaks of his van going haywire and having to bum a ride to school from you — getting to see more of you in your element.

As much as he loved having you in his passenger seat, bobbing your head to whatever rock song he’d popped into the cassette player, there was something entirely different about seeing you in the driver’s seat.

This car was your safe space, spotted with stickers on the console and polaroids on the speedometer, where you could sing any damn ABBA song you wanted to because it was your own little bubble where nothing could touch you.

Eddie’s grateful you let him see it, all these parts of you that you reveal slowly to him like so many tiny rays of sunshine.

It’s even better to witness with a full stomach, which was maybe the second good thing about driving with you. You picked him up with time to spare to get breakfast — to take the long route to school and watch the rising sun sparkle over Lover’s Lake. There was no reason to speed through town like a maniac because he wasn’t in a rush. Today might be the first time all year he’s not five minutes late to first period.

He tells you to sing louder when you get all shy and hyperaware of his gaze, feeding you bits of your breakfast — but only on the instrumental parts so you don’t miss your favorites. The boy props his arm on the center console and folds down the wrapper of your greasy, plain biscuit with his thumb so it doesn’t get in the way of your bite. He doesn’t even complain when you try to sing through the mouthful.

He figures that this is what love is. A part of it, at least. That stupid, philosophical feeling people have been trying to describe for ages is sitting right beside him — with crumbs sticking to the corners of her mouth as she mixes up the words to the Dancing Queen chorus.

Love isn’t butterflies or tight chests — it’s this. It’s letting a person listen to music you hate because you know they love it and not caring that they’re singing horrifically off-key.

And it’s not like Eddie’s in love with you or anything. He’s just got a lot of adoration for you. It’s the kind of innocent affection that makes him love ABBA and think you’re one of the best damn singers he’s ever heard in his life — even though neither would be particularly true if he didn’t care about you so much.

It’s sort of like the love he’s got for Dustin, to still care about the little shrimp even when he’s annoying him to no end. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because Dustin Henderson isn’t the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Dustin Henderson doesn’t make him feel like his heart is being trampled by an entire stampede of zoo animals.

No one quite makes Eddie feel the way you do. But even if he was in love with you, he’s got no way of knowing the difference — between loving and being in love. The only thing he’s really sure of is that he doesn’t know a damn thing. And that the sick feeling in his stomach he gets every time he looks at you can’t possibly be normal.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” you retort. Your words come slurred and slightly muffled through the bite of biscuit in your cheek. “I know you secretly like it.”

“Of course I do!” he shouts over the catchy bass guitar and your subsequent laughter. “It’s just not the kinda shit I wanna listen to right before I take the biggest test of my life.”

It’s true. The past two times he’s been forced to take Ms. O’Donnell’s impossible midterm exam, he's listened to the exact same song — ‘Ride the Lightning,’ Metallica. It’s the only song that gives him enough of an adrenaline rush to gather the confidence to fail the same test. Twice.

Eddie Munson is a creature of habit. Today marks the third anniversary of the dreaded day that makes or breaks his high school career, but instead of spending it with Metallica, he’s spending it with you. He wants to believe you’re a good luck charm or some kind of lucky omen, but he’s terrified of getting his hopes up.

Expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. That’s what Uncle Wayne always said.

“I think ‘When I Kissed the Teacher’ has plenty of useful advice, Eddie Spaghetti.”

The boy turns to you with a bemused wide-eyed gaze. “If you’re suggesting I makeout with Ms. O’Donnell to pass her class, I’m gonna hurl— like actually hurl. And I will deliberately do it all over the floor of your car.”

“Would you rather repeat your senior year? Again?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat and with a very enthusiastic nod that makes his wild curls sway around his face. “I would rather be a senior for the rest of my life than kiss Ms. O’Donnell.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t have to, right? Because you’re totally gonna ace this thing.”

This is what you’ve been doing for over a week now — twisting everything negative into something more overtly positive. You meet Eddie’s pessimism and self-doubt with a sort of hopefulness he lost somewhere between the first and second time he got held back.

You force him to study in the gentlest way possible because you’re never anything but soft with him. You make him pretty little flashcards and flip through them with him on the opposite side of his bed, obviously more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he is. You give him sympathetic pecks on his cheek when he gets a question wrong and kiss him totally breathless when he gets the odd one right.

Eddie would be lying if he said the incentive didn’t help at least a little bit.

There is no hint of impatience or sign of hubris that makes him feel stupid. You just teach him to be kinder to himself with tiny little reminders that you’re doing all this right along with him.

“Considering I’ve failed it twice already, I highly doubt that, sweetheart,” he counters, and he’s kidding — mostly. He says it with a teasing lilt and a twinkle in his squinted eyes, but you know that’s his way of covering up that he’s totally serious.

He really doesn’t think he can do it, pass this stupid exam. He’s got absolutely no faith in himself — but that’s okay, because you’ve got all the faith in him in the world.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have me to help you study,” you argue, just before accepting the last piece of biscuit he plucks from the parchment and offers to you.

You speak through the mouthful. “But now you do! And we’ve been going over this all week and—” You cut yourself off to swallow the dry pastry. “—And you totally got this. You’re gonna blow ‘em outta the park, Eddie Spaghetti. I can feel it.”

Your optimism makes him smile even though he doesn’t really feel like smiling. He lolls his head against the seat to look at you, finds you with a pretty grin and tiny biscuit crumbs on the corners of your mouth, and has the sudden urge to tell you that he loves you.

It comes out of nowhere. It bubbles up all at once like vomit and startles him with its unexpectedness. The sudden and unfamiliar feeling makes him feel sick, like he just went upside down on a rollercoaster. Whoever said love felt like butterflies was a liar because it feels a whole lot more like getting punched in the stomach.

The words rise from his throat like bile and linger on the edge of his tongue. Eddie forces himself to swallow them back down again. The unsaid ‘Holy fuck, I love the shit outta you’ tastes far more bitter going down.

“What do I get if I ace it then, huh?” he wonders after an awkward blink of silence.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Your diploma.”

“I meant as a reward, dummy.”

“I feel like graduating high school is enough of a reward.”

“I just think I should be compensated for a job well done, is all,” he proposes with a lopsided grin. The teasing nature of his words drips from his mouth like honey.

You glance at him once, eyes wide and dumbfounded, then back to the road. “Eddie Munson…” you scold in a lighthearted lilt. “Get your head outta the gutter. It’s not even eight o’clock.”

That sort of thing wouldn’t have bothered you before. Any other time, you would’ve been all too happy to pull over and jerk him off in a barren parking lot, relieve all his pent-up stress about the exam in the form of a quick handjob. But you’ve been quite obviously keeping your hands to yourself since he told you he was a virgin.

You were serious about what you said before, about starting over, and Eddie learned that very quickly. You take to giving him tiny little pecks on the cheek and holding his sweaty hand in yours and hardly anything else — like you’re a couple of kids going steady.

Eddie likes it, though, the comforting nature of your unhurried disposition. He just hates the ache it leaves him with.

“It’s all I’m gonna be thinking about,” he confesses with a scrunched nose. “Just so ya know.”

“As long as it helps you pass,” you respond with the shake of your head.

“As long as it helps me pass…” Eddie echoes, quieter.

“Just think about the biggest kiss I’m gonna give you when I see you again,” you tell him, flashing him a beam as you slow at a stop sign. You trap your smile between your teeth and flash him a glance that can only be described as whimsical — full of shy smiles and fluttering lashes and sparkling eyes. “‘Cause I’m gonna kiss you absolutely stupid, Eddie Munson.”

A rose-colored hue sprinkles along the apples of his cheeks. He never thought a threat could sound so appealing.

“Cool…” is the only thing he could think to mutter in the moment, too busy trying not to smile too wide. He turns his glowing cheeks towards his lap and purses his smile towards his fiddling fingers. “But, uh, I have Hellfire after school, so… Maybe tomorrow?”

You meet his disappointed glance with a shrug. “You could come over after if you want?”

He wants to. He always wants to.

“It’ll probably be late.”

“Then just stay over.”

Your offer comes effortlessly but strikes a deep feeling of complexity within him. Eddie doesn’t know why it makes him so suddenly nervous, only that it makes his palms sweat almost instantly.

The two of you haven’t crossed that threshold yet — of sharing a bed to sleep. He’d catch you dozing on occasion, slouched against his headboard with your head on his shoulder, and he’d wake you. Not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he didn’t want your neck to ache.

You’d rouse with a groggy apology — “I should probably leave before Bowie starves to death and I drool all over your shoulder,” you’d tell him.

And it’s not like Eddie wanted you to leave, but he was more than happy to sleep alone. What if he snores obnoxiously loud or he does something gross in his sleep? If you got instantly turned off by some sleeping habit he didn’t even know he had, he thinks it might destroy him.

Eddie can’t control the front he puts up around everyone when he’s sleeping. And for a boy who’s still trying to impress a pretty girl, that’s a very frightening thought.

“Uh, okay… Are you— Are you sure?” he stammers.

His apprehension confuses you. The offer hadn’t felt like that big of a deal to you. “I mean… yeah? We practically did it over the phone last week. It’ll be just like that — but, you know, in person.”

“Right… Okay.”

“I can make us dinner, and we can watch a movie or something,” you propose and grin at the daydream of it all. You wouldn’t have to miss Eddie if he was beside you all night. You wouldn’t have to drift off to thoughts of him either, because he’d be right there. “Bowie would be stoked if you stayed over. She’s practically obsessed with you.”

The thought makes Eddie smile to himself. His heart swells at the idea that other parts of your life have already started to accept him. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy in his leather jacket and ripped jeans and chunky metal rings.

“Her mom is too, right?” he asks you, mostly playful. He smirks all smug, but his cinnamon-tinted gaze gleams with sincerity.

“Oh, obviously,” you scoff without a second thought. “Have you seen her? She can’t get enough of you…” Your teasing lilt and soft smile fades as you squint at him. “Don’t tell her I told you that, though.”

Eddie pinches his thumb and forefinger together, zipping them across his lips, then rolling down the window to toss the imaginary lock out of it.

Wind whips through the small car with vigor, making a wild halo of Eddie’s already less-than-tamed hair. The intrusion forces you to squint, even more so when you laugh.

The sound of your giggling is like glitter or sunbeams. It’s as bright as yellow and soft like summer rain. It makes him smile, too, because that’s all he wanted to do in the first place — make you laugh. It’s all he ever wants to do.

Eddie cranks the lever to roll the window back up again as you tell him: “And, you know, if you stayed over, then I could give you that reward we were talking about.”

You’ve successfully stooped to his level now: head stuck in the very depths of the gutter. Most of your thoughts are innocent, cooking for him and holding him while you slept. Others, not so much.

“And that would be…” he trails off with raised brows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you squint at him as you turn the steering wheel to pull into the bustling parking lot of Hawkins High.

The place is as wretched as it always was. It hasn’t changed a bit, just sort of deteriorated with time. The nameplate on top of the building has started to grey and the tiger mural painted on the bricks is fading, but it’s still the same. The familiarity of it all hits you with an ice-cold pang of nostalgia.

“I would,” Eddie nods a very vigorous nod, all innocent and wide-eyed, as you park on the far side of the lot. “I would very much like to know.”

You lean across the console to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “You’ll find out later,” you assure him, lingering just ahead of his face. Closer by an inch or two and the tips of your noses would nudge against one another.

“Have mercy…” Eddie murmurs to himself, eyes and limbs suddenly heavy under the weight of his desire for you.

You made him promise he’d stay sober for the exam — no drinking the night before, no smoking while he got ready. Before now, he’d been perfectly clearheaded. Then you go and look at him with that look, and he’s instantly drunk on you.

He tries to close the distance between you but succeeds only in brushing your noses together before a loud honk blares from ahead of you. It sends the two of you jerking away from each other almost instantly, heads whipping toward the direction of the too loud beep.

It comes from Steve Harrington’s maroon Beemer that he’d parked just ahead of your Volvo. Him and his friends file out one by one — Robin from the passenger, Dustin Henderson from the back, and then Steve from the driver’s side.

The former two are beaming, far too happy for it to be so early. Steve looks more like a victim to the morning as he leans against his open car door. His smile looks like a wince and he props his wrist on the door, throwing his fingers up in the place of an actual wave. Dustin and Robin are far more enthusiastic with their gestures.

You and Eddie wave a tad bit awkwardly back at them.

“Look at him,” the boy says, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. “King Steve. Carpooling his kids like a real mom.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s a babysitter first and a human being second,” you joke, then more seriously tell him: “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to, you know?”

“I know,” he nods. “But I want to.”

“Okay… I just— I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to, you know, force you or something—”

“It didn’t.”

“—I was just saying it could be nice, you know? But I feel like it sounded like I was being a little pushy.”

“You weren’t.”

“And I don’t want you to be, like, scared to say no to me or something, you know? It wouldn’t hurt my feelings or anything, okay? I promise,” you ramble, partly lying because you know it would hurt a little, but you’d never tell him that. “The ball is totally in your court, so… Whatever you want to do, it’s completely—”

Your nervous blathering is brought to an unexpected halt when Eddie brings his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks in his palms, brushing his thumbs along the apples of them. The sleeves of his leather jacket tickle your chin. He sprayed his wrist with cologne this morning, you can tell; the musky cedarwood and tobacco are more prominent now.

The boy laughs softly when the suddenness of his action makes your eyes go wide, chuckling louder when he squeezes your cheeks and makes your lips pout softly.

“I wanna come over, okay?” Eddie assures through his laughter. “And you’re never annoying me when you ask. I promise. I’ll probably say yes to just about anything when it’s coming from you, sweetheart.”

“And you’re not just saying that?” you press, words slightly muffled with the way Eddie’s holding your face.

“I’m not just saying that,” he echoes more confidently. He shakes his head at you, then moves your jaw back and forth with his palms so he’s shaking yours too. You jerk away from him with a grin.

“I’ll see you later?” he asks you while he collects his things from the floor, which is just the little tin box he carries everywhere. He swears it has everything he needs in it. You assume it’s just a dull pencil and a couple of baggies of weed he plans to sell between lunch shifts.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile.

He clicks the handle to open the car door, then kicks it open the rest of the way. He rolls his head back and puckers his lips for a kiss. You happily oblige him, meeting him halfway but turning at the last second so his mouth meets your cheek.

“Kids are watching,” you joke at his surprise.

And even though he’d only pecked your jaw, it makes Robin and Steve roll their eyes. “Gag me with a spoon,” the girl gripes as she walks past the hood of your car.

Dustin follows behind her, too preoccupied to care. He’s got an anticipatory grin on his face that reveals the blue and green braces on his teeth. The composition notebook in his hands has the Hellfire logo drawn in red and yellow sharpie on the front of it.

You’ve never met the kid, but he’s exactly how you’d expected him to be.

You heard a lot about him — from Steve mostly, but from Eddie too. Robin has the occasional story about the boy from whenever he visits Family Video. They all call him little shit most of the time, shrimp on occasion, and Dusty Bun when he’s done something particularly sweet.

It’s all from a lighthearted place, though. You figure it must be because Steve Harrington is waking up at seven in the morning to take some fourteen-year-old to school. And Eddie’s even worse — the second Dustin calls asking for a ride, he’s hopping in his van without a second thought.

The boy barely lets Eddie get out of the car before he starts bombarding him with questions about the latest D&D campaign. He prattles on and on about it while they walk towards the school, pointing adamantly at the notebook in his hands. You imagine it’s full of conspiracies and potential ways to beat the Cult of Vecna.

He’s so invested he doesn’t even care when Robin slips the cap from his hand and flips it backwards.

“Have the best day ever, kiddos!” you shout through your rolled-down car window.

You get a half-hearted wave from Dustin, but he doesn’t even glance at you when he does it. Eddie blows a dramatic kiss your way, but Robin rivals his sweetness with a middle finger and a rouge-tinted smile.

The bell chimes overhead, high-pitched and too familiar. The parking lot empties slowly, and the mindless muddled chatter fades too.

Steve saunters to your car after everyone else heads inside. He folds his arms along the passenger door as he leans down to look at you.

His hair is un-styled, but in a cool sort of way that only he can pull off. Chestnut strands fall down over his forehead while others are pushed back from where he’s ran his fingers through them. His jaw is dusted with a fine layer of stubble that sprinkles a shadow of a mustache on his cupid’s bow.

You’re both wearing the elements of your uniforms.

He’s got on a pair of faded jeans and the mandatory collared shirt, even though he swears Keith only makes him abide by the dress code. You’re wearing the all black get-up required of all Enzo’s waitresses. The flowy blouse and a-line skirt are now wrinkled from the drive over. You’re only missing your floral apron and Steve his forest green vest.

“How long until your shift starts?” he asks you, voice deep and gruff with the morning.

Your eyes flit down to the flashing clock on your dashboard, then back up to him. “I don’t have to go in until eleven today, but I was gonna see if I could pick up an extra shift.”

He nods and juts out his lips as he turns to squint down the parking lot. He looks back at you with a more hopeful gaze. “Wanna go fuck around at Family Video instead?”

And, of course, by “fuck around,” he means popping popcorn and playing some terrible, terrible slasher film on the television behind the counter that has more boobs and blood than actual plot.

You’ll stop for junk food on the way like you always do and spend the bulk of the movie tossing gummy bears and M&Ms into Steve’s mouth. You’ll waste hours talking about nothing, but it’ll feel like only minutes have gone by when it’s time for your shift.

“Are you kidding?” you scoff like it’s not the best idea you’ve heard all morning. Or maybe second best because Eddie’s proposal of a reward is still swirling around in the confines of your mind. “Of course I do.”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

By sunset, Eddie Munson’s got a B-minus on his midterm, a crowd of kids singing his praises, and a date with the hottest woman on the planet. Life, as it turns out, was really starting to look up for the local freak.

“Best… campaign… ever!” Dustin shouts. He’s still so boyishly excited about the whole thing that he has to take in deep breaths before he says each word.

The emphatic exclamation echoes through the dim, empty hallway of Hawkins High. The rest of the school had left some time ago; all that’s left now are the scraps — the basketball douchebags, the theater geeks, the D&D nerds.

The Hellfire Club gets the entire west wing to themselves, and the unusual vacancy allows them to saunter down the corridor’s length like they own the damn place.

They don’t have to look over their shoulders for assholes that might trip them or stuff them into lockers. Still bubbling with the after-effects of such an utterly sadistic campaign, they feel like they’re on top of their own little world.

Eddie Munson hasn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

He spins on the heel of his worn-out sneaker and walks backwards ahead of his friends so he can examine each of their faces. He’d unleashed the whole Vecna lives twist that he’d been keeping in his metaphorical back pocket for some time now.

You were the one that gave him the idea, sprung it out of nowhere during a smoke session so many months ago. It feels like it’s been forever now. That was back when you were just his customer, and he was just your dealer — when all you needed was a little free weed, and Eddie just needed to pass a test.

You both somehow ended up with far more than either of you bargained for, but he’s not complaining. He hopes you aren’t either.

Dustin had sort of predicted Vecna’s resurgence. He’d scribbled it down in his journal with all the rest of his endless conspiracies. Well, actually, he suspected that Kas was still a villain and hadn’t slain Vecna like they thought — which wasn’t exactly right, but it was still pretty damn close. Eddie’s never met someone who cared so much about one of his campaigns.

So, needless to say, the curly-haired boy is beaming. His green-blue braces and pearly whites are on full display, partially from excitement but mostly because he was sort of right — in a vague, roundabout way.

Mike had been enthusiastic about it too, but that was before he had to suffer through his best friend’s endless boasts. His brown eyes roll damn near to the back of his skull as he huffs, angled jaw clenching from gritted teeth.

“Well, when you spend eight hours coming up with, like, a thousand different theories, one of them is gonna be right,” he’d finally groused.

Dustin only smiled at the lankier boy, totally unfazed by his grumbling. “It’s not my fault you have exactly zero work ethic. You’re just mad you lost.”

“Yeah, because staying up all night writing in your diary makes you a real winner.”

“For the last time, Mike, it’s not a diary!”

Lucas was too far away to join in on the bickering. The boy had been distant for a while now, actually. Eddie joked that he must’ve been upset about missing basketball practice with Carver and the rest of his goons, but Lucas hadn’t laughed as loud as he’d hoped. He only chuckled under his breath, shook his head, and said it was just girl troubles.

Gareth, meanwhile, is still grumbling about Vecna killing his ranger. Even though Dustin’s bard brought them all back with a resurrection spell in the end, he doesn’t like to lose. Eddie doesn’t blame him, but he’d be lying if he said the angry scrunch contorting his best friend’s features wasn’t hilarious.

Jeff had lost his druid too, but he was a much better sport about the whole thing. He usually is, especially compared to the rest of the club. He’s perhaps the only one who doesn’t treat every loss like the end of the world.

“Well, thank you, Ser Dustin,” Eddie responds in a fanciful sort of accent, bending at the waist in a gracious brow. “But I cannot take all the credit, I’m afraid.”

Dustin’s brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

“He means that his girlfriend helped him put it together,” Jeff lisps.

“No way!” the boy gapes, totally dumbfounded. “The girl from this morning? In the car? She’s… She’s into Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Not really. No,” Eddie shrugs right before flashing a shit-eating grin. “But she is into me, so…”

The less-than-humble brag makes Gareth groan. His sandy curls fall back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, ocean eyes rolling and then fluttering closed. “If I have to hear about your stupid girlfriend one more time…” he’d griped after the first few times Eddie managed to bring you up in every conversation — about a million of them ago now.

His annoyance doesn’t lessen Dustin’s confusion. “I don’t get it…”

“Gareth's just mad because he’s in love with Eddie’s girlfriend,” Jeff clarifies once more, feigning pity as he pats the boy on the shoulder.

“All I’m saying is, I would’ve tried a little harder to get her attention if I knew she was into freaks,” Gareth grieves, a little forlorn and distantly heartbroken, but shrugging it off like he isn’t all that affected by it.

You were a bit like Steve The Hair Harrington in that way. A little like Vicki Carmichael or, god forbid, Billy Hargrove. You’ve garnered a sort of popularity that’s made you into a sideshow attraction that everyone wants to ride — literally.

You’re popular in a much, much different way than Steve or Vicki or Billy. It’s left you acutely fetishized in an extreme sort of fashion, an object of desire for many in disgusting, lurid ways.

It seems Gareth didn’t go unscathed with his lust for you either.

Well, too little too fucking late if Eddie had anything to say about it. But he would never, because that’s his best friend, so he decides to scoff and tell him: “Like she’d be into you anyway.”

“Oh, please. I’m a total catch.”

“Is there anyone she isn’t into?” Jeff chuckles, too kind of heart to realize the mercilessness in his words. “Isn’t that, like, her whole thing.”

A sharp pang of anger strikes like lightning in Eddie’s chest. It’s ice-cold and red hot, a burst of adrenaline that feels like fight or flight. His hands curl into fists before he even realizes it. If it had been anyone else and not one of his best friends, he imagines he might’ve swung before he even thought about what he was doing.

Before the words to defend you spill like venom from his mouth, another beats him to the punch.

“Hey,” Lucas scolds from a little ways behind the group, making them all turn to look at him. His brows are furrowed slightly, but the rest of his face is contorted in an unreadable way. His hands are tucked deep into the pockets of the puke-green letterman he wears over his Hellfire tee. “Leave her alone.”

“How do you…” Eddie starts, then squints past the group, gaze zeroing in on the boy. “Since when do you know my girlfriend, Sinclair?”

“She’s friends with Max. And she’s, like, really nice. So maybe we shouldn’t talk about her like that.”

The boy with the wild hair grins something wilder. His gaze is stern but no less playful when he turns back to Jeff. “You heard the kid. Leave my girlfriend alone, Jeffy.”

When the phrase leaves his mouth, for perhaps the billionth time that day, he realizes how often he must say it. My girlfriend, he says. My girlfriend, my girlfriend — because he can’t get enough of how it sounds.

With a grin on his face and his dream girl on his mind, Eddie spins on his heel again to swing open the double doors of the high school’s exit. The chill smacks him in the face almost immediately.

It’s the strange knick of time in early spring where the days are warm, but the nights are so, so cold. This one isn’t any different. A bitter breeze pounds at his chest, ruffles through his curls, and pierces the fabric of his jacket. Eddie’s body mourns the sudden loss of warmth almost immediately.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dustin continues to whinge, even though the rest of them have more than moved on. “Does— Does everyone know her but me? Mike, do you know who she is?”

The boy perks up at the mention of his name. He tends to get a little reserved unless he’s bickering or talking bout his girlfriend. The kid’s a complete and utter wreck when he’s been away from her for too long. Eddie used to make fun of him for it. Not so much anymore.

Mike runs a hand through his lengthy raven hair, then scratches at the back of his neck. His eyes squint and his nose scrunches. “Uh… not really? I mean, I think she knows El because she knows Hopper, but… I don’t know… No?”

Dustin’s face falls flat at his answer. Or lack thereof.

“Wow. Very enlightening, Mike, as always. Thank you,” he deadpans, then turns back to Eddie. His features go from deadpanned to hopeful: eyes wide, brows raised, lips quirked. “So when are we gonna get to meet her? Do you think she’d do a campaign with us? Holy shit— she could be the fairy! You know, of the Firethorns! I mean, you did just say the campaign was feeling a little empty—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it down a few notches, alright, Dusty Bun?” Eddie chuckles as he slumps a heavy arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Don’t call me that. We talked about this; that name is reserved for Suzie and Suzie only—”

“Didn’t you guys break up?” Mike wonders with a sort of blandness to his tone that only he could pull off.

“Shut up, Mike,” Dustin bites in response.

It was still a bit of a sore subject for the boy who’d just lost the so-called love of his life.

Suzie was a girl he met at summer camp about a year ago. Things were going pretty well until they weren’t. Something about her family being uber-religious and not approving of Dustin’s more agonistic disposition.

She broke up with him over Cerebro and hasn’t been on the channel since. It was cold. Ice cold.

Dustin still hikes up to Weathertop every now and then with nothing but a packed lunch and the hope that she’ll answer. She hasn’t yet.

And Eddie can make a mockery of just about anything — it’s practically a superpower at this point — but he knows when to leave well enough alone. Even the most innocent question can send the boy into a spiral of despair. Even now, he gets so suddenly weighed down by the burden of his sadness; lips turning downward and the insides of his brows curling slightly.

Eddie smiles a sad sort of smile down at the boy, but he’s too busy moping to see it. He pulls him closer with one leather-clad arm and uses the other to pat the boy on the chest. Their feet stumble less than gracefully over one another.

“Yeah, you’re never gonna meet her…” Eddie says in a mournful sigh.

Dustin blinks up at him, confused and even more hurt than before. “What? Why not?”

“Because she’d obviously like you more than me,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. “And I can’t have anyone taking my girl, Henderson.”

That confuses him even more. He was more prepared for one of Eddie’s stupid quips than something short of a compliment. It takes him by surprise at first, leaves him gaping for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Shut up…”

“I’m serious!” Eddie chuckles, all loud and boisterous. The sound echoes through the vacant lot, made somehow emptier by the cold.

He stops walking suddenly and makes Dustin stop walking too. He takes the boy a tad bit roughly by the shoulders and looks down at him like it’s the first time he’s seeing him.

“I mean, look at you! What’s not to like, huh? You got their hair, the smarts, the personality—”

“And Eddie’s only got one of those things, so you definitely win,” Gareth quips from a few feet behind them.

“Exactly! Suzie was an idiot to let you go, Henderson.”

Dustin winces when Eddie jabs him in the chest. His saddened gaze flits to the pavement for a moment, then back up again. His eyes are brighter now, but still a bit melancholy — sort of like the streetlamp that flickers across the way. A light that’s going out but grasping for reasons to stay burning.

“You think so?”

“I know so, Dusty Bun,” Eddie grins — smiling wider when the kid’s beam falls flat again. He wraps his arm around Dustin’s punier frame. It’s supposed to be a hug, but it looks more like a headlock. “Never change, Dustin Henderson. Never change…”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since he was ten.

Fifth grade. Franklin Kowalski’s place in the suburbs. Trampoline in the front yard, pool in the back, and an assortment of soft drinks in a fridge in the garage. Maybe he remembers it so vividly because it's perhaps one of the more traumatizing experiences a prepubescent boy growing out a buzzcut could go through.

He knew he didn’t belong there — not in the good part of town with a bunch of boys in brand-new tennis shoes. Eddie Munson was trailer park trash, through and through. He wasn’t used to new clothes or two-story houses or underground pools. But he didn’t care where he came from. And neither did Franklin. Not at first, anyway.

The other kids were nice enough to him. They offered him their swim goggles when Eddie didn’t have his own and made sure he wasn’t left out of any of their conversations. It was all in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, though. Their kindness was manufactured, a mask for pre-teen boy cruelty.

See, they only gave him their goggles so they could laugh when they got tangled in his curls. They only included him in conversation so he could be the punch line to each of their jokes.

All of it went over Eddie’s head. He was too innocent to realize he wasn’t being treated nicely, he was being taunted. He laughed along with each of their inside jokes because he wanted so desperately to be included, having no idea it was himself he was laughing at.

It took him until two o’clock the next morning to understand. He woke up all alone in the living room and found that everyone else had migrated upstairs without him. They were still awake, still laughing — and Eddie was forgotten in the dark.

He nearly cried when he called Wayne. He wasn’t sure if his tears were from anger or from sadness, but they stung all the same.

He punched the numbers on the keypad with a clenched jaw to keep from sobbing out loud. His gaze was still blurry with unshed tears. It made it dreadfully hard to see, and what little light spilled from the television — which had turned to static after midnight — didn’t help either.

“It’s three A.M., Eds. You sick?” his uncle gruffed into the landline.

“A little,” Eddie half-lied. He twirled the curly wire around his fingertip until it turned purple. He prayed he didn’t sound as sad as he felt. “Everyone else is asleep… ‘M scared I’m gonna puke everywhere.”

Wayne was there barely fifteen minutes later. He drove his rusted pick-up to the suburbs, found his nephew waiting on the curb, and didn’t ask questions on the drive back to Forest Hills.

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since.

He’s got a feeling this one will be different, though. Because pre-teen boys are a hell of a different kind and you’re… you.

He’s pretty sure you couldn’t be mean to him even if you wanted to be. You’re nice, far nicer than he deserves. You’re lovely and sweet and decent — every synonym of the damn word in a thousand different languages. It still floors him that it would ever occur to you to be kind to him.

Eddie doesn’t feel all that worthy of your sunshine. He happily basks in your golden rays anyway. Maybe it’s because he’s selfish. Or maybe it’s because he’s so damn pale — in both the literal and figurative sense.

Eddie packs his overnight bag without a hint of methodology.

He isn’t totally sure of what to bring as he rifles through his disorganized drawers, so he ends up packing bits of everything.

He does the sniff test for each of his crumpled-up t-shirts. The one’s that smell the freshest get stuffed to the bottom of his bag. He can’t be sure of how many he’s shoved down there now — three or four, maybe five. It makes it harder for his pants to fit, two of the pajama variety and two of denim.

He grabs multiples of everything, just to be on the safe side. It takes only minutes for his backpack to fill up. He nearly breaks the zipper trying to fasten it, and still, he worries he hasn’t brought enough.

The bag sits upright on his mattress as Eddie bends down to grab the box of condoms that’s been idling under his bed for a year. The cardboard is coated with a fine layer of dust and time. He holds it between his ringed fingers, debating whether or not to finally break the seal and bring a few — just to be on the safe side. That’s when Wayne walks in.

The man isn’t looking at him. He’s too busy wiping his oil-stained palms on an already-stained rag, but his presence is sudden enough to freak Eddie out. The boy jumps like he’s been caught red-handed, scrabbles for a hiding place almost immediately, making the box sputter out of his grip. The thing falls to the ground with a dramatic thud.

He kicks it back under his bed again.

Wayne’s eyes finally flit up to his nephew’s at all the commotion. His bushy grey brows furrow when he finds him standing upright, hands behind his back, totally not suspicious at all. Raising a teenage boy has taught the man not to comment on what doesn’t concern him, so he keeps on swiping his fingers between the fabric of the grimy rag.

“I finished looking at your van,” he says, accent deep and husky and not of Indiana origin. “Turns out that noise you were hearin’ was a damn rock in the break line.”

Eddie scoffs, then eyes a stick of deodorant sitting on his dresser. “Wow,” he marvels as he swipes the thing from its place. He stuffs it into the side pocket of his bag. “A measly pebble coulda killed me, huh?”

“Should be good to go now, though.”

“Sweet,” the boy nods.

Eddie squints as his eyes flit around his room, head darting in either direction to make sure he’s got everything. Wayne watches him with an identical squint. “Where you runnin’ off to now? You just got home, what, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Uh… I’m gonna go see a friend,” Eddie answers, voice trembling and slightly far away. He unzips his bag again to make sure it’s sufficiently filled. He does a little mental checklist: shirts, pants, PJs, shoes— how the hell is he supposed to fit shoes in here?

You’ve only got one pair of shoes, Munson, he reminds himself. Where the hell do you think you’re going, anyway? A nature walk?

“Oh, right,” his uncle nods. A smile plays on the edges of his lips, but it weirdly still looks like he’s frowning. “The friend.”

“Yeah— Well, she’s my… She’s my girlfriend, so…”

The admission makes Eddie blush in a way he isn’t typically used to. He can’t count the number of times he must say it in a day, but something about saying it in front of Wayne feels different — real.

He turns his glowing cheeks down to his bag and makes difficult work of zipping it back up again.

Wayne doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. The bright emotion is almost unfamiliar. “Well, shit,” the man’s chuckle sounds from the depths of his chest. “Look at you, Eds. My nephew’s finally got his first girlfriend.”

The boy rolls his chocolate eyes. He jerks under the pressure of the shoulder clap Wayne gives him. It’s equal parts annoying and embarrassing — to be talked to like a child in this way. Maybe because most children have long had their first girlfriends by now, and it took Eddie all of twenty agonizing years.

“We were gonna hang out at her place since I passed my English test and everything...”

The excitement washes from Wayne’s tired eyes. They widen, as though in shock, and reveal more of the glassy whites of them. He just blinks at him for a moment, like his words are still processing. “You… You passed?”

“Yep. Got a B,” Eddie nods, a tad bit sheepishly. He finds it hard to meet his uncle’s mystified gaze. “Well, a B-minus, but… Turns out, I might actually graduate this year.”

Wayne seems to experience every emotion at once. He’s surprised, of course — it makes sense. Eddie spent two years failing the damn thing, after all. Then he’s proud, overjoyed that there’s a chance his nephew might finally grow up. He’s distantly saddened by the exact same thought.

The man swallows thickly, as though to down each emotion. He nods and tries his best to smile. “Damn. Good job, kid. I’m… I’m prouda you.”

Eddie isn’t sure whether to take the praise or cower from it. At a loss, he opts to deflect entirely.

“Yeah, well, she— the friend helped me study and everything, so… I feel like we should probably be thanking her, you know?” he half-jokes as he swings the pack over his shoulder. His winces under the weight of it. “I probably wouldn’t have passed if she didn’t force me to read that stupid book. I mean, it’s 1986; who cares about the roaring twenties and blinking green lights—”

“Hm…” his uncle grunts. It isn’t an acknowledging grunt, though. It’s more of a bemused sort of grunt. And he’s got this quizzical twist to his features that makes Eddie confused too.

“…What is it?”

Wayne only shrugs, trying to act like it was nothing, but can’t help but to ask: “You’re real serious about this girl, aren’t ya?”

Eddie, feeling a bit weighed down by such a heavy question, shifts on his feet.

“Uh… A little bit, I guess. Yeah,” he stammers in the place of an honest answer. If he were being totally truthful, he would’ve said something like, “As serious as a goddamn heart attack.” But that might’ve actually given Uncle Wayne one, so he doesn’t answer with all that.

The man seems to hear all the words Eddie doesn’t say, though. He always does. Eddie figures that’s what happens when you raise a kid for fifteen years — you get attuned to their every thought like a superpower or something.

It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though. Eddie’s never been able to keep a single damn secret from Wayne because he’s a total mind reader. It’s entirely possible Wayne knew Eddie was in love before he did.

“Just be careful, alright?” the man advises. He looks genuinely concerned, eyes glinting and brows pinched, like you’re a treacherous road or poison ivy.

The misplaced cautiousness makes Eddie breathe out a soft laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds. Don’t play dumb,” Wayne tells him with a gruff chuckle — not totally unkind, just a Munson sort of curt. “You know what I’m talkin’ about. I didn’t even know her real name until you started bringing her around, 'cause all the kids at the shop call her the—”

“Don’t,” Eddie interjects sharply.

The bitterness in his tone is foreign. It contains the sort of venom he’s more like to spit at Jason Carver or Mike Wheeler if he’s being particularly dickish. Never at Wayne.

But that dormant urge to defend you rises like a sleeping dragon that just got poked in the belly. The words rise like bile in his throat and spew out before he can think to stop them.

Uncle Wayne is a weathered man. He’s seen a lot of the world, too much of it, but nothing’s ever quite taken him aback like this. He’s never seen his nephew’s chocolate button eyes hardened into something so cold.

Eddie gets all hyperaware of the heart on his sleeve and starts to crack under the pressure of it. He deflates, stern features crumbling into something softer.

“It’s different, okay?” he assures with his chin brought down to his chest — brows raised and wide eyes twinkling. It’s the same thing you’d said to Hopper not too long ago. Eddie hopes you met the words as wholeheartedly as he does now.

“And even if I explained all the reasons why it’s different, you still wouldn’t get it.”

His melodramatic tone makes Wayne scoff. “What? ‘Cause you don’t think I’ve ever been a kid in love before?”

“No,” Eddie shrugs playfully. “‘Cause you’re old.”

The foreign tension ebbs all at once with a pair of laughs. One is gruff, a couple of sharp exhales more than anything else. The other is a lighter, far more boyish giggle.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, alright?” Wayne tells him once the laughter fades.

“Yeah, I know. You always do,” Eddie lilts with a disposition that might make it seem like he’s displeased by his uncle’s constant pestering. In reality, he knows it’s saved him from a world of shit.

Like that time he wanted to get tacos from a new food truck that gave the whole town food poisoning. Or when he’d wanted to ask Tina Burton, the most popular girl in school, on a date his sophomore year.

It was Wayne that saved him the embarrassment from either. It’s like he can smell bullshit or something.

“But this is, like, the first good thing that’s happened to me since Ride the Lightning came out… So, I’d kinda like to enjoy this whole thing while it lasts,” Eddie winces like it’s a joke, but he means it more than anything.

Wayne nods understandingly. “Will do, kid. But first girlfriends are always hard, okay? Remember that. Try not to let it hurt you too much, Eds.”

His uncle claps him once, then twice, on his shoulder before swiping away the grime he’d accidentally spotted there. Eddie lets him, too far away to shrug him off. He doesn’t even move when Wayne walks out of his room.

He knows his uncle means well, but something about his cynical words makes his chest burn. It’s like he’s betting on his relationship with you not working out or something.

And Eddie knows he isn’t wrong. First girlfriends are hard. He’s heard enough shit from his friends to know that. Hell, Mike and Dustin have spent all year complaining about how complicated relationships are.

But it’s different.

Because they’re just a couple of kids and their girlfriends aren’t you.

Whatever form you come in, lover or executioner, Eddie’s more than ready to receive you.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You’ve never cooked for anyone other than yourself. And maybe Bowie.

That’s not to say you were a stranger to dining in company. Binging on takeout with Robin and Steve was routine. You’re pretty sure Benny at the diner has made more dinners for the three of you than you’ve ever made for yourselves — combined.

But it was different, to make something for someone with your own hands. It took a relative amount of care, an acute sort of attentiveness that only felt deserved for someone really special.

And Eddie was really special and then some.

There isn’t a word that encapsulates all the special he is. It makes you feel a bit guilty sometimes. You wish you were smarter so you could think of a big enough word to describe how much he means to you. But since you aren’t, you stick to making him homemade spaghetti and hope you can pour enough love into it that he feels all of yours.

Eddie arrives at your apartment before you’re ready for him.

You’d wanted to do more with your appearance by the time he came around — with your hair and your makeup and your clothes. Not because you ever had to, but because you thought Eddie deserved a girl who took extra care of herself in that way.

You got a shower in before you started cooking, but that was it. Your hair is unstyled and air-drying; your face bare and glistening in all its naked glory.

Clad in nothing but a hilariously oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks, you look more ready for bed than date night.

The knock at your door sends you into a momentary whirlwind. You scramble like someone’s seconds away from catching you naked — like there are four different fires in every direction and you don’t know which one to put out first. The panic is elaborate and fleeting, a bucket of ice-cold water on bare skin.

You figure that’s another part of caring about someone. You make them spaghetti because you love them and get nervous when things aren’t perfect. Love is all things stressful and homemade.

Eddie knocks on your door with several rhythmic raps. They’re evenly timed and spaced out. You recognize the bass line to ‘Crazy Train’ almost immediately. Da-da… Da-da, da-da, da-da. He must’ve been listening to it on the way over.

“Uh, come in!” you waver after an awkward beat. You’re yelling a little because you’re still standing at the stove, stirring the pot of noodles.

The door clicks once when it opens, then again when it shuts. The wall that separates the kitchen conceals your view of him, but you can hear Eddie’s shuffling in the living room from where you are because he’s never done anything quietly in his life.

Eddie toes off his sneakers before he heads into your apartment. You never asked him to do it, so it always confused you as to why. He’d told you, when you asked, that he knows he’s not the cleanest and that he cares too much about your space to make a mess of it.

He tells you he can’t take care of you in the way he would like — that if he had it his way, you’d never have to work at Enzo’s again; that he wishes he was rich enough so you never had to wait on snobby stay-at-home moms or misogynistic businessmen. But since he isn’t a rockstar yet and The Hideout pays their busboy’s fuck all, Eddie figures the least he can do is not leave shoe prints on your carpet.

It’s boyish and strangely profound and so, so sweet.

He drops his backpack and leaves his sneakers by the doormat like he always does. They fit neatly between the wall and the roughly textured rectangle that reads ‘glad you’re here’ on the front of it. One is upright, the other falls to its side.

Bowie blinks at him from where she idles on her perch, green eyes wide and pupils set in narrow slits. “Hey, pretty girl,” Eddie greets in a quiet coo, scooping her up in his arms. Despite her round belly, the calico weighs no more than a feather.

She meows once after being so suddenly plucked from her flower petal spot but settles into him instantly. He scratches at her chin to make her purr and revels in the soft buzzing sound she makes. Eddie waltzes into the kitchen with her, cradling her against his chest like a newborn baby.

You look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of them — at your two favorite beings on the planet, so obviously taken with one another. Bowie lolls in Eddie’s arm like he’s made of clouds and cotton candy. Her blinks are slow and lazy, her purrs audible to even you. She’s only this affectionate for him. You can’t even blame her.

“Smells good in here,” the boy compliments trying his best not to blush at the wide smile you give him. He’s still not used to being looked at so tenderly.

Failing to feel deserving of it all, he averts his chocolate gaze and flushed cheeks to the counter, where he plops Bowie down beside her half-empty food bowl.

You could only get her to eat so much of it before she got annoyed with you. Now she laps happily at the chunk of cat food like it’s the first time she’s ever tasted its goodness.

“Thanks,” you respond with a slight tremble to the edge of your voice. You turn back to the pot of spaghetti you’ve been stirring for close to ten minutes, eyeing the mixture of noodles and sauce and beef with intent because you need it all to be perfect. “I probably should’ve asked what you liked before you left this morning, but I only know how to make spaghetti, so… I made spaghetti.”

You look back at him, flashing the boy a nervous tight-lipped smile. It makes him grin, too, as he makes the terribly short trek over to you.

“Well, I actually love spaghetti,” he confesses, and it isn’t totally a lie. He just stopped caring for it around the millionth time Wayne made it because it’s one of the only things he knows how to cook too.

Eddie lingers at your side, hip pressing into the counter, radiating warmth like a sun stuck in human form. You can’t tell if he’s toasty in his leather jacket or if you’re just cozy in the honey-coated tenderness you have for him. You don’t even realize you’re smiling at him when he scrunches his nose at you.

“You should be careful, sweetheart. I’m kinda starting to think we’re soulmates.”

“That’s crazy,” you marvel, wide-eyed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Wow… We really were made for each other, huh?” he huffs with a similar sarcasm.

You try to keep the joke going, but it’s hard not to smile when you feel his hands creep around your sides. His fingers are soft on your waist, featherlight and a little unsure as he slithers along your back. The affection feels foreign on your skin. You bite back a shiver.

“Looks like way,” you affirm with a nod, tilting your head back so you can meet him halfway when he leans down to peck you.

It’s a soft and swift little thing, a brief brush of the lips that doesn’t mean anything but also the entire world. He kisses you just to kiss you — because he likes the feel of you or because it’s the sort of thing he can do now as your boyfriend. Either way, you revel in the unfamiliarity.

“Did the, uh… Did the test go okay?” you ask once he parts from you. You try not to sound like you’ve been agonizing over it all day and more like the thought had only just crossed your mind.

Eddie bites back a smile as he turns to walk to the opposite side of the counter. He makes sure any traces of the smirk have washed away when he hops onto the edge of it. The forlorn look he gives you is manufactured, all pinched browed and gloomy eyed.

“Um, no…” he fibs. “I, uh— I failed it again.”

You eye him from over your shoulder and notice how he shifts on his weight, looking down at the tile rather than up at you. It doesn’t cross your mind once that he might be joking. You just hope the flash of disappointment on your features was too quick for him to catch.

“That’s okay,” you assure and cover your chagrin with a smile. You shake your head and shrug. “We just try again, right? Not the end of the world.”

A grin tugs slow at Eddie’s lips. It’s bemused slightly and still sort of sad. He can’t believe how supportive you are of him even after he’s just told you outright that he’s failed — still loving even when he’s not good enough.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a packet of stapled-together papers. It’s perhaps the first piece of schoolwork given to him that wasn’t immediately thrown away. He’d folded it twice in half, then tucked it safely away with the intent to show you later. He unfolds it again to marvel at it once more.

The letter grade is written in red and circled twice. Ms. O’Donnell’s fancy cursive is scribbled just beside it — “Finally! Good job, Eddie! I’m very proud of you!” Even though the boy has never been particularly fond of the woman, her compliment makes his chest swell.

“Oh, shit…” he murmurs under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

“Hm?” you hum back in response. You don’t look at him, though, more focused on not burning yourself as you pull a tray of golden brown garlic bread out of the oven.

“I read it wrong…” he answers, feigning surprise. “This isn’t an F. It’s a B.”

The pan clatters to the stove when you spin around the face him. Your eyes are wide and your brows are raised, each of your features agape with shock. You’re not entirely sure how he could’ve misread it, but you’re prepared to celebrate with him anyway.

Eddie flashes you a pink, lopsided smile as he flips the creased paper around. He puts the grade on display for you with a knowing, mischievous glint in his cinnamon eyes. He’s too pretty and you’re too proud of him — you can’t even care that he was tricking you.

“Oh, my god, Eddie!” you shout with a bubbly laugh, all but launching yourself at him. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to reach where he sits on the counter. The bottom of your stomach digs into the granite as your arms wrap around his neck.

You don’t realize until you’ve locked him in this embrace that you’ve still got your oven mitt on.

Eddie bends awkwardly to reciprocate the hug, meeting you halfway so you’re not doing all the work.

One hand keeps hold of his midterm, but the palm of his free one spreads wide and warm along your back. The tops of your chests collide, soft and snug. They press together in such a way that it confuses him how he could’ve gone so long without feeling you like this — even in the most innocent way.

His chin settles along your clothed collarbone. With his nose digging into the cotton of your t-shirt, he inhales to find your warm floral scent. Eddies sighs and relaxes against you without thinking. He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever hugged him like this before.

“I’m so proud of you!” you praise, chin bopping on his shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”

Eddie chuckles softly at the severity of your hug, so full of intent — louder when you peck him on his cheek and then the rest of his face when you realize you can’t just kiss him once. His stubble is rough against the plush of your lips as you press them to his jaw and chin and nose and mouth.

He tries to kiss you back, but he’s smiling too wide.

He’s almost certain no one’s ever gotten this much loving over a B-minus.

“It’s ‘cause of you,” Eddie insists.

“No, it’s because you’re smart.”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it,” he retorts with the shake of his head, too damn stubborn to take a compliment.

His chin pulls closer to his neck when he parts from you. Your noses are barely inches apart, lips so close he can taste them. He could kiss you if he wanted, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at you.

“I’m pretty sure I only passed because I was thinking about you the whole time...”

His words trail off. He’s got a crooked smirk on his lips like he’s only teasing, but brings his ear to his shoulder and gazes at you that way — so full of love and mischief. You think he might actually be sincere.

“Eddie Munson…” you scold at his suggestive tone.

A smile dances on the corners of your lips as you pull back from him completely. You finally slip the mitten off your hand as you return to the stove, clicking the knob on the back panel until it turns off again.

“I just hope you’ve been thinking about that reward,” the boy lilts as he slips off the counter. He grins and walks until he’s leaning on the refrigerator beside you. He’s no more than a couple of feet away, but he somehow feels much closer than that. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe we agreed that I’d get something if I passed…”

Eddie’s only teasing. He doesn’t actually want anything. Spending time with you now is enough. Making you blush was just a bonus.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind, though, far more times than he’d like to admit.

And truth be told, you had thought about it, too. But that makes it sound too simple. It plagued you, really. First, it was the “oh god, what if he doesn’t pass,” and then the “what the hell am I supposed to do when he does?”

A passing grade isn’t usually that big of a deal. You’ve certainly never received anything from one. But passing a test after failing it the first two times and having to suffer two more agonizing years of school because of it certainly deserved to be celebrated.

Eddie was strange, though. He wasn’t materialistic or overtly enthusiastic about anything other than music and D&D. Maybe if you had more money, you could’ve gotten him a cassette or a new Dungeon Master’s manual. But thanks to Enzo’s salary, you’re lucky if you’re able to pay bills on time. And it sucks because Eddie deserves nice things, and not just for passing some stupid test.

You hate that you don’t have anything other than spaghetti and adoration to give him.

It’s not fair to either of you.

You’d lamented to Steve about all this over gummy bears and buttered popcorn as Slumber Party Massacre played on the tiny television above the counter. The film was ripe with blood and random nudity, but you hadn’t fully paid attention to a single scene. You don’t think Steve had either because he was too busy trying to fuse two different halves of gummy bears together.

“Okay, you just passed a test you failed two times in a row,” you tell the boy, painting him a picture of your dilemma. “Your girlfriend wants to do something nice for you, but she’s boring and poor. What would you want?”

“A blowjob,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His brows scrunch together like the answer was far easier than you made it out to be. He shrugs and squishes the strawberry head of one gummy bear onto the blue raspberry bottom of another. “Obviously.”

You didn’t think the answer was so obvious. Especially not when you’re trying to take things slow. It wasn’t an easy feat either — not with Eddie at your place, looking at you with that look. His features drip with honey as rose petal spill from his mouth. It’s like he’s trying to tease you.

He’s got no idea he’s quite literally dealing with the master of teasing.

“We’ll see how tonight goes,” you tell him, flashing him an arched brow and a knowing smirk as you drag two of your fancy, ten-dollar porcelain plates from the cabinet. “Only if you’re good for me, yeah?”

Eddie quite literally forgets how to speak.

Like, if you’d asked him a question, the only thing that would spill out would be unintelligible murmurs of made-up words.

His brain turns to mush with the look you give him — a two can play at this game kind of smirk that makes his mind melt. And your words are so effortless, so smooth, like you know just what to say and exactly how to say it to work him like a wind-up toy.

He’s in way over his head. The realization makes his breath hitch.

All he can do is nod like an idiot and let you fix him a plate of your “finest batch of spaghetti.” That’s what you call it, and he figures you must be right because you lay an entire three-course meal out in front of him. Well, it isn’t quite that extensive, but it feels that way.

Plates of pasta, a bowl of salad, and stacks of garlic bread decorate your small square dining table. Eddie almost feels like he’s at Enzo’s, even though there’s never been a world where he’s been able to afford Enzo’s.

You wine and dine him like the finest of them. Even though it’s nothing more than homemade spaghetti and apple juice in wine glasses, it makes him feel special — the kind of special people spend hundreds of dollars to feel. But he gets you for free and fuck, he doesn’t deserve any of it.

He got so damn lucky with you.

He’s done trying to figure out why. He just wants to be more grateful for it.

Once he’s pleasantly full on a home-cooked meal, you usher him to the bathroom. There’s a bag full of stuff waiting there for him — toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash — all the essential shit that he’d forgotten all about. It makes his chest ache.

It’s less so that you knew he’d forget and more so that you thought about him at all.

Eddie imagines you getting off work, still in your Enzo’s-appropriate skirt and blouse uniform, scanning the aisles of Bradley’s Big Buy for things you think Eddie might need.

It’s mundane, but so beautiful still — to be remembered in the most minuscule of ways.

“—I didn’t know what to get you, and I couldn’t afford a lot, so I just got you that 3-in-1 stuff,” you ramble as you pull the dark green bottle out of the brown paper bag on the counter. You wave it mindlessly in your hand. “I don’t know, it was affordable, and you seem like the kind of guy who might use this sort of stuff, so—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie chuckles, trying to act like he doesn’t have an off-brand bottle of the stuff sitting in his shower back at the trailer.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a giggle of your own. You shrug and sit the thing back down. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want. I just wanted you to have some stuff here so it could, you know, feel more like home…”

Your words strike something profound in Eddie’s chest, a lightning strike or a punch to the stomach. In that moment, he comes to the realization that home isn’t a place. It’s not four walls or the little trinkets that fill it. The people that make you feel all warm and cozy inside, the people that make you feel like you have a place in the world — that’s home.

It’s Wayne and it’s Hellfire and it’s you.

So it’s easy for Eddie to feel at home in your little apartment, and not just because you bought a bunch of stuff to make it that way.

He’s warmed by the hot shower and the thought that you’re waiting for him in your bedroom down the hall. The idea that he gets this night and so many others you with makes him feel all giddy — like he’s ten years old again and no sleepover has ever traumatized him.

Eddie uses everything you bought, still a little dizzied that it’s for him, but opts to use your vanilla body wash. It’s sweet smelling, with hints of deep musk and high lavender.

The scent of it on his own skin makes him feel like you’re on him and all over him. He has to flip the hot water to freezing before he steps out of the shower. Because, sure, he’s been less than shy about how much he likes you, but walking into your room with a hard-on is a bit more forward than he’s used to.

Eddie finds you waiting for him in your bed. You’re idling at the very center of it, knees up to your chest and back against the headboard, like you’ve been waiting for his return to get truly comfortable there.

You smile when you see him again. It’s that same grin you always look at him with, as though every time you see him is the first time.

He brings an air of cleanliness in with him. He's dressed in fresh pajamas, curls damp and still drying. Steam radiates off his skin along with the scent of freshly baked cookies and flower petals. It’s familiar to you because it’s yours, but it’s different on Eddie in a way you can’t describe.

“You smell good,” you compliment as he maneuvers through the velvet darkness of your bedroom. The black night is evaded only by your dim yellow lamp and the streams of orange that filter through your curtains from the streetlamps outside.

Eddie scoffs as he climbs onto your queen-sized bed. “Did I smell bad before?”

“No. You just smell sweet now. Like a milkshake.”

You shift to make room for him, pulling back your green gingham comforter so he can slip in beside you. Even though you’ve given him ample room to sit down, there isn’t any hint of distance between you. You keep yourself intently pressed to his side despite the several inches of space next to you.

Eddie hopes you never realize there’s a whole world of other places you could be than right next to him. He doesn’t ever want to see a day where you’re separated by more than an inch or two.

“A milkshake, huh?” he echos as he leans back against the slatted headboard and all your pillows. You twist until you’re practically on your side — hip digging into the mattress, shoulder propped along the cushions, chest pressed against his arm.

“Yeah. Like whipped cream or… vanilla cake…” you trail off, quickly losing interest in describing the scent of him when you’re staring the pretty boy in the face.

One half of him is bathed in shades of golden orange, the other half coated in a deep, deep navy. Eddie’s eyes are somehow darker than any night sky. They swim with their own galaxies and stars that twinkle back at you.

He looks at you and all words lose meaning.

“Yeah, I’m totally stealing your soap before I leave,” he jokes.

You shake your head at him, but smile anyway. “Thanks for letting me know, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Just like all the times before, neither of you realize you’re kissing until you already are. The gravitational pull that brings the two of you together is effortless and natural. You’re like the moon and Eddie’s like the tide — you drag him to you without trying and he bends to your every whim.

Kissing him is easy. It’s like breathing. You don’t ever have to think about it, you just do it.

You press your lips against the rosy plush of his, and it’s like taking a deep breath of fresh air. It’s an atmosphere kissed by the sun and the trees and the morning dew. It fills your lungs with a new life, makes it impossible to quit kissing him.

But when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, when his mouth pries yours open to slip the pink muscle inside — that feels like getting the breath knocked out of you. The rough pattern of his tongue slides against your own, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Your lungs stop working, your chest aches, and there’s nothing you can do about it but let the moment pass.

Eddie keeps kissing you soft, though, coaxing fresh air back into your burning lungs. He helps you breathe normally again.

You move together like entwining summer breezes. Your thigh swipes against his lap and his hands find your hips to help guide you the rest of the way over. He’s halfway lying down now and you’re looming like an unconquerable mountain above him. Your back arches like a cat’s and your palms cradle his jaw while your tongue makes uncharted territory of his mouth.

The warmth lingering between your thighs presses into his lower stomach. It makes his grip on you tighten, hands pulling your hips further against him until he hears you moan.

The pressure of your clothed pussy against the pudge of his stomach brings you a distant pleasure. What really does you in is the thought of what little separates you — just the fabric of your cotton underwear and Eddie’s faded grey Tatcher Tire t-shirt.

But it’s hard to be indulgent when you’re so stuck in your head. Your mouth moves with Eddie’s on autopilot while your mind travels elsewhere. Because this isn’t supposed to be about you — it’s supposed to be about Eddie. You want to make him feel good for a change, but you have no idea how to go about it.

The foreignness is strange. It leaves you fumbling like you’ve never done any of this before.

In a way, you haven’t. Eddie is different from any guy you’ve ever been with. Not just because he cares about you, but because you’re practically the only girl he’s ever cared about in this way.

He’s a blank slate and you’re scribbled all over.

You don’t want to taint the pristine image he’s painted of you.

“Hey, Eds,” you murmur. The words are halfway spoken against his mouth because you don’t pull away in time to say them clearly.

Your tongue darts out to feel how numb your spit-slicked lips have gotten after being kissed so ardently. You know they’re probably swollen and more vibrant in their color now. Eddie’s a lot of the same, mouth rosy and obviously kissed.

“Hm?” the boy hums back.

“Do you wanna… Do you wanna do something else?” you ask him, all slow because you don’t want to say the wrong thing. His brows furrow beneath the thin curtain of his curly bangs. The silent question eggs you on. “Would it be okay if I gave you a blowjob?”

Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment. He swears he goes blind because he doesn’t typically see white when he blinks. The question isn’t the weirdest for a guy in this predicament — with a pretty girl on his lap with his spit staining her mouth. It just catches him a little off guard.

“Would it be…” he tries to echo but trails off with a breathy laugh. You say it like it wouldn’t be perfect — to have you between his legs with your warm mouth on his cock, looking effortlessly beautiful while you swallow him whole.

“Yeah… Yeah, I think that… I’d be a total idiot to say no,” he manages to stammer out, though words have long lost meaning by now.

The sight of his glazed-over eyes, warmed cheeks, and pink mouth makes you smile. He always looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen — like you're the infiniteness of space or a deep, deep ocean — something profound he desperately wants to discover.

“I feel like you deserve it, right?” you squint down at him, partially teasing. “For a job well done, you know?”

Eddie nods until he finds the words to respond. “Yeah… Right. Totally.”

“Do you wanna lie down? Or would you rather me get on my knees?” you ask him.

Eddie swears he’s dreaming. He isn’t quite sure how you manage to say something so sinful with such sincerity.

“It might be comfortable to stay like this, but most guys like the visual of girls on their knees better so…”

There is no seductive lilt to your voice, no mischievous teasing to rile him up. It’s just a question of how he wants you, and it’s a very dizzying thought. Knowing he can have you however he wants makes his stomach all whirly and his vision start to swim like he just spun around ten times.

Eddie just blinks at you. His chocolate eyes and heavy lids flutter slowly like he’s trying to look at you through a layer of honey.

It takes him a second to answer because he doesn’t know what he wants — he rarely ever does, but now especially. How is a boy who wants you in every way imaginable supposed to pick only one?

“Uh, can you—” he starts before the words get caught in his throat. He grunts out a cough to clear it. “Could you, um… get on your, uh— your knees? Please?”

You smile at how politely he phrases it. You don’t think anyone’s ever said please when asking you for a blowjob before.

Eddie fidgets awkwardly beneath you, and you’re not entirely sure why. You’re the one that just offered yourself up on a platter, totally and unequivocally happy to do whatever he wants. He’s not the one that should be embarrassed.

You nod down at him, still grinning like an idiot. “Sure. You can stay sitting if you want. Whatever you wanna do.”

“Okay…” Eddie mumbles in response.

He watches you with wide, inquisitive eyes as you maneuver off his lap and onto the rug beside your bed. When he swings his legs over the edge of it, you settle intently between them. His cock twitches at the sight of you below him, blinking up at him with sparkling eyes that almost look like they’re begging.

Your palms settle on his clothed thighs as your knees press into the woolen rug beneath you. Your chest warms when you’re finally level with his concealed cock. It makes your heart go silly, the sheer thought of what you’re about to do. You don’t think you’ve ever been this excited to suck dick before.

You wait patiently for him to make the first move — then you realize he doesn’t know how because he’s never had to before. Instead, he’s waiting for you to tell him what to do. With button eyes intently focused on your form and hands anxiously gripping the edge of the bed, he’s entirely prepared to move however you want him to.

“Take off your shirt, Eds,” you guide gently.

He listens to you without thinking twice. His fidgeting fingers reach for the fraying hem of his shirt to yank it up and over his head. He has to tug harder when the neck gets caught around his chin.

It isn’t the first time he’s been shirtless in front of you. Between changing and heated kisses, he’s had ample opportunity to get over his lingering insecurities.

For a while there, he found himself comparing his body to all your other more prominent escapades — the Billy Hargroves and the Steve Harringtons. The overtly masculine types with bodies that scream, ‘I peaked in high school.’

Eddie doesn’t look like them. He isn’t as toned or as thin. He’s got pudge on his belly and sparse hair on his sternum in the place of defined abs and pecks covered in layers of chest hair. He doesn’t look at all like those basketball douchebags that could easily model for whatever magazine basketball douchebags read — if they even know how to, that is.

But you don’t seem to care. You love on him anyway.

Even now, your eyes rake over his bare upper half with a gaze that isn’t anything short of hungry. You reach for his face to pull him down for a ravenous kiss that does little to quell your appetite. Your fingers tangle in the drying strands of his hair in the same way your tongues do.

Eddie’s patient hands curl around the insides of your elbow as he keeps his lips obediently parted for you. He sighs into each of your eager kisses, more than content to let you swallow him whole.

You move down to his jaw and then to his neck. You nose his curls out of the way to sprinkle wet pecks to the warm skin there. You somehow manage to take your time and move with haste all at once — loving on all the places that need loving, but not lingering in one place for too long because there are too many of them to count.

The tip of your nose trails down his milky torso in time with your craving kisses. You press a final one between his ribcage, tongue darting out briefly just so you can hear his breath tremble before pulling away entirely.

Eddie’s hands remain on each of your arms as your fingers curl around the hem of his plaid pajama pants. It makes his grip unknowingly tighten.

“Wait,” he blurts with his eyes squeezed shut. You tense almost instantly. “Can you— I mean, can we, just… you know…” he trails off, voice tight like he’s holding his breath. It’s probably because he is.

“What?” you pry with wide eyes and the sick feeling like you’ve done something horribly wrong. “Is this… Is this not okay? We don’t have to, like, do any of this if you don’t want. It was just a suggestion, Eds. We can just—”

“No!” he exclaims, eyes flying open to find your panicked ones. He shakes his wild head so vigorously down at you it makes his curls sway. He both wants to quell your worry and plead for you not to stop. “That’s not it. I— I want to, okay? I do. I really… really do. I just… You’re so far away like this…”

His words drip with a soft sincerity, his honeyed eyes even more so.

Your alarm curls into a gentle smile at his reassurance.

You haven’t had many firsts in a long, long time. Your first kiss was on the playground of Hawkins Middle. Your first handjob was in the locker room of the community pool not too long after. Your first time having sex was on a towel in the grass beside Tina Burton’s pool after her birthday party when everyone else had gone to bed.

All your stereotypical firsts happened lifetimes ago, but you’ve had a billion more with Eddie.

You can say with more confidence than you’ve ever had in your life that this is the first time a guy’s turned down a blowjob because you were too far away on your knees.

“What?” the boy wavers at your silence. Your accompanying smile is somehow more frightening.

“Nothing,” you assure. Your brows pinch together as you smile up at him. “I just… I really don’t think we can be any closer than your dick in my mouth, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. His cheeks go rosy at your quip. “You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you answer softly. “I know what you mean.”

You rise again, this time planting yourself on his thigh. Your knees settle on either side of his leg and dig into the mattress below you, on top of him all over again. The position is a familiar one. The only thing different is a few months’ time and a lack of Fast Times playing in the background.

Eddie tilts his chin to peer up at you. It’s easier this way, he realizes, to be below you and at your mercy rather than above you. Sometimes he thinks you were made to be on top of him like this.

“How about this,” you lilt with a raised brow. “I can just jerk you off—”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie nods.

A giggle bubbles from your lips. “Let me finish, you weirdo. I can jerk you off, and you can just tell me when you’re about to finish.”

“Okay,” he answers right before his brows furrow. “Uh… why?”

“So you can come in my mouth,” you shrug like it’s obvious.

Your words knock the wind from Eddie’s lungs — it’s like you’ve punched him square in the stomach. Staring up at you through drooping eyelids, he swallows thickly, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s sounds… Yeah…”

You breathe out a laugh and lean closer to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. You couldn’t help yourself — he’s too damn adorable. Your fingers curl back around the hem of his pants and boxers, dragging them both down in one fell swoop to free his half-hard cock. You tuck the tops of them under his balls.

You’ve seen a lot of dicks in your time — long ones, short ones, thick ones, skinny ones — you could make a damn nursery rhyme of the variety you’ve seen. Eddie’s doesn’t particularly stand out.

It’s middling in length and in girth, not big but not too small either, with a width that won’t hurt to take but will stretch you out nonetheless.

His cock is pale and a faint strawberry red at the tip. It’s the same rosy color his cheeks get when he blushes. There’s a vein that trails up from his balls and splits like a forking river up to his bulbous head. The bush at his pubic bone is fitting for a metalhead, but it looks like he’s taken a trimmer to the chestnut hair there sometime in the past month or so.

His dick isn’t ugly and it isn’t special, but it’s perfect anyway because it’s his.

“You’ve got a really pretty cock, Eds,” you praise in a low whisper.

He thinks you must be trying to talk dirty, but your gaze gets all shy — quirked brow, curled lip, twinkled eye — like you must really mean it. You seal your compliment with a soft, lingering peck.

“Can dicks be pretty?” he asks you, the question muffled against your mouth.

“Not usually,” you blurt before you realize.

Most guys are gross. They don’t shave because they don’t think they have to. Sometimes they smell bad, too, because they never really learned how to wash themselves. Either that, or they taste overtly of soap because they shoved a whole bar of the stuff down their pants right before.

Boys tend to care less about the situation their cocks are in. Only a handful you’ve been with really knew how to take care of themselves — Eddie for one, Steve for another, and Billy Hargrove on occasion.

“But your’s definitely is,” you promise.

“Um… thanks?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question; he just never thought that exact string of words would ever be spoken to him.

It’s a little bit surreal to receive a compliment on a part of you that most people wouldn’t typically notice — like your shoulders or lips or thighs. Eddie’s almost sure you’ve complimented each of those at some point or another.

You kiss him again, both because he makes it insanely hard not to and because you know that’s the only way to get him out of his head. He’ll never get hard if he’s worried about getting hard. So you keep kissing him, letting him focus on the pattern of your tastebuds and the curves of your cupid’s bow, while you happily do all the work.

Your fingertips trail up and down the underside of his cock. Your caresses are featherlight and meticulous along his warm, stiffening skin, all but coaxing him hard.

When his cock is totally stiff and standing at attention at his stomach, you part from Eddie to bring your palm to your mouth. You spit a glob of saliva onto the center of it and let the added lubricant help your fist glide along his dick.

A stifled groan rumbles in Eddie’s throat as your fingers wrap fully around him. You’re only touching his cock, but it feels like you’ve embraced every inch of them.

The pleasure feels like static, like he’s just rubbed his socks along the carpet and he’s sizzling with the newfound electricity. He feels it in the tips of his toes and in the strands of his hair.

“Um, just to, uh… save myself the embarrassment,” Eddie cautions shakily. His voice is a few octaves higher than normal and audibly fragile. “I should probably urge you to lower your expectations—” He has to stifle a whine when you squeeze the base of his cock. “—Just a little bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m probably gonna come, like, really, really quickly,” he tells you and tries his best to laugh. It’s as shaky as the smile he gives you because you haven’t stopped touching him, even despite his warning.

Your fist squeezes his cock, then rises again. You pause momentarily to swipe your thumb over his leaking tip before sliding back down again. It’s a slow and methodical cycle that’s going to make him burst far quicker than he’d like.

“That’s okay,” you assure with the shake of your head, brows furrowed because you don’t know why that’s such a band thing. You shrug. “Just means there’s more time for me to make you do it again.”

Eddie huffs out a sigh as his cock twitches in your fist, growing somehow harder at your words.

Your unhurried pace hastens in a way that’s still obviously disciplined. Your hand moves faster until you hear his breath start to race and see his milky white chest splotch with red. Then, when his rapid pants begin to tremble, your pace goes back to normal.

You push him to the very edge of the cliff and then pull him backward before he falls.

It’d be agonizing if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His eyes have long fluttered shut by now. You miss his chocolate syrup irises, but the look of pure serenity on his face is the kind of beautiful most people pay to see. His agape mouth, bared neck, rosy cheeks, and long lashes that tickle the apples of them deserve to be hung in the Louvre.

It’s a sort of heavenly that everyone needs to admire in their lifetime, but one that belongs to only you. The sheer thought of someone else having him this way makes you angry, sparks raging orange embers just behind your sternum.

Eddie grows quiet. Suspiciously so. He isn’t moaning as much as he was before, and his chest is totally still, as though he were holding his breath. You feel his gentle grip on the outsides of your thighs start to harden. You figure the added tension helps him stay hushed. It’s less so accidental and more like he’s trying not to make noise.

“Let me hear you, Eds,” you urge in a whisper. “It’s okay. Go ahead and whine for me.”

The assurance barely spills from your mouth before he’s moaning for you. It’s a long, drawn-out whine that travels from his chest to his throat and out of his mouth, concluding in a fragile sigh.

The sound makes you double your efforts. You want him to make that noise again — you never want him to stop making that noise for you. So you squeeze harder, rise faster, and pay more attention to his rapidly reddening tip.

You’re not entirely sure what Eddie likes the most. Most guys moan louder when you do something they like, but he seems to like all of it, so you don’t pay extra attention to one place. You keep jerking his cock, faster still, even when the muscles of your forearm start to burn.

“Fuck—” the boy sighs in a heavy moan, then cuts himself off with a pitiful whine.

He tries to lift his head and open his eyes to look at you, but he doesn’t have the strength to anymore. His head lolls back again when the pleasure begins to crescendo.

Sufficiently stupid, he can’t even find the words to warn you. “I’m— I’m close, sweetheart,” he slurs lowly. “I’m… Fuck… Fuck, I’m gonna…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. His face screws up, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, as the feeling becomes almost unbearable. It’s all the warning you need.

Your fist holds onto the base of his cock as you dismantle his thigh and settle on the rug again. You don’t think twice before darting forward to lick the dribbles of pearly-white pre-come spilling from his reddened tip.

You wrap your lips around him totally, cheeks hollowing as you suck him there like he’s a piece of candy.

And Eddie dies. He passes away on the spot.

It’s the only way he can describe the feeling.

The crescendo of pleasure — that’s the life flashing before his eyes. The brief moment of numbness is the infinite void of death. The burst of ecstasy that spits from his cock in one, two, three loads is heaven.

It just has to be.

There can’t be a higher pleasure than the feeling of your mouth on his cock and the way you moan around him when his come spills on your tongue.

Eddie whines something pitiful. He loses all the previous inhibition that kept him so quiet he was too scared to breathe. One hand twists in the sheets while the other settles on the back of your hand, not pulling or tugging, just resting there as his hips buck off the mattress. He can’t tell if he’s running away from the intensity of his pleasure or if he never wants it to stop.

You don’t seem to mind that he doesn’t know.

You let his hips jerk wildly even when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and makes you gag. It does take everything in you not to laugh, however, when Eddie murmurs a fragile “sorry” through his cries.

And when his fingers knot in your hair, you don’t mind that either. You let him halfway fuck your mouth, even though you’re pretty sure he’s too far gone to notice that he’s fucking your mouth.

You don’t stop until he’s shuddering. Only when you’re sure he has nothing left to give you do you finally pull away from him. You leave a delicate kiss to the tip of his softening cock, no longer the angry red color it was moments ago. Eddie’s stomach clenches at the feeling of blatant sensitivity. His face scrunches as another feeble cry gets trapped in his throat.

You snap his boxers and pants back into place on his waist and rise.

“How was that for your first blowjob?” you ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Eddie just shakes his head in response. He flops back against the mattress, the springs bouncing under his weight, and tries to find the words to answer you.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he just saw Heaven and Hell at the same time and that you were both God and the Devil. There isn’t any string of words in any language that could explain the otherworldly pleasure you gave him with nothing more than your hand and mouth, so he decides to stay quiet.

With his eyes still closed, he can hear you laughing quietly at him while you slither in at his side. You lie beside him on your stomach. When you’re finally in reach again, he peeks his eyes open and reaches for you, pulling you toward him for a searing kiss.

You think it might be the first time he’s ever done so without asking awkwardly first — as though there was a world where you would ever turn him down. He seems to understand that now, the way he kisses you without thinking twice about it.

His tongue swipes into your mouth. The both of you moan when he tastes the salty tang lingering there. Eddie doesn’t even realize that it’s him he’s tasting at first — that the heady bitter-sweetness on your tongue is his come.

It’s less so that he’s tasting himself, and more so that his taste is in your mouth at all, that makes him exhale a moan against you. The heavy breath of it fans against your cupid’s bow.

“Oh,” you hum through labored pants when you part again. “It was that good, huh?”

“Better,” he answers with a crooked smirk on his swollen pink mouth. He’s finally able to open his eyes and see more than a blur when his high starts to subside. “That was fucking… I mean, that was… fuck…”

His speechlessness makes you giggle. Your gaze stays locked on his profile when he turns to look up at the ceiling.

“That was exactly what I wanted. And, like, I didn’t even know I wanted it, you know?” he rambles. “How did you— How did you know? How do you always know?”

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, and honestly, neither is he.

You just always know what he needs. You buy him a toothbrush because you know he’ll forget his, and when you touch him, you know exactly what he likes — even though he doesn’t even know what he likes.

It’s like you’re another half of him, and not in the stupid soulmate way everyone always thinks they’ve found. You’re an identical part of him that no one else can fit. He’s only whole with you — like a sandwich cut into triangles or halves of an orange.

“Well, to be fair, I did ask Steve what a guy would want in this sort of situation,” you admit with a scrunched nose. “I just sort of went with what he said.”

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he turns his head to peer at you again. He blinks at you for a moment, dumbfounded, then sputters. “Wait— You’re telling me I have Steve to thank for that blowjob? Like Steve-Steve? As in Steve The Hair Harrington?”

His dramatics makes you giggle. You hide your grin behind your palm.

“Hope that doesn’t change anything, Eddie Spaghetti.”

You meant it as a joke, as in, please don’t think of Steve every time I give you a blowjob from now on, but your words settle something heavy on the both of you.

Because you’ve had Steve The Hair Harrington, in more ways than most friends tend to have one another. You’ve had a lot of people like that. There are people in the world with parts of you that most only give away when they’ve found someone really, really special.

You learned about that too late. And now you feel a lot less special.

Eddie hears all your dreadful, no-good thoughts because they’re also his own.

He’s a virgin with the town slut, so he often feels like he’s drowning. It isn’t because of you, though. It’s never because of you. The number of people you’ve slept with doesn’t mean a damn thing to him; he just wants to measure up to them.

He wants to be the kind of man that sticks in your head after you’ve been with a thousand of them — the kind you can’t help but remember fondly because there hasn’t been another one like him.

He’s got no idea he’s already better than every person you’ve ever been with combined.

“No, sweetheart,” he assures with the shake of his head. The apple of his cheek rubs against the fabric of your comforter as he looks at you with eyes deeper than an infinite galaxy. His gaze holds all of its own stars, and each of them is named after you. “It doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st oneshots

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jamiesfootball · 1 year

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Season two of the Ted Lasso rewatch and I am having some string feelings. Some strong feelers. Some shrimp about Ted and Jamie and how Ted really, really struggles between being Coach Shaped and being Dad Shaped when it comes to Jamie, and how Jamie is horrible at discerning either.

(Buckle up this is gonna be a long one)

Because what we start off with in season one is very much a man who is used to being Coach Shaped. He wants the boys to be inspired and to learn about life and to become the best versions of themselves that they can be. All of which could be very Dad Shaped, but in execution they’re not.

He steps back to let people grow, and sometimes that involves letting bullies be bullies so that the true leaders of the group can step up. Sometimes it’s letting Nate roast the other players- quite cuttingly at that - to get the team motivated. He’s directing the orchestra sure, but he’s not in the pit telling people how better to get along. He’s warm and welcoming, and he tries to foster good rapport and encourage people to talk to him and open up. He, dare I say it, actually has boundaries with people. He asked Rebecca in the first episode how she was holding up with the divorce, and when she seemed upset he noted it, offered a little commiseration, and moved right along without making a fuss.

And then he calls Jamie Tartt into his office to give him a compliment sandwich (“you’re a great athlete now pass the fucking ball and then you’ll be a super great athlete okay thanks”) and I think that’s where Ted’s boundary with Jamie first starts to erode. Because Jamie unintentionally ruins his whole fucking script. Jamie’s disaffected act crumbles at the first compliment. He’s sincerely taken aback by Ted’s praise, a little nervous and a little pleading. He breaks the rules of compliment sandwiching by demurring “well I work really hard”, which forces Ted to agree which is in a way TWO compliments, and when Ted tries to push through with his critique, Jamie ends up critiquing himself first about something completely different (“my left cross”), and then Ted has to wrestle them back to the actual critique, and the whole thing is just. Definitely not the ordeal Ted thought it would be.

So from early on we have these two working at cross purposes - because Ted thinks he’s being Coach Shaped, but the Shape he is doesn’t fit any Coach Jamie has ever had.

“what’s he like?”

“Great”

“…….”

“Well great at football”

“Yeah, I’ve know guys like that.”

And in return, Ted has known ‘guys like that’, competent athletes who are a necessary part of the game, but have such egos (“I’m not sure you realize how mentally healthy that is”) that Ted thinks he has to go to his players girlfriend for insight on how to motivate Jamie in the way that Ted needs for team cohesion.

So this is Ted trying to be Coach Shaped and give this kid a wake up call and this kid is so receptive that Ted barely had to lift a finger. But it doesn’t stick.

Ok. So next he attempts to give Jamie a book that he thinks will wake him up to the reality he’s living. He gave them to everyone. He’s still being Coach Shaped. He makes Roy and Jamie sit at the same table and tries to orchestrate a truce. He kinda gets there, but the next episode they’re still at each other’s throats. Jamie listened to Ted about the one in a million / one in eleven thing, but then Jamie ignored it. So he benched him. He’s Coach Shaped; it wasn’t personal.

Except Ted is not has not been anything Coach Shaped that Jamie could recognize, and football really is his life too. So it was very fucking personal. And here’s the first wrinkle in the narrative both of them have been telling themselves, because what does Jamie do? He fakes an injury and benches himself.

If Ted doesn’t think he should play, or doesn’t think that the way he’s playing is correct, then fine- he’ll make them both miserable. He just won’t fucking play. It’s kid logic at its finest. It’s cutting your nose to spite your face. ‘Well you said I wasn’t doing it right, so I won’t do it at all.’

It’s the same shit Jamie pulls on his dad when he leaves Man City to go be a reality tv star.

And it’s the first crack in the veneer between them, because the way Ted loses his shit at Jamie for it is not very Coach Shaped, but it is very very Dad Shaped. And unfortunately it was the sort of Dad Shaped that Jamie did recognize.

It’s the first loss of control Ted has in general, and it’s circling this player that Ted can’t seem to get a grip on.

And then there’s Jamie going to Keeley, and he’s got Manchester on his mind. It’s the first time we’ve heard him talk about the council estate he grew up in, and Keeley is telling him to stop battling people who want to help him. So he goes to the bonfire. And he talks about the fucking footprint his dad left in his wake. And he talks wistfully about his mom being proud. And this isn’t just about opening up to the team, it’s also about Jamie Tartt not battling Ted. Taking a risk that even if Ted isn’t very Coach Shaped, even if he appears closer to Dad Shaped than Jamie would like, whatever Ted is - Jamie is probably safe to be a little honest.

It’s not very Star Athlete With An Ego of him; but it’s very very Son Shaped.

“I was just starting to get through to him.”

Ted’s anger with Rebecca could be Coach Shaped. It could be. But it sure hurt him enough that it’s the first time he’s actually angry with Rebecca. Meanwhile Jamie was so hurt he had to tell everyone who would listen about it. Had to iterate that it was good riddance on being rid of Ted Lasso, because at least Pep was a proper Coach Shaped Coach. Someone who’d drill Jamie on the technicals. Someone who probably never once cared enough to pull him aside and tell him if he did a good job. Someone who probably assumed that’s what Jamie’s dad was for, showing up after matches.

“Good luck out there, Jamie!”

“Fucking mind games.”

Whatever Jamie already thought of Ted as a coach must’ve been rolling in the pit Jamie tried to bury it in, because Coach Shaped men don’t cheer you on when you’re playing for the other team. Pep wouldn’t do it if he still played for Richmond.

And maybe Coach Lasso does it for everyone he coaches. Probably. But it’s a very Dad Shaped thing. And fuck, Jamie’s actual fucking dad doesn’t cheer for him at all when Jamie isn’t playing for Manchester, so how’s Jamie supposed to know what it means?

Then there’s Ted, who just can’t help himself. Who can’t help but see potential in Jamie. And when he sees Jamie after the match, it’s a quick war on whether he should speak to him because in that instance Coach mode and Dad mode are in alignment.

Except reality hits as hard as a boot against the wall, because Jamie has a dad. And it’s not Ted. It’s not someone who’s come to tell him well done, or that he’s proud of the baby steps Jamie has taken, even though he’s been left to walk them alone. It is the opposite of what a father should be, but it’s taken up the mantle. Father Shaped. A thing of fury. A role fulfilled, not looking for new applicants.

Coach wins in that moment. Ted turns and walks away, and Jamie can finally see now in Ted Lasso the Coach Shape he’s familiar with.

Except even that can’t stick around and be familiar can it? Because while no one was looking, the Dad Shape in Ted scribbled him a little message. Left a note in his absence to let him know he was proud. Sent Beard with an army man, someone to lookout for Jamie and keep him safe. I’d say at this point a Ted Lasso couldn’t’ve drawn a line between Coach Shaped and Dad Shaped - this was a matter of pure human empathy, and decency, and an apology in its own way. I’m sorry for the roles we’ve been given. I’m sorry, but please know I care.

He walked away from Jamie and his dad. He didn’t have any obligation to Jamie. There was no more match to be won. Any involvement of Jamie Tartt in Ted’s life coulda woulda should’ve ended there.

“There’s something out there worse than being sad, and that’s being sad and alone. And ain’t nobody in this room alone.”

The look on Jamie’s face in that scene says it all. Because he is alone, but Ted clearly (desperately) doesn’t want him to be.

But being alone is better than being stuck in a room with James Tartt Sr.

Jamie doesn’t go to Ted first after Lust Conquers All. Why would he (think he had the right to)?

The first thing Jamie does do (after Keeley tells him it’s ok to go to Ted) when he meets Ted again is show him the Ted (Danson) Soldier. Ted may have made the gesture, and Jamie may have understood the meaning of it, but he does Not understand Ted. Not this Coach-but-Not-a-Coach. Still Jamie thinks he has the distinction down - what soft underbelly he thinks he needs to bare for this type of Coach to believe him when asks for a chance to come home.

“You were getting good minutes up at City.”

Ted redirects Jamie here in a very Coach Shaped way. He guides Jamie into admitting the real reason why he quit. He hears Jamie out, makes observations about how Jamie coming back would work from a team perspective, and makes only occasional eye contact. This is Ted clinging to a role that he’s used to, the one that comforts him in its ability to help other people.

(If there is something Dad Shaped in that scene, it’s an awful, haunting one. Not the one that Jamie grew up with, but the one that Ted grew up with. The one who took his son to play darts every Sunday for six years, who probably sat next to him and drank beer the way Ted does)

But Ted never set out to be anyone’s dad. He’s their Coach, and he has a responsibility to everyone on his team. It’s nothing personal; he’s just being a Coach.

They clink glasses. Cheers, and best of luck to your future endeavors.

There is something very tired about the way Jamie puts down his beer without taking a sip. He looks lost. He does not look surprised. (How could you have expectations for something you’ve never known? And how come that doesn’t make him feel any better about it?)

We don’t see Jamie after that.

We see Ted at training, worrying about Dr Sharon watching the team he’s made. He worries that she’s getting closer (metaphor). When Sam storms off the field, Ted is startled but relieved to follow. He doesn’t want self examination. He wants to be Coach. He wants to embrace the parts of coaching he’s always loved- helping other people improve and be better.

Sam tells him that he doesn’t want Jamie back on the team, and there’s a split second of relief from Ted because he made the right call.

Then Sam talks about his father, and how his father is grateful for Ted because with Ted around, he knows his son is safe. Because this has nothing to do with being Coach Shaped. Coach Shaped he may be in Sam’s life, but here’s Sam, who is very Son Shaped himself, and his father agreeing that Coach Lasso serves a greater purpose in Sam’s life than just being a supportive motivator. In their mind, in the absence of a father, Ted Lasso will do just fine. He will keep Sam safer than any little green army man.

That’s the final inexorable blurring of the lines for Ted, where the coach finally drops the ball to pay attention to the scraped knees that have been left behind.

Ted calls the Diamond Dogs meeting. Coach Beard and Coach Nate are very Coach Shaped indeed. What about the teamwork, Ted? “He’s the poop in the punch bowl.” Leslie is for bringing him back, but it’s for football reasons. It makes managerial sense.

But none of it means anything to Ted because at that moment he can not find it in himself to be Coach Shaped.

“I thought it was settled, but Sam went and unsettled it.”

“He reminded me that not everyone is lucky enough to have a good dad.”

“In sports aren’t we always on about second chances? Shouldn’t that apply to people too?”

This is not Coach Shaped. In some ways it’s not even Dad Shaped. But it is caring, and empathy, and wanting an excuse, any excuse, to try again. It is Love Shaped.

Ted Lasso is a coach to his team and a dad to a great little boy down in Kansas, and for Jamie Tartt he can try to fit on a third extra thing. Whatever that thing is called. Neither of them know what that thing is called. They’re too familiar with Coaches and too unfamiliar with Dads to know the difference.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #good grief this is long #ted lasso rewatch

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heavenlyhischier · 7 months

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who i am | nico hischier

word count: 1.2k

warnings: talks about feeling insecure

note: i’m self projecting in this but idc enjoy my little blurb

Everyone you’ve ever met in your life has made you feel difficult to love in some way. Your parents made you feel like you weren’t doing good enough in school and their disappointment constantly weighed on you. Your friends made you feel like you complained too often so you stopped talking all together. Your ex-boyfriend made you feel like you asked for far too much in the relationship and it left you questioning if you were even worth doing those things for.

You spent the majority of your life doing what you thought what other people wanted, and being who you thought other people wanted you to be. You’d long ago lost sight of who you wanted to be, so you made the decision to move far away from your hometown and away from everyone you’ve ever know to restart your life.

When you moved to New Jersey, the last thing you expected was to meet someone who made you feel welcomed and wanted. From the moment you met Nico Hischier, he was attentive and kind; always making sure you felt included and were comfortable whether you were alone or in a group setting. However, no matter how hard you’d tried to ignore it, the nagging feeling in your chest that it was too good to be true was always there and it never let him get too close.

The night of your birthday was the first time you took a step forward towards letting yourself when it came to your feelings for Nico. He and Mariah, the truest friend you’ve ever had, had booked out the entire back half of a restaurant to surprise you with the best celebration you’d had. You’ve never smiled so much in your life when you saw Nico standing at the front of the group with a smile just as big as yours.

You’ve never felt more content with the way your life was headed than in those moments. You were surrounded by people who’ve never once made you feel inadequate or like your voice wasn’t heard. Though, an accidental overheard conversation had you leaving the night with more on your mind than you were ready for.

“Nico,” Mariah sighed, “It’s not that she doesn’t feel the same way, it’s just— You have to understand that every person she ever thought loved her has hurt her in some way. She’s scared that if she lets herself fall for you, that you won’t fall with her.”

“I already have,” He looked down, the necklace he’d bought for your birthday dangling between his fingers.

“I know, but it’s not that simple for her. She’s worried that you’ll lose interest because she knows that you have so many women practically throwing themselves at you and you’ll find someone better.”

“There is no one better,” He firmly stated, his eyes softening as he looked at the girl in front of her, “I’ll spend however long I need to proving that to her.”

And that he did. Truly, though, it was no different than what he had been doing before. He was texting you whenever he could, asking you how you were doing and how your day was. He was making plans for the two of you, plans that you didn’t have to worry about helping with because he’d done it all by himself. He was complimenting you all the time, making sure you knew that he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

Nico wasn’t pressuring you to be in a relationship with him. In fact, he was letting everything go at the pace you were most comfortable with. He kept the lingering touches to a minimum, never stayed at your house too late, and he would only discuss your feelings for him when you brought it up.

You’d been tossing and turning all night, mind clouded with thoughts of the hockey player who you’re positive you were in love with. He was all you could think about these days. His smile. His laugh. His eyes. His voice. Everything about him. But nothing quite consumed you the way he made you feel.

Right up until you fell asleep, you told yourself over and over that tomorrow you were going to tell Nico how you felt no matter how scared you were. You can’t let fear dictate your life or you were destined to be unhappy. You jumped head first into moving your entire life, now it was time to jump head first into letting yourself love again.

The following morning, you woke with the same determination you fell asleep with. You quickly got ready and ate breakfast, ignoring Mariah’s stare as she watched you literally bounce around the house with a giant smile on your face. She didn’t say anything as she handed you your car and practically ran out the door so you could be on your way to Nico’s before you talked yourself out of it.

“I never felt happy with who I am, until I met you,” You started as soon as Nico had opened the door, tears instantly lining the bottoms of your eyes, “The moment I met you, I knew I was right where I needed to be, and that terrified me. I’ve only ever known the kind of love that leaves you hurt, and I’ve guarded my heart with these steel walls because of that. You crumbled those walls like they were made of paper. Nico, I do love you.

“I do and yes that scares me. Yes I’m scared that you’ll find someone better. Yes I’m scared that you’ll lose feelings for me, but someone once told me that I can’t live my life in fear. Or maybe I heard it in a movie. I don’t know. I just want you to know that I love too hard and I care too much, and that can be difficult—”

“Stop,” He interrupted, pulling you into his apartment.

Your eyes widened and your heart fell into your stomach. Was he about to tell you that he didn’t love you? Was your confession too much? Did you say the wrong thing?

Noticing the way your entire body began to shrink, Nico took your face in his hands and looked into your eyes, “Nothing about you is difficult, schatz. Falling in love with you has been the easiest thing I have ever done. There is no such thing as caring too much. There is no such thing as moving too hard. You are passionate and you are you.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as he spoke, but they were tears of happiness. The feeling that had been budding in your chest blossomed into full bloom as Nico held your face in his hands. He brought his face closer to you, his nose brushing against yours and his forehead pressed against your own. Your eyes fluttered closed as you basked in the feeling of finally letting go of your fears and letting yourself love and be loved.

idk if this makes any sense bc im so tired so im sorry if it doesn’t

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurb #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader

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accio-victuuri · 3 months

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WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS, MAKE A LEMONADE 🍋🍋🍋

this post is connected to the whole cotti drama that i talked about here & here. the brand has since then posted their statement and apologized, and make no mistake, this has nothing to do with cpf and even if they are szd. it’s all about pr damage control and wanting to gain back the loyalty of wyb’s core fans. i wanna say (sadly) this is not something new in c-ent. so/o fandoms do this all the time, they want the “best” for their idol so they throw tantrums and stage boycotts. what a lovely group of people, nope. brands (should) know this. that popular idols bring in their fandom/money, but one misstep can be a huge problem. for example with cotti, they had a collab with dove last year (august 2023) , xz was already endorsing them at the time but wyb wasn’t. so it’s not like this was done out of nowhere. they just did a repeat collab. but we all know the difference now.

i made a boxiao endorsement cpns post before and consider this as a continuation. cause funnily enough, some so/os started digging up previous “incidents”. thank you for giving us more examples i guess…. 😂😂😂

lemme make a lemonade out of this then!

i will start with this reaction from a passerby because of the hs tag that went on earlier:

There is Cotti downstairs in the company, ever since WYB’s endorsement, there are so many people who buy itevery time. My children also like Dove chocolate.

I saw the hot search today and I was very curious, so I checked 1005. Why can't it be stuck? Isn’t business cooperation normal? Why do fans keep making trouble?

I'm just very curious, so I searched about the product again. WYB and XZ are tied. That’s it! I didn’t know they were in love before!

LOL OMG HAHAHAHAHAAH IM CRYING 🤣🤣🤣 Please!!! If some people just kept quiet then it would be fine. CPFs are such a small group of people that were only commenting on the collab and buying products. So i don’t know what’s the problem. I understand how some fans are sensitive with how WYB is perceived in relation to XZ. and that they don’t want him to appear like he needs XZ to succeed. but aren’t these toxic fans the very people who should know that it isn’t true? both boys are where they are now because of their own merit.

It’s hilarious cause the normal passerby just found out that WYB and XZ are “in love” lol all because of people over reacting.

These are legit brands doing this. CPNs are for CPFs. you know what, sometimes, so/os are so much better at picking up cues like this 😂😂😂😂

THIS SISTER GAVE EXAMPLES OF WHEN WYB ENDORSED BRANDS USED 10:05. cause apparently, XZ owns this number and time.

Redmi (p2) posting at 10:05 for the new year greeting and K70, Lowen (p3) doing the same and setting 10:05 as the time for sales to be opened. I already talked about shu uemura in my old post so better refer to that instead. Chanel (p7) selling perfume and how you can customize it, the example on their website is 肖战. i didn’t even know that happened. lol. i’m such a bad cpf. 😅😅😅

let me expound on p6 cause the photo is too small.

it says WYB got stuck at 10:05 card point 9 times.

so the examples are ariel (bilang), redmi, stride, ping an and then yibo himself. i think the example could the legendary colgate post ( if you know, you know. it’s a big fandom cpn ). and last is richora using 10:05 on their watch. so suspicious lol. must all be connected to XZ! i don’t get it! who is the cpf now??? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

here are some more! this time, XZ brands/magazines trying to associate themselves with WYB by using the time 18 ( yibo ) or 08:05 p3 is crest. p4 is kxz and p5 is zhenguoli.

next is this one they dug out for GUCCI. it’s a customized tag. dude. why? do people really think this is a backhanded way from GUCCI trying to tie XZ and WYB? lol. This is obviously a CPF who bought from them and wanted that to be on there because they are a customer! Should GUCCI screen that? make sure every single customer doesn’t associate XZ with others? Make it make sense 🤪🤪🤪

li-ning using a design of someone skateboarding. lol. the brand has had their own street wear and skateboard line for some time now. and then breo japan tagging wyb on their twitter. which is i guess, more of a mistake on whoever their social media person is. they wanted more likes and saw xz and wyb are usually tied together so they added wyb.

lastly, the game xz was promoting before using 85. and then pokemon x dove collab. which is again — makes me go what??? pokemon is such a huge brand that companies love to collab with. as a cpf, i have boundaries when it comes to cpn, i even have disclaimers but i guess solo fans don’t. everything must be related! 👀

i guess there are more examples but these are the ones i have been seeing from so/o fans as proof. of what exactly? i don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ coincidences for a lot of these and not an attempt to associate with someone. i can understand why some brands will do it back in 2019, during cql promos, because it was expected and they were actively promoting a show together.

so what are cpfs doing now? well. supporting cotti ( sample video here ) coffee as fans should and enjoying the unintentional candies the solo fans have prepared for us 😌😌😌

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #ITS TOO EARLY FOR THIS LOL #LET US HAVE A GOOD WORK WEEK AHEAD #those of us who have lives of our own and do work vs those who only have time to throw tantrums online

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heliads · 4 months

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because I'm in the mood for Pain could i request a nikolai fanfic with a grisha reader. they were childhood friends, but then one day reader was captured by fjerda and after they find the cure for parem they come back to ravka and don't think they're good enough for nikolai because they were too weak to resist the drug. i hope you're having a lovely day!

'only in my dreams ' - nikolai lantsov

masterlist

There’s an old saying, one that’s been tossed around by generations of practitioners of the Small Science and otkazat’sya alike, one that you’ve heard since you were small and keep hearing as you get older. There’s no good place to be a Grisha. It’s been used as a weapon and an assurance at times, a claim that you don’t belong and a reminder that life doesn’t really get better, so you might as well enjoy who you are wherever you are.

Right now, though, it just feels all too real. When you were a child growing up in the middle of nowhere in the Ravkan countryside, no one trusted a Grisha. When you were brought to Os Alta to train in the Little Palace, the glimmering city didn’t feel like a home either, just a place where you would be brought up to fight in someone else’s wars. You could go anywhere you want, but it would never quite be enough. You find your home in people you trust, but no place will ever want a witch.

And, rotting in a Fjerdan cell, you think it’s especially true now. You pity the Grisha who were born in Fjerda, and wonder how they would have managed to grow up in a country whose own army was dedicated to the cause of hunting them down. It wasn’t all that great to grow up empowered in Ravka, either, but at least there was somewhere for you to go once you were discovered, and that was the Little Palace. In Fjerda, the only place that newly discovered Grisha go is the grave.

That, or the cells, and right now you’re wishing that you were six feet under instead of here right now. Other than wanting them dead, the Fjerdan government seems fascinated by just how Grisha work. They’ve managed to get their hands on jurda parem, and you’re a part of their latest batch of test subjects.

You last received the drug a few days ago, and already the debilitating ache of withdrawal is starting to press against your bones, tearing against your sinews and skin until all you can think of is when you last had it and where you could get some more. The Fjerdan scientists are single-minded in their approach to treating Grisha with parem; exact doses are carefully measured out and only delivered in the precise windows of time that they desire. Once medicated, the captive Grisha will have their hands unchained for slim opportunities to practice their gift, most likely to build or destroy or torture other captives as directed by the Fjerdan guards.

Eventually, the parem will wear off, and then you’ll be back to where you are right now: curled into a corner of your freezing cell, desperate for warmth or parem or anything more than this heavy, never-ending horror.

You used to be more than this, you know. You used to be a proper Grisha, one who could never imagine themselves as you are now, exhausted and starving and addicted to a drug no one even knew existed until just a short time ago. You had been brought to Os Alta when you were quite young, so for the most part, the Little Palace was the only life you had ever really known.

And what a life it had been; your mind drained by the constant tests of parem, you slip into a dreamy half-sleep, letting the memories cloud your consciousness so you don’t have to think about whatever horrors await you.

Os Alta had been beautiful. Ravka has been a struggling country for quite some time, and will likely go on eking out its days one by one for quite some time, but the royal family spared no expense on its capital city. Even the Little Palace, the smaller and humbler variant of the Grand Palace, was intricate and masterful, a testament to the artistic prowess of the Ravkan people when its creators went long enough without hunger pangs to focus on their craft.

You can almost imagine you’re there if you close your eyes. The sensations come back to you as if in a dream: the rustle of your kefta as you walk, the smooth edges of the cobblestones where they’d been worn down by hundreds of feet, the sharp voices of your tutors, the thrill in your veins as you used your powers. You can still remember when it had been a joyous thing to use your powers uncorrupted by parem. Now, every tug to the making at the heart of the world feels like a betrayal of your own people, a sick and terrible thing that should not be practiced by any living thing.

You turn your mind away from that harsh reality, opting instead to remember the good days, the golden memories when the worst thing you could imagine was doing badly in one of Botkin’s training sessions. Since you’d been at the Little Palace since you were small, you had plenty of friends across the branches of the Small Science, plus one extra boy whose eyes used to shine like sunlight off of the True Sea. He wasn’t a Grisha though. He was–

He was a prince.

Nikolai Lantsov wasn’t supposed to visit the Little Palace. Truth be told, he wasn’t supposed to leave the Grand Palace at all except when instructed by the king and queen or one of his tutors. However, the young prince didn’t seem to care for rules, and rare was the day when he wasn’t sneaking off to pass days by his own volition. More often than not, his errant path brought Nikolai to you.

The two of you had been friends for years. Never mind the fact that a friendship between a Grisha and a prince would be strictly forbidden, no one ever caught on and the two of you were quite obliged to keep it that way. Nikolai was brilliant in mind and spirit. When you think about the happiest you’d ever been, the days you wished could stretch on forever, it’s the time you spent with Nikolai that was the best of all. Sometimes, you snuck him an extra kefta and the two of you would explore the Little Palace, or you’d run around the countryside surrounding Os Alta. You’d swap stories and little trinkets or gifts, and you’d smile like everything was alright, because when you were with Nikolai, it was.

Then he got older, and you did too. Nikolai stopped being able to visit you as often. You grew through the ranks of the Grisha, and were sent on missions with increasing frequency. Sometimes, you’d be away from Os Alta for months at a time, and only come back to find out that Nikolai had just left on a similar errand. Your paths started diverging, and even though every time you saw him, it was like the days hadn’t passed at all, both of you had growing up to do, and unfortunately, that didn’t involve each other.

You still held out hope that maybe he would become king and find a way to loop you back into his busy days. Just recently, he had returned from his years at school (and, as the rumor has it, at sea), and you had hoped that maybe you’d be able to spend more time together. All you had was one more mission, then you’d be back in Ravka for many months. Surely you could use that time.

The Fates didn’t seem keen on that happy of an ending for you, however. Your mission went awry. Fjerdans intercepted your group. You distracted the enemy soldiers long enough for the rest of your party to get away, but you were captured and brought back to Fjerda. You had assumed you’d be killed, but instead, you were sent to their experimental division and given your first dose of parem.

So the angels fall. Now, the idea that you could be remotely close to a prince’s best friend is laughable. If you could see him now, you have no doubt that he would still be the same golden, glorious boy he had always been, now imbued with the confidence of years wearing the crown. By contrast, you are huddled in a cell, your powers harshly amplified by the corrupting influence of jurda parem.

No, Nikolai Lantsov certainly wouldn’t want you now. The only way you can have him still is in your dreams, those beautiful fragments of imagination in which both of you are still young and blameless. He hasn’t fled Os Alta for a false name and a life at sea. You haven’t been captured and forced to undergo cruel tests. Both of you are happy and whole, and nothing bad has ever happened to either of you. What a dream indeed.

A dream, but dreams are all you have. The dream of being back with Nikolai is a good one. So, too, is the dream that someone will come to take you out of this place. You’ve had this one many times before, and it slips over you like sleep. It would happen quickly, the break-out. The Fjerdan guards would shout in surprise, then be quickly silenced. You’d hear the rattle of fast footsteps, and the door to your cell would fly open. All doors would be open, and all Grisha would live. You’d run far away, to a place that would finally want you again. All would be well.

You’re comfortable with it, not bothering to open your eyes lest you lose track of the dream. Only– maybe the parem is still lingering in your system, because you swear the faux sounds of fighters are louder than they usually are in the dreams. It’s not real, but the shouts do seem real, don’t they?

It’s not real. After all, parem has a way of messing with your mind. Many times during your captivity, you’ve thought you’d seen someone from home only to realize differently during the cloudiness of withdrawal. This is the same as that.

However, when the door to your cell clangs open, you feel the reverberations through your skin and bones, something that never happens when the Fjerdans come to get you. Your eyelids fly open and you scramble back against the wall, watching with terrified eyes as soldiers hurry to you. One’s in Ravkan fatigues, but the other is a Healer in a red kefta.

“You’re not real,” you grit out, teeth pressed together.

She shakes her head sympathetically. “I am, my friend. We’ve broken you out at last. Here, I have the cure.”

She holds out a syringe pre-loaded with some sort of substance. You snap back when you see it, too familiar with Fjerdan tricks of trying to inject you with different medicines. “Don’t you dare get that near me. I know what you do.”

The Healer jerks her chin towards you. “Hold her,” she says to the soldier.

You scream, a high, drawn-out sound, and do your best to fight, but your captivity has left you frail, and he’s able to subdue you after minor effort. The Healer pushes the needle into your veins, and you wait for something terrible to happen, another grievous experiment to begin in your body, but the strangest thing happens: you feel better.

You stare up at the Healer. Your mind feels clearer than it has in days, and, impossibly, you can feel your strength returning. “What is that?”

“A cure to jurda parem,” the Healer tells you. “Sincerest apologies that it’s taken this long to get to you.”

You’re guided out into the corridor, where you join the former occupants of the surrounding cells. All of you regard your rescuers and each other with the same incredulity and faint excitement. Is this really it? Are you finally out?

The ride back to Ravka should be long, but it feels as if it’s over in the blink of an eye. Several times, the rescue party stops at safe houses along the way, giving all of you opportunities to wash up, get new, warm clothes, and eat and drink to fix the gnaw of hunger that clings to all of you. By the time the gates of Os Alta swing wide to admit you, you’re almost feeling normal again.

Almost.

The torment of your time in the Fjerdan cells will stick with you forever, and the awful memories of what it had been like to be under the influence of jurda parem. However, the Healer’s cure worked well. When you try to use your abilities, they work the same as they had before the awful drug was first administered to you. By all accounts, you’re back to normal, even if your mind doesn’t entirely feel that way.

The driver calls to your group that you’ll be arriving outside the Little Palace shortly. “King Nikolai will be there to greet you,” he announces over his shoulder.

Excited whispers surround this, and you can’t help but listen in intently. “Nikolai Lantsov will be there?” One girl giggles by your side.

Another smiles in encouragement. “They say he’s been observing each coach that brings back rescued Grisha from Fjerda. It’s like he’s looking for someone. Maybe an old friend?”

You feel your stomach chill, the warm delight of rescue starting to cool off again. You have no doubt that you’re the one Nikolai is looking for; he had told you many times that you were his favorite Grisha by far, even when he was briefly engaged to the Sun Summoner for purely political reasons, but you find yourself hoping he doesn’t find you when you get out of your coach.

It’s not that you don’t want to see him, you do– the idea of being with Nikolai again had sustained you through your time in the Fjerdan cells better even than food or drink, but the fact remains that you are no longer as you were in your memories. You are no longer someone that a king would care to see. More so than just your weakened frame, your disorganized mind– you were captured on a mission, and you succumbed to jurda parem. In the back of your mind, a cruel voice whispers, pathetic. Nikolai will be spending his time with the finest diplomats, the noblest princes and princesses. He will not want a Grisha who could not hold out against a drug.

You gather your borrowed cloak about you, pulling the hood down over your face. It’s a size or two too large for you, by virtue of it belonging to someone else, and right now you’re glad for the extra fabric to disguise you. Nikolai is looking for a ghost, and probably out of necessity. He’ll likely be relieved that he won’t have to handle you like a difficult situation.

The coach pulls to a stop. Many rescued Grisha are crammed inside, so you blend into the crowd as you all pour out. Other Grisha from the Fjerdan prison are there already. It’s easy to slip amongst their ranks, keeping your head down. Nikolai is there in front of you as promised. His head is tilted up slightly, his gaze sweeping row after row of visitors. Maybe he isn’t even looking for you at all.

Then, his eyes catch yours briefly. Immediately, you look away, and start backing through the crowds again, trying to lose his gaze. When you feel it’s safe to look again, you breathe out quiet relief when you notice that he’s still scanning the crowd where you had been. Lost him. It’s a victory, but it’s an awful pain nonetheless.

Once everyone has arrived, Nikolai says a few kind words about how he’s glad everyone has returned home and how apologetic he is about the time it took to get you all back. No one seems to hold it against him, though, and how could you? He rescued you in the end, and managed to get you the cure to jurda parem to boot. It’s a fine success if you’ve ever seen one.

Nikolai releases you to the Little Palace to rest. Grisha stream past Nikolai, but he doesn’t stop to talk to any of them, looking again for someone. For you, maybe. You pull the hood down low again. If you move quickly, maybe he’ll miss you. You give him a wide berth, keeping your eyes low. You’ve almost made it to the edge of the courtyard when you feel a hand rest on your arm, carefully pulling you to a stop.

You don’t look up, not at first. You don’t have to look to know who it is. You’ve known Nikolai for years. You would know how he walks, the precise pattern of his boots against the cobblestones. You would know how the breath hitches in his throat when you’re reunited after too long a separation. You would know how his hand feels on you. You’ve dreamed of it a thousand times, but this isn’t a dream anymore, this is real.

“Excuse me, moi tsar,” you whisper. Maybe he doesn’t know it’s you yet. Maybe you can still escape with your dignity intact.

Any hope you had of avoiding recognition vanishes in an instant when Nikolai murmurs, “Y/N,” in such a desperate voice that you feel you could hardly move if you tried.

You stand still. A strong wind could blow you over, maybe. You watch the ground as Nikolai’s boots cross the ground to stand in front of you. His other hand rises to brush your hood back from your face. A gasp is ripped from his lungs as he takes in the sight of you.

“I look that bad, then, do I?” You can’t help but laugh quietly. It’s a bitter sound. You used to sound happier when you laughed with him, you think. A lot has changed.

Nikolai’s hand leaves your hood, drifting to your face. He raises your chin with a soft finger until you’re looking him in the eyes again. “Not to me,” he says, voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

A quiet scoff escapes you. “I have been a prisoner of Fjerda for months, moi tsar. I doubt that was conducive to beauty.”

“You’d be surprised,” he tells you. Then, a bit more insistent, “You don’t need to refer to me with a title, Y/N. You didn’t when we were little.”

“I didn’t know better,” you say. It’s not quite true, and he knows it.

“Don’t say that,” Nikolai pleads. “We were friends, excellent friends. Now we’re older and you’re avoiding me. Why?”

You look away again. “Don’t ask me that,” you say with a laugh. You meant it to be a joke, but it comes out as a plea.

“I will,” he insists. “I have always been stubborn, you know that about me. Stubborn enough to search every single Fjerdan prison my spies could find when you went missing. Stubborn enough to stand here and wait in the cold until I could find you. And certainly stubborn enough to wait here with you until you tell me why I’m no longer good enough for you.”

This, at last, is enough to make your eyes fly to him. “That’s not true,” you insist hotly. “Quite the opposite, in fact. You’re a king and I’m a Grisha. And a Grisha that couldn’t even withstand jurda parem, to be specific. Saints, you win wars and I lost the first one that ever came to me. If there is anyone that has ever been insufficient, it would be me.”

The hand on your arm slips down to your fingers, and Nikolai squeezes once, twice. A heartbeat. A prayer. “You have never been insufficient to me,” he tells you. You make some sound of disagreement and he repeats it, insistent as ever. “No, you listen. You aren’t. Jurda parem is notorious for the pain it causes. You think you lost the war? The fact that you’re still alive in front of me tells me that you won it. Every day since you went missing, I woke up and went to bed terrified that you were dead and I would never know. I need you, sweetheart, and I need you to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault.”

You stay quiet for a while, letting the words turn over in your mind, then, impulsively, you ask, “Sweetheart?”

He grins, easy as always. “It fits you. Don’t argue with me, I’ve had plenty of arguments prepared to convince you otherwise.”

You laugh, and this time, it’s real. “I wouldn’t dare, then. I just would have thought that you’d have plenty of princesses who would have won that nickname for real by now.”

Unable to stop yourself, you cast a glance towards his left hand. No ring. When you look back up at Nikolai, he’s beaming. “No queen for me, I’m afraid. I was waiting for mine to return from captivity.”

You roll your eyes. “Still haven’t given up on that, have you? I seem to remember you trying and failing to convince me to marry you since we were six.”

Nikolai grins, slipping your arm inside his so he can guide you back to the Little Palace. “I will never give up. Not until you say yes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in mock disbelief. It’s been a while since you saw him. It’s been a while since he asked. If he were to do it again, you think you might have a different answer than when you were both so small.

Nikolai turns to look at you, his eyes shining. He’s always had a gift for knowing what’s on your mind, and judging by the light in his smile, you think he’s predicted your thoughts yet again. He’s got some time before he attempts another proposal. This time, though, he’ll have a better outcome than before.

grishaverse tag list: @rogueanschel, @deadreaderssociety, @cameronsails, @mxltifxnd0m, @story-scribbler, @retvenkos, @mayfieldss, @eclliipsed, @gods-fools-heroes, @bl606dy, @auggie2000, @baju69, @crazyhearttragedy, @aoi-targaryen, @budugu

all tags list: @wordsarelife

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