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all-theimaginess · 2 years

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This was so good!! <3 I loved the build-up and everything about this so much!

princess

Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: As Dustin's older sister, you gotta keep your eye out for the good and bad influences in his life. When he meets Eddie Munson and joins Hellfire, it's a damn fight to keep your mouth shut about Eddie's clear reputation. Eddie, though, doesn't hold back from bringing up your perfect, pristine one.

Warnings: nsfw content, lots of fluff and flirting, eddie just being a bubbly fun tease most of the time; eddie calls the reader princess a lot, soft eddie being cute, lots of kissing, mentions of smoking, grinding, nipple play, fingering, and protected sex.

Word Count: 11k

A/N: This is my first ever Eddie fic, please bear with me. I'm still trying to figure out how to write his character and I promise later fics will have substantially more warnings.

(i have also only watched seasons 1 & 4 of the show. im sorry.)

Also a seriously big thank you to @meliapis for giving me this idea!! Go read all her stuff, it's fantastic. Seriously, thank you so much :)

Creating an image of a person was a very conflicting concept when you received drastically different testimonies about who they are as people. A freaky cultist who worships satan—or an imaginative dungeon master who’s the existence of amusing chaos. A few things you knew were true from your own time at Hawkins High: Eddie Munson wasn’t a good influence.

Drugs, alcohol, proprietor of bad grades. Man was on his third attempt at his senior year. Sure, you didn’t outright hate him since he did keep Dustin entertained. And Dustin did give Eddie his Dustin Seal of Approval. But that didn’t mean you had to like the guy.

He was everything you stood against—the three previously mentioned aspects associated with his character? Not you. You had to be as straight as an arrow to help provide a vibrant future for Dustin. Especially with all the shit that happens in Hawkins. You weren’t going to be the reason he didn’t succeed.

Damn well wasn’t going to let Munson do that either.

First time you met him, it was when your mother had instructed you to drop Dustin, Mike, and Lucas off for their first “Hellfire” session. Eddie may have had Dustin’s seal, but she wanted yours too. Walking inside, despite the trio's protests, was…a lot. Lots of mood-setting lighting, a throne made for the king—or, in Eddie’s case, the Dungeon Master. And he was sitting right on it.

Technically, the first time you’d met was back before you graduated, but you were so focused on school you never paid him any mind. He was the kid you talked to in order to get yourself into trouble—so you just…avoided him. It wasn’t like you ran in the same crowds anyway.

His hair was a little longer, but he looked relatively the same. Dark wavy hair, jean vest, leather jacket, probably ripped black pants—he was still sitting down so you couldn’t see—and he probably had the same wallet chain he wore when you were still going there. A new set of rings adorned his fingers, though.

“Sorry, Eddie, our mom has required that my sister scopes the damn place out.” Dustin gave you a bit of an annoyed look, and you just smiled an innocent smile. You weren’t aiming to embarrass Dustin, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t do it. The threat went unsaid, and Dustin laughed mockingly.

Eddie’s dark eyes locked on yours from behind his screen–a sticker of a skull with horns on one section–and there was a flicker of amusement.

“Aw, they sent Princess Henderson down to make sure I wasn’t being a terrible, horrible, no-good influence.” Eddie cocked his head to the side, matching an amused version of your smile.

“Princess?” You raised your brows and folded your arms over your chest. “But yes, they did, Munson.”

“Don’t worry, princess. Henderson’s in good care here.” Eddie pursed his lips and scratched his chin. There was hardly any hesitation before he gave you a wide grin. “Well, so long as his teammates don’t fuck up. Then he is.”

“Haha.” You pointed at Dustin. “Trusting you, alright? Don’t do anything dumb. Hey, you two, too. Mike, Lucas. Make smart choices.”

They waved you off, but you stole a final glance in. The backlighting behind Eddie caught your eye first, illuminating around him like—and you blamed the ridiculous satanic-themed articles and the club's wonderful name—flames. But then your focus shifted to him for just a brief second. He’d managed to shrug off his coat and you could see a bit of ink on his forearm. Eddie caught your gaze before the door shut, and he wiggled his eyebrows, grinning wickedly as he sat back. He rested his chin in his hand as he bit his lip.

You ignored the desire to flip him the bird. You weren't that immature, even if he was being a coy little shit. And princess? He made your blood boil. But so long as he wasn’t actively being a bad influence, you’d give your stamp of approval. Dustin liked him, Dustin had fun. That’s what counted.

So you put Eddie out of your thoughts and let Dustin have the club.

Until the idiot forgot a folder with an assignment he needed for class.

It was a few weeks after he’d joined Hellfire, and in that time, you’d managed to avoid thinking, seeing, or talking about Eddie. Except for the occasional mention of him when your mom brought up the club. You pointedly made no comment—Dustin getting the clear image as to why—but he never pressed the topic.

He already knew the answer: you and Eddie were total opposites, and opposites would never get along.

It’s an ill-timed drop-off. You had to work an extra early morning shift at the diner, but it meant you were able to swing home and grab the folder before Dustin had his class. It did, however, mean you were walking into Hawkins High around his lunchtime. So you had to walk those annoying familiar halls and push through the crowds to find your little brother.

Except Dustin didn’t exactly stand out when he was mixed into a sea of students. Someone else, however, did. And he was sitting at the end of a table with his damn jean vest and leather jacket on, arms thrown behind his head. As carefree as he could be. And for a moment, you contemplated just trying to find Dustin in the crowd. But Eddie’s eyes were scanning the lunchroom, and it took all of a few seconds before they landed on you, and his smile widened.

You bit the bullet.

“Well, princess, what brings you back to Hawkins High?” Eddie lowered his hands and sarcastically batted his lashes. “Aiming for valedictorian this time?”

“Dustin forgot this. Mind giving it to him?” You held out the folder, and Eddie just looked at it.

“You don’t want to wait for dear little brother?”

"You'll have to forgive me. I'm a little tired." You motioned to the uniform you hadn't managed to change out of. "Been up since four. Desperate for a nap. Can you give Dustin the folder, please?"

“Sure, princess.” Eddie snatched it out of your hands and thumbed through the contents. He shimmied his shoulders and scrunched his nose as he looked back up. “Since you said please.”

“Great.” You gave him the most annoyed thumbs up you could manage. “Appreciate it.”

You turned, not caring to be back in the place you disdained so much with someone who made you want to wring their neck. It was a fight not to glance back, though. Eddie’s eyes were scorching on you—a feeling that made your chest feel tight, and you just shook your head. The dick was getting in your head.

So you kept him and his subjectively nice smile out of it.

And that worked all fine and dandy until a storm raged through Hawkins, and your mother instructed you to pick the trio up from Hellfire. You couldn’t be mad about it, considering the thunder was shaking the sides of the car and the rain was making it nearly impossible to see. But it didn’t mean you liked it. You didn’t like anything about having to go pick them up.

They weren't outside yet. That meant the club either wasn't over yet, or it was, and they were hanging out inside until the storm passed, not knowing you were there. You tried the walkie, but as neglectful as you and Dustin tried to avoid being, the batteries were dead. So you stared out the windshield at the door leading inside. Waiting could mean waiting for over an hour, and you weren't about to do that in the car while it stormed.

Getting out during it wasn’t any better. And that meant you’d get wet.

But you really didn’t want to wait if you didn’t have to. Not when the thunder sounded like it was getting louder. It almost seemed like it was purposefully trying to target you–and the walls of the school felt safer than those of your mom’s car. So you made a run for it, nearly slipping on the concrete as you rushed inside.

Somewhat drenched, you dried your feet on a rug and headed towards the room Dustin had brought you to last time. Even if you hadn’t remembered, it was the only one in the hall that had sound coming from it. You hung around outside for a few minutes, waiting to try and figure out whether they were still playing or if they were just hanging around. Another roll of thunder made your nails dig into your palms hard enough that you finally pulled the door open.

Eddie whistled when you poked your head in, a few drops of water falling from your hair.

“Caught in the storm, princess?”

“Dustin.” It came out a little more stern than you intended, and his eyes went to the windows where lightning flashed outside. You made an effort not to flinch.

“Five minutes?” He gave you puppy dog eyes.

“Five minutes.”

You avoided looking at Eddie as you closed the door and pressed your back against the wall. A few deep breaths helped, but only barely. And those five minutes were taking too long to pass, so you went first to the water fountain, then the bathroom to try and judge how horrible you looked from the few seconds in the storm, and then back out to the water fountains.

There was more thunder and lightning as you bent over the fountain, and you closed your eyes. Another slow breath before you got a sip and swallowed. There was a brief calming second before you stood and wiped the back of your mouth. Except where it'd been empty beside you before, a long-haired Dungeon Master was standing there with his hands in his pockets.

You jumped hard and yelped, stumbling back enough to where Eddie had to reach out and catch you.

"Woah there, princess. Just wanted to tell you the kids are getting their things. They'll be out in a sec." His hands lingered on your shoulders for a brief second as he righted you. They were hot through the thin fabric, and you could feel the thick mental of his rings. Rings that must've felt weird when holding hands.

But you pushed that idea out as soon as you had it—holding hands with Eddie? Not for you. Nope. No need to dwell on that idea.

In an attempt to change the subject, especially for your subconscious, you cleared your throat and didn’t wait for Eddie’s hands to move.

“What’s with the princess thing, really?” You couldn’t help but notice that Eddie only moved his hands once you finished speaking. “Haven’t let up on that one since we met.”

"Technically, we did attend school together. Just never crossed paths." He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers while smirking. He leaned forward, close enough to smell the mixture of cigarette smoke, weed, and a hint of whatever soap he used. "But princess? That's 'cause you're Princess Perfect. Everything's gotta be pristine for you. Hawkins' own little goody two shoes."

Your brows pinched–the dick thought you were Princess Perfect? Seriously? Yeah, you aimed for perfect grades and never really strayed from the expected path, but that was for Dustin.

"I'm not a goody two shoes." You were trying to sound stern, but it came off a little defensive, and Eddie leaned back, rolling onto his heels.

“Sorry, princess, you are. Thems the rules. I think I have a pretty decent say as to what qualifies as that, considering I’m—”

“The exact opposite?” You gave him a tight smile. “You’ll have to forgive me for caring about my grades and trying to be a good influence on Dustin. We can’t all afford to be on our third attempt at graduating.”

"Oh, ouch." His laugh was playful, his smile too, and that little twisting was back in your chest. With the added symptom of a racing heart and a pang in your gut. You weren't Princess Perfect. Were you? "You've wounded me."

You were fixing to respond when another loud crash of thunder shook the school, and you flinched, cursing under your breath. Running a hand over your face blocked you from having to meet Eddie’s gaze, one you knew would be mocking. And when you didn’t immediately look at him, he nudged you softly.

“Y’know, I got just the thing to take the edge off if you want. Could really help with the storm.”

“You’re funny, Eddie.”

“Never said I was joking, princess.” He gave you a curious look, obviously seeing if you’d take the bait. But you’d gone this long without getting high—you weren’t about to be a hypocrite and break your rules now. A little softer, he added, “really, it’ll help.”

The halls of the school were barely lit, but somehow his eyes looked soft. Tender would be too kind of a word—you and Eddie weren’t close enough for tender. You only knew his last name because you went to school together. Plus, it was kind of hard not to when Dustin was throwing it around at home more often lately.

Granted, you knew him from his reputation. And it wasn’t like you were Princess Perfect.

But that didn’t mean you were going to let Eddie off the hook from one strange attempt at being sweet.

"Gonna have to pass, Munson." The door behind him opened, and you heard the guys start to exit. A small ache in your chest pushed the next words out a tad unexpectedly, "I appreciate it, though."

“Hey, if you change your mind?” He shrugged and took a few steps back, eyes dropping down over you from head to toe. “You know where to find me, princess.”

“Unfortunately,” you murmured, watching him leave.

Dustin had to call your name to kick you into gear, making you jingle the keys at him before heading out. He unlocked the car for you before you went, leaving you to stand next to Eddie as he watched the guys scramble in.

“Got a whole system for it?” He nudged your arm with his elbow. “Dustin’s a good dude.”

“Just get home safe, Munson. The guys will be pissed if you don’t.” Once your car door was unlocked and you gave half a second for thunder or lightning to make an appearance, you sprinted out to the car.

Silently praying you wouldn’t fall on your ass with Eddie watching, you jumped into the driver’s seat and shook your head, feeling the rain drip off you.

“Alright, let’s get you guys home.”

Saying the next few days went smoothly would be a lie. You couldn't get Eddie's stupid face out of your head. His words, too. Stuck in there like glue, sneaking to the front of your thoughts when you least expected. Like when you were working, and you were refilling a cup of coffee–those damn brown eyes all soft and that devilish smirk sneaking in without warning.

Or the little lean he did towards you in the hallway. The feeling of his hands on your shoulders was also frustrating. He was frustrating. He wasn’t even there and he was frustrating. That dumbass.

You were spared having to see him for a total of two days before your shift was accidentally switched with a coworker's. So instead of working mornings—like you had specified when applying—they had you coming in for the night shifts. Granted, the place didn't stay open past midnight, but working closing was not the crowd you enjoyed. Serving drunks and delinquents wasn't your thing. You could handle the early risers who called you sweetie and honey and reacted to your perfected customer service smile with their own semi-genuine one.

The night crowd was the opposite. They grunted when you asked them a yes or no question.

And some of the delinquents ended up being Eddie and his band, his eyes widening and brightening the moment he saw you in uniform. He wasn't even trying to hide his smile, sauntering and sitting down at a table his friends had chosen. Right in your damn section—although that didn't matter much. In about an hour, it'd all be your section after the only other server left.

“My goodness, what is pretty little Princess Henderson doing here so late?” Eddie leaned forward, dropping his chin into his hands. “Miss us so much you started working nights?”

"Yeah, Dustin's the one who's into your club and hanging out with you guys. I'm just the driver." You opened your notepad. "So, drinks?"

Eddie gave you a look that said boo, but otherwise kept silent.

Each sounded off their order, Eddie's head canting to the side as he watched you scribble down on the little notepad. You looked at him expectantly when he hadn't said anything to you. Instead of answering, he perused the menu like he'd never seen one before.

"I do have other tables, you know. Drunks or not, I gotta serve them, Munson. Pick a drink, or I'm picking one for you."

Eddie's eyes shifted up and he grinned wide. "Oh, I'm very curious what that would entail. Go on, pick for me."

“Fine.” You grinned a tight grin and turned on your heels. “Gets me outta the conversation faster anyways.”

You gave him a mixture of sodas. Wasn't too bad—somewhere along the line Dustin had made you try it while he was creating different concoctions. But it was definitely a shock to the system when you weren't expecting it. And it was just that with Eddie, making him cough a bit as he took the first sip, a slight hue of pink covering his cheeks.

Now that was a sight you weren’t prepared for: Eddie blushing while letting out a burst of proud giggles.

“Unexpected. Nice, princess.” He nodded at the cup. “Question, if I came in the morning, would you have served me that?”

“No, the managers actually care in the morning.” You rolled your shoulders and clicked your pen. “It’s more relaxed at night. But doesn’t matter—what are you guys going to eat?”

It took about twenty minutes for their assortment of dishes to come out, making it easy to bring to the table since each one was staggered. The fear that you'd drop the food in front of Eddie simmered away and being replaced by dropping just one of the plates because of those nerves. Somehow you managed, deciding to purposefully avoid Eddie's table as they ate. Instead, you tended to the rest of your six customers, two of which were passed out drunk with a cold cup of coffee in front of them.

Eddie lingered when his group eventually finished, watching you clear the table as he leaned against the side of the booth. He held up a ten-dollar bill, and you looked at him skeptically.

"I'd say it's for the wonderful service, but I'm still in awe you'd break the rules for me."

“What are you talking about?” You still snatched the ten from him, pocketing it as he chuckled.

"The drink. Such a small thing but still unexpected." He folded his arms over his chest and tipped his chin up. "I see why you avoid me now. Just a few interactions, and I'm already corrupting Princess Perfect."

You wiped the table down and dropped the rag in the bucket. Pushing your shoulders back, you stepped a little closer to Eddie. He smelled like the coffee his friend had gotten, pancakes and syrup too. He didn’t blink as you leaned in to whisper.

“Munson, you couldn’t corrupt me even if you tried.”

That constant amusement that Eddie always had in his eyes deepened and he cocked his head to the side.

“That a challenge, princess?”

The unsaid words he held in his gaze threw you, and you realized you hadn't responded. Nor had you stepped back. Only a few inches stayed between you as Eddie waited, but you were too fixated on too many things at once to formulate a clever response. The way your breathing had increased, your heart rate too. The way the blush slowly faded from Eddie's cheeks but his smile had widened. How your focus accidentally, for just a hot second, dropped to Eddie's mouth.

That’s when you turned, praying that he hadn’t noticed.

“No, it’s a statement. A fact.” You cleared your throat, your own cheeks burning hot. “Can’t do what I’m not interested in.”

"Mhm." Eddie nodded. "You work any more nights after this?"

“Why? Trying to figure out when to come and bother me?”

“Something like that.”

You peered back over at him, and he looked serious—about as serious as you'd ever seen Eddie look. He was still smiling a little teasing smile.

“Next four days,” you responded for some unknown reason. Even Eddie looked surprised by it, too.

“Then I will see you later, princess.”

"Yeah. Uh-huh."

You stole a glance as he left, sauntering out to his massive car. There was no way Eddie was going to come back the next four days. Three of which were school nights. And Eddie may not have been as responsible as you, but he looked like the type of guy who liked to sleep. Although he also seemed like the type to choose sleep over school.

You made absolutely zero mention to Dustin about Eddie showing up at your work. And when he didn't say anything about it after school the next day, it meant Eddie hadn't either. Which was either a potentially good thing—Eddie knew you weren't his biggest fan and him showing up to bug you could cause a weird thing with his relationship with Dustin. Or it could mean Eddie was actually concocting ways to try and, as he said, "corrupt" you. And telling Dustin could interfere with that.

Probably the latter.

It was the latter.

Eddie was back the next night, his friends there again too. Same table, same drink order. Down to Eddie telling you to bring him another new drink mix. You brought him water—that of which he was sorely ashamed of and booed you as you left to top off someone else’s coffee.

When you came back, Eddie had lit up a cigarette and handed it to you.

"Care for a puff?" He held it out, and you really hated that your first thought was how Eddie's lips had been on the thing.

“Take it outside, Munson.” Your restaurant was openly okay with smoking indoors. Didn’t mean you were.

“Will you take a puff then?” He stood up, not giving you time to back up, and your chests nearly touched. “C’mon, princess, just one.”

“There’s absolutely zero incentive for me to do so, you do realize that? Simply offering me something out of my comfort zone has absolutely no appeal to me.” You clicked your pen. “Do better, Munson.”

He couldn't—at least not for that night. He left with a promise, though. When he came back, he'd have something. He gave no clue as to what it'd be, but he'd have something.

Technically, it wasn't him who had the idea when he and his friends came back the next night. You groaned when they came in, all smiling and waving at you. Even the cook gave you a knowing look, and you just shook your head.

"Eddie has promised that he won't say a word the whole time if you'll break a rule," one of them said.

“Oh, Munson,” you cooed, leaning towards him as he pinched his mouth shut and smiled. “Now that’s a good one.”

You grabbed a chair—which was already breaking a rule at the diner—and Eddie cocked his brow as you sat down in it. You leaned forward and put your hand on his shoulder, giving him a little shake.

"That's the best possible incentive you could come up with. I love it." You slapped his cheek playfully—warm and soft under your palm. "So I'll break policy just this once. I’ll comp your meal, Munson. But they get to pick it.”

You could see the dread in his eyes as you turned your attention to his friends. And boy did they have fun with it. They got the ill-famed steak that was never cooked well, drizzled with raspberry jam and the gravy served with the biscuits. A side of overcooked hash browns and a mixture of every single soda you had available to drink. But Eddie held his tongue, looking at you like he was plotting your demise. Even if this had been his whole idea.

The look deepened when you plopped the plate onto the table and the whole group—minus him, of course—recoiled with different disgusted reactions. Eddie drummed his fingers on the table a few times before picking up his silverware and cutting at the tar-like steak. You almost felt bad—no, you did feel a bit bad—but the immediate reaction to the first bite was worth it.

It was a visible effort not to spit it out. And then he had to chew it a little too long. The crunch of the hash browns that followed was the cherry on top of the sundae. The sip of the horrible drink mix like a sprinkle of jimmies.

He slammed his hand down on the table as he swallowed his bite.

"Taste good? I'll let the chef know it's your favorite. He can serve it to you each time you come in. You don't even have to remember the order—he's got a good memory like that." You leaned over Eddie, hand on his shoulder sliding back under his hair and down his back. "Say nothing if you want me to tell the chef."

Eddie just sighed. And dropped his head back, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

"Great. Well, enjoy your meal, guys."

You left, once again feeling Eddie’s eyes on you. A feeling you were getting strangely used to.

They finished before the end of the hour, and you earned a hot tip from all of them. Even Eddie, who looked like he was going to linger until he remembered your deal. He licked his lips when you smiled teasingly over at him, and he sucked in his cheeks, clearly plotting.

But there was too much guilt knowing he had barely managed to stomach half of the dish, so you called his name as he turned, and he came to a halt.

You handed him a paper to-go bag, and he cocked a brow as he took it.

"Something actually edible."

When he pursed his lips before giving you a slight bow, you figured that was his silent version of thank you. But then he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into a hug.

It wasn’t a long one, but it pulled you flush against him, his arm wrapping around your waist. So sudden that you softly yelped as he pulled you in, and you could really smell his…pine scented, maybe…soap under the hell that’d been the food he’d been served.

But he moved back as soon as he'd pulled you in, shooting you a quick wink as he backed out the front door, holding the bag up as a final silent thank you. He left you standing breathlessly in the middle of the diner as someone grunted out for a refill on their coffee.

Eddie Munson just hugged you and you liked every second of it.

And you damn well couldn't stop thinking about it.

When he and his group came back the next night, you were too wired for any sort of game. His group offered to do it again, but you felt like if you said yes, that meant comping another meal—and you’d already done that twice with both of Eddie’s last meals—because that was the easiest rule to break. And if you did that, it meant Eddie wouldn’t talk to you, so if you felt guilty again and gave him another meal, he’d hug you again.

And he could catch on that you didn't hate the hug if you let that happen. So you didn't. Making it easier, you decided to keep it professional as you did during your morning shifts. Still playful enough that the group wouldn't notice, but you barely let the conversation drift to anything besides ordering when you talked to Eddie.

He picked up on it quickly. And he followed you back to where you had to go behind the counter to help another customer. Standing just outside the small gate, his smile a dangerous threat that he’ll follow you back there if you don’t give him a few moments of attention.

“Go back to your table, Munson.” You frowned at him, keeping the inch and a half of gate between you. “Employees only.”

“I get you in trouble with that stunt yesterday, princess?”

“No.” You leaned against the thick plastic. “But if I comp two more meals, I will get in trouble. And as much as I’d love to shut you up when you’re here, I can’t risk that.”

“Two meals? You telling me you’d feed me again?”

“If your friends made another horrendous meal, yes. I do have a conscience, you know.”

“Oh, I am well aware of that fact.” He put his hands beside yours on the gate and leaned forward. His thumbs brushed your pinkies and it sent a bolt of electricity through you. One that doubled in power when he leaned forward, close enough to feel his breath on your cheek. His tone was cheeky, but his whisper drew out a bit of hoarseness in his voice. “Wouldn’t be such a good girl if you didn’t.”

You lingered like that for a few seconds longer than either of you should’ve. It was another customer calling you over that pulled you away, back down at the other end of the counter. But when you started towards her and peered back at Eddie, he was still standing there watching you, mouth pressed into a tight smile.

Eddie didn’t stay after they paid this time. Just gently nudged your arm and thanked you for the service. With an added princess tacked onto the end, of course. As he went out the door, he called, “see you tomorrow.”

The thing about Eddie was even if you put your own skewed idea of who he was aside, he was still Dustin's friend. And if your feelings towards Eddie got even remotely complicated, it could complicate his friendship with your brother. You weren't going to fuck that up for Dustin—not when he looked up to Eddie so much.

But your feelings had already gotten a little complicated. So you had to get rid of them. Shove them down, ignore them, pretend they weren't there. Which was fairly easy to do when you were able to distract yourself with chores before the day started. Drop the car at the shop for its routine service, tidy your room, pump up a tire on your bike before going into work. Completely forget to check the weather and cursing the humidity as you locked your bike up outside.

It worked well. Until you got to work and the minutes ticked down to when Eddie and his gang might show up. Except those minutes ticked and ticked away, continuing to do so as the end of your shift got closer. And you started to worry the scene you kept playing over and over in your head of you two standing at the gate, hands just barely touching, mouths dangerously close, wasn’t just plaguing you. And just because it made your heart race and a coil in your stomach tighten, didn’t mean it did the same in Eddie’s.

Then he walked in an hour and a half before closing. Alone.

“Hey, princess,” he cooed, sitting down at the counter.

You turned around, biting back the excitement you felt when you saw him sitting there.

"No gang today?" You sat down a mug and poured him a cup of coffee—a subconscious habit from everyone else who sat at the counter at night. He didn't turn it away, though.

"Nah." He drummed his fingers, and you watched the lights flicker on his silver rings. "Just me tonight, princess."

You plopped the notepad onto the counter and leaned over it, head in your hand. You hovered the pen over it and glanced up at him with—and you tried not to—a semi-flirty look. It was really hard to not do it when he was looking at you with his big brown eyes and had that cheeky smile. Or when all you could hear on repeat was him calling you a good girl and there was the phantom feeling of his hands next to yours.

“Well, then. What can I get you to eat, Eddie?”

Pancakes, eggs, sausage, toast, and hash browns. Two cups of coffee. Unlike before with his friends, where he could inhale the food, he took his time eating. Staying for around forty minutes, stealing you away from customers to insist that the food was delicious, even offering you a few bites.

Each time you turned him down and reminded him that you did, in fact, work there. You knew exactly how the food tasted. And it wasn’t that good. But you let him have it. You let him linger around for a few minutes at the end, entertaining him just sitting there and watching as you picked up his plates and wiped down the counter.

“You know you paid, right?”

“Shit, that must be why my wallet feels so much lighter. Genius, princess, genius.” He leaned forward, not caring that the counter was still damp. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

That got you directly in the chest and you almost dropped the rag.

“Night, Eddie,” you said softly, cheeks burning as Eddie smirked. He tapped the counter twice before jumping up and sauntering outside, his hair bouncing with each step.

You barely heard the thunder as the door shut, heart hammering just as loud in your chest.

It was pouring by the time you clocked out. Downpouring, heavy, frustrating rain. With stupid thunder and lightning. You bit your lip as you glanced outside the windows. You had two options: bike home—which was the only viable one—or ask the chef for a ride home. And you weren’t remotely close enough with him to do that.

You winced as it thundered again and it cracked along the sky as a bolt of lightning followed. The idea of riding a metal bike home in the storm was the least appealing thing you could think of. But you couldn't even delay the inevitable. You were rushed out the door with the chef. At least the building had awnings covering the sidewalk to the back of the building, where you managed to stay somewhat dry.

You stopped cold in your tracks when you rounded the corner, spotting a familiar jean vest and dark jacket combo as he puffed on the end of a cigarette.

“Hey, princess,” he whispered, pushing up from leaning on the building. He stomped the cigarette out and peered up at the sky. “Want a ride home?”

When you didn’t answer right away, Eddie turned his focus to you. He slid his hands into his pockets almost shyly and stepped back, making himself comfortable against the building. Exactly how he’d just been.

"How'd you know?" You took a step forward and motioned towards your bike, very aware that you hadn't said no.

“Didn’t see you parked in your usual spot. Bike out back was new, too. Took a guess.” He shrugged.

“You finished your meal like an hour ago, Eddie.” There was no way he stood outside waiting for you this whole time. It was either that or the alternative—he came back for you. Both of which were way too much to handle as thunder rolled again.

“Really like to savor my smoke breaks.” He tilted his head to the side. “So, what do you say, princess? Biking back or risking being seen with the town freak?”

“You already know the answer, Eddie.” You nodded towards his car and Eddie smirked.

Eddie shrugged off his vest and coat, throwing the latter your way as you unlocked your bike.

“Makeshift umbrella,” he said as if you should’ve immediately known what him giving you his jacket meant. “Now stay here a sec.”

He yelped playfully as he pulled out his keys and ran into the rain. His car wasn’t parked far, but it was raining hard enough that he was already getting soaked. He opened his hatch, first, then his passenger door. Once that was wide open, he waved you forward and you bit your lip before sprinting towards him.

His hands went to your waist as he helped you in, closing the door firmly behind you.

As you got situated in his very interesting smelling van, he went back for your bike and chucked it into the back of his car. He cursed as he jumped into the driver's seat, shaking his head like a wet dog and grinning madly, taking out the handkerchief he kept in his back pocket and wiping his face. His grin stayed as he peered over at you, curled up in his coat, only half as soaked as he was, and he nudged you.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s get you home.”

It was cold. And it should've been hard to be cold as Eddie blasted his music and nodded his head to the beat. His hands banged against his steering wheel occasionally, just as occasionally as when he stole glances your way. But his AC was on and it was blowing freezing air on you. Even wrapping up in his jacket didn't do much, and it took you nudging him and pointing at his AC for him to get the gist.

You did get to learn something from that, though. Even with the rings, it felt really damn nice to hold his hand.

As soon as he flicked the AC off, he muttered an apology you couldn't hear over the music and his hand went over to yours. An ill attempt at warming you up, but for all intents and purposes, it worked. As soon as his fingers laced through yours—and he made it abundantly clear he wasn't going to let go until you stopped shivering—your body flushed with heat.

Although even when you did stop shivering, Eddie didn't move his hand. It stayed there until he pulled into your driveway, and he flicked off the music before he turned the car off.

"Go open the garage. I'll get your bike."

You did just as he said, sprinting from the car and getting the garage opened as fast as you could. Above you, a light flickered on and Eddie came running in from the storm after slamming his hatch shut. He shook his head again, still grinning, soaked all the way through his clothes as he sat your bike to the side.

“Thanks,” you murmured, eyes dragging over how his shirt stuck firmly to his body. “I appreciate the ride home.”

“A thank you for the food after the awful steak you guys fed me.” He shook his head, face twisting in disgust. “Worst thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“So worth it on my end. Shut you up for a bit. Didn’t have to hear you call me princess.” You shrugged his jacket off and tossed it to him.

“Come on, you love it.” He leaned forward, slightly closing the gap between you. “Don’t yah, princess?”

"Yeah, sure, Eddie." You should've turned to go inside, but your feet were glued in place. It was kind of hard to take your eyes off Eddie when he looked like that—soaked to the bone, smirking madly, eyes glinting. "You got me. I love it. Totally."

“You would’ve told me to fuck off already if you didn’t. Same with the rule breaking, too.” His hands slid into his very tight pockets. “Come on, admit it, breaking the rules a bit was fun.”

“Wow, look at the time. I should really be going to bed.”

Eddie didn't contest it. "Well then, goodnight my little goody two shoes."

Eddie backed up a few paces before he turned, throwing his coat over one shoulder. Goody two shoes. He was right, though. It had been a little fun breaking the rules. Granted, it was significantly more relaxed during the night shift, but it was still fun. And it was directly linked to him, whether you wanted to realize that or not.

You did. Everything linked to Eddie was a bad idea sprinkled with fun.

And you had a hankering to break the rules again.

Half to prove you weren’t this perfect little princess. Half because you couldn’t take your eyes off Eddie or ignore the way you wanted to feel his hands on your hips again.

“Eddie,” you muttered, already closing the gap.

He was just about to step out of your garage when you caught him. He turned, taking a staggering step back as you grabbed a fistful of his damp hair and jerked him towards you.

His mouth was soft against yours.

Eddie took a full ten seconds before he registered what was happening, pulling back and staring down at you with wide eyes. But it clicked, the gears in his head slowly turning, and he beamed. His hands went to your waist, mouth back on yours, pushing you back into the garage. Away from the storm raging outside.

He tasted a bit like smoke, but the way he aimed to devour you, you didn’t give a single damn. Especially not when your back pressed against the wall beside the door and Eddie pressed himself against you. He was hot under his damp shirt, the vest heavy under your hands as you moved it aside.

“Would you look at that, princess,” he murmured, breaking the kiss to kiss along your jaw. “Letting me corrupt you after all, hm?”

He dropped, hands going underneath your thighs and hoisting you from the floor. You gasped as he pressed you back against the wall, mouth back on yours, swallowing whatever sounds slipped out.

You didn’t answer, too intoxicated by his kiss. Your hands, though, they skimmed down his chest, and you broke the kiss to glance down. Where you stared at his wallet chain then his black belt and then, as he moved back and followed your gaze down, the very apparent appendage his jeans did nothing to hide.

He just about whispered your name as he looked back up, but you shut him up with a kiss. A deeper one, hands going down and fingers hooking between his belt loops first, then toying with his belt.

He went ridged enough that you thought he was going to pull back, but after a beat, a hand was coming up to your jaw and he returned the kiss with fervor.

Seemed you both were getting a bit drunk on it. And Eddie had no shame of it, moving your hands and pressing his hips firmly against yours. He rolled them a few experimental times and by the fourth one, you were tightening your thighs around him at the friction he was giving you.

The skirt of your uniform provided zero walls between him and you—all that was there were your underwear, his jeans and whatever he wore underneath. And as Eddie pushed your skirt up, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck. Just until he got the skirt up and he stole a glance down.

“Aw. Pink for the pretty princess.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

“Make me.” He grinned, his cheeks a bit pink. But the friction he was giving you with each roll of his hips shut you up.

And you were going to, you really, really were. Except in Eddie's attempt to readjust his hold on you, he managed to lose spacial awareness. And when his arm moved, he managed to hit your bike, which, when it fell, knocked over a rake, shovel, and broom. All of which clattered very, very loudly on the floor.

You both froze, and it took less than thirty seconds to hear Dustin inside the house call, "(Y/N), that you?"

“Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie sat you down, already knowing it’d be really bad if you both were caught. Dustin would be better than your mom, but Dustin would never let either of you hear the end of it.

“Eddie,” you hissed, adjusting your skirt. “Eddie, you dumbass, your jacket.”

You ran forward and picked up the leather heap, aiming to throw it at him as he skidded to a stop and nearly fell turning around. He knelt down with you to pick it up, one hand going for his jacket, the other for your cheek.

“Night, princess,” he whispered against your lips, stealing one final knee-weakening kiss.

"Night, Eddie," you breathed back, staying on the ground as he ran back out into the storm and pulled away.

Dustin opened the door to the garage just as you were standing and walking towards your fallen bike.

“Oh, good. It is you.” He nodded, half asleep.

“Go back to bed. I’ll be inside in one second. Kay?”

Dustin waved a hand before going back inside, closing the door softly behind him. You picked your bike up, then everything that had fallen in the domino effect. With your hand on the doorknob, you let out a very slow and careful sigh.

You kissed Eddie. And he more than kissed you back.

Shit, maybe he had corrupted you.

You had the next day at the diner off, and since the car wasn’t ready for pick-up yet, you spent the day mostly helping out at home. Aka, mostly replaying the whole last two hours you had with Eddie. The diner, the drive home, the kiss, his hips.

Dustin had seemed a little suspicious before school, but you were also only running on about six hours of sleep, so you could've misinterpreted it.

So you helped, you cleaned, you thought about Eddie's mouth. You cooked, and ate, and napped, dreaming about Eddie's hands and body and hips and how good you felt with each little movement of them. You took a cold shower, rearranged the garage, remembered how sweetly he'd kissed you when he came back for his jacket.

“Fuck.” You threw a towel aside, staring at the last clean dish.

You couldn’t get Eddie Munson out of your damn head.

So you shamefully let anger take over, and it lingered once Dustin got home. He asked you what was wrong, but you brushed him off. Told him to do his homework. You helped your mom cook to try and channel the frustrations, but it only ended in a quiet dinner on your behalf. Listening to Dustin and your mom talk about their days. Eddie's name came up once or twice and that was the final nail in the coffin.

You took another quick freezing shower, changed, and told them you were going out for a quick bike ride. Your mom immediately started to worry, but you just gave her your best innocent smile and said you'd be back soon. You just needed to clear your head. Dustin gave you a curious yet accusatory look, and you answered him by flicking him off.

It wasn't a far ride, but getting to Max's trailer on a bike wasn't exactly fun. It was harder to recall the directions outside of a car—at least it felt like that. But you knew Eddie lived across from her, and since he wasn't playing at The Hideout tonight and it wasn't their Hellfire night, odds were he'd be home. Felt a little weird technically knowing where he lived but not knowing a number to call, but you'd know whether or not he was there if his car was.

And if it wasn’t, well, you could still check in on Max.

But his car was there, and the lights were on inside the trailer.

You threw your bike down, marched up his steps, and banged on the door.

He opened it with expected confusion that very quickly morphed into confused amusement.

“Hey there, princess. Didn’t know you knew where I lived. Wanna come in?” He stepped aside, throwing the door closed behind you.

“A friend lives in the neighborhood. Would’ve called, but didn’t feel like asking Dustin for your number.” You folded your arms over your chest and looked around the messy trailer. Eddie just stood there smiling, holding his hands somewhat out as you studied the place.

“I feel like I should inquire why you biked all the way over to see me. But with the angry look on your face, I’m a little scared to, to be honest.”

“I don’t know which to be angry about.” You finally looked at him and he just tilted his head to the side. “Should I be pissed at myself because I broke my rules for you because you fucking goated me into breaking the rules at work? Or should I be mad at you for pushing me to do it in the first place? I’m already mad at myself for kissing you, but I’m mad at you for kissing me back.”

Eddie's eyes were wide, and he just stayed quiet.

“But I can’t be mad at you because I wanted you to kiss me back. And I can’t be mad at myself because I wanted to kiss you. So you know what, fuck you for being so likable.” You stepped closer. “You’re the worst.”

Silence rang out in the air and Eddie smiled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t know whether I should be offended or complimented.” He nodded and crossed his arms. “I prefer flattery, so let’s go with that.”

“Insufferable. You’re insufferable.” You ran your hands over your face. “Okay. That’s all I came to say.”

“(Y/N),” he cooed, hanging his head a bit as he stepped forward. “Straight answer: do you want to pretend last night didn’t happen?”

He raised his eyebrows, peering at you through his lashes, teeth capturing his bottom lip.

"I…don't know." You pressed your mouth into a fine line.

Eddi

e lolled his head from side to side and nodded.

“Okay, different question. Did you enjoy what we did?” He laughed a little and smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Actually, I already know you did based on how you were reacting. Instead, let’s try: do you want to do it again?”

“I…” You glanced away, looking at Eddie made it too difficult to answer the question. “Don’t know.”

Eddie laughed and stumbled back a bit, shaking his head and causing some of his hair to fall into his face. He pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and it was only then you realized he wasn’t wearing his jacket or vest. He peered down at his feet then over at you, his smile growing as he clearly caught you staring at his bare forearms.

“If I wanted to kiss you right now, would you let me?”

Your eyes shot up to his, and he just gave you an expectant expression. When your mouth parted, he took a step closer. Another one when you didn’t say anything. Until he closed the gap just enough for you to feel the sudden urge to have his mouth back on yours and you blurted out the answer. Even if you’d wanted to keep it to yourself.

“Yes.” You swallowed hard. “I would.”

You half expected him to just nod, turn around, and say something like, "then there's your answer, princess." But he didn't. Instead, his hands went to cup your cheeks and he pulled you into a kiss.

It wasn't as heated as the one from last night, but it damn well got there. It didn't take long for the slow, teasing kiss to spiral into gasps and moans as you pulled Eddie back towards where you were fairly certain his couch was. He guided you down, a knee between your legs as your back dropped against the cushions. An arm hooked around your waist, jerking you close as Eddie's hair tickled your neck.

He let out a little sound of surprise as you tugged his shirt up and over his head. He pulled back, looking at you like he was about to call you a minx or something, but he didn't. He just sucked in his cheeks and stripped his shirt the rest of the way off. Then he was back on you instantly, mouth trailing along your neck until he found the spot that made you dig your nails into his back.

But your hands only stayed here momentarily. Your body was burning and Eddie fucking knew it, the way he moved his hips against you told you just as much. You grabbed at him, reaching desperately to unbuckle his belt, and Eddie panicked, pushing up and giving you a different look. One that almost looked a little foreign on him.

“Hey, now, easy princess.” He smiled a little nervously. “We aren’t going to go too far with this, alright? I don’t want to make you go too fast.”

You blinked up at him, and for the first time in weeks it felt like you finally had an upper hand against him. One that was more than a poorly made steak with ill-chosen toppings.

He thought you were a virgin.

The slow smile that crept onto you gave him pause and he narrowed his eyes sharp.

“Eddie Munson,” you whispered, continuing to undo his belt. “Do you think I’m a virgin?”

It dawned on him so visibly, so viscerally that you thought he was going to sit back on his knees. But then his cheeks turned a stark red and he gave you a lopsided grin.

“There’s no fucking way you’re not.” He studied your expression. “Not little miss princess.”

“Senior year boyfriend. Broke up when he left for college.” You tilted your chin up and undid Eddie’s button and fly. “Not a virgin, Munson.”

His breath hitched as you did your best to jerk his pants down and Eddie was on the verge of laughing. Not at you or your attempt, but it was like he couldn't process the information. And damn did it feel great to watch him struggle with it.

Eddie's response ended up being a kiss. A slower one, almost teasing. He kicked his pants off, the chain jingling as they fell to the floor. And his hands were on you, untucking your shirt from your jeans, and taking his sweet time undoing your them. Not so silently relishing in the way you were staring to squirm and pant underneath him.

"Then tell me, princess, how far do you wanna go tonight?" When you lifted your arms, he pulled your shirt over your head, immediately sucking in a harsh breath before leaving kisses over your chest. He was clearly trying to show some semblance of restraint, but the lower he kissed, the heavier he was starting to breathe. His eyes were sharp when he looked back up at you, mouth hovering over your bra and he looked fucking desperate to hear your answer.

You stared at Eddie. This was breaking your rules far beyond last night. You could put a kiss behind you, forget it ever happened. You couldn't pretend you hadn't biked over to his trailer and slept together. But that created another set of questions because you really didn't want to stop. His hands skimming over your waist, toying with the band of your bra, a knee between your legs. It felt too good.

Your eyes scanned over his tattoos, thoughts raging in your head. Desire raging through your body.

Insufferable, sure, but damn it. You liked him. A lot.

So you threw a critical hit and pulled him down to whisper in his ear.

“I want you to fuck me, Eddie.”

The breath he let out was ragged, and he immediately pulled back to look at you. To make sure he'd heard you right. When he said nothing, you threw an arm around him and yanked him down, pressing him against you as you trailed your own kisses along his jaw. And that made Eddie melt. For approximately fifteen seconds before he was scooping you off the couch and carrying you into his room. It was a flash of different objects. One being his guitar. Another an amp. Then a stereo and then his mattress.

Your back was on it and Eddie was nudging your legs open with his knee.

“Who would have thought you had such a dirty mouth, princess?” He grinned before, without much of a warning, tugging the cups of your bra down. And it was only when Eddie’s mouth closed around a nipple that you realized Eddie had his mouth on your nipple.

His hair tickled as his tongue swirled, an arm around your back holding you close. Over and over, his tongue swirled and licked, and he gently sucked. Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson was touching your chest. An understatement of a sentence, but he was. And it felt fucking great.

His hand skimmed down your stomach as he turned his attention to the other side of your chest. He toyed with the elastic of your underwear as he swiped his tongue over your nipple, humming as your eyes clamped shut and you bit back a moan. But he wasn’t exactly happy with that outcome, fingers dipping down over your underwear and swiping over the damp spot that’d formed.

Eddie whistled, glancing up at you from your chest. His grin said everything he could’ve possibly conjured up. And his fingers finding your clit kept you from saying a smart-ass remark.

Eddie was a guitarist. He was good with his fingers. That translated magnificently to what he was doing between your legs. And it was a shorter amount of time than you ever wanted to admit to get you from squirming under his hold to clutching onto him, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, whimpering in his ear.

“Eddie, please.” You pressed your head back into his pillows. You were getting close and you were still partially dressed. “More. Want more.”

Eddie, at the very least, wasn’t a dick. So the only time he left you wanting was the amount it took to get you stripped bare. And the brief pause he took, kneeling back in his blue boxers, gawking at you naked on his bed. His blush went from his neck all the way to, you imagined, the tips of his ears hidden beneath his hair.

He laughed, head tilted to the side as he bit his lip.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll give you whatever you want.” He nodded frantically before he was back on top of you.

His fingers pressed against your entrance and he swallowed your moan with a kiss, gently working you with lazy thrusts. You almost thought you had to remind him you weren’t a virgin until he found the spot in you that made you break the kiss with a loud gasp.

Eddie smirked against your cheek, fingers moving fast enough to chase the orgasm he’d gotten you close to before. But slow enough to still draw every little wave of pleasure out of you. His left hand came up beside your head to prop himself up and you caught the rings glittering in the yellowing lighting.

“You know, when I first saw you, princess,” Eddie murmured against your jaw. “This was not how I expected our relationship to turn out.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Eddie’s teeth grazed against you. “Didn’t think you’d ever fall for a freak like me. Thought I’d be stuck pining forever.”

You would’ve reacted to that sentiment had Eddie given you the chance. But it seemed to be his time to shine, with his hands and his words. He worked his fingers a little faster, and you hugged him closer. You wanted more of him inside you, but you also desperately wanted to cum. If he stopped now, you’d throw something across the room.

“I’m really glad I took that smoke break last night. Heard that thunder.” You could feel yourself squeezing around him and it was closer—leaving you right on the edge as you started to shake. “Never thought myself as the kinda guy to drive a girl home in the rain like that. Real, real glad I did.”

You choked out his name as you came, and Eddie let you bury your face in the crook of his neck, kissing the side of your head as you came around his fingers. It was like Fourth of July fireworks erupting through your veins, making your muscles tense and shake. And you didn't like the concept of comparing this to the few times you'd done stuff with your last partner. But he never made you feel like this. Not even remotely.

You were panting when Eddie pulled his fingers out and wiped them off on his boxers. His nose nudged yours and you could sense what he was already going to say. But you weren’t going to give him the chance.

"Condom." It was a demand, and Eddie grinned. "Not joking, Munson. Condom. Let's go."

"Jeeze," he breathed, reaching into a box near his bed. "For someone who just came, you're very bossy.”

You pushed up on your elbows, still hyper-aware that you were completely naked.

“Eddie.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He was back on the bed and opening the foil. “Hold your horses, princess, alright.”

“Eddie. I told my family I’d be back before dark.” You pointed toward his window where it was starting to be exactly that. “Now, I don’t want to rush you, but it’s only a matter of time before Dustin connects the dots and figures out where I am. And I think we both can agree it’s not the smartest thing for him to know what you and I are currently doing together. So I’m going to need you to—”

"Hurry up, yeah, yeah." He sounded a little more panicked. "Finding loopholes in the rule-breaking to avoid consequences. Got it. Get it. Now open your legs, princess, so I can fuck you.”

Eddie pulled his boxers down and you followed his dark line of hair south to his erection. The tip was red and the rest of him was thick. He gave you a semi-nervous and awkward smile as he rolled the condom on. But he kicked his boxers aside as soon as he finished and put a hand on your shoulder to push you back down.

"Time crunch, sure, but princess? Let me savor this." He nudged his nose with yours again. "Don't know if this'll happen again so please, let me fuck you nice and slow."

You licked your lips as Eddie gave you the sexiest version of puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. You nodded and Eddie smiled softly.

“Thank you.”

He had a hand on your thigh as he guided himself between your folds, coating the condom before pressing his tip to your entrance. It was a slow thrust to start, him cursing as you gasped, going until you’d taken every bit of him. Then he paused, a hand slamming down on the bed a few times and he practically seethed.

“Tight,” was all he said.

Only when you whined his name did he move his hips. Slowly and carefully, making sure to gradually hit deeper each time. He wasn’t exaggerating—he was gonna fuck you nice and slow. And even when you glanced over and the setting sun was throwing oranges over the sky, you didn’t rush him. Each thrust felt too damn good—Eddie felt too damn good.

You’d never felt this good before.

And he kept it up until you were feeling even better. Legs closing around his back and nails digging into his skin kind of better. You tried to kiss his neck, but his slight adjustment in angles was almost brutal, hitting the same spot he’d hit with his fingers. It made you have to go back to muffling yourself against his shoulder.

“Shit, (Y/N).” Eddie hung his head and cursed under his breath. “Goddamn.”

“Eddie…I…”

“I know, baby.” He moved his hips a little faster and you could feel that coil tightening in your stomach until it felt like you were going to burst.

You came before Eddie could say whatever else he was going to. Your heels dug into his lower back as those fireworks went off again. Erupting through you, the sparks igniting your skin. All until it felt like you were going to combust. And you felt pretty damn close to it as you came, holding onto Eddie like your life depended on it.

Eddie lasted only a little while longer, cursing as he stole another kiss, his hips stuttering. He groaned, slamming his hand down on the bed again and grabbing a fistful of the sheets.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. “Shit.”

You grinned underneath him, body shaking as you laughed. He chuckled, shaking his head and pulling back to peer down at you.

"Hi there, princess." He pressed his forehead to yours, a few pieces of his bangs sticking to it. "Guess I should stop calling you that considering you're not that much of a goody two shoes, huh?"

“Nah.” You bit your lip, smiling up at him. “I kinda like it. It’s grown on me.”

"Oh, thank god, because I had zero intention of stopping." He gave you a quick kiss and moved off, giving you a view of his back flexing as he tied the condom off and pulled his boxers on. He glanced over his shoulder and smirked. "Getting dark out, princess. Trust me, I want you to stay more than anything, but avoiding suspicion is job number one."

“Ouch, trying to get rid of me already. I see how it is, Munson.” You pushed up and grabbed your clothes, Eddie stepping out to give you a moment of privacy. When he came back with your shirt, you were already dressed.

“My band plays—”

“The Hideout, every Tuesday.” You laughed when he gave you a crooked grin. “Dustin told me.”

“Come. Would finally be someone worthwhile in the crowd.”

You licked your lip and glanced out his window. You really needed to leave.

"I'll think about it. I'll have to see if I'm working or not." You started towards the door, but Eddie stopped you, hands on your waist and pulling you close.

“I look forward to seeing you there, princess.”

He gave you a quick final peck of a kiss and you gave him your best annoyed stare.

“Night, Eddie.”

“Night, (Y/N).”

It was just after dark when you pulled into your driveway and entered your house. Your mom made a comment about starting to get worried but you just walked past her and Dustin, heading directly towards the shower.

It was fine—everything was going to work out. They didn’t know—they weren’t going to know—and whatever you and Eddie were experimenting with could continue on the down low.

Super easy, super relaxing. No stress about it. You’d just see Eddie whenever he came into the diner, whenever you could get over to his place, and when he played with his band. Easy.

“You were gone for a while,” Dustin said, standing in your doorway with his eyes narrowed.

“I was.” You glanced up from the book you were reading. “Had a lot to clear from my head.”

Dustin nodded, walking a bit into your room and he dropped a hand to your shoulder. You cocked a brow and smiled. But Dustin just said nothing, and kept looking until he turned and started towards your door. You were about to say something, to question Dustin’s only semi-weird behavior compared to his usual antics when he stopped, hand on your doorknob.

"See, I was right. Joining the Hellfire club was fun." He pulled the door closed behind him. "Next time, you may want to shower at Eddie's before coming back. You reek of weed."

You sat your book down and stared at your closed door.

Well, shit. That complicates things.

#fic rec #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut

864 notes · View notes

all-theimaginess · 2 years

Text

— road gate.

masterlist. / nav.

❰ about. the one where we get billy back bc screw the duffelbag bros

❰ warnings. fem!reader, mentions of smut, angst, grieving, mentions of blood

❰ word count. 4.1k

❰ note. reader doesn’t know much about the upside down, and didn’t get involved with the party until the events of season three. she’s known max and billy since they first came to hawkins! also, i may write more than one version of billy coming back inspired from some theories i’ve seen. this one just came to me randomly and might not make sense or could be messy, but i just want him back anyway, anyhow dammit 😭

His absence was like a gray sky, spread over everything, and as sad as the beginning of springtime. Few people cried for him.

You held your grief, two limp tulips in each hand, and one in your mouth. Your grip was tight, and your cries muffled by the stem. No one else cared to water these flowers, these memories of sacrifice, for Billy. Your tears were not enough to keep them alive. You nor Max, the only people he was rooted in.

So you ripped the flowers out like knives from a body, letting the arteries dry up—letting every emotion finally bleed out. It was too much to keep the tulips in the earth of your heart when they were already dying. You needed to move on, but not forget.

Shut away in your room, and sitting on your bed, you let yourself feel the hurt. The hurt was important to heal.

You went through all the shades of blood, from the brightest—the best memories of you and Billy, to the last degree of reds—black. Terrible anxiety. It seized you by the throat. Seized you by the need for Billy’s existence—the feeling that without him you were lost, or rather, that you preferred anything at all to having lost him.

Your anguish made you fold in on yourself, chest pressing to your knees. It made your hands form claws, fingers curling in like a dead spider’s legs. You froze in that position, rigid as if plagued by rigor-mortis. You trembled as your sobs forced your jaws apart in a silent scream. It pained your jaws to be open so wide, and caused a heavy headache.

Griefs and regrets came to you one by one, attracted to the smell of your emotions’ blood. They perched on your shoulders as crows, weighing you down even more, talons sinking into you.

You wished you looked at Billy longer. All those times he tried to invite reactions out of you by standing so close his scent filled your lungs—teakwood, leather, and cigarettes, and angling his head down to try and meet your eyes. You were too flustered to do more than glances, but he thought it was cute. It showed in the way he grinned—the type of smile he only ever had around you.

His happiness was as rare as a blue moon, and when it was there, it was like a chord from his favorite song—of such pure gravity. It saddened you to see how he normally felt; angry, and needing to lash out from pain, by inflicting it. But he didn’t deserve to suffer or die. He was not unforgivable. He just needed the chance to change, to do better.

You wished you could have given him more happiness. Something to ease his pain. He didn’t always let you in, even when his eyes gleamed like liquid mercury with tears. Neil always made him feel weak, so Billy strived to be strong however he could.

You wished you touched him more than you already had the chance to. More than playing with the prominent curl of hair at his forehead, drawing a hand up his chest, exposed even beneath two layers of clothing, or simply embracing him.

In public, you were shy, but he never was. He secured an arm around you whenever he could; across your shoulders, or around your waist and hooked a finger in your belt loop. Always, in some way, you were pulled closer to him. He needed the kind of touch that didn’t instill fear, but comforted him, and you gave that to him.

In the school parking lot, you vividly remembered the boldest thing you did. You weren’t one to show off, but you were overcome with such a need for Billy that you didn’t care who saw.

You sat on the hood of his Camaro, and he stood between your legs, squeezing your hips. Like an enthused cat, his pupils were swollen, limiting the blue of his rises to a thin ring.

He glanced down to your chest, fitted with a cami top, and detailed with lace. The material had the sheen of pearls, and hugged your shape; the swell of your braless breasts, and the curves of your torso.

Stop looking, you thought. And do something.

When he didn’t, you did. And it took him by surprise. Pleasantly.

You snatched his chain necklace, Mother Mary and Son pendant imprinting your palm, and pulled him down to capture his lips. You fit him tighter between your legs, your other hand grasping his denim jacket.

The kiss was hot enough to join metals, and branded your memory forever. But you wished you had more of those moments. Always more than what you already had.

You could have had more time with him; if you skipped classes like he asked, if you didn’t leave his bed before late morning, if you lingered by the pool a little longer. But you tried to cherish what time you did have with him. You didn’t know it would be all you’d have.

Your anguish soon calmed, loosening its grip on your body, but you wondered if you had any blood left in you. As though you were coming down from hot flashes, your body was chilled and shivering.

Lying down on your side and scrunching up in the fetal position, you looked at the empty space next to you.

It was strange how memories were all around you. Strange, uninvited, and painful, yet still warming.

School nights never mattered. Billy found ways to convince you of that. He only wanted you, not good grades.

You had tried to make an effort to be quiet when he knelt down and got his fingers full of you, his mouth on you. The splash of his tongue melted you like a sugar cube.

Then you were full of him, and every thrust took you and him together like a violin bow, drawing sweet noises from two separate strings.

But it was the aftermath, in the morning light, waking up to him after he undid you the night before. His breaths were cool and light on your skin. He touched your face, reading the structure of you like braille; tracing the curve of your jawline and cheekbones, feeling the softness of your plush lips, lightly admiring the hickey on the pulse point of your throat.

You and him were quiet the whole time, but didn’t need words to speak to one another. Touch was a language, too.

You drew your fingers up his forearm, over the bumps of tendons, to tangle your fingers with his. Hands held up between you, sunlight gilded yours and Billy’s skin as if something holy was emanating from both of you.

You felt his pulse in his hand, and you were sure that was it. The mingling of heartbeats—thumping that morse code only lover’s understood.

A telltale pinch behind your eyes stole you from the memory. A memory of past bliss that became the anguish of today; how it leapt and snapped. How it nipped at you, unexpectedly. Cradling your hand, sobs bubbled out from you. You closed your eyes, hot tears stinging like fresh wounds.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes snapped open, body shocked stiff.

The voice was faint, and echoey as if coming from the end of a chasm. Wavering as if underwater. It was Billy’s voice.

On your nightstand, the lamp’s light stuttered like a palpitating heart.

Hearing his voice, seeing lights tremble—it had been constant for almost a year. You had not only lost Billy, but maybe your mind as well.

You didn’t talk to anyone about it. Not your parents. They didn’t know how Billy really died, and would medicate you for your “hallucinations”, or put you up with a shrink.

You didn’t talk to Max about it, either. Not lately. She withdrew from everyone. You still took her to school some days, but she was never there in that passenger seat. Her headphones whisked her away from this world as much as a good book did.

Your escape was Billy’s Camaro. You had saved it from the scrapyard, using your college funds to buy it and fix it up yourself. You didn’t have much knowledge of cars, but made do with books and lessons from VHS tapes.

The Camaro wasn’t the only thing of Billy’s you managed to keep. You had his denim and leather jackets, his necklace, and his silver spike earring.

Having the things of a person was never as good as having who they belonged to, just as you couldn’t enjoy a flower with only one of its petals. Although, these belongings kept you as close as you could get to someone who was gone. The connection to Billy through his things was a thin, measly string, but it meant everything. Just as much as the memories did—good and bad.

As you kept turning him over in your mind and in your heart, you closed your eyes again, exhaustion weighing you down like overly damp clothes.

God help him. He had no one to guide him. He was in the dark, and the only light was red. It blinked and cracked the black sky. All around him, spores floated like marine snow in the oceans. Fleshy vines branched across everything—up walls, trees, across the ground. Creatures, some with faces that opened up as toothed petals, prowled and flew overhead.

Billy was sure it was hell, perhaps his personal hell. It mirrored Hawkins, yet there were no other people, and his house didn’t have his belongings—as though he never lived in it. But your house—it was where he went to and stayed. He always felt safest there, even in what he assumed to be hell, or purgatory.

Your home had your things, especially your mom’s, from her Eternal Beau and Hornsea Pottery collections in the kitchen, to the glass fish ornaments and L’Enfant Poster in the living room.

The name plaque on your bedroom door ensured that Billy, as well as your prying parents, knew exactly whose messy and poster adorned room lay within. Almost every girl had a door plaque, and if it helped you to assert your individuality, then why not?

But Billy didn’t recognize some things in your room. You had Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet posters (if you weren’t Duran Duran then you were all about Tony Hadley and the Kemp Brothers) when he remembered posters of Mötley Crüe, Twisted Sister, and AC/DC.

What he did recognize were your Pound Puppies—teddies based on sad-eyed, homeless dogs in the pound, snow globes, your lockable diary, Smash Hits magazines, and your boom box. Even if it was tacky, it was pink, and you probably played Wham and Duran Duran because, of course, before the hormones kicked in and you wanted posters of real rockstars on your walls, you were a lot more innocent.

Such as with your Care Bears. A sunshine bear, a lucky bear, and one of the love bears sat lined up against your pillows; neat as books on a library shelf.

Billy stood by your bed. It was tidy, like usual, but he had known it to be unmade most days because of him. He grabbed the coral pink Love-a-Lot Bear, remembering...

He snagged the bear and flopped onto your bed with a content sigh, crossing his legs. He held the pink plush on his bare chest, red button shirt as open as a sliced wound.

“Can you give me some privacy, please?” Girded with a towel, you moved to your dresser. “Like, just close your eyes or something.”

“Mmm.” Billy hummed, closing his eyes, and pressing his lips into a thin line. “No.” He opened his eyes, using the care bear’s paw to point at you.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, digging around in your drawers.

“Why are you so shy all a sudden?”

“I’m not. I just don’t like being watched. It’s like when teachers are looking over your shoulder during a test.”

“I like looking at you.” He knew you by your sounds, your movements, so well. He always tried to listen and look at you like you were new to him. He didn’t want to get used to you, didn’t want to lose you to habit. He wanted to experience you every day like the first time he saw you, the first time he heard your voice, and the first time he felt you.

“For how much longer?” You spoke quietly, maybe not meaning for him to hear it, but he did.

“Hey.” His heavy tone made you turn to him, and he moved away from the bed to stand before you. He gripped the care bear at his side. “You think I’m gonna move on to the next girl after a few weeks? Think I’ll get bored?”

You looked up at him with eyes like your stuffed Pound Puppy’s, big and droopy. When he saw you looking up like that he knew that he loved you, and that it was for always. He knew it then and there. It was a strange feeling - when he knew quite certainly in himself that something was for always.

“Do I still find you sexy, and will I continue to? Hell. Yes.” He emphasized the two words by tapping the care bear’s nose against yours. It elicited a flustered smile from you, one that you tried to hide by dipping your head.

Warmth bloomed in Billy’s chest. “Look at me, princess.”

You did.

“I still try to get a peek at you when you get out of the shower, or when you get dressed in the morning. I want to look at you because I like you. Maybe more than I thought I would.”

“Then you’re an idiot, Billy Hargrove. You’re stuck with me.”

His smile pinched dimples in his cheeks. “Guess that means I’m your idiot.”

He heard you crying again. The sounds faded in and out like a tuning radio. He sank to his knees like a desperate man into prayer beside your bed, gripping the Love-a-Lot bear. “I’m here. I’m here…” He cried. The crying of something leaving the body—hope.

He had tried to talk to you. Tried to let you know he was stuck and could hear you. He heard everything you said, and even the music you played.

The first time he heard the music from your pink boombox, Cutting Crew’s song, “I’ve Been In Love Before” was playing. And something cradled the boombox, hanging in the air like dust.

Wary, Billy touched the particles, and as he did the song was tuned louder, the dust turned gold around his hand. The same thing happened with lights when he neared them. They got brighter.

He thought he could reach you this way, but it didn’t seem to work. He wondered if you were even hearing him when he tried to talk, or when he messed with your lights and music.

He knew this had to be his personal hell when he could hear you, when he knew you were there on the other side, but no matter what he did he would go unheard; be a ghost in the wall, fated to only observe as things lived and moved on without him.

Billy turned his back to your bed and settled down against it, eyes dry as a salt bed, and holding your care bear to his abdomen. A tear drew a hot line down his cheek, and he closed his eyes.

After you awoke, you retreated outside to the Camaro. All you had left to do was paint the scratches left from repaired dents, and the areas where the original paint was burned off.

You sat on a vibrantly colored gym scooter, able to easily roll around the car. Like a jeweler looking through a loupe, you focused intently on the scratches, blinking the strain from your eyes as you colored them in.

When you were done, you used your feet to push yourself away, the wheels of the scooter scratching against the cement. Admiring the car in full view, you drew in a deep, shaky breath. It was done.

Closing the driver’s door, you sat for a moment. You were almost too nervous to start the Camaro. Or too excited? You looked at the rearview mirror. Hanging from it was Billy’s necklace and earring—your lucky dice.

They were the push you needed. You turned the key, startling the engine awake, and jumpstarting your heart. It beat furiously in your chest and ears, but the vibrations from the car’s grumbling eased you.

Billy opened his eyes. He’d know that growl anywhere. He fled your room, following the noise outside. Through the spores, floating like wispy cotton seeds, he saw the dust again, mimicking where his car’s tail lamps and headlights were.

You had his Camaro.

He heard it accelerate, and like jets drawing clouds in the sky, the dust trailed behind.

His knee jerk reaction was to try and follow, but he stopped himself, knowing you’d be back. But when? Your empty house here felt emptier without your ghostly presence.

A cawing screech made him whip around, heart stuttering. The creature, with the face of a hookworm and leathery wings, was perched on the porch light. It wagged its wings and leapt from the light, prompting Billy to run for the tree line.

Gliding over the roof, more bats gathered like snowflakes. Their flapping shapes, appearing as static, were accentuated by the sky’s pulsing crimson light. They angled down after Billy.

The wind tossed and played with your hair as you sped down lonely roads, tracing their curves and ignoring their low number limits. You drove as Billy always did—a little too fast, a little too recklessly. You wanted to relive him anyway you could.

You momentarily closed your eyes, imagining it was you and him in the car, and he was the one driving. You held your hand out of the window, dipping into the high winds, and splaying your fingers; the breeze seeping through like cool water.

You saw Billy beside you, crooked smile teasing his mouth, and bumping his palm on the steering wheel to the beat of Poison.

The softness of his smile overwhelmed you with the stirring of wings in your chest. I’m gone for him, you had thought fondly. Aren’t I?

It was true. He was as deep in you as your pulse.

Absorbed in daydreams, you must have driven all around Hawkins, outlasting the sunlight. Night took reign, and on your way back you mindlessly took the road Fred Benson’s corpse was found on.

And something glowed ahead. A light, deeply hued as a natural, red spinel stone, poked through the middle of the road.

Billy hid in a gutted cabin, waiting, and trembling. It had been quiet, save for the thunder. The storm was always the same, never a molten silver sky, never shedding cool tears, only angry—like an infected wound.

He missed sunlight. He missed the shitty cow smell of Hawkins. He missed you. He missed his shitbird sister Mad Max. He missed being safe.

Here, everything was a threat, from the way the sky wrote its bad omens in messy red ink, to the predators always looking for him. Billy didn’t know what would happen if he was caught by one of the creatures. If he was killed, would he come back and be forced to try and survive all over again?

He moved away from the wall to peek out of the window, its jagged glass teeth threatening to chomp down on him as if he were in the jaws of an anglerfish. He skimmed the canopies for the bats—whether they were flying or camping in the branches. Nothing.

He emerged from the woods onto a road. He had to get back to your house. It was the only place he wanted to be here. But he heard something familiar to his right. The sound of his car.

You slowed the Camaro to a stop, and sat there, staring at the gaping wound. Quite literally. It looked like flesh sliced open.

Leaving the car running, you stepped out of it, haloed by the headlights. They cast a cookie cutter shape of your shadow that stretched taller than you. You warily approached the glowing gash.

Standing over it, you couldn’t see through, but the concealing of whatever was inside was thin—like skin stretched taut over a drum.

Billy expected the sound of the Camaro to pass by, but it stood still as those clouds of dust. For some reason, you had stopped. And then he saw the muffled light reaching out from the road. He thought it was sunlight, real daylight, when it was only from the Camaro.

He hurried to it, and upon seeing a human shadow stamped to the flesh of the gate, his body heat was snuffed out. Was it you? Slowly, he lowered to one knee. His body felt like an eggshell filled with arctic water; so cold, he could feel it emanate off of him.

“Who’s there?” He called.

You stilled, lungs on pause, and eyes blown wide as a camera lens. Billy. His voice. Coming from the other side?

“I said, who’s there?!”

Like a puppet cut from its strings, your legs gave out and you dropped to your knees. God damn everything if this wasn’t real. “Billy?!”

“Y/N? It’s you? Is that you?!” Emphasizing his last three words, Billy frantically beat his hands against the pavement.

“Billy, it’s me!” Your throat closed up, almost too tight to speak. “I’m here.”

Faraway screeching sounded. Billy twisted around, and flapping wings in the sky injected desperation into his voice. “Fuuuck! They’re coming!”

“Who? Billy, how do I get to you?!” Then you recalled that what covered the gate looked thin. Thin enough to easily break. At least you hoped so. “Billy grab my hand!”

Grimacing, you plunged your hand through the moist flesh, bursting out on Billy’s end like something undead waking from its grave. He seized you by the forearm, his grip a metal clamp.

You pulled, but the gravity of the gate kept it from being easy. You grabbed Billy’s arm and straightened up, bending your knees to get leverage. Gritting your teeth, tendons in your neck swelled as though they might pop free.

Like uprooting a long weed, Billy rose out from the road. He slapped his free hand down and pushed himself up, muscles bulging, and onto his side.

The strength snuffed from your body, you collapsed by him. Neither of you let go of one another. You always had the strength to hold on no matter what.

Eyes rimmed with stinging tears, you looked at him—all of him. His hair was wet and plastered to his face, as if he had just risen from water. Dried blood stained his white top like cola spilled over a table cloth. The blood from nine months ago.

You reached for him, moving the hair from his face to see his eyes. Fright and exhaustion shadowed them. But they were still as blue as you remembered.

You realized he was shaking.

“Billy,” you whispered. You thought of how many nights you had lain awake missing him, and caught hold of him tightly, melting against him like snow into fire.

He snaked an arm around you, molding you to him.

The miracle of both of your actualities, your breathing forms, and of being able to hold one another again was as great a miracle as hope and desperation may produce. Perhaps greater.

He drew a hand up your figure and sowed his fingers in your hair like roots in soil. Burying his face in the nook of your throat, he whispered in a broken, strained voice, “Y/N, I was so scared. So scared. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. He made me do it. Please, he made me do it. I’m sorry.”

He was home. And the first thing he did was apologize.

“I know.” You squeezed words out from your tight throat. “I know it wasn’t you.” You cradled his cheek, encouraging him to look at you—even with those eyes, glistening like light striking the edges of a diamond. “It’s not your fault.” You touched your thumb to the edge of his lips. “You’re safe now.”

He relaxed in your hold, his trembling easing away from the warmth of your words. Closing his eyes, tears escaped down his cheeks—one touching the webbing between your fingers. He exhaled a shaky breath he had been holding for months. He had finally awoken from a nightmare. It was all over.

You kissed him as you had in the school parking lot, but with the hunger of a year, and the tenderness of promise.

Pressing your forehead to his, you murmured, “You’re home, now.”

❰ tags. @bdpst-massacre

#fic rec #billy hargrove x reader

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