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lovebugism · 1 year

Note

i am so sorry but reader talking about robin right before making out with eddie is like absolutely the best thing i’ve ever read i’m obsessed i genuinely can’t wait for anything else in that universe that you do

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | god help the girl

summary: in which you come to terms with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with eddie munson. pairing: virgin!eddie munson x reader word count: 13k warning: phone sex, more discussions of shitty boyfriends, j*son c*rver name drop, talks of unhealthy eating practices, smut 18+ mdni! a/n: this ask has been sitting in my inbox for ages now, but i wanted to save it until robin made an appearance in the series! thank you, anon, for being so sweet! and for the few of you who've been waiting on me to finally post <3 hope you enjoy! xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

They only met once, but it changed their lives forever.

That’s what the movie cover reads at least, but the words have long blurred into a jumbled mess at your tunnel vision. John Bender stares you in the face, but all you see is Eddie — boyish and brazen and scowling because he thinks it makes him look intimidating, but nowhere near as cruel as he seems.

He’s certainly got the hair for it, much longer and curls far wilder than Judd Nelson’s measly set of brushed-back locks. He’s got the terribly animated personality down pat, too; the one that either makes you laugh uncontrollably or squirm in discomfort when it’s pointed your way. And the style’s a pretty fine match also, though you’d argue that no one sports a leather jacket quite like Eddie Munson does.

Wallowing in your boredom at the empty Family Video store on Main Street — where your best friends slave over mundane work with aching backs and a lingering sense of gratefulness that no customer has been in in well over an hour — you find yourself analyzing each character pictured on the front cover of The Breakfast Club.

Robin would surely be Allison, you conclude rather quickly, because their deadpanned glowers are eerily identical. They’ve also got this sort of atypical aura to them, too, like a dark storm cloud or the promise of a long night. But strangely it sparkles — strikes of lightning or a sky full of stars. It draws everyone’s attention to them; even when they’re desperately trying to hide in the very back of a room.

And Steve would be Andrew, not particularly because of his affections for this Allison-Reynolds-Robin-Buckley hybrid you’ve concocted, but because "popular guy with daddy issues" is a trope that fits him far too well. He’s way more likely to get detention for trying to look cool in front of his assholes friends than for anything actually malicious of heart. But that would’ve been years ago now. He’s not that kind of guy anymore.

He’s soft and sweet — a Brian Johnson sort of soft and sweet, if you will. If Brian wasn’t the brains, but the sweetest dumbass anyone’s ever met.

You realize then, that Jim Hopper would make a mean Richard Vernon. He’s impatient to a fault, almost too stern at times, but never enough to make you genuinely fearful of him. You’ve found that it’s virtually impossible for you to take him seriously when he’s so cartoonishly angry. It’s a match made in heaven, you find, though Jim might take offense to the comparison.

And if Eddie is Bender, then that’d make you the Claire Standish of the bunch.

She’s dreadfully stylish, a bit stuck-up at times, and perhaps a little bit more spoiled than the average person; but it’s not like she ever claimed to be perfect. And you wouldn’t either.

You’ll take more pride in your wardrobe filled with pretty pleated skirts and flouncy dresses than your somewhat glacial disposition. And you might not be drowning in daddy’s money, but you’re certainly spoiled in other ways — if only in the employee discount at Enzo’s that got you wine for cheap and your connections at Family Video that meant free movie nights whenever you wanted.

The bad boy and the princess was a tale as old as time itself. It’s a fairytale you wouldn’t mind living in if it ended how it did in the movies — with a kiss on the cheek and an exchanged diamond earring in the calloused palm of another. A soft pink smile and a celebratory fist in the air.

But you’ve met your fair share of John Bender’s and none of them had been particularly kind to you, let alone had fallen in love with you.

Maybe that’s because you were no Claire Standish. Never pretty enough, never mousy enough, never pure enough. You try and dissect why you’ve never been successfully loved, and all the signs point to you, you, you.

You hope Eddie’s different. You need Eddie to be different.

“Something’s wrong with me,” you blurt out of nowhere.

Well, it’s not totally out of the blue for you. You’d been stewing over that thought since you got there — since you left the woods with damp underwear and the scent of you on Eddie’s fingers.

But to Steve and Robin, who’d stayed relatively silent and locked eyes only once after they noticed how abnormally hushed you’d gone, it catches them quite off guard.

Steve lifts his heavy head from where he mans the counter. His tired eyes leave the computerized catalog for the first time in forty minutes, and he has to rub at them with the bottom of his palms to see you properly. Meanwhile, Robin crouches at your side, taking returned tapes from the bin sitting next to her and placing them back upon the shelf you lean against.

She blinks up at you, deep ocean eyes swimming with apprehension, like she can sense the spiral you’ve just about twisted yourself into.

“What do you mean?” she wonders, ever the supportive best friend, as she plucks Heather’s, Pretty in Pink, and Weird Science from the bin and sets them onto their assigned rows in the Teen Drama section.

“Eddie won’t fuck me.”

Neither of them is particularly stunned by the unabashed nature of your admission.

Not only have they both fucked you at one point or another, but they’re your best friends — no one’s ever going to know you quite the way they do. It leaves little left unsaid between the three of you, with secrets you’ve all sworn to take to your graves. Steve once stuck a finger in his ass to see if he liked it (he did) and Robin sometimes gets off on her childhood teddy bear (rather ironically named Mr. Snuggles).

So this? This was nothing. Especially in comparison to all the other shit you’ve confessed to them because god knows the whore of Hawkins has a plethora of stories to tell.

Steve is more shocked by the name that leaves your mouth than anything else. “Eddie Munson?” he repeats with furrowed brows, like he had to have heard you wrong.

You bring your chin to your right shoulder to look at him, then nod.

“Eddie… The Freak… Munson?”

You nod again, slower for him this time.

“You wanna fuck… Eddie Munson?” Steve reiterates once more, as though the idea was too appalling to be true. “Eddie Munson — The Freak?”

“Yes, Steve,” you huff in irritation.

His face contorts into a puppy-like confusion. A frown settles between his bushy brows and he cocks his head to the side, nose scrunching and his lip quirking slightly. He couldn’t look more disgusted if he tried.

“…Why?”

You groan and tilt your head back dramatically. “That’s not what’s important here, Steve. The better question is why won’t he fuck me?”

The boy’s lack of any actual assistance doesn’t surprise Robin in the slightest — his dumbfounded gaze and innate confusion are actually pretty on brand. It just puts all the burden on her, to help you wriggle out of the mess you’d tangled yourself into.

It’s not like she isn’t used to it, though, nor does she mind doing it for you. She walks you through your emotions like a professional, squashing out all the burning orange embers for you before they have the chance to burst into flames.

“Well, what do you mean he won’t fuck you? Like… did he actually say that or does he just wanna, you know, take things slow?”

The latter would’ve been way too easy. Eddie’s always been nice enough to you. It’d make sense for him to want to stay unhurried and gentle with you, but those words weren’t exactly in your vocabulary.

The first time you were alone with him, you were getting yourself off on his thigh after making him come in his jeans. The next time you saw him, after four days of him clinging to your consciousness, there wasn’t as much small talk so much as there were two of his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep inside of you.

You don’t know Eddie’s birthday, but you know how he likes to be touched — squeezed and not rubbed. You don’t know his middle name or how he likes his eggs in the morning or what his relationship with his mother is like, but he’s already made you come. Twice.

You are completely, utterly, and totally incapable of taking things slow. So it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. So it had to be the other thing. The very scary, terrifying, boogeyman of a thing.

“I mean, I offered to give him a blowjob and he completely turned me down,” you lament in reply.

Robin and Steve wince. Like, physically wince. Their faces scrunch and their heads flinch from something invisible. Audible ooh’s fall from their mouths without them even realizing it, because you don’t get rejected. Ever. Especially not after offering to pleasure someone without much of anything in return.

They don’t mean to react the way they do. The visible shock that coats their features is involuntary more than it is anything, and it only adds to your fears.

“Exactly!” you exclaim.

“I hate to say it, but I think hell might be freezing over as we speak,” Steve half-jokes.

“Well, he was working, right?” Robin asks with raised brows. “Maybe he was just busy.”

“Sorry, Rob, but no guy’s too busy for a blowjob.”

“Real charming, Stevie.”

“Maybe he just has a small dick,” the boy concludes with a shrug.

“I felt his dick,” you shake your head almost immediately. The feeling of Eddie’s hard cock through his denim jeans, all rough and warm against your palm, hasn’t yet left you. “It’s not small.”

“Well, maybe he can’t get it up—”

“Yeah, that’s not a problem either.”

Eddie was rock hard when you left him, throbbing and aching and obviously needing some kind of relief. That’s partly why you’d been so ardent to return the favor, though the other half of it was purely selfish — you haven’t seen a more beautiful sight than Eddie Munson getting off. To deprive yourself of that masterpiece made you feel like you were starving.

You have a hard time imagining the raging hard-on just… dissipating after you’d left him. That means he probably jerked off in the back of his van and you missed it. And if he came, right after he promised everything was okay, that means he just didn’t want you to do it… right?

Steve seems to be caught in the same inner turmoil you’re currently stuck in; and for good reason. In all the years he’s known you, he can count on one hand how many times he’s had to turn you down. And every time, it was because he’d gotten back together with Nancy. It was never because of you. Not once. And sometimes he felt like it hurt him as much as it did you.

As far as Steve’s concerned, you’re so out of Eddie Munson’s league that you’re not even in his fucking orbit — so the freak show, turning you down, doesn’t make whole lot of sense to him.

“Huh…”

“It’s me. It’s definitely me,” you conclude with the shake of your head. A bitter, almost hysterical laugh spills from your lips. “He thinks I’m fucking ugly or disgusting or something. It’s totally fucking me—”

Robin completely abandons her basket of tapes then. She rises to stand in front of you, looking timid as she does so. Her raised brows form wrinkles on her freckled forehead and her blue eyes widen to reveal more of the whites of them. She looks like she’s approaching a wild animal. A bomb that’s about to explode.

“Okay… You’re starting to spiral, alright? So let’s just try and take a few deep breaths—”

You don’t listen to her.

Actually, you do quite the opposite, as you begin to blurt every fleeting thought that crosses your mind.

“I’ve made out with nearly everyone in this stupid town— I’m pretty sure I’ve fucked almost half— and you’d think Eddie would wanna take advantage of that, the way everyone makes him out to be some sort of freak, right? But he hasn’t and at this rate, he won’t, and I just don’t understand why,” you ramble without taking in a single breath. “Usually being a slut is a huge turn-on for guys, you know? But what if Eddie thinks it’s gross? I mean, it is gross— I’m gross—”

You only stop for air when Robin takes your shoulders in both hands. She looks less apprehensive and more stern, as she forces you to look at her.

“Look. I love you, but you need to get a hold of yourself, alright? I know you’re not used to being told no, and I know how much it sucks, but shit happens. I’m willing to bet all the money I’ve ever seen that whatever is going on with Eddie has nothing to do with you, okay? And if it’s making you this upset, maybe you should just talk to him.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like I’m too eager, that’s gross—”

“Then find someone else to fuck,” she offers with her signature Robin Buckley half-smile. “I’m sure it would take you less than five minutes to find a willing participant.”

“Yeah, right here,” Steve jokes from the counter with the pathetic wave of his hand and a dumb grin on his lips.

You don’t hear him over the voices in your head — half calling you crazy for letting a boy drive you this mad over nothing, and the other half bitterly affirming each of your deep-rooted insecurities.

Your face screws up, like the thought of being with anyone other than Eddie upsets you — it does upset you.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Then what do you want?” Robin yells in your face, shaking you by your shoulders.

“I want Eddie!” you shout back without thinking. The words seem to spill out of nowhere. It takes you of all people by surprise. No one in this rat trap town would ever expect the whore of Hawkins to want to settle down, least of all the harlot herself. It’s strange; it’s riveting; it’s really fucking scary. “…Fuck.”

The brunette smirks, proud of herself. “Well. There’s your answer.”

“I hate when you’re right,” you mumble to yourself, pouting as she crouches back down again.

“I know.”

It was a terrifying thought, to know that you were head over heels for someone else. You try to come to terms with what that means.

Sometimes you think you fall in love with a new person every day. A cute guy holds the door open for you, a pretty girl compliments your outfit — they never think about you again, but they’re on your mind for days. It was so easy to develop such meaningless infatuations, especially when you were bored.

But Eddie was different.

He was a nice guy. A nice guy that was sweet to you just for the sake of being sweet to you; not because he secretly wanted something in return. That made you fall for him at first, but then you just… kept on falling. Eddie Munson was an infinite void you couldn’t crawl your way out of even if you wanted to, even if you tried.

And that’s what frightened you the most.

Because if you really thought about it, you’ve only truly been in love a handful of times. And, sure, it didn’t work out — that was normal — but some of them fucking ruined you.

You’re still trying to figure out who you are without all of the people that have broken your heart. You’re still fighting like hell every day to recognize the person you see in the mirror, while Billy Hargrove fucks off with a new girl every other week like he didn’t totally destroy you.

But, even still, Eddie was completely different. No one’s ever made you feel the way he makes you feel. And it’s more than the stupid heavy petting — it’s more than anything. It’s never been like this before; not even with the blonde mulleted asshole who ripped your heart to shreds.

And you’re scared that if you get hurt again, you’ll never be able to come back from it.

“Steve, do you have another copy of Fast Times in the back?” you suddenly ask the boy, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

It’s your last ditch effort to rid yourself of the ponderous, gray doom and gloom surrounding you like some storm cloud. Your comfort movie solves all of your problems — or, at the very least, Phoebe Cates does — but it seems everyone else in town has developed a similar fondness for minute fifty-three of the film and got all the tapes off the shelf before you could get your hands on one.

“You know I keep on in stock for you,” he answers quietly.

He reaches below the counter to pull out a spare copy for you, and your heart swells with the rays of a thousand rising suns and the songs of every morning bird.

Steve told you some time ago that he could change. And back then, all it did was piss you off, because he didn’t want to change for the town slut — for the girl he put through the goddamn ringer. He wanted to change for Nancy. The princess bruised his brittle ego a little, and then he realized what an asshole he’d been to everyone, to you.

But as angry as it made you, you never believed him. “Once the King of Hawkins High, always the King of Hawkins High,” you remarked bitterly.

You wouldn’t say it to his face, for the sake of keeping his ego from inflating all over again, but you could tell he was really changing.

He was kinder, he was softer. He stopped caring about what everyone thought about him, about what not caring would do to his reputation, and started giving a fuck about the people worth giving a fuck about.

Apparently, you were one of them.

“…Really?”

He nods with a subtle shrug. Like it was no big deal. Like it wasn’t one of the sweetest things he’d ever done for you — keeping your favorite movie on hand so you’ll always have a spare, knowing that it’s the only thing that gets you out of a deep, dark funk sometimes.

“Stevie… You’re gonna make me blush,” you lilt with a grin as you saunter over to him, hands innocently laced behind your back. “You need to be careful, Harrington. I’m gonna start to think you actually like me.”

He scoffs. “I do like you.”

“Yeah, when it’s convenient.”

It’s obvious your joke hits him where it hurts. It serves as a bitter reminder of the asshole he used to be, the douchebag he’s trying like hell to grow out of. He looks up at you with a sheepish, honey-tinted gaze before ducking away again.

A year or more ago it would’ve made you feel good, to know that you hurt him just a fraction of the way he hurt you. But you know that that isn’t the same man standing in front of you now, that he’d rather die than make hurt your feelings, and it makes you feel like shit for saying it in the first place.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a scrunched nose. The palms of your hands dig into the edges of the counter as you lean against it. Your shrug. “It just kinda came out…”

The barcode scanner in his hand beeps as he passes the thing over the back of the tape — never charging you, just getting the movie out of the database.

“So, uh…” he starts before clearing his throat. He focuses his gaze on the computer and types on the bulky keyboard with the tip of his pointer finger. “You really like this Eddie guy, huh?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“And he’s not, like… a total freak or anything?”

You can’t tell if he’s trying to look out for you or if he just wants intel on what it’s like trying (and failing) to bang the local weirdo. Either way, it makes a smile tug slow at your lips as you joke: “Not in the way everyone thinks.”

“Jesus,” he winces at the obscenity of your words.

“Sorry,” you apologize again, though the laugh that bubbles from your lips after cancels out any hint of actual sincerity. “You don’t need to give me the talk or anything, Steve. I can take care of myself.”

“…Can you?” he half-jokes.

It makes you falter. “Well… With you and Robin and Hopper constantly on my ass, then yeah.”

“Just don’t want you to get hurt,” Steve finally admits, soft and suddenly shy as he hands the VHS over to you.

“That’s rich coming from you—”

He jerks back the tape before you can take it from him, leaving your hand reaching for thin air. His cinnamon eyes glimmer with a foreign seriousness, not completely unkind, but lacking their usual blithe. “That’s why I’m saying it. I just… I want you to be okay.”

Steve is one of the rare ones, you conclude right then in there — in the liminal emptiness of Family Video, beneath fluorescent lights that cast sharp shadows upon his already chiseled features. He was a mythical creature of a man, one who breaks your heart and does everything in his power to mend it again.

He hasn’t forgotten about what he did to you, not like Billy did, and he won’t. Not ever. He saw what he did to you and he never moved on from it, just matured enough to make sure it never happened again. And he won’t let another unworthy douchebag hurt you like he did. Not if he can help it, at least.

And he did try to warn you about Hargrove, to be fair. You were just the dumbass that didn’t listen.

“Well, me and my Phoebe Cates wet dream are golden, Pony Boy,” you promise. He hands you the tape again and lets you snatch it from his grip this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Stevie.”

Steve Harrington was right.

The fleeting thought flashes across your mind for half a second, and you quickly realize that those words have never been uttered in the same sentence before now. But he wasn’t wrong in what he’d said about you, just before you left — you were completely, totally, absolutely, and implicitly unable to take care of yourself.

You nearly passed out in the bathroom after taking the hottest shower of your life, feeling too woozy to slap on anything other than moisturizer because you failed to remember to actually eat something that day. It wasn’t totally your fault, though; if anything, it was because of Eddie and all the butterflies he’d given you that made food the very last thing on your mind.

You half-heartedly dry yourself off, keeping your hair in a towel, while you slip on a cotton set of underwear you’ve had for way longer than what's likely acceptable. Damp and half-naked, you prance into the kitchen to fix Bowie her bowl of dinner before you feed yourself.

You fork a can of wet food onto a flower-shaped plate and let her eat on the counter — because you’re an adult now, and you can do that sort of thing.

The calico purrs while she feasts, but your stomach thunders with negligence. You peek into your mostly bare refrigerator and make a mental note to go grocery shopping when you get paid next week.

With a lack of food and an even lesser will to cook something, you settle for the half-eaten chocolate bar you keep stashed in the very back of the fridge; kept only for the most special of occasions — when you’re reveling in your loneliness and trying to convince yourself that you can make it on your own.

It was practically the size of your forearm when you first bought the thing at some too expensive candy store in the city. Now it’s no bigger than your hand.

You eat the thing in bed, even though you know you’ll get crumbs everywhere and that it’ll make sleep agonizing for you — if you get any, that is. You’re bound to feel like a total zombie by the time the sun rises and the late-night sweet will likely make its appearance on your skin by then, in a red and raging blemish of a consequence.

You’ll feel empty and starved and surly, a snapping grouch instead of an actual person, until you get some actual food in your system.

And you’re more than aware of all of these things, but you don’t do a single damn thing about them.

You’re nothing but a sulking lump upon an unmade bed, lying in a pitch-black darkness that’s evaded only by the static-y television across your room, trying your best to pretend like you aren’t waiting for Eddie’s phone call. It’s hard to remember to forget him, though, when the movie you’re watching is practically a feature film of him and all the ways he makes you feel.

Spicoli and his terribly inebriated friends slur as they chorus “No shoes, no shirt, no diiiice” and you swear you can feel Eddie’s shoulder bump softly against yours as he laughs, hear every sound of his melodic chuckle in your ear that made you giggle right along with him. The low bass of Moving in Stereo plays in the otherwise empty silence of your bedroom, and every beat feels like the rhythm of your thrusts against his thigh.

Eddie Munson is all-consuming.

Even the thought of him feels physical.

Phoebe Cates all but undresses herself in front of you, but you’re stuck thinking about some guy who lives in a trailer park across town, deals drugs for a living, and can’t graduate high school. You’re a total fucking goner.

Your eyes flutter shut, and instead of the backs of your eyelids, you see Eddie’s trailer. Your lips start to tingle as they kiss his for the first time — hungry, yearning, needing. His thigh is pressed snugly into your cunt, denim jeans rough against your soft cotton panties, and you have to bite back a moan when he tenses every time you squeeze his hard, covered cock.

You can feel it, all of him, like he were here with you now.

You wish that he were.

His fingers would feel far better, leave far more sparks of electricity in your belly, than the ones as you sneak through the hem of your underwear.

You try and take things slow with yourself, to be as gentle as he had been with you earlier in the woods, but it feels strange to treat yourself with so much tenderness. To touch your pussy like it’s the first time it’s ever been touched. Like it’s a beautiful thing you need to be sweet to.

Maybe you find it so foreign to be careful with yourself because no one has ever been careful with you.

No one, except for Eddie.

Your touch doesn’t rival his. It doesn’t even come close.

No matter how tightly you squeeze your eyes shut or how hard you try to pretend that they’re his fingers inside of you, you can’t make yourself feel as good as he did.

Your fingers aren’t as rough as his guitar-string-scarred ones and they don’t caress your clit with the same methodical care. They don’t fill you quite the same either, nowhere near as satisfying as his much thicker ones.

And you’re no stranger to masturbation, not by any means. Sometimes it’s the only way you can guarantee an orgasm for yourself when you’ve got a partner who cares so little about your own pleasure. But Eddie was different. Eddie cared — so much so, that he’s gotten more orgasms out of you than you’ve gotten from him, which is something you’ve never said about anyone else you’ve been with.

It’s rare and unfamiliar, a bouquet of all things refreshing and terrifying and strange, tied together with a pretty little ribbon.

You know that you can make yourself come. It’ll just take way too long to actually be worthwhile and won’t be nearly as mind-blowing as you need it to be. You won’t be left with trembling thighs and nearly numb legs — just a pitiful excuse for an orgasm that you could get from any one of your exes with half as much work.

What you need is Eddie.

And you hate that. You hate how much you need him and you’re terrified of what that means.

As far as precedent goes, right when you start needing someone is usually when they start to leave. It’s like fucking clockwork most of the time — like everyone knows that you’re a ticking time bomb and eventually it gets too risky to stand too close to you.

You’ll just have to keep Eddie at arm's distance. So he won’t see the grenade that you are.

You pull your fingers out of your wanting cunt, still slick and throbbing with a need that you can’t give it, when the phone rings.

The high-pitched shrill in the quiet makes you tense like it’s the first time you’ve ever heard the damn thing. Your breath catches in your throat, first out of fright and then at the inclination of who waits for you on the other line.

Suddenly, you’re scrambling to collect yourself. As though there was any possibility that Eddie might be able to see you through the phone line.

You wipe your wet fingers haphazardly on the cotton of your underwear and sit up straighter from your ungracefully lazed position. Then you count to five — one mississippi… two mississippi… three — so Eddie won’t think you’re some kind of crazy person who doesn’t have anything better to do than wait for his call.

So he won’t know that’s exactly what you are.

You lift the ruby red rotary from its hook at your bedside table and stretch the corkscrew cord to press it to your ear. “…Hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I’d like to order a pizza. Half pepperoni, half hawaiian.”

You roll your eyes at his dumb joke, even though the familiarity of his voice makes you smile. It warms you like a home-cooked meal, like you were high-pitched and starving before and now you’re on the soothing comedown of finally being satiated.

“Yeah, sorry, we’re closed.”

“Then why’d you pick up the phone, huh?” he teases back. You swear you can hear the grin in his voice. You didn’t know a smile could be so audible. It makes you wonder if he can hear yours — if you’re doing a real shit job at pretending. You anxiously twirl the cord with the pointer finger of your free hand.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you to call me all night, dummy.”

Your answer is more honest than either of you were expecting.

Eddie’s sigh crackles through the shoddy reception. “Yeah. Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. I’ve been working all night. I only got home, like, five minutes ago.”

You can hear the heavy exhaustion in his voice. “Rough day?”

“Kinda,” he answers with a shrug. You can hear the grating squeak of his mattress as he plops down onto his bed. “I dealt to one of Jason’s goons today… They always give me a hard time.”

“I’m sorry,” is all you can think to answer.

Eddie’s been the brunt of every joke since seventh grade — people made fun of too big clothes, his too wild hair, his too loud music. But he took it all in stride, laughing with everyone else before volleying a harsher joke back in response. You almost started to think that he liked it. That, somewhere deep down, he was fond of all the attention he got from people who supposedly couldn’t stand him.

But it hurts to know that it hurts him.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you did anything,” he assures with a soft laugh. He makes the bold decision to be honest then, too. “You, uh… You made my day a whole lot better, actually.”

You don’t know if he’s talking about the brief fling in the woods or the phone call you’re sharing now or if you particularly care either way. Your heart flutters like it’s been kissed by the wings of a butterfly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean… I don’t know— I couldn’t stop thinking about you, you know. And, knowing that I was gonna get to talk to you again kinda got me through the day, I guess… And, yes, I am fully aware of how lame that sounds, but—”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his excuse, of why what he just told you totally isn’t lame, because you’re covering the receiver with your palm and turning to squeal into your pillow. A far more pathetic sight, in your humble opinion.

There hasn’t been a more fulfilling feeling than this one, to know that he’s been feeling the same way you’ve been feeling about him this whole time. It’s better than all the orgasms he could give you combined, to be loved so wholly.

“…You okay?” you hear his muffled voice ask after you’ve gone suddenly AWOL.

You press the phone back to your ear and nod like he can see you. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. The phone… fell— you said you just got home?”

“Uh, yeah. I met with Hellfire for a bit at school. We’re almost at the end of the Cult of Vecna, so they’re kinda on my ass about it. The little shits are obsessed.”

“Well, they should be. It’s a really good campaign, Eds.”

“Thanks to you,” he mutters. You can almost picture the glimmer in his button eyes and the shaky half-smirk he always looks at you with when he gets all shy.

“That was all you, Eddie Spaghetti,” you retort. “I still have no idea how you did it.”

“Did what?” he wonders, chuckling a bit at the nickname.

“Make something so beautiful out of thin air.”

Lying in the depths of his bedroom, blanketed by the darkness and bathing in streams of moonlight, Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat.

For the first time in his life, he doesn’t have a joke to spew out on the spot. He’s speechless, just for a moment, a quick blink of a second, with nothing to say. Because, if he really thinks about it, that’s sort of what happened with you.

You were just his customer and he was just your dealer.

You were a loyal client and then a girl way out of his league that he developed a too big a crush on. Then you made him come in his underwear and washed the sticky stains out of the denim for him. Now you’re on the phone with him. You let him tell you all about his shitty day and apologize like you weren’t the only good thing about it — like you aren’t the only good thing, period.

It’s not the most cliche love story, nor is it the most beautiful, but it has his cynical little heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird.

Then, when all the mushy mess fades like fog, he finally thinks of something to say.

“It’s the witchcraft, sweetheart,” he shrugs to himself. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a devil-worshipping freak.”

“You know that’s not it, Eds,” you retort with the roll of your eyes.

You know that it’s hard, to be a metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks in the eighties — at the height of the Satanic Panic and all the delusional craze. That shit’s followed him since freshman year. Even still, it nips at his ankles like rabid dogs.

Maybe you were never naive or bored enough to believe all the rumors, but Eddie Munson was always more than that to you.

“No?”

“You can blame it on being a freak show all you want, but I know it’s because you’re one of the funniest, smartest, most creative guys I’ve ever met—”

“You must not know a ton of guys then, sweetheart,” he interjects playfully, like he couldn’t stand to hear you compliment him any longer. You’d give anything to see his blushing cheeks just now.

“…You’re kidding right?” you giggle in response.

“Sorry— that’s— I didn’t mean it like— It was— I was joking,” he stammers, frightened that he might’ve offended you in some way.

It only makes you laugh harder. Both of you know you lost count of all the guys you ‘know’ a long, long time ago. You do imagine it’s somewhere near ‘a ton’, though.

“I know, Eds,” you assure with a contented sigh. “I was just teasing.”

“Oh.”

“The slut and the freak… Who would’ve thought?” you wonder all dreamily, like it’s a fairytale as old as time itself. That’s what it feels like, sometimes.

Eddie isn’t sure what you mean — who would’ve thought you’d be friends? Two people caught in that in-between stage of platonic and romance that’s complete agony and total, total bliss? A couple of kids falling in love—

“It’s sort of kismet, huh?” he answers.

“I think so.”

“So, uh… What are you up to?” Eddie wonders then, equal parts curious and eager to keep the discussion going. He’s frightened any lapse in conversation is going to lead to saying goodbye.

He wants to stay on for hours, until both of you are fighting to stay awake, and then listen to the sound of your heavy breathing when you inevitably lose — like that isn’t the creepiest thing anyone’s ever wanted. He’ll fight Wayne about the bill if it comes to that, he doesn’t care, he just never wants to stop being this close to you.

“Do you want the real answer or the fake one?”

“Uh… Both?”

“Well, I’d say I was doing something super productive with my night, you know, catching up on all the boring adult shit, but then I’d be lying. And I don’t wanna lie to you, Eds,” you tell him with a teasing lilt playing at the edge of your voice.

Eddie swallows thickly, fearing he’d somehow been caught in his own lie — or rather, his half-truth. He moves on quickly, though not exactly full of grace. “Right. Yeah. Totally.”

“Honest answer is, that the only productive thing I’ve done tonight is shower, and now I’m in bed watching Fast Times and eating all the chocolate in my house, because I can’t cook for shit and I have nothing else better to do with my night,” you admit to him, picking at the thread of your comforter.

“Oh, don’t tell me I missed the ‘Moving in Stereo’ bit,” he agonizes.

“Just.”

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but it sounds like you’re having loads of fun tonight.”

“I’m having a lot more fun now,” you assure him.

“Glad I can be around to make you laugh,” he retorts like he’s not all too happy to do it.

“You’re a total comedian, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“If I’m the jester, you’re the queen, sweetheart,” he promises, a grin evident in his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat something fierce; you’re almost worried that he’s heard it. His words pierce your heart, a stroke of lightning or a blade of steel. He’s joking, but it’s so strangely profound, the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to you and it’s dripping in sarcasm.

It’s sort of Eddie’s love language, you’ve come to understand, to say something so sweet but coated in venom to make it sour again. It makes you feel special, loved, almost.

A fire builds behind your rib cage, sharp and distant and all-consuming.

“Are you alone, Eds?” you ask him suddenly.

The sudden curve ball in the conversation takes him by surprise. “Uh, yeah, Wayne’s at work right now… Why?”

“Because I want you to talk to me…”

“Oh?” is all he can say because isn’t that what he’s been doing this whole time?

“And I want you to say things that… maybe other people shouldn’t hear,” you explain slowly to him.

“…Oh.”

He’s heard about this only once before, the whole phone sex thing.

It was from Andy in the back of Ms. O’Donnell’s class a year or more ago, though Eddie never called him by that name. Andy, in all actuality, was Jason Carver’s right-hand man, and he meant that in every sense of the phrase. Eddie was more than convinced that the guy was so obsessed with the blonde haired, blue eyed douchebag that he was giving him handjobs on the regular.

But it seemed the dick brigade couldn’t function properly without their leader and Eddie had the misfortune of hearing all the mindless bullshit they were spewing behind him — basketball, parties, girls; in true white bread fashion.

His friends gathered around him like he was telling some sort of secret, though it was loud enough for anyone in a three foot radius to hear. Eddie, caught directly in the line of fire, heard all about Chrissy’s older sister, Wendy, who was two years older and off at college.

He’d gotten her number from some party he’d crashed. At least that’s how he told it, right before telling everyone that she swore like a sailor when she came and that she told him all the dirty things she wanted to do to him while she did.

“It was like her hand was on my dick, dude, I’m serious. That shit was crazy, bro,” he’d laughed after retelling the whole conversation in excruciating detail.

Eddie rolled his eyes to himself then, inwardly jealous that he’d never get to meet Wendy — or any other girl that would be willing to have phone sex with him, for that matter. His phone only ever rang for telemarketers or a rogue Dustin Henderson calling to annoy him.

But, here you are now, the most wanted girl in Hawkins, offering it to him on a silver platter. He wonders if you’ve done this before, surely you have — oh god, he thinks to himself, what if you’ve done this with Andy?

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you assure him after his unusually long silence. “I know you’re probably busy and tired and everything—”

“No! No, yeah, I— I want to. I totally want to.”

“Okay,” you nod. Petals of a flower begin to bloom in your chest as you lie back in bed, settling further into the mattress. The movie, already long forgotten, serves only as light and background noise. “So… What are you wearing, Eds?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs.

On the other side of Hawkins, in a trailer in the middle of nowhere, Eddie rises from where he’d originally flopped back onto his bed with the notion that it was going to be a semi-normal night. He props himself against his headboard. His fingers twitch at his thigh.

“Beat ya to it, Munson.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that it is very sexy, sweetheart. I’m wearing the same Hellfire shirt you saw me in, I don’t know, five hours ago — except now it’s got a rip in it because I totally ate ass on the way back to the van.”

He tells you this to make you laugh — it works — but he prays you don’t ask any questions. Because he got it while hurrying back to his van mere minutes after you’d left him, so hard he thought he was going to burst, with no more than seven minutes until his next client arrived.

Thankfully, he only needed three.

“I love that shirt,” you respond in place of saying what you really want to — ‘I love how that shirt looks on you’ — how it clings to his lean torso and reveals his midriff whenever he stretches his arms over his head.

“She’s a lit-tle worse for wear now, sweetheart,” he lilts.

“I’ll stitch it up for you.”

“And I’ve got on a pair of boxers that are so old they’re practically see through because I’m pretty sure they used to be Wayne’s back in… I don’t know… the eighteen-hundreds.”

Eddie was right. It was sexy, though, for the exact reason they weren’t supposed to be.

There was something so domestic about it all. You can picture him lying in his bed, in the most comfortable clothes he owns, in the one place he can feel at peace. Like a renaissance painting, something familiar and comforting and beautiful — fuck, you’d give anything to be next to him.

“…I think that means it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” he teases.

“Is it?” you mock in return.

“C’mon. Don’t leave me hangin’ over here.”

“It’s nothing, special,” you assure. Your eye flits down to peer at your own body — nothing special, indeed, you think to yourself. The lilac cotton set came from the grocery store downtown on the clearance rack you so often frequent. “I just have my underwear on. It’s very boring, I’m afraid.”

It’s not boring. Not to Eddie — the boy who prides himself on his insanely active imagination. He might not be able to pass english with his brain, but he can certainly create worlds with it, and it’s too easy for him to picture you. He imagines you, freshly showered, and smelling of the warm lavender-vanilla scent you always smell like, mostly bare and lazing upon a fluffy comforter.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, that’s— that’s really, uh— that’s really sexy.”

His thankful that you don’t seem to mind his poor excuse for dirty talk.

“It’s only because I was too lazy to get into actual pajamas.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Yeah?” you press, smiling to yourself and caging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Eds?” you wonder, made brave enough by his own admission.

“‘Course you can.”

“Before you called…”

“…Uh-huh?” he eggs on, intrigued at the way you trailed off, sounding suddenly shy.

“I was…” The thought of telling him what you were doing mere seconds before he called makes you nervous. It wasn’t like you were ashamed of touching yourself or anything, nor is the art of dirty talking lost on you, but something about Eddie makes you timid.

“You were… what, sweetheart?” he wonders gently, with a too audible grin.

“I was touching myself.”

That’s all you tell him. The words linger and hang in the air of your separate bedrooms and you cling to the silence — almost mortified and anticipating his reply. Eddie, meanwhile, feels like his tongue has swelled in his mouth and all the air has been punched out of his lungs.

“Oh...” he tries to respond without the breath to accurately do so. “…Yeah?”

“You know what Phoebe Cates does to me,” you try to joke.

His laughter crackles through the receiver. “Yeah. I kinda have her to thank for the other night, don’t I?”

“Give yourself some credit, Eds. The hottest guy in Hawkins was sitting right next to me, what was I supposed to do?”

“No way you think I’m the hottest guy in town,” he scoffs. “Everyone knows you’ve got a thing for pretty boys.”

“Pretty boys?” you echo with a giggle.

“Uh-huh. The Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington type, you know?”

“Well, I think you’re a hundred times prettier than he is.”

“Really?” he scoffs cynically, obviously not believing you.

“He wasn’t the one I was thinking about with my hand shoved down my panties,” you admit, immediately quelling his self-doubt. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Eddie clears his throat and then stammers, “I— I guess so— yeah.”

“Are you hard, Eds?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

And he just nods to himself at first, too stupid to answer audibly. He can feel himself stiffening in his boxers, only halfway hard now, but getting firmer by the second. Soon, he’ll be aching.

“Yeah…”

“Can you touch yourself for me?”

Eddie would rather take a bullet to the chest than say no to you — at least, he figures that’d probably hurt less — so he slips his fidgeting fingers through the band of his boxers and takes his warm, stiffening cock in his hand. He squeezes himself just enough to make his stomach tighten.

“Want you to touch yourself, too,” he admits, neither asking or demanding it, just telling you.

“Yeah?” you tease.

“Well, I think it’s only fair, sweetheart.”

You can’t help but notice how breathy he’s gotten — how it shakes on the inhale and hitches on the out. He’s got his hand shoved down his underwear and you’re jealous of the fingers that get to wrap themselves around his cock. You wish they were yours. Both of you will have to settle, it seems.

“Whatever you want, Eds,” you answer playfully.

You obediently slide your hand back into the warmth of your panties. Your fingers slot between your lips and collect the slick that had gathered there since before you’d even answered the phone. You bring it up to your clit, circling the pads of your fingers there until you twitch, then dragging them down to press into your opening. They slip in with ease.

Both of you have turned into lovesick idiots, separated by so many miles, and missing the other most ardently. Lying in the depths of your bedrooms, basking in a velvet loneliness, building with a mutual pleasure with nothing but yearning hands and longing sighs.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the sounds of your low moans and fragile whimpers that crackle through the static — beautiful still, but certainly no match to the ones you were breathing in his ear just hours ago.

His lashes dance across his cheeks as he tries to remember how you’d felt against his fingers, soft like velvet and delicate like silk, weeping and pulsating with need.

He drags his hand from his boxers and lets the band snap against his pelvis. He spits into his palm and wets his cock with it, sighing as he tugs at himself without much friction.

“Are you wet, sweetheart?” he asks, though the words threaten to get stuck in his throat.

“Yeah,” you whisper back like it’s some kind of secret.

You work yourself open with your middle finger and slip your pointer in next to it without much trouble. Your walls flutter around them while you fight to find the spot the makes you keen. You’re only able to tease it, fingers not quite long enough to caress it completely. Your thumb keeps working at your clit, though, to make up for the lost pleasure.

“I’ve been wet since I left you,” you admit through labored breaths. “Haven’t been able to… to stop thinking about you, Eds.”

“Glad I’m not the only one whipped over here, sweetheart,” he manages a laugh.

“No one’s ever made me come that hard before. Not just with their fingers,” you tell him mindlessly, dumb on pleasure, as you feel yourself climbing that peak.

“Really?”

“Never,” you promise, then whine. “Doesn’t even feel as good now… Can’t get as deep as you can—”

Eddie hangs on your every word as he works his palm up and down his stiff cock, squeezing at the base and swiping his thumb over the head with an expert hand. His face scrunches as his stomach starts to tighten, he’s close to coming — too close for his liking. He doesn’t want this to be over so quickly.

“You’ve ruined every other guy for me, Eddie Munson,” you confess, more than pleased to hear how it makes him whine. It sounds like it comes from the depths of his chest, the way it crackles low and needy through the receiver.

“Good,” he grumbles through his pants after he’s gathered himself all over again. “Don’t want anyone else to have you, sweetheart.”

This time you’re the one letting out the most pathetic of whines. It makes a smile flicker at the corners of his lips.

“You like that?”

It sounds so dirty, but you can tell by the sincerity of his tone that it’s genuine. So you answer with a longing truthfulness, a delicate “yes”entwined with a yearning moan.

“You just wanna belong to me, don’t ya?”

Now, this is dirty talk. The teasing lilt of his tone — it’s almost degrading — and makes you clench around your fingers. “Yes, please,” you whine, all but pleading for him now.

Eddie’s close, so dreadfully close, with a pleasure so tangible he could taste it. Your words make his cock twitch in his hold as the fire builds in his belly.

Through your whole-hearted promises and wanting moans, he can hear the sound of your slick through the receiver. The static reception doesn’t do it justice, but the wet click of your fingers working you open was unmistakable.

A moan grumbles in his throat as he digs the crown of his head back into his pillow. “Holy fuck— I can hear you, baby.”

“I’m so wet for you, Eds,” you tell him through fragile slurs, like it wasn’t inherently obvious.

You were wrong before, about wanting to hide from him. You couldn’t conceal your need for Eddie if you tried. The honey you drip, all sweet and just for him, wouldn’t let you keep it a secret.

“I know, baby, I know,” he nearly coos. “Are you— fuck, please tell me you’re close?”

“Yes,” you promise in a whine. Your thumb presses harder into your clit. It makes your thighs tense until they’re shaking.

“You rubbing your clit for me, sweetheart?” he asks like he knows. “I know that’s what you like.”

You whimper, working at the spongy spot within you as your hips buck off the bed. “Yeah.”

“Keep rubbing yourself like that for me, okay? Want you to keep going until you come for me.”

If he keeps talking to you like that, it’ll come a lot quicker than he’s prepared for.

It’s too soft to be much of a demand, but you listen obediently anyway, rubbing at yourself though your sensitivity keeps building. It grows like a morning tide, rising and flowing like white waves on an ocean, stirring something fierce in the depths of your stomach.

“Eddie,” you sigh out his name, broken through staggered pants.

You hear his stuttering breaths, too. “Y—Yeah?”

“I’m about to come,” you promise through a whine when the familiar crescendo sends a shock through your body.

“O… Okay,” he responds, pathetically, then whines, even more so.

“Want you to come with me… Please…”

“Fuck— okay. Shit, sweetheart, I’m almost there.”

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him.

“Your pussy,” he answers without thinking — he’s not doing a whole lot of that anymore. “Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier. Wanna feel you… fuck… Wanna feel you come on my tongue.”

“Holy shit, Eds,” you moan at his words, at the vivid picture they paint in your head.

“And you get so… God, you get so fucking wet. Just want you to drench me, baby.”

It feels good, to be complimented for something boys used to make fun of you for, to realize for the first time that’s it’s sexy — that you’re sexy — and that Eddie is more than happy to drown in you. The feeling almost rivals the impending orgasm that’s bound to hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m thinking about how I coulda took you on that bench… Just, fucking, get on my knees for you. Shove my head between your legs. Hold your— shit, baby— hold your thighs open, keep you exactly where I want you,” he rambles but then cuts himself off to moan at his own words. “Goddamn, sweetheart. Wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

The moan you let out is pitiful. It leaves your mouth in the most delicate cry.

No picture has ever been clearer than the one of Eddie between your thighs, your hands knotted in his hair to move him to exactly where you need him most and forcing him there. You can feel his fingers digging into your hips, his rings pressed against your burning skin, and the way your legs tremble on either side of his head.

“Yeah. Keep— Keep doing that. Keep moaning for me,” Eddie tells you. “I’m about to… holy fuck, I’m about to come.”

“Wanna feel your tongue in me so bad, Eds,” you whimper, egged on by the moan he lets out. “Want your cock even more.”

That’s what does him in, the assurance — the promise — that you want him just as bad as he wants you.

He tightens his fist around his cock, achingly hard and raging a crimson at the tip, trying to imitate the way you’d feel around him. It’s not all that close, not nearly as wet as the honey you’d be dripping for him, but his imagination does the rest of the work for him.

All at once, you’re on top of him, riding him for all he’s worth, your pussy threatening to swallow him whole. You’ve drenched him, just like he’d begged for, and that wet schlick noise still echoing from the receiver is the evidence of each of your assured thrusts over top of him.

You’re still pleading for him anyway — for more, for his tongue, for his cock — and he wants so desperately to give everything to you.

“Oh god, baby—” he sputters. He grips the phone in a white-knuckled, fist trembling. “Oh, fuck, I’m coming, baby.”

“Please, Eddie. Please come for me,” you plead over the low sounds of the forgotten film playing across the room and all the dirty wet sounds your pussy makes against your fingers. You sound like you need it, like you want his orgasm more than your own.

“Want you to come with me… Can you— Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Please?” It’s not dirty talk anymore. He’s actually fucking begging you and doesn’t feel the least bit ashamed to do so.

He wants to hear all the pretty noises you make when you come — that initial cry that stems from the depths of your soul, the high-pitched whimpers that come when the sensitivity builds, and the whines that leave you when it ebbs.

He wants to hear it over and over and over again, like a worn cassette, and play it until the tape spins out.

“Yes…” you promise through a set of stuttering breaths.

There’s no talking when either of you come. Eddie’s long forgotten to talk you through it, but you would barely hear him if he had. The phone slips out of your hand when your grip slackens and it falls to the pillow beside your head.

You chase your orgasm full throttle, working through the crescendo and the strikes of lightning, focusing only on his muffled moaning and the pretty sounds he makes as he comes.

The breath of your name whimpered through a tight throat is what does it for you. Your body has hardly any time to warn you before you’re gushing all over your fingers, twitching every time the pad of your thumb rubs over clit.

That cry, the one you always let out as you come — all wet and full of need — makes Eddie orgasm right alongside you.

He swipes his thumb over his head again, collecting the pearls of precum gathering there and sliding them down the base to squeeze himself there like he’d been doing this whole time. He clutches harder this time, imagines it's your cunt locking him in a vice-like grip, and whines in his throat when he comes.

Several loads of it spill onto his cotton boxers, most of it gathering along the side of his hand and dripping down his knuckles. His breath staggers as he works himself through his high, praising you through the phone like you’re the one who brought him to it.

“Fuck, baby… You’re so good… So fucking good.”

You’ve long settled from your own orgasm, still tingly and numb in some places, but not as gone as you had been just moments before. You still float on a cloud, getting lost as you stare through your window at the half-hidden stars sprinkling the night sky and feeling as though you could reach out and touch them.

You can feel the satin moonlight bathing you, and the jittery static of the neon of the television screen. You can feel everything and somehow nothing at all.

“I don’t know how you do it, Eds,” you confess, hardly thinking about the words spilling from your mouth when you lazily bring the phone to your ear again.

“Do what, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know… You always make me feel good. Even when you’re not here… Even when we’re not getting each other off.”

“I feel the same way,” he promises you, all mushy, even though he feels like a slob for wiping his hand off on his discarded jeans on his bed. “Just… wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there, too… Wish I could clean you up.”

Eddie’s eyes shut tight as his head tilts back to his pillow at the thought. “Fuck… You’re gonna make me hard again, sweetheart.”

You perk up suddenly as an idea sprouts like a flower in your head. A smile blooms on your lips, and you rise up onto your elbows, glowing with an unanticipated excitement. “How long would it take you to get ready?”

“…Get ready?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

“I mean, I— I don’t know. I figure if I put on some new underwear and a fresh pair of pants, I’ll be good as new... Why?”

“You wanna do something?”

“Yeah. Sure. Anything,” he answers clumsily in place of saying, ‘Anything to not have to be without you.’

“I wanna go to Skull Rock.”

“Skull Rock?” he repeats.

Legend has it, you and Steve made that place a local landmark. People have always said that Hopper caught the both of you one too many times up at Lover’s Lake and the Quarry, that you needed a more hidden place to fuck. So you’d stumbled around in the middle of the woods until you found a place the chief wouldn’t think to look for you.

You’d certainly found it. Then every other horny high schooler did too.

It’s the place you go to fuck, the most private place in all of Hawkins — hell, maybe even Indiana entirely for teenagers who can’t get the house to themselves. And as appealing as it sounds, to take you beneath a sky of twinkling stars, Eddie doesn’t want his first time with you to be on dirt or in the middle of the woods. That’s how all the horror movies start, don’t they?

So, needless to say, your answer takes him by surprise.

“Yeah! You can see all the stars really good from there. It’s too hard to see them so close to town.”

Eddie’s heart swells all at once at how sweet you are, like sugar poured directly onto his tongue. You’re not eager to be without him either, it seems, and that thought is as gratifying as it is thrilling.

You’re an adventure he’s about to go on, without a map or a way out, a journey he’s happy to go into blind as long as you’re holding his hand the entire way through it.

It breaks his heart to hang up the phone. He practically begs you to do it for him, and it makes you laugh — a kind giggle entwined with a tease ‘you’re such a baby.’ It rings in his ears long after the receiver clicks.

Most of all, he hates all the stoplights that separate your place from his. He hadn’t known where you lived before now, not until you uttered it over the phone. He makes a mental note to figure out a quicker way, somewhere through the winding back roads that his old van can speed through to make the distance less daunting.

He pulls into your apartment complex, a quaint two-story thing on the quieter side of town, where the woods are plentiful and the street lamps far fewer. He turns his radio down out of respect for all your neighbors that he’s sure he’ll never meet and spies you through the neon orange porch lights. You shut and lock your door in quick succession, then scurry across the way to meet him.

Eddie leans over to unlock the passenger side door for you, already beaming, and finds you’re smiling too when you climb in next to him. The grin you shoot his way outshines the night sky and makes a bright yellow sun of the girl sitting in his passenger seat.

“Hi,” you’d greeted him, all shy like you didn’t just make him come all over his hand thirty minutes ago.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he volleys back like he always does, with that big ol’ smirk and teasing lilt as he cock his head to the side — using his playfulness to cover up the bashful mess you so easily reduce him too.

Neither of you had gotten particularly dressed up to see each other. All he did was put on fresh under and pajama pants. You succumbed to a smilier laziness it seems, haphazardly brushing through your half-damp hair, throwing on a too big t-shirt, and calling it a day.

The cotton hangs low at your chest, stretched out and obviously well-loved. It falls well past your thigh, though you spend much of the drive anxiously tugging it down.

It makes him wonder what you’re wearing beneath it. If you’ve tugged on a pair of shorts or if you’re in the bra and (undoubtedly wet) underwear you’d told him you were wearing over the phone.

Eddie winds himself up all over again while you sift through the flimsy case of endless cassettes he keeps tucked in the glove compartment that never quite shuts all the way.

“How do you now have any ABBA tapes?” you wonder like it’s baffling, with an Iron Maiden tape in one hand and Cinderella in the other. Metallica plays lowly, nearly inaudibly, from the stereo.

Eddie laughs and darts his eyes from the darkened back roads to look at you, all smiley and bathed in moonlight, before turning back to the road again. “Uh, because I’m not a thirty-year-old woman. That’s the shit moms listen to.”

“Moms and hot girls,” you retort jokingly.

“Right, moms and hot girls listen to ABBA — of which, I am neither, sweetheart. Sorry to be the one to break it to you… Besides, it’s not like you walk around listening to, fucking, I don’t know— Van Halen or whatever.”

“Hey. I listen to Van Halen,” you shoot back.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s got what it takes!” you sing suddenly, not quite catching the rhythm of the song, but smiling anyway as you reach for his forearm resting on the center console. “So tell me why can’t this be love!”

“Oh, my god— that’s literally their worst song,” Eddie chuckles through the widest grin you’ve ever seen from him.

It makes you smile big too, looking like an idiot who’s totally head over heels for the boy next to her. And of that, you’re happily guilty of.

“Not true,” you shake your head defiantly. “I love that song.”

“So that means it has to be good, right?” he retorts playfully, shooting you a teasing look, though his beam is more than sincere.

“Obviously,” you answer with a scoff that makes Eddie roll his eyes.

He knows he’s going to start to love it, though, if only because it’s the only Van Halen song you halfway know.

He’s going to hear that song on the radio and he’s going to want to turn it, but he’s going to remember this moment now — the one with you reaching for him while you sing the lyrics to a song he can’t stand, sitting pretty in his passenger seat, while the moonlight blanches your smile and the bare skin of your thighs.

Eddie Munson is going to love that goddamn song for the rest of his life.

He parks as close as he can to Skull Rock, knowing his van can’t work its way that far into the woods. The two of you are forced to walk the rest of the way, not exactly minding it, though Eddie’s incessantly worried you’re going to get cold.

He’s already forced his jacket upon you, which you took with little fight. It warmed you almost immediately — with his cozy heat and musky cologne.

You make mindless conversation the entire way there, about music and then about his band and then what animal you’d want to be in your band if that were the least bit possible. Eddie chooses a sheep without any hesitation, though you’re confident that a penguin would be far cooler.

You keep a careful distance between you, at first, like both of you are too scared to initiate the first move. That is, until you trip over a raised branch and nearly eat ass on the forest floor. Then Eddie’s holding your hand the entire way, keeping you close.

“If you wanted me to hold your hand, you coulda just said so, you know?” he jokes. “Didn’t have to go through all the dramatics, sweetheart.”

You try and yank your hand out of his grip in protest then, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he pulls you closer and twirls you into a bear hug that you happily relax into.

He feels your sigh fan against his collarbone as you rest your head at the nape of his neck, his arms wrap around your shoulders as yours settle at his waist. He rocks you back in forth, in a moment that’s too almost sweet to make fun of.

Eddie finds a way, of course, “See?” he singsongs. “I’ll hug you like this all the time, if you want. You don’t have to almost kill yourself to get my attention, babe.”

“All I did was trip,” you laugh at his theatrics.

“Death by tree root… What a gnarly way to go.”

He holds your hand the entire way to Skull Rock.

He doesn’t let you go once, not until you’re ascending the large boulders to plant yourselves at the very peak of them. He’s grabbing you again once you settle, though, and the two of you just sit there, for several long moments, just gaping at the stars that dance with life above you. They sprinkle an infinite void with enough light that manages to touch you, trillions of miles away.

There’s a subtle beauty in that Eddie never would’ve appreciated before now.

“Shit, babe,” he breathes through a whimsical existential dread. “You were right. The stars are really fucking pretty out here.”

You love how much he loves this, to come to Skull Rock with you and count the stars. Any other guy would’ve had their tongue down your throat by now, stuffing your hand down their unbuttoned jeans.

But not Eddie.

He just holds your hand because he likes the feeling of his fingers entwined with yours, grasping tightly onto you while he gazes at an infinite universe — like you might float off right along with it.

His neck is stretched to gape at the night sky. You catch his adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. You want so desperately to kiss his milky white skin and sprinkle blotchy red bruises there.

His curly locks fall over his shoulders. He shakes his head to get his bangs out of his eyes while the chocolate buttons of them dart around the endless void.

He’s more beautiful than every star in the sky combined. You can’t be sure of how many that is, of course, but it’s a whole bunch if you had to guess. It makes sense, though, for the prettiest boy in the whole damn galaxy.

“Told ya,” you answer with a smile, leaning over to nudge his shoulder with yours. “You come out here often?”

You’re asking if he takes girls here and he knows it, but it’s not like you’re being inconspicuous about the whole thing. Eddie gauges it almost immediately, the subtle jealousy hinting at your tone — something no one else would’ve caught — and he squeezes your hand in reassurance.

He shakes his head. “No… Never.”

“Never?” you press with raised brows, like his answer shocks you.

“Ever. It’s not really my scene, I guess… But what about you, sweetheart? Never seen you around these parts before.”

You knock his shoulder again, harder this time. “Shut up. You already know the answer to that.”

“Yeah…” he nods to himself, eyes darting back and forth as he reminisces on something. “You and Harrington, you and Hargrove. Hell, I think I heard about you and Jason one time—”

“That was a long time ago,” you argue. “Before I even knew you, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs in defense. “You totally have a thing for pretty boys, sweetheart.”

“I never said I didn’t, Eds. Just that you were pretty, too.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes like he isn’t glowing red beneath the moonlight.

“You’re better than all three of them, Eds,” you confess with a sudden softness that catches his attention almost immediately. He turns his attention from the sky to look at you properly again. His breath catches at you sad you look — all beautiful and coated in shades of blue.

“…Yeah?”

You nod and drag his hand into your lap to fidget with his fingers. You trace the skeleton heart on his middle finger, subverting all your attention there because it’s easier than having to look at him now. “Better than all of them combined— not even just them, you know? Out of everyone. No one’s ever been this nice to be before.”

“Me neither, sweetheart,” he confesses with a morose grin. “The freak of Hawkins High attracts a lot of assholes, believe it or not.”

“Is it bad?” you wonder cautiously, like you’re scared to hear the answer. In some ways, you are.

You hadn’t known him in high school, not really. For obvious reasons, you ran in very different circles. You never even had classes together. There was never any excuse to be close to each other before now, never a reason to become friends. So you didn’t.

You grew to know him as a freak, and he knew you as the town slut. Then somewhere down the line, he became your dealer and now… here you were.

But you’ve graduated now and he’s still army crawling towards a diploma. You couldn’t save him from the hell of Hawkins High even if you wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he shrugs. “Jason and the dick brigade just wanna make my life hell, that’s all.”

“I hope they aren’t,” you respond shyly.

Eddie scoffs then shoots you a smile. “Oh, of course not. Look at me. I’m at Skull Rock with the most wanted girl in Hawkins. I’m living the dream, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t care?” you wonder, peering at him through your lashes, as you twist the silver cross around his finger.

“Care about what?”

“That I’m a slut,” you laugh like it’s obvious.

Eddie doesn’t think it’s all that funny. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s not like it isn’t true, Eds,” you retort with a trembling smile. “I mean, that’s literally what people call me — most people don’t even care to call me by my real name anymore.”

“I don’t care,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t give a shit about what people say about you. If everyone cared about what everyone said about everyone, neither of us would be here right now… Because you’d think I was some devil-worshipping freak and I’d think you were too busy getting it on with Chief Hopper.”

You screw your face up immediately at the thought. The mere idea was repulsive. The asshole was practically your father these days. Jim Hopper was in that small bunch of available people you would never fuck, and happily so.

“I’d never stoop that low,” you joke.

“I like you, how you are, right now,” Eddie promises. “Don’t want you to change a damn thing.”

His brown eyes twinkle with a sincerity that rivals the stars above you. All of a sudden, you don’t care about a bunch of heavenly bodies light years away from you — you care about this man, the one sitting beside you now, holding your hand even though your palms have gone all sweaty.

It’s too good to be true — the way you looks at you, the way he talks to you, the way he treats you. You’re scared that it’s a dream, that you’ll wake up and find that none of this was ever real. Or worse, that he was, and that he just didn’t care about you the way you cared about him.

It’s almost irrational. Almost.

But it’s happened before.

And it’s left you a scarred and mangled mess.

You shake your head to yourself and scrunch your face as you turn to look him. “Have you ever done this before, Eddie?”

“Don’t what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “Any of this? With anyone else?”

He’s grateful he doesn’t have to lie. Or tell some clumsy half-truth for the sake of saving his own skin. He realizes tonight is perhaps the most honest he’s ever been with you, baring his pale soul beneath a silver moonlight.

“Never,” he answers, unwavering, with a firm shake of his head.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods, then swallows thickly at a gut-wrenching realization. “I’ve never felt his way about anyone else before.’

“Me neither,” you promise.

It’s a tad more meaningful coming from you than from a boy who’s never had someone to love and to love him back.

You’re experienced, you’ve found what you like and what you don’t like. You’ve been with guys who have given you the world and guys that have ended yours altogether. And out of all of them — all of the assholes in Hawkins you could’ve picked — you’ve chosen the freak.

You want him.

You want Eddie.

The revelation makes him grin. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, Eddie Spaghetti.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #virgin!eddie munson x reader #virgin!eddie munson

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steddiealltheway · 9 months

Text

Part Three of Six of Meddling ;). Part One. Part Two. AO3 Link.

Nancy drives the four of them to whatever mystery location as Steve has a minor freak out in the backseat because it’s finally hitting him that he kissed Eddie. And Eddie kissed him back. And that’s not something he wants to just breeze over and pretend never happened.

How will things ever be the same after this?

Steve runs a hand through his hair as reality hits a little too hard.

“You okay?” Eddie whispers as his hand moves to rest on Steve’s knee.

Steve glances down at the hand and squeezes it once before he replies, “Yeah.” But he knows his smile is a little too forced based on the way Eddie’s staring back at him with concern.

The car slows to a halt.

“We’re here!”

Steve glances out the window, and it suddenly hits him. They’ve taken them to the bar where they first met.

“Throwback,” Eddie breathes out.

It had been a while since they had been back there. Things had changed over the past three years, and they had found a new bar with better acoustics for Eddie to play at when he isn’t hogging the small stage at the café where he works.

Still, sometimes Steve misses the place where some of his best memories had formed.

Once they get inside, nostalgia hits Steve in a way that’s almost bittersweet. Eddie must be feeling the same way based on the low whistle he lets out next to him as they look around. Nothing has really changed since they were last here.

“We’re going to grab a table away from you guys but remember to take pictures and just text whenever you want to head out. But this is our lunch plan so eat up,” Robin says with a big smile before grabbing Nancy’s hand and pulling her to a far corner spot.

“I’m kind of relieved that they’re not sitting with us,” Eddie admits as he and Steve walk to the opposite part of the somewhat dead bar. “Can’t wait to get that camera out of my face. I just hope they don’t try to sneak pictures of us while we’re eating.”

Steve snorts. That sounds exactly like something Robin would do, so he does his best to find a booth where he can’t see the girls and vice versa. He eventually points at one and sits across from Eddie, and the sight of him thoroughly distracts him from any thoughts about Nancy or Robin.

Eddie pulls out his phone and sets it down on the table. He taps on it once and asks, “What if we only did a cheesy picture of each other before we eat, with our food, and a quick selfie after we finish? Then we can just live in the moment and enjoy this.”

Steve sticks out his hand for Eddie to shake. “Deal.”

Eddie grabs his hand and presses a quick kiss against the back of it. “Deal,” he agrees with a wink.

A blush starts to creep up on Steve’s face, so he ducks his head and grabs his phone – but he knows he’s not being subtle about trying to hide his face. As a new means of distraction, he hits the camera icon and quickly snaps a picture of Eddie without warning. “Pre-date picture done.” Oh, why did he have to call it a date?

Eddie luckily brushes off his little blunder and scoffs, “No, you have to redo that. You gave me no warning!”

Steve just laughs as Eddie pouts. Next thing he knows, Eddie’s phone is coming up and snapping a picture of him. Steve freezes. “Hey, that’s unfair.”

Eddie snorts and presses on the picture. He frowns at it before turning his phone around. “Why do you always have to be so photogenic?”

The picture is... very telling of everything Steve is feeling. He can practically see the joy and love radiating off himself in a way he hasn’t seen before. It’s terrifying.

Eddie turns the phone back and clicks around a few times before proudly smiling and turning his phone off.

“What?” Steve asks suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. But could you check the time on my phone?” Eddie asks, sliding it over.

It’s a weird request, but Steve goes through with it, tapping on the screen. “It’s...” he trails off before he sees the time.

His smiling face stares back at him as it covers the lock screen on Eddie’s phone. He glances up at Eddie who watches him somewhat anticipatorily. Steve doesn’t say anything, but he unlocks his own phone and immediately changes his lock screen to the picture he took of Eddie.

It’s cuter than Steve thought it would be considering that he took Eddie off guard. He isn’t looking at the camera. Instead, he’s smiling softly at Steve with his dimples on full display. The only thing wrong with it is that it’s a little bit blurry, but he thinks it adds to Eddie’s general vibe.

It’s the perfect lock screen really although he thinks Robin and Dustin might kill him for kicking them off it.

It’s worth it.

As Steve slides his phone to Eddie, a waiter comes by and introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Tony, I’ll be your waiter today. And the ladies over in the corner told me you two were celebrating an anniversary today?”

Oh, no. Even from a distance, the two are meddling as much as they can. Steve is about to say no when Eddie replies, “Yes, it’s been three years since we first met in this very bar, and two years since we started dating.” He leans in toward the waiter all conspiratorially and stage whispers, “Give it a year, and I’ll probably be back to propose to him right here.”

Steve chokes on his saliva.

“Sorry, babe, did I say that too loud?” Eddie asks with a big smile. He turns back to the waiter. “He’s always telling me that I don’t know how to whisper.”

It’s true, but Steve can’t say very much as he keeps coughing.

“We’ll get two waters please,” Eddie says, starting to sound a bit concerned.

The waiter must be too because before Steve knows it, a glass of water is being placed in front of him and he’s chugging it down. Gosh, he wishes this were a beer.

Eventually, the coughing dies down, and Steve shoots an apologetic look at the waiter. He just smiles back and politely asks, “Do you know what you want to order?”

Steve shakes his head and swipes the water off his mouth. “Haven’t looked at the menu yet, we were too busy... reminiscing.” Since when is he playing along with the lie?

“No worries. You two take your time and happy anniversary.” The waiter quickly dismisses himself, and Steve is left to stare at Eddie.

“Why would you do that?”

Eddie throws his hands up. “One, this is great practice for faking a relationship, lets us establish some backstory. And most importantly, two, celebrating an anniversary means a free dessert.”

“We’re at a bar, not a Chili’s.”

“There’s still the potential!” Eddie argues back. “Please, Steve, my love, my sweetheart, my muffin-”

“Please never call me your muffin ever again,” Steve says, cringing.

Eddie sighs but then a mischievous grin slowly appears on his face. This can’t be good. “I promise not to call you that if you pretend to be my boyfriend of two years during this lunch.”

The payoff is quite great, but he can’t let Eddie know that, So, Steve takes his time rolling his eyes and pretending to weigh the pros and cons of it all while Eddie shakes the table with how hard he’s bouncing his leg.

Steve reaches under the table and grabs his knee to still it. “You have yet another deal. But you have to stop shaking the table, too.”

“Sorry,” Eddie apologizes bashfully. He quickly moves on when he realizes Steve’s phone is still on the table and taps on the screen. He smiles at it and pushes the phone back. “Not as bad as I thought.”

“Not bad? It’s perfect,” Steve scoffs as he grabs one of the menus at the end of the table.

He doesn’t get a response, but Eddie is smiling at his menu when Steve glances up.

Eventually, they put in their food order and chat about random things just to catch up a bit although Steve talks to Eddie every day – usually in person but occasionally over text.

Then, Eddie randomly throws out the question, “So, are you seeing anyone?”

Steve swallows hard and shakes his head. “No, are you?”

“No,” Eddie replies.

Steve tries and fails to hide a smile. They both know if they started dating someone the other would be one of the first to know, but it’s cute that Eddie asked.

Their food comes out, and their conversation halts for a bit while they eat. But the relationship conversation plays over and over again in Steve’s head until Eddie interrupts his thoughts. “Man, I can’t believe it’s only been three years since I met you.”

Steve laughs and finishes chewing his fry. “It feels like I’ve known you longer.”

“Technically you have, if you count all the times Dustin mentioned my name before we met.”

“Could’ve met sooner if I hadn’t been so afraid that you would be a weird nerd,” Steve teases him.

“Hey, you know I’m both of those things, so don’t say it like it’s an insult,” Eddie says with a smile.

“Well, I didn’t think those two things could be hot together, so excuse me for assuming,” Steve replies while shoving a fry into his mouth.

Eddie leans forward. “You think I’m hot?” he asks as if he’s teasing him, but Steve can hear a bit of the uncertainty in his tone, so instead of shaming himself for admitting it he shrugs.

“Always have.”

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds before he clears his throat and changes the subject, “You should’ve worn the yellow sweater.”

The comment startles a laugh out of Steve. “Of course you would bring that up. I’ve never understood your obsession with the thing.”

“Well, there’s a reason I brought it up now.”

“Oh really,” Steve says raising his eyebrows, not ready for whatever line Eddie has prepared. “And why’s that?”

“It’s what you were wearing when we first met,” Eddie says as if it’s nothing.

It takes Steve entirely off guard. His stomach does a little flip. “You remember what I was wearing after all this time?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says but quickly moves on to ask, “Speaking of that night, what happened to that girl you were with?” He looks away as he asks the question, taking one of Steve’s fries but still not looking him in the eye as he eats it.

Steve tries to shake off the little piece of information Eddie just gave up as thinks back. He shrugs. “Nothing happened there. I was actually on a date with her that night. She left after we met. Told me I should go out with you instead since I hadn’t paid her any attention since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Eddie glances back up at him, holding so much intensity in his gaze. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

“Because I didn’t think I had a chance and didn’t want to risk getting my heart broken.”

Eddie stares at him, and Steve thinks that they both feel it. All the time they lost that they could’ve potentially spent together if Steve would’ve said something three years ago. But maybe Eddie is thinking something entirely different.

“Steve-”

“Hi, I hope everything is tasting alright. Also, I have a dessert on the house for you two. Happy anniversary, and I hope to see you two next year,” the waiter says as he slides the check on the table. Steve swears that he has the same bad timing as Robin and glares at the man as he turns his back.

“Steve-” Eddie tries again, but then, speak of the devil, Robin is suddenly scooting into the booth next to him and making grabby hands at the dessert.

“I love free dessert,” she says. “Thanks for going through with it. I thought it would be good practice.” It’s a clear lie based on the way she’s staring at the chocolate cake.

Nancy gives Steve an apologetic smile as Robin steals his spoon and digs in.

Steve shoots Eddie a look trying to convey, we’ll talk later.

He gets a sad smile in response, then they both pick up their forks and take a bite of the cake. Steve can barely enjoy it as he knows that the fate of his and Eddie’s relationship might rely on their next conversation. But Nancy and Robin also won’t leave them alone.

This is not good.

Part Four

Tag List :

@henderdads @little-gae-shit @dreamingtheimpossibe @leethegay @lazyavenuewhispers @olibxr @thegayestpersonever @heartsforhawke @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @evillitteguy @miss-hit @infrogulous @romanticdestruction @liz5100 @evix-syne666 @bebe07011 @corrodedseraphine @meganwinchester @manda-panda-monium

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie fanfic

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romanoffsbish · 9 months

Text

We All Have Scars

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Fem!R x GN!OC (Robin)

WandaNat x F!R

Request | WC: 8,088

Warnings: Shitty Partner | Mental Breakdown | Breast Reduction (Insecurities) | Angst -> Fluff (H/C)

Smut: Oral (R) | Fingering (R) | Thigh Riding (R) Enchanted Strap (R receiving / All affected) | Overstimulation | Soft & Dirty

"Did you see Y/N?" You stopped dead in your tracks as you heard your name come from the agency creeps mouth. You were meant to only be passing the break room. Being an Avenger now you hardly ever came to Shield's HQ, but their agents missions would occasionally overlap with more serious affairs, and when they did you were brought here to debrief.

What you didn't expect was to hear people talk about you so casually as if this wasn't still a work environment. Eavesdropping was taboo, but you justified it after hearing your name.

Part of you wished you'd never stayed...

——

"Of course I have Marvin," the familiar voice of your partner startled you, the fact that they'd engage in a conversation with the company sleaze threw you off, but it was their following words that really left you feeling uneasy. "I fuck her dumb on the regular, or did you forget?"

"That's actually why I'm asking," he chuckled, you could just picture the sinister expression as he goes on, "Why would you let a woman like that lessen her greatest asset? Those boobs of hers were once the center of my wet dreams."

You'd felt bile rising, and as they spoke next your mouth was overtaken by a putrid film.

"Let?" They sneered in question, "I begged her not to, but she's stubborn, and didn't listen. Honestly, she'd have been better off for it had she because her chest is all scarred up now. I can't even fuck her without the lights off."

Everything came crumbling down for you in that clarifying moment, the clipboard in your hand tumbling to the ground, and alerting the people to your presence behind the oak door.

You didn't stay long enough for them to see you though, it was purely instinctual the way your legs were taking you to the only place you felt like you could find solace. Running so fast through the place that once employed you, and failing to see the looks of pure concern on your friends faces as you brushed right by them.

Wanda heard snippets of your thoughts as you rushed right by her and Natasha, and her heart absolutely shattered at just how little you thought of yourself. She was desperate to know why, but invasion was never an option for her. So against her hearts desires for understanding she didn't dive deeper, but with the way you were crying so openly, and the emergence of your bewildered looking partner she knew.

The witch shared a look with her girlfriend, and after a moment of eye contact the redhead was bolting it down the hallways in line with the route she knew you'd be taking. It was the only place you felt safe when in such a space.

As Natasha left she knew your, likely to be ex, was in for a world of hurt. They'd been hoping for the dissolution of your arrangement for ages now, but they would never have wanted it to be at the expense of your very wellbeing.

Nonetheless, Wanda would handle them well.

After a minute of sprinting she came to a stop outside of the very oak tree she and Wanda had spent months building a treehouse on for you. The house itself was put together by Natasha and Clint, the retired archer who came around one day and took an instant liking to you, in a similar way as the longtime couple had. But the homey decor was all Wanda's work, as was the enchantment that kept it invisible to others.

Only the Avengers could see it. It was also even more restrictive with entry privileges, as only you, and the couple could enter uninvited.

As the redhead used the sturdy ladder to climb up she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. The adrenaline, spurred on by her need to reach you was quickly wearing off. Her body was begging her to just take a deep breath, but she could hear your distinct, hysterical sobs so she settled on taking in a labored set of breaths as she just continued to overexert her body.

Upon entering she saw you hunched over in a corner of the room with your head in your hands as your body shook uncontrollably. Natasha wanted to hold you, to scoop you up and shield you from the looming darkness but she knew you needed the option to choose.

"Y/N," Natasha cautiously approached you, her hands were reaching out for you but you were hesitant to accept her touch. You knew she was good, that she'd never hurt you, but your gut also reminded you that you thought the same thing about your parents, who used to patch up your "boo-boo's," until they sold you off to Hydra at five once your brothers were born.

They couldn't afford three mouths to feed, and they deemed yours the one worth sacrificing.

Then there was Strucker, the man you'd once called papa before he became the actual devil. One second you're playing with his monocle while perched upon his desk, then the next you're becoming another one of his lab rats. He made the decision to become ruthless with you as soon as you'd turned ten, and were ready to physically undergo the life altering trials.

Your mistrust fully bloomed with that betrayal.

Every time you made a connection, the other person would be shocked at your eagerness to trust in them. Most people pitied you really, so desperate to be loved by another that you'd easily settle for mediocrity. With every single partner you'd give them all of you, and they only ever found new ways to tear you down.

You finally thought you got it right with Robin, but you realized now you didn't. They were just like the rest of them, and you were finding it increasingly hard to cope with another loss.

Robin was a dream, they were the same person who flashed you a warm smile a little over six months ago after a rather exhausting mission. They bought you dinner, and kissed you softly on the cheek before bidding you farewell. As time went by they'd be the one to hold your hand through the countless stormy nights. It never occurred to you that they'd become a nightmare too, the kinda person who would happily humiliate you in front of your peers.

You trusted them; poor, silly girl that you were.

Everyone around you warned you not to date the person in charge of spinning stories. Their literal job came with the responsibility to twist the truth until it looked presentable to people.

It really shouldn't be a shock to you that they'd embarrass you like this, taking your newfound insecurities and broadcasting them even after they'd assured you that you were still beautiful.

As if your former colleagues needed to know about what you looked like beneath your bra.

You were a mess of emotions, but mortified took the prime spot as you envisioned the word spreading like wildfire. Shield was one thing, but the idea that the people you now called family would get an insight into the situation.

Well, that was enough to lead you right here.

To a place that shielded you from the curious looks, and the invasive whispers. It was your only escape, where you thought you'd have at least some time to be alone in your shame, before your saviors would come along. But in your rush to escape you'd forgotten the couple was just as present on the prior mission.

"Detka please," Natasha was desperate in her pleas, she could see you already withdrawing, and it terrified her. It'd been years since she last saw you like this. At the time they were hesitant as well, but after a few hours with you it was clear you were nothing short of docile.

They had placed you into a containment cell after retrieving you from a Hydra facility. You were so incredibly broken, and too easily pliant to be seen as a threat. You were soft spoken, and cooperative, yet you clearly held mistrust.

From the very first day Natasha knew you'd become someone she cared about. With her and Wanda being in charge of training you it wasn't much of a shock that you let them in. They accepted you just the same, but with the distance starting at shield created they never got to have you the way they wanted. Then as you were transitioning to the Avengers you met Robin, and it nearly sent Wanda off the rails.

The brunette knew they were trouble, and she didn't even need her powers to tell her that. But the collective warnings fell on deaf ears as you chose to pursue the apparent dead end.

Natasha knew too, but she held her resentment closer to her heart, and remained the only one capable of keeping Wanda focused on the fact that you weren't theirs to claim. You were not something to be owned, but earned. So, they settled on being a solid base for you, and if they play their cards right now, once you've healed they'll finally get to call you theirs outwardly.

As the redhead caught your shifting gaze she could see your resolve softening, so she settled on the ground before you. There was a good five inches between you though, giving you any space you could want. "Can I hold you detka?"

It was tense, staring into her loving gaze as you weighed out the options. You could either stay where you are, cold and broken, or you could crawl into her awaiting lap, where you knew intimately that it brought warmth, and peace.

After a few minutes of chaotic deliberation you scrambled into her lap. Her arms wrapped around you just as fast, and you cried against her chest as her unyielding love overwhelmed your persistently aching heart. "It's okay sweet girl, I don't know what they did, but I promise you didn't deserve it. They're a dumbass..."

You froze in her embrace, your mind and heart were now at war with one another as you chose to stutter in their defense, "N-no, Natty, don't be mad at them. They were just being —."

"Don't do that," Natasha shook her head, her own lip began to tremble as she really looked into your eyes to see your mind in scattered pieces that required mending. "They don't deserve your forgiveness, don't defend them."

"Th-they didn't mean it, they couldn't have.."

It broke the redhead to see you trying to give Robin the benefit of the doubt, all the while you are trembling in her arms as you tried to process your overwhelming feelings of hurt. Which is why she decided it was best to offer you comfort while being brutally honest.

"Sometimes people are just terrible Y/N, there's no rhyme or reason, and there's no changing that fact no matter how hard we want to. It's easier to pretend they had a valid reason for being so cruel, to bury that intimidating surge of anger and fill the new void left behind with a faux sense of personal accountability."

Natasha's callous thumb softly ran over the wet skin of your cheek, she smiled warmly at you as she let the abrupt silence linger for a moment. Offering you as much comfort as she could while she carefully gathered her thoughts.

"Because facing the truth that they're a vile person that we let in to hurt us is harder than rightfully condemning their behavior." Natasha saw you coming to terms with her words, but it only proved more devastating as more tears streamed down your temples and soaked into the cotton of her hoodie. "So please don't do it, because when you do, you're only masking the hurt instead of feeling it. You have to face the truth detka, feel the betrayal and the hurt long enough to free you from it and to let you heal."

"W-why does this always happen to me Natty?" Natasha firmly pressed her lips to your hairline and took in a shaky breath through her nose as she willed the tears in her eyes not to slip. "I don't know Y/N/N, but you deserve better."

Natasha's voice wavered, she truly didn't get it, because if given the opportunity to have you at their side, she knew that Wanda and her would love you right. You'd never have to question their intentions, or the strength of their love for you because it was true. It would be perfect...

"It hurts so much," your voice was barely above a whisper, but your hands were strong as they clung to her in sheer desperation. "Make it stop Natty, please, I-I can't." You began to shiver, and in an instant her hoodie was slid over your head and within seconds your body calmed.

"Yes you can detka," Natasha shushed you, with a warm smile reserved for you once your bleary eyes had found hers again. "You're strong enough to face it detka, and we're right here. Wanda and I got you now, you're safe."

"I'm safe," you repeated a bit unsure, but as her arms tightened around you it was made clear. You timidly smiled up at Natasha, and she returned it with ease. She saw your exhaustion clear as day with her eyes locked on yours, so she shifted her body, then kept her hold on you firm as she took you both to the grey recliner. She put a playlist Wanda made for you on shuffle, then kissed your cheek. "Now rest."

Natasha enjoyed cradling you, even if her arm had long since gone numb holding up the deadweight of your upper body. With you nuzzled into the cloth of her shirt she could feel your warm breath against her skin exposed by the v-neck of her blouse. Her heart practically leapt out of her chest, she missed having you close ever since you entered your relationship.

They'd nearly had you, but you slipped away, and that had the gravest of consequences...

"How is she?" Natasha looked up to see her girlfriend hovering by the doorway, almost afraid to enter the space you both currently occupied. "Okay for now, did you figure out what that wretched fool did to her?" Wanda shook her head as she approached, her hand gently cupped your face, and she smiled as you leaned into her touch. "I didn't really ask..."

Natasha furrowed her brow in confusion as she peered up at Wanda for clarity, but then she silently understood the witches loving gaze.

It was your story alone to tell.

Wanda handled your ex, and the agent with the easiness of a call to Fury. The matriarch of Shield held no hesitation after he caught wind of what was said. He nipped the spread of the scenario in the butt with a hardened glare. It wasn't enough for Wanda though, so with a flick of her wrist she ensured that the last hour of all of their lives was a muddled memory.

Whatever was said, was forgotten by all except for the guilty parties who were thrown out on their asses. Wanda glared at Robin as they rushed out of HQ, sending a shiver down their spine that let them know to never return.

Natasha was satisfied with the information, but she also knew you'd likely be devastated. To find that you were abandoned again is going to hold you prisoner to thoughts of inadequacy.

All the couple can do is be there for you, and hope that with time you'll be made anew.

"What's in the bags?" Natasha moved the conversation on, and Wanda held the bag out to give sight to the contents. "I made Y/N/N her favorite meal, and I ran to our old Shield rooms to collect some pajama's for all of us."

"We're sleeping here tonight?" Natasha asked with a pout, her back instantly feeling that familiar ache that the air mattress brings.

"Suck it up kotenok," Wanda snorted, "Y/N needs to not be bothered by the guys tonight."

With their chatter above you it wasn't shocking for Wanda to be the first to witness your eyes fluttering open. You looked rather adorable as you tried to piece together how you ended up in her lovers arms, and then she saw clarity wash over you. For a moment you frowned, then you yawned and reached out for her.

Wanda set the bags down on the coffee table with a soft chuckle then she pulled you up and into her warm embrace all as she smiled down at a pouting Nat in a gloating manner. "How does a treehouse sleepover sound sweetie?"

"You guys don't have to do that, I'm okay now," you mumbled into her shirt, she hardly caught your words, but she merely tightened her arms around your waist and swayed your bodies. "Detka, you don't have to pretend with us, you don't need to go through this all alone. So, I am going to get some bowls, and you'll go pick a movie while Natty here sets up the projector."

You knew by her tone that there was no room for debate, so you did as you were told. In the end she was right, you were far from fine, but as you laid between their bodies as the film continued to roll, you knew as long as they were around that the healing was possible.

——

In a years time, you knew with certainty that was true. Wanda and Natasha, your now lovers of three months, had saved you from ruin.

You were a shell of yourself at first, hardly speaking to anyone upon reaching back to the compound, and reverting back to your old ways of solitude in a blink. Always polite, but never forthcoming with your presence or words.

Robin leaving over something so personal to you broke you into shambles. It was never a fair trade, but your mind couldn't help but to regret ever giving into the advice given to you.

When you first joined the Avengers you were given an off planet mission. Thor was not one to go on missions Earth-side often, unless it was the end of times level, but Fury did offer him agents when necessary. Your powers were crucial to Thor, so you found yourself on a planet where fire was the peoples kryptonite.

With one flash of a flame you were able to help him without much of a fight. Their leader knew Thor wouldn't hesitate to let you bring ruin, so they gave into the God who towered over them.

He'd taken you back to Earth, and for your "valiant effort" he took you to a diner, where even though you'd done hardly anything, you were rubbing at your lower back and wincing.

"Lady Y/N, why don't you get your boobs cut into smaller ones?" He'd said, you immediately went to cast an offended glare at the pig of a man, but then you saw into his eyes, and they held an innocence that told you he was only offering a genuine suggestion. "My ex, Jane, has a friend—Darcy. She used to talk our ear off about how reducing hers was the best choice she'd ever made. Her back problems vanished, and her clothes fit more smoothly."

His suggestion seemed fruitless at first, but after a mission a couple weeks later, where you felt the pain increased by your exertions you took it seriously and scheduled a consultation.

Robin said no, but it was never direct. They just teased you, and therefore you believed it to be a tasteless joke. They never said anything to you after, but you could see the way they no longer lit up at the sight of your bareness. It didn't change your sex life though, at least not in the rate at which it happened. Only the way.

Still, you remained naive up until the moment their truth was spewed out like venom. Sinking into you, and holding you captive in your mind.

They had no right to make you feel insecure, it was your choice, and it was meant to be joyous. You made it with your own body in mind, to better your life, and you were ecstatic. It was one of the first ones you'd ever been able to make of your own volition and they tainted it.

For the first month you refused to leave your room unless it was to go on a mission, or to sneak off to the treehouse. Everyone gave you the space, even when the couple didn't want to.

Wanda kept you fed with meals outside your door, and Natasha kept you safe by going on the missions you were still expected to go on. They hovered, but never in a way that was suffocating, only in a way that said they were there and cared. Which eventually paid off because when you did finally show up to movie night you were quick to settle down with them.

It was your first big step towards healing.

Months flew by, and with time you found the ache in your chest was never for Robin, but instead for companionship in general. You wanted a love like Wanda and Natasha's, and after a drunk kiss shared between the three of you it was made clear you just wanted them.

It was a no brainer really, when you woke up with your head on straight you felt the same. They'd breathed out a sigh of relief when you simply smiled at them and snuggled even further into the warmth of their bodies instead of running out of their room screaming.

That night they took you on a date, and swept you off your feet in the most romantic of ways. Literally, Natasha scooped you up, and kissed you beneath the light of the moon, and Wanda danced with you in a field as the stars twinkled.

You felt free; they were the breath of clarity you'd always been searching for, you'd just only ever delved into a sea full of wrong people.

Being with them made you realize that you were never the problem. They loved you so incredibly well, reminded you how beautiful you were everyday, even when you looked like a troll as your arose from your slumber or a hot mess after a grueling mission. It was never a lie, your beauty was more than skin deep.

Still, even with their reassurances, you'd been terrified to give yourself over completely. You knew they'd never treat you like previous partners had, but still, in the back of your mind you were left with the fleeting insecurities.

Every time something would be close to initiated you'd find yourself blocked. Heavy petting and sloppy make outs would progress with ease, then a hand would skim over your heated skin beneath your blouse and you'd bolt up, and excuse yourself. They never questioned you, they gave you your space, and made sure the vibe in the room was tranquil when you would come back in with a guilty expression.

Wanda would cradle your head to her chest, and Natasha would kiss your cheek as if they weren't hot and bothered only an hour prior.

They've been patient, which is only fair, but you also knew that they were sexually driven women. You've shared a wall with them for long enough to know that, but ever since you'd joined their arrangement they've been celibate.

Neither seemed impatient with your pace, they offered you abundant warmth, and stability. It was you that was growing frazzled with need, the pit in your stomach was taut, and after making out with Natasha, with your body pressed against a wall this morning you'd decided that there wasn't any need to wait.

That's why you're in their room, the one that had basically become yours, with only silk a robe layered around your bareness. Against the insecurities of their unknown reactions, you were ready to take a chance on them, and you had faith that they'd love you regardless of the perceivable imperfections. Plus, the source of your greatest insecurities lessened with time.

The once dark, and angry surgical scars had actually faded some, they were still prominent, but nowhere near as noticeable as they were a year prior when you were shamed. On top of that, you'd decided to take a cosmetic approach to distract yourself, and others from the marks.

You took a steadying breath, and shook off the building anxieties. You chose to focus on the potential for a night of bliss. Natasha and Wanda were downstairs finishing mission reports, completely unaware that they were about to stumble upon you. That element of surprise actually made you even more aroused.

It was embarrassing really, the way your slick dripped down your thighs, and cascaded over the slope of your knees as you kneeled on the bed in wait. You'd texted them a simple 'come to your room please,' and smiled when you heard the familiar steps of Nat's combat boots and Wanda's heels in only a minutes time.

"Detka?" Natasha called out, but it was Wanda who first walked into the room, and who felt the colliding of her lovers body as she stilled at the sight of you on their bed. The energy was shifted from inquisitive to sinfully so as the women let their eyes trail over your form.

"What is this?" Wanda's accent was thick, her flushed cheeks and darkened eyes giving way to the carnal second nature of your loving witch. Natasha pushed Wanda forward, hand reaching behind her to shut and lock the door with ease as she spoke huskily, "Yeah, we're not complaining love, but we're seeking clarity."

Without a word you reached out your hands and each of them took one into their own. Natasha linked her fingers with yours, and Wanda held eye contact with you as she brought yours to her lips to kiss your knuckles.

"I'm ready," you spoke with absolute certainty, and allowed them to pull you from the bed. Wanda spun you so that you were facing her, and offered you a gentle, yet questioning smile. Natasha moved her hands to your hips so she could pull your body flush to hers, her lips pressed beneath your ear, hot breath tickled your skin as she whispered: "Are you sure?"

"There's no rush," Wanda added, and you leaned forward to kiss her, it was soft, and she melted into the affection. Then you boldly laid her hand onto the tie of your robe. "I think we have all waited long enough, so take it off."

Both of them pulled away from you, and though you enjoyed the redheads warmth from behind, you found her eagerness to see you in all your naked glory a bit more comforting. Wanda swirled her hand in the air, causing the knot to untwist, and the robe to fall. "Woah."

You chuckled nervously, "Woah? Is that good?"

Wanda smiled as she bit her lip, and beckoned you closer with the crook of her finger, you quickly obliged, settling into her open arms. A sigh left your lips as Natasha once again stood behind you, and pressed you into the witch.

Neither of them answered you with words, but instead you found yourself with your head thrown back as they lavished your body with the most sinful of attention. Nimble hands groped you all over, and brought you to moan as their lips worked you over in tandem.

Natasha and Wanda were honestly floored by the initial sight of you. Their eyes had nearly bulged out of their heads when seeing the way your thighs had glistened for them—they knew without need for vocal confirmation that they get you all worked up. They see the way your thighs harshly clench, and in this moment they could smell you from a few feet away and they were salivating at the idea of being able to finally taste you after all these years in wait.

Then their eyes slowly rose higher, admiring every perfect curve of your body that they'd only had the luxury of seeing beneath clothes. Eventually seas of green reached the holy grail as they froze on your chest, your nipples were pert, and breasts were perfectly rounded.

Sparks of jealousy ignited in their hearts at the realization that someone else was near your body within the last year upon gazing at your fresh tattoo. Just between your breasts sat a gorgeous piece of artwork, it was an intricate array of lines that all came together to create the image of a sturdy castle. It took over the entirety of your upper abdomen, and the tip of the extravagant looking building laid within the valley of your breasts. It was moving.

You'd gotten it to represent the overall concept of conquering fears, to symbolize that no one else could dictate the making of your intricate story, it was yours to write; you were queen.

They also noticed your scars, but it wasn't even a thing they focused in on, neither woman cared about something so inconsequential.

Why would they when they had your body at their disposal to cherish until the sun set?

You were perfect, and they were desperate to have and show you that, to wipe away the insecurities they know you've felt for months.

After a particularly loud moan that Natasha pulled by groping your ass, Wanda had bit down into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Her fingers drummed against your sides as she steadied her skipping heart, then she pulled her face from the side of your neck as she had caught a whiff of your increased arousal. The need to be between your thighs was no longer something she could ignore, and with how you squirmed about in their hold she knew that the overall need was reciprocated.

"You're fucking breathtaking Y/N," she held onto your hips with a tight grip as she felt her body dizzying from her need for more of you. "I'm so—, please detka, tell me this is all okay, let me know when I can drop to my knees and worship you like the queen that you are."

You gulped when looking into her eyes to find only remnants of green remained. The lust was all consuming for the lot of you, you were all but certain Natasha's eyes were just as wild.

"Come on sweet girl," Natasha rasped against the shell of your ear as her hands slid around to grope your breasts from behind, you gasped and nearly broke down as her thumbs rolled over your nipples. It'd been so long since you felt the hands of another on your body, but more specifically your chest and you were overwhelmed with settling grief and pleasure.

"Let us take care of you like you deserve," she continued with an urgency in her tone that sounded close to a whine, it was as if she was in pain being made to wait, "Fuck, you're just so perfect Y/N, sat here patiently waiting for us."

Wanda was already on her knees when your eyes had finally fluttered back open, you locked gazes with her, and offered her a reassuring smile that made her heart flutter wildly, and once your head nodded she surged forward.

Normally they'd ask you to speak, but there was no doubt with the urgency of your nod.

Natasha held your body firmly in place by your hips as the other woman flicked her tongue through your folds. It excited her to no end when you tried to squirm away, but found yourself incapable of doing so with her bruising hold. You were gripping onto her neck with your arm thrown back for stability while your other hand fell and twisted into fiery locks of auburn so that you could keep them close.

Wanda hummed against your clit just as one of Natasha's hands slipped downwards from your hip, and just as her fingers slid inside of your cunt she was prepared with her plump lips on yours to catch your throat scratching moans. With only a few strokes and a harsh suckling of your swollen bundle of nerves you fell apart.

The redheads arm wrapped around your waist as your body tried to slump forward, because it'd been so long since you felt this intense of a release, and Wanda didn't even stop to breathe. It was no wonder your knees buckled as her tongue continued to lap at your center, and her fingers harshly dug into your quivering thighs.

Natasha aided her in her attempt to pull more from you before ever making it to the bed as her fingers buried themselves back inside of you and moved with a vigorous effort to do so. It was a pleasure you'd never felt before, her long fingers reached into your greatest depths, making your stomach burn as you were built back up, and tears collected in the divots of your neck as you cried from the pleasure.

"I-I'm gonna cum," you got out before an ear piercing moan left your throat, "O-oh shit!" You could feel the coil tethering with each harsh thrust, and it finally unraveled as the redhead curled her fingers and pressed them into your g-spot. "I, oh fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Your slick came gushing out, and soaking Wanda's face while your walls pulled your other lovers fingers in even deeper and held onto them for dear life as they continued to spasm uncontrollably from the pleasure. It took a few minutes for your cunt to relinquish its hold, and as soon as she slid her fingers from you Wanda was there to replace them.

"What a good girl," Natasha purred against the skin of your neck. "I bet you taste so sweet, hm. I mean look at Wanda, she's already addicted and you're just letting her devour your pussy."

Wanda grinned against your thigh after she finally pulled away from your sensitive walls, and if the look she sent her lover wasn't enough the confirmation she got when she sucked your slick from her fingers was enough to prove it.

"A real fucking delicacy she is," Wanda mused, accent thick with her Sokovian roots as she felt and stored the entirety of her lust in her chest. "Those mission reports will be defaulting."

Natasha chuckled, "Oh, yes they will..."

Wanda stood to her feet, and kissed Natasha over your shoulder while you came back down. Their tongues danced harmoniously, and you felt the warmth blossom in your core again at the sounds of their altered salivas swapping.

Fortunately for you they handled your tired body once they were satisfied with parting. Their main focus was on taking care of you, and making love to you until you couldn't take it anymore, they wanted to hear you plead with them to stop, then bring you over the edge a final time just to see you writhe all over again.

When your mind caught up to your body you could hear the choked up moans that left you as Wanda slid your cunt against Natasha's bare thigh. Her nipples brushed against your back and you internally screamed at the feel of them bare against you. Your eyes were screwed shut, but you willed them open so you could see them, even if you were restricted in many ways.

The swell of Natasha's breasts was enough to make your body tingle with excitement and for your thighs to try to clamp shut, but the tight grip of Wanda's hands, and obstacle of Nat's leg kept you spread wide open, and in bliss.

The redhead smirked, "Like what you see?" You smiled bashfully, and stuttered out a quiet yes that made the women share a humored glance. "Feel free to suck on them then detka." The permission granted and way that she hotly winked at you had your walls clenching around nothing, and at the feel of your cunt pulsing she knowingly flexed her thigh, and as Wanda harshly pressed you into the muscle you fell into Natasha's shoulder with rushed pants to indicate what the slick on her thigh already did.

You came, again, and fuck were you feeling it.

Never in your life had a partner made you cum more than twice, you'd believed it to be an impossibility at this point, so the fact that they'd even managed a third time was actually insane to you. Your teeth had sunk into the skin of the redheads supple breast, and latched on tight, for a brief bout of comfort it seemed as your lower half went momentarily numb. It was a foreign sensation, the way your vision had spotted over, and your muscles ached.

Your body was obviously spent, you were sure to fall over soon, but they weren't even done with you. Something you realized after the witch lifted you up, then spun you around. They left you over Natasha's lap, with you on your knees, keeping your legs spread wide over Natasha's. The sight of a strap made your eyes widen just as much, and Wanda smiled wide.

"You like it detka?" You visibly gulped, but nonetheless nodded along rather dumbly. "It's enchanted, so when I fuck it into your pretty little cunt, Natty will feel it too, and I will get to feel as you clench around me with every inch I slip inside you. Oh my, I can't fucking wait..."

Wanda's words were a warning you didn't read, so when the tip pressed inside you seconds later you weren't prepared, but your pussy was. It swallowed the thick silicone up, and left you with your mouth agape as it stretched you out.

Natasha panted wildly against your neck as she felt the phantom strokes of the enchanted strap as it slid in and out of your slicked up walls. That alone nearly sent you spiraling over into another climax, but you managed to keep it at bay for a bit longer to ensure both woman got to fall over with you. "I'm so close, please..."

"Just a few more minutes detka," Wanda grunted as her hips continued their relentless pace in the race to bring you all over the edge. "I'm close too, I want to cum with you love."

Natasha squeaked, "Me too," as her entire body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve ending she had was on high alert as she felt every single pleasurable pressure that you did with Wanda rutting into you like a woman gone mad. The pleasure melded into pain from time to time for you, but it faded out fast enough to derive an even deeper, appreciative overall pleasure.

It was driving her wild, finally having you in the way they'd always dreamed of. Spread out, and dumbed down. It had her teetering, and she knew with absolute certainty she'd fall soon, especially when you or Natasha would moan right in tandem with her soft grunts.

As the witches pace steadily increased it became near impossible for any of you to bare. With every thrust into your g-spot you'd flutter around the silicone, which would cause a firm sensation to be felt against Wanda's very own.

Natasha's upper body gave out, causing her to fall back into a low pile of pillows, and with her your body followed. Wanda didn't take this new vantage point for granted either, her eyes first focused on the way your tits bounced with every single thrust, and then they moved on to gawking at your glistening, puffy cunt that took her thick, veiny strap without any resistance.

"Fuck, look at this Nat," she groaned, then in an instance both yours and Natasha's minds were overtaken by the live image of your cunt being rutted into without any reprieve in sight. Natasha cried out against your cheek, her thighs trembled beneath your ass, and even in your blissed out state you managed to smile.

Wanda found your triumphant smile adorable, you knew just what you were doing to them, it was a cocky, yet sweet little expression. You soon whimpered as she lifted your thighs up into Natasha's hands so that she could fuck into you even deeper. Her plans to wipe the smile off your face a success as she worked to remind you that they were the ones in charge.

Her body lurched forward so that she could lavish your upper body with attention, her tongue swirled around your nipples, making you gasp out at the unexpected touch. Then she began to press shaky kisses all over the ridged skin around the curve of your breasts as she grew overwhelmed by the way that the harness pressed firmly into her clit with each thrust.

Wanda wanted to see you coming undone, so she stretched her torso and brought her face to hover over yours as she kept her hips pace up. While she stared into your eyes she noted the way your pupils contracted ever so slightly, there was a haze that heavily overlayed them, and she felt her chest swell with pride at the effect their ministrations were having on you.

Then she frowned as they soon shut. "Open your eyes pretty girl," she coaxed, her lips pressed to yours briefly, and she beamed when you listened to her gentle command. "Keep them open for us, we wanna see you let go."

Natasha softly cursed in Russian from beneath you, her hot air coasting over your skin, and you imagined Wanda was sharing in the sight.

"I need," you choked on your words as she applied a firm pressure to your engorged clit, the touch was too much and everything all at once. "Please, let me cum, I can't take it anymore... I need to..." You words cut off once again as she had slammed her lips to yours, and whispered, "Cum with us detka, let go..."

You came with a scream of their names in between slurred curse words, and Natasha followed suit within seconds, screaming in line with your own before she bit into your shoulder to suppress her insanely loud noises of bliss.

It was a glorious sight for the witch, Natasha's skin was flushed and her eyes were drooped, and when she focused back in on you she about died at the alluring sight that followed along with you cumming. Her hips came to an abrupt stop as she was blinded by her own orgasm, holding eye contact with you as you came down was rather dizzying. Like an intimate fireworks show on display for just her with the way the swirls of lust exploded within your irises.

Wanda’s body collapsed atop yours, she softly kissed the skin of your neck, and smiled when your arms lazily wrapped around her body. The three of you remained like that for awhile, breathing out of sync on the come down, and exchanging the sweetest of touches up until Natasha ruined it with a gravely whine, “I can’t feel anymore, I’m paralyzed beneath you two.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, then you squealed as she did the same with your bodies. “Fine, but don’t complain about missing our warmth.”

“Ah yes, because that’s what I’m getting,” she teased further, “You’re just so warm Wands.”

“Careful now, or I’ll tell Fury to send you off.”

Natasha chuckled, then looked over to see your face was nuzzled into the witches chest, and the other was smiling like an idiot. Her heart was near to bursting at the seams with just how much love she harbored for the both of you.

“Share the detka,” Natasha whined, no longer content with being alone after sixty seconds. Wanda smirked, then taunted her, “I warned you, yet you still chose your silly freedom.”

“I didn’t want to lose my limbs!”

You giggled tiredly against Wanda’s bare chest, and she smiled widely at Natasha who was already wearing an adoring smile of her own.

“How are you feeling love?” Wanda whispered, and with the help of Nat she’d rolled you onto your back. For a moment you’d gathered the post sex confidence to speak, hut then piercing orbs of emerald stared down expectantly and the pure deepness of the green in them gave the allusion as if she was staring into your soul.

"I-I," you paused, taking in a massive inhale to steady your rapidly beating heart. The after effects of your multiple orgasms not helping your mind to process either. Natasha's cocky smirk hovering over your face wasn't helping, but Wanda's nails scratching over your side was. "What's on your mind there pretty girl?"

"Thank you."

Natasha frowned, and your brows turned down at the sight of her disappointed expression.

"Why are you thanking us?" Wanda asked the question on both of their minds. Suddenly you felt the weight of your former insecurities crashing back down on you, and for the first time since it happened you decided to be more open with them. "For being patient with me..."

"Oh sweetheart, that's not worthy of thanks," Wanda negated with a deep sigh. "You deserve nothing less than the bare minimum, and that is exactly what respecting your autonomy is."

You felt the warmth swarming around in your stomach, as if a case of butterflies had been released within you. The ability to be honest with them only furthered as you saw the loving look in their eyes that screamed of safety.

"And for," you paused momentarily, pouting your lips as you got your thoughts together. "For not making me feel bad for the ugly scars beneath my chest. Robin, they, um —..."

Neither women needed further explanation, it made both of them irate to think that the pain you felt last year, that nearly cost them you for good, was over something so grotesque.

"I'll kill them," Natasha growled, and you were not foolish enough to leave that unchecked. "Natty, I think that it's time we all move on. Robin is a thing of the past, and I'd like to keep them that way. I much prefer our future."

Our future rang out in all of your heads, and you smiled reassuringly up at them in truth.

Natasha settled on her side beside you, her arm crooked to hold her head up, and she reached out to grab your hand. She pulled it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingertips before she was taking it lower. You quirked a brow, thinking this was a fast turn around into a round two, but then she settled your hand on her lower abdomen. You frowned at the feel of her mostly smooth skin being tarnished by the familiar ridges. Hers were a bit more faded, but the raise of the skin never planned to go away.

“We all have scars detka,” she spoke with a great sadness in her tone, but her smile reflected the hope that lived on inside her chest. “Some of ours we wear outside,” as she paused, Wanda turned your face to hers, and you held intimate eye contact as Nat finished, “Some of ours live in our souls, and for the three of us we’ve got a mix of both. They don’t define us detka, they’re just a piece of a story.”

“You’re beautiful now, just as you were then,” Wanda carried on the topic of discussion. She took a momentary reprieve so she could kiss your lips while her thumbs wiped away at the once budding tears that had began to fall. “We always saw you Y/N, when you were in that cell we just knew you were special, and every day since you’ve gotten out you’ve proven us right.”

“I love you guys so much,” you cried, and rolled into Natasha’s chest to hide your face. “We love you so much more Y/N,” Wanda challenged, and in a gentle sway she maneuvered herself behind you, and wrapped you up in her love. Natasha mirrored her exact sentiments with a contrast in approach as she pecked your tear stained cheeks, and ran a comforting hand up and down your side. “Now rest up angel..”

Wanda chuckled tiredly into her pillow then kissed your neck “We’re far from done detka…”

——

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mysterycitrus · 4 months

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Stephanie Brown headcanons please?

Headcanon A: realistic

on the way home, mr freeze floods and then freezes the subway, and they're stuck for almost three hours until huntress saws the doors open. there's a woman there, rebecca, whose water breaks during hour one and goes into labour lying on an unfolded picnic blanket and another passenger's flannel shirt. it's a little girl. steph cuts the cord with sewing scissors lent by the old lady doing crotchet by the window. steph doesn't have her kit, so there's not much she can do aside from being kind until the paramedics get through the ice. she coos, and the baby wriggles delightedly in this cold new world she's emerged into. it only hurts a little to hand her back.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

she's taller than tim. he doesn't get mad about it, but he complains when she wears wedges, or when the ledge she's crouched on is slightly higher than his. it makes my neck hurt, he tells her, it's bad enough that damian probably has bruce's height.

to make him feel better, she buys him an bekvam stepstool and ships it to his apartment in california. he ignores her calls for a week.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

when she thinks of death, she doesn't picture sionis, or her father. instead, she sees the cowl. she sees its blank eyes staring down at her in that hospital bed, her eye swollen closed and her throat thick and tight. she feels the glove holding her hand, and feeling so, so cold. she remembers wanting to be warm more than anything. she remembers that even in her final moments, he still didn't trust her enough to show himself. she remembers being alone. she remembers trying her best.

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

it's nonchalant, on a school night where damian complains about gotham academy for forty-five straight minutes before being distracted by national geographic, when she and dick are sitting on the floor of the penthouse, their backs against the couch when dick says: it's funny.

what is? she asks. she still doesn't quite know how to act around him, even with tim gone. he seems untouchable, almost otherworldly. some impossible standard to fail at, rather than a living person.

dick smiles. the cave has a one hundred percent robin saturation rate.

her heart does that little ba-bump, ba-bump. she thinks of her deathbed, and how even bruce couldn't take that away from her. somehow, now, it feels like so much more. she says: i was only robin for a little while.

so's damian, dick replies. what, you think it's something that ever really leaves you?

#stephersssss #stephanie brown #batgirl #batfam #dick grayson #dc comics #the ask and the answer #ask game #damian wayne

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im-robins-bitch · 6 months

Text

A Somewhat SFW Alphabet with Robin Buckley

18+ only please.

A - Activities (what does she like to do with you?)

Anything. Robin Buckley will do anything with you and have the time of her life.

She does have a special place in her heart for fall/winter activities. You’ll go to the pumpkin patch to pick out the perfect pumpkins and then carve them to put on the porch.

I honestly think you would be the kind of couple where you compete against each other to make the best gingerbread house and it gets more and more out of hand each year until the store-bought kits aren’t enough anymore and you’re baking gingerbread at home and have pre-planned floor plans. There may be a ceasefire one year where you both collaborate to make your dream home out of gingerbread.

She will do anything you want, but come the colder months, she already has your calendar marked up with must-do activities.

B - Beauty ( What does she love most about herself?)

Besides her brain (which she sometimes thinks works against her) Robin thinks one of her best features is her eyes. Since dating you she’s come to think of her fingers as the second best.

You love, love, love her freckles. You like to count them and kiss them until she’s giggling and pushing you away. Her hands are top-tier as well, she always has them on you. If she’s trying to learn the fingering for a new song on trumpet you can bet your ass she’s pressing them down on your thigh to get some practice in.

C - Comfort (How does she comfort you, what kind of comfort does she seek from you?)

When Robin is overwhelmed, the only thing she wants is to feel you lying on top of her. She likes feeling your weight press down on her. She’ll curl her fingers around your wrist so she can feel your pulse. If it’s really bad you’ll lay in silence until she’s asleep, snoring in your ear. If it’s just a minor upset, you’ll encourage her to talk about what’s bothering her and play some bowie softly in the background.

If you’re feeling down she will do anything you need, anything you ask.

She’ll hold you all night, stroking your back and kissing your head. She’ll try her best to be quiet, but she’ll usually start talking by accident and that is usually what ends up working the best. You’re also a big believer in naked cuddling, Robin’s boobs are the best stress reliever.

“You know cats have been known to stroke their owners because they think it will make them feel better” Robin has been staring unabashedly at your hands the entire time you’ve been doing your night-time routine.

“Really?”

“According to a study, it also promotes bonding- Wh- why are you taking your shirt off?”

“I’m gonna come lie on you, c’mon Buckley get your shirt off we have a bond to improve”

D - Date (What is Robin’s favourite kind of date)

Her favourite special dates are the days when you’ll go drive over to Indianapolis and spend the whole day there.

Sometimes you’ll have tickets to a show, you’re favourite being Rocky Horror Picture Show, other times you just see where the day takes you. There's a family dinner that you go to every trip and a bar hidden down an alleyway that makes the best strawberry mojitos you’ve ever tasted. There's a thrift store you love, it always has something perfect for Robin and you always pull things out for each other and have a fashion show when you get back home.

Otherwise, she likes going to the drive-in. It took some getting used to, she once insisted going to The Hawk was the only way to truly enjoy a movie, until she realised that at the drive-in she was free to talk all she wanted.

E - Everything (You are ….)

You are my dearest secret.

F - Feelings (When did she know she was in love)

You were at a party, just a small get-together at Steve’s house with your friends.

You’re stood with Robin, as you usually are, holding tightly onto her hand as she rambled about the movie you went to at the weekend to you and the group of friends surrounding you.

“It was such a bad twist because it’s like they just pulled rules out their ass so we wouldn’t see it coming, like vampires just don’t-”

“I thought it was great, the soundtrack was fucking metal” Eddie interrupts, not letting Robin finish her sentence as he squeezed Steve further into his side, “What did you think Nance?”

Robin frows, eyebrows wrinkling in annoyance at being talked over. The conversation seemingly continues without her as every time she tries to butt back in someone talks over her.

You squeeze her hand and it’s then she remembers you’re there because you had been even quieter than she was rendered. She turns to you, finding you pressing a kiss to her neck and then whispering into her ear, “Keep going,” You whisper, breath hitting her neck and making her hair stand on edge, “I’m listening,”

G - Guilty Pleasure

Robin loves it when you give her hand massages.

Whether it's a full-on massage with lotions and nail oil or just the pressure of your thumb rubbing back and forth when you holding hands, she adores it. It relaxes her like nothing else and eases all the tension from her fingers.

She used to be self-conscious of how rough her hands were from work and the trumpet. They weren't the soft hands of all the girls in the romance books. You only saw it as an excuse to love on her even more. You’ll kiss all of her hard-earned calluses and insist she use your hand cream instead of her own because it’s better. It also makes her smell like you.

H - Honesty (What secrets does she hide from you)

Robin is awful at hiding things from you, she’s learnt the hard way not to lie to your face because you catch it immediately. She tends to lie by omission instead.

She’s a talker though and she’s accidentally ruined many birthday gifts because she’s gotten so caught up in her stories that she’s told you exactly what she bought without thinking. She doesn’t mean to, but when you ask her about her day you always insist on her telling you everything and it just slips out.

When she does lie it’s never anything cruel, just small things. At the start of your relationship, she kept quiet about a lot of your questionable fashionable choices, smiling and nodding when you would show her the ugliest pair of shoes she’d ever seen with a beaming smile. Now she’s like Michael Kors on Project Runway, she will not hold back.

After you had found out she had kept the whole, international monsters thing from you in your final year of high school you had been livid that she had gone through it all alone. When it happened again you joined her without question and the two of you very rarely kept anything from each other again.

I - Injury (how would they react if you got hurt)

She’s a huge worrier, a paper cut has her brain whirling. She’ll insist that you disinfect it because she saw something about a boy who got a paper cut and then lost his finger. Tries out home remedies if you have any aches and pains, rubbing certain oils into your aching body.

Surprisingly she’s the type to believe that rubbing tiger balm on your feet and leaving it overnight will alleviate a cold.

If she ever hurts herself you kiss her injury better. Smooching her bruises every night until they go away.

J - Jealousy (who gets more jealous, what are they like when jealous)

At the start of your relationship, she got jealous quite often, especially because you had to hide that you were together. She becomes a lot more withdrawn when she gets seriously jealous about something, so you can always tell because she barely speaks to you. She’s quick to break though, especially when you start pestering her about it with kisses.

As she becomes more secure in the relationship she rarely gets jealous anymore. Then the shoe is on the other foot because now she isn’t getting jealous, she notices just how often you do. You’re just way better at hiding it than she was. You act the opposite of Robin, rubbing your closeness in the face of whoever it is that you’re jealous of.

Sometimes it’s giving Robin back the chapstick you borrowed when a customer is flirting with her. If any boys at parties approach her you look them up and down with a death stare until they back down. Occasionally you even get jealous of Steve, sitting yourself on her lap and wrapping yourself around her like a cobra. Robin can’t deny how good it feels to have her two favourite people both wanting her company.

K - Kiss (Their favourite kind of kisses)

Robin loves all your kisses, just the fact that she gets to kiss you sometimes blows her mind. At first, she was really shy about it and didn’t know how to ask for it, her cheeks would be stained pink in embarrassment because she would be trying not to be obvious about it. It was always very obvious.

Her favourite kind of kisses are of an overzealous kind. When you lick your lips beforehand so you can plant a big fat one on her cheek. Even better if you have lip gloss on and she can feel the sticky residue afterwards. You always make a big smoochy noise as well and follow it with a million more little pecks.

She likes it when you’ve had a long day and stomp into her arms, face tucked into her neck and she kisses the top of your head. She can feel the difference, your tense posture from before the kiss, to how you melt into her a little more afterwards. It’s like her kiss washed away the stress from the day. Her little way of saying ‘I love you’ and ‘I’ve got you, it’s ok’. You get the message every time.

L - Love (Who said it first)

Look, Robin ‘motormouth’ Buckley told you at the worst time possible. I’m sorry, she just did. As soon as she realised she loved you it was so hard to keep it from you.

The same day when you asked her what she had done for the day she almost responded ‘I realised that I loved you today’. In retrospect, it’s what she wished she had done. She wanted it to be romantic though. Had spent hours at work watching romance films for inspiration.

So when she had accidentally spilt the beans in-between whines when she was been sitting on your face, she was mortified.

M - Marriage

Gay marriage is not legal for a long time, by the time it’s actually on the cards you two will have been together for so long you’d already been calling her your wife for years.

I think maybe four years into your relationship, both of you know that you’re in it for life, and you’d have a little ceremony of your own in your garden. It means so much more than a typical wedding because you get to do your own thing instead of following shitty traditions.

You’d go shopping together to buy engagement rings and matching wedding bands, which you found much more fun than the stress of trying to pick something the other person would like and secretly trying to figure out each other's ring sizes.

Steve will ‘officiate’ the ceremony and not many people will probably be invited to the actual wedding bit, but everyone will be invited to the party afterwards. Eddie's speech would be one of the highlights of the night. Along with the tally chart keeping count every time Steve burst into tears.

When marriage does become legal you would have been ‘married’ so long and your wedding in the backyard would have felt more meaningful so i feel like you would have just gone to the courthouse or something. Your friends would insist on coming though, some of them probably even bringing little flags and getting a picture of you kissing on the steps.

N- No (something that caused an argument)

Robin once thought about getting a parrot, just to teach it how to say dingus, that she would then give to Steve.

Now she just really wanted a bird.

You had to put your foot down, you rented your apartment and both worked too much to give the bird the company it needed. You were willing to compromise, but every pet she picked out was just ridiculous.

Her idea of a compromise was a lizard, but she said you would need to be the one to feed it because she couldn’t deal with the bugs. When you told her if she wanted to get a pet she would have to be the one to feed it, she changed her mind to a snake. Until you both watched a documentary and she realised what that would need to be fed.

You end up with a pair of goldfish named Tangerine and Lady Stardust. With your aloe vera plant named Robert, you think that’s enough responsibility for now. Robin is still checking out books about budgies and cockatiels, just in case.

O - Origin (who developed a crush first, who made the first move)

Robin fell first, but you fell harder.

You most certainly had to be the one to make the first move though because she keeps brushing off your flirting as you being friendly and that it’s ‘just how girls are’

P - PDA

PDA is limited, at least until being gay is more socially acceptable. Around your friends, you like to sit on her lap, kiss her cheek, and hold her hand. I don’t think Robin is likely to be comfortable doing much else in front of her friends, because she’s so easily flustered by you. Behind closed doors though, it’s another story.

Q - Quirk (what’s a quirk of hers)

Robin is a klepto, she will steal all of your stuff, at first accidentally, but then more and more often. You think it’s cute, she only steals little trinkets that you don’t need or lip balms. Sometimes she ‘forgets’ to bring back the jumpers she borrowed or the socks you lend her because her feet always get cold. She acts like she’s already given them back, but then opens the door with them on. A bit of a gaslighter, but she’s our gaslighter. When you move in together and suggest you should just combine your wardrobes she’s in heaven.

R - Rainday (What’s a typical rainy day like)

When you’re still in your twenties you love a typical girly sleepover day. Robin didn’t get a lot of those and even if she isn’t the girliest of girls, she still enjoys them.

You’ll do each other's makeup and practise new hairstyles, following tutorials in magazines. Her highlight is painting each other's nails, she likes holding your hands and how concentrated you get trying to make her look perfect.

Sometimes Nancy, Max and El will join you and you’ll all eat snacks and gossip. Offering Max and El dating advice, reading those awful teen magazines and taking all the quizzes. It’s just a fun time all around.

S - Sad (What would make her sad and how does her s/o help)

Robin often feels like an outcast and that her brain just doesn’t shut up. She doesn’t feel like she fits in with everyone else and that she’s just a bit too weird. She feels like everyone else has an instruction manual on how to be normal and hers is missing.

Becoming friends with Steve helps. Finding out she isn’t the only girl who likes girls in Hawkins helps. When you don’t lessen her feelings, but instead just tell her that you like her for exactly who she is, weird or not, that makes her feel better. When you offer to reject society with her and go live in the Alps she perks up. She finds the biggest comfort in the weight of you resting against her and the reassurance that she’s found her people now and that they all love her because of her Robinisms not despite them.

T - Talking (What do they like to talk about)

Everything. This girl does not stop talking. She can talk about anything for an impressive amount of time. She thinks it’s annoying, you think it’s a talent.

U - Understanding (How understanding are they of their partner's needs)

Robin is extremely understanding when it comes to boundaries and will actively encourage you to tell her if things make you uncomfortable. You don’t like the way the candy at Family Video sticks to your teeth? She swaps out the candy.

You don’t like loud noises at parties and like to wear earplugs? She carries a spare pair in her bag.

Her pyjama top is too scratchy against your skin? She’s throwing it off and letting you rest skin-to-skin instead.

If you don’t like to wear socks to bed she will put up with your icicle feet leeching heat from her own. She gets her own back with her cold hands when she comes back from work.

V - Vanity (How much does she care about her looks)

Robin has perfected the art of looking casually cool. She even looked good in her Scoops uniform, which should have been impossible. She still doesn’t believe that you used to drool over her in that outfit. She isn’t exactly a perfectionist when it comes to how she looks, but she does want to look nice.

W - Wildcard (Random headcanon)

I said earlier she loves fall and winter activities. I think she would collect vintage Christmas decorations, the weirder the better. It gets worse and worse as you get older until you have multiple boxes of super old Christmas decorations.

She also loves learning about traditions from different religions and places. If you celebrate something else she’s going to be all ears about what it entails and want to celebrate it with you. She’ll even try to find some vintage decorations for your holiday too.

X - X-ray (relationship headcanon)

If you’re having a petty argument or trying to convince her to do something, you like to flash her your tits. It works pretty much every time and was your secret weapon. Then she started to do it to you and you’ve been losing every argument since.

Y - Yearning (How much does she miss you)

So much! You two talk for hours every day. You’re the only person who encourages her to speak more when she rambles on a tangent and you like to have catch-ups where she tells you everything about her day. You’re also each other's safe space, you can be completely yourselves around each other and even if you’re not doing something together you like just being in the same room.

If you’re away for more than a day, when you come back she will have written down things she wanted to tell you about but didn’t want to forget. Not before she listens to you tell her everything about your time away, whether it’s an irritated rant or a gleeful story about how much fun you had.

When texting becomes an option, Robin’s phone bill grows astronomical.

Z - zzz (How do they sleep)

You on top of her, if it’s just your thigh over her own or your arm across her waist, she will take it. She needs to feel your weight on her like she needs to breathe. You like to sleep without a shirt on and you like it when she does the same, even in winter. Only on the coldest nights do you relent.

She likes to shove her hand into your underwear, it began one winter to keep them warm and now she can’t sleep without it. She also wears thick socks to bed, she’s one of the few people who’ll get wool socks for Christmas and be happy about it.

Masterlist

#robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fluff #robin buckley blurb #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley drabble

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her-power · 4 months

Text

The End of All Things (Part Five - The Finale: e.m. x fem reader)

TRIGGER/SPOILERS & C/W: 18++++ MDNI!! GO AWAY. You will be blocked. Sweet! Semi-dom!Eddie, fluff, talks of grief, talks of death/dying, pregnancy, birth trauma, descriptions of birth, mentions of PPD/PPA, lots of smut, fingering (f receiving), oral (m+f receiving), squirting, spanking, butt play (m receiving), unprotected p +v, crying, swearing.

Part One: Denial Part Two: Anger Part Three: Bargaining Part Four: Depression

Summary: The Finale - this part will take places over many months and go through some years. The full summary of the series is on the 1st part.

Word Count: 17.7k

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

One of the best things about being pregnant is being able to eat a meatball sub in the front seat of your car, looking like a wild animal who had just caught their meal, not caring that the sauce was dripping down your chin.

It was April 1992; you were seven months pregnant, and it was your birthday. You were waiting for Robin to meet you to give you gifts.

You gaze down at your growing belly, gently rubbing your palm over it. The months had gone by fast, and you couldn’t complain. You were having a good pregnancy. Eddie had a hard time keeping his hands off you; you had curves to begin with, but you had gained weight almost everywhere, and it turned him into more of a pig then he already was. Again, you couldn’t complain, the sex you had at the beginning of the second trimester should’ve been made into a porno: your hormones were all over the place, and your sex drive was out of control. You were horny, all the time. You had sex in places you never thought you would, in a public restroom, on the hood of your car in broad daylight, all over the Hideout. And when you say all over, you mean it. The bar, the bar stools, the stage, the pool table, everywhere.

You smile when you think back to those first few months. It seemed so long ago now, but there were so many moments from then that you wish you could go back to and remember to take pictures. But some moments are too special to share with the world.

You had told Eddie you were pregnant the day after you found out; you wanted to tell him the same day, but you chickened out when he had come to your house after work. To say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. Not because you thought he’d have a negative reaction, you knew he wouldn’t, but the realization that your job for the next nine months would be to protect this being inside of you.

Eddie had come home from work; at this point, he had pretty much moved in but would still spend a few nights at Wayne’s. He had come into your room; you were sitting on the bed reading. He kisses the top of your head. “How was your day?” You ask him.

“Pretty good actually.” He smiles, kicking off his converse and peeling off his leather jacket. “Robin had made some special brownies, and I’m pretty sure I’m in a spaceship right now.”

You laugh, and he giggles. He has been into the edibles lately; it seemed to take the edge off a lot more comfortably than the plant itself did. When he had come down from the heroin, it was a little rough to watch. He didn’t experience withdrawals, but he broke down to you that he wanted to chase that feeling again, and he had the urge to go back to that bar and find the man who supplied him the drugs. You had never seen him so scared, and you could see the relief in his eyes when you told him you would support him through it, no matter how long it took.

And it didn’t take long, he was a lot stronger than he thought he was.

He had scooted up on the bed next to you and had laid half his body on your lap. You lean against the headboard, gently rubbing his head, curling your fingers through his hair. His eyes were closed, and a sweet smile was plastered on his lips. “Mmm, is this what being a cat is like?”

“I don’t know, weirdo.” You laugh, and he opens his eyes to look at you. He angles his head to get a better look at you. “What?”

“You look…different.” You raise your eyebrows, feeling a little hurt by the comment and he laughs. “No, dummy, not in a bad way. You look…well, you look radiant.”

“Radiant?” You almost blush, and he nods. “I actually feel like shit so, thank you.” You kiss his forehead, and he lifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“What’s the matter?”

“Just been having stomach issues all day.” Tell him, dummy!

“Can I get you anything?”

You smile, shaking your head, continuing to play with his hair. He closes his eyes again, his head turning in towards your tummy, and sighs.

Open your mouth, try not to puke, and tell him. You might pass out from the fear, but hey, at least you told him!

The words are caught in your throat.

Tell. Him.

“Impregnant.” The words were jumbled, and you know he had no idea what you just said, and you wanted to go run into traffic.

“Were those words?” He asks with a laugh, his eyes still closed.

Tell him!

A sigh escapes you. “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes snap open, and he looks up at you. His big brown eyes are almost wide, and he continues to stare. You try to hide your smile.

“I’m sorry.” He clears his throat. “Am I really stoned, or did I just hear you say that you’re pregnant?”

You smile, nodding. He lifts himself off your lap, looking into your eyes, his eyes dart to your tummy and back into your eyes, his hand goes to his mouth. “Really?”

You nod.

“You’re not lying to me?” His eyes fill with tears and his lips form a smile. You pull the drawer from your nightstand, taking out a ziplock bag that had the test in it, you hand it to him, and he takes it with shaking hands. He gazes at it, and then meets your eyes, he starts to cry, and laughs. “Oh my god!” He wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you towards him, kissing your lips and your cheeks. He pulls away, his hand goes over your tummy.

“There’s a baby in there?”

“Not quite yet, he’s still cooking.” You smile at him, and he continues to rub your stomach.

He meets your eyes and smiles. “He?”

“If I’m doing my math correctly, I’m about seven weeks, it’s too early to tell, but, I just have a feeling.” You stare lovingly at him as his eyes fix on your belly, and he smiles.

“Okay, it’s a he. Let’s not find out until he’s here.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. You hold his face, gazing into his eyes, his fingers gently trace circles on your lower back. “Marry me?” His dimples show before the smile reaches his eyes and he nods, kissing you deeply. You weren’t in a rush to get the ring or get hitched; you just wanted him to know that you loved him so much. The two of you had made love for hours, not even stopping for rest, you wanted to feel like you were the only two people left on Earth.

When you told your father you were pregnant, he was in tears. He kept saying he was gonna kill Eddie for knocking you up, but he couldn’t stop the smile on his face when he said it. That same night, you overhead them talking about a move, but they had stopped talking when they had heard you trip over the lip in the doorway.

The most devastating day for you was November 24th, 1991. Eddie had taken you for ice cream; it was 30 degrees out, but you were craving it. At that point, you were about 12 weeks pregnant. The two of you sat in his van, devouring ice cream outside the ice cream parlor, having a heated discussion about who would have a chance with Winona Ryder.

“I would just have to give her my puppy dog look and she’d instantly be melting.” Eddie had said, shoving a spoonful of rocky road in his mouth.

“No way, dude. She wouldn’t fall for that, she’s too smart. All I would have to do is walk by her, shake my ass a little and she’d dump Johnny’s ass, run away with me, and we’d live happily ever after in a gothic house overlooking the sea.”

Eddie laughs loudly. “Fine, but I get Johnny.”

“Fine, take him.”

You both laugh, continuing to eat spoonfuls of the ice cream when the radio disc jockey interrupts the current song:

Sad day for the music world today; less than twenty-four hours after releasing a statement that he was diagnosed with the HIV/AIDS virus, Freddie Mercury has passed away in his Kensington home. He was only 45. We mourn for him, and mourn with his family, his bandmates and fans. We will continue to update as we learn more, but for now…here’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Man, what a voice, what a talent. Gone too soon. Rest easy, Freddie. We’ll miss you.

The two of you remain still, staring at the radio. Eddie looks over at you, preparing himself in case you decide to jump out of the van and into the cold. You continue staring at the radio, and you’re suddenly no longer hungry. You dump the remainder of your ice cream into the paper bag, roll up the top and drop it at your feet.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie says gently.

You blink, looking at him, and Eddie’s heart splits in two when he stares at the pure heartbreak written all over your face. Queen was everything to you; and they were one of the links that connected you and your mother. “Freddie Mercury is dead.” Your bottom lip trembles and your eyes fill with tears.

“Honey…” He leans towards you, and you inhale deeply, your head falls back against the headrest.

“Hold on, I need a minute. I need a minute to process this.” You close your eyes, doing some deep breathing and your hand immediately goes to your chest. A rumble happens in your chest, and you’re laughing, hard. Eddie stares at you, not sure what to do, not entirely sure if this was an appropriate reaction, but then you started sobbing.

Your voice comes out in heavy sobs, Eddie reaches over to take your hand and you gently push him away. “No, no. I’m fine, I’m fine.” A laugh escapes you again as tears stream down your cheeks. “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know why I’m laughing. I’m heartbroken. I’m fucking devastated.” You meet Eddie’s eyes, and your hand goes to your mouth as another laugh escapes you. “Well, at least…at least my mom will get a free show.”

Eddie puts his mouth over his lips, suppressing his laugh as he stares at you and you laugh harder, pressing your palms to your eyes, and you begin to sob. “Nooooo, I’m so fucking sad right now. What the fuck? I swear I will go full Rambo on those anti-gay Baptists if they say anything about him. I’ll stand outside the abortion clinic while I’m at it too, I’ll shove their picket signs up their asses and laugh all the way to prison. What the fuck, Eddie?! I can’t believe he’s dead.” This time, you are actually full-blown hysterical crying, and you let Eddie hold you as you sob. He knew it wasn’t just Freddie dying and the pregnancy; he knew a lot of it had to do with your mother, and the fact that someone who had an influence on you had died, again.

When you hit the 4 month mark in your pregnancy, it was like your hormones had released a wild animal, and you were in heat. It had started when you were sitting at home; it was midday. You father was in Boston, surprisingly, Tom and Susie had invited him to a little holiday party like the old times and wanted to go visit your mother.

You were alone and had been scanning through the t.v. channels when you stop on the The Big Easy. Right on the part when Ellen Barkin is getting it on with Dennis Quaid. It was airing on live television, so a lot of it was cut it out, but boy, were you invested.

Something awakened in you, something deep, something so fucking animalistic, that every ten minutes you’d look out the window for the van’s headlights. The master of puppets album was playing on a loop on the record player, at full volume, when you finally see the headlights glare through your living room window. Eddie could hear the music as soon as he turned off the ignition, he smiled, knowing very well that one of her neighbors was going to call Hopper. He hops out of the van, stretching his arms, and he shivers. It had gotten cold, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed, under the warm covers and go the fuck to sleep. But, you had other plans.

As soon as Eddie opens the front door, you’re on him like a predator catching its prey. Before he has a chance to react, your tongue is in his mouth and you’re pushing him against the door, slamming it shut. Eddie’s body relaxes and his arms wrap around your waist, hugging you to him. Your hands touch him all over, you roughly yank off his leather jacket, running your hands up his shirt, feeling him shudder. You kiss his neck, collarbone and he groans as your mouth travels down his chest, and you lick the soft skin above his belly button. His head falls back against the door, and he grips at your hair. You’re on your knees, your hands moving fast to undo his belt, pushing his jeans down, his length springs to life and you’re immediately throating him. A throaty moan escapes him as the Master of Puppets album starts over from the beginning, and you cup his balls. Your tongue swirls around his tip, sucking and licking all over his shaft.

“Jesus Christ.” He moans. “What has gotten into…ohhhhh…” He feels your tongue swirl around his taint, and feels you glide your finger slowly into him. “This again…okay…fuuuuuck, baby.”

This reminded him of a daydream he once had of you, before the two of you were together. He was fucking his fist, imagining he was fucking you to this song, and it was one of the best orgasms he had given himself. A loud grunt escapes his lungs as he feels your finger curl inside him, fucking his prostate, spitting and drooling all over his cock. He pulls at your hair, biting his bottom lip, his eyes fluttering close. Your moan vibrates his whole body, and you were so wet you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you.

He was about to cum, but he swallows it back, he needed to fuck you. But first, it was his turn to taste you. He lifts your head up gently by your hair, and you look up at him, your eyes full of so much sexual desire he couldn’t believe you were the same woman.

“Get up.” He tells you with a sideways smirk, and he moans loudly when you push your finger deeper inside him before pulling it out. You stand up and he kisses you hungrily, his hands sliding down your waist, under your oversized night shirt and cups your bare ass, surprised you had no underwear on. He hoists you up, you wrap your legs around his waist and can feel his cock pressed against your folds as he balances with his pants around his ankles and walks with you to the couch. He places you down on the cushions, the music picking up, and he steps out of his jeans, pulling his shirt over his head. You lean your head back against the couch, pulling up your night shirt and spreading your legs apart. He falls to his knees, placing his palms against your inner thighs, massaging his way up to your cunt. You were dripping, and an almost sadistic smile graces his lips.

His mouth is on your clit with a groan, and your back arches as he swirls his tongue around your opening. A gasp escapes you as he sucks hard on your clit, his two fingers immediately sliding inside you. He looks up at you, your eyes meeting, the sight of him devouring your pussy while he finger fucked you turned you feral. He pushes your legs open wider and licking you all the way from your hole to your clit and he groans, pulling his face away, leaning his head against your thigh as he increases the rhythm with his fingers.

“You love fingering my ass, don’t you? Dirty girl.” He says against your thigh, looking up at you with those big brown eyes. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Mmmm…” You moan loudly, your eyes fluttering close, and you pull at his hair. He sits up between your legs, his fingers still pumping in and out of you and he pulls off your shirt, pulling your nipple with his teeth. The sudden sensitivity was enough to send you spiraling, and a sensation of having to pee creeps in your lower belly as his fingers thrust into you. You weren’t sure what that was about, but suddenly, you inhale deeply, and a pornographic scream escapes you, your back arches and you feel warmth coming out of you as soon as he removes his fingers.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters, watching you in awe as your body contorts and a warm liquid squirts out of you and soaks both you and him. He knelt there; his eyes wide with amazement as the most powerful orgasm you have ever felt in life screams out of you. A predator like grin is glued on Eddie’s face, and he moves up your body like a snake, holding your face by your chin. Your mouth is still open, gasping for breath, almost laughing with pure joy. “That was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen come from a woman. What even are you?”

You meet his eyes, your eyes half lidded as you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing his mouth to yours, his plush lips kissing you with such urgency. Your body still trembles, you were sweaty, sticky and you wanted more. He pulls away from you, still gripping your chin, his eyes lower to yours in a dominant stare. “I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?”

You smile large, moaning at his tone. You change your position and bend over the arm of the couch. Eddie crawls up your back, hovering over you, his lips inches from your ear, his curls brushing against your shoulders. “I want to hear you scream my name.” You bite your lip, he pulls back, massaging your ass gently, leaning down to kiss each cheek. The coolness of his rings causes goosebumps to rise on your skin as he runs his hands along your back. He angles your hips up and you feel him rub his cock against your opening, slowly pushing himself inside you. A cry escapes your lips, and his head falls back. He holds your hips, thrusting into you as you grip onto the arm rest.

“Oh, my, god. Fuuuuuuuck.” He groans out, as he slams into you faster, harder. He squeezes your ass, caressing the skin gently, and he spanks you, hard. You cry out, a smile on your lips as the sting sends waves of euphoria into your core. He pulls your ass into him, your collective noises a harmony that reminded you of a pack of wolves. You felt like an animal, wanting to be fucked like this, wanting to feel his cock buried deep into your cunt.

“Right there…” You gasp and he groans against you, his hand travels to your throat and pulls your back to him. He applies a little pressure to your throat, his other hand caressing your breasts and tugging your erect nipples. “Fuck, baby! Ohhh…”

“Louder.” He says with his lips against your ear. A guttural moan escapes him, and his hand travels from your throat to your chin as he fucks you over and over. “Come on baby, I wanna hear you scream.”

“Don’t stop, don’t stop…” Your voice comes out in broken moans, the beautiful feeling in your belly creeping up again.

“LOUDER.” Eddie groans through his teeth, he was getting close, you could feel it.

Your cunt clenches around him, the feeling building and building. Your swollen clit was pulsing, your pussy was throbbing, and you feel a flush rise up your cheeks as your mouth falls open, and you scream out his name. “Ohhh! Eddie! Unghhhh unnnnghhh!”

“Fuck, baby.” He grits his teeth, his movements sloppy and he cries out, his noises deep, sexy. You cum again with him still inside you, his cock twitching as you feel his warm liquid soak you from the inside, mixing with your own cum.

Eddie’s head is resting on your shoulder from behind, his breathing scattered, and he kisses your neck, gently pulling out of you. You turn around on shaking legs, laying yourself on the rug, your arms splayed out beside your head. You felt him spill out of you, and you smile big, pure joy and ecstasy on your face. Eddie looks down at you, his primal instincts getting ready to pounce again as his eyes scan your naked form. You open your eyes and meet his, looking like the cat who caught the canary.

“I’m pretty sure…our alter egos…came out to play just now.” You say, resting your hand on your belly as your breathing continues to slow. “You sir, are gonna make a woman very happy one day.” You close your eyes again, breathing deeply.

“You mean you?” Eddie laughs, sliding his form down to the floor next to you. You nod, not entirely sure which planet you were on. He had fucked you silly, and you were still horny.

You meet his eyes. “Let’s do that again.” His lips are already on yours before you could make your move, and you did it again, and one more time after that until you both were a pile of naked limbs, sprawled out on the living room floor, fast asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was your twenty-week appointment; you felt like your stomach popped overnight. You stand in front of your full-length mirror, turning every which way. The baggy sweatshirt you were wearing did nothing to cover it. You weren’t mad about it; you just realized that time isn’t real, and you were halfway through your pregnancy.

Halfway.

You run your hands along your bump; you were grateful you were still in this blissful state of being. This time last year, you and Eddie were only best friends, playing a heated game of D&D with your friends, and getting high in his trailer listening to music. Sometimes, you still had to pinch yourself because you couldn’t believe this was real. That you and Eddie were real. That this baby was real. You had wondered lately if the two of you would’ve confessed your feelings to each other if your mother hadn’t died. How different would it have been? Would you two still remain friends? Too scared to tell one another how you felt? You really couldn’t imagine.

“Ready?” His beautiful face pops into the doorway, his curls angling his face so perfectly as he smiles that perfect smile at you.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, and he comes over to you, wrapping his arms around your middle. “Whoa…” He turns to stand in front of you, holding the hem of your sweatshirt, looking at you to make sure it was okay before he lifted it up. You nod, smiling and he lifts up your sweatshirt. His smile is large, and his palm gently goes to your round belly. “Wow, that’s a baby.”

“That’s a baby.” You say, looking at him as his eyes are still lowered to your belly, his hand gently moving around in circles. He meets your eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.

“This is actually crazy; you know that right?” Eddie laughs. “What were we doing this time last year? D&D? Getting high and watching The Goonies? Holy shit, man. We’re gonna be parents…mom and dad…that’s…that’s…” You see the ten seconds of panic reach his eyes, and you bite back your laughter when he almost hyperventilates.

“Babe? You good…”

Eddie lets out a loud sigh, begins to pace, looking almost like a caged animal. “I’m good! Good, I’m fine. I’m fine. Just uhhh…” he sits on your bed, pulling at his shirt collar. “Is it hot in here? Why is it hot in here?”

You go towards him, cupping his cheeks, he grips your waist. “Take a deep breath. You’re panicking.”

“No I’m not!” His voice is almost high pitched and he laughs a little manically. “I’m not, I’m not panicking…” He meets your eyes, and you smirk. “Okay yeah. I’m panicking. And it’s not because I don’t want this because I do! I do! I can’t wait to be a dad but…it’s us! Us raising a baby together…the town freak and fucking Morticia Addams, raising a spawn.”

You laugh, looking into his eyes. “Eddie, we’re gonna be okay.”

His eyes are wide, and he nods. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Wanna know what else I know?” You pet his face, run your thumb along his his plush lips and take his ringed hand, placing it on your belly. “I know that you are going to be one hell of a dad to this baby. Our baby. It’s gonna be scary, but I know for certain that you are gonna be amazing.”

Eddie sighs, resting his head against your chest. “I don’t want to be like him.” He sounded so sad, sounded like a little boy.

“You’re not going to be.” You tell him sternly, moving his face to have him look at you, his eyes were filling with tears. “Eddie Munson, you are nothing like him. You’re loving, caring, funny, fucking chaotic as all hell, and you’re more than a man than he ever will be. I promise you that.”

“I love you.” He tells you softly, lifting his hand up to rub your cheek. “So much.”

You kiss his forehead. “I love you, more. Come on, let’s go see our baby.”

He nods and stands up. Kissing you again, and again. He cups your face, resting his forehead against yours. “Let’s go see our baby.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

As the months went on, it was getting harder for you to have an orgasm without feeling your uterus painfully clench. Eddie thought he did something wrong when you came one night and immediately said “ow, ow, ow!” afterwards. You had discovered it was normal, that any sort of stimulation to that area would cause the pain. Your uterus was growing, so many things were happening to your body that you loved, but not being able to orgasm without being in pain put you in such a rage filled state, no one wanted to be around you.

You were almost at the seven-month mark of your pregnancy, and Eddie, bless his soul, tried to do everything in his power to make you smile.

“Can I get you anything to eat?” He asked you sweetly.

“No. I’m fine.” You stare at the television at his trailer, stretching out your leg. The round ligament pain causing you discomfort no matter which way you sat.

“Okaaaay.” He runs a hand through his hair, sitting on the couch, his leg bopping nervously. “I’m gonna go to the Hideout to see Steve and Robin, Dustin is in town. I haven’t told him about the baby yet.”

“Oh, so what am I invisible? I can’t go with you?” You adored Dustin, you didn’t care if he went out partying with them or had a night out, but everything was making you mad.

“Nope. Definitely not invisible.” Eddie says with sarcasm. “Baby, I don’t have to go.”

“No, go, I’m not keeping you chained here.” You scoff. “I’m not about to be made into some psycho pregnant girlfriend that won’t let her boyfriend do anything with his friends.”

“I never said that you were.” He looks at your face and you glare at him.

“You’re thinking it.”

Eddie lets out a laugh. “Oh my god! Yes, you’re fucking psycho! But you’ve always been psycho. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

“Oh, don’t be such a kiss ass.” You look away from him and he stands up from the couch, stretching his arms above his head, letting out an annoyed laugh. “You really think I’m psycho? I don’t think you know what psycho is, buddy.”

Eddie turns to you, his hand over his mouth as he stares at you. He was wearing his old hellfire shirt; it accentuated every single outline of his stupid muscles, and it made you even more mad with how good he looked.

“Take off your pants.” He demands you.

“What?!” You ask him shocked. “No, I’m not taking off my pants.”

“Fine, I will then.” He’s in front of you on the couch, pulling your knees to him and you squeal as he gently pulls off your sweatpants. He leans up on your knees, kissing your lips softly. You pull away quickly from his mouth.

“No, baby. I can’t, it’s gonna hurt and I don’t want it to hurt.” You plead with him, your rage disappearing into full blown whining.

His fingers knead your thighs, gently massaging the soft skin. He kisses your lips again. “Just relax, take a deep breath and just relax.” He tells you sweetly and you stare at him lovingly.

He gently leans your back against the couch, and dips his head, leaving a soft kiss on your inner thigh. Your eyes flutter close, and you curl your fingers through his hair. His lips gently kiss closer to your mound, leaving butterfly kisses on your clit. You sigh loudly, feeling his tongue lick you gently and suck on your clit so generously. A soft cry escapes you, tugging at his hair. He was being so gentle with you, so soft, you felt every single ache, pain, worry fall away as his mouth devoured you. Your back arches, and you grip his wrist. His tongue made small circles around your opening, and your back arches. You could feel yourself close to release, it had been so long and the build up was about to explode out of you and you almost wince. Eddie lifts his head up, his fingers gently rubbing your clit.

“Don’t tense, baby. Just relax.” He whispers to you and dips his face back down, his tongue swirling around your clit and you breathe in deeply through your nose, feeling the euphoria in your lower belly as your orgasm glides out of you and you are moaning loud. You felt your lower muscles clench painfully for a split second and then you relax, all you could feel was his mouth, and the pure ecstasy coursing through your veins.

He lifts his head up, smiling at you as you let out a sigh, and he snakes his way up your form, wiping at his face. Your eyes meet his and you frown, petting his cheek. “Why would you do that for me?” Your eyes fill with tears, and he laughs. “Am I really that crazy?”

Eddie laughs, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Yes. You’re crazy, but I’d do anything to make you happy and…get the demon out of you.”

“Shut up.” You laugh/cry and he kisses your cheek as you pull up your sweatpants. His hands cup your belly, and you feel a kick. Eddie feels it too and he meets your eyes, they fill with tears, and he lets out a gasp.

“That’s what it feels like?” He says, putting both his hands on your belly.

“It feels like gas.” You laugh, putting your hand over his, wiping away a stray tear. “They’ll be more frequent as I get bigger.”

You glance at the clock and tuck his curly hair behind his ear. “You gotta get going, you gotta go break the news to Dusty buns that you’re gonna be a dad.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “Do you think he’s gonna freak?”

“Dustin? Oh, I think he’s gonna lose his mind.”

“Come with me?” He asks with pleading puppy dog eyes.

“After what you just did to me? Dude, I am taking a long nap on this couch and watching three’s company and eating a bunch of food. You can handle this without me.” You pet his face and he groans.

“Ugh, fine. If I come home drunk it’s his fault, not mine.”

“You really think he’s gonna get you drunk? He can’t even drink yet.”

“Exactly.” He puts on his leather and his Dio vest. He kisses you deeply. “I won’t be late.” You stare at him as he heads for the door, and he turns to look at you. “What?” He grins.

“Just bringing me back, you wearing that.” You smile, titling your head to the side. “The good and the bad.”

He grins at you, cupping your face and kissing you again, he winks. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Eddie had broken the news to Dustin, who freaked out naturally, but was more than happy and was tossing out names for the baby; Dustin Jr was a big one. Eddie had gotten drunk and had let it slip that he bought the house in Boston and that he was waiting until your birthday to surprise you.

“Dude, I told you!” Robin said with a huge grin.

“Wait, you’re moving?” Steve says, trying to hide his frown.

Eddie nods, kind of kicking himself in the ass for telling them. “Yes, Stevie. But you can visit me anytime you want.” Eddie pinches his cheeks and makes a kissy face at him, Steve pushes him away playfully.

“I’m not even gonna miss you, so, whatever.” Steve says with a shrug, sipping his beer.

“Aww, my two best friends fighting. I missed this.” Dustin says lovingly, wrapping his arms around the both of you. “Boston eh? Hahvahd yahhhhd, right?”

Eddie stares at him. “You’ve been wanting to say that forever, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” He laughs.

Eddie smiles, ruffling his hair.

“So, when is the big move date?” Robin asks with a grin.

“Her dad and I have been trying to figure it out, but it makes the most sense if we go there before she has the baby. The house is already ours so there’s no rush to get in it. Her dad has been going there with her mom’s friends to repaint the inside, add some furniture. He already turned part of the garage into a music room.” Eddie smirks, shaking his head. “I told him not to, but he has a feeling his grandkid is gonna be musical.”

“You still don’t want to know what it is?” Steve asks. “How are you gonna know what to get?”

“Well, you know her. She doesn’t follow societies rules on colors for boys and girls. Everything has been neutral colors, a lot of black.” He laughs. He twirls the bottle in his hand. “She asked me to marry her, when she first told me she was pregnant.”

Robin nearly spits out her drink, Dustin squeaks and Steve actually smiles large. “What?! What did you say!?”

“I don’t have the ring yet; I want it to be perfect.”

“Well get the ring, dummy!” Robin shouts.

“I have the ring. It’s just being adjusted at the jewelers. She’s not a diamond girl so I had to get creative.”

Robin puts her hand over her mouth and her eyes fill with tears. “Is it her mom’s ring?”

Eddie smiles at her and nods. “It’s not her mother’s engagement ring, but a ring she wore. Her father had held onto it for this exact reason. It’s an emerald, with some diamond accents on the sides that are from her mother's ring.”

“You’re gonna get her pregnant again.” Steve says with a chuckle. “Damn, who would’ve thought Eddie Munson was such a softy?”

Eddie laughs. “No one, not even me. But here we are.” They clink their beer bottles, and continue their hang out, laughing and debating on the best baby names for your child.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You had come home after meeting with Robin, feeling pleasantly full of the meatball sub but craving pickles. Eddie was already home when you pulled in and as soon as you walked in the door, you’re in the refrigerator grabbing the pickle jar. Eddie is on the couch, tuning Sweetheart, his hair was up in a half pony away from his face and he looks up at you grinning, with his pick in between his teeth. “Hey, birthday girl.”

You kiss his forehand, plopping on the couch next to him, opening the jar. He looks at you and takes his pick out, gently strumming. “Is that sauce on your shirt?”

You gaze up at him mid bite. “Yes. It is. I had a meatball sub.”

He strums a cord again. “That sounds like a good lyric to a Corroded song.” He sings the next part. “Pregnant woman, meatball sub, sauce all over her chesssssssst, doesn’t care if you stare, she’ll do it all over agaiiiiin!”

You slap his arm, and he laughs. “You’re such an idiot. Baby wanted meatballs, and now he wants pickles.”

“Isn’t that the second jar?”

“Yeah. It is. Stop judging me!” You mock whine and he laughs, kissing the side of your face.

“I’m not, it’s actually really hot and turns me on.” Eddie says with a grin.

“What? Me eating a pickle?” You say with a mouthful.

“Uhhh, yeah.” He laughs, laying Sweetheart down on the couch. “You have a good birthday so far?”

You nod, tightening the lid on the pickle jar. “Robin went nuts with presents.” You tap the bag at your feet with your toe and he leans down to grab it. He pulls out a framed photo of David Bowie surrounded by flowers, a bunch of cassette tapes, a pots and pans set, which you didn’t understand why she bought you one, when you already had one.

Eddie bites back a smile and places the bag on the floor.

“Okay, my turn.” Eddie says with a grin, bouncing off the couch and running into your room.

“What? Eddie, I told you not to get me anything you already got me pregnant!” You scold him.

“Do I ever listen to you?” He says, peeking his head out the doorway and you roll your eyes. He comes out with two wrapped presents; one you assume is a record by the shape of it, and a rectangular box. He sits on the couch and hands you the record shaped one. You take it from him with a smile, and you sit criss cross. The wrapping paper was a paper bag, with a bunch of doodles and words, you carefully pull it apart.

“Babe just rip it.” He laughs.

“No, I don’t wanna ruin it.” You smile, opening it all the way and you’ll pull out a record. Your eyes widen when you realize it’s the first pressing of Queen’s A Night at the Opera.

“How did you find this? Baby, this must have cost you a fortune.”

“Nah, I just had to sell my body for a few weeks.” He sticks out his tongue and you laugh.

“This is amazing.” You grab his chin, kissing him sweetly. “Thank you.”

“Happy Birthday.” He smiles against your lips and hands you the rectangular box. “Now wait, before you open it, there’s something I need to say.”

You gaze into his eyes, and he smiles shyly at you. He kneels in front of you, leaning his arms on your lap as he looks at you. “I have to confess something to you.”

“Oh?” You smirk.

“We met…in 1981, right? You were fourteen, I was fifteen.” You nod and he continues. “So, it wasn’t by coincidence you happened to be walking by me when I ran headfirst into a mud puddle to get away from Jason and his minions.”

“What do you mean?” You laugh.

“No one was chasing me.” He bites his lip, and you laugh.

“Again, what are you talking about?”

“I lied when I said that that was the first time I saw you.” He buries his face in your lap, embarrassed. “The first time I actually saw you was at the record store. You were in Bowie’s section, with your headphones in. Your hair was in two braids over your shoulders, you were wearing a Motley Crue shirt with the collar cut off and ripped baggy jeans. Sully had been giving me shit about something because I was there all the time and never bought anything, but something happened as soon as saw your face. I wanted to know who you were, how come I’d never seen you before? I remember going over to you, and you had abruptly turned around, so I had to make it seem like I was looking at something and I ended up knocking a bunch of vinyls off the shelf because I tripped over my own stupid feet. Sully was pissed.” He laughs and you giggle. “Then I figured out that every Tuesday and Thursday you would walk there after school, so I made up that plan. I waited for you to leave, that crazy storm had happened so everything was wet and muddy. And, I ran. I ran so fast I think I actually caused myself to fall, and I went straight into that ditch. I’m pretty sure I knocked myself out because when I came to, I just see your beautiful face, covered in mud, pulling me out of the ditch.”

You laugh loudly. “Dude, I thought you were dead! I just look over when I see something sprint by me and hear a crash, and you’re face first in the mud. I kept saying to myself how fucking wonderful it was to move to a new town and witness some kid die a brutal death in mud. When you started moaning, I was relieved.”

“I wish you left me there, honestly.” He shakes his head, leaning his cheek on your knee. “That was so embarrassing and so stupid.”

“No way was I gonna leave you there! I was the last person to see you! You were lucky my house was around the corner. My mom didn’t know if I was dragging in an animal or what.” You wipe the tears from your eyes. “She was shocked when you batted those big brown eyes at her.”

“I honestly didn’t think you were gonna take me back to your house.” He laughs, taking the rectangular box and placing it in your lap. “When you were cleaning me up, and there wasn’t an ounce of judgment on your face. I felt like I was home. That you were my home.”

Your eyes fill up with tears, and you rub his cheek gently. “Baby, you can’t do this to a pregnant woman.”

“Open it.” He tells you, taking your hand and squeezing it gently. You sniffle and wipe your nose with your sleeve, you unwrap it and see a black square box. You glance at him, pulling the lid off and you see a set of keys.

You meet his eyes, your heart racing, not sure what you were looking at, but something clicked when you saw the look in his eyes. “What are these?”

“Keys to home.” He tells you softly, his eyes filling with tears. “Our home.”

You inhale a shaky breath. “What do you mean?” He sits on the couch next to you, taking your face in his hands.

“I got us the house, baby.” He says, his voice trembling. “Your house.”

You shake your head, tears spilling from your eyes. “No…no, Eddie. What? In Boston?” He nods and you let out a cry. “Are you serious? No…how? Baby that’s too much, that’s too much…” You're sobbing now and he curls his fingers in your hair.

“No, it’s not, it’s not. I made it work.” His tears fall. “When I saw how you looked at it, how there was so much joy on your face, I knew what I had to do. And I did it.”

“Why?” You squeeze his knee; the tears were continuing to flow freely.

“Because I meant it when I said that you’re my end game. That I would do anything in this entire world to make you happy. And you deserve it, you deserve this so much. We deserve to raise this baby in our home, in a cheesy suburb and to have a family. I love you. All those years ago, when you pulled me out of the mud, when you cleaned me up and stood by my side when the shire was fucking burning, you made me realize how to love and to love deeply. No matter what the cost. You’re my home. My love. My best friend. You’re everything to me.”

You throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kiss him deeply, tasting your tears mixed with his. He holds your face, pressing his forehead against yours as you cry. “Does my dad know? What about doctors and all that?”

“He’s known since the beginning. Why do you think he’s been in Boston more frequently, why do you think he’s there now?” You laugh, shaking your head. “Everything for the baby and appointments is taken care of.”

You stare into his eyes, holding his face. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” His eyes dart from your lips to your eyes. “It’s the start of our life together.”

You pull him towards you by the back of his head, leaning back so he’s hovering above you and you are kissing passionately. You then move yourself onto his lap, pulling your dress over your head and kissing his lips again. His hands gently rub circles on your soft skin, cup over your supple breasts and rub your nipples softly. You undo his belt, releasing his length and he pulls back to look at you. His hand gently holds your face, drapes your hair over your shoulder, his eyes scan over your breasts, your protruding belly, the curve of your hips. “You are a goddess.” He whispers to you, and you smile, kissing his palm. You carefully lower yourself on him, moaning softly when you take him all in, his head falls back against the couch, and a soft grunt escapes him. You roll your hips gently, his hands grip your thighs, gently guiding you. He takes your nipple in his mouth, gently sucking on the skin and you cry out, the sensation causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh as he handled you so delicately. You meet his lips again, your tongues fighting for dominance as you move your hips a little faster. He holds your waist, grunting and whimpering as you clench around him, your orgasm approaching. His mouth sucks on your nipples again, and you cry out, your orgasm explodes out of you and your head falls back in pure ecstasy. He holds onto your waist, groaning until he finally cums and he’s trembling beneath you. You lift his face to look at him, running your hands along his jaw, kissing his cheeks, his collarbone, his lips.

“Home.” You say with a smile, and he grins wide; his cheeks flushed.

“Home, baby.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The move was a lot less stressful than than you expected thought it was gonna be. It helped that your father and your mother’s friends had the whole place pretty much furnished by the time you got there. When you stood in the foyer, you forgot to take a breath. You couldn’t believe you were standing in your childhood home, two weeks away from giving birth, with the man of your dreams, in a place you love. Everything almost looked the same but a lot of it was different. And you liked it that way. You had your own memories when you were a child of this house, and now your child will have their own memories. You walk up the carpeted steps, remembering what pictures went where, what plants hung on the walls. When you get to the top of the stairs to look down the hallway where your parent’s bedroom used to be (yours and Eddie’s now) you notice a framed black and white photograph. Upon getting close you realize it’s your mother, a picture you’ve never seen before. She looks about your age, her hair was chopped short, sticking out in every direction that reminded you of Pat Benatar. She was looking off to the side, smiling at something she had seen, and you realize then how much you look like her.

Eddie comes up the steps behind you, holding a cardboard box of unopened baby things to put in the room across from yours. He notices the picture and smiles.

“Damn. You look like her here.” He studies her face. “Same eyes and everything.”

“Spooky, huh?” You say with a soft laugh, grimacing when you felt a dull ache in your lower belly. Eddie puts the box down and rests his hand on your lower back, noticing your discomfort.

“That pain come back again?” He asks worriedly. “I feel like you should call your doctor.”

“No, it’s normal. Just means he’s getting ready to shoot out of me.” You kiss his cheek gently and go into your bedroom. You’re amazed at the size of the bed. The wooden frame, the softness of the bedding. There were still some boxes to unpack, and you sit on the edge of the bed, trying to drag the box with your barefoot.

“I’ll do this.” Eddie laughs. “Why don’t you rest? You were sitting in a car for too long.” He picks your legs up and drapes them on the bed.

“There’s still so much to do, we have to set up the crib, the changing table…”

“I’ll handle all that. You just rest.” He kisses your forehead. “Please, I know it’s hard for you to sit still, but look, we got a tv in here now!” He turns it on with the remote on the nightstand and Cheers comes on the screen. “Look! How fitting!” He kisses your lips again and pull the covers up to your chest.

“Fine, but you should come to bed soon, too. You’ve been wired all morning.” You laugh, tucking the pillow in between your legs.

“Coffee and weed, my love. The best combo in the world.” He dramatically curtseys out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. You laugh, shaking your head. The baby’s foot was in your ribs and your grunt, trying to push it down. “Damn, are you going to be a drummer or what?” The baby kicks again and you smile. Tears form your eyes when you realize these feelings, these little kicks, the changes in your body, were going to be gone soon and you would have to share him with the world. Part of you didn’t want to; you wanted to shield him from this world to protect him forever in your little bubble. You knew you couldn’t do that though, you didn’t want to, but for these last nine months, it was just you two, growing together. You wondered who he would look like. Would he have Eddie’s eyes and your smile? Would he have dimples like the both of you? Would he have Eddie’s thick mane of curls or your waviness, or a perfect mix of both? Would he look like your mother?

Your chest clenches at the thought, you realize you haven’t been thinking about her much lately, and part of you felt so guilty about that. But then you tell yourself that grief doesn’t end, that it’s a constant stream and you don’t have to constantly feel it all the time, even though it’s there. You were scared, you were scared to navigate this new life without her by your side. Who would you call for advice? Who would be there to watch him so you could take a shower? That wasn’t even why you wanted her there. You just wanted her back. Even just for a second, you wanted to see her, to hug her, to tell her how much you missed her, to introduce her to her grandchild. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in deeply, the tears fall down your cheeks and you feel the little flutters of kicks in your belly, as if he was telling you, it’s okay, mama, I’m here now. And he was, your little bean, your little baby.

Neither one of you could sleep that much during the first week in the house, your belly felt larger than it did days ago and every position you were in felt wrong. Eddie had made a makeshift body pillow with two of the pillows from the bed, and when you curled yourself around the softness, you felt more relaxed. Eddie turned to his side, gently running his fingers up and down your spine, the two of you just lying there quietly in the darkness.

“Can I ask you something?” You say, gently patting his bare chest.

“Of course.” He says softly.

“The night my mom died…how did…what made you come to my house so fast, before you knew?”

You feel him stiffen a little and he sighs, his hand reaching up to caress your hair. “Honestly, I have no idea. You had called me a few hours before to let me know what had happened, so naturally I was in my panic state, pacing around my house, smoking joint after joint. Starting a project, not finishing it. When it had been about three hours of not hearing from you, I just felt this push that I needed to go to you. I heard screaming before I even pulled up to your house, I ended up parking on the sidewalk because I didn’t know who or what was screaming, and I ran. I saw you come down your steps, but you didn’t see me, and you just screamed so loud. Then your knees buckled, and I ran so fast. You kept screaming and…” he inhales deeply, his lips trembling. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this was gonna be hard to talk about. But, yeah. It fucking sucked, seeing you like that and not knowing why. But I just knew that I had to be there for you, I couldn’t just sit back and wait.”

You blindly reach up to find his face. “As brutal as it was, I’m glad you were there. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t.”

He kisses your palm. “I’m glad I was there too.”

You rest your palm on his chest, and he covers it with his hand. You giggle. “What would she always say to you before you came into the house?”

Eddie laughs and clears his throat, attempting to do his best impression of your mother with the Boston accent. “Eddie, I sweayah ta God. If ya don’t wipe ya feet before coming into my house…man, I miss her.”

You chuckle and clench your fingers over his chest. “I miss her too. A lot of her is here still, in this house. I can feel it.”

“Is that why you can’t sleep?” He chuckles.

“No, your child kicking me in the ribs is why I can’t sleep.” You laugh. “But yeah, I keep thinking I hear her downstairs in the kitchen, making a midnight snack.”

Eddie flicks the bedside light on, and you squint at the brightness. “Wanna go make a snack?”

“Do we have food?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“Tom and Susie stocked the entire kitchen. Yes, there’s food.” He laughs, jumping out of bed. He tightens the string on his plaid pajama pants and holds out his hand, to help you climb out of bed. You grunt, laughing loudly as a fart escapes you and you fall back on the bed.

Eddie stares at you with a grin, helping you up again. “You are so sexy.”

“Shut up, you know I’m extra gassy.” You laugh, standing up straighter and pulling down your night shirt, you place your hand on your lower back, and groan, stepping in your slippers. The two of you shuffle down into the kitchen; you decided to make decaf tea while Eddie rummaged through the cabinets. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“How hungry are you?” You stare at him hard, and he laughs. “Okay dumb question. How about…everything pizza, on French bread?”

You were already picking at the blueberries as you sat at the kitchen table, and you meet his eyes. “You really know your way into my panties. Yes, pizza. Everything.”

He laughs, kissing the side of your head. He preheats the oven, and you get together all the ingredients, which was a lot: cheese, peppers, pepperoni, sausage, olives, spinach, mozzarella, and ham. The two of you laughed the entire time in the kitchen, and when the pizzas were done and you were both full, you sat on the couch in the living room. He laid on his stomach talking to your belly while you played with his hair.

“And then, when mommy has a weekend away with Auntie Robin. It will just be us dudes, I’ll get you your own little toy guitar, maybe some drums and we can go to a strip club…ow!” You pull his hair and he laughs loudly. “Okay, okay, when you’re eighteen. We can just hang at home; I’ll show you all my favorite musicians and I’ll get you your first set of dice. How’s that sound?” Eddie giggles, kissing your stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you, little man.”

Something happens to you just then; you feel a warm liquid pool between your legs and a dull ache in your lower back. You gasp quietly and Eddie sits back on his heels. “Um, well I don’t think you have to wait any longer cause my water just broke.”

“Oh shit.” Eddie scoots off the couch, nearly tripping over the leg of the coffee table to get the hospital bags. You scoot forward and lift yourself off the couch, breathing deeply. You carefully step out of your soiled underwear, noting that whatever came out of you wasn’t water. And another dull ache hits your lower back as you pull on a pair of sweatpants.

“How far apart?” Eddie rushes in the room, handing you your jean jacket as he’s awkwardly throwing his t-shirt over his head. His boots are already on, untied and he zips up both duffle bags.

“They’re not that painful yet.” Your heart was racing as you slip your feet into your converse. You start panicking a little and Eddie takes your hand, dropping the bags.

“Hey baby, look at me, look at me.” He cups your face, his brown eyes wide with panic and joy. “You got this, okay?”

“Yeah?” You say, inhaling deeply and he kisses your forehead, your hand shakes as you squeeze his. “Bags are packed? Clothes, diapers, my stuff, hair brush…”

“Everything is here.” He tells you gently and you let out a sigh of relief, almost laughing.

“Okay, let me go shit out this kid.”

“So metal.” Eddie mutters with a laugh as the two of you walk out to your car and he double checks the car seat is nice and secure. You sit in the front seat, breathing deeply. Eddie drives out of the neighborhood to head towards the hospital.

They took you into a room almost immediately, it was spacious, quiet. The doctor had come in, she had checked your cervix, and you were only 1 cm dilated. The contractions weren’t too severe yet, so they wanted to wait until you were a few more centimeters to give you the epidural. You lay on the hospital bed; Eddie had propped you up on the pillows. You had an IV line in your hand, and a heart monitor around your belly.

The contractions came out of nowhere, and they fucking hurt. Your labor and delivery nurse, a nice lady named Rita, suggested that you get up and walk around, and do some deep breathing. You had your hand on your lower back, and inhale deeply when the pain radiated down your legs. You groan, Eddie comes over to you, gently rubbing your back and you put your hand up.

“Be gone from me!” You said through your teeth, sounding like something out of a Monty Python film. “Don’t touch me.”

Eddie steps back, putting his hands up in surrender and trying his best not to laugh, but he felt so bad for you. You lean over on the bed, resting your head in between your elbows as the pain subsides. You sit up straight and request an exercise ball, thinking the movement would help ease the contractions but, it didn’t. You groan again, your insides feeling like they’re being pulled apart by a vice grip and you grit your teeth. Your rest your forehead on your arms, breathing deeply.

“Hey, uh, Rita? Could we do something about this?” You say, your voice shaking with pain. Rita informs your doctor that you were ready for the epidural, she checks your cervix, you were only 5 cm. The anesthesiologist comes in to discuss the next steps. You bounce on the ball, Eddie had placed a cold washcloth on the back of your neck, you were overheating and full of rage. If the drugs weren’t in your system soon, you would be okay with committing murder.

He was a tall man, with bright blue eyes, and a kind smile. You stare at his face, trying your best not grimace and feeling grateful for these three minutes of being pain free. He starts to talk about what to expect when a wave of contractions hits you and you put your hand up to his face, quieting him.

“No.” You say, through your teeth. “Hold on.”

The anesthesiologist looks at Eddie and Eddie shrugs. “Give her a minute.”

The pain subsides and you lift your head up, smiling. “Okay, go on.”

He smiles sympathetically, letting you know what to expect, what could go wrong, what could work and not work. He said you wouldn’t be able to feel anything from the waist down, and it will slow down your labor, but you’d be able to rest comfortably until you were ready to deliver.

You were more than ready to get the epidural. Eddie had to leave the room once he saw the needle because he almost passed out, which freaked you out because you yourself hated needles and were also worried about him, but you didn’t even feel it once the needle went in. Once you were settled, Eddie had come back into the room to find you laying comfortably on the bed.

“Hey baaaaaby.” You say with a grin.

He laughs, pulling up a chair and sitting next to you. “Hey, feeling good?”

“Oh this is wonderful. I can’t feel my legs, or anything below the waist.” You gaze at his features. “God, you’re beautiful.”

He kisses the top of your hand and smiles. “Wanna get some sleep?”

“Oh I’m gonna try.” You cup his cheek gently, staring into his brown eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

“You tell me everyday.” He smiles at you. “I love you too.”

You felt like you had fallen asleep for maybe twenty minutes. It had been three hours, and you feel sudden pressure near your pelvic area. You hold onto the railings of the bed and let out a groan. Your epidural was wearing off, and this baby was coming.

“It’s time.” You say through your teeth as your head falls back against the pillow. Eddie is at your side immediately and the nurse pages the doctor who was there in less than a minute. You were in a fog, the lights seemed brighter and there was so many things happening in the room you could only focus on what was happening to your body.

“Okay honey, deep breath in and push.” The doctor says and you could feel her hands near your lower half, but it felt foreign, there was still almost no feeling. You squeeze your eyes shut and push, Eddie was holding your leg up and gently coaxing you.

“You got this baby, you got it.” He says, even his voice felt foreign to you.

What was happening?

“I can’t…I can’t…” You let out a whimper, tears spring to your eyes and your head falls back against the pillow. You’re able to collect yourself for less than a minute before another wave of a contraction goes through you and you attempt to lift yourself on your elbows and try to get your brain to use muscles you could barely feel.

Get him out. Get him out he needs to be out.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

“The head is out! Come on honey, one big push for me, you’re doing so good.” The doctor says and you grimace, letting out a gasp.

“No, no, no. I can’t, I can’t…”

“You’re doing so good baby, you’re doing so good.” Eddie says, looking into your eyes and smiling large. Your vision was blurring, the tears hot on your face. A painful cry escapes you and it feels like the lower half of you is being split open and you feel the doctor's hands push you apart.

What the fuck is happening to me

What is happening to me

I can feel this

It hurts

Please get him out

“Shoulders out! Keep going! One more big push, honey!”

You grit your teeth and your head plops against the pillow. The pain was too much, you were tired, you were so tired…

The most beautiful sound in the world reaches your ears. New lungs expanding, new lungs breathing, crying…

You hear Eddie let out a soft sob. “Baby, you were right. He’s out, he’s here.”

You lift your head, seeing the face of your newborn son as they place him on your naked chest. His cries are music to your ears, and you couldn’t believe he was yours. He was so warm against your chest.

Why is everything foggy?

Why is it getting dark?

The blood pressure machine attached to you beeps loudly.

No no no no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Something isn’t right.

It was suddenly cold where he was on your chest.

Where are they taking him?!

Eddie says your name, you can hear the panic in his voice.

“Her BP is dropping, she’s hemorrhaging!” The doctor's voice sounded so far away. A mask goes over your face, and you had tunnel vision.

No this isn’t right! This isn’t supposed to happen! Don’t close your eyes! Don’t fucking close your eyes! Your son needs you! Don’t you fucking dare! Don’t you –

They have the pull Eddie away from the rail of the bed as you completely lose consciousness.

“What is happening to her?!” He yells as he stares at your unmoving form. A male nurse takes his arm and brings him towards the double doors. “Where are you taking my son?! What the fuck is happening?!”

“You need to step outside; we need to get her stable. Your son will be in the nursery, a nurse will take you there, but you need to let us help her.” The nurse tells him gently.

“Help her!? What do you…” Eddie notices the blood finally, and his heart falls out of his chest and through his stomach. “Oh my…no! No! What is happening?!” Tears are pouring from his eyes as the nurse has to drag him out the doors. His eyes dart from you to the little bassinet with your son as he disappears down the hall. The nurse finally gets him through the doors into a small waiting room and physically sits him on the chair.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Eddie yells at him and tries to stand but his legs are wobbly, they feel like jello. He felt like he was sinking, and he feels the hot tears on his face. He was angry, overwhelmed, terrified, so fucking terrified. The nurse stops him from collapsing to the floor and awkwardly puts him in the chair.

“I’m gonna need you to calm down.” He tells him gently.

“My son…where did they take my son…” He doesn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice. Everything felt fake. His eyes are wide as he stares at the doors of the delivery room.

“They took him to the nursery to get him cleaned up, Rita will come and get you and bring you to him, but first I need you to take a deep breath with me.” The man’s eyes were kind, but Eddie was in no mood for kind.

Eddie’s eyes narrow and fix on the nurse, pure anger on his face. “What is happening to her?”

“They’re doing everything they can for her right now. I need you to relax for me.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax! Is she dying?! Is my wife dying?!”

My wife.

Soon to be.

Too late now.

Eddie’s hands go over his mouth, and he lets out an angry groan. So many things scream in his brain at this exact moment, and he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t fucking handle it. She was dying. She was fucking dying and they couldn’t even tell him that. What would he tell her dad? What would they tell their son when he grew up?

My son.

“Take me to him now.” Eddie stands up and the nurse steps back a little. He goes to object but Rita comes around the corner, a sweet smile on her face.

“Come on honey, you need to be with your son. He’s ready for you.” She says gently. Suddenly, his feet feel cemented to the floor as his eyes fix on the door to the delivery room. He trembled violently; his brown eyes almost black as the tears flowed freely. He feels Rita’s soft hand on his arm.

“Come on, walk with me.”

Eddie’s gaze slowly fixes on hers, his eyes wide, rimmed red. She gently takes his arm and brings him down to towards the nursery where there’s a separate room. Eddie wipes his face, as they go into the room, and he sees your son in the arms of one of the nurses, giving him a bottle. Eddie’s breath hitches as he stares at him, a smile graces his lips. Rita gently nudges him and guides him to the sink to wash his hands. Eddie quickly washes them, and the other nurse stands up with him, and gently places him in Eddie’s arms. They guide him to sit in the rocking chair and hand him the bottle, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Eddie stares at the face of his newborn son, so small in his arms. He made soft coos and squeaks, Eddie felt something shift inside him, felt warmth and joy creep into his gut as his son looks into his eyes. He couldn’t stop the pain that hit his chest as he rocks him gently and puts the bottle to his lips, a son needs his mother.

Eddie couldn’t believe something so beautiful could exist and part of it have his DNA. One of his tears falls on the baby’s forehead, Eddie gently wipes it away and presses his lips to his head. “We’re gonna be okay. So is your mom. That I can promise you.” He whispers to him before quietly sobbing in the rocking chair, petting his little head. He promised him. He promised. She was gonna be fine.

She was gonna be fine.

A sudden brightness causes you to squint as you feel a warmth around you. You were outside, but why were you outside? You were standing on a dock, overlooking the lake. Where were you? Where was Eddie? You walk towards the lake on the dock, you see the silhouette of a woman leaning against the railing. All you can hear is the sounds of your own breathing, and your own footsteps as you walk towards her.

Something felt off.

Why were you outside?

When you approach the woman, she turns to you and a tight groan escapes your chest.

You were staring into the eyes of your mother.

You stumble back a step, holding onto the railing as you stare at her. Tears spring to your eyes, she was so beautiful. She looked ethereal.

“It’s okay honey, it’s just me.” She says to you gently.

“Why are you here?” You whisper, trying to balance yourself on shaky legs. “What is this…you’re…”

“Dead?” Your mom laughs. “Oh I am. Dead as a doornail.” Her eyes meet your panic-stricken ones, and she sighs. “I’m sorry honey, did you really think my dark humor would go away when I kicked it?”

A smile hits your lips, but you shake your head. “What is happening? Where is Eddie?” You felt something else missing too, but you couldn’t place it.

“Eddie is where he’s always been.” She smiles. “I miss that beautiful brown eyed goofball. He looks like him.”

“Who?” You suddenly felt terrified, but your feet were unable to move. “Mom, I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

“You’re not.” Your mother meets your eyes, smiling sadly. “But you are.”

That’s when you hear his cries, they echo in the distance, off the lake, you feel it in your very core.

Your son. Your newborn son.

“No no no no no no no.” You turn towards your mother, grabbing her arms, they were warm. “No! This isn’t happening. I’m not dead. I’m not fucking dead! I’m not leaving him! I can’t do that to him! He needs me! LIKE I NEEDED YOU!” You sob as you fix your eyes on your mothers, and her eyes are filled with tears.

“Then fight.” She tells you with such determination and pride in her voice. “Do what I was too weak to do. Fight it. Your heart still beats.”

The cries get louder in the distance and your body shakes with sobs. You felt your heart split in two all over again as you turn back towards her. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You need to.” She reaches up to touch your face. “Baby, I’m okay, but you’re not. That’s why I’m here. Fight this. Fight. Turn around and run. Go before it’s too late. Eddie needs you. My grandson needs you. All you need to do is open your eyes, just open your eyes and breathe.”

“What if I can’t?” You sob. “Mom, I miss you so much.”

“You can!” Her voice breaks, gently shaking your head in her hands. “I have never left you. I’ve always been here. I miss you so much too baby, but you can’t stay here. You need to go. I’ll be here when it’s your time but it’s not your time. Not now.”

“Mom…” You cry.

She pulls your head down and kisses your forehead. “You need to wake up now.”

A gasp escapes your lips as your eyes snap open, the smells of disinfectant and floral hit your nostrils. Your vision was still blurry, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, and you whimper loudly, feeling a scream billow in your chest.

“Where is he?!” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you feel something plastic in your nose and you pull it out, hearing a soft hiss, pushing yourself up on your elbows. You see Eddie’s face appear in front of you as he holds your face in his hands.

“Hey hey hey. Relax, relax. He’s fine. He’s perfect, he’s in the nursery. All 7 pounds, 6 ounces of him.” His voice sounds relieved as he stares into your eyes. You remember that look, he was making sure you were real.

“What happened?” Your lip trembles.

Eddie sighs deeply. “After he was out, you wouldn’t stop bleeding. You had hemorrhaged pretty soon after. It was…it was touch and go…we almost lost you.”

Your lip trembles and you shake your head. “All I remember is seeing his face, and then just complete darkness. Did I even hold him? Did he even feel me? Oh god...”

He cups your cheek. “You held him. They put him right on your chest. He saw you.”

“Why isn’t he here yet? I want to see him.” You flinch, trying to move, the lower half of you still sore. Eddie tells you that you had to have stitches from a third-degree tear and that you would be healing for about 6 weeks from it. Eddie gets the nurse to go bring him in from the nursery; you sit up in bed, Eddie had fluffed your pillows, and your heart skips a few beats when they wheel him in his bassinet, all swaddled looking like a little glow worm.

Baby boy Munson was written on the card above his head with his weight and day of birth. Eddie picks him up gently, mimicking his little coos.

“Come here, little dude. Time to see Mama.”

You smile as Eddie places him gently in your arms and you let out a sigh of relief as you stare at him. The first thing you notice about him is his dimples on both cheeks. His little hand squeezes around your finger and you let out a cry. Eddie kisses the side of your face, and you turn to kiss to his lips deeply.

“Oh god, I’m so happy he’s here.” You cry silently and take in a deep breath. “We need to name him.”

“I was waiting for you.” He scoots in the bed next to you, gently rubbing his finger over the baby’s nose.

You look at his face; you could already see the similarities between him and Eddie. You could also see similarities of you and him.

“How about…Hunter? Hunter James Munson.”

Eddie’s eyes light up. “That has a pretty awesome ring to it. Yeah, Hunter. I love that.”

“Yeah?” You smile and giggle, Hunter’s eyes open as he looks at you. “Hunter James Munson…born on June…”

You stop talking when you notice the date.

It had been one year. It had been one year today since your mother died. Hunter was born the day before, at 11:58pm. Eddie follows your gaze; it takes him a minute to realize the significance of the date. You begin to sob, your entire body shaking as the cries flow through you. You gently rock Hunter in your arms, kissing his forehead, whispering sweet things in his ear. Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you to his chest. The thing is, you were happier than you had been in a long time, but a little sad. Sad because, it had a been a year, and you couldn’t feel her anymore. You realize it will be like that forever, every happy moment in your life will always be a little sad, but that’s okay.

That’s okay.

The weeks after he had come home was some of the most terrifying and uplifting moments of your life. Hunter was an easy baby; he would only wake up once during the night for a feeding and sleep all the way through the morning until 7:30am. Wayne had visited Boston with your father, and you have never seen two men look so happy to be holding a tiny baby in their arms. Wayne had tears in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it. Your father was over the moon and wept the entire time he held him. The first few weeks, Eddie had to carry you into your bedroom because you had fallen asleep next to Hunter’s crib watching him. You had done that almost every day. You were terrified he wasn’t breathing, even though you knew he was. The doctor’s had called it postpartum anxiety. You were only comfortable enough to talk about it with Eddie and your doctor; it was the nineties, mental health especially with mother’s would brand you unfit or psycho. You had so much anxiety, and while Hunter slept, you didn’t sleep. You cleaned things that were already clean, you would re-organize his bedroom, tidy up the living room after Eddie had just cleaned up. You were sleep deprived, hungry, irritable and hormonal. It was around 3 in the morning when Eddie found you leaning your head on the counter next to the coffee pot, sleeping with the mug still in your hand. Hunter would be waking up in twenty minutes.

“Baby, go to sleep. I got him.” Eddie tells you gently.

Your eyes shoot open, and you stand up straighter. “No, it’s okay, I’m fine. The bottle is all set.”

“That’s coffee, sweetheart.” He drapes your hair over your shoulder.

You blink, staring at the bottle and then back at him. “Oh.” Tears immediately spill from your eyes. Eddie pulls you to him, kissing the side of your head

“Breathe, baby. You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not okay!” You cry. “I could’ve burned him! I’m so tired but if I sleep, I won’t hear him, and if I don’t hear him, he won’t get fed or changed or…”

“Baby, baby, look at me.” Eddie holds your face in his hands. You grip his wrists, you didn’t feel human, you felt like an empty shell, a hermit crab running around trying to find shelter. “I have watched you become the most amazing mother in just six weeks. You’re a natural at it, it’s kind of scary. But you need to give yourself a break. Let me do things. Take a hot bath, go to the record store, go see your mom’s friends. He is going to be perfectly okay.”

“If people see that I’m out and about they’ll judge me because I’m not with him and you’re with him and I don’t want to look like a bad mother.” Your lip quivers at the words.

“Fuck ‘em. Seriously, baby, fuck them. You’re a good mother for taking care of yourself. How does society expect women to take care of their children if they don’t take care of themselves?”

“It’s a man’s world, Eddie.”

“Well, fuck the patriarchy. Fuck societal rules on how you should look like a mother. Fuck all of that. Women are the reason those fuckers have two legs to stand on. I’ll fight anyone who gives my wife shit for wanting to pamper herself.”

“Not wife yet.” You laugh and he rolls his eyes and smiles. He had given you the ring soon after the three of you came home. It sat beautifully on your finger, and every time you looked at the emerald setting, you felt your love for him grow deeper and deeper. As corny as that sounded, but you did.

He takes your hand. “I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me that you’re my wife. Endgame, baby, remember?”

You nod and he kisses your lips. “Go take a nap, take a bath, get yourself dolled up, and go be a human. I got this. You know I do.”

You knew he did. So, you listened, and slowly but surely, you were starting to feel like yourself again. Watching Eddie as a father was something you only see in the movies. He was so present, so hyper focused on everything Hunter did that it made you wonder if somehow you were dreaming this life. Robin and Steve had come to visit for the weekend when Hunter was two months old. You and Robin had sat in the kitchen while him and Steve laid on the floor in the living room with Hunter on his back, smiling at the little animals that hung from his play mat. Steve laid on his stomach with his chin resting on his arms while Eddie laid on his back next to Hunter, making the animals dance and doing the sounds, getting loud coos out of Hunter.

“Look at them.” Robin giggles, nudging you.

You glance over and suppress your giggle. “Should we start the wedding planning? They look like the two happiest dads in the world.”

“Too bad it can only be a civil union.” Robin sighs, and you gently rub her shoulders.

“Hey.” You say to her, and she looks at you. “It’s gonna happen one day, okay? I know it is. And when it does, I’ll officiate it because I would be honored to marry my best friend and whatever lucky lady falls into her lap.”

“You’d do that?” She asks with a sweet smile.

“Are you kidding? Of course, I would! I might be choking on my own tears, but I’ll do it.”

Robin laughs, hugging you close. “Mmm, I’m so happy for you guys. It’s crazy seeing you two as parents.”

“I know, right?” You laugh, looking at Eddie blowing raspberries on Hunter’s tummy. “He’s so good at it, being a dad. Music has always been his calling, but I think this beats that.”

“Have you guys…you know…” Robin winks and nudges you and you laugh loudly.

“Uhhh, no. It’s been too busy; we’ve been too tired.” You sigh. “It took me a long time to heal, but the doctor said everything is up and running the way it should be.”

“Vagina back to it’s pretty old self?”

“Yes, and she is so angry, Robin.”

You cover your hands with your face, finally being able to talk to someone about your overactive sex drive with your lack of sex was starting to turn you into a feral beast. Every time Eddie would so much as touch you gently, you felt like you would bust. You found yourself humping your pillow at night just to feel a sensation between your legs and even that was too much of a chore.

“Damn girl, you need to get laid.” Robin laughs.

“I know, I know.” You sigh. “I just have to time it right.”

“Timing things right with a two-month-old? Good luck.”

Robin was right, and you knew that. You hated that all you kept thinking about was sex. Obviously, Hunter was on your mind twenty-four hours a day, but there was a hunger inside you that needed to quit being starved. Part of you was also scared. Would your vagina reopen? Would it feel wrong to him? Would he hate how it feels down there? Would you hate it?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was hot tonight; you had noticed coming in from the back porch after smoking some weed. You were thankful for this house having central air conditioning, and that you didn’t have to worry about Hunter being too hot or too cold. You peel off your shorts, leaning against the kitchen island in just your underwear and oversized Queen t-shirt, scanning through a grocery flyer as you place the baby monitor down. You overheated a lot faster since having Hunter; you were always freezing but now your body didn’t know how to regulate temperature.

The sound of the front door opening reaches your ears, and you hear Eddie’s footfalls as he comes through the foyer down the hallway. He had his black t-shirt draped over his shoulder, sweat glistens his chest and his jeans hung low. He had been in the garage most of the night, writing music and jamming on the guitar. You don’t turn around when he comes in, you were still very interested in the grocery flyer. He hadn’t expected you to be leaning over the kitchen island in just your underwear; your ass held its perfect shape, with added weight on the cheeks from the pregnancy, and it made him hard just staring at you. There was always something so beautiful about a woman’s body. Eddie loved all shapes, all sizes; he loved the magic a woman’s body could create. To him, you were something out of a mythology; you grew a tiny human inside you, were near death and survived. He wanted to worship that body of yours; it had been too long, and he craved every inch of you. He approaches you from behind; you still ignore him, but you smirk when you feel his heat radiate onto your skin. His lips gently kiss the back of your neck, and you sigh.

“Hi.” He whispers to you, his ringed fingers curl around the fabric of your t-shirt, gently rubbing your bare skin underneath.

“Hi.” You purposely push your ass into him more and you hear him softly grunt.

His lips go behind your ear, gently nipping at the skin. “He asleep?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes flutter close, the feelings in your lower belly creeping in between your legs and you feel instantly wet. His hand goes around to knead your belly, and his other hand goes to your hip, squeezing the skin gently. You moan softly, and quickly turning around, curling your fingers into his hair and pulling his mouth to yours. He pushes his body into you and your back slightly bends against the island, his tongue pushes its way into your mouth as the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. His hand moves its way down between your legs while you stand there, and he palms you over your underwear, groaning at the wetness. A moan escapes you, and he pulls away biting your lip. You stare into each other’s eyes and spot the familiar lust you both thought you had forgotten. His thumb moves along your lips, your chin, your cheek and his hand curls at the nape of your neck. He kisses you again; your hands glide over his chest, feeling his muscles tense at his abdomen as you push your hand into his jeans, taking his erection in your hand and teasing it softly. He growls in your mouth, smiling as he pulls away from you, his lips hover over yours and he lets out a sharp breath as you pump faster on his cock.

He kisses and licks down your throat, gently nipping at your collarbone, his hands gliding up to cup your supple breasts. He pulls you towards him by your ass, easily hoisting you up, wrapping your legs around him. You kiss his neck, his shoulders and his face as he carries you to the living room. The two of you stumble onto the couch, the kissing growing more intense as his hands push your shirt up roughly, moving his face down to nip the soft skin at your ribs, licking stripes all over your breasts and taking your hardened nipple in his mouth, groaning as he sucked. A groan escapes you and your toes curl; the sensation flowing through you like a parade of butterflies. He grinds himself against you; you felt the pressure from his cock through his jeans stimulate your clit and you let out a heavy sigh. He sucks on your nipple harder, groaning as his hands move down to your clit.

“Mmmm, you’re so wet. Did you miss me?” He asks, his voice erotic and smooth.

You whimper out a response and he kisses you again, moving your underwear to the side to glide his two fingers inside you.

“Ahhhunnnnghh, ooh Eddie…” Your back arches and you moan loudly; it had been so long since he had been inside you, and these were just his fingers. He moans at the tightness he felt from you and pumps his fingers in and out. You felt the tingles in your lower belly, the lovely feeling of euphoria about to hit its peak when he suddenly stops. You lift your head to look at him breathless, and you feel yourself getting wetter as you look into his eyes. His pupils were dilated, his beautiful brown eyes were almost black; he looked like a wolf on a hunt, and he was ready to eat. He scoots back on his heels, laying his back down on the other side of the couch. You lift your head to stare at him and he grins widely.

“Get up here and ride my fucking face.” He tells you breathlessly. You don’t object; in one swift motion you’re pulling off your shirt, while stepping out of your underwear. You straddle him, greedily kissing his lips, licking down to bite his neck, and grind your pussy on the top of his jeans. You kneel with your legs on either side of his head, and he scoots down, his breath hot against your cunt. He looks up at you from where he laid, and grips your ass with both hands, pushing you into his mouth. Your head lulls back, feeling his tongue lap at your clit, sucking and tugging the skin around it. You move your hips in sync with his mouth; groaning loudly, feeling as if your soul left your body. His tongue swirls around your clit, leaving soft butterfly kisses on that sensitive bundle.

“Fuck my face.” He groans against you, and he spanks your ass, getting you to squeal and squirm as you lean back on your palms, rolling your hips against his mouth, moving faster and faster. Your moans were getting louder as the pressure in your belly builds, the pure ecstasy you felt as he sucked you dry.

“You like the taste of me, baby?” You ask him, biting your lip as you moan loud, and he whimpers in response; the tip of his tongue moves quicker against your clit. “Unnnghhh, I’m gonna cum all over your mouth, baby. Ohhh, oooh, fu-fuck Eddie, ahhh. God, you’re so good at this.” You sound almost whiney, and that sets him off, licking you faster, biting your clit gently and groaning. You roll your hips faster, and he squeezes your ass, burying his face deeper into your cunt as you felt your orgasm hit your depths.

You cry out, your body trembles and your head falls back, mouth falling open in a gasp. He continues to devour you, tasting every inch of you until you can’t handle it anymore and you fall back on the cushions. Your chest heaves, and he stands up. His lips swollen, his chin covered in you, and he snaps the buttons of his jeans, stepping out of him. You take in his entire form. The muscles on his chest, his beautiful artwork of tattoos on his arm, his chest, his belly. Your favorite one that graced his hip and up half his back. Everything about him was beautiful, and he was yours.

He fists his cock as his eyes fix on you, smiling, drunk on lust and he glides up your body, his tongue leaving a wet trail all the way to your lips. He hooks your leg around his waist, kissing you deeply, squeezing the skin above your hip. He grinds his cock against your folds, and you moan again. Your hands caress his back, his shoulders, and move down to squeeze his perfect ass. He groans against your mouth, gently biting your lip as he pulls away, his hair tickling your chin. He cups your face, the coolness of his rings send shivers down your spine and you spread your legs apart. He leans back on his heels, licking his hand and rubbing his cock. He lines up with your entrance, and slowly pushes himself inside you.

Your eyes flutter close, a small whimper escaping you as you feel him stretch you out, and he groans loudly.

“Ohhhh fuuuck.” He moans, letting out a laugh. “You’re so tight, holy shit.”

He rocks his hips back and forth, watching himself go in and out of you. You felt wild, feral, and it felt like sparks of electricity coursing through your blood stream. You moan loud, pushing his ass into you with your hands.

“Fuck me baby.” You groan out, and a low growl rumbles in his chest. He rolls his hips, fucking you so hard the hinges in the couch squeaked loudly. You bring your hand up to his mouth, he sucks your fingers and groans. You take your hand away, gliding it down to his ass, squeezing his cheek. A guttural sound escapes him as you insert your finger into his ass and his eyes flutter close, his thrusts getting a little sloppy before he collects himself and fucks into you.

“Fuuuuck.” He moans. “You dirty girl, I forgot about this.”

“How could you?” You whisper erotically and push your finger deeper, your finger hitting his prostate and a hot gasp escapes his lips. His head falls back as he rams into you, he grips your thighs hard, leaving beautiful little bruises. You remove your finger, arching your hips, screaming as he gets deeper.

“Right there, baby, don’t stop, fuuuuck, don’t stop.” You whine.

“Cum again for me baby.” He groans. “Unnnnghhh, fuck! I wanna feel that pussy cum.” He cups both of your breasts, pinching your erect nipples. A sound so pornographic escape you as he continues to slam his cock into you. He leans down, bringing his nipple in your mouth and sucking, groaning as he could feel his own orgasm building.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck.” You moan, inhaling a whiney gasp. “Oh god baby, oh fuck…I’m cumming…I’m cumming…”

You let out a scream, moaning in his ear, your nails scrape down his back, drawing a little blood and a broken moan escapes him as he cums with you, burying his face in your chest. The sounds from the both of you echo off the walls, your entire body shook, the tingles in your lower belly continue as he keeps rolling his hips into you, getting every last bit of him inside you. You swallow a lump, holding his head to your chest as he trembles, both of your chests heaved with erotic violence, and you were both dripping with sweat. He lifts his face to look into your eyes, his lips were swollen, his face flushed, and he grins, completely fucked out. You kiss his lips gently, curling your fingers through his hair and he slides out of you, laying his cheek back down on your chest.

“I can’t feel my legs.” You laugh, kissing the top of his head, swallowing hard again. “Good thing he sleeps through the night.”

“I could use a shower.” Eddie mutters into your chest, his forehead damp.

“Mmmm, me too.” You say, closing your eyes and you smile. “Crazy what a whole year can bring. Imagine if we never told each other how we felt.”

“Nope.” He says, his hair tickling your chest as he shakes his head. “I could never. You and Hunter are my life now. I can’t imagine my life without either one of you.” He meets your eyes, resting his chin on your chest, his dimples so prominent as he smiles.

You rub his cheek gently. “I couldn’t imagine it either. I’m happy you fucked yourself up in the mud that day.”

He laughs and kisses your lips. “I’m happy you didn’t leave me there.”

There is a thing about love stories. It’s ever changing, it’s growing. Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s hard. The thing about you and Eddie, you were more than just lovers, you were partners, in everything and anything you did. Two years after the birth of Hunter, you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl and named her Amelia Grace Munson. She completed your little family. As Hunter grew, he looked more like Eddie. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, he had Eddie’s eye shape and his curly locks. He even acted like him, and it was hysterical to watch the frustration coming from Eddie when Hunter would give sass back to him, and Eddie would tell himself it was his punishment for all the stupid shit he did as a kid, but they were best friends. Eddie had bought Hunter a drum kit when he was six years old, and you both were amazed at how quick he learned a rhythm. Amelia reminded you of your mother, even with her facial expressions. She also had Eddie’s beautiful curls; her brown hair had hints of red in it. Watching him become a girl dad was the sweetest thing in the world. She had learned how to paint nails, and Eddie would let her paint his nails any color she wanted. Some days they were all pink, some days there were yellow, blue and green. She even painted his toenails black. She was a wonderful singer; she had learned all Corroded Coffin’s songs when she was around ten and when the boys from the band would come visit, they would all play in the garage. When Massachusetts became the first state to legalize same sex marriage in 2004, Robin and her partner Maria, moved to Boston and you kept your promise. You officiated their wedding, almost choking on your tears, but the ceremony was the most beautiful thing you had ever been a part of. Steve was Robin’s best man, and he was expecting his third child with his wife Michelle. Eddie was the best man at Dustin’s wedding, he had married Suzie on a beautiful winter day.

Your kids knew everything about your mother, you made sure of it. They would ask you questions about her, ask to see pictures. Amelia had told you one day that she was pretty sure your mother was a fairy tale princess, and when she was old enough to have children, she would tell them those stories.

Wayne had gotten sick in 2010; Eddie wanted to go back to Indiana to take care of him for however long he could, but Wayne refused. Your father ended up taking Wayne in, assisting him with doctor’s appointments, and had hospice care set up when it was time. Eddie, you and the kids all said goodbye to Wayne on March 18th 2011. He had died peacefully in his bed, holding Eddie’s hand as he silently cried, thanking him for the life he had given him. Your father had passed away at 82, in 2019. He had no health issues, he just simply went to sleep, and didn’t wake up; you had him cremated and buried part of him with your mother. It had been years since you felt at peace being at the cemetery, but knowing your parents were together again made everything easier. You and Eddie were pushing sixty, but you would never know it. Hunter was a professional drummer, and Amelia was the singer of their band. Amelia’s voice was like Janis Joplin and Joni Mitchell; you had never seen Eddie prouder when he would be on stage with them. Yes, Eddie still played Sweetheart, the old girl still had her voice. The only difference with Eddie in his age was the color of his hair; he still kept it long, it still held its beautiful curls, but now it was a beautiful dark gray. He was still one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. He also had a full tattoo sleeve on his other arm, as well as a throat tattoo. Hunter was the spitting image of his father, his hair wasn’t long, but it still held those beautiful curls. His entire body was covered in tattoos. He was the funniest person you knew; him and Eddie would get into silly arguments with each other that would always end with one of them laughing hysterically. They were the perfect duo. In a month, him and his wife Lena were going to make you and Eddie grandparents for the first time. To a little girl. Lena was like another daughter to you both; her and Hunter met in kindergarten and had become best friends. They went through everything together, and Hunter finally admitted his feelings when they were in their early twenties. Sound familiar? Amelia was strikingly beautiful; her hair had turned a beautiful auburn color as she got older, and it was all the way down to her waist. She was beautiful inside and out, she had a kind heart and a wit about her, you swore she was an old soul. She was an all-around daddy’s girl, the two of them would stay up late writing songs together in the garage. She was dating a kind girl named Kathryn; just the other day, Kathryn had asked you and Eddie permission to marry her. Of course, you both said yes. Every day you and Eddie fell more and more in love with each other. It was always something new with the two of you, and you couldn’t have chosen a better person to live this life with you. The two of you had sat out on porch, a book laid across your lap, Eddie had his reading glasses on, scribbling in a notebook, adding lyrics to a song Amelia had written. You had your leg draped over his lap and had glanced over at him, he meets your eyes, smiling, his dimples still prominent as ever, and he winks at you.

You lean over to kiss his lips softly, and he grins against your lips.

“Even after all these years, you still manage to give me butterflies.” He says, sweetly to you.

“Are you sure it’s not a diverticulitis flare up?” You both laugh, cupping his cheek and kissing him again. “I love you.”

“I know.” He smiles at you, wrapping his arm around you, kissing the top of your head.

For so many years after the death of your mother; it felt so challenging to navigate the grief into your life. You didn’t want to continue with it most days, you wanted the grief to just stop, but eventually, you let the grief stay awhile. Grief was a part of you, and for so long you hated it. But now, you love that part of you. It lets you know that you’re human, that you know how to love, and to love hard.

And, you realize, it wasn’t the end of all things.

It was the beginning of everything.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

thank you so much for reading this series and being apart of this journey with me! I honestly didn't think this would blow up like it did. I appreciate all of you so much. Don't worry, I got a few ideas up my sleeve so you will be getting more of our boy Eddie. Maybe some fantasy, horror, one shots, who knows?! ;) I love you all, thank you so much for reading.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort

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