sapphire4082

[sapphire4082]

When She Was Bad

Boyfriend!Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie approves your request to switch dynamics in bed. You eagerly pull out the handcuffs—your weapon of choice as you take what you need. It’s too bad for Eddie that what you need is to drive him insane…

A/N: I wrote this in a brain worm induced trance a month ago, so sorry if this is not coherent. I really like this one, I like the way Eddie bides his time and plays along to get uncuffed and then he just goes crazy, goes stupid.

Word Count: 3.9k of just straight up hard core porn…

Warnings: 18+ mdni!!! This’ll make your pussy shed a tear fr, kinda dark!Eddie, PiV unprotected, dom/sub dynamics, verryyyy rough sex, dead dove: do not eat, one account of face slapping, cum play, cream pie, masturbation (f), very mean!dom!Eddie, choking, angry!Eddie doesn’t like when you disobey him, kind of bratty!Reader, spanking, fingering, clit-pinching, dacryphilia, lot of degradation, mocking/humiliation, name calling (whore and bitch), Eddie’s a lil manipulator teehee–he just wants to be freed from his handcuffs :(, tiny bit of breeding kink if you squint

Masterlist

Usually Eddie likes to be in control, fucking you in any position or hole you’ll allow him to. However, when you proposed a different scenario, wanting to try being in control for once, the loving boyfriend that he is, he, of course, agreed.

But because you're feeling particularly evil, you don't play with him, as you said you would when you explained your fantasy to him. Well, you don’t play with him in any sort of way he’d want to be played with. He was fully willing to let you pretend to boss him around, to take what you needed from him. He’d have even played the part of your sub—if you hadn’t gone and fucked it all up, of course.

Instead of doing what you promised, you sit on his thighs, trapping his legs to the bed as you touch yourself in front of him—something he doesn’t like you doing. He always tells you, if you want to get off, he would gladly fuck you six ways to Sunday. So you fingering your pussy right in front of him is a slap in the face and a clear display of you spitting on the rules he so kindly laid out for you when you two first started sleeping together. 

He only has those rules to keep you well-behaved because well-behaved girls get to cum. Well-behaved girls get treated like princesses, not whores. But you’re forcing his hand here, you’re practically begging to be treated like an expendable whore. 

When he realizes what you’re doing, that this was your plan all along, he practically growls, yanking at the cuffs imprisoning him to the bed frame. He’s never going to trust you again when you try to tell him what you want or need in bed, he should’ve known—a girl like you doesn’t know what the fuck she wants, let alone what she needs. You need to be told what you want, what you need, what you can take. 

After a few threatening comments—“You better fucking not, whore” and “Don’t you fucking dare, when I get out of here you’re gonna wish you never fucking met me, your pussy’s gonna ache for weeks!”—he decides his fury and the looming, unspoken threat of an abused ass is not enough to motivate you to stop your actions. Especially given that you ignore his words, only moaning and mewling like a desperate slut in response. 

His jaw is agape as he watches you rut your hips against your fingers like a bitch in heat. Your slick is practically dripping onto his thighs, his cock is flexing and twitching with need every time you let out a whine. He can tell you’re close and he’s never been more livid. If he could break out of these cuffs, you’d have to run for your life—he can’t be responsible for his actions after you’ve worked him up this much. 

“You better not cum, you bitch,” he grits out, dark eyes shooting daggers at you as his hips squirm under your weight. The metal clinks as he pulls on the restraints, aching to get his large, ringed hands around your delicate neck. He’d like to see how well you touch yourself when you’re losing oxygen. 

“But I’m close–you said you’d play with me,” you mewl, eyes closing and head tipping back as you hump your fingers—wishing they were his, or better yet, his cock. 

“That was before I knew you’d pull this shit. If you unlock me now, I’ll go easy on you. Might even let you cum,” he bargains, trying to change his strategy. 

The low, dangerous tone of his voice makes you clench around your fingers. “Oh, god! It’s so tight,” you breathe out, ignoring his words, you open your eyes to meet his damning gaze. “Is this how it feels…on your cock? So tight, squeezing so hard.”

Yanking the chain of the cuffs as hard as he can, Eddie nearly roars at your words. You’re taunting him and he doesn’t take kindly to that type of treatment. He won’t forget this. He may get you back in the immediate future, but you’re going to be working this off for months to come. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, trying to buck you off of him. 

When you barely move at his miserable attempt, instead, lifting higher onto your knees, his eyes widen as he watches you try to add a third finger into your tight cunt. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he mutters, shaking his head at the way you haphazardly shove the extra digit next to the others.

Your mouth drops open, panting out hot breaths as you try to adjust to the stretch so close to your orgasm. “Oh, Eddie, it’s so tight! How do you do this? I can barely take three fingers, how does your cock fit?” 

Your mewling question has pre-cum running down his thick length, the fat head practically pumping it out.

Eddie watches in horror as you reach your peak, hips losing any semblance of rhythm as you jerk forward onto him. Sighing at the fact that there’s nothing he can do, he mutters out a disdainful, “You evil fucking woman.” 

Suffering the aftershocks of your orgasm, you fall onto his chest, trapping his erection beneath your hot body. Eddie hisses at the pressure on his cock—he’s incredibly sensitive since you haven’t touched him at all for the past twenty-five minutes, too busy slowly edging yourself over the cliff. 

He can feel your wet fingers grabbing at his chest as you nuzzle into him like a tired cat. You’re so close he can smell your hair, and even worse, he can smell your arousal all over your hand. Trying to breathe through the rage, he stares straight ahead at the bedroom wall, imagining every awful thing he’s going to do to you over the next—probably six—months, in punishment, as you cling to him needily.

Closing your eyes in exhaustion, through huffing breaths, you mumble into his chest, “Oh, Eddie, that was so good. Oh my god, that was so good.” 

Eddie’s frown deepens as he shifts his eyes to the top of your head, unable to see your face, he can feel the way you softly rub your cheek against him—an affection he recognizes from your usual post-orgasm aftercare. He knows you well enough to know you’re coming down, separating from the scene that just transpired. A ghost of smirk graces his lips as he realizes he can use this to his advantage. 

“Yeah, that was so good, baby,” he coos sweetly, agreeing with your soft mumbles. It’s a momentary struggle to inflect kindness into his voice—he’s feeling so vengeful—but if he’s going to reap the revenge, he needs to play nice. 

His eye twitches as you ask your next question, “Did you have fun?” When he feels you start to shift, he forces softness into his eyes, brandishing a pleasant smile as he meets your hopeful gaze. 

“Yeah, sweetheart, so much fun,” he promises, glancing down at your neck just begging to be squeezed. 

Your smile broadens as a hazy look takes over your eyes, “Good. I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can do this more often.”

The idea of ever doing this again has his jaw clenching. His smile turns into baring teeth, but you don’t seem to notice in your orgasmic trance. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You hum, sitting up to rub your hands on his warm chest, admiring his naked body on full display. When you don’t seem to be in a rush to unlock him, his forced patience starts slipping. “You gonna let me outta here, honey?” He tries to ask the question as lightheartedly as possible, but he must not have done a good job because your smile drops a little. 

Meeting his eyes with a worried look, you try to get a read on him. “Are you sure you had fun? You’re not mad at me?” 

You’re practically pouting by the time you finish your questioning—it only makes him more rabid. You’re going to have a hell of a lot more to pout over once he gets his fucking hands on you. 

“No, baby,” he assures, “Of course, I had fun. Who wouldn’t have fun with such a pretty girl on top of ‘em?” Him. He wouldn’t. He didn’t. The shit you pulled tonight is probably something a  limp-cocked cuck would enjoy—and he’s sure as shit not that. 

Shyly avoiding his rapt attention, your face warms at the compliment. You’re so glad he’s not upset at you, you just wanted to try something a little different. 

The second your bright eyes drop from his, he lets the kindness fall from his face. His hateful gaze burns holes into your soft features as you fiddle with your fingers.

“I’m sorry I lied,” you mutter, almost ashamed. Good, he thinks. But you’re going to feel a lot more than shame when he’s done with you. “But I knew you wouldn’t wanna play if I told you what I really wanted to do.” Damn right.

You’re still sitting on his naked body, so close to his aching cock—it’s just another form of torture at this point. No apology you give him will make up for what you’ve done, or lessen the pain he’s going to inflict on you once he’s free. 

“I understand, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

With his gentle reassurance, you glance at his achy, leaking cock; he follows your eyesight as his shaft gives an uncontrollable twitch at the attention. Watching the cogs turn in your brain, he makes sure to fix his face when he sees your head moving, your eyes catching his gaze again. 

“Can I suck you off, now?” Oh, now you want to ask for permission? You had no problem doing things your way when you finger-fucked yourself on top of him. 

Letting his tongue explore the inside of his mouth, he pretends to think. “Hm, I don’t know. I think I deserve to be freed first.” He flexes his hands; the jingle of metal draws your attention back to his current predicament. You look surprised at the reminder—almost like you forgot. He definitely didn’t. 

“Oh, yeah, of course! Sorry,” you utter, a rueful smile spreading across your lips. 

Eddie watches your slow movements—like a predator hunting its prey—as you swipe the key off the bedside table. “‘S okay,” he whispers, his breath fanning across your cheek, his eyes burning a hole into you as you lean over him to unlock his hands.

The second they’re both free, his left hand goes flying to your neck, squeezing it and shoving you down onto your back. A squeal tears from your throat at the sudden attack, “Eddie!” 

Pinned under his large palm and heavy body, you grab at his wrist, trying to get him to loosen his grip. Your brows are pinched as you choke for breath, eyes never leaving his. You’ve never seen him so angry—the daggers his muddy irises throw at you send you reeling.

“Did you really think I’d let you off for that shit?” he grits, baring his teeth as he leans down into your sputtering face. “You’re in big fuckin’ trouble, sweetheart. I wasn’t kidding, you’re gonna wish you never met me the way I’m gonna make you hurt.”

He glances down between your warm bodies, lining his cock up to your entrance with his other hand. At the strained breaths you press out, he realizes you’re trying to speak. He’d love to hear what useless defense you conjure up, so he loosens his grip around you just enough for haggard breaths to wrack through your chest. 

“I thought you said you liked it,” you cry, tears welling in your eyes. You thought everything was sorted—there were no hard feelings—you’d pleasure him, and everything would be fine again. 

Eddie scoffs as you let out another squeal, this time at the way he sinks his full length deep into your cunt—all in one go, unlike his usual, steady process. “No, I didn’t fuckin’ like it,” he spits out, giving you another punishing pinch around your throat. “You sat there taunting me while you fucked your fingers like a dirty whore. You think that’s what I consider ‘fun’?”

Pulling back, he pounds his cock into you, surely bruising your walls with every rough pass. Your pussy is already so sensitive from your orgasm that you can’t help the scream that flies past your lips at his harsh penetration. 

“B–But–” you struggle to string together your words—let alone thoughts. He’s taking you in such an impassioned way—the passion being rage—you can barely catch your breath. 

“But, but–” he mocks, “Spit it out!”

Whining as he smacks your thigh, you feel his rough hand traveling up your body and landing at your breasts. You whimper as he gropes you so firmly, it almost hurts. He’s still pinning you to the bed with his other hand, not allowing you much squirming room as his hips jolt you with every buck. 

“B–But you always say you want me to enjoy myself,” you defend with a wail, hot tears well and truly pouring from your eyes—you’re so sensitive and overstimulated. You genuinely did not mean to cause such an upset, you just wanted to push his buttons a little. Now you’re trying to understand where you crossed the boundary of fun, sexy dynamics to ‘your ass is mine for what you did.’ But you want him to take what he needs; you want him to take you, body and soul, so long as he forgives you by the end of it. You hate when he’s upset at you, it always makes you cry and feel all needy. 

“Yeah on my cock. Not on your fucking fingers. You knew the rules, sweetheart, and you broke them anyway. Now you gotta pay for it.”

Moaning at a particularly deep thrust, you cry harder at his reminder of your deplorable actions. You initially thought it was all in good fun, but he seems to think differently and you’re inclined to believe him. “I’m sorry, Eddie! I’m sorry, please forgive me,” you beg, brows pinched in anguish as you try to meet his eyes.

When all you see is ire in his pretty brown irises, you heave out a wrecked sob—you never meant to be so bad for him.

“Cry all you want, baby, you deserve this and so much more,” he grits, reaching down to pinch your clit.

You scream at the twinge of pain and pleasure it gives you, your clit is already the most sensitive place on your body and now it’s even worse after you so foolishly played with yourself in front of him. His cock is so thick as it barrels into your abused pussy, you’re brought back to your taunting—how you stuffed three fingers into your hole and just that was a tight fit. You’d wonder how you’re taking his cock right now, but it’s less that you’re taking it, rather he’s forcing your pussy open, compelling your folds to suck him in—but it’s nothing you don’t deserve.

Watching the tears run down your temples and hearing you mewling cries has Eddie’s hips stuttering. “Fuck–my cunt, my fucking cunt,” he chants, fucking his ownership into you. 

A guttural moan emanates from deep within you as he hooks his arm around your knee, pressing your thigh to your abdomen—he’s so far inside you it feels like he’s everywhere in your body at once. 

“Oh, you’re fucking mine, you’re so fucking mine, baby.” 

His words almost sound like he’s damning you to a lifetime with him. The sliver of possessive affection in his groans has you preening, needing more. He could do a million mean things to you, but if he tells you you’re his just once, you could die happy, feeling loved. Desperately clinging to the little bit of positivity, you fervently nod your head. “Yours, yours, Eddie,” you pathetically assure—as if he needs your opinion on the subject of who you belong to. 

“Ah, fuck, y’squeezin’ the life outta me, sweetheart. I fuckin’ knew your fingers couldn’t do the job the way I can.” 

“Yes, yes you’re so good, you feel so fucking good, Eddie! Was thinking of your cock the whole time!”

Despite his own reference to your previous actions, your attempt to encourage him seems to backfire as just another reminder of the broken rules. 

“Shut the fuck up and take it, bitch. Gonna fuck my cum so far up into you, I’m gonna be drippin’ outta you for the next two weeks.”

You nod your head, unable to hold back the whine that tumbles past your lips at his promise. 

Eddie’s not happy with how tight you’re squeezing him—he’d prefer your walls milk the cum out of him and right now, you’re not at that level of vice grip. In an effort to rectify the situation, he untangles his arm from around your leg—the pressure of his body keeping it in place—and pinches your clit again, but this time he doesn’t let go. It’s like he’s holding the little button hostage between his forefinger and thumb, manually forcing you to clench down onto him.

Your screams cover up his stuttering groans; the pain outweighs the pleasure so, although your walls are pulsing around his throbbing cock, you can’t seem to cum. Which is exactly what Eddie wants. Cumming is a privilege, and you gave that up the moment you started touching yourself. 

“Oh, shit, this fuckin’ pussy. Oh fuck!” The grip on your neck feels heavier as he loses himself in your wet heat. With another groan and harsh buck of his hips, he blows his load deep into your cunt. Your walls are truly milking him for everything he’s got as he maintains his demanding grip on your clit. When he finally releases the little bud, your screams fall to whimpers in his ear as he collapses onto your heaving chest. His grip on your neck still remains, but it’s far lighter now.

After catching his breath and reveling in your silent cries, he pulls out and off of you. He shoots you a firm look, though, much less angry now. “You’ve been so bad, sweetheart.” 

You crumble under his disappointed eyes, a few extra tears glide down the well-worn treks. “I’m sorry, Eds. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you whine, imploring him. 

He doesn’t believe you because he knows it’s not the truth—you certainly meant to be bad. You just didn’t mean to get punished. Choosing not to dignify your cries with a response, he shifts his gaze to the cum oozing out of your gaping, pulsing hole. That’s a welcome sight, at least. A well-bred cunt can lighten up any of his darkest moods—he’s always said that. 

Reaching down, he swipes four fingers along your slit, gathering as much of his spend onto his hand as he can. Flinching at the hot touch on your sensitive folds, your eyes widen as he appears to take a moment, considering the juices on his fingers. Before you have a chance to ponder what he’s thinking about, you feel a harsh, wet slap against your face. 

A humiliating whimper leaves your throat as the slapping sound reverberates around the room, making your pussy clench, only pushing more cum out. Embarrassed by your need to squeeze your thighs for relief, you sniffle. Your cheek feels like it’s on fire as you turn back to meet his unyielding gaze.  “Don’t you ever pull that shit again,” he grits out, “You hear me?” 

Quickly nodding your head, more tears well up. Just your luck. You’ve got his cum and your slick spread across your face in a lewd smear, why not add a few tears to the mix too? 

Unconsciously, you pull your head back into the bed, turning it like you’re about to rub your check against your bare shoulder. Eddie’s razor sharp gaze catches you in the act, his hand shooting to grasp your jaw, effectively halting your movements. 

“Keep it,” he orders. “Makes y’look prettier.” 

You melt under his praise, the tears start falling again. You’re so emotional, he’s got you all over the place. You’re hanging off of every mean word, hoping the next one shows any semblance of kindness. 

When Eddie starts shuffling off the bed, you match his movements, trying not to visibly cringe at the feeling of his spend seeping out of you. You’re about to head to the bathroom when his biting tone pins you to your place. 

“Where d’you think you’re going?” 

You now know better than to clean your face, especially after he painted it so nicely, but you were hoping to solidify yourself on his good side again by wetting a towel with warm water and offering to clean him up. 

“‘S gonna get a towel,” you mumble, looking at him with wide eyes. 

Cocking his head, he questions you further, “Did I say I was done with you?” 

Your mouth parts slightly in surprise—of course you fucked up again. “I was jus’–”

Dropping his voice an octave, he slowly repeats himself with a frown, “Did I say I was done with you?” 

Hurrying back over to him, you shake your head, “No, sir.” 

He can tell he’s got you now—you’ve pulled out the ‘sir’ and everything. Sitting on the end of the bed, he glances to his lap then back to you, drawing your eyes to his thighs. “Lay down,” he orders. 

Monitoring your every move, he watches as you carefully lay your naked body across his knees. “Good girl.” He has to force the smirk away from his face when he catches the edge of your brows lifting at the praise. Cute. You think you’re getting back on his good side. Not yet. 

“How many do you think you deserve?”

“What?” Your eyes search the carpeted ground for an answer, he’s never asked you how many smacks you should get. Usually, he comes up with some arbitrary number—well, arbitrary to you, targeted to him—and that’s what he works with. But now he’s giving you a choice and it feels like a trap. 

Impatient at your confusion, he reiterates the question, voice firm, “How many…do you think you deserve?” He decides that if you make him repeat himself one more time tonight, he’s going to triple the number he has in his head. 

You could say a number and risk his cruel, mocking laughter or you could just defer to him. You definitely see an easier night ahead of you if you do the latter.

“Whatever you think I deserve,” you say softly, hoping he appreciates your submission. 

Thankfully, it seems he does when you feel his rough palm soothingly smooth over your ass. “Now you’re being all sweet. ‘S that so hard, honey?” You shake your head. “I’m thinking…fifty.” He lifts his hand and grins, though you can’t see it from your limited view of the floor.

“Fifty?” you exclaim, unable to stop the reaction. 

You jolt as his hand comes down hard on your supple ass cheek. The yelp that leaves you is like music to his ears.

“Mhm, double for every minute you touched yourself in front o’me,” he explains. “You remember that, don’t you? Remember how you lied just so you could handcuff me and break my number one rule in front of me?” 

You whimper at his rhetorical questions, of course you remember—he knows you do. You’re not likely to forget what you did given how he’s reacted so far. 

“So, fifty. And you better count every single one of ‘em, sweetheart, or else we’re starting over.” 

You’re in for a much longer night than you suspected. It’s going to take a lot more than obeying instruction to get on his good side again. You wish you never even asked him to trade dynamics. 

A/N: How did we feel about this, team? I personally liked it, but that's just me being a nasty whore. Like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!

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[sapphire4082]

Grease and Glances

You're Steve Harrington’s little sister—and secretly crushing on Eddie Munson for weeks. But a broken bike brings you closer. Closer than you ever imagined. From strangers to friends to lovers. fluffy, description of sex, 18+, smut Watch out! There are severeal chapters.

<- Chapter One <- Chapter Two <- Chapter Three <- Chapter Four <- Chapter Five

It’s snowing in Hawkins. Thick, slow flakes settle like cotton on the bare branches, and the ground is covered in a frosty stillness that feels almost magical.

By now, the gossip about the two of you has died down. Once it wasn’t new or exciting anymore, people lost interest. But not you. For you, the relationship is anything but boring. You still drive Eddie to school, still visit the bridge, the pond, and the forest. Only now your conversations are interrupted by kisses and hands that wander under clothing.

Eddie confides in you that he often feels very lonely. Especially when everyone stares at him for being loud and drawing attention. And you tell him you feel the same. Especially when you’re sitting alone in your big house.

Eddie takes your hand, squeezes it gently, and kisses your forehead. He promises to always be your best friend. And that his friends are your friends, too. And you promise him that you’ll always be his best friend. Neither of you ever has to be alone again.

That evening, the trailer is quiet. Wayne’s not home — some night shift, some job Eddie just shrugs about. The silence isn’t awkward. It feels expectant. Like a promise.

You’re curled up together on the couch. A movie is playing, but neither of you is really watching. Your head rests on his shoulder, your fingers trailing unconsciously over his shirt. His hand rests on your back. Warm. Tender. But there’s something more.

Your heart starts to race as you turn to face him and look into his eyes. There it is — that glow you see every time he looks at you, like you’re the most beautiful secret in the world.

Then you kiss him. First gently. Then deeper.

The tension between you builds faster than either of you can control. Weeks of looks, touches, and longing thoughts explode in this moment. You straddle his lap, feeling his hands grip your hips — firm and trembling at once.

He moans your name against your lips as your body slowly moves over his. You’re both still fully clothed, but it doesn’t take away from the intimacy. On the contrary — every breath, every press, every movement pulls you deeper, makes you forget there’s still fabric between you.

Eddie’s head tips back against the couch, eyes closed, mouth open. You’ve never seen anything more beautiful. His expression, the tremble in his fingers, the gasping moan — it all burns itself into your heart.

As his body tenses beneath you, his hands gripping your hips like a reflex, you feel the world pause for just a second.

Then it’s over. And for a moment, neither of you says a word. You rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing hard, unsteadily. Then he starts to laugh. You laugh too.

“I… uh… I gotta go to the bathroom real quick,” he murmurs, grinning, red-faced. He stands, tugs at his shirt, and hurries off to the bathroom. You lean back, smiling to yourself.

Not awkward. Not weird. You’ve both waited far too long for this to feel anything but right.

While the snow falls, time passes, and Christmas draws near. From Eddie, you know that he and Wayne always celebrate alone. Something about the image of Eddie and his uncle sitting at that little table in an undecorated trailer with a tiny roast breaks your heart.

So you make a secret plan. But to pull it off, you’ll need your brother.

You find Steve in the kitchen — as usual — half inside the fridge, searching for something unhealthy. He mutters something about the lack of “decent snacks” in this house as you quietly sneak up behind him.

“Steve?”

He doesn’t even flinch — years of your sneak attacks have hardened him.

“If you’re about to ask me for something, don’t start with that tone,” he says, pulling his head out of the fridge and shutting the door. “What’s up?”

You shift from foot to foot, then hold a bag of his favorite chips under his nose. You might be a bit naive, but you’re definitely not stupid.

“I smell bribery,” he says, but takes the bag immediately.

“I had… an idea. For Christmas,” you say in your most innocent voice.

He raises an eyebrow. “I thought all you ever wanted was books and chocolate?”

“That’s still true… but I thought maybe we could invite Eddie and his uncle.”

Silence. Steve blinks. “Invite them? Here? For Christmas dinner?”

You nod eagerly. “Yes. I mean… they don’t have anyone. And they deserve a nice Christmas. And… Christmas is supposed to be, like… kind.”

“A kind Christmas. Here,” Steve repeats dryly.

You groan. “Come on. Please. You like him too.”

Steve frowns, but you see the hesitation — not a flat-out no.

“He’s got style, I’ll give him that. And he treats you like a princess. As if you’re not spoiled enough already.”

You swat his arm. “That’s mean.”

“That’s the truth.”

Then he sighs and leans against the counter. “Okay. If you want him to come… I’m in. But you know how Mom and Dad are. They barely accepted your black nail polish.”

“That’s why I need you. If their golden boy wants something, they can’t say no.”

He grins and rips open the chip bag. “Gonna be my best performance yet. Promise.”

That evening, you sit together in the living room. Your parents are already in the Christmas spirit — your dad sipping wine, your mom blasting Christmas music far too early and far too loud. Last Christmas is ringing in your ears, and no one notices how restless you are on the couch.

As the song changes, Steve gives you a discreet nod.

“Mom, Dad,” you begin, “we had a little idea for Christmas dinner.”

“‘We’?” your mom asks suspiciously, glancing between you and Steve.

“Completely harmless,” Steve says with his best charm-smile — the one he uses when he’s done something dumb, or now, when he wants something.

“We’d like to invite Eddie Munson. And his uncle Wayne.”

“Munson?” your dad asks, barely shaking his head.

“Aren’t they the ones in the trailer park?” your mom adds, face twisting slightly.

“Yes, that’s them!” you blurt.

“He’s a really good guy,” Steve adds quickly. “Seriously. He’s been through a lot, but he takes care of his people. He helps his uncle, he plays in a band, works hard, and — most importantly — he means a lot to your daughter. And to me.”

He doesn’t even look at you as he says it — only at your parents.

“That’s true,” you murmur.

Your mother looks at you, surprised. Your father tilts his head.

“He’s really nice,” Steve continues. “Not a loser. He’s smart, loyal, totally charming in this scatterbrained kind of way — and they love each other. Even if they haven’t said it yet.”

You glare at Steve — he’s supposed to help, not throw you to the wolves. But Steve seems to know what he’s doing. Instead of looking horrified or angry, your parents just look mildly surprised.

They exchange a glance. Then your mom smiles gently. “So… you’re saying he’s your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” you say calmly. “And I want you to meet him. And Wayne, too. They’re… a family. Just the two of them.”

Your dad sighs deeply, but then nods. “All right. If he’s that important to you.”

“He is,” you say without hesitation.

Your mother suddenly beams. “Oh, our first Christmas with your boyfriend! I’ll have to make the good roast. And set two extra places. And… do you think he likes cinnamon stars?”

“He’ll love everything you make, Mom,” you say quickly — and she beams.

You glance at Steve again. He winks. Mission accomplished.

But there’s one more mission to tackle — and this time, Steve can’t help you.

You find Eddie in his room, crouched next to his guitar amp, fingers dusty, a screwdriver in his mouth. When he sees you, he grins crookedly and pulls the tool out.

“Hey, princess. Christmas angel come to visit?”

“More like Christmas boss,” you say, leaning against the wall.

“Oh no,” he mutters. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Yet. But you’re going to.”

Eddie puts the screwdriver down and squints. “Okay, now I’m scared.”

You take a few steps toward him. “You and Wayne. You’re coming to our place for Christmas.”

“…What?”

“For dinner. On the 24th. My parents are already excited.”

“Wait. What?!” Eddie jumps up, nearly hitting his head on the shelf, looking at you like you just told him he’d be working as a stripper. A Santa stripper.

“You… invited us?”

“No,” you say calmly. “I signed you up. ‘Invited’ makes it sound like you had a choice.”

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, pacing. “Oh God. No. I can’t. I can’t do this! I don’t have a good shirt. Wayne has one, but it has a burn hole. What if I say something dumb? Or break something? Or your dad looks at me and knows I once stole a fire extinguisher for fun?”

You try not to laugh.

“Eddie.”

“No, seriously! I’ll embarrass myself. I’ll say something about Satan or Metallica, and your mom will faint. And what if they hate me? Or worse — what if they look at you and think: What the hell does she want with him? Heaven, darling," he says, rolling up his sleeve, "I have tattoos! What do you think they'll say about that?" You look at the little bats and wonder how he could seriously think that would change anything.

“Eddie.”

“I mean, I don’t even have a stupid Christmas sweater. And Wayne… he’ll probably have a panic attack when I tell him. This is… this is…”

You step closer, cup his cheek — and kiss him.

It’s a slow, quiet kiss. No fireworks. No drama. Just: Stop. You’re safe.

His shoulders relax under your hands, his arms slip gently around your waist. When you pull back, he’s just inches away. His eyes are soft. Quiet. You run your fingers gently along his neck.

“It’s going to be amazing,” you whisper. “Promise.”

He closes his eyes for a second, then exhales deeply. “If you say so… I believe you.”

Later, after you’ve gone, Eddie is alone in the trailer again. Wayne walks in, brushing snow off his shoulders.

“Hey, kid. Was that your lady heading out just now?”

Eddie nods, nervously chewing his lip.

“She… uh… invited us to Christmas dinner. At her parents’ place.”

Wayne freezes mid-motion. Then his eyes light up.

“Well damn. ‘Bout time someone recognized what fine manners us old rednecks have.”

Eddie laughs, though his stomach still churns.

Wayne heads to the closet, opens the creaky door, and pulls out a hanger with an old, but clean, suit.

“Knew I shouldn’t throw this out. For emergencies and funerals.”

“So it’s more of a funeral suit?”

“Depends on how the dinner goes,” Wayne grins.

Eddie watches him inspect the suit, dust it off. Despite Wayne’s enthusiasm, a knot remains in his stomach.

What if they look at him and see he doesn’t belong? That he’s not from their world? What if they don’t think he’s good enough — for her?

But then he remembers the kiss. Her fingers at his neck. Her voice, steady and sure:

“It’s going to be amazing.”

And he thinks… Maybe. Maybe it really will be.

₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽ @walleloveseve

@jeangeniex

@cheesesandwichsanto

@your-nightmaredoll

@foreveranexpatsposts

@fandom-princess-forevermore

[sapphire4082]

I HATE THAT I STILL WANT TO KISS YOU

Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem! Summary: does Eddie miss you too? Warnings: mention of smoking A/N: she's kind of a shorty, but we get a lot of Eddie's pov.

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Eddie froze.

Like completely. Breath hitched. Muscles locked. Words stuck somewhere between his chest and throat. You’d just said that. Out loud. Like it was easy. Like it didn’t rip the sky open and send him reeling all over again.

And fuck you for that.

Because now his brain was running through every version of that sentence you might’ve said to someone else. Every guy who looked at you twice while he was trying to forget what your voice sounded like. Every night he told himself it didn’t matter anymore.

And now you missed him?

He looked at you- really looked this time. Not the quick glance he gave when he first saw you in the record store, he should’ve turned and walked the other way when he realised it was you.

Why didn't he?

You looked nervous. Your foot wasn’t tapping anymore, and your hands were still. Your face was still. Too still. And that’s when he realized you meant it.

He hated that you looked like you meant it.

Because the second those words left your mouth, the part of him he’d been trying to shut up for the past month, the part that whispered maybe you cared, maybe you were sorry, maybe you didn’t want to let go either.

That part was screaming now.

He missed you too. He missed you so much it made him sick sometimes.

But he didn’t say that. He didn’t give you that.

He just stared, jaw tight, heart loud.

Because if he let himself say it back, even just once, he might not be able to leave. Might not be able to stop himself from falling right back into the feeling you gave him- warm and wild and dangerous. And he wasn’t sure he could survive losing that again.

So he swallowed the words.

Swallowed them whole until they burned like whiskey in his chest.

You missed him.

And he wanted to scream, “Then why did you let me go?”

But he didn’t.

He just stepped back, eyes unreadable, voice hollow.

“Thanks,” he said, voice low and dry.

Like that was all he could offer.

Like that was all your words deserved.

And he hated himself for it.

Despite the heat of the afternoon, a cold knot formed in his stomach- part dread, part longing. He could still feel your gaze on his back, as if your disappointment had physical weight dragging him down.

He kept standing there, head bowed, but his mind raced: Why can’t I just say it? Why do I have to make everything so much harder?

Why was it so hard?

Because he didn't want to give you that satisfaction, you told him to leave, you wanted him gone, so why would he give two shits about what you think anymore.

ps. he does.

You nodded slowly at his word; you didn't expect him to say it back. but you expected more than 'thanks'

He could have yelled at you, and you would have felt better than you do now.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around then..." you spoke in a hush, gripping onto the plastic bag with your new CD's inside it tightly.

Then you stepped away, slowly backing away from his van, thankfully taking his sign that he doesn't want you near him

You paused like maybe you thought he might say more.

He didn’t.

Not at first.

He just stood there, hand on the door handle, eyes flicking up to you and back down again.

You weren’t blocking the door anymore. You’d moved, like you were giving him space. Like you were leaving him alone, just like he’d asked for.

And it should’ve been over. Clean exit. But it wasn’t.

He shifted his weight.

"Look…" he started, then stopped. Rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t really know what you want me to say.”

Your mouth opened a little like you might respond, but nothing came out.

He exhaled, short and sharp. “You say you missed me. Okay. That’s… whatever. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that now.”

You nodded, slow. “I’m not expecting anything.”

“Good,” he said quickly. Too quickly. Then backtracked, tone softer. “I mean… I don’t know what you expect, is all. Last time we talked, you made it pretty clear.”

“I know,” you said, almost whispering. “I know I did.”

There was a pause. Not angry. Just quiet. Careful.

“I didn’t come here to fix everything,” you said. “I just… saw you, and I said it. That’s all.”

He studied your face. You didn’t look like you were trying to win him over. You looked tired. A little nervous. Honest, maybe.

He didn’t like that. Because it made him feel something again, and he’d been doing a decent job not feeling anything for a while now.

He nodded once, slow. “Okay.”

You gave a faint smile. Not happy. Just... polite. Like you weren’t sure what else to give him.

Then you started to turn again.

And goddammit, his voice came out before he could stop it.

“Just… don’t do that.”

You looked back at him, confused. “Don’t do what?”

“Say stuff like that and then walk away,” he muttered, eyes on the ground now. “It screws with my head.”

You didn’t say anything.

He looked up again, face blank, voice flat. “I’m not saying I believe you. Or that anything’s different.”

“I get that,” you said. “I do.”

He nodded once more, hand gripping the door handle again, knuckles pale.

Then, quieter: “Just don’t make it worse.”

You hesitated. “I’m not trying to.”

He didn’t answer that.

Didn’t say goodbye, either.

He just opened the door, climbed in, and shut it gently behind him.

But he didn’t start the engine for a long time.

And he made sure that you had walked away, all the way around the corner before he let out a long sigh, leaning back in his seat as he shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a cig and lighter.

He lit it with a flick, the flame catching quicker than he expected, and he cupped his hand around it anyway, out of habit more than anything. Smoke curled up into the stale air of the van, and he let it sit in his lungs for a second before exhaling, eyes fixed on the windshield, but not really seeing anything.

What the hell was that?

You, standing there like nothing had happened. Like a month hadn’t passed with you not saying a word. Like he hadn’t spent every other night wondering if you even thought about him.

And then just... “I missed you.”

He scoffed under his breath, flicked ash out the open window.

He shouldn’t have said anything. Should’ve just nodded, or ignored it, or gotten in the van and driven off like a normal person who’s over it.

But he wasn’t. That was the whole problem.

He took another drag, thumb tapping lightly against the steering wheel. He hated how fast his chest had lit up when you said those words. Like it was waiting. Like some pathetic part of him still thought you were gonna show up and make it make sense.

And maybe you did. Kind of. But also… not really.

He didn’t trust it. Couldn’t, not yet. Not after how it ended, how it felt like he was the only one holding on while you were halfway out the door already.

Still, you didn’t look like you were lying.

That’s what got him.

You looked like you meant it. Nervous and unsure and honest.

It’d be easier if you hadn’t.

He sighed again, letting the smoke trail out slowly, watching it fade in the air. He should’ve yelled. Or at least said something clearer than “thanks” and “don’t make it worse.” What the hell did that even mean?

But now it was too late. You were gone again.

And he didn’t know if you’d come back.

So, he sat there, cigarette burning low between his fingers, heart heavy in his chest, and no answers coming to mind.

Just your voice echoing back in his head, soft and careful.

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You walked down the street toward your car, bag of CDs swinging lightly at your side, trying not to let your heart run too far ahead of you.

It hadn’t gone terribly. That alone felt like a miracle.

And okay, yeah, he looked good. Too good. Annoyingly good. Like he'd gotten even more himself somehow. The hair a little longer, his jacket more broken in, a few new patches on his jeans. He looked like someone who didn’t care what anyone thought of him. And that used to scare you, back then. Now it kind of made your stomach flip.

You sighed as you unlocked your car door, glancing up the street once, but you didn’t see him anymore. Not that you expected to. He’d stayed quiet, tense and kept his distance even when you were inches away. But he didn’t walk away. That meant something, right?

He hadn’t wanted you there. That part was clear. You could feel it in the way he stood, arms crossed, jaw locked like he was bracing for something. But still… you got more than a hi out of him.

A little sarcasm, sure. Some attitude. But you’d take that over nothing. You knew him well enough to know silence from Eddie meant walls up, doors shut. And he talked to you.

That alone felt like a crack in something.

You tried not to read too much into it. You really did.

But part of you kept wondering. If he was really leaving… why is he still here? You didn’t say it out loud, but it bounced around in your head the whole way to your car. Hawkins wasn’t the kind of place you stuck around in unless you had to. And Eddie never exactly kept it secret that he wanted out.

So why didn’t he go?

And why, when you saw him today, did it feel like he was still deciding?

You got in, started your car, and let your fingers drum against the steering wheel for a second before backing out. You didn’t have answers. Not yet.

But for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like it was over. Maybe it still hurt. Maybe he didn’t forgive you, and maybe you didn’t know how to fix it. But you talked.

And he looked good.

God, he looked really good.

And only God knows you were thinking about those perfect lips of his, looking more plump than usual, sunk between his teeth in frustration when he talked to you.

And he totally wasn't thinking the same thing.

And he hates that he still wants to kiss the fuck out of you.

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Taglist:

@exploding-bonbon @xlostitx   @pupwrites  @carolineesnell @foreveranexpatsposts @itsmadamehydra   @thedoubleexposurephotography @g3n3zshack  @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @emxxblog  @nubedeoctubreval @bimboshaggy @sheneedsrocknroll92  @callmytherapistplease-blog @ifeelbadbutimhot @littlemissholy  @sammybrrr @alastorssimp @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e @hazydespair @eddiesguitarskills

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[sapphire4082]

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 10

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: You establish a truce.

Word Count: 6k

Divider was created by the lovely and talented @hellfire--cult❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Spring, 1994

There was a sort of comfort to be found in the smells and sounds of your office that Friday afternoon. The earthy scent of your third cup of coffee wafted over you as you carried it back to your desk amidst the clicking and clacking of fingers on keyboards. Only about three more hours remained of the workday, and you could feel everyone’s anticipation in the air already. 

You waited until you were settled back in your desk chair to take your first sip; you gently blew away the curling steam, touched the rim of your mug to a lipsticked lip, and-

Brrrrrrrriiiiingggg! 

Sighing dejectedly, you set the coffee down on your desk before picking up the phone and parroting the standard company greeting into the microphone.

“Hey, it’s uh.. Eddie.”

You blinked. “Hi.” you paused, then when he didn’t say anything, added, “Why are you calling me at work?”

“Well, you left your work number on a post-it, so I figured it would be okay to call…”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, if there’s an emergency. Is this an emergency, Eddie?”

“Eh…kinda?” you hadn’t noticed at first, but now you were starting to register some kind of noise on his end that sounded like arguing voices. 

“Who’s there with you?” 

“Did you invite your old roommate to come over this weekend?”

You slapped your palm to your forehead when it dawned on you that you hadn’t even thought to ask Eddie if he minded Kate coming over this weekend. Even worse, she’d called yesterday mentioning that she had some business near your apartment today so you’d told her to come over when her business was finished and just start her weekend with you a day early. 

“Crap, Eddie I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to ask if you’d mind Kate staying there tonight-”

“No need to apologize,” Eddie cut you off, “because it seems I’ve made a similar mistake.”

Now you could definitely make out Kate’s voice in the background, and she was arguing with someone whose ability to match her fiery tone was surprising and honestly a little impressive, knowing Kate. 

“Do you remember Gareth Emerson? From Hawkins?”

You nodded, remembering the freckled, curly-topped bracefaced kid who’d idolized Eddie since the first time he’d sat with your group at the Hellfire table at lunch. “Yeah, he was that freshman with the curly hair, right?”

“Yep, still curly and still an ornery shit. I invited him to come up and see the place for the weekend, and I also forgot to check with you to make sure it would be okay, so sorry about that-” 

Eddie was cut off by a particularly loud outburst from Kate- you caught the words entitled and child somewhere in there. 

“He wasn’t supposed to get here until tomorrow but he got bored and headed up early without telling me!” Eddie emphasized the last three words loud enough so Gareth could hear them loud and clear, and you heard Gareth’s fuzzy response in the background say ‘Good to see you too, asshole!’

“Yeah, so long story short, now they’re both here and they’re arguing over the couch.”

“Hand Kate the phone, please.” You sighed. Within a moment, you heard your friend’s disgruntled voice huffing through the speaker. 

“Okay, Tattoo Guy I don’t mind. His friend is an asscrack with a lip ring and I do not like him.”

Both men must have been standing nearby, because you heard faint responses from both of them through the receiver. A bewildered ‘Tattoo Guy?’ from Eddie, and a snarky ‘Feeling’s mutual, princess.’ from Gareth.

“Sorry for the mixup,” You said calmly, “it seems we both invited a friend to stay over tonight and forgot to tell each other.” You kept your voice even and quiet. Kate was usually pretty level-headed, but difficult to reason with when she got riled up. Calming her down was priority number one. “You can just sleep with me in my room, it doesn’t have to be a big deal-”

“But he’s so annoying-”

“-And this way, you and I get our own space where he’s not allowed!” you cut her off with blazing positivity, which usually worked wonders. Unsurprisingly, her response sounded significantly less venomous.

“...You have a point.” She gave you another one of those pauses where you can tell she’s about so say something else. 

“But…?” you supplied.

“‘But’ nothing, you have a point, that’s it.”

You smiled wryly, “So you don’t feel like you’re losing some kind of competition right now?”

“Of course I feel like I’m losing a competition right now, he’s grinning at me like a smug little shit.” You heard a musical cackle as she said that, followed by a loud Ow! and an abrupt end to the cackling.

You snorted. “Try not to kill each other until I get home, ‘kay?”

“Fine.” Kate replied, and if you didn’t know better, you might have thought you heard a smile in her voice as she bade you goodbye before hanging up the phone. 

When you finally made it home, you were surprised to be greeted by the fragrant scent of tomatoes and fresh herbs wafting over you. 

“What’s going on in here?” you asked, turning the corner into the small kitchen. Eddie stood in front of the stove, stirring what looked like tomato sauce in a large saucepan that you’d all but forgotten you owned. 

“Well, when I realized there would be four mouths to feed tonight, I decided I’d make a little grocery run.” He peered over at a large pot of cloudy, boiling water and grabbed a slotted ladle to fish out a single piece of spaghetti from the water and test it. “Hope you’re in the mood for spaghetti and meatballs, should be ready in a few minutes.”

You took in the state of your kitchen- the plethora of pots and pans, the array of ingredients and empty cans of crushed tomatoes scattered across every surface the eye could see. You never made this much of a mess when you were baking; years of cakes and muffins and chocolate chip cookies had taught you to clean as you went, leaving the kitchen spotless by the time that the goods came out of the oven. Eddie, obviously, hadn’t learned the same lesson. 

You sighed, rolling your eyes and shaking your head slightly. “And you were going to clean all of this up yourself, I’m guessing? Or did you expect us to do it?” 

“I hope these meatballs are good, they’re the only vegetarian option I could find.” Eddie shook his head as he cooked, glancing at you as you stood behind him completely stunned. When you didn’t answer, he arched an eyebrow. 

“What, is this brand bad? Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that cashier; he said he’d tried it but that kid just looked like he was lying-”

“No, I’ve tried those, they’re good.” you reassured, quiet now and still unsure of what to do with this new information. Eddie remembered you were a vegetarian. After years of not speaking, he’d remembered this detail and accommodated for you- that was more than your own extended family did, sometimes. More than your coworkers with whom you’d worked for years bothered to remember. 

But here was Eddie Munson, cooking everyone meatless meatballs just so you weren’t left out.

“Try this, tell me if it needs more salt.” Eddie said, scooping a sip of cherry-red tomato sauce into a serving spoon and bringing it to you with a protective hand hovering underneath, completely ignoring your question. 

And there was something strange about the way you felt in that moment when, after all these years, you were standing in a tiny New York apartment with Eddie Munson and his wide, hopeful brown eyes, and he was holding a spoon to your lips and asking if his pasta sauce needed more salt. What option did you have, other than to open your lips for him, taste the pasta, smile, and tell him that it was perfect? What other choice was there, really? 

Eddie smiled, eagerly sipping the rest himself. “You’re sure? You don’t think I overdid the garlic?”

“Not at all,” you reassured him, picking up the tomato sauce cans and rinsing them out in the sink before tossing them in the recycle bin. “I don’t think anyone in this place will mind if you put a little extra garlic in something.”

Eddie grabbed a strainer full of cooked spaghetti and began to pour it into the pot of sauce. “You sure? Kate’s not a vampire or something?” 

“Well, she’s never told me she’s not a vampire.” you shrugged, “So I guess we’ll find out for sure when she eats the pasta.”

You went to grab the strainer once its carby contents had been emptied from it, but Eddie beat you to it. “Hey, I really was going to clean afterwards,” he said meekly. “You can go sit down, I’ve got this.”

You leveled your gaze at him, gently taking the strainer from his hands. “I’ve been sitting down all day. Besides, you’re cooking dinner for everyone, the rest of us can handle cleanup.” 

All of the frustration that had begun bubbling in your gut at the sight of his mess was gone now. How did he always do this? Make you forget his transgressions, his flaws… with puppy dog eyes? In an instant? You needed to toughen up.

“So where are-”

“-the children?” Eddie finished. “Sequestered in our rooms. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone match Gareth’s capacity for bickering within the first minute of meeting him, but there’s a first time for everything.”

You winced. “Kate can be… headstrong.” 

“So can Gare.” Eddie grinned. “I’m glad he’s met his match. Maybe she’ll humble him.”

You found the match in question sitting cross-legged on the floor flipping through a magazine you’d left on your bedspread that morning. Upon seeing you, she huffed and pouted as she stood to wrap you in a hug.

“The Southern Living subscription still has both our names on it!” 

You patted her back as she whined into your shoulder. “I know sweetie.”

“But we aren’t roommates anymore, and next time I come over I’m going to find an issue of one of these and it’ll just be your name!”

“You moved across town.” you stated calmly, sinking to her level on the soft woven area rug. “We didn’t break up. I’m not going to boot you off the Southern Living subscription, I promise.” 

Kate looked up at you then, eyes wide but smiling now. “You promise?”

You chuckled, tackling Kate in a hug before gently prying the Southern Living from her anxious grip. “You are so dramatic. Yes, I promise. Now give me this so I can put it in your bag.”

The two of you emerged from your room then (after some serious coaxing on your end) and were greeted by the sight of a gangly, pierced, curly-topped man draped across the expanse of your corduroy couch.

Upon seeing Kate’s glare over your shoulder, the man leveled his gaze and smirked as he sort of shimmied himself deeper into the couch’s cushions. 

“Mmmm, cozy. I’m gonna sleep so good on this thing-”

“So well, you mean?” Kate practically barked back. “Or did you flunk your fourth grade grammar lessons?”

The man’s- whom you could only assume was Gareth Emerson- expression soured as he muttered to himself, “What is it with everyone correcting my grammar lately?” before refocusing on you and doing his best to appear civil and polite. “You’re the roommate?”

You nodded in confirmation. “I’m the roommate.”

He grinned, reaching out his hand which you accepted with a friendly shake. “I’m Gareth. It’s nice to meet you.”

“We’ve met before, actually.” you amended, “I was a senior when you were a freshman.”

“So I’ve been told. Don’t remember much other than the year-long rain cloud Eddie had over his head after you graduated-”

“Dude!”

Eddie’s voice sliced through the conversation, whipping your attention around to face him over the short breakfast bar. His eyes were wide, and he was frozen in place as his gaze darted from Gareth to you. 

The two of you hadn’t spoken about the elephant in the room since Eddie moved in. Not a word about the friendship you’d shared or the more that it could’ve been or its abrupt ending ten years ago- now, Gareth had revealed something about the aftermath of that relationship that you hadn’t known: when you’d left, Eddie had changed. 

You didn’t know how, and you weren’t sure exactly why- but he’d been different after you’d moved away. Vanity told you it was because of you, that he’d been riddled with guilt after the way he’d ended things, but you knew it could be all manner of things that might have caused him to change. 

Either way, you couldn’t help but think that this must have been how Eddie had felt when he walked through your door to take in your apartment and the life it held. This piece, this crumb of Eddie’s life after you’d stepped out of it? You wanted more and you wanted it now. 

But the way Eddie was watching you- like he was watching a flame slowly consume a precious thing and he could do nothing but stand by and watch- sent a pang of sympathy through you. That pang was followed by a rush of fury at your heart for having the audacity to feel sympathetic to the man who’d made you feel so hurt, so crazy, so toyed with all those years ago. He should be terrified. You should make him squirm. Let him marinate in the truth he built for himself, if only for a second. 

But you didn’t.

“Is dinner ready?” You asked, turning on your heel and making your way toward the kitchen. You heard a muttered “What did I say?” behind you, followed by a whump! And an “Ow!”

“Yeah,” Eddie answered, sighing through the word with relief at your subject change. “Grab a bowl.”

Dinner was surprisingly comfortable, once everyone agreed to the unspoken oath that they would not bring up anything prior to 1984. Or immediately after it. Everyone stuck to casual topics- tv shows, Kate’s new apartment, work- and the energy in the room remained altogether pleasant. 

Later in the evening, everyone had retired to their respective sleeping arrangements, and you and Kate were lying side by side in your bed in the almost-darkness. The small television was your only light as the sounds of The Princess Bride played just loud enough to mask your conversation.

“So you two haven’t talked yet?” 

“We talk,” you replied, shrugging slightly. “We talked all throughout dinner, you were there.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

You sighed, flopping from your side onto your back to stare at the ceiling. “I know.” 

Kate mimicked your movement, moving into a perfect reflection of you as she joined you in gazing at the white popcorned drywall. “You know you’re going to have to talk about everything eventually.”

“I know.”

“So why not just rip off the bandaid?” 

You jerked your head to the side, giving her a sidelong glance. “You wanna rip it off for me?”

Kate smiled sympathetically. “Babe, you know I would if I could but there are only two people in this world who are qualified to do so in this specific situation and I am not one of them.” 

You gave her a half smile, hoping it didn’t look as much like a wince as it felt. “I just…” you started, struggling to get your thoughts into a straight line. This whole situation was so… tangled. “...I don’t think I should have to be the one to bring it up. He’s the one who ruined everything. To rub his nose in it like a dog…” You paused, cringing at the mental image. “I shouldn’t have to. He’s a grown-ass man, he can apologize to me first and then we’ll talk it out. But no, I’m not bringing it up first.”

You felt Kate’s hand find yours and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Aye aye, captain.” She whispered. 

“Alright! Agenda for today-”

Kate’s all-business tone called the attention of everyone in the apartment. Each of you was still pajama-clad, having taken up a spot on either a couch or a chair at the kitchen table. The sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon still wafted through the air from the cinnamon rolls you’d baked fresh the moment you’d woken up. 

“First,” Kate continued, “we hit the farmers’ market at Union Square. Next-”

“-We stop at The Ink Shop.” Eddie interjected, speaking around a rather large bite of cinnamon roll. “Guy in charge called yesterday and told me to stop in this weekend if I could.”

You twisted around from your spot at the table to look at him, “Wait, does that mean you’ve got the job?”

Eddie swallowed, eyes wide as his throat struggled against too much going down too quickly, but by the grin on that man’s face, no one could tell. You not only sounded like you didn’t hate his guts, but you actually sounded excited for him- he was on cloud nine, this was progress. “That’s what I’m hoping! The guy on the phone didn’t guarantee anything, but I’m optimistic.”

“Eddie, that's awesome! They’d be idiots to turn you down.”

And just like that, Eddie was sitting in your dad’s little wooden shed in the backyard again. Just like that, he was being shaken to his core by a girl who looked at him and saw someone who was worth believing in. Someone who was worth a chance.

…Which you’d given to him. And he’d blown.

His heart sank to his stomach as quickly as it’d begun to soar. Eddie hoped it wasn’t evident on his face how much your faith in him- however casual or miniscule it might be- made him feel as if gravity were something that didn’t apply to him. 

Eddie cleared his throat before flashing you a small, humble smile. “Thanks. For the sake of the rent, I’m hoping they aren’t idiots.”

Neither of you noticed, but throughout that entire exchange Kate’s eyes were darting back and forth between the two of you like a tennis ball at Wimbledon. Now, you were both silently smiling at each other, the silence perfumed by sweet, sticky cinnamon in the small apartment. 

“...Okaaayy, so we stop at The Ink Shop after dropping groceries off here.” Kate purred, quirking a knowing grin at the way the two of you looked down at your plates after realizing how long you’d been staring. “Anyone have any lunch ideas, or are we winging it?”

“There’s an Indian place by The Ink Shop,” Eddie suggested, getting up from his spot on the couch to bring his empty plate to the kitchen and rinse it. He continued over the soft streaming of the faucet, “I tried it the other day and I haven’t stopped thinking about their garlic naan.” 

Gareth made a sound not far from a moan, slumping against the couch cushions as he continued to chew his cinnamon roll. “Ohmyguhd, Ndian fuhd shounsh sho guhd!”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t even finished with breakfast, and you’re already moaning about lunch?” 

Gareth’s loud gulp as he swallowed his food was punctuated by a defensive scoff. “Excuse you, Indian food is always worth moaning about. The current status of my appetite makes no difference.”

Kate looked ready to spit a comeback at him, but for some reason she came up empty. After a few seconds of silence while she stared at him looking partially frustrated and partially amused, she changed the subject. 

“Alright, well if everyone is cool with Indian food then we’ll stop there after Eddie’s job interview.”

“It isn’t a job interview-” Eddie protested, but Kate quickly waved a hand as if his protests were annoying little flies. 

“Fine, after Eddie’s casual check in with the boss of the place he’d like to work at, we’ll all get Indian food.” She grinned at you, “Sounds like we’ve got a plan!”

Your Saturday outing as a foursome proved fruitful and- surprisingly- not very awkward, given that your party was comprised of two estranged high school friends and two newly-enemies.

You had assumed that it would only be a matter of time before you all split into gendered groups- you and Kate would go one way, and the ink-riddled, curly-topped duo would go the other. The opposite, however, turned out to be true. 

“I’m getting a breakfast burrito.” Gareth had announced about ten minutes into your foray into the market. “I saw a guy selling them back by the entrance, I’ll go get one and find you guys later.”

Kate rolled her eyes at Gareth, arms crossed over her chest. You didn’t miss the way Gareth’s eyes darted down to her cleavage when she did so- you wondered if Kate caught that, too. 

“No,” she sighed, “you are not. This place is chaos for someone who’s been here before, much less someone who hasn’t. You’re going to get lost and then we’ll spend an hour just looking for you.”

Gareth snorted, crossing his arms to match her tit for tat (pun intended). “Wow, you really think so little of me? I’m a grown ass man.”

Kate scoffed, “Hah! You’re hardly grown-”

“So just an ass man then? You know I used to think that too, but now-” Gareth wasn’t being shy about his line of sight now as he allowed his pointed gaze to zero in on the generous V of Kate’s neckline. “-now I’m not so sure.” 

Kate’s face was one of absolute shock. Before she could say anything, however, Gareth simply smiled and began to march in the direction of where (he thought) the breakfast burritos were. Kate followed close behind, already rattling off the laundry list of adjectives she would use to describe him- none of them good. 

That left you and Eddie.

The two of you had learned how to be silent with each other over the few days that you’d been rooming together. Where the quiet pauses between your conversations had originally been unbearably awkward, they were now simply one step behind comfortable. The fact that the two of you were getting used to being quiet around each other, however… that in itself was strange enough. Even before, all those years ago in what felt like another life, there was always some kind of noise. Whether it be the constant shrill of an electric guitar or Eddie’s incessant yapping (which had been your favorite sound, once upon a time), there was always something to fill your ears. 

That was why things felt somewhat normal now- the market was buzzing with countless sounds, sights and smells. When you dared to sneak a glance at Eddie out of the corner of your eye, you saw how his gaze was darting from booth to booth, eagerly taking in every sight this place had to offer. 

You broke the silence first. “Anything look good?”

Eddie chuckled, eyes flicking to you for a half-second before resuming their dragonfly pace. “Oh that isn’t the issue. I’ve never seen so much produce in my life. Only problem is that I don’t have a job yet and I want to buy all of it.”

“Nah, that job is yours.” you reassured him, noncommittally perusing the offerings of a nearby vegetable stand. “Like I said, they’d be idiots to turn you down.” 

Eddie shook his head. “As flattering as that is, you haven’t really seen any of my professional work.”

“Has it improved since high school?” you countered.

“Hope so.” Eddie shrugged. 

You smiled. “Then it’s gone from good to great.”

You could’ve sworn he blushed then. 

That now-familiar, comfortable quiet settled between the two of you as your attention fell to the variety of vegetables before you. Your eyes fluidly swept over all the offerings on the stand until snagging on one carrot in particular; a shorter, thick carrot that had split off into two at the base, though the  second carrot had broken off close to the leafy top. On the other side, the base had grown a strangely spherical lump. Altogether the strange looking carrot was left with two bulbous parts on either side with the actual vegetable stretching proudly in a long rod from base to tip.

It kind of looked like a…

You snorted, and to your surprise Eddie did the exact same thing right next to you. You glanced at him, and found his eyes laughing just as much as yours. His eyes darted from you, to the carrot, and back before bursting into raucous laughter, which you joined instantly. 

His laugh had always been contagious, and you had always been susceptible. 

The two of you carried on laughing until you realized that the owner of the vegetable stand was staring at the two of you with a confused, borderline offended look on her face. 

“Sorry!” you said, waving apologetically even though you were still laughing. “We… I mean, he said something really funny! Your vegetables are great, you have, um, great stuff! Really good stuff!” 

All the while, Eddie continued laughing his ass off, his mirth obviously escalating with every defensive word out of your mouth. You grabbed him by the arm and tugged him past the vegetable stand, the two of you struggling to overcome your fits of giggles.

“My God, are we children?” You asked no one in particular, covering your face with your hands. “That was so dumb, it was only a carrot-” but then, you were laughing again, along with Eddie. 

He looked at you, doubled over and laughing hysterically at a phallic-shaped root vegetable, and realized it was the first time in ten years that he’d seen you laugh the way you used to- unbridled joy, running wild and free and dancing in the air like bells on the wind. 

He’d forgotten that laugh. It was like Christmas. 

Eddie cleared his throat, sighing through the downswing of his laughing fit. “Yeah, my art may have matured, but my sense of humor sure hasn’t.” 

You  wheezed, composing yourself. “You’re forgiven.” You replied, smirking as you continued to walk through the aisle of vendors.

“I’m forgiven?” Eddie scoffed, trotting after to catch up to you. “You were right there laughing at it with me!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the picture of maturity.”

“Yeah? Picture the carrot cock again.”

You snorted. “Carrot cock?” you laughed, a cackle threatening to break free. 

“Hah!” Eddie wagged a finger in your face, that devious smile you remember so well stretching across his face. It did something to you, something painful or beautiful or both. “There it is! You’re just as mature as I am.” 

Walking alongside each other like this- the ease with which the banter came, the impulse to nudge his shoulder with your own and flash him a smile from days long gone. You weren’t sure that smile would even fit anymore.

This easiness… you weren’t sure you liked it. He didn’t deserve easy. 

Eddie knew it, too. This tentative comfort between the two of you right now was like some kind of delicate, winged creature- something to be protected. Something that could be crushed in an instant, and he was so scared to overstep or or scare you back behind the wall you’d put up between you two. 

He opened his mouth and took a breath, unsure of what he should say. “I’m sorry” or “this is nice” felt too close to the uncanny valley between the present and the past. 

Before Eddie could even settle on something to say, you beat him to the punch. 

“We should probably find Kate before she strangles Gareth.”

Your gaze was long gone. In fact, he was pretty sure you were making a point of avoiding him. Eyes trained determinedly forward, you marched back in the direction you’d both come from. 

“Sounds good.” Eddie complied, following you as he contemplated which felt worse- his relief at your departure from the fragile uncertainty on which that ease between you had balanced, or his disappointment that- once again- he was forgetting what your laugh sounded like. 

“Would you stop that?”

Kate’s voice was pure loathing as she narrowed her eyes on Gareth’s lighter, which he’d been flicking on and off and on again for the past ten minutes. The three of you had been waiting outside the tattoo shop for far longer than the “sec” that Eddie had said he would be in there, and you were starting to worry that you’d have to play referee between these two if you had to wait much longer. 

Gareth swivelled his head to the side, arching a brow at Kate before a grin stretched across his mouth. His lips parted to reply just before the door swung open, revealing a giddy Eddie smiling ear to ear. 

“I got the spot!” he exclaimed. “I have to do walk-ins on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I get to set my own schedule and the shop minimum is eighty dollars. Eighty fucking dollars, dude! Back in Chicago I was lucky if I made that in a day!”

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Gareth cheered, clapping Eddie on the back. “Looks like you don’t suck!”

When Eddie turned to you, it was so hard- so hard- to not jump up and down the way you would have before. Instead, you settled with a small smile in his direction.

“Like I said,” you added, quietly. “they would have been idiots to turn you down.” 

To celebrate Eddie’s successful job acquisition, the four of you wound up going to a favorite bar of yours that evening. 

Jupiter House was the perfect place for enjoying live music, cheap drinks, and good company. The small concrete stage in the front of the narrow, neon-lit club boasted a local grunge band tonight, whom you were currently watching tune their guitars as Eddie approached with four drinks precariously balanced in his hands. 

“Where’s Kate?” Eddie asked, placing the glasses gingerly on your table before hopping up to sit on the barstool adjacent to yours.

“Bathroom.” you answered, reaching for your whiskey sour. “Where’s Gareth?”

He nodded toward the bar, “Puppy found a squirrel to chase.” 

You followed his gaze, finding Gareth leaning casually against the tiled bar top as he chatted up some girl with an oil-slick pixie cut and bright red lipstick. 

You rolled your eyes. “Is that pretty standard bar behavior for him?” you asked. Eddie chuckled, gazing over at Gareth with a mixture of fondness and amusement in his eyes.

“The trying is pretty standard, yeah. The success rate, however…” Eddie clicked his tongue, tilting his head skeptically. “That’s a bit more hit or miss, I’m afraid.”

You laughed quietly into your drink. “Proud of him for shooting for the stars, though.” You said, “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

Eddie made a face at that, an eyebrow quirking upward as that tell-tale smirk began taking shape on his lips. Even after all these years, your body still reacted the same way it always has to that smirk and you cursed yourself for it. 

“Did you just… quote a poster from Coach Pitman’s history classroom?” 

Your eyes widened. Had you? You searched your brain for the image of the poster he was talking about, then it dawned on you.

“Oh my god,” You guffawed, hand flying up to your mouth. “I think I did!” You had used that saying casually over the years, though apparently you had completely wiped its origins from the contents of your mind. 

Eddie was cackling. One hand was braced on the table, the other smacking across his forehead and into his hairline. “I remember that poster, it was all faded and peeling off the wall at the corners, god that thing must have been at least ten years old even back then-”

“And it had that picture of a basketball player in those tiny 70’s shorts!” You remembered.

Eddie immediately cringed, throwing his head back. “Gah, why did you remind me? It took me years to scrub those shorts from my mind!”

You were cackling too now- matching his every laugh, every cringe, every reminiscence in this little New York dive bar. Only now did you realize that you had both been leaning closer with each word and were both resting your elbows on this small wooden table, with nothing between you but two drinks and an ashtray. 

You were the first to lean back- not so much that it would be obvious, but Eddie still noticed. He matched you this time, shifting his weight to the back of his chair as that big bright smile dimmed almost imperceptibly- but you still caught it. 

Guilt washed over you as you sipped your drink- guilt for distancing yourself, guilt for feeling guilty for that, guilt for being too immature to let bygones be bygones- all of it kept your eyes from meeting his until he spoke. 

“This is probably going to keep happening, you know.” 

Your eyes flicked up at that, and you once again ignored the goosebumps that rushed across your skin when his black coffee gaze met yours. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” He sighed, leaning forward again, both elbows back on the table. “We were friends back then for a reason, and that reason hasn’t seemed to change.” Eddie tried to smile, but all he managed was a rueful grin that stayed contained to the corner of his mouth. “I was an idiot back then, and if you still hated me for it then I wouldn’t blame you… but I’m starting to think that you don’t.”

You weren’t smiling anymore. You weren’t even looking at him anymore, just pressing your lips into a fine line and running your thumb over the condensation on the outside of your glass, staring at the tiny drops of water as they merged into giant drops, the weight of them sending clear tracks down to the wet ring that soaked through the little square napkin below. A few more drops and that napkin will tear, you thought.

“If I’m wrong, tell me and I’ll know where I stand, but-”

“No,” you said, just loud enough to be heard above the din of the crowded bar. “I don’t hate you.” You chanced a look up at Eddie, and the hope in his eyes just about killed you.

“Yeah?” He looked like he wanted to say more; no, you knew he wanted to say more, you recognized that eager, barely-suppressed smile on his face.

You weren’t sure what else to say- weren’t sure you had anything else to say. No, you didn’t hate him. That, however, was the only thing you were sure about. You didn’t know that you wanted anything past not-hate with Eddie. 

He did have a point, though. This ease of conversation, this frequent slipping back into the old dynamic that had kept your friendship alive a decade ago, wasn’t going to stop unless being around Eddie stopped- and he currently lived ten steps away from your bedroom.

Eddie- unsurprisingly- was the one who broke the silence as you struggled to put a name to your feelings about him. 

“Could we… maybe… I don’t know, try being friends again?” Jesus, he looked so optimistic. 

You took a deep breath, introspective as you pondered your answer to his question. Could you? Could you put aside your hesitations and just surrender to the inevitable chemistry between the two of you? No, you thought, don’t call it chemistry. That word was too close to the things you weren’t ready to feel again. 

But you could be ready for friends. ‘Friends’ implied trust, but with boundaries. Held at arm’s length. The freedom to be vulnerable from a safe distance.

“...I can do ‘friends’.” you conceded quietly. “I’m not opposed to trying that.”

“Really?”

God, he looked like an excited puppy. Your traitorous mouth couldn’t help but smile back at him. Why were you like this? “Yes, really,” you rolled your eyes. “I can get over a high school argument.” 

I won’t forget about it though, you thought, I’ve tried.

Eddie’s mouth opened, silently stumbled over what you guessed were a few different attempts at a reply, then finally settled on, “Good. I’m glad.” then after a few seconds, added, “You’re the kind of friend that’s impossible to replace.”

Well, gosh… how could you reply to that with anything other than a melting heart and a forgiving smile?

As the band onstage began to play at last, it became your turn today to contemplate the lesser of two evils. To be forgiving and get burned for it, or to let fear turn you into someone too lonely and too jaded to ever risk your heart again.

Taglist:

@rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @melodymishahiddlestan @stylesxmunson, @fishwithtitz , @elvendria , @carrotbunnies21, @the-unforgivenn , @munson-blurbs, @writinginthetwilight, @ghost-proofbaby, @hellfire--cult @nix-rose @chaoticgood-munson, @3rd-conchord @aphrogeneias, @definitionwanderlust, @aheadfullofsteverogers, @artsymaddie, @mopeymopeymouse, @alwaysbeenfamous, @shy-taylorsversion, @daisyridleyss @jo-harrington @thebadbatchfan @princessunderworld @kurdtbean @amandahobblepot @depravity-n-savagery @perfunctory-username69 @under-the-clouds @aneternallyexhaustedpigeon @eccentriclibrarian @callmytherapistplease-blog

[sapphire4082]

Dear Teddy

Rockstar Eddie Munson x (Ex) Best Friend Reader

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson made it. He got the hell out of Hawkins, built the life he’d always dreamed of, and proved every single person who doubted him wrong. It was worth it, even if it meant leaving certain people behind.

But now Eddie’s returned, after years away from his home town. No one seems to know what exactly has brought him back. All you’re sure of is he definitely didn’t come back for you.

Just a heads up - I’m not doing a taglist for this one (I just find them too stressful to keep updated!)

<<——————💌——————>>

Chapter 1 (aka The Letters)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

<<——————💌——————>>

[sapphire4082]

Arrest me (petty) officer… 🤲 🚔

[sapphire4082]

I'll Help You Get Over It (1)

fuckboy!eddie x fem!reader

You and Eddie are paired up for a semester long project despite hating each other and he somehow becomes your hero when things between you and your boyfriend gets to be too much.

cw: MDNI (18+) eventual smut, emotional abuse, Eddie gets punched, hurt/comfort

Inspired by the song “Just Saying” by 5 Seconds of Summer

Eddie has always hated you. Well, since freshman year, but he still thinks that’s a long time. And the thing is, he doesn’t even think he has a reason to. Your bubbly personality always drives him up the fucking wall. He hates seeing you smile because deep down, he knows that you’re just wearing a mask. You’re just as miserable as he is and he hates that you’re better at hiding it. 

Eddie has been and will always be his own worst enemy. Even with all the therapy, he was never able to shake the torment he faced in Hawkins. It’s the kind of thing that keeps him up at night and he hates that it’s something that he just can’t seem to move on from. Always overthinking his actions because he’s so used to people commenting on his every move. 

That’s why he’s so afraid of being perceived. Here, he can fade into the background. He can be invisible and just do whatever he needs to do even though the harsh words always seem to linger in the back of his head. 

He’s always so in his head that he doesn’t seem to understand that so many of the girls on campus want to get in his pants. He always hears them giggling to each other and just assumes that they’re laughing at him. Because why wouldn’t they be? He’ll always be the freak from Hawkins. 

-

You’re very late for class, running across campus from where you parked your car. Josh turned off your alarm yet again and of course he had to pick a fight when you were already late. And now you’re sobbing as you race to the door to the building, trying your best to hide your tear stained cheeks from everyone. 

But of course, just your luck, the speed in which you’re walking mixed with you not watching where you’re going causes you to run into someone, both of you crashing to the floor. You’re quick to scramble off of him before the two of you hurry to gather your belongings that have clattered to the floor. 

Eddie wants to be annoyed with you, but how can he when he catches sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You’re lowering your head even further as you apologize profusely, grabbing the pens you dropped, your phone vibrating on the floor amongst the clutter, Josh’s name and photo flashing on the screen. You’re not in the mood to deal with another gaslighting phone call so you turn it off completely before pocketing it.  

He goes to help you stand up but when he looks up to make eye contact with you, you’ve already disappeared down the hallway and he supposes that he deserves it. He wouldn’t blame you for being afraid of him. Everyone is. 

So he puts his earbuds back in and heads down the hallway to class. It’s a new semester and this is the class he’s been looking forward to all year. The entire thing is going to be based around a project and he’s just hoping that whoever his partner is willing to pull their own weight. 

He enters the room and has to keep himself from rolling his eyes when he sees you sitting in the front row. Of fucking course. And just his luck, that’s the only spot that’s open. He hurries into the room and takes the seat next to you, trying to prevent letting out a loud sigh. 

You’re fucking everywhere and it drives him crazy. Always in his line of sight with your stupid fucking smile and how you’re always saying “hi” to him when he couldn’t make it more clear that he hates your fucking guts. 

You know that Eddie doesn’t like you and you can’t stand it. That’s why you’re always going out of your way to speak to him, to be nice. Because being a people pleaser to your core, so someone not liking you is a concept that’s so hard to grasp. The hardest pill to swallow. 

And you always want to know why even though you know there’s never really an explanation. But you still want him to tell you even though you’re positive that you’re not going to like the answer. Everyone likes you-well, at least you think they do. You hope. No one’s ever outright told you so and that’s why it bugs you so much that Eddie is so forward about his dislike. 

You pull out your notebook and a pencil and see that Eddie is struggling to find his, which doesn’t surprise you since his backpack is jammed full, stuffed to the brim with crumpled pieces of paper, empty chip bags and his laptop that’s covered in stickers. 

You tap him on the shoulder and he turns to you, seeing that you’re offering him one of your pencils and he begrudgingly takes it, muttering under his breath as he stuffs his trash back into his backpack. 

He knows he should be listening to whatever is being said by the professor, but for whatever reason, he can’t focus. All he’s thinking about is the damn pencil. He’s been nothing but a dick to you for three years and you’re still so nice to him. You handed that pencil to him with your sugary sweet smile and he swore he could feel his frozen heart melt just a tiny bit. 

He turns to look at you and of course you’re taking notes. And of course your handwriting is so neat and tidy while his always looks like a doctor’s. Most of the time, he can’t even decipher what he’s said. 

You can feel Eddie looking at you but brush it off. You feel like he’s staring even though you’re afraid to look. You’re sure you’d just be met by a glare and you don’t have time for his childish games. He can fuck around all he wants but you have a degree you’re working towards. 

Guys like Eddie never take anything seriously and that’s what bugs you. You know he got a scholarship and he never even seems appreciative of it. You would have loved to have something like that, but now you’re up to your ears in student loans and go to bed crying every night about it while people like Eddie don’t have a damn care in the world. 

Anger is bubbling up inside you and you don’t even realize how hard your pencil is pressing into the paper until the led snaps. You push down on the top to make more come out but it looks like that was your last bit. You try not to panic and reach into your backpack only to find you actually have no more led. Just your fucking luck. You’re about to ask if it’s okay to record from your phone when your other pencil rolls across your desk, only stopping when it hits the spiral of your notebook. You look over and Eddie just shrugs before turning back to face forward. 

“Don’t you need it to take notes?” You ask and he’s quick to shake his head. 

“Nope, I store it all up here,” he says, referring to his mind. You roll your eyes and continue to take your notes and Eddie smiles to himself, kind of liking to see this side of you. 

According to the professor, you’re going to be working pairs and the entire semester, you’re going to present two songs apiece that the other has not heard and you’ll each write about your interpretations about the songs. The whole project is supposed to show how people can interpret the same song differently. 

And when he calls out yours and Eddie’s last names one after the other, you can’t help but feel like it’s some cruel joke being played on you. Of course you’re being paired up with the one person who won’t do their work. You’re going to be stuck doing it all by yourself the entire semester. 

You wonder if there’s a way out of it and you know that Eddie is probably thinking the same thing so hopefully there will be no hard feelings. This class is really important to you and clearly he doesn’t care so you’d rather have a partner that would also put in the effort. 

But you decide that you’ll do it next class since you’re going to be late for work. Your manager is already really weird about you being only a few minutes late so you’re really not trying to push it. 

When you get to your car and go to plug your phone in, you realize that it’s still off, but you decide to keep it that way. You want to be free of Josh, just for a little while. You just hope that he gets the hint and leaves you alone even though you know he probably won’t. 

You sigh and make sure you have your vest before making the drive to the arcade. You hate every fucking second of it, letting your mind swirl with thoughts of Eddie and how of course you’re paired up with him for this project. It’s just your fucking luck. The one person who you’re sure won’t pull his own weight so you’ll end up doing all the work and he’ll get credit for it when it’s presented to the professor. At this point, you’d actually rather do it all so you don’t have to see his stupid face outside of class. 

You hurry into the arcade, praying that you’re not late and make a beeline for the break room where Steve is punching out and Robin is on her lunch break. You don’t have to look at them to know that they’re giving you pitying looks, hoping, praying that you’ve finally broken up with Josh. 

You punch in as Steve is punching out and you feel his hand rest gently on your shoulder, giving it a sympathetic pat. You know he means well, but you don’t want his sympathy. You already know that your boyfriend fucking sucks and are tired of everyone telling you as much. 

But you give him a wide smile, putting on a mask to hide how miserable you really are. You feel like you should tell them the full story but you know that it would somehow get back to Josh and you’d hate for him to say something, especially since he’s already been trying to alienate you from your friends. 

You wordlessly put on your vest and grab a walkie talkie before heading out onto the floor to the prize counter where you’re always put. You stand there, being brave and finally turning your phone to see that of course, there are multiple texts, calls, and voicemails from Josh. All of the texts of course use very colorful language, calling you all the names in the book. 

You let out a loud sigh as you close your eyes, wishing that everything could go back to the way it was. You wish he would be sweet all the time instead of when he decides that you deserve it. You really wish you could get the courage to break up with but there’s something that keeps bringing you back but you have no idea what. 

Now you’re regretting letting him track your location, just knowing that he’s going to show up any minute. You go into your phone and turn off your location quickly before turning the device off again and putting it by the register so it’s out of sight out of mind. 

You take another deep breath, turning to face the counter and putting on a wide smile that makes you seem more approachable. You glance around the arcade, waiting for someone to come up to the counter to claim a prize. It’s a Tuesday during school hours so the place is practically empty, the only sounds that can be heard are from the games that will inevitably give you a headache by the time your shift is over. 

You stand there without anyone coming up to the counter for hours, wishing you had brought in the book that’s sitting in the passenger seat. You watch time slowly tick by on your watch and wish there was something you could do to occupy your mind since the only thing swirling around in it is Josh and how terrified you are to see him after you get home from work. 

He would never hit you but the emotional abuse is enough to break you little by little. In his mind, everything is your fault. You’re the one who made him late for work when he’s the one who overslept. You’re the one who has to buy more milk even though he drank the last of it. He’d rather die than take blame for anything he’s done, especially when it comes to his mistreatment of you. 

You only have about ten minutes of your shift and your heart begins beating rapidly in your chest as it gets closer to time for you to leave. This and school are your only safe places where you have protection. At home, there’s no one to help you. You’re defenseless against Josh’s evil words. You remember a time where you were so excited for him to come over, but now it’s become something you dread.

“Eddie! Eddie!” Your head turns in the direction where the voice is coming from as it pulls you out of your thoughts and you see none other than Eddie Munson head over to the counter carrying more tickets than you think you’ve ever seen in your life. A girl is trailing behind him, saying his name over and over but he seems to have tuned her out. So this must be his flavor of the week. 

You wordlessly take the tickets from him and feed them through the counting machine, trying your best not to listen to their clearly private conversation, but it’s hard not to when they’re standing right in front of you. 

“Listen, Rebecca,” he says, finally turning to face her. “What we had was fun, but it’s over now.” The words come out like he’s said them many times before and you know he has. 

You’ve heard about this exact conversation over and over in the locker room at soccer practice. Eddie has a reputation around campus, always moving onto the next person without even a second thought. He uses these women to get what he wants then throws them away like they’re garbage. And now you’re forced to spend the semester with him, vowing that you will never be one of them even if you do eventually get the guts to break up with Josh. 

“So you’re dumping me?” You can see tears welling up in your eyes and you feel so sorry for her. You just know that she was looking for more than just a hookup and that she’s not going to get it. 

“I can’t dump you if we weren’t dating.” He turns to face the counter, looking you in the eyes to let you know that he’s ready to know how many tickets he has. 

Rebecca’s glares at him for a few seconds then stomps off, now leaving you and Eddie alone. You let him know how many tickets he has and he tells you what he wants his prize to be, seemingly completely oblivious to the way you’re looking at him. 

And if he knows how you’re looking at him, he doesn’t say anything, just smirking at you which you most likely think is because he likes watching you do stuff for him, forced to be nice to him because you’re on the clock. And this is just what you needed, having to cater to the needs of the one person you dislike most. Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse. 

“What? No smile today?” He asks, putting on a dramatic pout and you don’t know why that’s your breaking point, but it is. Eddie always somehow manages to get under your skin in the worst ways and drive you crazy. For once, you’d just like for him to leave you alone, but he always insists on pushing your buttons and you have no idea why. Why he’s chosen you as his victim when you’ve already got other things going on.

“Can’t smile when I have nothing to smile about,” you reply as you begrudgingly set the stuffed bat that you’ve been saving up tickets for on the counter with a defeated sigh. You already had a name picked out and everything. Now you just want to go home and take a long shower to wash this shitty day off of you. 

“What’s going on?” It seems like a genuine question and you can tell it is when his brown eyes soften, that little sparkle of mischief that’s usually there, completely gone. 

“It’s-” 

You’re about to tell him that it’s nothing, but your sentence is cut off when the front doors of the arcade fly open, Josh stomping through them. You quickly crouch down behind the counter before he can see you, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you hope and pray that he won’t find you. Here, you’re safe. At least for now. 

Eddie’s confused at first, but when he takes in the tall, angry man making a beeline for the counter. His eyes are filled with rage and Eddie doesn’t know why, but he feels the need to protect you from this guy, whoever he is. He’s assuming that he’s your boyfriend and he doesn’t like his intentions. 

“Have you seen y/n?” Josh asks and Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, trying to size the guy up even though he’s got at least six inches on Eddie. 

“Who’s asking?” He replies with a confidence he’s never had before even though he’s close to shitting his pants because the guy would definitely be able to flick him across the room if it came down to it. 

“None of your fucking business,” the stranger spits back. He doesn’t see why it’s any of his business why he’s looking for his own girlfriend. 

“It actually is my business. Because y/n is my friend and I don’t like you.” That part is true. Eddie has seen the two of you on campus more times than he can count and every time, this guy has been yelling at you and Eddie always has to leave when he sees you cry. 

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t give a fuck about what you think. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go look for my girlfriend.” Josh steps to the side and Eddie follows to block him from looking behind the counter. 

“I think I saw her head to the bathroom,” he says and Josh glares at him in response. 

“Was that so fucking hard?” He huffs before heading in the direction of the bathroom and as soon as he’s gone, Eddie heads behind the counter to help you to your feet. You look up at him and see that he’s just as panicked as you are as he pulls you out from behind the counter, the two of you making a beeline for the break room so you can clock out and the fuck out of there.

Eddie’s arm wraps around you protectively as he acts as your eyes, surveying the building for Josh so he can handle him if it comes down to it. You don’t make it far though, as you're the one who spots Josh across the way at the skee ball machines, so angry that you’re convinced that his head is going to explode. 

When he marches over, everything slows down, gets quiet, the machines now silent as Josh grabs hold of Eddie, muttering something you can’t hear before punching him square in the face and all you can do is gasp in response. Eddie gets his own punch in and Josh goes in for another but Steve pulls him off of Eddie before he can. 

You make a beeline for Eddie not only to check on him, but to thank him, but Robin appears by your side, saying something to you that you can’t hear as she leads you towards the entrance of the building. 

She gets you into her car since you’re in no place to drive and helps you buckle your seatbelt for you, letting you know that she’s clocked out for you and that Steve is going to handle the situation, that there’s no need to worry. But that’s all you’re doing.  

You just nod and let your mind replay the image of Josh punching Eddie over and over as she drives you home. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you come to the realization of just how evil your boyfriend is. Treating you horribly is one thing, but hurting others for associating with you is another. 

You hate yourself for not stopping him but you were scared, in shock, and everything was happening too quickly. And Steve got there just in time so it’s all okay. But you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t. Knowing that this would be a very different situation and that you’d probably be at the police station by now if it had escalated.

Before you know it, Robin is pulling up to your house and after greeting your parents, she gets you up the stairs and tells you that she’s going to stay the night which you’re grateful for. You don’t think you can handle being alone right now and you know that she knows that. 

You let her borrow some pajamas and you both change before crawling into bed, Robin holding you as you sob in her arms before eventually falling asleep, knowing now that you have to leave Josh no matter what it takes.

[sapphire4082]

the tragedy of tumblr is you will inevitably meet people who you should be having a sleepover with. you should be rolling around on their floor and rummaging through their fridge and watching shitty movies with. you should be shopping with should be going out to a cafe with should be wandering through the aquarium with. people who you should be experiencing quotidian joys with... and you cannot! because they live one million miles away

[sapphire4082]

Ride the Lightning Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: In September of 1984, a girl who would one day be known as Evil Woman stepped into the halls of Hawkins High School for the very first time. A few minutes later, she met the love of her life. Contains: First day jitters, first encounter with O'Donnell, love at first sight, and the first day of the rest of Eddie and Evil Woman's lives. Words: 2.3k

This is it, gang. The day Evil Woman met her Eddie. 😍

You woke up this morning ready to kick ass, take names, and make Hawkins High your bitch.

You put on your favorite outfit, scarfed down a good breakfast, and stepped out the door with a new backpack and a head held high.

It took approximately three seconds inside Hawkins High, the new school that would be your prison for the foreseeable future, to make you change your mind.

The thing about small towns is, even on the first day, almost everyone already knows each other. With such a small student body, newcomers are incredibly obvious.

Which is why every eye in that bright white hallway is on you and your baby brother, and you wish you were invisible.

Gareth feels it too. He's been tense since he stumbled into the kitchen this morning. You'll die before you admit he was right to be.

"Where's your locker?" you ask, tugging on his flannel to drag him to the side and out of the flow of traffic.

He pulls out a paper teeming with valuable information, such as class schedule and assigned counselor and locker number, and hands it to you. You glance at it, and then at the numbered metal plates lining the hallway.

"These are going up," you note. "You're probably that way." You gesture vaguely to a turn in the distance. "Want me to go with you?"

"No."

"Okay," you shrug, handing him his schedule back.

His hands shake when he takes it. He looks like he wants to bolt.

"You'll be fine," you say under your breath, hoping no one else hears. People are still watching you. "See you in a few hours."

Gareth heaves a sigh and trudges down the hallway.

You wander around, trying your best to ignore the extremely obvious stares, until you find your own locker. You open it, gaze into the empty space for a few seconds, and close it again. You have no idea what you'll need today, so you might as well keep it all with you.

A chirp of the bell sends your audience to scattering. Probably a warning bell; it wasn't nearly jarring enough to be official. But still, you should probably find homeroom. You look at your own very important paper to get a room number and start hunting. At least everyone's in too much of a hurry now to focus on you.

When you arrive outside the classroom that will be your homeroom for the next year, you hesitate. Would it be unreasonable to turn around and walk away? Just go sit in the woods for a few hours, rather then be trapped inside with all these strangers?

Gareth would kill you if you bailed without him.

"Move it, loser," a tiny girl in a big letterman jacket orders, knocking into you from behind as she passes.

Well, at least everyone's friendly.

You take a deep breath and step inside, seeing Little Miss Letterman Jacket in line behind a few others. The teacher is directing them to assigned seats. Assigned seats, at your age? This place is ridiculous. But still, you stand in line and wait like everyone else.

"Name?" an old lady with a gray perm and big glasses asks, checking off something on her clipboard when you approach. You tell her, and she looks up at you briefly.

"I haven't seen you before."

"I must be new," you deadpan.

She fixes you with a withering glare before looking back down to her clipboard. She scribbles something, then points toward the back of the room without looking up.

"Back table, left side."

"Check."

She looks back up with raised eyebrows, and you scurry toward your assigned seat. Way to make a great first impression. You are killing it.

At your old school, this was where the burnouts went. The kids who would probably spend the whole time sleeping. Even if they didn't gravitate there on their own, the teachers would send them there eventually. Put them as far away from the teaching as possible, so they wouldn't bother the good little children who came to learn.

Good, you think as you drop into the plastic chair. Something tells you that you'll be spending most of your time at Hawkins High trying to fly under the radar anyway. You're off to a great start.

More students filter in, and you observe them from your place in the back. Isn't it amazing how you can tell what clique a person belongs to just by their clothes? The jocks are easy to spot. The princesses. The nerds. The rich kids. The losers. The--

Holy shit.

A blur of untamed hair and faded denim bounds into the room just as the bell rings.

"O'Donnell!" he greets, clapping the surly teacher on the shoulder. She flinches, like he'd just smacked her with a dead rat instead of a ringed hand. "Bet you thought you finally got rid of me, huh?"

"Take your usual seat, Mr. Munson," she glowers.

He grins, showing off his white teeth and deep dimples, and it lights up the entire room. Until his eyes land on you, and you feel your stomach drop, along with his smile. You've been staring, fuck, you've been staring so intensely he's probably creeped out already.

He saunters toward you, unblinking.

He's not sitting here, is he?

Please sit here.

Before you can argue with yourself any more, he dramatically plops into the chair next to you. You pretend to focus on the teacher at the front of the room, but watch out of the corner of your eye as he leans his chair back on two legs and rests his back against the wall. He smells like cigarette smoke and warmth and comfort and some kind of cologne or maybe just a strong deodorant. And he's staring at you.

"What'd you do?"

Is he talking to you? You tilt your head and meet his eye. He is.

"What?" you ask, surprised that you were able to get the word out.

"She usually throws me in the back corner by myself," he explains. "Either we're full-up, or she hates you too."

Your face is on fire.

"Uh…" you rack your brain for an explanation. "There may have been a tiny bit of sarcasm when I first walked in."

He snorts, then drops his chair back onto all fours with a clank.

"Eddie Munson," he says, holding out his hand. His many silver rings catch your eye, and you tilt your head to stare at them in fascination. You've seen a guy wear one or two rings, maybe, but how does he even lift his hands with that much metal on them? "It's okay, I washed them this week... or maybe it was last week?"

You chuckle and take his hand, giving him a brief shake and introducing yourself. A moment of silence follows. You can't stop looking at him. You want to memorize every detail of Eddie Munson, because he's the most beautiful person you've ever seen. You want to stare into his eyes until you learn all his secrets. You want to hold his hand and inspect his rings. You want to touch every patch and pin on his jacket, and let him tell you how he acquired each one. You want to know which bands are his favorites, and which of their albums, and which song from each album. You want to know everything.

"Nice shirt," you finally get out.

Eddie Munson looks down and pulls his battle vest aside - an actual battle vest with metal patches and pins in Nowhere, Indiana - to reveal more of the Ride the Lightning album cover you'd spotted.

"Thanks," he beams. "You like Metallica?"

Of course you like Metallica. You were waiting at your hometown record store's front door when they opened on RTL Release Day. The assistant manager told you they didn't have it yet, and only after you'd threatened to sue did he pull the cassette out of his pocket with a grin. You miss that place.

"No, I just thought the logo was cool," you smirk.

His face falls.

Fuck.

Fuck!

FUCK!

"Oh," he says, deflated. "Well, they're a badass band. If you like metal, I mean... do you?"

"Everyone quiet down for the announcements!" O'Donnell barks. Seconds later, the loudspeaker crackles to life, and a voice starts rambling on it. You should probably pay attention to this. Don't want to fuck up your high school career more than you have already. You smile apologetically at Eddie, knowing you've blown whatever this could have been, and attempt to focus on the announcements.

You give up after a few minutes of sports and club-related news, and instead berate yourself for being too you, too soon. You have to ease people in, a little at a time. You are an acquired taste. You know this.

When the announcements end, O'Donnell goes to the chalkboard and writes a numbered list of forms everyone was supposed to get signed and bring in. Paper shuffles as everyone starts digging into backpacks and trying to put them in the requested order.

A few minutes later, your neat pile rests next to Eddie's crumpled mess, and the sight makes you smile. You glance at him with an eyebrow raised in amusement, and his face becomes the shade of a tomato. He's so adorable.

"Papers to the front!"

You reach for your pile of paper at the same time Eddie does. Your hands brush, and a small shock of static electricity makes you both jump and pull your hands away. He smiles apologetically and picks up the papers, combining them and putting the stack into the meaty hands of the striped polo shirt in front of you.

You suddenly feel the need to shed your denim jacket, and twist away from Eddie to hang it on the back of your chair. And then you remember what shirt you're wearing, and feel a surge of hope shoot through your veins. Perhaps all is not lost. You try your best to keep a straight face when you face the front again.

"I'm passing out additional forms that need to be signed by a parent or guardian and returned to me by the end of the week. Do not lose them. You may talk quietly amongst yourselves until the next bell."

Now's your chance. Maybe your last one.

"So," you begin, slightly angling yourself toward him. "Are all the teachers here as fun as this one?"

Eddie grins and turns to you to answer, but his face falls when he sees your shirt. He stares at the fabric for a moment, then meets your eye. His brow is furrowed. He reminds you of a confused puppy. Slowly, you see the realization spread across his face.

"You were fucking with me."

You look down pointedly at your own Ride the Lightning shirt, which matches his, and then lift your head to meet those big brown eyes again. You scrunch your nose and nod. Eddie laughs, and the sound makes your stomach flip. You join in when you remember how.

"The new girl likes metal," he grins, shaking his head in disbelief. Hell, you'd like anything he wanted you to. "Alright, very serious question." He leans closer, his face suddenly somber and his eyes intense. You can smell his cologne clearer now. You fear you're going to pass out. "Do you know what D&D is?"

You're torn. Do you keep fucking with him, or tell the truth and make his dreams come true?

"Dickheads & Doorknobs?" you whisper.

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, a loud and wicked cackle that makes your whole body vibrate. You fight the urge to steady yourself by combing your fingers through his long shaggy mane.

"You ever played?" he asks, snapping you out of it.

"A couple of times," you grin. "My brother's a big fan, though."

"Your brother plays?" He sits back, his eyes wide. "Is he here? Like, in the building?"

"Yeah," you answer. "He's around here somewhere."

"Older or younger?"

"Younger."

"He like good music?"

"Taught him everything I know," you tease.

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, eyes blazing. "You uh…" He licks his lips. "You wanna meet the rest of the Hawkins High Metal Lovers?"

"If that's your gang name, I hate to break it to you, but it's kinda lame," you snicker.

"It's a club, thank you very much," he says, putting a hand over his heart like you've offended him to the core. "We play D&D as The Hellfire Club."

"Okay," you nod, "that sounds pretty badass."

Eddie grins.

"Can I see your schedule?" he asks. And then he tenses. So do you. What just happened? "If you want, y'know, I could take you to your next class. Or show you around or whatever. If you wanted me to."

Is he backpedaling because he thinks he overstepped, or because he doesn't like the way you're looking at him, or because he just remembered he has a girlfriend who's going to murder you both?

Screw it.

You pull out your schedule and slide it across the table to him. He looks it over, his eyes darting from line to line.

"We don't have much together," he says regretfully. "But I uh… I could still…" He bites his lip, like he's afraid to finish his sentence.

"Would you?" you ask, voice quiet and heart pounding. "I mean, if it's not too much trouble?"

The corner of his mouth twitches, like he's trying not to smile. It's a battle he quickly loses. You can't help but smile back. You're still grinning at each other like idiots when the bell rings.

"Trouble's my middle name," he grins, his perfect dimples making another appearance as he rises from his chair. "Shall we?"

[sapphire4082]

Entropy Teaser #3

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Reader

The one where he's dating Chrissy, but having sex dreams about his best friend (you).

Last chance to get on the tag list for this fic! Comment below if you'd like to be tagged.

For more details on the fic itself, click the highlighted link below. It's 18k words b-t-dubs.

If you already commented on this post, you’ll be tagged, so you don’t need to comment again. But you are allowed to react to this lil teaser in the comments teehee.

To be tagged, you must be 18+ and have your age clearly displayed on your blog.

Teaser #1

Teaser #2

[sapphire4082]

And They Were Roommates (Pt.1)

Chapter One: “Moving In”

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

This is gonna be a long one this time, inspired by my good friend @justalotoffanfiction. We were discussing Eddie Munson roommate AU's and I started two of them, one is tucked away potentially for later (maybe) but this one has exploded onto the pages, I'm already many chapters into this one, so I'll be editing and posting a chapter or two a day as time permits.

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

Summary:

Eddie is tired of the trailer park life and wants to move out and find a place of his own. A roommate situation would be ideal and more affordable. He finds an ad in the Hawkins Post for a co-ed living situation. Can he convince you to let him move in, or will his reputation proceed him?

Chapter Two: “Our First Day”

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

Chapter One: “Moving In”

Hawkins, Indiana - Fall, 1986

The pages of the Hawkins Post crinkled between Eddie Munson's fingers as he leaned against his van, the ink rubbing off slightly onto his calloused thumb. A circled ad caught his eye, "Roommate Wanted: Female senior student looking to share a two-bedroom, one-bath apartment near town square. Rent negotiable. Serious inquiries only."

He read it twice, tapping the metal ring of his thumb against the side of the paper. "Serious inquiries only, huh? Well, I'm seriously outta here, Uncle Wayne," he muttered, folding the ad and tucking it into the pocket of his worn leather jacket. By the time he pulled up to the address listed in the ad, the sun was sinking low behind the trees, casting long orange shadows over Hawkins. His van coughed and wheezed to a stop, one speaker still blasting Dio's Holy Diver before he clicked it off. He stepped out, combat boots hitting pavement, black jeans torn just enough to make the PTA nervous, Hellfire Club tee peeking out beneath a flannel that had seen better days.

The apartment building wasn't anything fancy, but it wasn't a trailer surrounded by nothing but empty beer cans and woods, either. So progress.

Eddie ruffled his mess of brown curls, his nerves hitting him for the first time as he approached the door. He'd never had a roommate that wasn't in Corroded Coffin, and even fewer of those had been from the ‘I don't run screaming when Eddie Munson walks down the hall’ crowd- especially not girls.

He knocked twice

The door opened.

You stood there, looking far more composed than he ever managed to be at school, he knew you, the pretty girl from Hawkins High, the senior who always seemed to float just out of his chaotic orbit. He gave a crooked grin, lifting his hand in an awkward sort of wave.

"Hey, uh… I think I called earlier? Eddie Munson. Y'know… metalhead, dungeon master, part-time town freak," he said, fingers drumming a silent nervous rhythm against the strap of his guitar case. "You're the one with the apartment, yeah? Still looking for a roommate? Or did I miss my window of opportunity and doom myself to a lifetime of my Uncle Wayne's TV dinners?”

He tilted his head, his grin softening just a little.

"Mind if I come in and check the place out?”

As you stood at the door, taking in Eddie's presence, recognition sparked in your eyes. Despite his outward appearance and reputation amongst your peers as the ‘town freak,’ you saw past the stereotypes. You’d always admired his confidence and genuine demeanor beneath the metalhead exterior. A refreshing change from the superficiality that often clouded high school cliques.

With a faint smile playing on your lips, you stepped back to allow him entrance into your modest apartment. "Come in, Eddie," you said warmly, gesturing for him to follow as you led the way in towards the living area.

You glanced at him, the senior student who always seemed to reside on the fringes of most social circles but held an undeniable charisma that had always intrigued you. You’d always thought he was cute in a ‘bad boy’ sort of way, but you didn’t really know anything about him, not really, other than rumors. However, you found you were drawn to Eddie's presence, his easy smile, and the way his brown eyes sparkled with genuine interest as he looked around. His aura was different from the usual high school crowd, intriguing you in a way that made your heart flutter a little.

"So, umm… Thanks for considering this roommate situation… I've been searching for someone reliable and easy-going," you remarked as you led him into a cozy living room adorned with old vintage furniture and shelves filled with well-loved books.

Eddie looked at you thoughtfully, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Who could resist an offer like this?" Eddie replied with a casual shrug, his tone light as he looked around.

Your curiosity was piqued by this enigmatic man who seemed to carry secrets within his dark gaze. You wanted to know more about him, but you didn’t want to just bomb him with personal questions and make things weird on the first day.

You continued guiding him through each space. You pointed out details like the quaint kitchen overlooking a small backyard garden. There was sunlight filtering through overhanging branches, creating dappled patterns on its stone path. You were relieved you’d cleaned and prettied the place up before anyone had arrived to see it.

As you moved from room to room, your conversation flowed effortlessly despite the initial awkwardness outside. You found yourself opening up more than usual, drawn by Eddie's genuine interest in getting to know you beyond surface impressions.

Eddie nodded appreciatively while taking in all aspects of your potential shared living space. He could picture it now, a mix of music posters adorning one wall juxtaposed against delicate houseplants perched near sunny window sills, it could be a blend reflecting both of your personalities merging together within these walls.

"I have some house rules we can discuss if you're interested… And feel free to ask any questions or share your preferences too," you mentioned casually before pausing to open a window letting fresh autumn air filter inside, carrying the distant sounds of Hawkins' evening bustle.

The sunlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated Eddie's features, casting shadows across his rugged face and adding an air of intrigue to his presence. His interest in your space was pretty obvious from how he glanced around appreciatively while absorbing each detail you pointed out.

Turning towards him with a smile playing on your lips, you invited casually,

"So, what do you think so far? Is this something that works for you, or are we going to clash over décor choices already?"

Eddie leaned against the kitchen counter, his rings clicking softly against the laminate as he drummed his fingers. His gaze flickered from the sunlit garden outside to the way your hair caught the golden light, and for a second, he forgot to answer.

"Clash? Nah, sweetheart," he finally said, grinning as he pushed off the counter to step closer to you. "I mean, unless you’ve got some deep-seated hatred for Black Sabbath posters or the occasional bong left on the coffee table, then we might have a problem." His smirk was playful, but his eyes were earnest as they met yours. "But seriously? This place is great. Cozy. Lived-in. Not like some sterile showroom where you’re afraid to sit on the furniture."

He wandered over to the bookshelf, tilting his head to read the spines. "Damn, you’ve got good taste. Stephen King, Tolkien…" His fingers brushed over a well-worn copy of The Stand, and he shot you a look of approval. "You’re already winning points here."

As Eddie admired your book collection, sharing his appreciation for your taste in literature, you felt a sense of connection forming between the two of you that went beyond just roommates. His easy banter and shared interests bridged any lingering doubts you may have had about inviting him into your space. You could easily see yourself becoming friends with this guy.

Turning back to you, he crossed his arms, his leather jacket creaking softly. "So rules… I’m guessing ‘no impromptu band practice at 2 AM’ is probably on the list, right?" He chuckled, but then his expression shifted. "Look, I get it. You don’t know me, and Hawkins High’s rumor mill hasn’t exactly painted me as the ideal roommate. But I’m not some chaotic gremlin… Well, not all the time."

He stepped closer, close enough that you could smell the faint mix of leather and weed clinging to his clothes. "I’ll clean up after myself, pay rent on time, and I promise not to scare off any dates you bring home… unless they’re assholes. Then I might flex my ‘town freak’ reputation a little." His grin was crooked, almost shy. "So… what’s the verdict? Am I in, or do I gotta go back to my Uncle Wayne’s and endure another lecture about ‘responsibility’?" There was a hopeful glint in his eyes, like he already knew the answer but was waiting to hear you confirm it.

With a soft laugh, you playfully nudged him, feeling the warmth of his nearness. "Black Sabbath posters are more than welcome here," you replied with a grin. "And I don't mind a bit of a rock 'n roll ambiance."

You looked him over appraisingly for a moment, then decided. "Band practice curfew is definitely on the list," you teased back, his words reassuring you, showing glimpses of vulnerability beneath his confident façade. You appreciated his honesty and promises to respect your space and boundaries.

"I think we can work something out," you said softly, meeting his gaze head-on. "As long as your Uncle Wayne's TV dinners aren’t part of our regular menu rotation."

Relief flashed across Eddie's face.

Later That Evening…

It was just starting to get dark out when you heard the telltale rumble of Eddie’s van outside again, followed by the slightly too loud slam of the driver’s side door and the unmistakable sound of something, probably heavy, thudding onto the pavement.

A moment later, there was a knock. Not the kind of knock someone gives when they’re unsure or being polite. No, this one was casual, almost rhythmic. Confident in that Eddie Munson way, even if there might've been a touch of nerves under it.

When you opened the door, he was grinning, slightly out of breath, with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his guitar case hanging off the other, and a milk crate held out in front of him like an offering to the gods of shared domesticity.

The side of the crate was labeled in thick black Sharpie: “EDDIE’S SHIT – DO NOT TOUCH (unless you want to be cursed)”

“I bring gifts,” he announced dramatically, stepping inside without waiting for an official invitation like he was already testing the boundaries of his new residence. “Behold… relics from the cursed tomb of Uncle Wayne’s living room. Some of this stuff hasn’t seen daylight since ‘84.”

You stepped aside to let him pass, eyeing the crate with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “That sounds… ominous.”

“Oh, it is,” Eddie said proudly, setting the crate down on the coffee table with a soft thud. “There are mysteries in here that man was not meant to comprehend. Also, like, an ashtray shaped like a skull and a mixtape I made when I was grounded for ‘accidentally’ flooding the science lab.”

You raised a brow as he opened the crate and immediately pulled out the aforementioned skull ashtray, placing it on the center of the coffee table next to your bowl of trail mix like it was some kind of crown jewel. You just stared at it for a moment… hollow eyes, a missing tooth, the faint scent of old smoke still lingering in the ceramic, it matched nothing in your carefully curated apartment.

You glanced from the ashtray to Eddie. Then back to the ashtray.

Then back to Eddie.

He blinked at you. “Too much?”

You slowly turned to the bookshelf, grabbed a scented candle, and swapped it with the skull like it was a hostage exchange. “We’ll… workshop the décor,” you said diplomatically.

Eddie let out a full laugh, something real and bright that filled the space. “Alright, alright. No skulls on sacred surfaces. Got it.”

He dropped his duffel bag by the hallway, stretching out his arms like he’d just finished a cross-country trek. “So… I guess this makes it official. We’re roommates. You, me, and a very judged ashtray that will now live on the bookshelf next to your copy of Pride and Prejudice. Which, by the way, makes for a killer combo.”

He flopped onto the couch with the kind of dramatic flair that suggested he'd been practicing the move for years, his boots immediately propped up on the coffee table before he caught your look and sheepishly lowered them. "Right. No feet on the furniture. Noted."

The grin he shot you was all mischief, though, like he was already cataloging all the little ways he could push your buttons. Just enough to be entertaining, but not enough to actually piss you off.

"So," he said, stretching his arms behind his head, "what's the first rule of Roommate Club? No midnight jam sessions? No stealing each other's leftovers? No summoning demons in the living room unless it's a Tuesday?" His eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was a genuine curiosity there too, like he actually wanted to know where the lines were.

Then, as if remembering something, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled joint, holding it up between two fingers like a peace offering. "Also, uh... smoking policy? Inside, outside, or ‘only if you share’?"

The way he waggled his eyebrows at the last part was ridiculous enough to make you laugh, but the real kicker was the hopeful little tilt of his head, like he was already mentally preparing to brave the cold if you said no.

You could practically see the gears turning in his brain. ‘How far can I push before she kicks me out?’ and yet, somehow, it didn't feel invasive. It felt... kinda fun. Like this was just the start of a weird, chaotic, good thing.

So you crossed your arms, pretending to consider it seriously before shrugging. "Demons are fine, but only if they do dishes. And the joint? Definitely share."

Eddie's wide grin could've powered Hawkins for a week. "Fuck yeah. Roommate rules officially approved."

Then, with the kind of effortless charm that made you wonder how this guy was still single, he patted the spot next to him on the couch. "C'mon, let's break in this place right. First order of business: picking a proper housewarming soundtrack. And don't say Fleetwood Mac… I know you've got taste in there somewhere.”

The way he said it, teasing but sincere, made it impossible to refuse.

So you sat.

And just like that, the apartment felt a little homier.

He leaned forward and started rifling through the crate again like it was Mary Poppins’ bag of cursed treasures. You saw one tape labeled “ONLY FOR COOL BITCHES” written in black Sharpie and had to stifle a laugh.

“Alright,” he said, holding up a beat-up cassette tape with pride. “‘The Essential Eddie Mix: Vol. 3.’ This bad boy’s got everything! Sabbath, Zeppelin, some early punk, a very emotional cover of ‘Landslide’ I recorded while drunk… don’t ask.”

“So you do like Fleetwood Mac,” you said, arching a brow.

“Don’t twist my words, witch,” he grinned, shoving it into the tape deck. “This was a one-time spiritual experience.”

The cassette clicked into place, and the first scratchy chords of ‘War Pigs’ poured out like some low-budget blessing. Eddie leaned back with a satisfied sigh, legs manspreading like he owned the place, hair a tangled mess against the couch cushion. He didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps didn’t care, that one of your throw pillows you had behind your back, was slowly being claimed as his own.

You glanced at him sideways, then grabbed a pretzel from the bowl of trail mix on the coffee table and tossed one at his chest.

“What’s that for?” he asked, catching it mid-air like a practiced gremlin.

“You’re stealing my pillow.”

He glanced down, totally unbothered. “It’s not theft if I improve it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t ask for it back. Truth was, you didn’t mind him being there. The couch hadn’t felt too small until now, but somehow, the space between you had become its own little world. Close, but not close enough to be weird. Just… noticeable.

After a minute, the music shifted into something slower, one of those deep-cut Zeppelin tracks Eddie had probably played a hundred times. He hummed along under his breath, drumming his fingers on his stomach, and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

Then, casually, he said, “So… what do you do when you’re not rescuing strays with weird ashtrays and questionable hygiene?”

You smirked. “I read. Mostly romance or horror. I write sometimes.”

“Write?” He turned toward you, suddenly alert in that Eddie way, like you’d just dropped a dragon egg on the table. “Like, short stories? A secret novel you’re hiding under your bed?”

You shrugged, but a flush crawled up your neck. “Just stuff. I never finish anything. It’s dumb.”

“Hey.” He sat up straighter, a pretzel forgotten in his hand. “Don’t say that. Writing’s metal as hell. Storytelling? That’s, like, the most powerful magic there is. That’s how I get people into D&D. You think Henderson would stick around if I didn’t spin a damn good yarn?”

That made you laugh. “So what, I should just start writing about half-orcs and necromancers?”

He grinned, wickedly. “Only if they have a tragic backstory and an inexplicable obsession with peanut butter.” He said while he kicked off his shoes.

You snorted, nearly choking on your own pretzel. “You’re so weird.”

“I know,” he said proudly, reclining again. “It’s part of the brand.”

Another silence settled between you, not awkward, just soft. The kind that happens when you’re not trying too hard anymore. Outside, a breeze rattled the window, and inside, the tape clicked as it needed to be switched sides.

Eddie gestured lazily toward the crate while he flipped the cassette. “There’s a deck of cards in there somewhere. You up for a little high-stakes Go Fish? Or are you too scared to face defeat at the hands of a dungeon master?”

You looked at him, with his floppy brown hair, a stupid grin, one of his socks barely hanging onto his foot, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch into a smile.

“I’ll play,” you said. “But if I win, you’re doing the dishes for a week.”

“Oh ho ho,” he said, sitting up like you’d just thrown down the gauntlet. “You’re on, roomie.”

He dug through the crate with the fervor of a man on a sacred quest, finally pulling out a dog-eared deck of cards with a triumphant "Aha!" The box was barely holding together, the edges frayed from what you could only assume were years of greasy-fingered pizza and D&D sessions and late-night poker games.

"Prepare to be destroyed," he declared, shuffling with the kind of exaggerated flair that suggested he'd probably practiced in front of a mirror a time or two. A card flew out, landing face-up on the coffee table… The King of Hearts.

You raised a brow. "Is that an omen?"

Eddie smirked, scooping it back up and adding it back into the deck with a shuffle. "Nah, sweetheart, just my natural charm leaking out." He answered with a wink before he dealt the cards with surprising precision, his rings glinting in the lamplight. "Alright, rules: standard Go Fish, but with stakes. Winner gets bragging rights and..." He paused dramatically, eyes glinting. "Winner gets to pick the next mixtape. Loser has no veto power. And umm… something something has to do dishes for a week."

You picked up your cards, hiding a smile. "Deal."

The game started slow, Eddie's competitive streak simmering just beneath his laid-back façade. He asked for sevens with the confidence of a man holding a royal flush, only to groan when you handed him two. "You're hiding them," he accused, pointing a finger at you. "I know you've got more."

You batted your lashes. "Go fish, Munson."

He grumbled but drew, his expression shifting to pure delight when he pulled the card he needed. "Ha! The gods of chaos smile upon me!" He slapped down his completed set with unnecessary force.

You retaliated by sweeping the next round, your poker face impeccable as you calmly asked, "Got any threes?"

Eddie squinted at you like you'd just performed dark magic. "...You're terrifying." He handed over his last three with the solemnity of a man surrendering his sword.

The game stretched on, the pile of matched sets growing between you. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows in their frames, but inside, the apartment was warm, alive with the hum of music and Eddie's running commentary.

"Okay, hypothetically," he said, eyeing his dwindling hand, "if you could have any superpower, but it had to be, like, stupidly specific… what would it be?"

You tapped your chin, considering. "Hmm. The ability to always find the missing matching sock on the first try."

Eddie gasped like you'd just revealed the meaning of life. "Genius. Mine would be... the power to make any food instantly nachos. Just… bam." He gestured wildly. "Salad? Now it's nachos. Your mom's meatloaf? Nachos…"

You snorted. "That's the most Eddie Munson answer possible."

He placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. "I live to serve."

The game reached its climax with you holding one card and Eddie sweating over his last two. He squinted at you, then at his cards, then back at you. "...Do you have any jacks?"

You grinned and handed him your final card.

His jaw dropped. "No."

"Yes." You fanned out your empty hands. "Dishes and mixtape privileges. Bow before your champion."

Eddie flopped back against the couch, arms splayed like a fallen warrior. "I've been betrayed by the very cards I love." He peeked one eye open. "...Rematch?"

You grabbed the deck before he could. "Nope. Pay up, loser."

He groaned but hauled himself upright, shuffling toward the kitchen with exaggerated despair. Halfway there, he paused, turning back with a smirk. "Hey, roomie?"

"Yeah?"

"Best damn first night I could’ve hoped for."

And with that, he vanished into the kitchen, the sound of running water and his off-key singing to Black Sabbath soon following.

You sank back into the couch, smiling to yourself. You realized… This was happening. Eddie Munson was now your roommate. And weirdly? That didn’t feel so weird, in fact… This was gonna be fun.

Don't know who to tag, who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be tagged! And to which fandom. (Bayverse TMNT, Vegeta, Eddie Munson).

@justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm

Masterlist

[sapphire4082]

Sex Eddie-cation

Eddie Munson x Inexperienced Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: You ask your best friend Eddie to teach you all your firsts

Warnings ⚠️ first-time kisses, oral f receiving, oral m receiving, first-time sex, unprotected p in v sex

Dividers by @strangergraphics can be found here

Lesson 1 - Kissing

You are a virgin in all the ways anyone can possibly think of. You are sick and tired of hearing about the experiences everyone's having and never experiencing it for yourself.

You approach your best friend Eddie, who you know has lots of experience. He's so attractive and you've liked him for ages. He's the only person you want to give your firsts to.

To your suprise, Eddie is happy to help and immediately wants to jump in with kissing, which leads you to now.

You're staring at Eddie's lips, wondering how they're going to feel against your own. Eddie clears his throat to get your attention. You meet his eyes, and he smiles at you sweetly.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He questions.

"I'm okay, Eds. Ready. Let's do this." You say determined.

He leans in close to you and places one hand on your waist the other on your hip.

"This okay?" Eddie breathes out, looking between your lips and your eyes.

You nod, and he gets closer, and you close your eyes. You feel the light pressure of his lips against your own, and they feel soft.

He pulls away after a moment, and you pull him back in, tangling a hand into his hair. He increases the pressure of the kiss, and you gasp.

You feel like you could kiss Eddie forever. His curls feel wonderful to run your hand through like you always knew they would.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, slow and exploring. You easily follow his lead, and Eddie moans into the kiss, causing a shiver of excitement to go down your spine.

He pulls away, biting your lip and trailing sweet kisses down your neck.

"You're a natural, sure you've not done that before?" Eddie says teasingly.

You blush and smile at him,

"You know I haven't."

Lesson 2 - oral f receiving

"You ever touch yourself?" Eddie asks, staring up at you from between your thighs.

You nod shyly, and Eddie tuts.

"Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes, Eddie. It never feels how it's supposed to though, can't reach properly with my fingers." You pout and Eddie smiles wickedly.

"Oh, I'll make it feel real good." He pushes your panties aside and dives straight in with his tongue.

He laps at your folds, moaning at the taste of you and moving down to enter you with his tongue.

It feels strange at first but then you start to feel pleasure. He fucks you slowly on his tongue while his nose applies pressure to your clit.

You feel yourself getting wetter, flooding Eddie's tongue and mouth with more of your juices.

He moves back, looking up at you,

"Fuck, you like that?"

"Y-Yes, n-need more." You whine.

He immediately gets back to it, now using his fingers, he gets two in with no problem after his tongue had been inside you.

He speeds up and crooks them, finding your sweet spot and causing you to moan out louder as you clamp down on his fingers.

He adds another, and you love the feeling of being filled like this. It feels like nothing you've ever felt before as heat builds in your belly.

"E-Ed's." You moan unable to say anything else.

"Let go, come for me." Eddie says and applies a firm pressure to your clit.

You feel as if you're seeing stars as you cum all over Eddie's fingers, eyes rolling back as you tighten around his fingers.

He helps you through your orgasm, making you mewl when you start to feel overstimulated.

He pulls his fingers out, licking your juices off each finger one by one.

"Tasty." He says, winking at you.

Lesson 3 - oral m receiving

You feel yourself choke a little but refuse to give up. Eddie was teaching you how to give him a handjob when you decided to take matters into your own hands.

The gleam of precum on Eddie's tip was too hard to resist, so you leaned forward, licking it off and causing Eddie to let out the sexiest noise you'd ever heard.

You sank down on his cock, it hitting the back of your throat as you gagged but still continued.

"Baby, it's okay. You don't need to." Eddie says breathlessly, trying to move you off but also wanting you to stay.

You make eye contact with him as you continue to swallow around his cock, getting used to it while your eyes hold unshed tears.

"Fuck okay. If that's what you want. You're such a cheeky minx. What have I created." Eddie says bemused at your actions.

He starts slowly fucking into your mouth and you moan around him. You know your jaw will ache later but the feel of him using your mouth is too good.

He reaches for your hand and wraps it around the part of his cock that you can't fit into your mouth. Eddie helps you set a pace and how tight he likes to be held.

You can feel saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and making mess. Eddie looks down at you and groans.

"Fuck look at you, taking me so well." Eddie sweetly runs his hand through your hair as he picks up his pace.

You can see his legs starting to shake as he tries to bite back his loud moans.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart." He tries to get you to let him go but you refuse, taking him down deeper.

He spills down your throat, and you swallow it all as best as you can. You lick his cock clean and make sure to get any from around your mouth.

The taste isn't as unpleasant as you heard it was and you find you actually kind of like it. You hmm as you swallow the last of it and Eddie looks at you in awe.

"You did so well, a fucking natural. Just about sucked my brains out through my dick." Eddie jokes.

You laugh, happy with Eddie's praise and thinking about when you can do that again.

Lesson 4 - hand holding and love making

Eddie's driving you to his trailer after a corroded coffin set and you're gushing telling him how well they played and how they really nailed the new song they've been working on.

He reaches over and takes your hand, and you almost pull away, but Eddie holds on tight.

"Come on, sweet thing, another first, right? Shouldn't be too scary after you had my dick in your mouth." He smirks at you, and you flush.

You thread your fingers through his and spend the rest of the ride back in comfortable silence. Eddie's thumb rubbing soothing against your hand.

You arrive, and he leads you to his room. You stand nervously as he makes himself comfortable on his bed.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Eddie questions, picking up on your nervous energy.

"Iwantyoutofuckme." You rush out fast and incoherent.

Eddie gets up, lifting your face gently in his hands so you make eye contact,

"What was that?"

"I want you to fuck me. Please Eddie?" You beg.

Eddie's eyes widen before they darken with lust at your words.

"Fuck baby." He twirls his hair in front of his face, "You keep surprising me, come here?"

He leads you over to the bed and kisses you sweetly as you melt into him. The kiss turns more heated, and Eddie pins you to his bed.

You can feel his erection against your thigh as his hand trails down to where you want him most.

You feel like it's hours as he gets you prepared to take his cock. He meticulously takes you apart, having you shuddering over his fingers and begging for his cock.

He slips into you slowly, lifting your leg over his shoulder and telling you to breathe. He leans down, kissing your neck and peppering kisses over your face as you feel every inch of him.

He's soon settled, and he waits with his forehead against yours for you to tell him he can move.

"P-Please Eds. More." You moan out, moving your hips against him, turning the slight pain into the most pleasure you've ever felt.

Eddie's big, and you feel so filled in the best way possible, already seeing stars, and you've barely started.

Eddie pulls himself out before sinking back in. He's slow and gentle with you, wanting your first time to be perfect.

You hook your other leg around his back, pressing him impossibly closer to you, and he moans against your neck.

"F-Fuck so good, taking me so well like you were made for my cock sweetheart." Eddie thrusts into you, hitting your g-spot and making you arch up against him.

He notices and starts angling himself to hit there dead on with no mercy, his other hand sneaking down to apply pressure to your clit.

You find yourself falling over the edge easily, crying Eddie's name as you tighten around him, coming on his cock.

Eddie watches you orgasm in awe of how beautiful you look and it's enough to have him spilling himself inside you. You moan out as his cum fills you up and he keeps making little thrusts fucking it into you deeper.

He pulls out and immediately cuddles you close. You snuggle into his neck and tiredly whisper,

"I love you."

"What?" You hear Eddie ask and you sit up.

Fuck you weren't meant to say that.

He watches as you panic and pulls you into a kiss.

"I love you too. Fuck sweet thing, I've wanted you forever. Why did you think I agreed to this?" Eddie tells you earnestly with a bright smile.

Sex Eddie-cation Epilogue coming soon

Tagging some friends who may be interested: @jamdoughnutmagician @penguinsandpotterheads @myherometalhead @eddiesxangel @28bohemianmoons @sunkillerencoder @jo-harrington ❤️

[sapphire4082]

Neighbour!Eddie x Neighbour!Reader

Knock, knock.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ for sexual themes if you are under 18 you do not belong here, be gone. AFAB reader. Angst, fluff, pining, yearning, toxic self talk, stress, anxiety, Strong language. Allusions to radio? Phone sex, I don't know. Piv, Dubious explanations of electricals, dubious explanations of DIY, it's an Eddie POV chapter my lovelies. See Masterlist for full list of warnings.

12.9k

Authors note: Life has been busy and kinda weird these past few months but these guys have been keeping me company in the quieter moments. I also apparently can't write chapters under 10k anymore, but it's finally out of me. The aftermath of these too finally admitting to their feelings, and all the otherworldly baggage that comes with that.

Thank you for the kind words on last chapter I love you all and assss always all my love to @bettyfrommars @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing for writing the original prompt list and sparking this weird creepy world.

Special thanks to Somna and @jo-harrington for betaing/reading over scenes and making sure my nonsense brain makes sense.

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Love you bye.

Part 10 - Structural integrity of the deprived.

Knock. 

     Knock 

Knock

     Knock 

Knock 

     Knock

It goes back and forth like that for he can't tell how long, long enough that the sliver of sky he can see through his curtains isn't as dark as when he woke.

Long enough that the frustration has faded, regret setting in as he stares at the broken pieces of ceramic that now litter his floor. 

Long enough that your touch is a ghost lost in the silence.

Long enough for a rising worry to grow with every muted rap against the wall. 

The feelings bred by overwhelm and abject fucking exhaustion he knows that, but it's being nurtured by the inevitable goading of anxious voices in his head, well informed by 26 years worth of bad faith talks, kisses and rejection. 

“Hey.” 

Your voice doesn't come through the speakers, stereo still off and untouched, instead it's spoken loud enough to hear through the wall. 

“I think I'm going to get up.” 

He mushes his forehead against his palm, closes his eyes and tries to swallow the familiar ache your voice causes, now renewed sharp with the fading memory of your mouth smiling against his. 

“‘Kay,” is all he can manage right now, his voice cracking with the effort to form the word. 

The feeling’s too heavy for him to follow straight away and when he finally does lift himself up, his feet drag as he slowly changes out of his jeans, seams and creases indented into his skin. 

Why did he think it was a good idea? 

You said you were crazy about him too, but you were sad and he kissed you. That's fucked up right? You're going to think so. 

Stepping over the fragile shards that he'd so carefully painted he walks out through the dark apartment to you.

He just wanted to know you were okay. 

The frosted glass door from the kitchen shows nothing but black behind it, an empty space that looks like the abyss has crawled from the planes to join him at the threshold. 

He's never been scared of the dark, but the emptiness? He flicks on the lamp as soon as he's through, like it will show you, but only the smallest sound of you reaches him in the quiet. 

“Where are you?” He says around his paper dry throat. 

“Couch.” Your voice isn't flat or clipped and holds an easy inflection that calms his nerves, but a voice at the back of his head recalls that others have sounded the same. 

He can't move. 

You notice. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” his voice pitches up too high and makes him grit his teeth. 

Convincing. Idiot. “Are you?” 

“Mhmmm. Want to sit down?” 

No. 

But you're waiting on him, so he forces himself over, shifting and sitting on the edge of the seat. 

“I can hear your leg bouncing.”

He slaps a hand to it and pushes the nervous energy into chewing his lip instead as the silence drags out. You're waiting on him again, patient and lovely.

Shit. 

“I'm sorry.” It just blurts out, he couldn't have stopped it if he tried. 

“For what?” 

Is he even sure? Your voice is quiet, worried. You're being kind. 

“I shouldn't have…You were sad and...”

“What?”

His heart rate picks up, this feels like a trap. If he says the wrong thing he's going to fuck everything. 

“Do you regret it?” 

That will do it. Jesus.

All the words are just falling out his mouth unhindered like loose teeth. 

“No.” The way you say it is pointed. Not aggressive, but has a glaring period at the end, no room for argument. 

But he's always been good at arguing.

“But you were sad-”

“I wasn't sad after you kissed me.”

Christ. He scrubs at his face, bites at the edge of his thumb as he hears you move down the couch, miniscule movements he's tuned into over the months, there's a spring on the end that groans. 

“Do you regret it? It's-okay-if-you-do?” He hates how soft and sad your voice is.

“No,” The tone was meant to mimic yours in its confidence but instead it sputters out. 

“Sure?”

He swallows, looks to where you'll be sitting, imagines you looking back at him. 

“Kissing you? No. That it happened like that. In that fucking place, yeah kinda.” 

“So neither of us regrets it.”

He nods, remembers you can't see him. “Right.”

His leg is still bouncing, disturbing the silence with a muted duff, duff, duff, duff, duff.

“Want me to read to you?”

He laughs and it fucking hurts.

“That's my thing.”

“So you don't want me to read to you.”

“Did I say that?”

“I don't know, did you?” 

You're changing the subject, playing. Trying to pull him out of the spiral, the way you do whenever he's too lost inside himself.

It's obvious, but it's welcome, and it's working.

His leg has stopped bouncing as fast and the tease in your voice makes him smile a little. 

“Should we get the mics or are you just going to yell it.”

You graciously ignore the shake that still lingers in the syllables. “That would be more dramatic, which you're right is more your thing.” 

“Ouch,” he kids but the frown that appears is real. 

“That's not a bad thing.” It's like you saw it. “Get comfy, I'll grab a book.”

So he does. Then you read him the fucking Hobbit and if he wasn't disgustingly in love with you before... 

You try to do the voices he usually puts on and he smiles fully for the first time this morning, laughs as you chastise him for correcting you on names. 

The anxious thoughts are still there, but the tensions bleeding out of his muscles, adrenaline gone and leaving him tired, drifting, pretending you're sat next to him as dwarves start to arrive at Bilbo's door. 

He wakes a little while later, rousing with drool on his cheek and the sound of your music playing low along with the white noise from the mic. 

It's almost peaceful. Until he remembers, then the soul crushing embarrassment of him freaking out starts to sink in. 

He can hear the sound of you faintly tapping away on the keys of your keyboard as he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and figures he has a couple of options. 

Lie here for the rest of his life and wait until he eventually shrivels up under the weight of his own mortification and becomes one with the couch. 

Mope like an asshole and freak out some more about the fact he kissed you like he's in middle school. 

Or he could get up and do something. 

Trying your door seemed like a good place to start. 

Immediately. 

He jumps up with no warning, falling off the couch and startling you to the point where he hears something crash to the floor as he flees with nothing more than a brief declaration that he needed to go to the store. 

The phantom taste of cherry keeps appearing on his tongue. 

He's been trying to work out what you must have been drinking last night, listing off all the things he pours every weekend in his head but coming up blank. It stained your tongue a little pink too, he caught a glimpse of it when you lay laughing beneath him after he tackled you. 

Sucking at the cut on his thumb absentmindedly, he imagines how you felt beneath him as he leant in. His mouth’s suddenly tinged with the taste of iron, and it chases away the sweetness taking the image with it.

Shit. 

He shakes his head, turning to yank again at the new extension cable he'd hastily bought and that's now jammed somewhere out of sight through his doorway.

At least he hopes it's jammed. 

He just spent 20 bucks on the thing and almost lost a finger measuring the hallways when his shitty measuring tape came unclipped and lunged back at him. 

Gritting his teeth he gives it another tug from his place crouched just off to the side of your door. 

He swears to god if this goddamn thing isn't long enough. 

His thought’s cut short as the cable finally relents, sending him stumbling off kilter onto all fours just as the door opens, Charlie stopping mid step and looking down at him. 

“Eddie,” he greets, confusion deepening the creases in his forehead. “You uh, okay there son?”

Oh for fuck sake. 

“Heyyy Charlie.” He lifts himself upright trying his best to look aloof as the older man watches him curiously. “Measuring my extension cable.” 

Charlie's eyes trail to the cable curling out from his doorway, mouth opening with the start of a question. 

“Got a gig and the apartment isn't big enough to lay it out straight, only got a 12 ft tape measure, shitty one at that.” he holds up his hand showing him the nick across his thumb like the proof will somehow make this seem normal “so I thought..” 

Where the fuck is he going with this. 

“How's the apartment going?” He says waving his hand out abruptly to the still open door. “Managed to get the wall sorted?” 

Not suspicious at all. 

Jesus, he used to be better at talking his way out of shit like this. 

Charlie looks behind him and gives his head a small shake as his gaze lands back on Eddie forcing a tight smile onto his face. 

“Not as small a job as I hoped,” he sighs and Eddie thanks what ever fucked up god rules this place that he took the bait. “Actually I'm glad I erm, ran into you.” 

He straightens a little, interest peaking as Charlie nods for him to follow, walking back the way he came. 

A flash of the last time he crossed the threshold to this door enters his mind for a moment, lukewarm sickness rising and making him hesitate as he looks in, daylight pouring in through freshly scrubbed windows. 

He steps in and past the piles of debris that once coated the floor and towards the ripped and worn carpets he can still remember, soft beneath his bare feet. 

The memory of this place has replaced the deja vu he once felt, but it offers no comfort, looming like a spector in the emptiness as he swallows. 

“Looking good.” His words echo off the walls as Charlie stands with hands on hips looking over the kitchen that’s now half done, new cabinets installed to the left of the front door and a small fridge freezer combo in place but still unplugged. 

The familiarity makes him swallow as he trails over towards the oven that's still wrapped in plastic wrap and styrofoam, fingers trailing over the edge of the sink that's half plumbed in, coming away dusty.

“I was actually going to ask if that offer of a hand still stands?”

“Oh?” An awkward chuckle leaves him as he pushes his hands into pockets rocking on his heels “Not worried about me putting you out a job?

Charlie laughs, the sound a little awkward too as he scrubs at the thinning hair on the top of his hair, then looking skyward and mumbling “Not If my back does it first.”

“What you wanting help with?” 

He already knows, both of their eyes trailing to the back room as he says it. 

“Mrs has been on at me for months now to slow down, now the Dr's said it too and… you don't have to say yes son but if you could give me a hand, you'd be doing me a massive favour.”

Nodding, he follows as Charlie heads to the bedroom door. 

There are no belongings littered around, or crumbling black where brickwork should be but the paint and plaster are still slipping from the back wall, discoloured bubbles spreading up and abruptly stopping as it reaches the ceiling, their reminances staining the carpet beneath. 

“It needs to be completely stripped to the bones and built back up again” Charlie says with a nod and Eddie's eyes widen.

“I'm flattered that you'd think I'd even know where to start man, but-”

“It's not a tough job, and I can be here, help with whatever you need.” 

“I…I don't know Charlie.”

“Can I be straight with you?” The older man asks, taking a step towards him, features no longer holding their signature cheerfulness. 

“Uh, sure.”

“If Wolfe gets wind of me not being up to this he's going to get some cowboys in to sort this for half the price. Then that will be me out son.”

Eddie runs his hand over the back of his neck  “I mean, I work the week and nights at the weekend.”

“I'd obviously compensate you too son. How does $50 a week sound? ” 

It sounds really fucking good. 

“I can maybe fit it in on the weekend? ” He hates the idea as soon as he says it, the only time he has with you and he's giving it away. How the fuck does he get himself into his shit. But it's too late. 

Charlie opens his arms wide, face splitting into a grin. “Are you free tomorrow?  I can show you the basics and see what you think. Start fresh next week. If you decide it's for you that is.” He looks at him hopeful, desperate. Shit.

“Yeah okay. Sure, why not.” 

Charlie grins widely, slaps his back and rests his arm over his shoulder standing with him to look over the wall. 

“It's a piece of cake, really.”

Something in his peripheral moves and he flinches a little, head quickly turning to look at the far corner of the room. 

Nothing’s there.

Charlie chuckles, and then grimaces a little. “The old place can get pretty spooky.”

“Fifty bucks?” 

You trail off, mumbling something to yourself as he paces around the living room, fourth cigarette since he returned burning away between his fingers. 

“Yeah, but I don't know, I'm not exactly qualified.” 

He takes a hard drag, frowning as the built up ash softly falls over his shirt, he wipes it away with a defeated sigh. 

It's not a lie, but it's also not exactly why he's hesitating on spending more time there. 

“He said he'd teach you right? And you could use the money plus… You can get a better look at it, see if it's, you know, connected to us.”

Us. 

The phrasing makes his footsteps slow, a smile threatening to pinch the dimple in his cheek as he turns to come and sit, but his toes are still twitching out an impatient rhythm in his sneakers making the lackluster tape job crinkle. 

“Oh, so that's like over 100 bucks.” you say suddenly the comment making him look up with a frown.

“What? No, 50.”

“But it's 100 here, inflation. Doesn't matter. You should at least check it out.” He raises his eyes to look back into the empty apartment. 

“But it'll be Sunday.”

“We'll have other Sundays." He can hear the smile in your voice. 

We. 

Shit, we, us. It's pathetic how happy this is making him.

“I'll think about it. Anyway uh, doesn't look like we can play detective today with him in there.” 

“Oh yeah, okay. I mean, it's the weekend, what do you want to do?” 

He falls back into the couch and sucks his teeth. The night before comes rushing back. 

Fuck it

“Kiss you again, mainly.” he says, slinging an arm over his eyes.

You laugh, a surprised kind of sound that makes him tense a little.

“That would be nice.” Thank fuck. “Maybe later we could-” 

“Suck face again?”

You bark another laugh and a smile starts to break though, but then the implications of what you said settle in, the image of your empty bedroom smothering the memory of last night for a moment.

“We have the cable now,” he says rubbing at his mouth, “maybe we should try your door first, see if that works. Besides, I have work.”

“I can try and stay up.”

He winces, “Yeah.” 

The silence turns heavy and he wonders how he's still managing to fuck this up, he wants to say yes, say fuck it, tuck you away in his room but- 

“Are we okay?”  Your voice is small and he frowns to himself, eyes closing.

 “Yeah. Yeah ‘course we are.”

The goodbye takes longer than usual tonight, it's stilted, wound tight with the idea of what today should have been and weighed down with the prospect of seeing you later, it always feels strange turning out the last light when you're still there.

The noise of Saturday night helps drown out the anxiety, worry dampened down whenever it starts to rise by keeping busy and trying to keep on Gus's good side after he got chewed out for bailing last night. But by the time he boards the bus back, surrounded by drunken couples all heading home for the night, the exhaustion that was there this morning returns, doubt reflected back at him in the dark windows under the passing street lights.

He heads to slip a note under your door when he gets in, he's not sure if it makes sense, if he found the right words for what he was feeling, to apologise, to explain. The paper’s softer and a little wrinkled at one corner from where he laid it down on a wet patch on the bar and it scrunches a little as it goes under. He hopes it doesn't rip. 

When he comes in, the TV’s the first thing he hears and relief washes over him, the worry that you will disappear always lurking somewhere in the back of his mind. 

Throwing his bag down, he drops his keys in the bowl and toes off his sneakers, walking a couple of steps out towards the noise. 

You usually call out by now. 

“Sweetheart?”

A groggy sound comes from the direction of your couch and he sags against the wall, the darkness of the room looking back at him as your TV echoes within it. 

You tried. 

He can't tell if it's disappointment or relief he's feeling. Usually he would wake you, tell you he's home, you'd both head to your beds and he would fall asleep to your sleepy mumbles over the radio. But he just watches the empty room for a while instead imagining you there, how he would crawl in beside you or wake you gently and take you to bed with him. 

He's so fucked. 

He doesn't wake you tonight, instead he walks the short distance to his bedroom and dials one of the only numbers his fingers still hold the muscle memory for. 

“Munson residence,” the gruff voice answers, forcing a smile onto his face. 

Like anyone else would be calling at 3am.

“Hey old man. ”

“The prodigal son.”  

“Yeah, yeah I'm sorry life's been-”

“I'm pulling your leg kid, how's things?” 

“Oh you know, same shit different day. How about you?” 

“Similar, it's- oh goddamn it! Wait just a minute.”

The phone drops against the table and he hears the unmistakable squeak of the screen door being opened, his uncle's voice barely audible at a slight yell. 

“Go on. Git!”

There's some sort of commotion, distant and far away then the rustling of the receiver being picked back up. 

“God damn raccoons.” He can't help the grin that spreads across his face, “Think they woulda’ stopped coming, you've been gone three years.”

“Tell ‘em I say hi.” 

Wayne grumbles but there's a smile in the sound. 

“How's the city?”

“Uh.” He looks out to the window, and chews his lip for a second “yeah good. Maybe got a job doing some work fixing up the old apartment next door which is… new. Exciting I guess. 

“Well how about that, good on ya kid when do you start?”

“Heading round tomorrow.” 

“Working on a Sunday, remember you always used to gripe at me for that.” 

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I remember. How is the old hellhole?”

“Hawkins is well, it's Hawkins. Richie did tell me though,”

A gentle knock comes from the other side of the wall making his heart skip a beat. He must have woken you. 

He knocks back, resting his head against the wall, knowing that you'll likely be asleep before Waynes is done gossiping.

It's another couple of hours before he finally sleeps and wanders the restless corridors of his unconscious, and you or atleast the character with your face inevitably joins him tonight. 

Walking by his side until the walls start to stack up into buildings that are a little too high, the floors morphing into too narrow streets and the horizon settles, just out of focus. 

He still knows it's Hawkins though. 

You're following him, with your fingers pressed between the spaces in his, the other hand curled around his bicep as you speak excitedly about something he'll never remember. The feeling will cloud it. A warmth that curls through the center of him as he smiles at you, it's all that will be left when he wakes. 

He knows he's trying to get you both back to the trailer for food with Wayne, he's looking for his van. 

Something in his subconscious tells him it's gone and that sliver of reality makes the scene shift, faceless bodies suddenly crowding the street and he's filled with the sudden dread that if somebody sees you with him it will ruin everything.

Even here you see him, even when you're not really you. Your hand squeezes his and you tell him it's not far, there's no way you could know but he settles. The crowds shift away and you both walk until the scene blurs, to hop location.

The hideout, work; you're there taking it in stride as his worry ebbs and flows until you're walking into Forest Hills, just in time for the dream to fade as he floats deeper into sleep. 

“So we're going to need to clear this before we do anything. Usually I'd say hammer and chisel but.. ”

Charlie wipes a hand over the wall, paint and plaster sliding off where he touched “don't think that will be necessary, at least for the most part.”

“Right, right.” Eddie says, a slight grimace on his face as Charlie gives him a firm slap on the back and hands him a skimmer, “There's no way to mess up son.”  

Oh yee of little faith.

Left alone, he begins on the far left of the wall, digging into the layers of plaster and paint, grime drooling down his hand and landing with a wet slap as he throws it into the bucket at his feet. 

There were rushed apologies from both of you when he appeared just after midday, yours for falling asleep and his for waking you. 

The dream from last night had faded around the edges now, but there was still an ache left in its wake.

You didn't say that you'd read his letter, but he could tell. He thought it might make it easier if you understood, but the softness in your voice only made the ache swell. 

Definitely a good way to spend a Sunday. He definitely isn't thinking about being sprawled out on the couch laughing with you instead. 

The distance will do him good he reminds himself, the money will be good too, this is fine. 

Something flits in his peripheral and makes him flinch, spinning around and brandishing the scraper in the direction it came. Fading wallpaper looks back, the narrow window letting in enough light to banish most of the shadows, but there's a new feeling. 

Like somethings fucking watching him, his monkey brain's telling him someones here. He's pretty sure everyone's had this before, but usually it's banished as soon you turn around. 

But here and now, it just feels like it stares back. 

Then it's gone, the feeling leaving him as quick as it came. 

He can hear Charlie messing around in the front room and he wipes a hand through his hair, grimacing as sticky fingers get stuck to the strands.

He's taken off a good quarter of the wall the next time he feels it, a presence disturbing the space, forcing him to a stop mid scrape. 

Nothing’s there. It's to his left standing by the window. 

Nothing’s there. It's making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

Just turn around. 

“How's it going son?”

“Jesus!” he flinches away towards the wall flicking grey gunk across the room as Charlie laughs, hands rising. 

“Didn't mean to scare you. Told you it's easy to get spooked. I usually switch on the radio, it seems to help.” 

He takes a step around Eddie, leans down and flicks the knob on the small transistor radio in the corner and low music begins to fill the silence. 

“Nice work, you're a natural, but I think we might need that hammer and chisel after all for these spots.”

He's about to make a joke about whether to take being a natural at scraping slop as a compliment, but the words die in his mouth. 

The grimey brick work and melting plaster are fading from the wall above the radio, a spot no bigger than his palm slowly spreading outwards like a grease smudge on a page. 

Holy fucking shit.

Light's starting to shine through. 

Holy. Fucking. Shit. 

Murky silhouettes are appearing behind it, becoming clearer as it spreads to a couple of feet wide, shadows, edges, colours all getting sharper. 

Until they reveal the seats of a green couch.

Your couch. 

His hand slaps against the space, fingers stinging with the impact. Solid wall. 

“Son of a fuck-”

Charlie spins to face him and he freezes, smothering the annoyance. “A bug,” he grits out, eyes flickering between the old guy and the wall. 

“Oh, is that going to be an issue? I've seen some roaches, wouldn't use your hands though son, they can bite. “

He can't see it. 

Charlie carries on looking over the wall as he speaks, talking about the tougher spots and plans for the future. He even touches it, hand coming down and swiping over the blurred edges of the gaping window into your front room. 

Eddie can't stop staring. 

The couch looks much brighter, a more intense green when it's lit up by daylight compared to the shifting glow in the planes. 

“Sound good? I know you work the week but if I drop off the keys on a Friday? ” 

Charlie's question pulls him back and his brain scrambles as his eyes dart between him and the wall. 

“Drop the keys off? Yeah man, sounds great.” 

The grin Charlie gives him is wide and Eddie stumbles a little as he gets pulled into a hug, just in time to see your slowly creeping form approach. 

“What the fuck?” he hears your voice say, it's muffled but definitely there. 

“I really appreciate this son.” Charlie says releasing him. 

He didn't hear you. 

“Yeah no problem.” The words stutter out, adrenaline starting to hammer through him. 

“I head home around 5 but if you want to come here early we can chat about what needs to be done before I get away.”

He opens his mouth to try and stall, come up with an argument as to why he needs those keys right god damn now but Charlie cuts him off with a pat to the shoulder “Go enjoy your Sunday son we can start fresh next week.” 

You finally see him, as Charlie turns to gather the few tools scattered around. Eyes turning wide as they meet his, the glass of water you're holding slipping from your grip and crashing to the floor just as Charlie leans down and turns the radio off, the space blinking closed.

He's out of the apartment with nothing more than a mediocre attempt at a goodbye. Stumbling to collect his jacket and keys as he barges out. 

Something in him expects you to be there as he slams open the door to his apartment, but the disappointment of the empty space is short-lived as your voice appears, shrill and excited. 

“Oh my god!”

The laugh that comes out of him is slightly manic, eyes wide as he pushes his hands into his hair. “We fucking did it.”

“How!?” 

“I don't even know. Charlie turned on the radio and the wall just, you just” He waves his hands around, staring at his adjoining side. 

“The wall?” You're quiet for a moment, footsteps trailing towards it “You were just, floating.”

“Floating?”

“I was in the bedroom and I heard you and Charlie so I came out and there was this hole.”

“Fuck. ” 

“It makes sense, I don't have that wall so where else would you be?”

“Okay, well shit, I get the keys Friday.”

“The keys? Did you buy the place?” you laugh. 

“I'm going to work the weekends and fuck we can test it to see if we can- ”

You've gone quiet. 

“Sweetheart?”

“It's over the scar. Eddie on that side you'd be in…”

Nervous dread trickles down his spine as he thinks of the presence looming behind him, but he shakes it away, letting the idea of seeing you take over. 

He can be with you, see you, all weekend if he wants. Creepy bullshit be damned, maybe he will move in. 

“We're awake sweetheart, there's nothing there.”

“Eddie.”

“There's nothing there.” He pushes the last of the nerves down and lets a firmness fall into his tone, “I'm fine.”

He's going to find you. 

Your worries about him being there slowly faded as the day went on, palsated by promises of being careful and making room for a night full of excitable plans and laughter. 

Where you would go, what you would do, once you worked out how to get through of course. 

He didn't think it was exactly necessary to mention the feeling of the place, he told you it gave him the creeps when he first went round, and after all it was just a feeling. The more he thought about it the more he put it down to the lingering memory of the place from the planes, an overactive imagination. Plus it's not like you would be spending any time there once it was all sorted. 

Sunlight’s stretching over the plant on the window ledge making the underside of the leaves almost purple. You looked different in sunlight too, the shades and undertones of your skin lit up in the brief glimpse he got. He never took much notice of how the light would change you in the planes, how the shadows fell into the angles of your face but in the daylight it feels like he's seeing you for the first time. 

He guesses he is. 

He wonders if he looks much different. Oh fuck, he grimaces to himself. Great, new insecurity unlocked. 

“Hey mom! Do we have any batteries that would fit a hearing aid? I think Edmond’s have run out.” 

Lizzy yells, her voice pulling him out of his stare as he blinks away the spots of light blurring his vision. 

“What?” Ruth yells from the bathroom, confusion blatant in her tone, even over the sound of the shower hitting the tub. 

“Huh?”

Lizzy leans forward, pulling a red vine from the bowl between them on the small oval dining table. “Welcome back.”

“Shit sorry.” He adjusts the guitar in his hold, wiping a hand over his face. 

“It's okay, used to happen to my gram all the time, mom called them senior moments.” 

He sticks his middle finger up at her, leaning back into the self upholstered seat. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that I can't get the chord progression to sound right in the second verse. I've tried changing it but every time it just sounds worse.”

“Right, yeah. Okay, show me what you got.” he grabs a handful of off brand gummies from the bowl and nods for her to start.

She starts to play, humming the outline of lyrics she's still too shy to share and he pushes candy into his mouth, smiling as he listens. He can hear where she means, it's not bad but something flat. 

Pushing another candy into his mouth the sour taste of cherry coats his tongue and his attention stutters, eyes drifting from her.

“Still with us, gramps.” she asks music stopping. 

“Sorry,” he groans, “my heads up my ass today. Go again.”

She places her guitar down against the couch behind her and Eddie watches her warily as she leans forward, hands folding on the table in front of her. 

“Troublesome affairs of the heart?”

He sputters a laugh; is he that transparent? 

“Troublesome affairs of the heart? Okay Elizabeth and you call me old.”

“They're reading Jane Eyre in English lit,” Ruth says, coming past with a chuckle in her voice, and ruffling Lizzy's hair. “Be nice.” She softly scolds. 

Lizzy shakes her off, pressing her fingertips to the table and pinning him with a look that makes him shift in his seat.

“Okay, yeah, I guess. It's complicated.”

“What's their name?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, “Nope, we're not talking about this.” 

“Enid?”

“Lizzy.” He groans. 

“Albert? Gertrude!” 

“Lizzy.” Ruth scolds again, voice a little less soft from the other room and she rolls her eyes. 

“What about you? Spoken to what's her face yet?” 

She scoffs, “Beth, and no. Not unless I want to be socially ostracised for all eternity.”

“Little dramatic. You're allowed to speak to her," his chest aches a little for her as she turns away, sighing wistfully at the Joan Jett poster just inside her door. 

“It's just me and Joan for now," 

“You realise she's older than me right?" He says grinning as he chews.

She hushes at him with a scowl and picks back up her guitar. 

“Are you going to listen now, or do you need a nap.” 

He managed to hold his concentration enough to help fix the issue with the song but he's still not really present for the next 45 minutes, with anyone else he wouldn't care but with Lizzy. He feels like an asshole as he packs up to leave.

She hugs him a little tighter than usual when he says his goodbyes, her usual side hug and playful shoving gone in favor of a squeeze that although short throws him a little as he walks out the door. 

He's about half way down the hall when he hears Ruth shout after him, envelope in hand. 

“You forgot your money.” 

He adjusts the bag on his shoulder and presses it back into her palm as she holds it out for him. 

“Keep it. I spent more time in my head than in the room with her today.”

Her face falls a little, “You sure you're okay?”

“Yeah, just...”

“Troublesome affairs?”

He rolls his eyes. “Something like that.”

She nods, squinting at him and god she looks like her kid. “They good to you?” It's a pointed question, caused in part by her and Lizzy having inevitably been witness to the aftermath of Annie. 

He smiles as he thinks of you “Yeah.”

“Well, they better be. Otherwise they will have her to deal with.” 

“I don't doubt it," he says looking back at the open door with a smile. “It's just complicated. Sort of... long distance. I'm fine.”

When he finally gets home there’s a note waiting for him, folded into quarters with a hard crease as always, but you must have gotten a new notebook, the paper now a stark white with red lines instead of the plain cream he'd become accustomed to. 

He flops down onto the couch. 

“Morning spook, I hope you've had a good day. I was thinking, you know you said Charlie finishes at 5 each day.”

He's never claimed to be a patient guy and to be honest, he's pretty sure he's never really been described as one either. At least not when it came to waiting for shit he was excited for; holidays, campaigns, gigs, trips, the wait always had him climbing the walls. 

He liked to call it an unbridled enthusiasm for adventure. 

His uncle and his friends have called it other things over the years. 

But either way, it meant that when he read your idea of how you could both see each other before Friday, he pretty much bolted back out the door. 

The idea was simple. As they always are to begin. 

He would head next door after work, give Charlie a hand and you would see if you could escape early from the office. 

To say Charlie seemed confused at his sudden turn around would be an understatement, the tell tale signs of suspicion crawling into his tone as he questioned this new enthusiasm. 

It led to him tapping into some adlib monologue about how he'd spoken to his uncle, how he used to help Wayne around the trailer, how he'd always had an affinity for fixing broken things, maybe it would make him more confident for his work over the weekend, maybe it would lead to a change in direction. 

Thank fuck the old guy bought it, and the fact that no extra cash would be necisarry seemed to seal the deal. 

So he scraped and waited, and waited, bones aching and covered in gunk, until Charlie said he was packing up. 

You came home about a half hour later, apologies pouring from you and you both agreed to try again tomorrow. 

And then the same happened again. 

If the disappointment of a missed chance wasn't enough, the feeling of the place alone was starting to get to him. Building knots in his shoulder and a crick in his neck from checking behind him every couple of minutes. 

“It's only two days,” he reminded you when you came home that night, groaning sorry and throwing your bag down in frustration, and he tried his best to push forward the air of calm he was holding onto by a thread.

 It finally snapped a few hours later as he concocted a rambling plan about how he could get next door, forcing you to gently remind him that if he got caught picking the lock next door and by some luck didn't get evicted or arrested, you don't think Charlie would exactly be keen on still letting him help.

The ache of missing you was getting worse though, memories of the night you spent wrapped up together and the knowledge that he could see you now only making him more restless, the big dripping storm filled elephant in the room didn't help either, but the thought of your empty bedroom was there to push him back whenever he leant to much into the idea. 

Thursdays were always brutal, his home school kids were bratty and if they weren't the parents were. School had lunch and after school lessons so he spent the day trapped under fluorescent lights. 

The whole day was made worse with the prospect of tomorrow, his impatience making the days drag and when he finally got back and changed, he wasn't even sure if it was worth the valuable horizontal time to linger next door.

He does though, because if you come back early and he's in the fucking shower or some shit, he might just drown himself in there. 

He pushes his hand to his forehead like he's caught the thought. 

Too much. 

But christ, he swears every day this week has been 48 hours long.

He tries his best to look chipper as he walks into the apartment next door, changed out of anything he doesn't want messed up and ready to work. But he's so fucking tired, stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread. 

The slop's mostly gone, leaving behind the harder bits that need to be chipped away. He understands now why Charlie needed the help, his shoulders are starting to ache. 

Atleast the looming fucking paranoia seems to have died down, the place was still creepy but he'd either gotten used to it, or what ever was spying on him had gotten bored. 

It's an hour in when he hears the radio change.

A buzz of static making the music whine for a moment, and he acknowledges it with a side eye while he digs at the wall. 

“Eddie?” Your voice is quiet and dips like there's an echo. 

He almost crushes his fingers as the hammer slips in his hand and he scrambles to rush over to the wall, falling to a crouch. It causes you to flinch, eyes widening and hand slipping away from where it was pressed against the space. “Hey.” 

His breath stutters, heart in his throat. “Hi!” He winces at the volume of his own voice turning to look at the just ajar door then back.

Jesus, the glance he got of you the other day didn't do you justice, not when you're practically glowing in the late afternoon light with a rapidly growing grin on your face. 

“This is so weird.” You say, eyes reluctantly pulling from him to look around the faded edges. 

“Good weird?” He asks hushed and your eyes land back on him.

“Yeah, good weird.” You say matching his volume with a smile.

You're too cute. 

He leans in conspiratorially and when you follow he has to remind himself not to try and close the distance, not unless he wants a mouth full of whatever the hell is on this wall. 

“You don't need to whisper, he can't hear you,” he murmurs low and your eyes go wide, laughter falling from you and oh god if he thought your smile was good in this light. 

He forces himself back, leaning away and catches your eyes wandering down the grey muddy stains down his top. 

“Was kind of hoping I would be a bit less… gross the first time you saw me.” A self deprecating smile forms on his face as he glances up at you. 

You raise your brows at him, “Oh yeah, you look…awful.” Your eyes drag over him, the beginnings of a smirk curling at the edge of your lip and he quirks an eyebrow at you. “The dirty tank top is doing absolutely nothing for you. ” 

He looks down at himself again, “No?” 

You maintain eye contact as you shake your head, and he has to look away for a second, heat creeping up his neck as he grins. 

He's going out tomorrow and buying a 5 pack of these things. 

When he looks back though your face has fallen, worry edging into your features as you look past him and over the room.

“It's not so bad, not as freaky now I'm used to it.” He says moving into your line of sight. 

“Okay,” You shift, not looking wholly convinced, “so what frequency are you on?” 

“Oh uh, 98.7?”

“Right, wait a second.” You get up and he almost bumps his forehead against the wall trying to track you as you disappear into your room. 

He doesn't know what he expected when he finally looked through to your side, so accustomed to seeing the combined chaos of both your lives it never really occurred to think of them separate. 

The sight tugs at the feeling that's taken residence in his chest though, it looks bare, wrong. 

You appear again and sit back down on the couch with a notepad and pen, quickly writing down the numbers before adjusting your radio to match his. 

The faded edges shift as you move it, sprawling like a tide. 

“Okay,” your voice is a little clearer and it makes his heart skip as he leans to touch the wall, still solid, but when your hand comes up to meet his, he can feel it. 

It's not skin to skin, the closest thing he can compare it to is the feeling of static that comes off a TV screen. 

But it's a start. 

He pulls a pen from his back pocket scribbling down the frequency on the back of his hand, “So what about we..”

“Eddie, how's it going?” 

Scrambling up at the sound of Charlie, he picks up the abandoned chisel and hammer just in time before he comes through the door. 

“Yeah not bad,” he says, trying to steady his breath as you sit frozen, eyes trained on Charlie as he crosses the room. “got all the wet stuff off, started with these bits.”

Charlie looks over the wall, completely ignoring the gaping hole you're peering through and nods approvingly as he stretches up pretending to work at a piece of plaster that's already coming away. 

“Are you flexing.” he hears you chuckle and his eyes snap down to see your head tilted watching him, lips pressed together. 

No, he mouths, before leaning in, tensing his arms and smiling to himself as he hears you laugh again. 

“I think scrubbing it down with a wire brush before we tackle those would help,” Charlie says moving to the opposite side of the room in his scrutiny. 

“Yeah yeah sounds good man.”

He goes to whisper something about it not being his fault he looks good in a tank top when Charlie slaps his hands together making you both jump. 

“Well I think that's enough for today.” 

Coming back home is hard, besides the glaring lack of you, his own apartment now looks wrong, the bareness he saw when he peered through to your side now sitting here too. 

The evening drifts on, with chores and the usual routines, but your brief time together makes the plans for tomorrow all the more tangible and by the time he crawls into bed, fitting headphones over his head and settling back his face aches a little from smiling.

“Hey I forgot to say. I saw Nell today.” your voice is a little far away, fed directly into his ears along with the sound of rustling bed sheets, scratching against the microphone as you crawl into bed.

“Who?”

“Creepy sidekick.”

“Ohh, Creepy sidekick.”

“Tried to drop in next door to Grandma Death's before work, see if I could check for anything wrong with the wall, and Nell was coming down the stairs.”

“And?”

“She's not there. Apparently went in for some tests, so I'll have to wait until she's back to check.”

“Oh okay. What's up with her?... Possession?” 

“Eddie!”

“Sorry, sorry…Don't say you didn't think it.”

“I almost said it!” You whine and a cackle bursts out of him “Stop, you're a horrible influence.” 

“Fuck I-” His eyes bug out a little at the three words that were so ready to fall out and he sighs clenching his eyes closed “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” 

Silence lingers for a moment as he stares at the ceiling, arm slung over his head as he plays back the image of you from today. 

“If we work this out.” 

“When.” He corrects and you laugh softly. 

“When we work this out. Do you think we can sleep?” 

“Huh?”

He hears you turn in bed, your voice suddenly a little louder “If you come here or I come there, do you think we'll be able to sleep?”

“Not sure.” he says pulling his own mic over to lie on his chest “We can always check. I mean, even if I could, I don't know if I'd be able to get much sleep.”

“Mind out the gutter Munson.” You quip and his eyes widen as he looks to the stereo and grins. 

“I mean you know, being in a different dimension, pretty hard to sleep with all that excitement.” 

“Oh, yeah.”

“What were you meaning?” 

“I meant that too. ” 

“Yeah? ” he sits his voice a little low and smiles to himself as he imagines you lying there flustered. 

But then you humm and it rings loud in his ears and he wonders what it would feel like pressed against his skin. 

Oh shit.

The silence drags out again, and fuck he really hopes he's not reading this wrong. 

“If you were here?” he says waving his hand out into the air above him, “And we weren't sleeping. What were you thinking?”

“I mean.” You pause and he bites his lip as he stares at the ceiling. “We could always pick up where we left off the other night.”

He swallows hard. “Yeah? And uh, where were we?”

“I think you were kissing my neck.”

Friday had been a complete write off, the memory of last night driving him to near insanity as he rushed through the day like it would make it go quicker, hours dragging, attention span gone. 

But now he was home, you would be back any minute, Charlie is fucking late and he can't find where ever the hell he put his keys. 

He'd tried to just relax, shower and enjoy the peace for a little but as 5pm came and went he started to worry that he imagined Charlie saying he would fetch the key round. The idea that he might have already left appeared and sent him into his current spiral. 

Fumbling into the kitchen he trips over the laces of his boots that are still untied, desperation setting in as he starts checking places he knows his keys won't even be. Cabinets, the fridge, the silverware drawer rattles with the force that he throws it open when a knock comes from the front door. 

He tries his best to look unflustered as he yanks it open and despite being flushed, his hair being a state and him standing in untied shoes Charlie doesn't seem to notice. 

“Eddie my boy.” 

“Hey man. How's it going?” 

He arches his back with a groan “Glad it's the weekend.”

“You and me both.”

“I really appreciate your help this week. I think putting in that oven would have put me on my back.” 

The sound of your front door opening and slamming into the wall makes him stutter slightly, excitement suddenly making his calves ache with restraint to stand still. 

“Yeah uh, no worries man just say next time you need a hand with anything.”

Charlie plucks the keys out his pocket “So you’ll drop them off in the drop box downstairs Monday morning.”

“Bright and early”

Zipping his jacket up he holds the key out like a carrot on a stick and Eddie's hand moves out before Charlie withdraws it back into his palm  “I really appreciate this, but I'm trusting you son.” 

“You have nothing to worry about,” he says, jaw ticking slightly with the clenched teeth smile he's wearing. “I'll try to get the walls scrubbed down, so we're ready for next week. Apart from that you'll never know I've been there.”

Charlie nods, holds out the key again and he does his best not to snatch it as he listens to you rattling around the apartment. “Go enjoy the weekend.”

With that Charlie gives him a small wave and he clicks the door closed. 

“You got it,” the proximity of your voice makes him jump, hand going to his heart. 

“Shit.” he laughs “Yeah.”

“You heading round now?” Your voice is excitable and he could let out the adrenaline that's making his fingers ache or he could fuck with you. 

He crosses his arms as he leans against the wall. “Nah, not tonight can't be both-”

“Oh shut up you ass.”

“Give him a minute to leave, jeez.” he laughs out and you go quiet. 

“Oh shit, yeah. Right. “ 

He smiles as he imagines you, the face you make when you go a little abashed, he hopes he gets to see it. A sudden doubt emerges with the thought forming a pit in his stomach. 

What if it's all been a fluke. 

“Okay. ” he peeks out the door, the hallways empty, “Coasts clear”

“I'll set up.”

He rushes out tripping over his shoes slightly before realising he still doesn't have his mother fucking keys. 

“What's wrong? You yell as he comes back in, boots heavy as he be lines to tip out his bag again. 

“Keys!” 

“Back pocket?”

He rolls his eyes “I've check-”, the lump in the back of his jeans makes him frown. 

How the fuck?

It doesn't matter. 

He yells a thank you and practically runs down the hall, only hesitating at the door for a moment before flicking on the light and closing the door behind him. 

“Any spooky fuckers in here?” He calls out bracing slightly just in case, but the room stays silent. 

“Good. Thanks. I'm just going to uh, use your wall for a bit.” He shudders as he walks quickly to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. 

The radio hums to life and he takes a step away, then he watches as you appear. 

You're grinning, leaning into the back of your couch slightly. “Hi.”

Last night comes flooding back and he has to remind himself to breathe as he sits himself down on the ground in front of you. “Hey”

“Good day? 

“Long,” he says looking up at you. “Yours? “

You shrug, lay your head down to rest on your arms “Fine.”

“Sleep well?” He tilts his head as he says it, maintaining eye contact and failing miserably to keep a smile from creeping up onto his face. 

You're failing pretty miserably too. 

“Yes. Did you?”

“Oh yeah,” 

You laugh and turn your head a little, reaching down beside you and fetching a notebook. 

“So, I was thinking.”

“Yes” he raises his eyebrows at you and you twist your mouth at him. 

“You want to check if this works?” Your tone is accusatory but the heart isn't in it and it only makes his smile wider. 

“Sorry.” He laments waving out for you to continue. 

“So. We check the frequencies, I've got a list you can copy so we can stay on track just in case it disappears then we can find each other again without you having to come home. Then if that doesn't work, tomorrow maybe we should move around a bit to see if it's locations and. What?”

It's his turn to fluster, fully unaware of the way he was just staring up at you until now. No tease or smirk to hide behind, just wide eyed affection as you spoke. 

He can feel his face going pink. 

“Nothing,” He fumbles to a stand, making your eyes widen a little. “I'll just grab some paper to make that list.”

You test the radios, managing to get the hole, or portal what ever the fuck the thing is, to about double in size but it's far from a linear process, with no obvious progression from one frequency to the next. 

But most importantly, he still can't get through. 

The feeling of your hand against the wall not progressing past the static he felt the day before. But the frustration doesn't build like he feared it would, the spaces inbetween filled by flirting and talking and laughing, the only real drawback is the urge to kiss you twitching the muscles in the back of his jaw. 

“If I just… build a door.” he says, waving out over the wall. 

“I think Charlie might notice” you say over the rim of a mug of tea, hand obscuring the words ‘Cat Piss’ that made him cackle so loud you had to shush him when you appeared with it.

“Pfft, I'll make a small one.”

“Like a doggy door?”

“It wouldn't be the first time I've crawled through one.”

“What?” you laugh again and it's rapidly becoming his favourite thing. 

His watch beeps cutting him off from explaining and he stares down at it bewildered for a second. It's been three hours. 

“I, I'm gonna have to head, get ready for work.” 

“Oh,” you pick up your phone and frown “shit.”

“Time flies,” he chuckles half heartedly “but I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” your teeth tug at your lip and his eyes get caught on the movement, lingering as you release it. 

“I mean, there's always the planes,” you say, his eyes dart up to yours and you shrink back slightly. “Unless you don't want to.” 

“I,” he shifts to scratch at the back of his neck, “Do you?”

You shrug, eyes trailing away for a second like the eye contacts too much. “I miss you.” 

“I'm right here” he tries, knowing full well that the smile he's wearing isn't convincing anyone let alone you.

You only tilt your head, hand reaching up and knocking against the wall.

Fuck.��

He holds your stare for a beat longer before his watch beeps again and he scowls down at it as he turns it off. 

“I'll be back late.”

You nod, smile a little sad and resigned as you avoid eye contact again. Fuck. He hates it. 

He dips his head a little, trying to catch your eye. “Be back through in a second.”

“Okay, bye.”

You flick off your radio and disappear, grimey wall staring back as he stands in the almost dark room, he misses you already, the ache in his chest back and swelling. 

Fuck it, he can pretend for one more night.

“A date?”

“Yeah, or as close as we can get under the circumstances. I know this place next door has good books, good snacks. Opens around 3am?” he says, throwing himself down on the couch. 

You laugh an excited sort of sound contrasting against your words “Are you sure? You really don't need to, I just wanted to see you.”

“Yes and don't stress about it, I've got it all planned.”

He did not in fact have it planned, nothing more than a fuzzy outline really, but it was sounding better and better in his head the more he thought about it. 

He left early for supplies on his way to work, the guys asking about the bags when he got in and he beamed as he explained he had a late night date with a (special) neighbor.. 

Somebody stole the chips, evidence left in the trash can of the small office but by the time the night was done he couldn't have cared less. 

He showered and changed, sprayed the miniscule amount of cologne he had left at the bottom of a dusty bottle. Laid out books and the D&D one shot he wrote for you both in his room, then left the snacks and flowers he bought you resting on his bedside table. 

Simple, easy. 

But the bravado he'd built up over the night wavers as he wakes to the sound of the thunder, slips as he moves quickly down the hall and then fully melts away when you open the door. His hand hovering in a silent knock as you smile up at him softly. 

“Hi.”  

A weird fucking sound comes out of him in place of a greeting, wheezey and shakey that he clears with a shake of his head as his face heats. 

“Hi”

And suddenly he feels 17 again, standing at a front door, holding flowers for a date, smelling too strongly of cologne he pilfered from Wayne's stash, but you're not rushing him away, or asking why he didn't wait in his van. 

“They for me?” 

He gapes for half a second before nodding “Yeah I got them the other week so they're not as fresh, I was hoping you would actually take them home, but you know.” 

You reach out almost timidly and take them from him, the leaves wilting over your fingers as you smile at him. 

“Thanks.” You look him up and down, smiling as your eyes linger somewhere around his collarbone, making his inside liquify. “Tank top?”

“It's a clean one.”

Jesus, can you hear how dry his throat is? That was two days ago. Of course it's clean. 

Holding back a laugh you look down at the flowers. “I don't have anything to put them in.”

“I mean they're just gonna end up back in my bedroom so..”

“That's true.” 

You turn and put them on the side gently, smiling to yourself and then look back expectantly. 

“I bought a bunch of snacks,” he says on an exhale  “they're in my room, obviously and sealed so you aren't scared of being poisoned or anything, but like if you don't want to eat them that's fine it's just junk and I would have cooked if I could or got take out so, it's not a lot, but I got some stuff to do like books and some D&D stuff but we can just talk if you want or if you don't want to do that I mean it's not like we can go anywhere but.”

He suddenly remembers he's driving this meat suit and if the nervous babble won't stop coming out…“Fuck, can I just kiss you.”

Your eyes widen, laughter falling out in a huff as you nod.

One hand on your cheek, the other on your waist, he pulls you in and his brain quietens as he feels you sigh against him.

“Better?” Your mouths barely an inch away, eyes fluttering open to look at him.

“Dunno.” His nose slides up against yours, and you hum in question. "Maybe another, just in case.” 

You smile against him and he's a fucking goner, melting into you as your hand slips up onto his jaw. 

Thunder cracks in the next room and you both flinch, he's barely noticed it until now but it only serves to make him hold you tighter, your arms coming up around his neck.

“Isn't this usually left for the end of the date?” you say coming up for breath and his hand smoothes down your back. 

“Well we're anything but conventional.” He says, quickly leaning back in as another crash of thunder makes you curl yourself tighter around him. Mouths pressing against each other until there's another sound, just beneath the howling wind. 

Waves. 

You both still, heads turning in tandem towards the door. 

He's going to douse this fucking place in gasoline. 

Your eyes are wide as you look back at him, turning apologetic as you untangle from him. 

He doesn't bother fighting it when you move, only keeps himself pressed against you as you walk the few steps to the door. 

It's moved. 

The tape you lay along the floor has gone, swallowed into the shadow of a tide he can't see but can hear rolling over into an invisible shoreline. Blackness now spread almost halfway across the room. He stays pressed against you, arm around your middle ready to tug you back, but nothing happens and he feels you sag the longer he stares. 

He releases his hold on you once you've finally stepped back enough to close the door. 

“It must be the wall.” he hears you say. You're staring at the gap under the door, watching the lights move as he looks back at you and he takes a step closer. 

“We don't know that.”

You give him a deadpan look before sighing “I'm sorry, I pushed this, we shouldn't have come back.”

“It's okay. We won't need to come back soon.” 

“Eddie.” the next look you give him shoots a thread of panic through him. It's sad, defeated.

“We're going to work this out.” 

You turn away. 

“Hey.” he reaches out to you, turning you back to face him, hands coming up to gently hold your face. 

“I'm going to find you.” 

Thunder claps making you jump, hands coming up to grab his wrists. He holds your stare, pushes everything he has into making this okay, until your gaze turns to something that makes his breathing turn heavy. 

You can't look at him like that, not now. He's going to fold, not even fold, crumble and disintegrate like a wet peice of fucking tissue paper. 

Your fingers flex. 

It pulls the feeling of them around his wrists into sharp focus, then it's gone as you pull his hands from your face, reaching up and kissing him. 

The force makes him stumble back a step, his hands reaching out and grabbing your waist to steady himself. 

You don't move away even as your lips click apart, his pulse hammering under his skin as your hands run as he fist the back of your shirt, your hands are 

This wasn't how it was meant to go, he was going to do it right, make you laugh, take it slow, do everything you whispered to him last night, fucking worship you. 

“I don't want to pretend anymore.” You say it on a breath and it's all he can do but swallow the last syllable. 

Mouths crashing together, you're pulling at his hair now, tugging him into you like he's going to save you from drowning, but how the fuck is he meant to do that when he feels like you are filling his lungs. 

The all consuming feeling of needing you closer drives his hands to abandon their grip on your shirt, slipping under in search of bare skin as yours detangle from his hair. 

You're hot to the touch, the heat of you spreading over his palms and making his own skin flush like it's spreading up through his arms to join where your fingers are leaving a trail of tense muscles as they slide up his chest. 

You break the kiss and he gasps desperately, trying to pull you back, until you throw your shirt up over your head then pull at his. Naked from the waist up and with a look on your face that makes him want to fall to his knees, he throws his own off before crashing back into you. 

Skin to skin, chest to chest you're starting to step backwards, one hand on his waist and the other on his jaw, leading him. 

Somewhere within the overwhelming need, he wants to just look at you, lay you down, find where your skin knits, where the shadows fall and the lights will paint you in patchwork flecks, showing all the imperfections which make you.

But the sound of a crashing sea is a metronome spurring him on, a reality in the unexplained, a ticking clock that makes him urgent. Your hands are tugging at the waist of his pants as he reaches behind you, grabbing handfuls of flesh, mouths never parting until you're kicking away the last of your clothes and pulling him down onto the bed with you. 

You're so soft and warm, he's worried his hands are too rough, like they're going to spoil you in some way as they catch and drag over your bare skin. 

There's no coaxing or teasing as he falls between your legs, just fervent kissing to any skin you can both reach, teeth scraping, your palms burn down his skin as your heels dig into the small of his back and with a shared gasp he's filling you. 

Mouths parted and eyes locked, you both still for the first time since this began. He's as close as he can be, and you're right there; light dancing over your skin, looking at him with that pinch in your brow that's been there since you kissed him, so how does he still miss you? 

The feelings getting heavier in his chest, like it's adding to the weight of him and pressing you down into the mattress as he grips your hip and thrusts into you once.

It pulls a sound from you that he's only ever imagined alone in bed at night, breathless and sharp, it silences some of the noise in his head, soothes the ache in his chest. 

So he does it again, and again, until he knows your nails are leaving lines down his back and he's grateful for it, wants it, maybe if you dig in hard enough it will be there when he wakes. A reminder that you were really here with him. 

This was always the best part on all those lonely nights. When he'd picture himself so deep in you that your back was arching beneath him, he would lean back and say something teasing, something that would make you let out a laugh that turned into a moan and in return you would say something that made his eyes roll back in head. 

But you don't and he doesn't, because his words are lost in the less than gentle press of your mouths, bodies wrapped around each other, keeping him whole, keeping him together, keeping him from falling into the cracks that threaten to split him in two. 

Until it's not enough. 

Until he can feel his release rising and the noise in his head comes roaring back in, because it can't be over yet, this can't be it. So he slows, changes to a shallow grinding that has you writhing beneath him as he hides his face in your neck, shallow breaths that shake in his chest crawling over the sweat on your skin. 

You notice.

Because you always do, and soon you're pulling his face up away from the safety of the crook of your neck, hand moving to press against his flushed face, eyes earnest and so soft. 

“Eddie.” 

He tries to kiss you, tries to keep going but you soften around him, hands still holding his face awkwardly as he pants above you. 

“Hey, I'm here, I got you. We can stop.”

“No.” His forehead knocks against yours and after a beat you nod against him, kissing him gently against the corner of his mouth and reminding him again that you're here.

He feels himself sink back into you after the rigidity has left his muscles and you grind slowly up onto him. Foreheads together you lead him into a slow back and forth that has him squeezing your hand in its place with his on the pillow by your head, it's all the forocety that's left. 

The words return in soft murmurs and muffled curses and it's with a quiet whine of his name that you finally send him stuttering over into oblivion. Your own name whispered against your mouth before he moans, a confession hidden somewhere in the long pulled out sounds and it must be a rope around your ankle, because it sends you hurtling over the edge with him too. 

You don't roll him off after, don't get up to shower, don't dress quickly and leave him asking you to come back to bed. You comb your fingers through the back of his hair, stopping and moving to another spot every time you reach a tangle. 

Did he tell you he loved you? He can't tell if he said it out loud. 

But it doesn't matter because neither of you speak, even when he's fallen off to the side he can't bring himself to ruin the storm filled silence. Instead he watches your face as you walk your fingers up his shoulder, through his hair and down the slope of his nose. Then you spend the last minutes or hours or however long it really is, arms aloft in the air above you, watching how the light reflects off both your hands and paints shapes down the wall. 

The planes were merciful and let you both stay until the sun rose, but even the hours spent together aren't enough to cure the feeling of waking up to cold sheets. 

There's no hesitation to mumbled conversation over the radio this morning, a mutual longing in your voices that calms any reservations in him before they appear. 

Slow showers and coffee are had, separate and quiet, then he walks next door to the empty room and you appear, with tired eyes. 

The melancholy fades a little as the morning wares on, the fact he can see you giving some small relief as you test the radio again and begin to move. 

He can hear cars and the murmur of the city beyond the window as you both inch across the length of the room, the shitty insulation letting him know the world's waking and getting on without him. 

“98.2?”

He turns the dial and the edges of the hole waver as you both reach up, the feeling of static tickling his hand as he pushes his palm against yours, but cold reality seeps in with the wet plaster against his skin. 

“Okay 98.3?” 

You both try the frequency. 

Check the wall. 

Nothing.

You both try the frequency. 

Check the wall. 

Nothing.

You both try the frequency. 

Check the wall. 

Nothing.

    Move an inch. 

On and on it goes, until the conversation starts to die, replaced by glances at each other's dejected faces and he can feel frustration start to build. 

Because where do you both go from here? 

It's not working and if it doesn't, then what? 

“We still need to check the door.” You remind him like you can hear his thoughts. He blinks away a stare, nods and gives you a tired attempt at a smile. 

You're almost halfway across the room and nothing. 

Frequency.  

Check. 

No.

                  Move. 

Frequency. 

Check. 

No.

                             Move. 

Frequency. 

   Check. 

                 No.

                                     Move. 

Frequency. 

       Check. 

                    No.

                                             Move. 

“It would be a small one.”  The ring on his index finger is starting to chafe, grit from the floor and grime from the wall sticking underneath and rubbing against his skin as he spins it. 

“Pretty sure you can't make a small hole in solid brick. What if it comes down on you.” 

“It's probably not load bearing.” He says as he picks up his hammer and chisel and you lean further against the wall. 

“Probably?” 

“They took it down on your side.” 

“Yeah and look at the fucking mess it made” you say waving above you. 

The words sting in his chest. You don't mean it like that. 

He stares around over the wall, hammer and chisel dangling from his fingers as he moves out of sight. 

“Eddie.” You say sternly. 

“I'm just looking! ” He snaps back. 

He moves back and watches you frown at him, guilt bubbles in the pit of his stomach. “Sorry.”

He hasn't eaten. 

You remind him, tell him he should take a break. But he's fine. 

Frequency, 

      Check

                       No.

                                                  Move

    Frequency

                      Check  

                                      No 

                                                           Move. 

You're almost down to your kitchen when the sadness starts to fully settle in. 

You can both try something else next time, he has weeks left of helping Charlie. 

But there's a sort of finality to the crawling static that's starting to build over the radio. The knowledge is getting heavier with every failed frequency, soon you will inch over onto the linoleum, the radio will scream and it will make moving along anymore unbearable. 

                                                                   Move. 

                                                                   Move

                                                                   Move

The roar from the speakers still makes you both reel away despite the fact you knew it was coming, his hands clamping down over his ears as he stands and stumbles away. He's about to lunge and kill the power when he hears your voice. 

“Fuck!”

His head snaps up, disbelief wiping all other emotions from his face as you stand bent over, covering your ears, eyes squeezed closed. 

The window sized space has stretched out floor to ceiling, and your voice; it sounded so close.

The statics dying, turning to a low rumble as he stands frozen, watching you slowly unfurl, face slowly changing to gape at him and take in the change. 

It looks like it should make a noise, the edges of it rippling and snapping back and forth along the edges, he can feel the static in the air, like there's a storm about to move in overhead. 

He staggers a couple of steps forward without a word and you follow his lead, hands reaching up the familiar feeling of static spreading over his fingers. Then he feels it, the warmth of your skin. 

The feeling has you both clenching down on each other, fingers intertwining as a sound comes out of you somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

He's choking on all the words he wants to say. 

So he doesn't. 

“Wait! Eddie, wait!” 

He pushes forward, ignoring your concern as static pulls over his skin, tugging at his clothes and hair, it makes his teeth ache, his ears ring but he’s moving faster than his mind can protest. 

It's all over in a moment anyways. 

He stumbles forward, feet suddenly weighing him down like they're trying to root themselves in the ground and panic finally flares in him as his legs buckle. 

You catch him with a yell of his name and then ease him down to the floor as he struggles to catch his breath. 

His whole body’s shaking and he clings to you as you slowly move him so that he's away from the portal, leaning him up against your kitchen counter instead. 

His fingers grip onto the fabric of your sweater as you hold him, your words a little muffled as you ask if he's okay.

He's still lost for words though, staring dazed as he looks over your apartment. 

You pull back, hands coming up to his face, trembling fingers gently holding him as your eyes look into his. It's like you're checking he's real and it's enough to finally let him take a full breath. 

His face splits into a grin, a watery laugh spilling out as he leans in and kisses you. 

“Found you.”

Tag list is open. Let me know if you would like to be added <3

[sapphire4082]

I opened dssctm 18 and worked on it a little bit today 💕

[sapphire4082]

Please tell me you guys have seen this TikTok account because, holy hell. 🥵 It’s like fan fic come to life! ❤️

[sapphire4082]

Sex Eddie-cation

Eddie Munson x Inexperienced Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: You ask your best friend Eddie to teach you all your firsts

Warnings ⚠️ first-time kisses, oral f receiving, oral m receiving, first-time sex, unprotected p in v sex

Dividers by @strangergraphics can be found here

Lesson 1 - Kissing

You are a virgin in all the ways anyone can possibly think of. You are sick and tired of hearing about the experiences everyone's having and never experiencing it for yourself.

You approach your best friend Eddie, who you know has lots of experience. He's so attractive and you've liked him for ages. He's the only person you want to give your firsts to.

To your suprise, Eddie is happy to help and immediately wants to jump in with kissing, which leads you to now.

You're staring at Eddie's lips, wondering how they're going to feel against your own. Eddie clears his throat to get your attention. You meet his eyes, and he smiles at you sweetly.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He questions.

"I'm okay, Eds. Ready. Let's do this." You say determined.

He leans in close to you and places one hand on your waist the other on your hip.

"This okay?" Eddie breathes out, looking between your lips and your eyes.

You nod, and he gets closer, and you close your eyes. You feel the light pressure of his lips against your own, and they feel soft.

He pulls away after a moment, and you pull him back in, tangling a hand into his hair. He increases the pressure of the kiss, and you gasp.

You feel like you could kiss Eddie forever. His curls feel wonderful to run your hand through like you always knew they would.

He slips his tongue into your mouth, slow and exploring. You easily follow his lead, and Eddie moans into the kiss, causing a shiver of excitement to go down your spine.

He pulls away, biting your lip and trailing sweet kisses down your neck.

"You're a natural, sure you've not done that before?" Eddie says teasingly.

You blush and smile at him,

"You know I haven't."

Lesson 2 - oral f receiving

"You ever touch yourself?" Eddie asks, staring up at you from between your thighs.

You nod shyly, and Eddie tuts.

"Use your words, sweetheart."

"Yes, Eddie. It never feels how it's supposed to though, can't reach properly with my fingers." You pout and Eddie smiles wickedly.

"Oh, I'll make it feel real good." He pushes your panties aside and dives straight in with his tongue.

He laps at your folds, moaning at the taste of you and moving down to enter you with his tongue.

It feels strange at first but then you start to feel pleasure. He fucks you slowly on his tongue while his nose applies pressure to your clit.

You feel yourself getting wetter, flooding Eddie's tongue and mouth with more of your juices.

He moves back, looking up at you,

"Fuck, you like that?"

"Y-Yes, n-need more." You whine.

He immediately gets back to it, now using his fingers, he gets two in with no problem after his tongue had been inside you.

He speeds up and crooks them, finding your sweet spot and causing you to moan out louder as you clamp down on his fingers.

He adds another, and you love the feeling of being filled like this. It feels like nothing you've ever felt before as heat builds in your belly.

"E-Ed's." You moan unable to say anything else.

"Let go, come for me." Eddie says and applies a firm pressure to your clit.

You feel as if you're seeing stars as you cum all over Eddie's fingers, eyes rolling back as you tighten around his fingers.

He helps you through your orgasm, making you mewl when you start to feel overstimulated.

He pulls his fingers out, licking your juices off each finger one by one.

"Tasty." He says, winking at you.

Lesson 3 - oral m receiving

You feel yourself choke a little but refuse to give up. Eddie was teaching you how to give him a handjob when you decided to take matters into your own hands.

The gleam of precum on Eddie's tip was too hard to resist, so you leaned forward, licking it off and causing Eddie to let out the sexiest noise you'd ever heard.

You sank down on his cock, it hitting the back of your throat as you gagged but still continued.

"Baby, it's okay. You don't need to." Eddie says breathlessly, trying to move you off but also wanting you to stay.

You make eye contact with him as you continue to swallow around his cock, getting used to it while your eyes hold unshed tears.

"Fuck okay. If that's what you want. You're such a cheeky minx. What have I created." Eddie says bemused at your actions.

He starts slowly fucking into your mouth and you moan around him. You know your jaw will ache later but the feel of him using your mouth is too good.

He reaches for your hand and wraps it around the part of his cock that you can't fit into your mouth. Eddie helps you set a pace and how tight he likes to be held.

You can feel saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and making mess. Eddie looks down at you and groans.

"Fuck look at you, taking me so well." Eddie sweetly runs his hand through your hair as he picks up his pace.

You can see his legs starting to shake as he tries to bite back his loud moans.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart." He tries to get you to let him go but you refuse, taking him down deeper.

He spills down your throat, and you swallow it all as best as you can. You lick his cock clean and make sure to get any from around your mouth.

The taste isn't as unpleasant as you heard it was and you find you actually kind of like it. You hmm as you swallow the last of it and Eddie looks at you in awe.

"You did so well, a fucking natural. Just about sucked my brains out through my dick." Eddie jokes.

You laugh, happy with Eddie's praise and thinking about when you can do that again.

Lesson 4 - hand holding and love making

Eddie's driving you to his trailer after a corroded coffin set and you're gushing telling him how well they played and how they really nailed the new song they've been working on.

He reaches over and takes your hand, and you almost pull away, but Eddie holds on tight.

"Come on, sweet thing, another first, right? Shouldn't be too scary after you had my dick in your mouth." He smirks at you, and you flush.

You thread your fingers through his and spend the rest of the ride back in comfortable silence. Eddie's thumb rubbing soothing against your hand.

You arrive, and he leads you to his room. You stand nervously as he makes himself comfortable on his bed.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Eddie questions, picking up on your nervous energy.

"Iwantyoutofuckme." You rush out fast and incoherent.

Eddie gets up, lifting your face gently in his hands so you make eye contact,

"What was that?"

"I want you to fuck me. Please Eddie?" You beg.

Eddie's eyes widen before they darken with lust at your words.

"Fuck baby." He twirls his hair in front of his face, "You keep surprising me, come here?"

He leads you over to the bed and kisses you sweetly as you melt into him. The kiss turns more heated, and Eddie pins you to his bed.

You can feel his erection against your thigh as his hand trails down to where you want him most.

You feel like it's hours as he gets you prepared to take his cock. He meticulously takes you apart, having you shuddering over his fingers and begging for his cock.

He slips into you slowly, lifting your leg over his shoulder and telling you to breathe. He leans down, kissing your neck and peppering kisses over your face as you feel every inch of him.

He's soon settled, and he waits with his forehead against yours for you to tell him he can move.

"P-Please Eds. More." You moan out, moving your hips against him, turning the slight pain into the most pleasure you've ever felt.

Eddie's big, and you feel so filled in the best way possible, already seeing stars, and you've barely started.

Eddie pulls himself out before sinking back in. He's slow and gentle with you, wanting your first time to be perfect.

You hook your other leg around his back, pressing him impossibly closer to you, and he moans against your neck.

"F-Fuck so good, taking me so well like you were made for my cock sweetheart." Eddie thrusts into you, hitting your g-spot and making you arch up against him.

He notices and starts angling himself to hit there dead on with no mercy, his other hand sneaking down to apply pressure to your clit.

You find yourself falling over the edge easily, crying Eddie's name as you tighten around him, coming on his cock.

Eddie watches you orgasm in awe of how beautiful you look and it's enough to have him spilling himself inside you. You moan out as his cum fills you up and he keeps making little thrusts fucking it into you deeper.

He pulls out and immediately cuddles you close. You snuggle into his neck and tiredly whisper,

"I love you."

"What?" You hear Eddie ask and you sit up.

Fuck you weren't meant to say that.

He watches as you panic and pulls you into a kiss.

"I love you too. Fuck sweet thing, I've wanted you forever. Why did you think I agreed to this?" Eddie tells you earnestly with a bright smile.

Sex Eddie-cation Epilogue coming soon

Tagging some friends who may be interested: @jamdoughnutmagician @penguinsandpotterheads @myherometalhead @eddiesxangel @28bohemianmoons @sunkillerencoder @jo-harrington ❤️

[sapphire4082]

older!neighbor!eddie finding out somehow about his (reader) neighbors age kink through a mutual friend and teasing her w it when she goes over to talk to him abt smth 😳🫣

The Life And Times Of a Teenage Rock God

Pairing: Older!Eddie Munson x Reader

WC: 12.2k 

Summary: Eddie is fine on his own, he doesn’t need, nor does he want, a wife. He loves his solitary lifestyle, it suits him just fine. That is until he meets his new neighbor…

A/N: I need to stop creating overarching storylines and just write the requests as is lmao. Me making Eddie an anti-wife guy for irony is what pushed this to 12.2k words. It took me a minute to get inspiration for the request, but here we are. I did change it just a bit to something that made more sense for me. If my Eddie x Popular!Reader fic is late, it’s because of this. Pls forgive any mistakes, I'm washing my hands of this brain worm. Also, idk what timeframe we’re in here, Eddie grew up like he did in the show, but I didn’t write it like it was 2009 because the 2010’s era makes me cringe. Anywhores, thanks for the request! My inbox is open, but I can't promise anything.

Tags: it’s a lot- here we go, SMUT, 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex, cum eating, PiV sex, pussy eating, cum play, breeding kink, age kink, age gap (E is 43 R is 27), pregnancy kink, thoughts of pregnancy sex, use of the word ‘whorish’, kind of dumbification, humiliation kink kinda, slight degradation but in a condescending way not really name calling, overuse of the word hole, hole as a nickname, pubes, breast play, nipple stimulation, sir kink, eddie gets dommy, reader gets a little subby- just a smidge, thoughts of cock sucking, egregious flirtation, dirty talk, begging, innocence kink, a few jokes during sex, messy making out, reader gets insecure about her pussy before eddie eats her out, jealousy, yearning, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, eddie’s jumping the gun wanting you pregnant and married to him after first meeting, Robin and Vickie are wives (don’t talk to me about the US gay marriage timeline- they’re wives), Steve has an OC wife named Jess, possessive!Eddie, mentions of fighting a guy, Eddie is so cutesy old fashioned, I can’t think of anything else- if I missed anything pls lmk

Masterlist

Eddie didn’t feel very old, he’d rather argue he’s pretty spry for 43-years-old. He ate decent enough, long gone were the days of living off of Funyons and Mountain Dew. He kept fairly fit, he didn’t hit the gym, but he did a lot of manual labor at the shop as Head Mechanic. 

Of course he felt his age a bit when the kids, who were no longer kids, came back into town with their wives. Lucas and Max, the girl he used to refer to as the scary redhead who he now knows is a scary redhead, Mike and El, and Dustin and Susie. Hell, even Harrington’s group of rugrats age him a bit. It’s like every time one of Steve's kids hits 3-years-old he decides it’s time for another kid, poor Jess, Eddie thinks. 

He thinks his life of solitude has kept him young, no screaming kids giving him grey hairs, no nagging wife causing him frown lines. Life is good. 

Robin doesn’t believe that for a second, though. She’s been trying to get Eddie back out there for five years now, completely ignoring his pleas for her to stop setting him up on dates with the girls she knows. He always has weird experiences with her friends, he’s not sure how she befriends such eccentric women. 

Every summer since the guys moved into the same neighborhood twelve years ago, Steve throws a block party open to all neighbors. It’s a huge barbecue pool party type of thing, complete with Steve’s array of stupid aprons.

This year he’s wearing the one Eddie got him as a gift for his birthday. It’s black with a spatula and a two-pronged fork crossed in an ‘X’ formation with the words, 'My meat isn’t gonna rub itself.’ Eddie thought it was hilarious, Robin, on the other hand, shook her head muttering, ‘dinguses,’ under her breath. 

Every time they get together Robin tries to show Eddie how nice it is to have a wife, often using Vickie as an example. It makes Eddie roll his eyes, she’s so transparent, can’t hide her endgame if her life depended on it. 

Vickie hands Robin a plate of food she gathered for her from the buffet style table, Robin too engrossed in a conversation with Eddie about the difference between Metal and Rock. 

“No, you misunderstand me- my point is rock is like an umbrella,” she makes a broad gesture above her head, “and metal- oh, thank you, hun,” she tips her head back to smile at Vickie’s figure behind her shoulder, taking the plate from her hands. 

Eddie can’t help but smile at their cuteness, he remembers hearing from Steve how horribly nervous Robin was about even talking to Vickie. Now they’ve been together for twenty-two years. Even that makes his cold, dead heart thaw a little. That is until Robin gives him a pointed look.

“Seeee? A wife is a plus! You don’t have to get your own food!” She says it like she’s trying to sell him the newest upgrade to his cellphone, it makes him shake his head, an amused expression settling onto his pale face. 

“Uh,” Vickie cuts in, finger in the air as if making a point, “yes you do have to get your own food. I’m only doing this because of that thing you did earlier,” voice lowering like it’s a secret Eddie shouldn’t hear. 

“Ah,” Robin nods, catching on to Vickie’s insinuation, “yes, that thing that I did to you earlier with my thing on your thing.”

Eddie snorts, Robin has not changed in all his years of knowing her, never really a smooth criminal.

“You guys do know I know how the birds and the bees work- or,” he pauses, stuttering a bit before continuing, “I guess the bees and the bees in this case.” His brow is scrunched, lip curled, cringing at his awkward save.

“You know I’d like to think that you do, Eddie. I really would, but I don’t see a ring on your finger,” shaking her head, reprimanding him. 

Eddie lets out a laugh, “What are you, Saint Robin? I need to marry first before I can have sex?”

“Well-,”

“-And by the way, I have had sex before,” he laughs.

“Sure you have champ,” she pats his knee condescendingly, a look of faux pity on her face.

“Whatever, I don’t need to take this from you,” he gets up to check on Steve at the grill.

“Hey buddy!” Steve draws out the greeting, flipping a burger before looking at Eddie. 

Eddie grumbles a greeting, turning to face the party, his back to the grill, a cold beer in his hands. 

“I hate these singles, you know-,” Steve’s shaking his head, looking down at his ministrations preparing to complain, but Eddie’s already cutting him off.

“Oh please! Like you couples are a joy to be around, it’s always, ‘I gotta ask my wife,’ ‘Sorry I can’t come out tonight, I’m too busy looking for my balls,’” he mocks. “News flash! They’re rolling around in her purse!”

Steve opens his mouth to ask Eddie what the hell he’s so bent out of shape for, but he never gets a word in. Eddie’s too busy going off on one of his grand speeches, just like old times.

“I don’t need anybody, okay? I’m perfectly fine on my own, in fact, I’m more than fine. I'm happy! I’m glad I don’t have anybody waiting for me to get home! I’m fucking ecstatic that I get to eat alone, nobody takes my food, I probably save thousands of dollars buying everything for one! Not everybody wants to be married and pop out a whole baseball team like you and your wife, Steve!” Eddie’s meltdown draws the attention of a few surrounding partygoers, earning him some judgemental stares and curled lips. 

Steve looks at him like he’s grown two heads, his eyebrows furrowed, mouth agape as he lets Eddie’s words become stale in the hot summer air. Just really letting him stew in it before he decides to speak again. 

“Okay…project much?” He shakes his head in disbelief, “I was talking about the burgers. Robin bought me individually wrapped burgers, in single packaging. It’s been a bitch to unwrap all 30 of ‘em,” he emphasizes his explanation, a level of sass in his voice he hasn’t released in years. 

Eddie deflates at the sight of the scraps of white paper and cellophane littering the ground on the other side of the grill, feeling incredibly stupid right about now.

“Oh…yeah, I knew that…” He shoves his free hand into his pocket trying to fight through the embarrassment, “I love Jess by the way, she’s lovely, gorgeous family you have there,” he rushes out, nodding his head. 

Steve looks at him incredulously, “Shut up.”

“Shutting up.” Eddie nods, pressing his mouth shut, resigning himself to standing in the awkward tension he created. 

Thankfully, he’s ‘saved by the Robin’ as she comes rushing over with Vickie hot on her trail, “Steve, you have a new neighbor! She just pulled in with her U-Haul, it looks like she’s unpacking everything herself.” She stops to catch her breath, all the information spilling out in one excited spiel, then she turns her bright eyes to Eddie which makes him raise his eyebrows at being singled out, “And she’s a total hottie, maybe a little young, but you could be a manther!”

Eddie recoils in disgust at the name, here we go again, he thinks. Matchmaker Robin to the rescue.

Steve looks at Robin like she’s crazy, “Robin,” he bites with a clipped tone, yanking her proverbial leash like she’s a much too excited dog. He can’t believe she just said that in front of her wife. If he said that in front of Jess, the balls that Eddie claims are in her purse would soon be at the bottom of Lovers Lake, right next to his weighted body. 

Vickie quickly cuts in, coming to her wife’s defense, “Oh no it’s fine! She is a total hottie,” she nods understandingly. 

“Robin, I am begging you to stop setting me up with the women you know,” he holds his hands up, pressing them together, pleading with her. “Also, no offense, but you’ve lost all credibility in determining hotness, the last girl you set me up with looked like Uncle Wayne in a wig and a tube top,” he deadpans. 

“Um,” Vickie jerks her head back like she’s been slapped, a frown etched into her freckled face, “full offense taken, by the way.”

Before Eddie can tell her he didn’t mean to call her hotness as Robin’s wife into question, Robin is pulling him and Steve across the yard to the neighboring house, the one that’s been up for sale for six months. Steve’s still clutching his spatula as he’s getting pulled away, he shouts behind him, “Honey, man the station! Don’t let my burgers burn!” He tosses the spatula to a very pregnant Jess who scrambles to catch it.

Eddie’s attempting to go deadweight, leaning back against Robin’s strong pull, but the woman must be on steroids because she’s trucking Steve and him along just fine. 

She pulls them from the backyard to the side of your driveway, when they arrive your back is turned to them. You’re wearing high-waisted jean shorts and a pink tank top in an attempt to stay cool in the hot Indiana sun. 

You’re reaching for a box you creatively labeled ‘clothes’ when you hear a woman’s voice behind you, causing you to turn around. 

“Hi, I’m Robin! Welcome to the neighborhood- I don’t live here, here, have two men,” it all comes out in a jumble as she pushes Eddie and Steve forward towards you, “They can help you move whatever you need!” 

As quick as she arrived, she hurried away. You didn’t even get to introduce yourself to her, she just spoke quickly at you then shoved two random men towards you. You watch her retreat back to the block party, amused confusion riddling your face.

In her absence you turn to look at the men in front of you, hesitating on what to say, you’ve never had this happen before. You open your mouth to say something when Steve gets there quicker, “Sorry about her,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, vaguely gesturing to where Robin disappeared to, “she can be really direct. I’m Steve! Nice to meet you.” He shakes your hand as you tell him your name, both of you silently wait. It’s Eddie’s cue to introduce himself, but he’s too busy staring at you.

Eddie’s jaw dropped the moment you turned around, he’s convinced he’s never seen a woman so beautiful in his entire life. The way your clothes fit you so nicely, your shorts might as well be painted on you. He’s immediately thinking lewd thoughts at the sight of the unyielding jean hem squeezing the fat of your thighs. 

He’s pretty sure he could paint your every feature from memory with how deeply his roving eyes are consuming your image. Don’t even get him started on the way your tank top accentuates your breasts, he feels like a teenager all over again, trying to think of math equations so he doesn’t pop an ill-timed boner. 

Then all of a sudden you’re looking at him, everything is in slow motion, you’re coming closer, he’s breathing in deeply through his nose to desperately catch your scent, you’re gorgeous lips are moving and he’s imagining them moving up and down on his cock, then he feels a sharp pain to his ribs and he’s jerking forward, a spluttering cough escaping him. 

He feels like he just woke up from a dream, he realizes Steve knuckle-punched him right in the ribs, he rights himself and glares at his friend before turning to you again. Your ethereal face looks across between concerned and amused at the actions his so-called ‘friend’ committed. He’s going to have to have a talk with Steve about not hitting him like a 12-year-old in front of hot women, especially the hottest woman. 

“What,” Eddie mutters the question, having missed what you said before when he was too busy thinking about your lips on his- stop. He realizes he sounds like a dufus, ‘what,’ smooth, Munson, he thinks. 

But you don’t laugh in his face, call him an idiot and go back to your work like you probably should. No, instead, you just grin at his clearly dumbstruck face. 

“I said, ‘And you are?’” You bat your lashes at him, tilting your chin down, never taking your eyes off of his. 

“Eddie…Munson,” he cringes at the way his name felt foreign on his own tongue just now, what the hell are you doing to him? You’re like some kind of siren and he’s a sailor being lured, except you’re not singing, you’re not even trying to lure him and he’s already showing up with goggles, flippers, and a snorkel, diving into the waves in your eyes, all on his own free will. If you are a siren, he’s planning to be your easiest catch yet. 

Steve’s watching his friend absolutely flounder in this interaction, shaking his head. ‘I’m happy alone,’ he mocks Eddie’s earlier words.

“Well, Eddie Munson,” you look him up and down like he’s a five course meal and you’re prêt-à-manger, “you look pretty strong, care to help a poor girl out?”.

“Yeah, I’m really strong,” he’s nodding, unblinking eyes on yours, his phrasing awkward in the context of the conversation. That wasn’t what you asked, but his mind is running about as fast as Dial-up Internet. Plus, he sounds like one of Steve’s boys whenever Steve asks if anybody can help him pick up the lawn chairs. The irony of a clearly younger woman making him feel like a horny, stuttering teenager again is not lost on him. 

Your smirk only widens. Steve’s looking between you and Eddie in the silence of your nonresponse, suddenly feeling very out of place, the tension is thick like molasses. He clears his throat, drawing your eyes to him. 

“I’m here too, by the way.” He raises his hand like it’s roll call back in high school. 

You huff out an amused breath, “Come on, I could use both of you,” nodding your head back to the truck. You push a large box out of the way, clearing a path for them to pick up your dresser from inside the truck. 

Eddie follows you, a little too close to your distracted body, his mind whirring at your comments about using him. 

When you turn back to ask them to get the dresser you jump at Eddie’s proximity to you, you didn’t realize he was following so closely, practically on your heels. 

“Oh! Jesus!” You backup a little from his body, a hand clutching your heart as you laugh at the scare. 

Steve is quick to pull Eddie away from you by the back of his faded band shirt, apologizing for his friend’s creepy behavior, “Sorry, he failed out of obedience school,” he quips nervously. 

Eddie’s too busy staring at you to hit Steve for his comment, “That’s alright,” you size Eddie up, a flirtatious glint in your eye, “he seems like he’d be better at giving orders anyway.” 

Eddie’s fighting tooth and nail to withhold a groan at your words, the way you’re looking at him could send him into cardiac arrest. Every flirtation is accompanied with hungry eyes and an innocent smile, he feels like he could make a religion out of it. He’d develop a full on multi-level marketing scheme to recruit followers in your name, he’d indoctrinate as many apostles as he could. He’d create the rules to your religion himself, rule number one would be only he gets to fuck you. 

Steve blanches at your brazen comment, both thankful you’re not looking at him like that and traumatized he’s being forced to watch a woman flirt with Eddie while Eddie fumbles the interaction astronomically. 

You move on like you didn’t just say the nastiest thing Eddie’s heard in a while, “I could use help with the dresser, I was supposed to have a friend come help me, but he actually called to flake out right before you guys came over here.” You chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed for over-explaining yourself to these attractive strangers.

Eddie bristles at the mention of a male friend, he wonders if you have a boyfriend, that makes him feel even more weird. He tries to convince himself you probably don’t, and if you do he’d like to have a talk with the douche who left you to do all the grunt work. Grunt work, now he’s thinking about the grunt work he’d like to do with you. He has to mentally slap himself back into shape, you asked for his help, he’s damn well going to help you. 

“No problem, we can do it right, Steve?” He looks to Steve who’s hesitating, if he knew he was going to help somebody move he would’ve stretched, or offered to pay for movers so he doesn’t have to do any work. 

Steve begrudgingly nods. They work together to pull the dresser to the edge of the truck, carrying it into your new house at your direction, both releasing relieved grunts when they set the heavy structure down. 

“Thank you so much, guys, really! Is there any way I could repay you?” Your brows are furrowed, a hopeful, wide eyed gaze bouncing between the two huffing men. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve waves his hand at you, heading to leave your mostly empty bedroom. 

“No bed?” Eddie noticed the dresser was the only large thing in the U-Haul, no bed already in the bedroom either. He was thinking you’d need a little more help than one thing, he just gained the ability to talk to you. He doesn’t want to leave now. 

You’re caught off guard at his question, “Oh! Um, no, it's being delivered tomorrow along with my couch and some other things,” you nod at him. 

Confusion takes over his face at your explanation, “Where are you going to sleep tonight?” You have no couch, no bed, he doesn’t see any comfortable place for you to rest. You can’t possibly sleep on the floor, that’d be ridiculous. 

You smile at his scrunched up face, appreciating the cute wrinkle in his brow, the concerned brown doe eyes, “That friend I mentioned earlier has an extra bedroom.”

“The flaky friend?” He knows that’s who you mean, but he feels the need to point out that the guy couldn’t show up to help his ‘friend’ with her stuff. And now he’s going to sleep with near you? Eddie feels like fighting this guy and he doesn’t even know him. He realizes his feelings are a bit dramatized, but you look like that!

Your smile widens at his comment, not taking any offense by it, but Steve cuts in before you can respond, “Okay, Eddie you got your answer, come on she probably wants to unpack now,” he gives you a tight lipped smile.

“Well we can’t just do one thing.” Eddie turns around, heading back out to the moving truck full of boxes, “Come on Steve, you could use the workout, Mr. Dad Bod.” He pats Steve’s beer gut causing Steve to smack his hand away.

You rush to follow their quick steps out, “No, you guys don’t have to help! I know you’ve got a party going on,” you gesture to Steve’s backyard, the chattering and the music still going strong. You can hear screaming kids and the splashing of pool water, it sounds like a great time, you’d feel horrible if they wasted such a beautiful day on helping a stranger move in. 

Steve’s quick to tilt his head at Eddie who’s currently stacking two boxes onto each other to carry into your house, “Well, she does have a point-”

“Nonsense, Steve,” Eddie glares at him before nodding over his shoulder to the boxes waiting to be brought in, “Now come on, many hands make light work.” He’s already carrying the stacked boxes through your front door.

Steve just nods, resigning himself to helping, you look at him with uncertainty, “Are you sure? You really don’t have to-”

He opens his mouth to speak, picking up a box, but before he gets a word out Eddie’s jogging back, clapping him on the shoulder. “Of course he is, plus this’ll be good because once we get your stuff inside you can come over to the party and have a drink!” 

His easy grin is intoxicating as he looks at you, shiny brown eyes alight with excitement, it eases your discomfort immediately. “Sure, I’d love to,” you nod, smiling to yourself as you pick up a box. 

Before you can take it inside Eddie pulls it out of your hands. You frown, about to ask him what he’s doing when he reprimands you. “Nope! Ladies aren’t for working, they’re for directing men and lookin’ cute,” he grins, leaning into you for emphasis, then he’s shoving the stolen box onto the one Steve’s already holding. 

You scoff at his arbitrary ruling, “But I-”

He shakes his head, cutting you off, “No ‘but’s, now show me where you want these?” 

Sighing, you have an amused smile permanently etched onto your face at his insistence on helping you. 

Eddie was right, many hands do make light work. The men are done in no time, all the boxes brought into your house and placed in their necessary rooms, ready to be unpacked at your convenience. You’re directing Steve where to put the last box when Eddie comes up behind you holding your vintage Coca-Cola sign. 

“You like a lot of old stuff,” he points out, looking between you and the sign. He nearly squealed earlier when he saw your massive framed Metallica tour poster, it was for the Damaged Justice tour back in ‘88, the one he actually went to. 

You smile at his comment, appreciating the way his t-shirt sleeves are rolled up to his shoulders, showing off his muscle definition. You can see the many tattoos littering his pale skin, he must lotion himself religiously because they all look great for his age, assuming he got them when he was younger, of course.

Midway through helping you move he had put his hair up in a low bun, his poofy curly locks resting in a knot at the knape of his neck. A few pieces seemed to have fallen free at all the bend and lifting, they’re framing his face so beautifully it makes your mouth salivate. You hope to god he had a hair tie because of how often he puts his hair up, not because he’s got a woman at home. 

Only one way to find out.

“Well, what can I say? I like my stuff like I like my men,” you smile sweetly at him, taking the Coke sign from his hands and meeting his eyes, “old.” 

You turn around to put the sign back where he found it, you know his eyes are on you, the feeling makes you grin. No man has ever made you feel so powerful, you’re about to turn into a dictator if he doesn’t put you in your place, and god, do you want him to. 

Eddie feels like he could run a marathon from the vigor that your comment has instilled in him, he feels twenty-two again. He doesn’t know how this night will go, but he’s praying to his god, that is now you, that he can go home with you. 

Steve overhears your flirtatious comment, he sees the felonious hunger in Eddie’s eyes and he’s looking for the fastest exit out of there. He’s had it up to here with the eye fucking happening between you two. 

“What’s that?” He perks his head up like he’s hearing something, his voice draws both your and Eddie’s attention, “Yeah, I’ll be right there, honey!” He calls out to his wife as if she was in the other room, not in the backyard next door. 

You laugh, meeting the amused eyes of Eddie before looking back at Steve. 

Eddie can’t help but fuck with his friend for his poor excuse of an exit plan, “I didn’t hear anything…did you?”

You bite your lip to contain the smile threatening to take over your face at Eddie’s offer to team up against Steve, you shrug impassively, not wanting to poke fun at Steve quite yet.

Steve knows exactly what Eddie’s doing and he could punch him for it, “Yeah, well, you’re not in tune with the vibrational frequencies of a very pregnant wife,” he chastises. 

He goes to leave but not before stopping at your front door, turning to face you again, “It was nice to meet you, feel free to come over and join the party if you’d like,” he throws a genuine smile your way.

“Thanks, Steve! And thank you for all your help!” 

He nods and then he’s out the door, effectively leaving you all alone with Eddie for the very first time. 

Eddie’s watching the door Steve just left out of as you turn a flirty smile towards him, “Is your wife calling you too,” you ask after a beat of silence, an amused tone saturating the question. 

Eddie’s eyes reach yours, a small smile on his lips before he shrugs, “Don’t have one.”

It’s a simple answer, but you can never be sure what you’re walking into so you ask what feels like the most logical next question, “Widowed?”

“Single,” he quickly clears up, his eyes watching your every move with rapt attention, trying to see your reaction to the new information. Just like the siren you are, you give nothing away, remaining mysterious and alluring. 

Your eyes narrow at him, tilting your head, “Looking?” 

“I wasn’t.” 

The conversation is like a tennis match, both of you keeping up with unbridled enthusiasm, no clear winner in sight. 

You distinctly note the past tense he used to answer your last question. You wonder what he means by that, he wasn’t looking for a relationship? Is he now?

Eddie, on the other hand, is wondering how you’d look in a wedding dress, all pretty and innocent in white. He damns Robin for putting those types of thoughts in his head, always talking about how he should have a wife by now. He feels smug at the thought of showing you off to her, his pretty little wife. 

But then reality crashes back through and he’s thinking about that theoretical boyfriend that might not be so theoretical. Sure, you’ve been flirting with him pretty much this whole time, but he doesn’t know what the new generation gets up to. Maybe you and your boyfriend get off on cuckolding, he doesn’t know. 

Only one way to find out.

“How about you?” Narrowed eyes copying yours, nodding at you. 

“Oh, I just got here. I don’t think anybody’s calling my name,” you smirk, eyes teasing. 

Do you want them to, he thinks. 

His smirk matches yours as he tilts his head, noting how you dodged the question, he knows you know what he was asking. You’re purposely being difficult, he’s addicted to it, he wants to figure you out and he wants you to make him work for it. You’ve got a head start already, and so far, he’s eating it up. No modern porn or nudie magazines have ever exhilarated him like you are in this moment, and he’s only known you for an hour and a half. Your voice is like an aphrodisiac in and of itself. 

“You know what I was asking you,” he mutters, you shiver at the way his voice seems to have dropped an octave.

“I’m browsing,” you flash a flirty smile, an innocent shrug lifting your bare shoulders. 

-

Eddie walks with you over to the party, introducing you around to all of the neighbors, he’s enjoying watching you socialize. He feels like he’s learning about you through watching you interact with others, and what he’s learning is he wants you. 

You’re so sweet and funny it makes everybody swoon, you’re constantly surrounded by at least five people at a time. He stands close to you, listening to the stories you’re telling, the information you’re sharing about yourself. Your proximity to him intoxicates him. He feels like you’re his, like he brought his new toy to school and all his friends are jealous. 

He’s only had two beers, and he feels drunk on the way you crack a joke, get the crowd laughing, then turn to him to see if he, too, is laughing. He’s got a permanent smile etched into his face at the way you throw your head back when you laugh, the way you reach to hold his arm as you giggle. He almost flatlines when he sees you with the kids. 

One of the Harrington kids, little Charlotte, comes running to hide behind your legs. She’s clearly avoiding her older brother in a game of tag that has migrated a little too close to the adults. Eddie knows what’s happening, he’s seen it happen many times before. The boys play rough with each other, Charlotte asks to join just because she wants to be included, they chase her down until she’s ‘it,’ and then they spend the rest of the time easily dodging her until she ends up crying to Steve or her mom. 

Before Eddie has a chance to reprimand Cameron for narrowly missing crashing his body into yours as he tags Charlotte behind your legs, you’re already leaning down to a pouting Charlotte with an open hand, palm up, a devious smile on your pretty face. You let her tag you so you’re ‘it,’ the minute her little palm slaps yours you turn to Cameron who’s watching incredulously because adults aren’t supposed to play. 

You raise your brows at him, a shit-eating grin on your face, shaking your head, “You better run, kid.”

He takes off and you’re flying after him, Eddie can hear Charlotte’s giggle as Cameron screeches, “THAT’S NOT FAIR!”

He watches as you chase the boys around the yard, just absolutely terrorizing them, you successfully tag Cameron who groans dramatically. You shriek and laugh as you run away from him, perfectly juking him as you run around the playset. The other boys start yielding to you, calling you over to run away with them. They’re probably feeling the coolness emanate from your every pore, he thinks.

Eddie grins as he watches you play with the kids, he’s busy wondering if it’s possible to love someone only hours after meeting them when Robin, Steve, and Jess sidle up beside him. They’re all watching as you side shuffle, mirroring the movements of a frustrated Cameron as he tries to tag you, the playset safely dividing you two. 

“I told you she’s hot,” Robin smugly punches Eddie’s shoulder making him glare at her, he can’t hold it for long though, eyes quickly going back to watch you with a smile on his face. 

“I like her, she’s funny,” Steve nods approvingly. 

“I agree, also, she helped avoid a meltdown. That’s wife material right there,” Jess adds, nodding at the way you pick up Charlotte to run with her in your arms away from Cameron, both of you giggling and shrieking. 

Eddie has never once wanted kids, he always thought they were far too much work and not enough payout, fearing the inevitable screw up that would lead to years of therapy when they’re adults. He was fond of the Harrington clan, but he was glad to go home to a clean, quiet place. But seeing you play with the kids, the way you involved Charlotte, the way you easily navigated around a sure breakdown, it leaves him in awe. 

He always thought kids would be hard, and he knows they are based on the grey hairs on Steve’s head, but he can’t help thinking you’d make it easy. Just like how you made talking easy, joking, flirting, moving heavy stuff, you made everything easy and fun. He stands there watching you, imagining how you’d treat your own kids, the kids he hopes to partake in. 

He looks to the side at Jess rubbing her pregnant belly over the sundress she’s wearing, he turns back to you, picturing how you’d look pregnant. How beautiful you’d be in a sundress, how maybe he could convince you to wear nothing underneath, he imagines how distracting your growing breasts would be. The thought makes him gulp, he’s starting to think he’s in too deep already. Maybe just a little. 

-

As the sun sets, the pool water chills causing the kids to get out, sleepy from the chlorine. The zombie-like children cause the parents to call it a night, thinning out the herd of the party. Jess has started the nighttime routine for the Harrrrington clan, baths, showers, teeth brushing, storytime, and eventually bedtime. 

Steve is grilling a hotdog for you since you missed the food earlier when you were moving in. Robin and Vickie are starting a fire in the fire pit Steve built, Eddie can hear them bickering about whether log cabin style or teepee style would be most efficient. 

Eddie’s with you by the ice chest, he opens it to get himself another drink, but he stops as he’s reaching for it. Instead, he turns to you, “Can I get you a beer?” 

You shake your head, a polite smile on your face, “No, thank you. Just water for me, please.” 

He nods, grabbing a beer for himself and a bottle of water for you, he straightens up to hand it to you before a scary thought comes to mind. As he’s about to place the chilled bottle into your outstretched hand, he freezes, pulling it back to him, “You are old enough to drink, right?” 

He looks like he’s holding your water hostage until you answer his question, it makes you laugh, nodding, “Yes, I’m old enough to drink. I’m just not a beer girl.” 

He lets out a relieved breath at the confirmation, “Oh thank god. 

You take the water he grants you, narrowing your eyes playfully at him as you watch him pop the cap off the bottle using the edge of the ice chest, “How old are you?” 

He chuckles at your question, eyes shining with mirth as they meet your playfully suspicious ones, “Older than that Metallica poster you have,” he quips, “I was at that tour.” 

You smile at the mention of your Metallica poster, it’s one of your favorite vintage finds. 

“Forty-three,” he concedes, “how old are you?” He tilts his chin down as he asks, eyes glued to you, the heat of his gaze makes you feel lightheaded. You decide to blame it on the summer sun, but your plan is dashed when you remember it’s nighttime now. 

You try to regain some control, lighten the tension with a joke, “Well, a lady never tells, but I’ll give you a hint,” he raises his eyebrows expectantly, a pleasant smile on his face as he waits for the hint, “it rhymes with twenty-seven.” 

He snorts at your set up and how plainly you answered it. He finds himself tilting his head, admiring you fondly. He’s addicted to everything about you, your humor, your flirting, the light touches you occasionally give his arms, the teasing glint to your eyes that never seems to go away. 

No woman he met on the shitty dates Robin sent him on could ever compare to you, he’s never met someone who can go toe-to-toe with him when it comes to jokes or bits. He feels like he’s known you all his life, but at the same time he finds himself wishing he knew you sooner. 

His thoughts are interrupted as Steve calls you over, he follows you as you grab a paper plate and accept the food from Steve. 

“Thank you so much, Steve, I really appreciate you firing up the grill just for me.” 

“It’s no problem, I’m glad you came to the party, you’re a really great addition to the group,” he smiles kindly at you. 

His comment makes your heart soar, the feeling of being accepted so quickly warms your heart, “It’s a great group,” you compliment. 

His smile broadens, feeling proud of the circle of friends he’s kept over the years. All of a sudden he hears Robin’s loud, “Damn it!” 

“Excuse me, I’m gonna go help the cavewomen create fire,” he quips, leaving you to head to the folding table where the condiments sit, right next to Eddie.

Eddie was 100% eavesdropping on your interaction with Steve and he’s glad he was because he feels even more confident that he was meant to meet you, you were meant to be his. 

You set your plate down on the table as you reach for the ketchup, you look at Eddie as he watches your hands work, “I like the whole retired rocker look you got going on, by the way,’ vaguely gesturing to his whole body. 

Eddie snorts, “Rocker? Yes. Retired? No.”

“Oh, so you have active income then, huh?” You look at him, playfully interested like you’re sizing up a possible sugar daddy. 

It makes him laugh, nodding his head, “Yeah, Head Mechanic at the garage off Piedmont. What about you?”

You smile, looking down as you close the cap to the ketchup, “Well, if you must know, my dowry is three goats and five sheep, is that enough for you?” 

He feels like he smoked your teasing smirk and got high, he shakes his head fondly at your ability to make a joke out of anything. You’ve made him laugh more times today than he’s laughed in months. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m looking for actually,” his eyes twinkle with mirth. 

You grin, “You know I used to have a poster of Kirk Hammett on my wall in high school,” you muse, the memory of the faded poster makes you smile, “I used to worship him, I thought he was the hottest guy I had ever seen…now I’m not so sure.”

Eddie feels warmth flood his veins, all blood rushing south at the thought of you worshipping him instead. 

He shakes his head in awe, “I wish you were around when I was in high school, Hawkins women weren’t exactly down with this look,” he looks down at his ripped black jeans, studded belt, and black band shirt.

You lift the hot dog to your mouth, not biting into it just yet, “Oh, I’ll be all over you,” you say quietly, voice sultry as you maintain eye contact, finally opening your mouth and taking a big bite. 

Your words, the tone you used, the eye contact, and the way you fit the phallic object into your mouth makes him huff out a sexually frustrated breath. You’ve been teasing him off and on all day and he’s pretty sure it’s making him clinically insane. He knows just what he’d prefer you have in your mouth right about now. He realizes his sanity walked out the door of his mind the second he laid his eyes on you. 

You’re chewing your food with a close mouthed smile on your face, the chipmunk cheeks you’re exhibiting are not helping Eddie’s soundness of mind, it only makes him imagine how similar you’d look with his balls in your mouth. 

He stutters out a breath, clinging to any shred of decency he can find, “D-Don’t you mean you ‘would have been?’”

You swallow before speaking, your mouth still closed, tongue running over your teeth, a salacious look in your eyes before you innocently smile. “That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You play confused, as if you’re not hunting him, using your best ammunition to take him down. 

Eddie gulps, “I live around here,” he nods, eyes never breaking from yours like a trance. “Just three doors down that way,” he throws a thumb over his shoulder pointing in the opposite direction of your new house. 

You know exactly what point he’s trying to make. Game, set, match. You win.

You smile, missing the sound of his voice when you push his buttons, “I also happen to live around here,” coyly adding, batting your lashes at him.

He sucks his teeth, eyes daring you to prolong this, “I have a bed.” 

Nodding your head at his point, plain and true, “Touché.”

In a matter of moments he’s taking your plate from your hands, putting it down onto the table, grabbing your now free hands and pulling you out of the backyard. He quickly shouts his goodbyes as he passes Steve, Robin, Vickie, and an exhausted Jess rejoining the group.

“Bye guys, thanks for everything, it’s been fun, we gotta do this again, okay, see you later,” it comes out in one single breath, the group looks shocked. 

You look back as Eddie pulls you away with such force you’re struggling to keep up with his long strides, “Thank you guys!” You wave at them, an apologetic look on your face.

“Use protection,” Steve shouts before laughing as Jess hits his shoulder. The last thing they see is Eddie’s middle finger as the two of you disappear around the corner of the other neighbor’s house. 

“And he said I wasn’t a credible source on who’s hot,” Robin shakes her head feeling incredibly smug. 

-

Eddie doesn’t let go of your hand even when he’s fishing into his pocket for his house key. He feels around for the right key on the split rings, pulling the set out once he finds it. Shoving the brass key in the door, he moves to the side to let you in first.

You’re giddy, you can feel how wet your panties are already. The caveman-esque way he pulled you all the way home really worked you up. You giggle at the silly bow he does, emphasizing the open door for you to walk through, “How very honorable of you,” you muse. 

He shuffles in after you, flicking on the foyer lights, quickly shutting the door and locking it. He’s not planning on leaving the house for the rest of the night and he’s hoping you won’t either. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna last,” he pulls your arm, spinning you so your back is against the closed door, his hands holding both sides of your head before he pants out, “I’m planning to do some very dishonorable things to you.”

He smashes his lips to yours, a surprised moan escaping you at his desperation. Your open mouth gives him ample opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth eliciting a needy whimper from you. Your knees buckle when his hands slide down to the sides of your neck, he quickly slots his knee between your legs, his body pressing you into the door even more. 

He breaks away, huffing out desperate breaths, your head feels hazy, your eyes are glazed over. You feel like you got high from just one kiss, and what a kiss it was. 

“Do you want this as much as I do?” The question is breathy, he’s nuzzling his nose with yours, teasing you with an almost-kiss as he waits for your response. 

The pull to his lips is so bewitching you can’t speak, only nodding as your head bobs closer to sealing the kiss. Something stops you from completing it, it’s like you’re waiting for him to do it, you’re waiting for his direction, his ‘okay.’

“Use your words,” he chastises you, you whimper, shrinking at his intensity, subconsciously lower your hips to let your clothed, aching pussy meet his thigh in an attempt to relieve the tension. When he feels what you’re doing he straightens up, pulling his leg away despite your desperate whimper trying to call the sensation back. “Tell me, do you want me as much as I want you?”

“Yes! God, yes! Please,” you whine, needing him to touch you all over, you need his thigh back. 

“Yeah, you wanted me right from the start didn’t you, honey?” He tilts his head, hungry eyes roving over your pleading face. You practically preen at the delicate touch he dances across your cheek, reaching to affectionately smooth your pretty hair as he waits for you to muster up the power to respond. 

“Mhm,” your eyes roll back as his rough hand travels from your hair to your jaw, holding you firm, he pulls your attention back to him. 

“Flirted with me so openly, didn’t you, dirty girl?” A grin stretches across his face at the sudden embarrassment you show, mortified at being called out for your actions. You look so cute, squirming, trying to avoid his eyes despite his strong grip on your jaw leaving you very little room to look elsewhere. 

“I just wanted you…,” you mutter, eyes not meeting his condescending look, he’s pouting at you, mocking your embarrassment. 

“Well you got me, sweetheart. What did you wanna do with me?”  He leans in to nose his face against yours, hypnotically drawing your lips in again, but never granting you a kiss. No, kisses are for good girls who answer questions. 

You shrug, any confidence you had from your earlier flirting is nonexistent, the power he holds over you is too great. He’s all consuming, he’s everything you see, everything you feel, everything you smell, everything you hear, everything you taste. 

“Can I tell you what I wanna do with you?” 

Eagerly nodding, you’re thankful he let you off the hook with the question. 

“I wanna marry you.” His face is all you can see, not a doubt in his eyes at what he just said, no freudian slip to be found. 

Your stomach drops, that wakes you right up out of your love drunk haze. He should bottle those words and sell them to single women, they’d beat out the entire market of smelling salts. Your eyes are wide, your jaw dropped, you can’t believe what he just said. You just met him today and he’s apparently already sold on you. You have to admit, it is flattering to have a man want to marry you right after meeting you, you can’t say that’s ever happened to you before. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same, throughout the day you had suffered daydreams of yearly summer barbecues, a king sized bed for two, cooking meals together, group dates with Steve, Jess, Robin, and Vickie. Afflicted with thoughts of pretty rings and curly haired, brown eyed children. But you shoved them down deep into a locked box, chaining the lid shut just in case. 

Now here Eddie is, pinning you against the front door of his house, kissing you breathless, picking the lock to the box filled with illicit daydreams. 

He reads the shock on your face, not swayed by the reaction because he knows you’re meant to be his. He knows you won’t get married today, and maybe not tomorrow, but it will happen. There’s no way it won’t, he’s certain. 

He doesn’t need your words, he doesn’t want to hear what you stumble to say in response to his profession, no amount of obfuscation from you will convince him you’re not his. 

“But in terms of right this moment,” he elaborates, “I’m gonna fuck you.” 

You feel like you have whiplash, his words go straight to your pussy, you feel yourself clenching around nothing. You have no words, your jaw has not picked back up since he said he wants to marry you. 

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?” He tilts his chin down, eyes trapping you in an obscene staring contest. 

You nod, letting out a breathy, “Please.” The need for him is starting to drive you insane. 

“Good,” is all he says before he’s picking you up bridal style and carrying you up the stairs, grinning at you. You squeal in surprise at his actions, arms settling around his neck, holding on for dear life. 

“I can walk, you know!” You’re terrified he’s going to drop you, but you did see him do a bunch of manual labor today and you can’t lie, he is strong. 

“Ladies shouldn’t have to walk,” he admonishes, the same tone as when he scolded you for trying to move your own boxes earlier, you shake your head at his endearingly incessant need to do things for you. “And hopefully you won’t be able to when I’m done with you.” 

His dirty comment makes you scoff, playfully hitting his shoulder, “You know for how much you talk about what ladies should and shouldn’t do, you certainly don’t talk to one properly.” 

He grins as he sets you down onto his soft duvet, caging you in with his thick, tattooed forearms as he leans over you, eyes leering, “I can talk to you properly,” he admits, “or I can fuck you properly.”

Your breath stutters, eyes bouncing from his deadly gaze to his soft lips before ending back at his eyes. 

He shrugs, lightheartedly saying, “Your choice.”

Nodding with a bite to your lip, “I’ll take option number two,” you breathily mutter.  

With a grin he leans down to give you a chaste kiss, “Thought so.” 

He goes to pull away from the kiss, but you pull him back, languid tongue dancing across his bottom lip before he allows you entrance. Your fingers inch into the curly locks of hair as you messily makeout with him, you feel him kneel onto the bed, settling between your legs. You blindly reach behind his head, untangling the hair tie from his hair, giving the roots a tug which earns you a pussy clenching groan from him. 

He breaks away to pull your tank top over your head, a newfound fervor to see you naked, his own shirt follows suit. You sit up a little to help him peel the fabric off, opting to take your bra off while you’re up. He turns slightly to throw both tops to the corner of the room near the laundry basket, when he turns back his jaw drops at the sight of your bare breasts. You make him feel like a teeanger all over again, he feels like he could bust in his jeans just at the sight of your half-naked body. 

“Fuckkkk,” he groans, hands groping your chest. “You have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen, baby, been lookin’ at them all day.”

You moan at the rabid touch of his needy hands, the fire in your veins making you so sensitive to his every squeeze and grope. He pushes your breasts together, leaning down to attach his greedy mouth to one of your perked nipples. His lithe tongue circles the sensitive nub before giving it a light bite. That action earns him a pornographic moan birthed right from your parted lips. He mouths at the one nipple before moving onto the other one, his thumb toying with the one he just left.

When he nips at the second one you instinctively tug his hair eliciting a muffled groan from him, his mouth full of your tit. You can feel how hard he is, his hips grinding into your thigh for relief. The imprint of his hard cock is making you impatient, you just want to feel him inside you now, you want to feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock. You moan at the nonstop attention to your peaked nipples, the thought of how it’ll feel when the head of his cock pierces your entrance and the relief that will wash over you leads you to pull his head off of your tits. 

When he gazes up at you, he’s got a fucked out look on his face like he was getting off just from sucking on your tits, you can even see a string of saliva connecting his wet lips to your chest. The sight of his slobber on your breasts, the blooming of accidental hickies on the sensitive skin makes you whine. 

“Eddie, please, I need you.” He nods, immediately working down your body, kissing and licking any skin he can reach. 

His hands are shaky with need as he unbuttons your shorts, working them down your legs. He moves to kiss your thighs, assessing exactly where he’s going to leave bite marks when you put your hands on his shoulders, effectively halting his movements. He looks up at you, concerned he did something wrong already. 

Your brows are furrowed, you know what he wants, but you don’t think this is the right time. “Eddie, I’ve been in the hot sun all day…”

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, he’s trying to read your face because he doesn’t understand why you’re bringing that up. So was he, he was with you, all day. Are you just saying true facts about your day? He doesn’t think now is the time to do that, but if that’s what you want to do he’ll oblige. Weird foreplay, but to each their own, he thinks. 

“I cheated at cornhole,” he admits earnestly.

You frown at him, what the fuck is he talking about? He looks so genuine, it makes you laugh, “What?”

Okay, now he’s very confused, his arms are still resting on your doughy thighs, his elbows just outside both of your legs, leaning his real weight onto the bed. “What what?”

You shake your head at him, an amused look overtaking your face, “I just mean I got kinda sweaty playing tag with the kids…,” you look at him hoping he gets it, but when you see zero recognition in his eyes you continue. “I don’t think now is the time for you to-,” you can’t bring yourself to say it, embarrassment taking over.

Thankfully though, Eddie finally catches on. He’s relieved you’re not actually into the weird foreplay of revealing truths because he doesn’t want to tell you about the boner he got from watching you eat a hotdog. 

“Oh! No,” he waves a dismissive hand, “honey, that's what I like to call seasoning,” he grins, leaning toward you as he says it. 

His wandering fingers inch under the elastic at the top of your hips, preparing to pull your panties down, but you stop him again with your concerned words. 

“But I’m not-,” a frustrated breath leaves your lips. You’re frustrated, not at his actions, no, but at the feeling of having to preface this in the case that he pulls your panties down and hates what he sees, or god forbid, tastes. “I’m not…trimmed…or anything.” 

He looks at you like you just told him the most ridiculously stupid thing ever, he shakes his head, a frown clear and present in his eyes and on his face. “Baby, I was around in the 70s,” he implores, “I might not have been sexually active then, but I was still stealing my uncle’s nudie magazines. I’ve seen a few things, explored a few jungles in my time,” a smile creeps up his lips.

You roll your eyes at his crass terminology, feeling a pinch to your heart at the thought of him with other women. 

“I earned my forestry badge, okay? So let me in there!” His eyes are shining with amusement, enjoying the cringe his words bring you. You’ll get used to how nasty he can be, it’s only down from here, he was on his best behavior today. He starts pulling your panties down when you speak up again.

“Eddie-”

“If you try to make up another excuse to keep me from this pretty little pussy I will gag you with your own panties,” his stern voice cuts you off, eyes dangerous as he reprimands you. You immediately close your mouth, your eyes wide, he’s got your full attention now. “I don’t know what boys you’ve been fucking, but only ra real man deserves such a perfect cunt, and I’m Him. You understand me?”

His confidence makes even more arousal flood your already damp panties, you’re about ready to let him do anything he wants to your body. You nod quickly, granting him access, breath quickening as he yanks your underwear off before stuffing them into his back pocket. He rubs his face against your thighs and you shiver at the scratchy stubble. Your pussy’s pumping out slick like it knows Eddie’s huge, sure to give you all the natural lube it can for when he fucks you. 

He nuzzles into the wiry curls on your mound, your breath catches when you feel a suck of air, realizing he just took a deep whiff. You’re too turned on at this point to be embarrassed, your arousal is dripping from your needy hole, you feel like you’ll die if he doesn’t touch you in the next five seconds. When he noses the hair guarding your slit, a lock of long, brown, curls fall in front of him. 

He lets go of your thighs to reach for your hands, pulling them into his hair, making you hold the curls into a makeshift ponytail that will double as a rein. If you had known he’d be going down on you you wouldn’t have taken his bun out, but it’s too late now, you have no idea where the hair tie is. 

When your hands are securely in his hair he takes one arm and wraps it around your thigh from underneath, guiding your leg over his shoulder and holding it hostage. He takes the other hand and rests his arm lightly on your pelvis to part your pussy lips from above, he leans in to give a long lick with a flat tongue, just getting a taste for you. He moans at the flavor, you have no idea just how much he doesn’t care that you were out in the sun sweating all day. He feels like he could cum just from the tangy taste dancing on his tongue.

You moan at the feel of the wet muscle, it feels like you can finally breathe when he explores your folds. You’ve wanted him all day, burned for him for hours on end, and just like a cool drink of water- he’s quenching your thirst. 

He gives quick flutter licks to your hole, just teasing you to get a reaction. It doesn’t disappoint, you’re whining, hips gyrating with need. He alternates between light pressured licks to your clit and plunging his tongue as deep as he can into your tight hole. He’s got you breathing heavy in no time, his fingers squeeze the fat of your thighs as he grinds his pulsing cock into the bed. You let out a pathetic mewl when he speeds up his actions, licking you like you’re ice cream, your hips occasionally jump when his nose catches your clit. 

You can feel your hole clenching around nothing, needing just a little more to get you there, the dull ache building in your stomach. “M-More, please, I need more,” you cry out. 

He’s more than happy to oblige, the hand that had been spreading your lips moves under his body, you feel a thick finger breach your entrance and it makes your hips jump and stomach clench. The sound of your moans and his dexterous fingers plunging into your drenched cunt fill the room. It makes him groan, the vibrations from it causing you to whimper. 

“Oh p-please, oh god, I’m so close, please Eddie,” you whine, bucking your hips against his face. 

He thrusts his finger in and out before adding another to stretch your tightening hole, you moan at the fit. He nods his head up and down on your pussy, licking messily, then he’s vigorously shaking his head side to side in your folds, slurping your juices up. 

The lewd sound pushes you right to the precipice of your orgasm, “Eddieee!” The squeal you let out has him chuckling, you can’t help but interpret it as condescending and that only makes you clench tightly around his fingers, inching you even closer to your peak.

At the feeling of your walls tightening around his fingers he moves his tongue to make quick, tight circles around your clit causing you to tumble over the edge practically screaming. Seeing stars and desperate for nonstop pressure to work you through your climax, you shove his face against your pussy. You’re pressing hard, in need of all encompassing pleasure, in need of his cock inside your pulsing hole. 

You’re basically grinding your cunt on his face and it has his hips jerking into the bed, wishing he was inside you already. The feel of your velvety walls squeezing his fingers in pulsing intervals has him moaning at the thought of you doing that around his cock. He can’t wait anymore, he pulls his fingers out once you come down from your high, shoving them into his mouth and relishing in the taste of your cum. 

You’re too busy catching your breath, never having experienced such an all-consuming orgasm like that before. You feel like you’re floating when you feel him hover over you again, his hungry eyes looking borderline felonious the way they rove over your face. You look down between your bodies, noticing he’s fully naked now, hard, leaking cock hanging just above where you need him most. 

You nearly gulp at the sight of him, he felt big when you felt him against your leg earlier, but this is a lot. He’s the biggest you’ve ever taken and you’re not sure if you can take him. The way his length bobs when he shuffles forward feels like a threat, you must look concerned because he leans down to give you a chaste kiss. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll make it fit,” he smoothes the hair by your temple, the soft actions and his dirty words make you preen, a whimper leaving your mouth. 

“Do you want me to put on a condom?” He didn’t do it on the off chance that you’d let him inside you raw, the thoughts of you pregnant whispering in his mind. He’s being driven insane by visions of his cum leaking out of your stretched out hole, the sight of you carrying his child, the way he’d take you from the back as your big bump rests on the bed beneath your arched body. 

Your eyes are wide, suddenly feeling like a virgin at the prospect of fitting all of him inside you. You’re certainly not, but he makes you feel so small, so taken care of, you feel like you need him bare inside you. You need to know what it feels like, you’ll worry about the consequences later. Famous last words.

You shake your head, pouting lips parted as you huff, all desperate and needy, your chest moves up and down, coaxing a nip from him. You mewl at the quick attention to your breasts.

He looks up at your face from your chest, “No?” 

He got it the first time when you shook your head, but he’s having so much fun treating you like you’re glass. It's like you're his sweet, innocent baby—his cute little neighbor needing him to talk her through it. You shake your head again, confirming your previous sentiment. 

“You want me to cum inside you, honey?” He coos, he can’t help the way he talks down to you, you make it so easy with your wet, pleading eyes. His question seems to work on you because you whimper, enthusiastically nodding your head, hands needy as you try to pull his body toward your open legs. He lets you pull him closer, but that’s about as much as he lets you do. 

“Wanna feel you- please,” you whine at his resistance to get any closer, your nails dig into his sides as you try to pull him exactly where you need him most.

He chuckles at your pleading, his amusement quickly halts, though, when you reach between your bodies, hand encircling his rock hard cock, guiding it to your hole. He’s quick to grab your hands and pin them above your head, a stern reprimand leaving his lips, “Be good.”

You whimper again, rolling your hips against nothing, searching for release. 

“I choose when I fuck you, got it?”

You nod your head vigorously, eager to please him after getting in trouble. 

“That goes for after this, too, you understand?” He looks into your eyes expectantly, expression firm, his lips remain in a thin line.

“Yes, sir! Please- I’ll be good!” You beg, signing on to be his whenever he needs a release. You’ll be a ready, open hole, with pleasure. The ‘sir’ just slipped out, but you’re glad it did because he seemed to like it. 

“You gonna let me fuck you raw,” your quick nod answering his question, “You want me to breed your tight little pussy, baby?” You let out an uncontrollable moan, you’d be embarrassed at how whorish you sound if you had any shame left.

“Please breed me, I want your cum, sir- please!” You cry out, rolling your hips again, seeking out his waiting cock. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, you’re pleading is breaking him down. He reaches for his cock, leaving both your wrists to remain pinned by his one hand. He guides the ruddy tip to your soaked, pulsing hole, rubbing up and down your slit, gathering all your wetness onto his cock. The movement earns him another moan that would put pornstars to shame, you’re thankful for the small relief it brings the coiling need in your stomach, but you crave more.

“You gonna let me put a baby in you, honey?” 

Forget the fact that you just met him today, you’d sign onto anything he suggested as long as you get to do this with him again, as long as you get to hold him at the end of the day. It doesn’t hurt that these sweet nothings, well- dirty nothings, are feeding every fantasy you had today. Especially the one you had at the sight of him holding the littlest Harrington, the way his tattooed arms held the baby girl. His thick forearm a seat for the little bundle of joy, his large hands softly patting her back as he bounced and rocked her on his chest. 

“Yes, please put a baby in me, Eddie! I need you- I just- please, god, please!” You’re bordering on incoherent at this point, it makes him smile, taking mercy on your fried brain. 

He pushes the fat head of his cock past your entrance, the stretch is so tight you can feel where your walls cling to him once the mushroom tip pops inside you. You cry out at the feeling, desperately refraining from rolling your hips onto him, you don’t want him to take away what little he’s given you. 

“Alright, honey,” he breathes out, trying to pace himself and not blow his huge load inside of you at just the tip, “I’ll give you a baby, but only because you begged for it.” 

The moment the last word leaves his mouth he thrusts all the way into you, knocking the air out of your chest, your loudest moan yet rings out around the room. He groans at the way your gummy walls nearly choke his thick cock, his head falls beside yours as he breathes through the all-consuming feeling. The hand that isn’t holding your wrists trails up the side of your body, groping your tit as he tries to calm down. 

When he’s certain he won’t cum too soon, he starts a bruising pace, muttering out curses at the way your moans sync with the pulsing of your pussy. “Fuck, honey, this the tightest cunt I’ve ever felt.”

You moan at his words, taking it as a compliment, mind reeling at the feel of every ridge, every bump, every throbbing vein of his massive cock. You’re letting out uncontrollable, ‘unh unh unh unh’s at the deep, penetrating thrusts he gives you, lips permanently parted at his intrusion. 

The constant panting and moaning in his ear is pushing him nearly over the edge, he ravenously attacks your neck, tongue gliding over it, biting and kissing the sensitive skin. He knows he’s too close to stop now so he continues his punishing pace, reaching down with his free hand to rub your clit. 

He circles your clit only once before you’re thrown off the edge of your second orgasm, your mouth is uncontrollable, you’re spewing the nastiest shit he’s ever heard and it gets him there. 

“Fuck,” your voice is a high pitched whine, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck meee!”

“Please, god, OH!”

“Cum inside me, breed me, please, sir, please- fuck your fucking cum inside me unhhh!” 

He groans, hips faltering as he jerks forward repeatedly. His stomach is clenching as he spills rope after thick rope of his milky white, hot cum into you. 

You’re breathing hard, trying to catch your breath as he settles on top of you, shivering from the power of his orgasm. He’s never cum that hard before, he feels like his spirit has separated from his body, only vaguely aware of his throbbing cock still inside you. His hand loosens, letting your wrists go, your arms move to wrap him into a warm embrace. You pet his sweaty hair, your other hand lightly scratching his damp back. 

When his spirit floats back down into his body he feels like he’s in heaven, the way you hold him like he’s so delicate, it’s such a contrast to the roles you both fell into earlier. His cock is softening and he can feel it slipping out of your used hole, it makes him gently pull away, allowing his cock to fall out of you fully. You watch him as he looks down at your messy pussy, he smiles at the way your hole clenches, the muscles still working through the power of your orgasm. The intermittent constriction of your walls pushes his cum out of you, he watches as it creeps down to your ass. 

You gasp as you feel him collect his own spend, pushing it back into your quivering hole. When he removes his fingers, they’re covered in a mix between his cum and your juices, you grab his wrist and pull his fingers into your mouth. Moaning at the taste of the spunky combination, you stare him down with the heat of a thousand burning suns in your sultry eyes. 

His mouth falls open as he watches you, his soft cock jumps at the view, in a flash he’s reaching under your ass, propping you up against his thighs. He’s got your hips angled up to the ceiling, you laugh at the sharp movement, loving how he manhandles you. 

“What-”

“I wasn’t kidding before, I’m making this shit stick.” You realize he’s angled you so his cum won’t leave your pussy, it’ll just pool in your hole. He’s hoping to go one for one, but he has no problems trying again. You’re going to have his baby, he’s going to make sure of it. He meant it before, but after seeing you lick the mix of juices off his fingers he’s thinking about where the nearest ring shop is. 

You laugh at the serious look in his eyes, biting your lip as you flirt, “Which one is it? What’s first, a baby or marriage?” You smile at his inability to figure out what he should do first, his words and thoughts contradicting himself throughout the night. 

“Both,” he grins, leaning down to kiss you like it’s the last time. You know it isn’t

A/N: the way they didn’t use protection after Steve told them to, smh. Also, yes, she has his baby, yes, they get married, yes, he’s insatiable, yes, Steve and Robin make fun of him endlessly, yes, he gets called a cradlerobber and other things by them.

Like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed. Comments, especially, encourage me to get nastier wit it.