#putting that tag cause of trailer talk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

funnylittlelad · 1 year

Text

Trailer Park Blues - Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader

Thank you for 100 followers! :)

Read on AO3

summary: You don't think much when you start letting Hellfire use your trailer for their meetings. Dustin asked and you caved, as per usual. What you weren't expecting was the rollercoaster ride that becomes your relationship with your little brother's best friend, Eddie Munson.

wordcount: 15.8k

tags/notes: SMUT (MDNI), gn!reader (nonbinary coded if you squint), reader is Dustin's older sibling, name-calling, degradation, hate fucking i'm ngl it's hate fucking, unprotected sex, power play, mentions of bad past relationships, queer eddie munson, talks about dead parents being dead

You might kill Dustin. The windows of your trailer are illuminated. He told you they’d all be gone by the time you got home from work. As you get closer to the door and hear the excited shouts you know that they’re all still here. You’re tired, you smell, and the last thing you want to do is look at a bunch of high schoolers playing some table top bullshit.

“Dustin,” you shout as you swing the front door open.

Everyone at the dining table jumps and snaps to look at you. When you enter your trailer you’re immediately met with a view of the living room to your right and the small kitchen to your left. Your table is in the middle, creating a makeshift dining area turned D&D area.

The normal crew is there, Mike, Lucas, and Will. There are some new, and semi-new faces. The semi-new face is one you’ve seen, but never spoken to. Eddie Munson, four trailers down, and originally part of your graduating class.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of us!” Dustin exclaims, holding his heaving chest.

“You’re not supposed to be here for me to scare the shit out of,” you remind him, the annoyance evident.

“I know, I’m sorry. We’re almost done, I promise. Can we please just finish?” he pleads with big eyes and a quivering lip.

This fucking kid knows he has everyone in his life around his damn finger. You’d like to smack him.

“Fine, but you’re explaining to mom why you're not home yet,” you point at him as you speak.

His face breaks into a smile.

“You’re the best!”

“Call, now,” you order.

When Dustin goes to the phone on the wall next to your fridge, you exit to the short hall. The company isn't going to stop you from showering. Eddie is frozen. His eyes follow you as you leave the room, mouth parted slightly. You barged in a little angry and it knocked him through a loop. His poor little bisexual heart felt ready to explode. You must get more shit than he does looking like that. Doesn't matter that you’re stunning, being the picture of androgyny in Hawkins can't be easy. He wants so badly to examine that picture up close and in detail. Dustin was right about one thing. Jesus Christ.

When the kid told Eddie they could use his sibling’s trailer Eddie was surprised to find he lived so close to a Henderson without realizing. Now, he really can't believe it.

“Okay, let’s finish before I get my ass kicked,” Dustin says as he comes back to the table.

Eddie snaps out of the trance he fell into.

“Uh-we can call it here,” Eddie says, sounding far away.

The rest of the table balks at him.

“You’re calling the campaign early?” Dustin questions.

“When I asked if we could cut last week's campaign short you said you would strangle me with your bare hands,” Mike adds in disbelief.

“We’re in the middle of a fight,” Will protests.

The rest of the table starts voicing their own arguments creating a cacophony of disgruntled nerds.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie gets loud to quiet down the table, “Dustin’s next in initiative.”

The boys cheer triumphantly causing Eddie to smile. If his eyes keep darting to where you disappeared down the hall… Well, that’s his business. Your trailer is close to his in layout, but it’s much more well-kempt and put together. Makes sense since you live here alone and two grown men live in Eddie’s.

When you reappear, toweling off your hair, they’re wrapping up. Your sweatpants that sit just below your belly button and short cropped shirt don't go unnoticed by Eddie. His eyes glide over your midriff and the soft dark hair that it's home to. It seems no matter what you’re in you remain more androgynous than Boy George.

A trait that absolutely entices the queer disaster that is Eddie Munson. Dustin only ever uses sibling to talk about you. He doesn't use any language that would give any more away than your appearance does. It doesn't matter anyways, Eddie is infatuated regardless. Maybe even partially because of.

The boys all throw you a goodbye as they exit until only Dustin and Eddie are left. Dustin is cleaning up any dishes or garbage left behind while Eddie packs up all the D&D materials. You didn't realize how much goes into this table top bullshit. Eddie has books, binders, and notebooks worth of information and ideas. There's stats and prices of various items on the screen he puts up so no one can peek at his notes. Then there's the velvet drawstring bag of different shaped dice. Shapes you’ve never even seen dice come in before.

“How long were you guys playing for?” you ask the two of them from where you lean against the counter.

You don't know what time they got started, just that they were supposed to be gone when you got home.

“Six hours,” Dustin says sheepishly.

“Six hours?”

“It took longer than expected,” he shrugs with an apologetic smile.

You chuckle and shake your head. Your eyes flicker over to Eddie, catching him staring at you with wide dark eyes. Once your gaze meets his he looks down and hurries to finish packing up. You choose to disregard it. Eddie Munson can eat dirt if he thinks he's in any position to judge you. If only you knew he wasn't judging you, he was admiring you.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to just spend the night? I don't like the idea of you biking home when it's this dark out,” you say to Dustin softly.

You don't have a car of your own to drive him. Since everything that happened with Will… Yeah, he’s definitely not biking home alone at night.

“I can bring him,” Eddie offers as he zips up his bag.

“You can bring him?” You question thinking about the death trap of a van you’ve seen him drive.

Somehow, that feels even worse.

“Yeah, I can bring him,” he repeats and finally meets your eyes again.

He sees the distrust, the anxiety. It hits him in the gut.

“That’s okay, he can just spend the night,” you refuse him politely.

“How d’you think he got here in the first place?” Eddie asks with raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

Your nostrils flare a little at the smugness.

“Then I should consider myself lucky he’s still in one piece,” you shoot back.

Eddie dramatically grabs his stomach and doubles over with a grunt as if he has just been punched.

“You hurt me, Henderson,” he huffs as he looks up at you from his bent state.

A smile grows on his face when he sees you fighting off your own.

“Hello, I’m right here, y’know,” Dustin looks between the two of you exasperatedly, “I can go with Eddie.”

“Dust-”

“I can go with Eddie,” he cuts you off to repeat himself.

You exhale sharply through your nose. The two of you glare at each other for a moment. You still lean against the counter while Dustin stands beside the table. Eddie watches from where he stands on the opposite side of the table. Then your smoldering gaze turns to Eddie, stopping his breathing.

“Do the speed limit,” your voice is even, but so stern that all Eddie can do is nod.

He swallows the lump that forms in his throat as a result.

“Cross my heart,” he uses his pointer finger to draw an X over his heart.

Dustin hugs you goodbye. You make him promise to call tomorrow. Eddie gives you one last wide eyed look, a small smile plays on his lips. Then you’re finally alone. You love having Dustin over, but you’re also glad to have peace and quiet.

You moved out a few short months after graduation. Your overbearing mother proved too much to continue living with. Dustin was pissed at first. He came around when he realized it meant having a space to escape to and be himself. Something you're more than happy to provide for him.

He was thrilled to learn that Eddie lives only four trailers away from you. When Dustin asked if Hellfire could meet at your place to continue a campaign they had started you agreed for this one time. Even when you said it, you had a feeling Dustin will end up begging for

more and you’ll end up caving. The kid really does have everyone wrapped around his finger. Eddie included it seems.

“So, are they always so…,” Eddie struggles to finish his question as he drives through Hawkins.

Hot, breathtaking, pulse pounding, awestriking. He can't really say any of that to Dustin.

“Protective?” Dustin offers.

“Protective works,” Eddie nods.

Not exactly what he was thinking, but that applies too.

“Pretty much.”

“How long have they lived in Forest Hills?” He tries to keep his tone casual, but ends up sounding just a little too interested.

He can feel Dustin’s eyes burning into the side of his head.

“Year and a half,” Dustin answers.

“So they're… nineteen?”

“Twenty.”

Eddie glances over at Dustin. He looks one part irritated and two parts suspicious. Eddie adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.

“Wait, we were in the same grade?” Eddie asks, surprised.

“You were supposed to be,” Dustin ribs.

“You wanna walk from here, Henderson?”

“You wanna get murdered?”

Eddie shoots him a glare knowing he’s right. His threat is hollow with you around. If you found out he let Dustin walk halfway home he’s sure he wouldn't see morning.

“Why are you asking?” Dustin inquired after a moment of silence. Eddie shrugs.

“Just curious.”

“Uh-huh,” Dustin sounds entirely unconvinced.

“Whatever,” Eddie mutters to himself. He pushes you out of his mind and focuses on driving.

He can feel Dustin’s occasional glances. The younger Henderson has clocked his strange demeanor, he knows it. It’s not hard. He isn't as goofy or teasing. He’s more lost in thought than he'd like. He just doesn't know how he's never noticed you before. How has he never noticed the one person in Hawkins that seems to tick every single fucking box he could possibly have?

***

The next time Eddie sees you it’s raining. The weather is only noteable because he sees you walking home with no umbrella. He catches you as you make it under the awning of the movie theater. It gives you temporary shelter from the pounding of the rain. Eddie pulls over to the curb in front of you. He had been going to the store to grab some munchies, but that’s something he can do later.

You eye his van curiously. He doesn’t bother with his hazards. Cars go around him without issue. He leans over and cranks the window down.

“You need a ride?” he calls out.

“I’m good, thanks,” you call back.

“Seriously? You’ll catch your death walking all the way to Forest Hills in this. Just get in.”

You sigh, but do as he says. It's not like you want to walk in the rain. Keeping a distance from Eddie just felt like the right thing to do. He gives you a feeling in your gut you can't quite place. He always has. Is it possible to admire someone and not like them?

“Thanks,” you say as you close the door.

You’re shivering as you drip on his seat.

“Yeah, no problem,” Eddie says as he blasts the heat.

His typically loud music is soft as he drives. Something you appreciate. Work was a headache. Having to walk home in the rain was a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass Eddie has luckily saved you from.

“Where d’you work, anyways?” he asks after a few minutes.

“I’m a manager over at the general store.”

“Shit, really? I steal-I mean I-uh go there all the time,” Eddie doesn’t course correct quite fast enough.

To his surprise, you laugh. It’s a nice sound. Calming like the rain is when you aren't stranded in it.

“I’ll remember that next time I see you in there.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that. Eddie is actually a better driver than you assumed. It makes you feel a little better about Dustin driving around with him. You don't even notice you've stopped shivering. The van is warming you up, but you’re still soaked.

“Sorry about your seats, by the way,” you say.

“Eh, it’s just some water. These seats have seen worse,” he shrugs.

You grimace in disgust.

“Like what?”

Eddie lets out a hearty laugh.

“Probably better you don’t know.”

“Jesus, you’re nasty, Munson,” your laughter betrays you.

“Oh, you have no idea, Henderson.”

Another round of comfortable silence as Forest Hills comes into view. You expect Eddie to park at his trailer. You don't mind walking the short distance to your own. Instead he pulls right up to your door.

“Seriously thank you, Eddie,” you give him a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. If- y'know, if you need a ride again you can give me a call.”

“Sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to give me your phone number,” you tease.

Eddie chuckles.

“Two birds, one stone,” he smiles.

“You’ll need to try harder than that, Munson. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” You flash him a smile and then you’re gone.

Only the wet imprint of your ass lets him know you were ever really there in the first place.

***

“Please,” Dustin pleads over the phone. You sigh.

“Dustin, it’s my day off. I don't want to sit here and listen to you guys for six hours,” you tell him.

“We’ll only be an hour, two tops.”

“Dustin-”

“I can stay over after and we can hang out. We’ll watch E.T.,” he sweetens the pot.

He knows that's your favorite movie and he knows you’re a sucker for quality time with him. Little asshole.

“Fine, but you only get two hours before I kick everyone out.”

“Three?”

“Two and a half.”

“Thank you, you're the best, bye!” he hangs up before you have a chance to change your mind. You chuckle and shake your head.

Two and a half hours stuck in your room isn't too bad. Besides, you’re not really stuck. You just don't want to get in the way, or listen on in utter confusion. You know a little about D&D from Dustin talking about it, but not enough to follow. Sure you’ll pop out to grab a drink, maybe something to eat, but overall you intend to stay removed.

Part of you wants to stay away from Eddie. You know he’ll just start flirting and you'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to resist giving it right back to him. It shouldn't surprise you when Eddie is the first to show an hour later, but it does. He gives a quick rhythmic knock on your door.

“I'm surprised you made it so early. I know the commute is killer,” you quip when you see him standing outside the screen door.

With a grin, Eddie braces his lower back beneath his old bookbag and leans into his hands a bit to dramatize discomfort.

“Yeah, my back is killing me from the long drive over,” he makes a face as he jokes to drive it home.

You chuckle and push the screen door open to let him in.

“Dustin isn't here yet,” you tell him as he enters.

He pauses just inside the doorway leaving him so close to you his body heat reaches the skin of your arms.

“I can come back,” he says and begins to turn.

“No, it's alright. He should be here soon. I’m assuming you need to get set up or something?” you tilt your head toward the cleared off dining table. He nods and you hold your arm out to tell him he’s welcome to continue inside.

You watch him make his way to the table. Something about the way he’s joking back with you makes you wonder if you had things wrong. Maybe he wasn't flirting in the van the other day. Maybe it was just friendly banter.

“Thanks for letting us play here. We usually use the drama room, but they’ve needed it more with that stupid musical coming up,” Eddie says as he opens his bag and begins to pull things out.

“Let me guess, Grease?” you shut the door and find your place on the couch.

Eddie glances at you with an amused smirk.

“Sure is.”

“Figures. Thank God Dustin isn't a theater kid. I don't think I could sit through that every year,” you chuckle.

Eddie’s smile is curious, maybe even a bit nervous. You're watching him and it makes his movements just a little less sure.

“Instead you get a bunch'a freaks playing D&D at your table.”

“You calling my brother a freak, Munson?” There’s an edge to your words.

Eddie’s eyes get wide.

“Uh- no, I-”

“I’m just kidding, calm down,” you laugh, “it’s okay, he is a freak. Besides, I don't think you’d ever be mean to Dustin.”

“Why’s that?”

“He worships the ground you walk on. If you were ever mean to him your uncle would need to pull dental records to identify you,” you say it light heartedly with a smile.

Your voice and expression don't match the vicious threat. Eddie’s heart thumps hard as he spreads out the battle map.

“You’re a little scary, y’know that?”

“How else am I supposed to keep you in line?”

Heat crawls up Eddie’s neck. His throat dries and he clumsily knocks into his DM screen. It clatters flat onto the table. You watch on in amusement as he fumbles with it. He’s flustered. A fact that goes straight to your ego. Eddie is Dustin’s friend so you had no plans to actually be mean or rude to him. Admittedly, your brother is pretty good at picking people. Even if others don't see what he does in those people.

Is flustering Eddie by accident mean or rude? Is continuing to do it because you like that you can?

“How is it I’ve never seen you around before?” Eddie asks once the DM screen is back up the way he wants it.

“You have, you just never noticed,” you shrug.

“Trust me, I would have noticed you,” he glances at you as he says it.

When he sees your attention is already on him, he quickly moves on to digging out the miniatures he brought.

“Trust me, you wouldn't have. I haven't always been this comfortable dressing and existing how I want. Not everyone can be Eddie Munson,” you give him a small smile.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he pauses setting up to look at you.

He half expects insults to start being hurled at him.

“You’ve always been yourself. Even when it would be easier to be someone else. I’ve always admired that about you. It took me a long time to be that brave,” you answer genuinely.

His face reddens and his eyes nearly strike you down where you sit. They’re big, as always, and the distinct brown of them swims in an emotion you can't place. Eddie’s heart is in his throat. He knows he’s attracted to you physically, but you might have just sunk a hook in him emotionally. Whether you meant to or not, you nearly destroyed him with your words. He can't remember the last time someone has said such nice things to his face.

“Always, huh? You been watching me, Henderson?” he bounces back, diffusing his own feelings with the joke.

You shrug with an innocent smile.

“You make it hard not to.”

Eddie’s face somehow gets even hotter. He might need to peel off his jacket if this keeps up. As he struggles to come up with a response to that, Dustin bursts in. The large smile on his face drops when he sees the flustered state of Eddie. His eyes travel back and forth between the two of you.

“What’s happening?” he asks

“Just getting to know your friend,” you shrug casually.

Traces of that smile can still be found on your face. That's when Eddie knows you’re doing it on purpose. You saw how flustered you made him and decided to keep going. He’s not sure if he hates you or just fell in love with you.

“Right,” Dustin says, completely unconvinced.

“Okay, well, I’ll make myself scarce before the rest of the nerds get here. Remember, two and a half hours, Dustin,” you point at him as you rise from the couch.

“I know, I know.”

Eddie watches you disappear down the hall. His eyes stay on the beginning of the hallway until he hears your bedroom door click shut. Then he finally looks at the boy in front of him. Dustin has narrowed eyes on Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asks defensively and continues emptying his bag.

“You tell me,” Dustin crosses his arms.

“I don't know what you mean,” Eddie lies as he spreads out his reference materials and notes behind the screen.

“Bullshit.”

“We were just talking.”

Before Dustin can pry further the rest of the boys start piling in. Mike, Lucas, and Will are confident just walking in like they live there. Jeff and Gareth follow with more hesitation. Eddie happily dives in once everyone is settled at the table. Happy to continue the campaign and happy to avoid talking about you further with Dustin. He’s not sure how the younger Henderson will take his burgeoning crush.

Around thirty minutes into their gameplay you appear for a drink. You notice immediately that Eddie becomes distracted when you pop into the kitchen. Eddie’s eyes track you the entire way as the others discuss their next move. You catch his gaze when you turn around from the fridge. Before he can try to act like he wasn't staring, you smirk. Then you’re taking a nice long drink from your can of coke. Eddie swallows, watching you, Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to regain the ability to speak.

“Eddie,” Dustin waves his hand in front of Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie blinks back into the game, feeling like he traveled a million light years and back. Dustin glances over his shoulder to where Eddie had been zoned off staring. You give your brother a small wave when he sees you. His eyebrows furrowed as he looks back to Eddie who is trying desperately to get back on track. Eddie hazards one more quick look at you. You throw him a wink as you make your exit. On their way back to the table in front of him, his eyes meet Dustin’s.

“What the hell was that?” Dustin questions.

“That was Mike getting knocked prone,” Eddie answers and reaches over his screen to knock Mike’s miniature on its side.

“You’re deflecting,” Mike says smugly, happy to have some retribution for the hit Eddie’s NPC made on his character.

“Uh, no, I’m DM-ing,” he makes a sweeping gesture to the layout in front of him.

“Holy shit, Eddie has a crush,” Lucas realizes out loud.

Dustin groans.

“Are we gonna have to stop playing here?” Will asks genuinely.

Will is the only one Eddie can consider innocent here. The rest of them earn a glare.

“I don't know, Eddie, will we?” Dustin sasses with a pointed look at Eddie.

“No, we won't. We only have a couple hours here, can we get back to the fucking game?” Eddie snaps them back into focus.

An hour goes by and you’re back. This time Eddie is able to drag his gaze away from where you’re digging around in a cabinet. You have to reach up in a way that exposes the skin of your stomach. A silky stripe of skin and some tufts of dark hair between your too small shirt and sweatpants.

Instead of allowing himself to get distracted by you again, he starts putting on more of a show. His movements become more dramatic, he throws himself more fully into the voices he’s doing, and overall amping up the theatrics. He figures if you admire him always being himself, he'll dial himself up to ten.

You find yourself leaning against the counter with a bag of chips in your hand watching. No one else seems to have noticed your arrival. They’re too taken in by the narrative Eddie is weaving. You can't blame them. Eddie puts his full body into it. After a couple minutes he lets the group deliberate their next move. His eyes flicker over to you again, a smirk on his face. The eye contact jolts you from whatever weird fog you’d fallen into watching him. As you make your leave you see the quick wink Eddie tosses your way.

Your heart is loud in your ears when you shut your door. Oh, it’s on, Munson, you think to yourself. If there's one thing you are, it's competitive. It’s clear you fluster Eddie, which means there’s some type of attraction there. Truthfully, you’re attracted to him too. You always have been. His authenticity and ability to stay true to himself have always drawn you in. Now that you can tell he’s into this too, you’re ready to have fun with it. The two of you have officially entered a little game and you refuse to lose.

An old pair of shorts is your next move. They’re Hawkins High green with white trim and stripes up the side of each leg. They’re long enough to cover everything, but short enough to draw attention. You give it another fifteen minutes before re-emerging. When you do so you fan yourself with your hand to pretend your room is hot. Without looking to see if Eddie has noticed you bend at the hips to start peering in the fridge. You look innocuous enough searching for a water bottle to cool down. Then you hear a clattering, a few shouts, and fumbling.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses.

You turn around with a water bottle pressed to your forehead. Everyone, but Eddie, is frantically looking for something on the floor. A small red pointy looking die sits in front of you on the linoleum, a black number twenty facing up. You pluck it off the floor and hold it up lazily.

“You guys looking for this?” you ask. A couple of them hit their heads on the table on their way up.

When they see the D20 between your fingers they swarm you. Suddenly you’re trapped against the fridge by several manic nerds. Dustin grabs the sides of your upper arms.

“Did you see what it landed on?” He all but demands.

You shove him off and push through them. Eddie remains seated at the table watching with huge eyes.

“First off, whose is it?” you ask.

“Mine,” Eddie’s voice wavers just a bit on the single syllable.

With a bright smile you walk it over to him. He looks up at you when you’re next to the table, face getting more and more red. You place the D20 down in front of him, black twenty still up. His mouth parts slightly as if to say something, but nothing comes out. You have him all lined up where you want him. Now, you just have to make the goal by brandishing some of the only D&D knowledge Dustin has imparted on you.

“Natural twenty,” you say, your smile curling into something more mischievous, “Congrats on the crit.”

Eddie continues blinking his wide dark eyes at you. The rest of the boys groan behind you. Whatever Eddie just rolled for clearly isn't good for them. They all take their seats again.

“You couldn't have lied?” Dustin huffs comically.

“And rob your DM of his roll? Never,” you chuckle.

You lift his hat, ruffle his hair, and walk off. Eddie gapes after you, heart absolutely pounding. He won't be able to stand the rest of the game. His jeans got a little tighter when he saw you bent over in those fucking shorts, distracting him mid roll. It only got worse when you walked over his D20, looked down at him like you know the hold you have, and congratulated him on his nat twenty.

“I think he’s drooling,” Mike’s voice pulls Eddie back to the table.

“He’s speechless,” Gareth adds.

“I’m not speechless. I'm contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?” Lucas questions unconvinced.

“How exactly I want this nat twenty to fuck up your day.”

You don't make another appearance until their time is up. By the time you make it out there it's just Dustin and Eddie. Dustin is on his knees in the living room looking through the different VHS tapes you have in a milk crate. Eddie is packing away all his stuff neatly.

“How’d it go?” you ask them as you plop down onto your couch.

Dustin launches into an excited and detailed account of the game. Eddie expects you to tell him to calm down, that you don't need a play by play of every second. You don't. Instead you listen encouragingly, ask questions for clarification, and let Dustin rattle on.

“Sounds like you did a good job with this one, Dungeon Master,” you say to Eddie with a smile.

His heart skips.

“Even I have my days,” he shoots you a smile in return as he zips up his bag.

“Yeah? Maybe one of these days you’ll be able to keep your dice on the table,” you tease.

Dustin watches the two of you and it clicks. At first he thought Eddie was just taking a morbid interest. You’ve had plenty of that. Guys in Hawkins like experimenting, toeing the line you ride between genders, and then denying anything ever happened when they come to their senses. He didn't want to think Eddie would be like that, but as protective as you are of Dustin he is of you. The way you prop your chin on your hand and lean on the arm of the couch toward Eddie finally clues Dustin in. You're into Eddie too.

“Eddie, you should stay and watch E.T. with us,” Dustin interjects.

Your eyes dart to him curiously.

“I promised Wayne I'd be home by eight. Next time, alright?” Eddie swings his bag over his shoulder.

Dustin is disappointed, but doesn't put up a fight. Eddie knew he wouldn't last through a movie with you. Not if earlier was any indication of what you’re capable of doing to him. Not with Dustin around. As disappointed as you might be, you’re also relieved. If Eddie sat next to you the movie would have been forgotten immediately. You and Dustin bid Eddie farewell and start the movie.

Dustin is knocked out on the couch by the end of it. You throw the soft blanket you keep in the living room over him. It’s too early for you to be tired. You take to cleaning up a little, grabbing what Dustin missed when cleaning up after the campaign. When you go to toss the little bits of trash in the garbage can you find it full. You roll your eyes knowing full well Dustin left it like this for you when he could have taken it out.

The outside air nips at your exposed legs. It’s a short walk to the dumpster, but in the dark it can be creepy. Forest Hills isn't the most lit up place at night. You hurry to toss the bag into the dumpster.

“Come here often?”

The voice startles you. You whip around with a small yelp. Eddie stands before you with a garbage bag in his hand and a teasing smirk on his face. When you realize it's him you recover quickly.

“Only when I’m hoping to see you,” you tease as you step out of his way. He tosses his own bag in the dumpster and turns to face you.

“You callin’ me trash, Henderson?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I didn't say that, but if that's what you took from it…” you smile playfully.

He shakes his head chuckling.

“You're kinda mean,” Eddie points at you as he says it.

“Am I?” You ask, taking a step forward.

There's a foot of space between you and Eddie. You can see his breathing stutter in his chest.

“Yeah, but I like it,” he admits quietly, heart pounding.

You smile and take another step forward. You’re fully in Eddie’s space now. He can't even tell if he’s still breathing. You’re still in those fucking shorts, you're openly flirting with him, and you’re so god damn close. He might just die on the spot.

“Do you?” You're torturing him now.

He knows it. You know it.

“Now you’re just tryna get me to say nice things about you,” he teases with a smirk.

How he’s maintaining any amount of composure is beyond him. Maybe God is real and right now Eddie is His favorite little soldier.

“Is that so hard?”

“No, not when you're wearing those.”

He nods down to your shorts. You laugh, placing a hand on the breast of his jean vest over his leather jacket.

“I thought you’d like’em.”

“You were right.”

“I’m glad I dug them out for you then,” you smirk, toying with one of the many pins on his vest.

“You- for me?” Eddie sputters not expecting the bold statement.

Light teasing and flirting, sure, but not that.

“You’re really surprised?” you chuckle.

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs lamely. His composure is quickly slipping.

“Then you haven't been paying attention very well,” you chide playfully.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes.

Before you can say another word, Eddie breaks. He grabs the sides of your face and crashes his lips into yours. You grasp onto the denim of his vest as you melt into it. His lips are warm, urgent, and a little sloppy with desperation. The kiss sends a thrill through your entire body. It’s only when he pulls away that you remember where you are. Outside at night kissing Eddie Munson next to the fucking dumpster. Are you sixteen again?

You just look into each other's eyes for a second. Eddie’s face is still just inches away from yours. His pupils are blown to shit and you're sure yours are too. You drag him forward again by the grip on his vest. This time your other hand finds a home in his coarse wavy to curly hair. He moans into your mouth as your hold on his hair tightens. You give a surprised groan when his hand grabs your ass. He rides the shorts up just enough for him to brush against the skin they once covered.

It takes an extreme amount of effort to pull away. Somehow, you manage. Both of you are breathing heavily. After a second of just studying each other's face, you shake your head with a smile.

“I better get going before I try to jump your bones in the dumpster,” you say, but don't move.

“Maybe you can jump my bones another time,” Eddie suggests with a smile.

You chuckle.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Aren't you eager,” you tease.

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess not.”

He gives you an expectant stare. You pretend to think his offer over.

“Okay, tomorrow. Dustin should be gone by one,” you nod.

Eddie fights off a groan. He forgot about the Dustin of it all. Maybe this isn't a good idea. Maybe he should call the whole thing off.

“See you tomorrow,” he says instead.

“I look forward to it,” you smile and leave him.

He watches you walk back to your trailer. Without you pressed against him, he’s suddenly cold. He jogs back to his own trailer still in disbelief. His thoughts are spinning. One thing is for sure, his dreams are going to be full of you tonight.

***

Eddie’s fist hovers by the door for a second. This is his last chance to back out. It’s his last chance to turn around and avoid any awkward confrontation with Dustin later. Eddie cares about that kid’s opinion of him far too much. Once he has the thought to leave, he gives a quick rhythmic knock.

“Eddie?” Dustin questions when he opens the door, “What are you doing here?”

Eddie struggles for something to say. Dustin is supposed to be gone.

“Oh, Eddie left his dice. I gave him a call last night,” your voice calls from deeper in the trailer.

The lie is easy and smooth.

“So, you gonna let me in or what?” Eddie jerks his chin up at Dustin.

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his vest. The left one is wrapped around the condom he brought just in case you didn't have any. He’s almost afraid if he lets go it’ll fall out and Dustin will have more questions.

Dustin pushes the screen door open to let Eddie in. When he enters he sees you standing over the kitchen sink. You shoot him an apologetic look over your shoulder. He returns it with a small understanding smile. Clearly, you hadn't planned on Dustin still being here either. You turn off the water, dry your hands on a nearby towel, and face him from the kitchen.

“I have the dice in my room,” you tilt your head toward the hallway.

You lead Eddie to your bedroom. It’s at the end of the short hall, similar to his own. An unmade full bed is pushed into the far corner under the singular window. A dresser sits in the opposite corner with a couple framed pictures on top and what looks like a small silver urn. The wall behind your bed is adorned with an intricate forest green tapestry with the tree of life on it.

“I’m so sorry,” you begin in a hushed voice.

“S’alright,” Eddie assures you.

“He decided to stay and I couldn't exactly tell him no,” you explain anxiously.

“It’s really alright, Henderson,” he gives you a reassuring smile.

Your heart skips a beat. Part of you feared he’d be pissed. There have been plenty of guys in the past whose tempers were as short as their sexuality was confusing. Eddie notices the way you relax when you accept his words.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang out as long as you’d like,” you tell him.

“Maybe I should go. This probably wasn't a good idea anyway,” he says with a quick look over his shoulder.

Dustin is still in the living room, Eddie can hear the tv. When his eyes turn back to you, your whole demeanor has changed. Your face is suddenly unreadable. Your stance is closed off.

“Yeah, maybe you're right,” your voice is cold.

Eddie starts internally panicking. Clearly he said the wrong thing, but he doesn't know what.

“It’s not you,” he rushes to explain, “it’s Dustin.”

You roll your eyes.

“Don't use my brother as an excuse for whatever sexuality struggle you're having,” you whisper harshly.

Eddie’s hands find either side of his head. His fingers sink into his hair as he tries to understand how this situation turned on him.

“I’m not having a sexuality struggle,” he argues, frustration beginning to bubble up.

“Whatever, Eddie. I’ve been through this too many times.”

“Through what? You're not actually fucking talking to me. Just talk to me,” he gestured wildly in the air, shaking his hands in a pleading motion.

“Through assholes chatting me up, making me feel special, like maybe someone actually fucking likes me. Only to find out I was nothing but a novelty. I don't know why I thought you could be any different,” you explain bitterly with a shake of your head.

Eddie runs a hand over his face as he processes. Your words sting. They burn tiny lacerations into his skin. I don't know why I thought you could be any different. He never thought he'd be compared to the rest of Hawkins, always an outlier. You’re grouping him in with probably the worst Hawkins has to offer. Now that really fucking hurts.

“I do actually fucking like you. Why can't you get it's more complicated than that?”

“Oh, I get it. You can't figure out what you’re feeling and you’re afraid it’ll make you gay. So, test it out with me and then move the fuck on like nothing ever happened,” you say while crossing your arms. You fold in on yourself, becoming smaller and smaller before Eddie’s eyes.

“I am gay-I mean not gay gay but-fuck,” Eddie struggles.

The heels of his hands dig into his eyes as he tries to collect his racing thoughts.

“Just go, Eddie. We can pretend this never happened,” your voice is low, almost a rumble.

“Will you just listen to me?” he demands frustratedly, voice raised.

“Is everything alright?” Dustin appears in the open doorway.

His face is full of concern and confusion.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Dust. Eddie was just leaving.”

Eddie gives you a desperate look. He pleads with those big brown eyes. When it's clear you’re done and this conversation isn't going any further he sighs.

“See you later, Henderson,” he mumbles as he pushes past Dustin.

You’re not really sure which one of you it's directed at. Eddie isn't either.

***

You actively avoid Eddie the following week. It’s painfully obvious. He wants a chance to grab you. To talk to you and explain the misunderstanding. He's beginning to think you can sense that and that's why you’ve been so slippery as of late. The only time he really could is when you’re on your way to work, but he doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to make you late or upset you before a shift.

Dustin opens the door the next time Eddie knocks. You’re still letting them play in your trailer, but you haven't been home the last couple sessions. He does his best not to let it bother him. It's fucking hard when Dustin keeps giving him these watchful, curious looks. Almost like he’s trying to decipher what happened just by studying Eddie’s face. These looks are peppered throughout the entire campaign, exhausting Eddie.

It feels like fate when you come home as he’s packing up. He gives you an unsure smile. You return it and go into your room. That’s something. That’s progress. At the end of the day, Eddie doesn't want you thinking so low of him. He hates knowing you think he'd use you as an experiment. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a piece of shit.

“Dustin, if you need a ride home Steve is stopping by in a few minutes,” you call out from your bedroom.

When you walk back out you’re in a pair of dark blue shorts that fall to your mid-thigh, and a baggy white muscle shirt. You catch the expression Eddie was making before he managed to wipe it off his face. You pause between the kitchen and the front door.

“What?” you question a little aggressively.

Eddie holds his hands up to his chest in surrender. The unwarranted attitude automatically sets him off.

“Put the gun away, jeez. I didn't know you’re friends with Harrington is all,” Eddie snaps back defensively.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you guys? I thought you liked each other, but now you’re acting like you hate each other,” Dustin interrupts exasperated.

“Shut up,” the two of you say in unison.

Your head snaps to Eddie.

“Did you just tell my brother to shut up, Munson?” you demand.

“You did too!”

“Because he’s my brother. Who the fuck are you to talk to him that way?”

“Will you calm down?” Dustin demands.

“Dust-”

“No, this is so stupid. What happened?”

You grit your teeth. A sharp exhale exits your flared nostrils. Your eyes flicker to Eddie for a second. His face is red with frustration, his eyebrows are set, and his mouth is a thin line. You look back to Dustin's confused face.

“Jason,” you state flatly.

“Jason?” Eddie questions, absolutely bewildered.

Dustin’s face drops. His eyes squeeze shut as he sighs. You watch him slowly turn to look at Eddie. Eddie’s stomach sinks when he sees Dustin’s broken expression.

“Eddie, you didn't,” he pleads softly.

Eddie’s eyes fly furiously between you and Dustin. He’s trying to grasp what the fuck is happening. Why did you bring up Jason? Why is Dustin looking at him like that?

“Didn’t what? What’s going on?” he asks, absolutely lost.

“You should go,” Dustin answers solemnly.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking Hendersons don't know how to have a conversation to save your lives,” Eddie grumbles as he continues packing up his stuff.

“What’s that, Munson?” You demand, stepping forward.

“C’mon, don’t-” Dustin starts.

“Dustin, go wait outside,” you order without looking at him.

Your glare remains firmly on Eddie. Eddie who is glaring firmly back, only the battle map left on the table.

“I’m not gonna wa-”

“Outside, now.”

Dustin huffs, but ultimately listens. Once the door is slammed shut behind him you march up to Eddie. Eddie backs up, but you don't stop. Soon his back hits the wall and there’s nowhere else to go. You stop directly in front of him and start aggressively poking his chest.

“Let’s get something fucking straight, Munson. If you’re going to be using my home for your stupid fucking childish fantasy game you're not going to talk about Dustin or me that way, got it?” you spat.

“Oh, now it's a stupid fucking childish fantasy game. That’s rich. You didn’t seem to think that when you were drooling over me DMing.” Eddie counters, still holding up his facade of confidence despite being cornered.

“Please, don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff.

“I’m not. It’s pretty fucking clear you’re into me, sweetheart.”

“Yeah? And what are you? Completely indifferent? You get a hard on just from seeing me in shorts. You're pathetic.”

Eddie wants to be hurt. He wants to be hurt so fucking bad. His body has other plans in response to your words, though. Fire spreads to every limb. He has half a mind to bend you over the table right now and show you just how pathetic he is. He’s ready to make you an incoherent mewling mess so he can lean down and whisper who’s pathetic now? into your ear.

“And you’re a fucking tease,” he snaps instead.

“Holy shit,” you laugh sarcastically, “You’re getting turned on right now, aren't you?”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Me? Munson, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

The front door slams open. You whip around and Eddie’s eyes snap up to the door. Steve is standing there with his hands on his hips, looking completely unimpressed.

“Alright, kids, what seems to be the problem here?” Steve asks.

He steps into the trailer with Dustin at his heels. Both you and Eddie are red, breathing heavily, and still standing within an inch of each other.

“Steve, can you just bring Dustin home, please?” you try to sound less irritated, but it doesn't work very well.

“Okay, well, one, you said I could borrow your blue jacket. And two, I’m not going anywhere until you two explain what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing, I’m just dealing with Jason Junior over here,” you answer, crossing your arms.

Steve’s head lolls back briefly in exasperation.

“God, Eddie, not you too,” he groans.

“Not me too, what? Can you guys stop being so fucking cryptic and tell me what you mean?” Eddie demands.

He’s absolutely over being compared to Jason out of everyone. You huff and walk away. The three of them watch you wander into your room and then back out. You throw the blue bomber jacket at Steve. He catches it with a frown.

“Everyone just get the fuck out of my house,” you grumble and stomp back to your room.

The door slams with such force Eddie is surprised he doesn't hear the wood splinter. All three boys flinch at the sound. Eddie scoffs to himself and starts to barge out. Steve stands in front of the door, blocking Eddie’s way.

“Move, Harrington,” Eddie orders.

“Not until you tell me what all that was about, Munson.”

“Can we do this outside?” Dustin interjects.

The three of them leave the trailer. You’re left alone in your room with nothing, but endless silence. Endless silence and that heavy feeling you get in your stomach whenever you just get done ruining everything.

“Okay, can someone please tell me what the fuck all this Jason bullshit is about?” Eddie turns on Dustin and Steve once they’re a good few feet from the trailer.

Steve and Dustin exchange a look that Eddie doesn't like. They’re both privy to something about you that Eddie isn't. It’s not surprising, but it's surely irritating. Especially when everyone is talking about it like he knows too.

“You remember that black eye Jason had inexplicably about four months ago?” Steve sighs.

“Yeah, it was a helluva shiner.”

“I gave him that.”

Eddie spends a moment just blinking. How is this relevant?

“Okay…” Eddie trails off, shaking his head to tell Steve to continue.

“I gave him that because he’s a little prick that really fucked’em over,” Steve continued with a gesture over his shoulder at your trailer.

“Wait… Jason? They were with Jason?” Eddie questions in disbelief.

“Yeah, behind locked doors. Until Jason was done playing queer and got with Chrissy without saying anything,” Dustin says bitterly.

Hearing queer from Dustin’s mouth kinda stung Eddie, he won't lie. He knows Dustin meant it in a sexuality way, not derogatory. Something he likely picked up from you. Still, there’s something about someone decidedly straight saying it.

“When they confronted him about it he… He said some not very nice things. It really fucked with them. Like really fucked with them. I mean he wasn't the first one to do something like that, but he was the worst one,” Steve explained, sounding irritated at the memory.

“I still don't get what that has to do with me,” Eddie rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You tell us,” Dustin crosses his arms.

“I don't fucking know.”

“Just tell us what happened between the two of you,” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose, a hand in his hip.

Eddie tucks his hands in his armpits. He spends too long looking between Dustin and Steve. He really doesn't want to do this. He really really doesn't want to do this, but he also doesn't want to be put in the same league as fucking Jason. Frustrated that he’s backed into a corner for the second time today, Eddie wets his lips with his tongue.

“Fine, fine. We’ve been flirting. Last week we made out a little- the night you guys watched E.T.. I was supposed to come over the next day after you were gone so we could… y’know,” Eddie gestures awkwardly with his hands.

Both Dustin and Steve let out an ew.

“Yeah, anyway. You were still there. When we were talking in their room I said that maybe it's for the better that we didn't do anything. After that… I dunno what happened exactly. They started going on about me having a sexuality crisis, which isn't what was happening. I was just worried you would be pissed at me if we did do something,” Eddie finishes explaining.

Dustin and Steve exchange a look again. Eddie hates this. He hates feeling put under a microscope. He hates that you’ve turned on him so quickly.

“You sure you weren’t… experimenting?” Steve asks, jerking his chin up at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I got experimenting out of my system a long time ago, alright? I know who and what I like.”

Steve nods and rubs his jaw in contemplation. He glances once more at Dustin who wears a troubled expression. That troubled expression is aimed directly at Eddie.

“You're both pussies,” Dustin states.

“Excuse me?” Steve scoffs.

“Not you,” Dustin rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a pussy. I tried, alright? Whenever we talk now it’s just a fucking fight,” Eddie says heatedly.

“You used me as an excuse. That’s why they think you’re full of shit. You flirt and make out then all the sudden you get concerned with what I think? It’s bullshit, Eddie. You just got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of the possibility you could have feelings!”

Eddie’s jaw sets. His hands tuck back into his armpits, now his arms apply more pressure. Acid rises in his throat. The kid is right. It’s not that he has any crazy feelings right now, but he can feel them coming. Like a sneeze building up, he can sense the oncoming rush. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak to others, the way you speak to him. Eddie knows he could catch feelings fast if given the chance. When an out was presented, he took it. It’s the feelings that make this feel messy, not your relation to Dustin.

“Can we just fucking agree that I’m not Jason?” Eddie sounds more desperate than he’d like.

“You’re not Jason, but you gotta get them to realize that,” Steve tells him.

Eddie sighs.

“I’m going inside. I’ll see you later,” he mumbles, turning on his heel.

This conversation has him exhausted. You have him exhausted. He knows he has to find a way to talk to you. Talk, not argue. Not fall down a rabbit hole of aggressive sexual tension. Right now, though, he needs to take a fucking nap.

***

The short rap on the front door startles you. You wait for a beat where you lay on the couch. Another set of three knocks. Curiously, you answer the door. When you see Eddie standing with the screen door open you go to close it again. His hand flies out and stops the door from shutting.

“Will you just let me talk?” He huffs.

“Fine,” you sigh and go back to the couch.

You don't bother checking if he’s following. The screen door creaking shut followed by the front door lets you know. He sits delicately next to you. There's a few inches of space left between your legs. Eddie fiddles with the rings that have become a permanent fixture on his left hand.

“So, talk,” you order.

“I’m not Jason, alright?”

“Cool, that it? You can see yourself out.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie snaps.

He tries to believe he made a valiant effort to stay calm. Your attitude irritates him more each time you show it. Eddie is a lot of things, patient in the face of unwarranted malice is not one of them.

“You, you’re my fucking problem.”

“Me? Henderson, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” Eddie turns your own words against you.

Your head snaps to look at him. Nostrils flaring, face red, and eyes full of contempt.

“Please, Munson, you’re beneath me. You’re pathetic,” you sneer.

Jesus Christ, there's no reason your words went straight to Eddie’s dick the way they did. How are you able to play him with more skill than he does his guitar?

“I wasn't pathetic when you were sucking my face off by the dumpster,” he counters.

“You act like I sucked your dick. It was a stupid kiss.”

“I remember you wanting to jump my bones after that stupid kiss,” Eddie mocks you.

Your fists clench in your lap. You’re about a second away from grabbing Eddie by his hair and showing him just how pathetic he is.

“Yeah, then unfortunately for you, you kept running your fucking mouth.”

“Unfortunately for me? Trust me, sweetheart, you’re the one missing out. I woulda rocked your world, anyone else woulda been ruined for you,” Eddie’s voice is condescending with a challenging edge.

You lean in slightly with narrowed eyes.

“I really doubt that.”

Eddie leans in some.

“Do you?”

You lean in even further.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eddie’s eyes flash down to your mouth before quickly moving back to your eyes.

“Maybe I should prove it to you then.”

“Now who wants to fuck so bad they look stupid?” You smirk.

“Fuck it, me,” Eddie breathes and closes the space between you.

His hands are on your face. His mouth moves furiously against yours sending shockwaves down your body. One of your hands takes hold of the back of Eddie’s hair. The other runs along his jaw until it’s circled around his neck. You force him away by tugging back on his hair and pushing forward on his throat. He looks so pretty like this with his big eyes wide as can be, all pupils. His face is flushed and his breathing is ragged. Eddie is pliant in your grasp.

“Look at you. Just as pathetic as I thought,” you coo teasingly.

“I’ll show you pathetic,” he grumbles.

In a blink, you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned above your head with one of Eddie’s strong calloused hands. He hovers over you. The heat radiating from his body soaks into your skin. The tip of his nose brushes against yours.

“You’re a real fucking brat, y’know that? Go on, admit it. Tell me you're a brat,” he hisses in your face, warm breath hitting your lips.

Your heart is pounding. Your body is heating up. Every part of you wants this so bad no matter how much you hate it.

“You’re an asshole,” you hiss back.

Eddie’s rings are cold against your jaw. His grip is punishing as he manhandles your face. He presses his forehead to yours. Those huge brown eyes are commandeering as they lock onto yours.

“Am I gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you?”

You manage to let out a taunting laugh.

“You don’t have what it takes to fuck anything out of me,” you bite.

His grip tightens making talking impossible. Eddie's mouth brushes against your ear and his hair tickles your nose.

“I’m going to fuck you until the only words you know are Eddie, please, and more,” he whispers.

You hate the shiver that runs down your spine. You hate how much he just turned you on, how much you want what he’s threatening you with. Every nerve ending is on fire. Eddie’s lips begin an assault on the soft bit of skin just below your ear. The sensation makes you squirm in delight. Eddie smiles against your neck.

“There you go, now you’re behaving. Now that you’ve finally shut the fuck up,” he taunts.

You glare at him, still unable to speak with his hand holding your face. That’s it. He’s been on you long enough. You’ve let him have control for long enough. Confusion flashes across his face when you smile. You lock your legs around Eddie’s waist. With a grunt, you launch your hips and legs up and over.

Eddie lands with an annoyed noise on his back on the carpeted floor. You straddle him, wrists free. Now you grip both his wrists next to his head. You brandish a wicked smile as he looks up at you in surprise. Clearly he wasn't expecting to be bested at that moment. Your knees dig into the carpet uncomfortably around his hips, but you ignore it. Eddie’s slightly nervous expression takes your attention off of it. You lean in to brush the tips of your noses together like he did before.

“What, big boy? Not feeling very confident anymore? You got no more to say?” you mock him quietly.

“I already said everything I need to say,” he mumbles back.

“What’s that, bitch? I didn't hear you,” your voice drips with venom.

Something in Eddie completely snaps. He swears he hears the sound of it. A deafening CRACK SNAP POP. Then whatever wild animal that has been scratching at his insides bursts free.

“Alright, I’m real fuckin’ tired of this attitude, sweetheart. Guess I’m gonna have to do somethin’ about it.”

You open your mouth to challenge him further. To berate him, degrade him. He can feel it. While it would only egg him on, only contribute to the growing erection in his pants, he won't allow it. He won't let you win control over this situation. Not this time. You’re already far too smug.

Eddie manages to rip his hands away from yours. In a blink, he’s sitting up. You place your hands flat on his chest to shove him back down, but he moves too fast. His hands are under your ass, scooping you up as he stands in a second. Instinctively, you wrap yourself around him to avoid falling. He has a firm steady grip on you, though.

“You won't be able to walk right when I’m done with you,” he growls, setting off for your bedroom.

“I just don't believe you’re good enough at sex for that,” you whisper into his ear with a smirk.

“Oh, I’ll make a believer out of you. My dick will have you meeting God and calling him by my name.”

He throws you onto your bed. The rough manhandling is something you never knew you wanted. It’s riling you up even more.

“You got condoms or are we doing this raw?” Eddie questions.

“I have condoms, but we’re doing this raw anyway,” you answer smugly.

“Is that what you think?” he taunts.

He rummages around your bedside table. There’s a decent sized box of condoms that’s about three quarters of the way empty. Admittedly, you haven't touched the box in a while. It’s from another life that ended months ago. However, when Eddie teases you about them, you find yourself lying.

“Jesus Christ, you’re more of a fucking whore than I took you for,” he holds up the box, shaking it to emphasize how empty it is.

“I like sex, and I like cumming even more. Too bad only one of those things will be happening tonight.”

Eddie takes out a condom and throws the box back in the drawer. He unbuttons his pants and kicks them off unceremoniously. You can see the imprint of his dick hardening in his tight boxers. He looks down at you with hooded lustful eyes. Soon you’re staring at his bare dick, his underwear abandoned on the floor. It bobs throbbing and red, glistening with precum.

“Get on your hands and knees. M’gonna use that big mouth of yours since you like havin’ it open so fuckin’ much,” he snaps.

You don’t know why, but you listen. Now that you’re on your bed with Eddie’s dick right there, all fight is gone. Eddie's hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes into your mouth.

“Shit,” he moans as you welcome him in with a twirl of your tongue.

He starts fucking your face slowly. You look up at him through your lashes. Eddie is watching you take him into your mouth like it's nothing. The eye contact makes you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he brushes the back of your throat.

“Never thought I’d get you to shut the fuck up,” Eddie grunts as he picks up his pace.

You try to remove your mouth. A scalding remark on the tip of your tongue. His grip on your hair tightens until it burns. His thrusts don't break.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. I plan on cumming down your throat before that loud mouth of yours starts up again.”

And fuck if that doesn't send you on a mission. Eddie doesn't even need to guide you after that, but it doesn't stop him. He refuses to relinquish control. He refuses to give you an opportunity to flip this on him. Finally, his hips stutter. Then he’s holding your head, calling out a resounding FUCK, and buries your nose in the dark hair at the base of his dick. You moan as Eddie shoots hot streams of cum down your throat. You take every last drop.

Once he’s finished, his grip on your hair loosens. You sit back on your heels. While making eye contact, you use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. It’s a move that makes Eddie’s softening dick twitch.

“You had something to say?” Eddie's voice is raspy, but still condescending.

You narrow your eyes at him. As if he wasn't just using your mouth to get off, you cross your arms petulantly.

“No, it’s okay. I don't think your fragile ego can handle it,” you shrug.

Eddie huff in disbelief.

“I just fucked my cum down your throat and your gonna call my ego fragile?”

“Seems so.”

“Just tell me what you were gonna fuckin’ say,” he orders, climbing into the bed over you.

Eddie crowding you causes you to lay back. Even in the compromising position, you smirk smugly. Eddie’s hair tickles your cheeks as he hovers over you. He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“It was nothing really… Just that Jason’s dick always managed to shut me up way faster than yours did,” you say casually, almost bored.

“Jason’s di- are you seriously bringing him up right now?”

“Why, that bother you?”

“Considering I’m about to make you meet God like we talked about, yeah a little,” Eddie’s voice is breathy.

He actually sounds a bit irritated.

“Never took you for the religious type.”

Eddie gets a wicked smile.

“‘M not, but you’re already in bed with the Devil, baby. Only one other Big Man to meet.”

“Big? Is that what you think of yourself?”

“Do you need a reminder? I’ll be happy to fuck that pretty mouth of yours again.”

Eddie leans down closer. Fuck, you want to kiss him. You don't. You won't let him know just how much you’re enjoying this. Instead you smile teasingly.

“You think my mouth is pretty?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, I hate to admit it, but… Not gonna lie, I think every part of you is unreal. Y’know, until you start talking.”

You snake your hands up Eddie’s chest. Slowly and sensually, you make your way up his shoulders. Then you skirt up and around to the back of his neck until your fingers tangle in his hair. Eddie really likes when you play with his hair. You can tell by the way his eyelids droop a little more at the contact. He almost looks like he’s about to lean down and kiss you. So, you take your chance.

Your grip tightens tenfold. Eddie’s eyes widen as you pull him back, sitting up in the process. He hisses, but doesn't complain otherwise. You glide the tip of your nose up the side of his neck until you reach his earlobe. With a smirk, you angle your head up so you can speak into his ear.

“I’m gonna use that big mouth of yours since you like having it open so fucking much,” you whisper, using his own words against him.

You swear you hear him breathe a curse. You let go of his hair, knowing he’ll follow you wherever you lead. Eddie is sure you could lead him into Mordor, up Mount Doom, and down into the lava like Sméagol. He’s sure that whatever painful obsession the ring of power imposed on Frodo, you just imposed on him. For better or worse. Eddie Munson is officially and completely captivated by you. You’re his precious.

That’s why he doesn't hesitate. He doesn't argue. He doesn't talk back. Instead he watches, waits patiently for you to settle into your pillows and peel off your shorts and underwear. Eddie happily, even eagerly, let’s you fuck his face like he did yours. You swear his tongue is magic. It’s hitting all the right spots, deft movements eliciting loud moans from you.

“Look at you. Just as pathetic as I thought,” you say as your thighs clench around Eddie’s head, your fingers digging into his scalp.

All Eddie can manage is a moan as you fill his mouth. You don't take as long as Eddie did to finish. Him using you and cumming down your throat had gotten you close enough, closer than you care to admit. You cum with a loud moan, no actual words coming out. With your fingers tangled in his hair, you pull him up. He looks dazed, drunk on your taste.

“At least your mouth is good for something,” you tell him with a slick grin.

Christ, Eddie is a goner. He’s an absolute goner. This is so so bad.

“Look at you, you’re already all fucked out and we haven't even gotten to actually fucking yet. You’re really making me miss Jason…” you sigh dramatically.

The mention of Jason again wakes Eddie up. A growl rumbles through his chest. His hand finds your wrist, applying enough pressure to get you to let go of his hair. He clambers over you, face real close to yours. There’s something hungry in his dark eyes. Something carnivorous.

“I’m gonna make sure you forget about fucking Jason,” he hisses.

“Fucking Jason is the one thing I like to remember,” you tease.

Eddie silently curses his own poorly placed fuck that gave you that opening. Hearing Jason’s name in the middle of this is seriously starting to grate his nerves.

“That’s it,” Eddie grumbles.

Before you can question him, he grabs onto your waist. With little effort he flips you onto your stomach. Your face is held sideways against your pillows. Eddie forces your hips in the air. You can feel the tip of his dick tease your entrance, causing you to twitch.

“What happened to the condom, prude?” you spit at him from your compromised position.

“The whore wanted it raw, the whore will get it raw,” he growls back.

It’s in that submissive state, Eddie’s rings digging into your scalp as he holds you down, him degrading you that you realize you’re a goner. You’re an absolute goner. This is so, so bad.

“What’re you waitin’ for then?” you question.

A loud SLAP rings out and a burning sensation spreads across your ass cheek. You gasp at the feeling.

“This is for my pleasure, whore. This isn't about you. I’ll go as fast or slow as I like.”

On the last word Eddie pushes into you. He doesn't go too fast at first. Sure, he wants to fuck you until you can't walk, but he doesn't want to hurt you. The foreplay was minimal, slow is better for now. You whine as he bottoms out. Completely stretched out and full you can do nothing but grip the sheets on either side of your head.

Slowly, Eddie begins to move. He’s so lost in the feel of you around him and his own mutterings of Jesus Christ that he doesn't register you speaking at first.

“What?” He breathes.

You cackle.

“Christ, Munson, you’re pathetic.”

There’s that word again. That fucking word. Eddie leans down, both of your damp shirts still on and sticking to each other.

“Remember what I said earlier?” he whispers into your ear.

“I remember you saying you think I’m unreal,” you mock him.

He straightens back up.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talkin’ while you still can. Soon you’ll only be able to say Eddie,” he gives a single powerful thrust earning a moan from you, “please,” another powerful thrust, “more.”

Eddie sets off on a wild chase of his second orgasm and your delirium. Admittedly, that delirium was setting in very fast. His movements are quick, strong, and fluid. You can't think of anyone else who has fucked you like this. In a way you didn't realize you’ve been craving. In a way that doesn't make you feel like an object, a subject to be studied, or a novelty. Eddie makes you feel a person who is desired, even in spite of the animosity ripe between you. He makes you feel like a whore in the best way possible.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good,” Eddie groans as you tighten around him.

He’s giving you so much already, but he was right. There are only three words you can think of right now. Only three words you think you’re capable of uttering.

“Eddie,” you moan.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

“Come again?”

“More.”

“Not sure I heard you right,” he says smugly, never breaking pace.

“Eddie, please, more,” you moan.

“Thought so.”

Eddie’s thrusts become animalistic. All the anger, frustration, name calling, and overall emotion from the rollercoaster that your relationship has been are being taken out on you. You start saying it like a mantra. Eddie, please, more. It’s a white flag, a surrender. It’s you telling him he’s won. Boy, oh, boy is it a sweet fucking sound. A sound that turns into a scream of a moan with your body tensing around him. He spills into you, hips flush against your ass. His own moans mingle with yours in the air.

You collapse onto your stomach, Eddie close behind. He stays on top of you. After a minute of catching his breath he rolls off of you. You stay on your stomach as you come back to your senses.

“You alright, Henderson?” Eddie’s voice is much softer than you’re expecting.

You turn your head to face him. He’s watching you with wide eyes. How does he manage to look so innocent after everything he just did to you?

“Yeah, Munson, I’m peachy. You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He nods, eyes never leaving you. Your eyes don't leave him. What’s the point in trying to hide staring after all that? You don't care that he is and he doesn't care that you are.

“So, you still miss fucking Jason?” Eddie asks playfully.

“Who?”

“Good,” he smiles, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“Do we still hate each other? I can't remember anymore,” you knit your eyebrows to feign confusion.

Eddie laughs. It’s a low sound that rumbled through his chest. His eyes take on a gooey quality that you fear you may get stuck in.

“I think we might like each other now. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Sounds good to me.”

***

The scent of sex is thick and heavy in the air when you wake up. Golden light streaks across your face as the sun lowers beneath the horizon. When you shift to turn over and check the time on your alarm clock, a warm weight stops you. Eddie’s arms are around you loosely, holding you against his chest. Both of you are still in only your shirts.

Carefully, you extract yourself. Eddie groans, but doesn't wake. You only bother with a new pair of underwear. Your stomach lets out a loud grumble and the hunger hits you. You take another look at Eddie’s sleeping form. The annoyance doesn't creep up at the sight of him anymore. Something else does in its place. Something you decide not to dwell on. All you know is if you’re this hungry, he’ll wake up hungry too.

Eddie wakes up to the smell of sex, bacon, eggs, and melted butter. It takes a second to get his bearings. The smell makes him think morning, but the position of the sun tells him it's evening. He crawls out of your bed and pulls his bottom layers back on. When he makes his way out to the main living area he finds you in the kitchen. You’re humming God Only Knows and pushing eggs around in a sizzling pan. Beside you is a plate of bacon and a plate of pancakes.

There’s a moment where the only thing Eddie can do is watch you. You’re bathed in the last golden rays of the evening, nothing but that baggy white muscle tank and a fresh pair of black underwear. The song isn't one he goes out of his way to listen to, but Wayne has thrown it on a few times. Enough for Eddie to recognize the Beach Boys’ tune.

“All that for you?” Eddie finally alerts you to his presence.

You jolt a little in surprise and whip around to look at Eddie. A coy smile crawls upon your face.

“Uh- no. I woke up starving and figured you would too,” you shrug.

As if on cue, Eddie’s stomach lets out a loud growl. You laugh and gesture for him to sit at the table. The whole scene feels so… domestic. If something in Eddie snapped earlier, something else is connecting now. There’s a satisfying click in his head as the sensation of things finally being on the right track sets in.

“Y’know, I didn’t peg you for a Beach Boys fan,” Eddie comments after a moment of only the sound of you scraping eggs around the pan.

You don't look at him, but Eddie swears he sees color rise to your cheeks.

“I’m not really. It… my dad used to sing that song all the time,” you explain, something close to troubled taking over your voice.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise. He’s never heard mention of Father Henderson before. Dustin only ever has complaints about your mom. Neither of you have mentioned a father until now.

“Dustin’s never mentioned-”

“He wasn't Dustin’s dad.”

You slide the scrambled eggs onto the last empty plate. Eddie watches you bring them over before grabbing a couple more plates for the two of you to eat from. Then some cutlery.

“I’m sorry if I brought up a sore subject,” he apologizes with big eyes as you sit across from him.

You begin shoveling food onto your plate.

“You didn't. I actually love talking about him, but my mom and Dustin have never really felt the same. So, I just don’t.”

“Do you want to talk about him now?”

You finally look at Eddie. Eyebrows slightly raised, eyes a tad wider than normal, and a soft smile on your lips. He wonders if it's okay to reach over and kiss you.

“His favorite song was God Only Knows by the Beach Boys, but I guess you probably figured that out.”

“Not a bad choice.”

You chuckle.

“I can't imagine you listening to the Beach Boys.”

“I don't, but Wayne does sometimes. God Only Knows is one of the only ones that doesn't make me want to rip my hair out,” he flashes you a playful smile.

“My dad would sing it whenever he was doing something boring. Laundry, dishes, but especially cooking.”

Eddie nods as he fills his own plate. There’s a couple minutes where the two of you eat in silence. Occasional voices could be heard outside, some cats, and the clinking of bottles as recycling goes out. The average soundtrack of Forest Hills.

“Can I ask what happened or is that not cool?” Eddie asks genuinely.

He really doesn't know how to navigate this conversation. He doesn't want to piss you off or upset you in general. All he knows is how he would want to be asked and, honestly, he simply wouldn't. You don’t seem as closed off on that front as he is, though.

“Pancreatic cancer. My mom ended the marriage before the cancer did, though. Said it was too much for her to handle.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Eddie suddenly felt very guilty for asking.

You just shrug.

“Where’s Dustin’s dad?”

“Who knows,” you snort, “he ran off with some woman from his job.”

“Jeez, your mom really has-”

“Poor choice in men? Yeah.”

“I was gonna say piss poor luck.”

You laugh, which loosens some of the tension that's built around the conversation. Eddie chuckles along, scarfing some food down in the process.

“We would fly kites when it was nice out. Sometimes he’d bring me to the lake where we’d fish and swim. He liked going to the library a lot, too. I basically grew up in the mystery section. A lot of that was lost when the cancer got bad, though. All of it, really. All of it except that song. No matter how bad it got, he always sang that song,” you rattle on sadly, but with a smile.

It’s been so long since you've talked about him. It feels good. Like visiting him after a long time away. Memories are nice, but there’s something special about sharing them. It’s easier to relive them. Easier to enjoy them when you get to do it with someone else. Maybe it’s just because that someone else is Eddie. You think if anyone will understand, or at the very least respect, how it feels it'd be him.

“What was his name?”

“Jack. Jack Coleman.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. He narrows his eyes and leans in, pointing his fork in an accusatory fashion.

“Wait, so, you’re not a Henderson? You’re a Coleman?” He questions.

You break out in a smile.

“Guilty.”

Eddie looks like he was struck by lightning. Like the heavens just opened up and revealed the meaning of life to him.

“Shit, wait… I do remember you!”

“No, you don't,” you shake your head, attempting to hide how mortified that sentence makes you.

“Yes, I totally do! All your friends called you Cole. You had those sick green vans,” he wears a goofy smile.

You feel heat crawl up your neck.

“You remember my vans?”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to flush bright red.

“Yeah, like I said, they were sick.”

“I still have’em somewhere. Maybe I’ll break’em out one day,” you smile.

Both of you clear your plates after that. You really were hungry. It’s an amicable silence. One that grows more uncomfortable in your chest because you know another hard conversation has to be had.

“I know you’re not Jason, by the way. I mean, I know now. Sorry I jumped to conclusions. I've been through a lot of Jasons,” you tell him softly.

Eddie offers a soft smile.

“S’alright. Would you tell me what happened there? I can't imagine you with fuckin’ Jason.”

You chuckle.

“Yeah, he asked me for help at work and then started saying all the right things. The dating pool for me in Hawkins is small. So, when he said he didn't want anyone to know I said okay. When he pretended not to know me in public I said okay. Then, one day, he was just…,” you frown at the memory of them walking down the street holding hands, “with Chrissy Cunningham. I asked him about it, but he was pissed I called his house. Called me about every derogatory name you can think of.”

Eddie could actually kill Jason. He already hated him, but now he’s actively cursing the ground the asshole walks on. How could he treat you so shitty? How could he not feel grateful he gets to be in your presence in this capacity?

“Well, I’d like to keep doing this. As public as possible. I want everyone to know I’m with someone this unreal,” he keeps his tone playful, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes.

Your heart starts pounding against your chest. Eddie is sitting across from you offering you everything you’ve ever wanted in a relationship. Someone who not only wants to be with you, but is proud to be with you. It’s almost too much.

“So, you're with me now, huh?” you tease.

“I sure am,” Eddie teases back with a wolfish grin.

“Maybe let's start with an actual date.”

“You asking me out, Hen-Coleman,” he places emphasis on getting the last name right.

A smile forms on your lips. You don't have an issue with being called a Henderson. The different last name is why so many people don't know you and Dustin are related. So, you don't correct people anymore when they call you Henderson. The reminder that you're technically only half siblings has always upset Dustin.

“Yeah, I think I am, Munson.”

“Then I expect to be picked up at seven sharp. You better have flowers and chocolates. I’m expensive to date.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Eddie helps you clean without you asking. He takes over the dishes, scooting you out of the way and instructing you to dry and put them away.

“I dunno where anything goes,” is his excuse.

Really, he just wanted to take on the more arduous task for you. A sort of repayment for making him food. The effortless kindness you've met him with after the sex you had. The angry, heated sex. Eddie finds it kinda funny how the two of you have fallen into this little exchange of kindness and good will considering how the day began.

When the dishes are all done and put away, Eddie begins awkwardly fiddling with his rings. It feels like his time with you is coming to an end. He doesn't want to overstay his welcome, but fuck does he want to stay. Just hanging out with you like this makes him feel… normal. He doesn't feel like the Freak, the drug dealer, or the fuck up. He just feels like Eddie and, for the first time, he feels like maybe that's enough.

“Is it really dumb to ask you to stay?” you ask him suddenly.

You’re standing across the small kitchen, having just put the last of the plates away. Eddie looks at you with wide, excited eyes.

“Awe, you wanna spend more time with me, Coleman?” Eddie coos teasingly.

“Alright, forget I said anything,” you roll your eyes with a smile.

Eddie lets out a laugh.

“I’ll stay until you kick me out,” he smiles back.

You don't kick him out until you have to go to work the next afternoon.

***

The next time Dustin calls to beg for permission for Hellfire to meet at your place, you agree without hesitation. The day before you work, but only until five. Eddie is waiting in his van in front of the store when you exit, a lit cigarette between his lips. You smile and hop in.

“I wasn't expecting you to pick me up,” you say as you buckle your seatbelt.

You know he had work at the record store today. Eddie takes one last drag of his cigarette and puts it out in the cup holder on his side. He’s been doing that ever since you yelled at him for flicking his butts out the window.

“Got out at four. I’m not gonna let my precious Coleman walk home if I can help it,” he shows off a goofy smile and starts to drive.

“You think I’m precious,” you coo.

“More precious than the One Ring,” he coos back.

“Okay, you've lost me.”

Eddie glances at you in disbelief.

“You have Henderson as a brother and you don't know Lord of the Rings?”

“Oh, that’s those books that read like textbooks, right?”

“Read like- Jesus Christ, I might have to rethink this whole situation,” he says to himself.

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I don’t have much time for reading. So, when I do, if it's not simple and to the point, I can't get into it.”

“Lord of the Rings is art. It’s a painting on paper.”

“Aren’t all paintings on paper?”

“Canvas,” he corrects, “you’re makin’ me feel real smart today.”

“Glad I can be of service,” you say sarcastically.

“Seriously, though. That’s like… my favorite thing other than D&D and music,” his voice is more tender, more serious.

And you, he thinks. It’s far too early to admit that. Doesn't mean he doesn't feel that way, though.

“Maybe I can give it another go,” you shrug.

Eddie throws a soft smile your way. You hold onto the warmth it fills you with for as long as you can. Eddie ends up staying the night, which isn't much of a surprise. It was clear he was expecting it because he brought his D&D bag with him. It did make setting up the next day easier since he was already there.

By the time Dustin shows up Eddie is all set up. You’re laying on the couch, Eddie is crouched beside you. His face is close to yours, a sly smile present. You’re busy giggling like a maniac at whatever he must have said. Dustin lets the screen door fall shut behind him. The sound of it slamming startles you and Eddie.

“What’s going on?” Dustin asks suspiciously.

Eddie smiles widely.

“Just telling Coleman here what’s in store for you guys today,” he says easily.

Dustin visibly stiffens. He doesn't find this situation as amusing as the two of you seem to.

“Coleman,” Dustin states, eyes set on you.

You can see the hurt. It’s been so long since you've corrected someone on your last name. You didn't think about how the sudden change might make Dustin feel rejected.

“Yeah, y’know, their last name,” Eddie eggs the conversation on, unaware of the ugly feelings bubbling up.

“I know their last name, Eddie,” Dustin snaps.

That clues Eddie into the sore nature of the subject. He glances apologetically between you and Dustin.

“Dustin, don’t be rude,” you chide.

“You two were at each other’s throats the last time I saw you together and you’re telling me not to be rude?”

“Well, we’re not at each other’s throats now. So, yeah, I am,” you begin catching Dustin’s own attitude.

You sit up, causing Eddie to stand.

“Whatever, it’s bullshit and you know it,” he rolls his eyes and throws his bag down next to the chair he usually occupies.

“Excuse me, what’s bullshit?” You question and stand up.

Eddie is watching helplessly. He can't help but feel like he incited this situation. Dustin gestures widely at the air around you and Eddie.

“You telling me what to do. You guys are friends today, but tomorrow you’ll probably be fighting again. Isn't that how it goes with you?”

Any emotion falls from your face. Your hands shake a bit. You won't let them see you break. You won't derail their night. Besides, Dustin is right. You and Eddie are good now, but you like to blow up all the good things in your life. Ever since your father died, the idea that anything good may be permanent feels more like a pipe dream. It’s easier to discard good things before good things discard you.

“Yeah, it is. I’m going to be in my room. Have fun with your campaign,” you mumble and storm past him to your room.

The door doesn't slam. It clicks shut calmly, which is scarier. Eddie rounds on Dustin.

“What the fuck is your problem, Henderson?” he demands.

“I don't have a problem.”

“You wanna talk about bullshit? What is it? Am I not good enough-”

“Eddie, you know that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Dustin takes a second. He sighs, closing his eyes, and then opening them once more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

The waver in Dustin’s voice throws Eddie off. His features soften as he looks at Dustin. Guilt washes over him. Sure, Dustin might be younger and Eddie might see him as a protege, or a younger brother, but he’s still one of Eddie’s best friends. Fuck, this was really shitty of him. He should have told Dustin he’s into you, regardless of how obvious it was. He should have told him you two have hooked up and are seeing where things go. Maybe not official, but exclusive. Instead, he acted like it didn't matter. Like it didn't matter that he’s seeing his best friend’s older sibling. Eddie runs an anxious hand over his face, stopping at his chin to hold it in thought.

“I’m really sorry, Dustin,” is all he can say in the end.

“I don't want an apology. I want an answer. I asked you so many times, Eddie. Every time you just dismissed me. I’m not stupid! And I don’t care! I’m happy for you, for both of you. I just… I just really wish you told me.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath. Dustin's words fall heavy on his shoulders. They're a weight he can tell he’ll be carrying for a while.

“I should’ve. I was afraid of what you'd think. What you’d say. It’s not an excuse, I know, but… I dunno I think this is real, man. It feels real.”

Dustin does what Eddie thought he may never do again. He hugs him. It takes Eddie a second to register, but once he does he hugs back tight. He’s hopeful when they separate.

“I think it’s great. Seriously, you both look really happy. But if you hurt them, Eddie, I’ll get Steve to beat you up.”

Eddie nods with wide eyes.

“Understood.”

“Okay, I have to go apologize,” Dustin sighs.

Eddie watches him disappear to your room. Mike and Will come strolling in. Eddie thanks whatever is out there that they showed after all that.

***

“So, we’ve been doin’ this a while now,” Eddie says, head lolling over to look at you.

You’re in your bed, fully clothed. These nights are Eddie’s favorite. Together in bed for the sake of being together in bed and nothing else. Eddie’s hair is splayed out behind him. The singular telephone pole light outside exposes the blush on his cheeks. It makes you smile. You like that you do that to him.

“I s’pose we have,” your voice is soft and quiet.

“D’you maybe wanna make this an official thing?”

He looks shy, nervous. It’s adorable.

“I’d love to be an official thing with you.”

“Metal,” he breathes with a smile.

You chuckle and press a joyful kiss on his lips. When you pull away Eddie can tell you have an idea. Your smile gets this funny little quirk when you get an idea.

“Since we’re an official thing, I guess you should formally meet my father,” you try to sound serious.

Pure confusion crosses Eddie’s face. You gesture to the set up on your dresser. A small urn and some photos. Understanding and then mischief lights up his face. He hops out of bed and stands before the dresser.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Eddie says and bows as if addressing a king.

You let out a little laugh. Then he’s staring tenderly at the photos. One from your third birthday. You're on your father’s lap covered in cake. Another is from one of the times he took you fishing. You’re around six in that particular photo. The final photo shows you at eight. Your father looks so much older despite it only being a few years. He’s paler, thinner, and more tired looking. You’re tucked into bed with him, asleep. Eddie can only assume it's the last photo you took with him.

“You were a cute kid,” he comments adoringly and jumps back into bed.

“What, I’m not cute now?” you tease.

“No, you're unreal now, remember,” he smiles.

You chuckle.

“You’re unreal too, Munson.”

One thing’s for sure, Eddie was right. This official thing is definitely real and it’s definitely it for both of you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic

1K notes · View notes

pupcuck · 3 months

Text

BELL JARS AND BUTTERFLIES !

ft. infinite darkness!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. emotional abuse, mom-son incest, power dynamics, sub leon, some references to past physical abuse not explicit tho, few drug references, p in v

note. hai :3 put id leon cuz that’s who i saw but!!! u can think ab whoever u want :3 thank u to @devilmayfuck for proofreading oh my gosh :3 still ignore mistakes bc I tend to make em while formatting! feedback n rbs so appreciated <3

tumblr removes fics that, for example, use tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

It’s no surprise that Leon breached contract and put his dick in his shrink. He tends to do these things around women that sound like school teachers. To be fair, the contract wasn’t his to breach, she’s totally taking advantage of his vulnerability or whatever.

“You still live with your mother, Leon?” It’s a statement, not a judgement, he takes offence either way.

“She’s sick,” Leon says, and it’s a bold-faced lie, they both know that she, his shrink, has his file. That you’re well and alive. He doesn’t like to talk about you to her. Mainly because what you have done to him is private, no one else needs to know, it’s the only thing no one knows about him— The only thing that’s not written across his dossier in bright red is that he and mommy have a less than sound relationship. It’s the only thing that is his.

“Sick?” She’s not much older than you, and she’s not as beautiful as you.

“Sick,” He confirms, and it’s not far from the truth. Physically sick, nah, but Mommy might be, she certainly is, the biggest narcissist Leon has encountered in all twenty-eight years of his shitty life, and that says something. ‘Cause Leon works with the US government. He’s owned by them, actually, to say he’s working would be a lie— He’s been owned all his life, first by mommy, then by work, and Leon has started to think it’s always going to be this way. That it’s okay because he doesn’t have to dissect, ache and hurt like he does when he’s thinking.

When she tries to probe further, as it is her job, her duty, in the same way it is Leon’s duty to save the world on any old Monday, he leaves. The apartment is his by lease, but Leon has never stayed long enough to call it a home, he’s never considered it anything more than where you are.

His fist knocks against the lacquered wood, and you answer a minute or so later. It doesn’t suit you. Trying to fit in with all the D.C career women, prim and polished and intelligent, that’s just not you. At your core, mommy is trailer trash through and through. Your smile is artificial, and your nightgown is too, it’s ill-fitting, the only thing you’ve worn well is his father’s anger. Leon thinks that if he wasn’t so full of the milk of compassion, whatever it is Lady Macbeth said, he would help you out. Show you what you’re truly worth. Unfortunately, all Leon would like, all he has ever wanted, is his mommy.

“Leon,” Your concern comes sparingly, so he takes what he can, head dropping to your shoulder. He melts. You’re about as friendly as a loaded gun, but Leon’s got suicidal tendencies and all that jazz. “Baby, what happened? You look so thin, my goodness, you must weigh less than me.” It’s true, looks like he weighs seventy pounds soaking wet. Skin stretched thin over his bones. Teetering from left to right on ankles so thin they’re ready to snap. “What’s this? Looks expensive.” Your eyes sparkle as you take in his appearance, tracing the fabric of his Armani tie with tenderness you have never given to him.

“Ma,” Leon mumbles into your neck, he stumbles past the threshold and the door clicks shut behind him. All he wants is a kiss or two.

“Leon,” You say his name the way you did before, “That’s not my name, darling, you used to be such a good boy.”

“Mommy,” He corrects himself, it’s always been mommy and no one else, “I’m sorry for— I’m sorry for leaving.”

“It’s not your fault, baby,” Whether he comes or goes, you don’t care, your flippant nature drives him insane. “You’re too much like your father.”

He is not. If Leon was anything like that man, more scum than blood and flesh and bones, your face would be in the concrete. But Leon is your son, and he is who you’ve made him to be. Cowardly. “I’m sorry,” The words dry up in his mouth when your nails rake down his clothed chest, a soft whine slips from the base of his throat, like he’s a dog. Then you scratch behind his ear, and he really is a dog, tail between his legs and everything.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Mommy says, and you pout at him— Did you get your lips done? The money wired over to your account is for necessities. He’s a civil servant, there's nothing classy about that. You piss him off. You do. But you’re his mommy, and he loves you.

The bed smells like you, it was his once, but you take over every aspect of his life. Eat away at any part of him that isn’t appropriate by your terms, a vetting process harsher than the DSO’s. Now Leon’s here, faced with the same hole he crawled out of. The same hole he wishes to crawl back inside. It was safe in there. Warm and quiet. Darkness cradling him like you never have. The one place in which he cannot move, speak or be. The closet he can get to that is stuffing his dick inside.

“Outside clothes on my bed,” You tut, lifting back the covers so you can undress him, “What’s this?” In your hand is an orange tube that you’ve swiped from his back pocket. Leon blinks as you squint at the label. “Oh, darling, you don’t need these, let mommy keep them safe, alright?” Leon nods. That was a new prescription, paroextine, fluoxetine made him a smidge less suicidal, meaning instead of wanting to drive his car off the side of a bridge anytime he got in, he simply drove without a seatbelt in hopes of being crushed to death by a thirty-two tonne truck. Natural selection or whatever. Side effects were shakes, to the point where Sherry was worried he went and got himself put down in the Guinness World Records Book as the youngest recorded case of Parkinson’s disease.

“I need those, ma,” His voice breaks when you tuck them into your bedside cabinet, facing him with your beautiful, cruel smile.

“You don’t need them, Leon,” You gesture for him to come closer, he does, presses his face into your tits, and lets you tell him what’s right and wrong. When it’s coming from you it will always be wrong, but he’ll listen anyway. “It’s not real, baby, you know that, don’t you? I thought you were smarter than this— Shouldn’t be wasting all your money on therapy of all things, I mean, you go to talk for an hour and that supposedly makes everything better?”

“Mm,” Leon makes a noise that is both a grunt and a hum. Please, for the love of god, shut up and get him off— Do something. Hold him. Comfort him. You’re his mother.

“Then they want you to take all these pills-“

“They’re meds, ma,” He corrects for the sake of his— Well, for the sake of nothing at all. Not his ego, not his dignity, they have been depleted completely.

“Meds, huh? You can get addicted fast, and then next minute you know, darling, you won’t be able to function without them- You’ll be like a zombie.” You kiss the top of his head, cooing softly when he raises his head to look up at you like the sad, wet dog he is.

“It’s not crack, ma.”

I know you wish it was.

For an indolent lady who spent half her time doped up on what could only be described as sludge, putting morphine in his milk bottle, you do talk a lot of shit.

“Hah,” Your face changes, you laugh anyway, “You’re so funny, Leon.” You tell him, and he thinks, obsessively, that he would do anything to hear that laugh again.

“Thanks, ma,” Leon’s unrest is mollified by the featherlight touch of your hand on his bare chest, your nail drags down his sternum, as if you’re splitting him in half. It digs into the toughness of his abdomen, he squirms, “That feels weird,” He mumbles, unable to voice out his dislike properly.

“Leon,” You sigh heavily, heavier than his cock in his briefs, “You don’t feel anything, my sweet thing, you’re all empty inside.” He’s a bell jar waiting for its butterfly.

“My poor baby, look at you, can’t do anything without mommy.” Without mommy Leon doesn’t know how to be a real person.

“Can’t eat,” You trace his ribs, sticking out in odd angles through a yellowed layer of skin, “Can’t sleep,” The hollows of his face, his sunken eyes, they tell you everything, “Can’t even breathe without me, can you Leon?” Without mommy he has to be kicked in the gut so his lungs remember what it’s like to breathe. He has to constantly be on the verge of death to know what it’s like to live. “It’s so tiring, darling, I’m too old to be taking care of you.”

“Mommy,” Leon pleads, helplessly, the only manner in which he can behave is helpless.

“Baby,” You toy with his waistband, “You need mommy to help you feel, don’t you?” Feeling should be innate to a human being, shouldn’t it? “Even when you were a baby, Leon, you only cried when mommy did, I used to think it was sweet, but now, darling, it’s gotten a little old.”

Leon whines softly, animal-like, caught by the ankle like a hunted stag, “I’m sorry, mommy— I can’t help it.”

“Oh, it can’t be helped, Leon,” Mommy says impassively, because it is such a chore to jerk off your mentally stunted almost thirty-year-old son. It’s not his fault. He didn’t choose to be this sex-mongering freak that needs to be punished to get off, to not feel ill— To be alive. You started it, and Leon’s sure you’ll end it. Brought him into this world, and you’ll take him right back out of it. At the drop of a hat too.

Your nail, red and glossy and a tad too sharp, presses into his leaking slit. One hand curled around his jaw, the other down his pants. You fish his cock from his boxers, “Mommy was waiting for you,” That makes his chest ache, knowing that he had crossed your mind even once for just a split second, god, he could die a happy man, “Every time you leave I get so worried, I start thinking, well, gosh, how is my Leon doing without his mommy?”

Bad. He does bad in general. Around you it’s bad. He is entirely bad at all times, at every minute, every passing second. With you it’s less bad.

“I just miss you,” Leon says, helplessly beyond help.

“All the time?”

“All the time,” He agrees.

“Oh, baby,” You coo.

“Do you… Did you miss me?” He asks, breathless, twisting in your grip like he’s fitting. Your touch is a million pinpricks on exposed nerves. There's no answer, you just stroke his dick instead, and his moan shatters like an ice fractal. Leon wants to ask and beg and demand— He turns stupid too quick when you cup his balls, squeeze ‘em hard.

“So noisy,” Mommy spits on her palm, real classy, a bit of your whore heritage comes out— See that, it’s a real Kennedy move, dad would be proud. Then you get his cock nice and wet, pumping his shaft as he leaks through the gaps in your fingers. “My sweet boy, you used to be so cute. I miss when you were blonde— It happened to your dad too, it’s a shame.”

“Sorry,” Leon says as if it is his fault natural progression took place, his hips bucking upwards into your fist, schlick, schlick, schlick.

“Well, there’s no need to be sorry about it, you can’t do anything about it, Leon,” Well, at least you’re sane enough to know that, “You know what you can do, darling?”

He shakes his head, abs contracting, balls tightening, ready to blow—

“Clean up before you come to see me,” Your hand is gone, his dick twitches like there’s a parasite inside of it waiting to burst out, “I’m not stupid, Leon,” Your palm sits on his cheek, looking at his stubble with distaste, “And you should shave, look too much like your dad otherwise.”

The scruff is purely out of neglect for his appearance. Leon has never put much thought into it, no one’s ever complained, he’s fuckable. Very fuckable. So fuckable— It’s just you. Mommy says and Leon scrambles to do.

“Off you go then,” You shoo him away, force him to pick his discarded clothes off the floor, he tosses them in the laundry basket. His shrink left the print of her brown foundation on his collar— That’s what you meant by clean up.

In the bathroom cabinet he finds a packaged razor covered in a film of dust. His hand is shaking, nicks his chin once, the sting is not half as bad as your touch. When Leon returns, the nightgown is off, folded neatly on the side, he almost trips over getting to you.

“Mommy,” Leon mumbles around a mouthful of tit, like a proper stupid baby, dumbed-down to fit mommy’s taste.

“I know, baby,” You kiss the crown of his head, stroking over until your fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, “Oh, there is just nothing inside of you but that big ol’ heart, huh?” It’s true. He’s empty but his heart. A heart that turns on its hind legs, rolling over onto its back for mommy and mommy only.

Leon hums, suckling on your nipple like he’s going to get milk out of it. “Can I—“ Leon lifts his head, ducks back down to avoid your scathing gaze.

“Can you what, baby?” You thumb his bottom lip, nail grazing his teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” He says, because he would like to fuck you.

“That’s not how you talk to mommy,” You go to push him off, but Leon shakes his head, and he is stronger— He is, he pins you down, presses his face into your neck. An apology that you accept.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” He’s trembling, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, didn’t mean to talk like that— I’m sorry, please, can we-“

“Fine,” You cut in, and he knows that mommy is a slut. More so than him. That you want it just as bad, you just like playing games.

Leon’s lips part when the tip of his fat cock sinks into your heat. He wishes that your hole would gape like the maw of a beast and swallow him up David Cronenberg style. Wouldn’t that be so fun?

There’s a falter in your breath when he bottoms out with a squelch. You try to be this way, so unaffected, but Leon knows that you’re a glutton for cock. Not his alone, which crushes him, any old dick would do for his mom. It’s how she got by way back when.

“I love you,” Leon moans into your mouth when let him kiss you for the first time tonight, he savours it, lets the taste linger, “I love you, mommy.”

You loop your arms around his neck, pull him closer so his cock is deeper, hitting your cervix with the fat head. The most he can do in your grip is move his hips back and forth shallowly, never allowing more than an inch out of your sweet cunt. It’s suffocating and yet he loves it. Your love is a cage. Contains him. Leon licks the droplet of salty sweat that trickles down between your tits, he spurs his hips forward, fucks you with all that he’s got— This is all he’s good for, just good to give you your fill of dick. That’s why you had a son.

“You can do it better than that, Leon,” You’re panting, eyes glassy as you smile your gorgeous smile at him, “I know you can.”

With a grunt, he fucks you with fervour, balls slapping against your ass, all the nasty shit you love. His dick jumps inside of you, and you gasp, biting down on your tongue as he slams into you once, twice, thrice— Oh, it's so over. Leon can’t help it. Mommy’s pussy is so warm, so hot and wet and tight. Your disappointment is tangible. No need to hide it.

We can work on that, his shrink usually says to mask her annoyance at his premature ejaculation.

Mommy just shakes her head while frowning.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” Leon’s body jolts, hips still moving despite the oversensitivity, his cum makes your cunt sloppier. He fucks it back into you like the filthy boy— man he is, so set on making you come undone that it comes across as a little freakish. Like he’s in a trance or some shit. “I’m so- I’m so sorry, mommy— Didn’t mean to— Fuck, I’m sorry, sorry—“

“Leon, stop that,” You place a hand on his chest. He stops. Leon is good at that. Taking instruction no matter how life-threatening, no matter how embarrassing, he’ll do it to be worth something.

“I’m so sorry,” He croaks, truly humiliated by his dick’s lack of selflessness. Shit just cums without Leon telling it to do so.

Mommy pats his head, “It’s okay, baby, you’re only a stupid little boy, aren’t you?”

Leon nods. Mhm. Mhm. Yup. Yup. That he is. Mommy’s stupidly depraved little boy. Just makes sense.

God, yes. “Yes, mommy,” Leon finds himself face to face with your cunt. One that popped him out. A well-beaten yet pretty pussy, because all of you, to Leon, is beautiful no matter how worn out. He parts your cushioned lips, teeth tugging at your labia as he dribbles his spit over your fat pussy. His cum sticks to your inner-thighs, a shiny trail that dries up before he can lick it up and spit it back onto your puffy cunt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at his hair till he’s sure the roots have weakened and now he’s even more prone to male pattern baldness than he was before. Leon focuses his attention on your clit, it’s small and fleshy on the tip of his tongue, the more he sucks the more you drip drop and fill his mouth with your slick. Crazy that is. The clit. It’s just a gift that keeps on giving. And it's good both ways. Leon gets to quell that urge, the sucking on a tit urge, and mommy cums so hard her thighs snaps shut around his head. Your back bows off the bed, and god dammit is he proud.

With the lower half of his face covered in your wetness, Leon re-emerges to kiss you. “That’s enough, darling,” You tell him after the fifth and final kiss. He holds onto it. He just wants you, his mommy. Is it so bad to want?

“I love you, mommy,” Leon says for what might be the third or hundredth time of the night.

“I know, darling,” Your nose bumps his, “I did miss you, Leon, if I’m being honest.”

“Really, mommy?” His heart skips a beat or two. God, it might’ve fucking stopped. Then he’d just be a doll of some sort. The rarest collectors doll that mommy could put in a glass case and show off and dust off— Well, to think she’d care enough to dust him off, Leon has a bit of an overactive imagination.

“Really, darling.” Mommy nods, and he’ll take it. He’ll take it and treasure it.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy angst #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy angst #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil angst

195 notes · View notes

scoops-aboy86 · 3 months

Text

I imagine that if Eddie could do magic, he would (as a young teen and therefore a dumbass with a poor grasp of the possible repercussions) try to cast a love spell to make Steve fall in love with him. It's the start of his sophomore year; Steve is just an incoming freshman who no one's really noticed yet, but Eddie is instantly smitten with the impeccable hair, the soulful hazel eyes, and that cute dazed look on his face he gets whenever surprised.

Does he dare even try to talk to Steve? No. Eddie already has zero social standing as a weird nerd who lives in a trailer park and Cannot Sit Still to save his life—which on other people would make them funny class clown material, but for some reason on him makes teachers angry and classmates roll their eyes. Just talking to Steve, Eddie is sure, would be a disaster. And even if he could, chances are Steve is straight and at best Eddie would eventually get punched in the face for admitting his feelings for the other boy.

So. Witchcraft. Chant chant chant, a possession of Steve's dropped in a bubbling cauldron, a blown out candle, and boom.

Only Eddie muffed the spell. Instead of Steve falling in love with Eddie, everyone falls in love with Steve. The spell isn't even strong enough to cause obvious problems; all the girls want him, all the boys want to be him, but there aren't, like, mobs forming over the guy's affection (or lack thereof). Eddie resigns himself to (a) being shitty at magic and (b) never getting Steve.

From Steve's perspective, his whole life changed overnight. Suddenly he's on the map at Hawkins High in a big way. He makes varsity basketball as a freshman, and at the same time is allowed to join the swim team despite the conflicting schedules. Girls are falling over themselves to go out with him. And it's great!

For a while. In some ways.

It gets him his parents' approval right up until November of 1983, when he starts to realize that maybe he hasn't really learned how to build a real relationship with someone, because all he knows is dates falling into his lap and girls looking for the social status that comes with bagging King Steve. That prowess on the basketball court doesn't mean very much when monsters crawl out of the walls and all he has to hand is a baseball bat full of nails. That a girl died in his pool because of a party he threw and him and his friends doing stupid teen shit like shotgunning beers. That the friends he's had since he became King Steve are, actually, pretty much all assholes.

After that first brush with the Upside Down, Steve stops trying to be popular. He stops throwing house parties, drops swimming, stops funding the basketball team's beer and weed purchases, and really tries (with Nancy's help) to buckle down and study.

But the spell is still in effect, so even with all that, everyone still wants a piece of him. He still goes to parties, and whenever Nancy isn't free to tag along there are always girls trying to hang off him, no matter how many times he reminds them that he's already seeing someone. Eventually he gives up, and while he doesn't cheat (he might have dated around a lot, but never with overlap; he is not his dad) he stops putting in the effort to shoo them away.

(Eddie, meanwhile, watches all of this from the sidelines and kind of hates the person he thinks Steve is now. He's not entirely wrong, because the popularity did go to Steve's head for a long time, and there are plenty of ways in which Steve's really isn't a better person for it. But Eddie also isn't close enough to see who he's trying to become now, and he's also still a little bitter in nursing his own bruised heart.)

After breaking up with Nancy and falling in with the Party, Steve starts to get even more frustrated with his lingering popularity. The rest of his senior year is still all girls fawning over him and guys being jealous (sometimes with a nasty edge to it now, like Tommy and Billy). On top of the nightmares left over from encounters with demogorogons and demodogs, it really brings out Steve's bitchy side. He stops dating, stops going to parties, stops trying to achieve in his classes in favor of coasting (and hating that all his teachers let him do it, while picking on kids like Eddie who are actively trying and just not very good at it).

One day, Eddie finds King Steve at the picnic table in the woods, looking to buy weed. Steve doesn't bat an eye when super-senior Munson names his price (double what he usually charges, but it's not like Steve has ever bought directly from anyone before so it's not like he'd know), and says that if it helps him sleep he'll start buying regularly.

Suddenly, Steve is in a slightly better mood at school all the time. He still brushes pretty much everyone off and only hangs out with middle schoolers, but he's nicer about it.

And he starts going to parties again. But he doesn't dance, and he doesn't drink all that much. A lot of the time he doesn't even stick around very long. He'll turn up and people watch, bopping his head in time with the music if it's a song he likes, and park himself by whatever food the party has to offer. Chips, popcorn, the occasional pizza—nothing extensive, most of the kids who come to these parties are there for the booze and the makeout opportunities. Sometimes Steve buys from Eddie if he's there, offers to share joints with him that Eddie, still wary, turns down. When the food runs out, Steve leaves.

See, the weed definitely helps him sleep. It also gives him the munchies, and Steve has sort of gotten into the habit of just... eating. It's not like his parents are around to notice, and Dustin and the other kids don't care as long as he springs for extras so they can have some too. No one at school would dare say it to his face, and somehow it still doesn't manage to fully tank his slightly flagging reputation, but Steve is definitely starting to put on weight.

Then he graduates, and... nothing. King Steve drops off the map.

For everyone except Eddie, anyway, because Steve still buys. And Eddie has started to relax his no-smoking-with-Steve policy lately. Between the weed and the public eye no longer pinning him in a spotlight, Steve has become an incredibly chill dude. He doesn't even mind that he didn't get into any of the colleges he applied to (or any of the ones his parents insisted he applied to either, but that's a more clear-cut relief), something he confides in Eddie around the time they start hanging out outside of sales because his dad is demanding that he get a summer job. Pros include more money for weed (although Eddie has relaxed his prices as well), but cons include less free time. Steve says Eddie can visit him at work though, and he'll hook him up with freebies and discounts.

Visiting Steve at his Scoops Ahoy job is both a visual treat for Eddie and how he finds out that he's basically Steve's only friend his own age. Those shorts, man, and even with the extra weight Eddie still thinks Steve looks great. Everything that first attracted him to Steve (the eyes, the slightly comical dopiness, and the hair, regardless of the little sailor's hat) is still there, plus big hands, broad shoulders, an endearing grin, and just... Steve.

Maybe, Eddie realizes, if he'd never done that spell at all, he could have gotten to know Steve like this years ago. He never feels like Steve's last choice when they spend time together, and definitely doesn't mind that Steve seems to forget how much space he takes up these days and always sits a little too close, whether it's on the picnic table bench or on the couch at Eddie's trailer or in a Scoops booth. Steve is goofy and sweet and a little lame, but he brings his own snacks and lets Eddie talk straight through the Star War movies and the animated Lord of the Rings film, reeling off every bit of trivia and his own personal opinions he can. Every now and then, Steve even goes out of his way to ask questions about d&d and listens to the answers.

Forget smitten, Eddie Munson is in love.

(… Okay, I thought about it some more, here's part 1. Now tagged as #love spell no go au. And there's also a part 1.5, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11.)

#wg steddie #chubby steve harrington #this started out as a thought but it quickly got away from me #might continue thinking about this later #love spell no go au

107 notes · View notes

thisapplepielife · 5 months

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

3AM

Prompt Day 14: Angst with a Happy Ending | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Post-S4, Self-Sabotage, Post Break-Up, Hurt/Comfort, Making Up, Eddie POV

it's all gonna end, and it might as well be my fault

Eddie can't sleep. Hasn't been able to in weeks. Not since Steve's been gone. Eddie ran him off for good this time, he's pretty sure. You can only push someone away so hard, for so long, before they actually listen and stay gone.

Steve has stayed away this time. And Eddie's been too stubborn to just call him, and say he's sorry. That he didn't mean it. That, of course, this thing between them is something real. The look on Steve's face when Eddie'd argued that this was just fumbling hands and mouths, just fucking, just bullshit, is seared into Eddie's mind. He can't see anything else but that look on Steve's face. That hurt.

That hurt, he caused.

Just because he was scared. He pushed Steve away before Steve had the chance to leave on his own. Jesus H. Christ, he's a goddamn idiot.

He rolls over onto his other side, and decides that's not any better, and rolls back again. He looks at the clock, and it's three a.m. It's useless. He climbs out of bed, grabbing his cigarettes and lighter. He walks out onto the porch, and lights one up. Inhaling deeply.

He looks down the street, and sees a familiar car parked along the curb.

Eddie's barely dressed, just a t-shirt and his boxers, but he heads down the sidewalk. He leans down to look inside the car, and Steve is looking back at him.

Eddie flicks his cigarette away, knowing he can't smoke in Steve's car, and slides inside.

"What are you doing out here?" Eddie asks.

"Couldn't sleep," Steve says quietly, leaning his head back against the headrest.

"Same," Eddie says.

"Sorry for lurking," Steve says, eyes closed.

Eddie just hums in acknowledgement that he heard Steve.

"Is this ever gonna get better? Between us?" Steve asks.

"There is no us," Eddie says. And it's mean. Too mean. He's just tired.

"Yeah, trust me. I'm aware you don't want me around. That's a signal I actually read loud and clear."

"Steve."

"I know. Don't bother. I'm bullshit."

"You're not bullshit. Stop saying that," Eddie says, cutting a look his way.

"Then why don't you love me? Why doesn't anyone ever want me to love them?"

All Eddie wants is for Steve to love him.

"Steve, this has nothing to do with you."

Steve laughs, low and dry. It's cynical.

"Yeah. It's not me. Right. It's never me."

Eddie reaches over and touches Steve's thigh, "It's not. It's me. You're too good for me. You're going places."

Steve laughs, a little unhinged. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But you could. You should. Run. Flee. Get out of this town and never look back."

"Well, that's not happening. So, I guess I'll just stay here and be miserable. And you can stay and be miserable, and we'll both just be miserable."

Eddie hates to hear Steve sound this weary.

"You don't want me," Eddie says.

"You're all I want! How do you not know that?" Steve yells in the confined space, scrubbing his hand over his face, pinching his nose. He's worn out. Exhausted. Eddie can tell, and he hates it.

"Steve, I don't-"

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't have been out here. You don't have to talk to me. You don't have to do anything with me," Steve says, turning the key over, bringing the engine of his car to life.

It's Eddie's cue to go. Eddie knows that, but he can't seem to make himself budge. He thinks if he does, that this might be the last time he ever sees Steve Harrington.

And as much as Eddie doesn't want to drag Steve down with him, he can't seem to let him go. Not again.

"Steve," Eddie tries again, and Steve's put the car in drive and has pulled up the few feet to the little house they moved into after the trailer collapsed into that split in the earth.

"We're at your stop," Steve says, eyes forward, not looking at him.

"I just want-"

"Either get out now, or I'm leaving and you're coming home with me."

Eddie crosses his arms, not reaching for the door handle, and true to his word Steve pulls away from the curb.

It's a quiet ride back to his big, empty house. When Eddie gets out, he's acutely aware he's in his underwear and has no shoes. But he follows Steve into the house, and straight up the carpeted staircase.

Steve pushes open the door to his bedroom, and starts undressing. Stripping down to his underwear, crawling in bed.

That's when he finally looks at Eddie, and stretches his arm out. An open invitation.

Eddie takes it.

He slides into bed with Steve, and buries his face in Steve's chest. Steve wraps both arms around him, and holds him close. Resting his chin on the top of Eddie's head.

"Are you done being an idiot?" Steve finally asks. Soft and quiet in the darkness.

"Yeah," Eddie says, because he is.

Eddie's quiet for a few seconds, then laughs, "You kidnapped me."

"Guess you shouldn't get into cars with strangers, then," Steve says, teasing, pulling him closer, "See you in the morning."

And Eddie knows it's Steve's way of saying Eddie better be right here when he wakes up. Eddie understands that fully, and he will be. He's done running. He loves him too much. Even if deep down, Eddie thinks Steve would be better off without him.

Eddie's eyes are heavy, the lack of sleep hitting him hard. He closes his eyes, and that's it.

The sun is streaming through the windows, and right into Eddie's eyes. He whines, and rolls over, cuddling against Steve who is still sleeping through the onslaught of sunlight ushering in the brand new day.

They have a lot of things to work out, Eddie knows that, but he is also certain that he never wants to run from Steve Harrington.

Notes: Title and lyric at the top is from Matchbox Twenty's song 3AM. Thank you Spotify for feeding this to me when I didn't have an idea for this prompt, lol.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #angst with a happy ending #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

129 notes · View notes

drivinmeinsane · 6 months

Text

Shot Through the Heart

※ Colt Seavers x GN!Reader ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: You've worked with Colt off and on for years, building an easy rapport with the stuntman. The rest of the crew sends you to check up on him after he's bad off following a stunt that seems to have caused his nearly career-ending injury to act up.

※ Rating: T for suggestive themes.

※ Content/Tags: Fluff, Caretaking, No use of y/n, Mentions of old injury, Budding Love, Pre-Relationship, Solely based on the official trailer uploaded to YouTube by Universal Pictures

※ Word count: 3,052

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: The devil works fast but I work faster. That three and a half minute long trailer sure possessed me. Needless to say, I'm excited for the movie's release in a few months.

The setting sun is blinding you on its long journey below the horizon. You squint against the light at the block of apartments as you pull your vehicle into a stop alongside the curb. You really hope you’re at the right location. You’re not sure if you trust your crewmates to have given you the right address. You honestly did not really want to be here at all. Many of the crew for this particular production had worked with Colt before, so it really was wildly unfair that you had been unanimously volunteered to check up on the man after he was a no-show for the past couple days. Sure, he had called, but no one had actually laid eyes on him to verify his condition.

You put your car into park and open the door to step out into the evening heat. You immediately feel smothered by the warmth, and you reach across your center console to grab the items crowding your passenger seat. You withdraw, burdened, and nudge the door closed with your knee. You manage to hit the lock button on your key fob before you duck into the small parking garage. A flood of relief washes over you when you immediately spot Colt’s obnoxious brown and yellow truck. There are surfboards still resting in the bed of the vehicle. It’s parked haphazardly with no regard for anyone else’s need for the space. You’re in the right place at least. You skirt around it, eyes scanning for apartment numbers. You mutter his unit number under your breath while you look for it. You’re juggling a heating pad, multiple ice packs, and a bag of food. You’re not sure what you’re going to be walking into.

After what feels like an eternity of searching, you finally locate what you hope is his front door. With your hands full, you contemplate figuring out how to knock. You finally decide to just bang on the wood with your elbow. There’s no response or any whispers of movement. You sigh and hit it again, more aggressively. You know he’s home. The lifted monstrosity in the parking garage is proof enough. He avoids going anywhere without it.

You double down and are in the middle of hammering on the door for a third time when you finally hear muffled cursing gradually getting louder as the apartment’s occupant gets closer. To your relief, it’s Colt Seavers himself who yanks the door open hard enough you’re briefly worried he’s going to pull it right off the hinges. You open your mouth, about to launch into a bantering complaint about how he left you to rot on his doorstep when you register what exactly you’re looking at.

The man crowding the doorway is wet, straight from an interrupted shower. His shaggy, blond hair is falling into his eyes. The light from the setting sun reflects an orange glow on the water droplets racing down his body. He looks like he’s on fire. You drag your eyes from his obscenely exposed chest to his face. You try to pretend that you’re not talking to a very damp, very naked man preserving the last dregs of his modesty with only a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. You’ve just agreed with yourself not to acknowledge how large his hand looks clutching the fabric.

“Where’s the fire?” He asks. His annoyance fades away at the realization that you’re the one bothering him out of the blue.

“The guys sent me on a welfare check. We haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’m clearly alive so you’re welcome to-” He pantomimes you leaving by walking his fingers in the air “-report back that I haven’t died yet.”

“Welfare, not proof of life. Besides, you look like shit and I brought some supplies.” You argue, raising your arms to show your wares.

He looks like he’s thinking about pushing the issue, but he deflates, exhausted. He purposely lets out a dramatically weary sigh and gives you only the barest amount of space to get past him. You squeeze through the door, grazing against his wet arm. You hear him close and lock the front door behind you while you openly gawk at his apartment.

“You live like this?” You ask, slightly aghast. The place is a mess. There are plants and exercise equipment everywhere. The stuntman hovering behind you clearly has his priorities.

“Sure do. Just going to go finish rinsing off. I’d say make yourself comfortable but you’re already on your way,” he remarks, casting an amused glance at the way you’re wobbling while trying to extract yourself from your shoes with no hands.

You frown at his back as you watch him skirt around you and head in the direction of his bathroom. He’s moving jerkily, almost stumbling. His back is definitely messed up. You really hope it’s something that you will be able to assist with in some capacity. You know first hand how stunt work takes a toll on the human body.

Following the sound of a television, you manage to make your way to the living area. You shove over some electrolyte packets and gardening tools on his coffee table to create room for the bag of food that you made for him. The heating pad and ice packs get dumped on the floor next to one of the legs. As for yourself, you settle in on his couch to wait. You’re not surprised to see that he’s left an Indiana Jones movie playing on the screen. It seems like the kind of thing he would watch.

From the bathroom, you hear some muffled complaining before the shower kicks on. The sound of the rushing water does little to cover the noise of the shower curtain hooks on the rod as he wrestles with the material. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, thankful you didn’t hear Colt fall trying to get over the edge of the tub. The last thing you wanted was to wrestle your naked crewmate while on the phone with emergency services.

Only a few minutes pass before the water cuts off and you hear the door open. You can’t help but notice that you didn’t hear the sound of his bedroom door closing. There’s just the sound of footsteps and rustling fabric. He emerges, wearing a pair of garish pajama pants. He’s still distractingly shirtless, because why wouldn’t he be? It’s not as though he has a guest that is trying very hard to be normal about this entire situation. There’s a towel draped over his bare shoulders in the effort to contain the mess produced by his sopping wet hair. Trails of water are running down his neck and soaking into the cloth.

Colt practically drags himself over to you. He lowers himself onto the cushion at your side, and makes an effort to avoid leaning against the back of the couch. You turn to face the blond man, taking a hard look at him. He looks even worse up close than he did when he greeted you at the door. Exhaustion is deepening the fine lines in his face and his eye bags nearly have their own luggage.

“How are you doing? Really?”

He gives you one of his goofy grimaces and flashes a thumbs up. He can’t hide the wince as movement pulls at his back muscles. The look you give him in return is unimpressed.

“Can you even function?”

“Barely,” he says with a groan as he tries to get a little more comfortable. He still looks painfully stiff.

You suppress the urge to give him a comforting pat on the leg and instead lean over to dig the meal you had brought for him out of the bag. You shove a tupperware container, a wrapped sandwich, and a plastic fork at him until he takes them. He looks bewildered.

“Eat. The dressing is in the small container hanging out in the salad greens.”

“Did you make this yourself?”

“I’ve worked with you enough times to know how you are, so yes.” You admired the man’s discipline, but it had been cause for concern while you desperately scoured your kitchen looking for something to make that wasn’t going to fall under the umbrella of junk food.

“Maybe I should reinjure myself more often then,” he says with a smirk and raises his eyebrows. You don’t dignify him with a response.

He balances the container of salad on the armrest next to him and sets to work on unwrapping the sandwich. It’s grilled chicken breast with a truly ridiculous amount of lettuce and tomato. You hadn’t dumped condiments on it, not wanting it to get soggy during the car ride.

“I’m here to play nursemaid so can I do something about all of that? '' You gesture to his dripping hair and his hunched over body.

He looks up from the sandwich like he’s holding something precious in his hands. “You made me this. You can do anything you want with me. I’ve only got a few limits.”

You roll your eyes at his suggestive tone before rising up onto your knees. You shuffle closer, knees mere inches away from grazing the outside of his thigh. The towel slips freely from his shoulders and he doesn’t complain when you drape it over his head. You gently work the material over his hair. Colt starts in on the sandwich while you work carefully to dry him without putting unnecessary pressure or movement on him. You take a corner of the towel and wipe away the water that has trailed down his face and his neck. You don’t go any further down than his collarbone not daring to drag the fabric over his chest. You have to cling to some level of professionalism between coworkers. He leans into the touches in the areas you are willing to wipe dry. You pretend not to notice.

He eats like he’s been starving ever since the last day you and the rest of the crew had seen him on set. He probably had been if he was still in this bad of shape days later. You leave him to start in on the salad. On your way to hang the towel over the shower curtain rod to dry, you stumble over a stray weight that had been left in the middle of the floor. You manage to suppress your pained noises despite the tears leaping to your eyes. Why had you been volunteered for this? Your crewmates had been suspiciously giggly and evasive when you had protested. They had just made excuses and jokes about how you were Colt’s favorite person and you being the one to check on him would make his day. What a load of crap.

“What do you usually do for your back?” You ask, coming back into the room and trying to not let on you nearly had your own medical emergency just out of sight.

“Just uh… stick the tens on it and stretch it out.”

“Gotcha. Finish that up and we’ll start on your back,” you tell him. You crouch down next to the coffee table and gather the ice packs. You won’t be using them today. The injury has sat for too long.

“Thanks, nurse,” he responds around a mouthful of greens.

You cross the apartment and pull open the door to the freezer. You cram the ice packs onto an already sizable stack of them sandwiched between the freezer wall and bags of frozen vegetables. The refrigerator itself is covered in receipts, bills, coupons, business cards, brochures… You’re really not sure how Colt is able to find anything. You suppose that it’s all his own brand of organized chaos.

You make your way back to the living room in time to see him clamp the lid back on the tupperware container. You give your head a little shake. The man inhaled an entire sandwich and a salad in under fifteen minutes. Impressive. You hope his stomach handles going from zero to a hundred with more grace than yours would. You don’t feel like holding his hair back while he vomits.

“How do you want to do this? Floor, couch, or bed?”

He twinges his back when he twists to look up at you. You’d laugh if you hadn’t felt a sting of worry at the way he winced. You know Colt’s a tough man. You have seen him take hit after hit over the past few years. He must be hurting badly to be showing this much sincere discomfort. You’ve seen him ham it up as a joke, but this was the real deal.

“I’m glad one of us thinks I’ll be able to get off the floor. How about you take me to bed, beautiful?”

He heaves himself off the couch and you trail after him into his bedroom. The floor is messy like the rest of the house. You’re not sure if he’s always this disorganized or if it was just something that has resulted from him not being able to keep up with it due to his back. Given the state of his fridge, you’re strongly considering that it’s the former and not the latter.

“How do you want me?” The flirtatious tone isn’t quite coming through as intended with him standing like he’s auditioning for the starring role in a live action adaptation of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“On your stomach, please. Do you have lotion or anything I can use on you?”

He groans as he makes his way onto the bed and lays face down. He’s unable to relax, the muscles in his back are too tight. “I have some vaseline in the bathroom. Right drawer.”

You set the heating pad down on the bed next to him after plugging it in. You make another trek to the bathroom to search for the aforementioned vaseline. It’s not hard to locate and you manage to dodge the weight this time. You’re not about to wreck your foot on it again. Once was enough.

You settle on the bed next Colt, careful not to jostle him. You swipe your fingers though the vaseline to collect a sizable dollop of the substance. You set the container aside and liberally coat your hands with what you had scooped out. Your eyes catch on the long scar running alongside the stuntman’s spine. It’s pink and raised, a fairly old wound but not old enough to fade to silver. You weren’t there when Colt got the injury. You’d been on another set halfway across the world, but the things you’d heard months later from people who had been present when it happened weren’t good. He had nearly died and if he had… you would have just been left with memories spanning the hours spent with this cocky man. You would have likely said a few words at his funeral, if you had even been able to make it, and that would have been the end of Colt Seavers. He would be just another stuntman who died doing what he loved. The thought puts a pit in your stomach. You push it aside, he’s still alive and he’s waiting for you to get on with the program.

The initial touch of your hands against his bare back causes you both to tense up and go deathly quiet. Your pulse is hammering in your years and you swear you can hear the sound of his throat as he swallows. You try to not knee him in the side as you start to massage the expanse between his broad shoulders. It’s not long before he’s melting into the mattress, relaxing under your touch. You work him over, section by section. You gently knead the raised line of scar tissue, helping to discourage the excess building of collagen. A little lower and he’s groaning when you carefully dig your knuckles into the skin above his waistband, forcing the tight muscles to yield. He’s limp and unresistant when you catch him by the hip and pull his pelvis in your direction to better align his spine.

Thankfully, you spot an already dirty shirt nearby. You pick it up and wipe your hands on it with a grimace. Most of the vaseline has either ended up on the man currently face down on his bed or had absorbed into your palms, but you still didn’t want to risk tracing it through the house before you slathered your hands in dish soap to remove any oily residue. As a final token of care, you lay the heating pad across his lower back and turn it on the medium setting. You’ve done all you can do for him.

Colt is so still and quiet that you’re sure he’s fallen asleep. You turn away from him and inch towards the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him while you begin your exit from his apartment and back to your vehicle. You nearly leap out of your skin when he shifts enough to catch hold of your forearm. His hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb nearly touch.

“Please stay.” He sounds tired, vulnerable. There’s no charisma or bravado to his voice.

You feel your face soften as you take in his words. “All right.”

You scoot back towards him and lay down on your back at his side. The bed is barely big enough for the both of you like this. It’s intimate, too intimate, especially since your arm is still in his grasp. You can’t bring yourself to mind. The line between being coworkers and whatever this is was blurred a long time ago anyway despite your best efforts to tell yourself otherwise. You're starting to realize your crewmates might have been more aware than you were. Those assholes.

When Colt rises up onto one elbow and leans over, taking all the time in the world to project his intentions, you don’t turn from him. You just bring a hand up to brush his still damp hair out of his face. You guide the stuntman the rest of the way in, your hand migrates to cup his bearded cheek. The kiss you share is inevitable and unhurried. It feels as natural as breathing.

#the fall guy (2024)#the fall guy #colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #ryan gosling #ryan gosling character #the fall guy fanfic #colt seavers fanfic #my work #my posts

112 notes · View notes

eddieandbird · 1 year

Text

We’ve all seen Eddie’s signature four rings, but he has many more of them sitting in a repurposed cookie tin. Eddie would have phases of introducing accessories into his outfits. It started with his guitar pick necklace. He struggled to find a pick any time he would practice in his room. They were always hiding in the nooks and crannies of his desk, getting lost in the mountains of papers and dirty dishes. Rather than doing a deep clean of his room, Eddie found a way to keep his pick on him at all times. With a lighter, a safety pin, and an old dog tag from Wayne, he put together his favorite necklace.

From there, Eddie stole jewelry from his *customers* and thrifted the rings and bracelets he would swap out from time to time. Eddie considered getting a couple of piercings, but his secret fear of needles caused him to opt out. When Wayne notices Eddie’s interest in jewelry, he would add to Eddie’s collection, joking that soon they’ll have a whole wall of silver chains next to their collection of hats and mugs around the trailer.

What would really impress you is how much Eddie would love talking to you about fashion. While the other couples at the mall would consist of girlfriends excited to shop and their boyfriends that were dragged out there to have a miserable time, Eddie would be the exception. He would actively pay attention to you trying on clothes, complimenting your appearance, and giving suggestions on how to build your outfits. Eddie is beyond caring about looking “girly” for it. He knows all rockstars have an iconic look and was happy to explore until he found his.

#trying something new lmk what yall think 🙈#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader #eddie pov #eddie notes #birds headcanons #eddie munson headcanons

161 notes · View notes

ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

Text

A look to open up the skies // e.m x gn!reader

A/N: I, the author, wanted to chat with Wayne on the trailer steps and spend some time with him. Talk about Eddie and how good and kind he is even with how rough his life has been. Wrote this on my work breaks across a few days so I hope it makes sense! No word count available because my laptop is at a repair shop so I can’t do my usual counts.

Total self-insert and self-indulgent but it's all about the moment and no reader details given!💕

TW; reader smokes (I don't smoke myself so apologies for inaccuracies, it was a creative liberty I took with the piece to give Wayne & Y/N something to do together), cigarettes, canon angst surrounding Eddie & how rough his life has always been, reader cries, confessions, bonding with Wayne.

Fic specific tags: @disturbedbeautywrites @comfortcharactercraze @decadentpaperduck @munsonsuccubus @eponaartemisa @epicfallenismine @silky-luxe @jslittlebirdie @lancey-mcclain

Eddie & Wayne tags: @hellfirebabe @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @bakerstreethound @gemstone-roses @sweetpeapod @authorlovers @jslittlebirdie @epicfallenismine @comfortcharactercraze

Eddie Munson tags: @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @gemstone-roses @hellfire1986baby @jslittlebirdie @comfortcharactercraze @mywinterivy

(SEND AN ASK TO BE PUT ON MY EDDIE & WAYNE TAGLIST OR ON MY EDDIE TAGLIST OR BOTH)

"Oh, I know that look. Seen it 'fore a few times." There's a fond knowing in Uncle Wayne's voice as he joins you on the trailer steps, the look on his face is one of concern and patience. He had long ago learned that you opened up like a flower; slowly and then all at once. But only if you weren't pressured. That made you clam up so fast no one would even know you had been thinking of opening up. You were a lot like Eddie in that respect.

Wayne busies himself with lighting up a cigarette, offering one to you as well with a casualness borne from familiarity and routine. You often sit out on the steps together, just like this, about everything and nothing and all those fascinating spaces in between. You take a cigarette and hold it in your fingers, not making a move to smoke it. Just holding it as Wayne's warmth sunk into you like a hug, causing that stinging in the backs of your eyes and nose. You inhale deeply and Wayne shakes his head as he exhales his first lungful.

"Don't hold it in," he glances at you, still holding that cigarette with a faraway look in your eyes, "that shit's as bad for you as these things are." He lights up your cigarette for you... Another easy display of affection which makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

At his fatherly words, you do cry, you let yourself go a little. Wayne shuffles across the steps to you, holds the cigarette in the other hand so he can wrap an arm around your shoulder. He is unmoving, just lets you cry and breathe in your own time. The nicotine helps.

The Munsons have always encouraged you to blossom in your own time and way, with no judgement or hesitation.

"Just been thinking about Eddie," you sniffle. You totally miss the way Wayne's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but you do feel him stiffen up, and you shake your head, "not like that," your voice is gentle in an attempt to soothe the way Wayne immediately gets defensive of Eddie. That protective streak of his has definitely been inherited by Eddie, and the intensity of it always takes your breath away. "He's had it so rough, all his life, but he's - " crying harder now, Wayne begins to rub your shoulder and upper arm in slow and fluid motions. "He's still so kind and he's so good, and he - " you swipe your tears away, turn your face away from Wayne to do so. He gives you that space easily, not a word said about it.

Life with the Munsons has always been so natural and free.

"He deserves so much better and I don't know, I just got thinking about it and then I got all sad so I came outside so Eddie couldn't see me... Didn't wanna make him upset either."

Wayne is staring off towards the Mayfield trailer, eyebrows knit together in contemplation as he listens to you. "I seen a lot of what Eddie went through... Always wanted to protect him. Took him in as soon as I had a chance. Was tough, for a while there - " Wayne made a noise you weren't sure how to interpret. Disgust? Disappointment? Derision? "His old man taught him well. Too well, you ask me. Best thing those pieces of shit did, sending him to me. Not that the kid had a choice.” Oh, there was a story. You didn’t ask; wasn’t the time nor the place. “Had to fight like hell to teach him all the right things after what they did to him but my boy's done me proud."

You smile at the love in Wayne's voice. You have always loved and admired the relationship Wayne and Eddie had with each other. If there was a real father and son dynamic in all of Hawkins, it’s between the Munsons. And they live on the edge of town. Both belonging and not.

"I just... Eddie is so good even with everything he's been through and still goes through... Does he even realise how brave that is? To choose to be kind, even though being mean would be..." Easier? Is what you don't say.

Wayne always understands, no matter how much you leave unsaid. He's seen the world and its many cruelties, he always gets it. "I suppose he has his ways of getting through it," you were so lost in your head still that you didn't realise that Wayne was lighting up another cigarette. You had barely smoked the one you were holding, ash falling onto the trailer steps, so he didn't offer you another one. It was a bad habit anyway. "We all do. He's got his music, his guitar, his Hellfire and the friends he's made with them kids... And he's got you. Me. He's not alone in it."

We protect him.

Is what you're both thinking.

You both lapse into silence but it's your sniffle and the way you press into Wayne's hold that makes him rest his chin against the side of your head.

"You tell him?"

You shake your head. "Didn't know how. Eddie just... Brushes it off. But I've heard him cry when he thinks he's alone and if I try to go in there, he stops or - " I'm not sure if he'd appreciate me crying over him.

“No, my boy, he…” Wayne shakes his head, “he’s gonna wanna hear this, darlin’. He doesn’t think he deserves love… even now, I gotta fight him just to let me in sometimes. But he does. He’s brave,” Wayne nods at you, “and you gotta be brave now. For him. Tell him, Y/N. If not for you,” Wayne shrugs, smiles in a way which isn’t happy but isn’t sad, either. Just weary. Knowing. “Then for Eddie.” He coughs on the exhale in a quiet laugh and your eyes widen. Wayne answers your unvoiced question. “Yeah, I hear you when you think you’re alone. ‘Do it for Eddie’ when you gotta take care of you and don’t wanna. This is the same, you ask me.” Wayne hugs you to him tighter, drops another kiss to the top of your head. Quick, casual, but it means so much to the both of you. Your pleased hm makes Wayne smile; both you and Eddie react to being touched like a cat. You both lean in initially and then totally relax into it. "Eddie's got enough'a them walls up, Y/N. Don't you go giving him another." Wayne encourages you, gives you guidance and a light warning, all in two sentences. Only a Munson can pull that off.

Silence lapses again and Wayne finishes his cigarette, stands with a final gentle pat to your shoulder, and goes back inside the trailer. Leaving you with your thoughts and a quiet sense of determination.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #eddie munson imagine #stranger things 4 x reader #eddie baby #eddie munson headcanon #send me eddie things plsssss #stranger things x reader #wayne munson #eddie and wayne munson

349 notes · View notes

tbhimnoteasyonmyself · 2 months

Text

9 Fandom Peeps to Get to Know You Better

First of all, thank you Mickey (@thisautistic) for tagging me <3. Super thrilled that you thought of me for this!!

Now...

3 Ships You Like

1. Kimchay (Kinnporsche)

My babies. I want to protect them both. They're precious and perfect to be put in situations. A force strong enough to have me cooking a longfic after years of not writing a single one. Do I need to same more?? Absolutely obsessed 💜💜💜.

2. Pangwave (The Gifted)

Obligatory mention to my special little ADHD x Autism duo. Don't even arue that they're not canon, if you think that it's bc you missed very significant subtext, I suggest you rewatch this series. Pls and thank you. I will NOT take any criticism.

3. Sandray (Only Friends)

I knew from their 1st sex scene that I was down bad but their trailer sex scene just completely rewired my brain. Is their dynamic fucked up? Yes. Will they hurt each other along the way? Absolutely. But they're on their path to something better and I believe in them. Bc if Ray is deserving of love even after everything that went down then so are all of us. And there's that.

First Ship Ever

Larry Stylinson! (from One Direction)

Straight back from when I was 13, going strong! kskskskssksk I'm not so much there actively in the fandom anymore, but know that I'm there in spirit. sksksksksks Could never abandon the reason for so much change in my life! Good memories!!

Last Song Heard

Nooit Meer Spijt by S10

It's such a good song! I'm not Dutch or Dutch-adjacent but I was introduced to S10 by a friend of mine who's Belgian and I fell in love with her music ever since!

Favorite Childhood Book

A Fada Oriana (The Fairy Oriana) by Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen.

It's about a fairy named Oriana that has to take care of a forest but one day, while looking at the river, meets a fish who talks her into neglecting the forest, which causes a lot of trouble. Then, Oriana, has to learn how to repair the damage she made.

It's a book about responsibility, consequeses, the importance of individual action and learning from one's mistakes.

Currently Reading

Património Cultural: Realidade Viva (Cultural Patrimony: Live Reality) by Guilherme d'Oliveira Martins.

It's a book about the preservation of patrimony in Portugal under the context of belonging in the European Union in the 21st century.

It's not a very interesting book nor scientific, just a summary of Portuguese and European laws for people who don't wanna read the laws (?). I wouldn't read it on my own but it's a mandatory read for one of my classes in my Master's so I gotta ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

Currently Watching

23.5

I didn't know if I was going to but since GMM seems to be finally trying out more for the GLs, I feel like I need to show my support in this direction so I made the moral choice of watching as it airs to make it clear to them the audience for this is here and we want more of it!

So far ep.1 was super cliché and silly but I liked it a lot!! I want all the clichés for the girls too! Tired of seeing queer women suffer and die on screen...

2. 3 Will Be Free

It had been sitting on my watchlist for a while but I never gotten around to it for some reason... Nevertheless, my latest Wheel Decide™ for what to watch next landed on it, so... I'm watching it now!

2 episodes in only but I'm loving it a lot!! The plot's super interesting so far, really like the way they're going about it. Let's see where it goes!!

Currently Consuming

I'm gonna opt to mention the game I'm currently playing (besides Bloons TD 6, but I'm always playing Bloons, so... not news), which is Heaven's Vault by Inkle!

It's an extremely niche game, focused on figuring out an ancient language and, with it, the history of the world it's set in. It envolves robots, space travelling, discussions on xenophobia and religious intolerence and a lot more. I haven't finished yet but I'm loving the experience so far!

I understand it's not for everyone but I'm loving it!! <3 (not a Mickey D's reference, fuck Mickey D's)

Currently Craving

You know, I could go with bibimbap bc I really want some rn but I'm gonna go a bit deeper and say: after the terribleness of my last 2 relationships, all I really want is one that's not enirely chatastrophic. kskssksksksk That'd be pretty neat. kssksksk

So yeah... This was a lot of fun, actually!! I love to share stuff about media I like!!

Tagging @jukain4216 @lost-my-sanity1 @anthrotmnt @shannankle @defomin @aiyui @fiddlepickdouglas @tinysandwichstudent @sicknsadsicknrad @itsamzz28 @whomanist and any other of my lovely moots that hasn't directly been tagged but comes accross this <3.

All the love! 💜💜💜

#Mickey #tag game #tag games #get to know me

15 notes · View notes

bippot · 2 years

Note

I just saw a drawing Eddie with a tongue piercing and I have so many thoughts and none of them are holy

Link to the drawing

Summary: Eddie gets bored one night and decides to make himself more metal by sticking metal in his face. And, honestly, he has no idea how his girlfriend will react.

Ps. Please don't do this!! Get piercings done professionally.

Tags: lip piercing, Smut, Established Relationship, Gags, Handcuffs, Shameless Smut

Song Recommendation: Hurts So Good by John Mellencamp

Stranger Things, Eddie Munson Masterlist - here

Piercings are fucking rad. Everyone knows that. Admittedly, it is best if they're done by professionals in proper, sanitary conditions and not a grimy trailer at 2 am.

Eddie was bored. Bored out of his mind. Y/N was at her own house. Uncle Wayne was at work. All of the other Hellfire members would surely be asleep by now. So, Eddie was alone. And that's never a good thing.

Arriving at his house at around 10 on a lovely Saturday morning, Y/N let herself in as she often did and immediately saw a small, very drippy trail of blood leading to the bathroom. Oh no, what dumb shit has her boyfriend done now?

For the most part, the bathroom was clean. He'd managed to clear that bit up without much trouble. Originally, he'd intended to get rid of the trail but he felt lightheaded and needed to lie down before he had the chance to.

Moving into his room, Y/N gave his sleeping form an ocular pat down, a surveillance of sorts, just checking for where the injury was. She couldn't find it. Not for the life of her. Maybe it was because he was lying on his stomach. The wound could be hidden at this moment.

Waking him up by straddling his butt, she placed her hands on his shoulders, lightly rubbing and giving him a massage. He let out a low groan, slowly coming back to consciousness. When he opened his eyes and looked back, he found Y/N looking down at him.

"What the fuck did you do to yourself?" she asked.

Muttering into the pillow, he groggily replied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lie. Big fat lie.

"Show me your mouth."

"No."

"How have you gained a lisp overnight?"

Busted. He was absolutely busted. She lifted herself up a little so he could flip around to face her, grunting as he did so. He was still tired and sore. Why couldn't she have come later when he was up and ready? Not that he didn't want to see her. Of course he did. He just needed to come up with a good explanation for his actions, which he didn't have.

"Let me see."

"Nothing wrong with me."

"Let me see your mouth, Edward." She put a hand under his chin and used her thumb to carefully pull his bottom lip down, causing him to drop his jaw so she could see.

Swelled and still bright red, his tongue had a steel barbell stuck through it. Honestly, he hadn't done that bad of a job. Getting it professionally done would've been monumentally better though. How he got blood everywhere, she had no idea?

"You pierced your tongue," she stated, tilting his head from side to side, trying to look at it from every angle.

Desperately, he was trying to gauge her reaction. Did she like it? Would she hate it with a burning passion and decide to break up with him for it? That would suck. He didn't want that.

"I wanted a piercing," he declared sheepishly, shrugging dramatically.

"It looks painful."

"Yeah, it hurt like a bitch," he replied, rubbing his tongue against his teeth, still not accustomed to the feeling. "On my first go, I stopped half way."

He said it as if it were nothing. As if he couldn't have potentially fucked up so hard and lost all feeling in his tongue. Still, he could get an infection and that's not happening on her watch.

"Well, that explains the blood," she pointed out, relieved that it wasn't anything serious. "I'm glad that-"

"You should get one too," he blurted out, making her jump a little. "I think you would look cute with one."

Tentatively patting his cheek, she got up and went to the kitchen area. They had to have painkillers somewhere. She made sure to keep the rummaging noises to a minimum as Wayne was in bed after his night shift and she didn't want to wake him.

When she finally did find the painkillers in the back of the cabinet, she came back to the room with a cool glass of water and held it out Eddie, who gratefully accepted it as he sat up. "Thanks, babe."

"You do know that you're not supposed to smoke or drink for the next two weeks now."

"What!? Since when?" Truthfully, he knew absolutely nothing about piercing maintenance and just did it on a whim. It was like all those times he'd given himself tattoos. He never planned it. It was an impulse feeling.

"Fiona. You know Fiona, right?" He nodded. She was one of Y/N's friends that he met maybe twice. "She got hers done last month so that's the only thing we've heard about since then."

Still, that didn't answer his query. "What's that got to do with booze?"

"It irritates. Bad for the healing process."

Running his hands up her waist, he joked, "I can deal with irritation. I deal with you on a daily basis."

Placing a hand on top of chest, she playfully pushed him backwards onto the bed and leant down, brushing the tips of their noses together before coquetting, "But you love it when I irritate you."

True. It was what kept his constant state of arousal at a manageable level. He had to constantly be stimulated, otherwise he'd go mad.

Staring into her eyes, he said, "You're lucky I love you."

"I love you too, handsome."

As she straddled his lap, she lazily started placing sloppy kisses down his neck. It was a gesture of endearment more than anything, but it turned him on nonetheless. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as she began to softly nibble and lick his skin, causing his dick to get harder. God, he loved her.

When she finally stopped, he opened his eyes and looked into her face. She smiled, finally giving him a kiss on the lips that he returned wholeheartedly. He intertwined his fingers into her hair and tried to deepen it, pushing his tongue into her mouth.

"Ow!" He whined, rearing back quickly. Guess he couldn't deal with the irritation. "That hurts."

After quickly surveying if he'd actually done any damage, she let out a laugh and extra gently kissed his cheek.

"Don't laugh at me."

"Don't do idiotic things then." He grinned, loving the way she had made him feel. No matter how much he messed up, she still loved him. It was unconditional and he appreciated it more than he could ever tell her.

She rolled off his lap and stood up, leaving him a little disappointed as he watched her hips swaying seductively in front of him. "Where are you going?"

"Someone has to clear up all that blood."

"All that blood? It wasn't that much. You're over-exaggerating," he said, standing up and pulling his t-shirt off before following her into the kitchen. She smugly grinned as she looked at him over her shoulder and gestured to the trail. "Okay, so it's a little more than I thought."

"You, think? That's the first I've heard of that," she teased before collecting any cleaning equipment that he owned (which wasn't a lot). "Now help me clean up, you big baby."

With both of them working, it was gone in no time. Eddie couldn't help but look at her ass as she worked on her knees. The boner he was sporting before had gone down, but watching her had it threatening to pop back up at any second.

"Stop wiggling your ass so much," he groaned, earning a smirk from her as she glanced over her shoulder and winked. She had no idea that she'd been doing that, but she could use it. Use it to further annoy him.

Reaching back and slapping her own ass with her non-dominant hand, she listened as he let out a frustrated sigh. As her hand moved away, she flipped him off playfully. "You are having too much fun watching, so why would I stop?"

"Because I don't want to have to take responsibility if my uncle catches me fucking you on the kitchen floor."

"I'd love to see you try."

He had to turn his head and groan out loud. "You're determined to drive me insane aren't you?"

"It's my job." She continued her work, not looking at him as he stared daggers into her ass.

The minute, no, the second all traces of his botched attempt was clear, Eddie slung Y/N over his shoulder and made his way to his bedroom, putting a hand over her mouth to quiet the giggles that were bound to fall from her mouth. He flopped her onto the bed and hovered over her, waiting for her to calm down before he started to passionately kiss her, completely ignoring the pain in his tongue as he did so.

Slipping his hand up her shirt, he let his fingers brush over her bra, before he moved it out of the way and started to gently pinch her hardened nipple. She couldn't help but squirm under his touch, loving how his smile seemed to get the better of him every time she let out a quiet noise of pleasure from him.

Sliding his underwear off, he moved to lie beside her and groaned, "God, you're a brat, you know that?"

Another giggle escaped her as she crawled on top of him, straddling his thighs, her nails dancing down his chest as the other found its way to his cock. "I prefer the term 'sexy minx' myself."

"This is true," he agreed, playing with her hair as he tried unsuccessfully to ignore the pleasure she was giving him. His nonchalant manner faded quickly since she unhurriedly let her fingertip trace the entirety of his shaft, from his balls to his tip. He groaned, letting his head fall back as she began to move her hand up and down his shaft.

"You like that?" she whispered.

"Makes me crazy," he grumbled. She smiled mischievously before leaning down and giving him a light peck on the tip. He nearly jumped out of his skin, but she just laughed before taking him into her mouth. She took him in slowly, her eyes focusing on his as she gave him a look that screamed 'take me all you want'.

His hands found their way into her hair as he directed her movements on his cock. It wasn't long before he was begging her to take his arousal all the way down her throat. His hips moved restlessly, desperate for her mouth.

"Shh... we don't want to wake your uncle up, Eds," she reminded him, replacing her mouth with her hand as she spoke. The feeling of her fingertips moving up and down his length was driving him out of his mind.

"We're swapping. I'm about to cum all over your face," he informed her, halting her hand so they could switch places.

"You are not going down on me."

"Why?"

"Want to run the risk of an infection, you dumbass?" He really hadn't thought his piercing through. Still, it looked fucking sick. It would be fine. Surely it would be fine.

Yet, he pretended. "No, you're right. Yeah, that would be stupid," he said, giving her a smile that should've given away that he was planning on disobeying her.

"Good." Moving up, she let him flip them over and begin undressing her. Eddie didn't waste a second. He slid his fingers into her, delving into her wet core, finding her already damp and ready for him. He wasted no time in plunging in. His hand found her G-spot almost immediately. He pushed a few times and was rewarded with a quiet lustful moan.

"Fuck, so wet, princess," he whispered as her lips found their way to his neck, moaning into his skin as a way to muffle the sounds she was making. He began to speed up, keeping his movements steady and sure, focusing only on pleasing her. She was the only thing on his mind.

So, when she prepped, he retrieved the cuffs from his wall and slapped them around her wrists, restraining them above her head to his bed frame, leaving her unable to move.

"Beautiful," he complimented as his head moved down, pressing kisses to her bare body, going lower and lower until his nose rested on her arousal.

Before he could even think about starting to eat her out, she wiggled her leg up and gently pushed him in the forehead with the heel of her foot, chastising, "Stop being pussy mad and think for once."

"Pussy mad? You're saying I'm pussy mad?"

"Yeah."

Removing her foot from his head, he childishly retorted, "Fuck you, you're pussy mad."

Well, "I have a pussy and I'm getting mad, so yeah, guess I am."

Shit. Shit. He'd made her angry. That was not what he wanted to do. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Y/N angry was not a thing he liked seeing. He'd not seen it very often. Stopping his attempt, he panicked and asked, "Wha- why are you mad?"

Men. Men are idiots.

"Because my boyfriend isn't listening to me." She let out an exasperated sigh and gave her best puppy eyes as she explained, "Just hold off for 2 weeks, and after that? You can eat me out all you want."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die," she swore and totally would've done the action if she had free use of her hands. But the good news was that he gave in. He'd promised to wait for a few weeks.

And wait he did. That didn't mean he wasn't impatient. Every moment they were alone, he was either whining about his new life as a pierced man or whining that she wouldn't let him go down on her. He couldn't take it anymore. As soon as the two weeks were up, exactly at 12 am, Eddie arrived at her house. She'd been awake and heard the familiar rumbling of his van.

Letting him quietly through the backdoor to not wake her parents up, they crept up to her room and as soon as her door closed, he practically pounced on her, kissing her deeply. "Two weeks are up, sweet cheeks."

Seconds before she could reply, he went back in for a passionate kiss, backing her up towards her bed and pushing her down against the mattress.

"Take off my clothes," she told him, a grin on her face. So he did just that, slowly undressing her before taking off his own clothes and joining her on the bed. With one final kiss on the lips, he trailed his hands up her legs, finding her sensitive clit with his mouth and giving an affectionate lick. She let out a small squeal, her head falling back as her back arched.

The addition of the cool metal bar in his mouth was different. A good different, but still a strange difference. It made his movements more forceful and the coldness of it made her shiver. He kept his movements slow, soothing and gentle, moving his mouth over her clit so she could feel every part of his tongue, both hands clamping down on her waist, his thumbs caressing her skin as she rode his face.

And, she was getting louder and louder.

Usually, he was the one with the noise issue. But today? Whatever he was doing, whatever was new, she seemed to really like. Maybe she was too loud? He could rectify that. Quickly grabbing her panties that were still around her ankle, he ordered, "Open your mouth," and stuffed them between her lips when she did as he said.

It must've been a record. A record of how fast he made her unravel on his tongue. The friction and the taste of her arousal made his dick throb with excitement. He continued to focus on her pleasure until she begged him to stop, which was clear by the way she whined into the gag.

Pulling the underwear out of her mouth, she looked at him with adoration and panted, "Holy fuck, that was… wow."

"I take it you like that, huh?" he asked, basking in her approval.

"Oh, you have no idea." She awkwardly moved her tongue around in her mouth, the fabric of her underwear having depleted all of the moisture from it. "Not going to lie, my mouth feels like the fucking Sahara though."

"Want me to spit in it?" He joked, fully thinking she'd understand that he was just messing about. So, when she opened her mouth once more and stuck her tongue out, he couldn't believe his luck. He leaned in and spat in her mouth before bringing her into another kiss.

"You know the drill," she commented, getting out from under him and moving to the rug she had by her bed. Her bed was way too creaky. Without waiting for him because she knew he'd follow, she lay down on the comfy fabric and watched as he removed his underwear, complimenting, "Nice ass."

"You say that every time." He got to his knees and loomed over her, staring down at her naked body and taking in her perfect features.

"It must be true then." She pulled neck down to kiss her way from his jaw, his ear, up to his cheek before running her hands along his collar bone. When she got to his lips, her fingertips lightly stroking his bottom lip, she said, "Come on, we don't have all night."

"So impatient, baby." He lifted her hips and with one long stroke, he pushed into her needy body, entering her in one smooth motion. She closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling of him so deep inside of her, the hard length of him rubbing against her most sensitive spot.

He set a steady, slow tempo, never rushing, always being deliberate. He let her get as comfortable as she needed, letting her legs come up around his waist and his hands moved to hers, pushing them into the rug beneath them as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

Putting her hand over his mouth before a moan could escape his lips, she warned, "Do I need to get the underwear?"

"No," he groaned in reply, his voice muffled by her fingers. He gave a few more long, deep strokes and soon, he was pounding into her, his movements growing faster and faster. She pulled his hair, digging her nails into his scalp as she took his cock, taking him deeper and deeper inside of herself.

Not breaking the rhythm, he reached down and grabbed her ass with both of his hands, moving her up and down on his erection in perfect unison, until she breathlessly whispered, "Gonna come, Eds."

Just before she came, he squeezed her ass cheek, holding her in place as he fucked her with hard, fast strokes. She came for him, her body tensing in orgasm, her inner muscles squeezing tightly around his cock. With his heart thundering in his chest, and sweat dripping down his body, he came seconds later.

They stayed that way, entwined, for several minutes. She was still catching her breath when he asked, "So, the piercing? You like it?"

"Mmm… I do." She smiled and snuggled closer to him, their naked bodies pressed together, her leg thrown over his thigh, her hand resting on his chest. "I really like it. A lot."

"Good," he said with a grin. "I really like you liking it."

The pair got redressed and climbed into bed just in case they fell asleep and her parents walked in. They'd be able to deny that they did anything if they were clothed. Or at least they'd have a chance to lie.

Resting her forehead on his chest, Y/N listened to Eddie's heart beating and his deep breaths. He'd already fallen asleep, but she was still awake, content in his arms. She smiled and closed her eyes, and soon, she too was fast asleep.

#eddie munson & reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

391 notes · View notes