#could see Eddie as the type that if he’s not too set on you

[thefuseoftemptation]

What type of hugger do you think Eddie is?

Oh, he full on hugs you. Just pulls you into him and holds you. Eddie’s the type to put everything into the hug, he won’t let go until you do and even then he doesn’t feel like pulling back because m’sure he likes and needs it just as much as you.

Expect times where he surges to you suddenly and just pulls you into him—wherever you guys are at. It happens plenty when you guys are together and he hasn’t seen you in a while. And by a while, I mean it could’ve been just a few hours.

“Eddie,” you breathe out. “We just saw the other…” you speak rubbing his back.

“I know.” It’s mumbled but you hear.

Expect too, behind the back hugs. Do it to him and that’s it—he’s gone. He just melts.

(That’s all if he knows you).

But if you guys haven’t known the other for much time, m’sure he’ll still be the type to hug you because whether he knows it or not—he revels the feeling.

Though, there are times where if he’s not expecting it and it suddenly happens—there’s a brief second of him not knowing how to even take to it. Like he’ll just sort of be there with his arms up to the side before he sighs and leans into it. He won’t be sure of himself for a few but he’ll get used it in no time.

. . .

[starryeyedjanai]

Steve and Eddie meet through their local buy-nothing-sell-nothing group when Steve’s getting ready to move in with Robin and he realizes he can't keep everything he owns while trying to merge households with her.

The first time they meet, Steve hadn't even been meaning to actually meet the person picking up the free toaster oven he’s giving away.

He’s setting his toaster oven outside his house on the porch when Eddie hops out of his van to pick it up and it would be rude to duck back inside without saying anything since he obviously sees him coming up, so they make small talk for a minute and Steve has to keep his eyeballs in check because they keep wanting to rake all the way down this guy’s body.

He’s covered in tattoos and so extremely Steve's type, but he knows better than to hit on someone who lives in his neighborhood and is not here for that reason.

He laments to Robin about it the next day, about the hot guy who’s probably using Steve's toaster oven as they speak, who he’ll probably never see again.

Robin rolls her eyes fondly at him and tells him that maybe if he puts more stuff up for grabs on the facebook group, he might see him again, but Steve suspects she just wants him to get rid of more of his stuff so it doesn't overcrowd their new apartment.

The set of items he puts up in the group next is an old blender and a butcher block that has three of the knives missing—seriously where did those knives go? He has yet to find them.

He tries to pretend he isn't secretly hoping Eddie will comment under his post that he wants the items, but he isn't fooling himself when his heart literally skips a beat when the first comment is from Eddie. He messages him and tells him to stop by later that day.

When Eddie shows up, they talk for longer than last time, Eddie asking why Steve needs to get rid of so much stuff and Steve asking why Eddie needs all this stuff—especially considering Steve snooped through the group and saw that Eddie joined over a year ago and hadn't once commented before now (he doesn't mention that thought, but he is thinking it real hard).

Eddie laughs and says he was in the market for a toaster oven when Steve posted one and wouldn't you know it? He also needs a blender—the knife set is just a bonus, he says.

Steve tries not to read too much into it, but his brain is spinning the interaction around in his head for the next week.

He puts up a space heater in the group and within minutes, Eddie has claimed it.

“I should just get your number and text you directly when I find something I want to get rid of next time,” Steve says flippantly when Eddie comes by to grab it that night. “Instead of clogging up the facebook group.”

Eddie smirks at him and steps a little closer. He says, “Maybe you should.”

His neighbor’s car alarm decides to go off right at that moment, ruining the flirty atmosphere with its incessant shrill. They can barely hear each other over the drone of it, so Eddie leaves without giving Steve his number and Steve is left feeling like he keeps having these missed connection moments with Eddie.

In a fit of desperation to see Eddie again, Steve puts up a bunch of random stuff in the group the next day—a shoe rack that’s missing a piece, a step stool, a cheap side table he got from Ikea—and Eddie is still the first person to comment like he’s been refreshing the page, just waiting for Steve to post.

“I left without giving you my number last time and I didn't want to be creepy and message you unprompted,” Eddie says as they load the side table into his van. “I think I was overthinking things and then got kind of spooked.”

“It doesn't look like anything could spook you,” Steve says.

When they get the side table inside the back of the van, Eddie turns to him and admits, “A very pretty boy could.”

Steve can feel his face getting hot. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Why do you think I keep coming here? There's no way a person who’s lived here for as long as I have would need all this stuff.”

“Did you need any of it?” Steve asks in a teasing voice. “Or were you just so blown away by how cute my profile picture is that you just had to meet me?”

“Oh, I needed the toaster oven, but everything after that was just to see you again,” Eddie says before biting his lip.

There’s an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach when Eddie's hand brushes his, when Steve takes Eddie's hand in his and leads him inside his box-filled house.

Later, when they’re making out on Steve's couch—when Steve really should still be packing since he has to move in less than a week—he pulls back to ask, “Wait, so are you gonna put the rest of the stuff you don't need back up for grabs in the group? I feel like that would start so much neighborhood gossip.”

Eddie grins wide and Steve wants to kiss him again, wants to feel his smile against his mouth.

“Oh, we’ll be the talk of the town, baby,” Eddie says, pulling him back in.

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie sighed as he turned to the bartender, “Can I have the cheapest beer you got? But you only let me have one?”

The guy nodded at him, passing one over with a sympathetic smile, “Designated driver?”

“Something like that,” Eddie said, his eyes wandering back to the dance floor. At least the two of them were having fun, giggling and twirling each other around. They were cute together, always were. No one could make Steve smile like Robin could, a fact that Eddie was just going to have to accept.

He sipped his beer as he watched them, smiling to himself a little at how happy they looked. Until someone was tapping on his shoulder. Eddie glanced up, surprised to see a guy standing there. He looked… good. J.Crew-esque with a bright smile.

“You don’t really look like the type to come in here,” He said, taking the bar stool next to him.

Eddie gave him a once over, deciding to be quick about not leading him on. He shrugged,  “I’m not, but the people I love are.”

The guy nodded along, his eyes trailing to the dance floor. Eddie followed the line of it, frowning when he realized he was looking right at Steve. Robin was in the middle of dipping him, both of them laughing. Eddie swallowed as he looked at them, watching the shine of the bright, colorful dance light cross over his face. He looked gorgeous, relaxed and giggly as he went to return the favor to her. Though now that Eddie was looking around he was realized he wasn’t the only one staring.

“Speaking of that,” The guy went on, “What’s the deal with the guy you came in with?”

Eddie’s frown only deepened at the question, “Who, Steve?”

“Is that his name?” The stranger asked, obviously interested. 

At least he had good taste, Eddie had to give him that. Even if the question had his eye twitching, “Yeah, that’s his name.”

"So is he single or is the blonde a permanent fixture?" He asked. 

Eddie snorted, “She’s a permanent fixture, all right. But she’s queer as a three-dollar bill, so not much to worry about there.”

That was the wrong answer if the excited look on his face was any indicator. 

“You know what kind of drink he likes?” He asked, already motioning for the bartender. 

Eddie swallowed, the sick feeling coming back. The worst part is that he could see it. Steve with someone like this. Handsome, self-assured, confident. Actually comfortable in their own skin. He couldn’t help but think they would look good together. 

The thought just wasn’t enough to stop Eddie from blurting, “Of course I do. He’s my boyfriend after all.” 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, why did he just say that? Eddie bit the inside of his cheek at the stupid lie. At how easily it had rolled off his tongue. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, disappointment coloring his voice. 

Eddie had ample time to correct himself, to say my bad. He’s my best friend. That was a slip of the tongue. To say anything else.  

He doesn’t.

No, not when the anxiety he had firmly nestled in the pit of his stomach finally started to soften. Besides, Eddie liked how disheartened he looked. 

He liked it enough to keep lying his ass off. He took another sip of his beer, feigning casual, “Hard to tell since the two of them have been hanging off each other all night. But yeah, he’s mine.”

He hadn’t expected for those words to feel so good.  

The guy sighed, “Well, good for you man. He’s a looker, I doubt I’m the only one who had my eyes on him.”

“He has that effect on people,” Eddie said, his eyes trailing around the room. Watching every face that was looking Steve’s way. He hated it on them just as much as he did on the stranger next to him. 

Fuck it, he was already in this deep. He might as well keep it going.

“Feel free to spread the word,” Eddie added as the guy stepped away, “It will save me some time.”

“Will do,” He sighed again before walking off, setting his sights on someone else. 

The bartender chuckled as he wandered off, clearly eavesdropping in, “You want me to spread the word too? I’ve already got four guys who are looking to buy him a drink when he gets off the floor.”

Eddie was barely surprised. 

“Spread it like wildfire,” He said easily, his eyes going straight back to Steve.

Part of him had expected some guilt when people started looking his way. Whispering to each other while Eddie glared at anyone who even looked like they wanted to get to Steve. He knew he could cut an intimidating figure when he wanted to. The way he dressed usually did most of the heavy lifting, but he didn’t doubt how harshly his expressions were coming off. It also helped that every last guy who came to saddle up to the bartender to try and get a drink going for Steve walked away disappointed once he pointed a thumb towards Eddie’s direction. It definitely earned him a disproportionate tip, despite the fact the Eddie was internally freaking the fuck out.

He didn’t feel guilty, but he felt… possessive. Offended almost that people didn't just assume he was taken. Something that he didn’t know how to rationalize. But that didn’t stop him from trying. 

from the latest chapter of this fic

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! Can I request Eddie x Dustin's cousin and miscommunication trope?

Eddie's seen her only a few times when gave Dustin ride (she'snew in town). And he's really enamored by her so he asks Dustin if he can investigate what's her type.

Dustin tells her that one of his friends thinks she's really cool and wants to ask her out. She asks if it's that cute guy with amazing hair and adorable smile who gives him a ride sometimes. He immediately thinks she means Steve, so he had bad news for Eddie.

He tells him about it and he replays "it's nothing I didn't expect. You should get to know them together. Steve's a good guy".

So one day Dusty bun and reader drives to Family Video and before they're get out of car he says something like "oh, look we're lucky. Steve has a shift today".

She replays "I don't see him, just this guy with big, funny hair"

"What? That's Steve"

"No, you said that this cute guy with pretty curly hair is Steve. You know, with a van"

And then Dustin understands his mistake... Do you think we can get happy end? 🙏🙏🙏

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Wrong name

Eddie had his eyes set on Y/N the second she honked her horn and demanded Dustin move faster. She was blaring music with her windows down. She was gorgeous, naturally and simply. But Eddie was more shy than he liked to admit and was too scared to speak a word in her direction.

A few weeks passed and she continued to pick Dustin up from Hellfire. Eddie loved getting small glances at her but he wanted to know more about her. Scared of rejection, he asked Dustin to poke around and find out her type. Eddie didn't have too high of hopes but he figured he had nothing to lose.

Dustin said goodbye to the group as he got in Y/N's car, Eddie gave him a nod and Dustin smiled back with a wink. Eddie was a little nervous to leave the fate of his love life in Dustin's hands.

Driving home, Dustin tried to think of a sly way to bring Eddie up. But he came up empty and decided to be honest.

"So I have a friend that thinks you are pretty cool, and attractive. He wants to ask you out but is afraid he isn't your type. What would you say your type is?"

Y/N blushed at the idea of someone wanting to ask her out. She only had seen two of Dustin's friends that were age-appropriate, so it slimmed down her guesses.

"Is it that cute guy with gorgeous hair and that dazzling smile that sometimes brings you home from school?" Her voice sounded perky and Dustin could tell she was excited about the idea.

Dustin sighed sadly as she described Steve, he was a little scared to tell Eddie the bad news.

"Steve! You like Steve?"

~~~

"And then she described Steve, I'm sorry man," Dustin said, Eddie shrugged his shoulders and tried not to seem as upset as he was.

"Yeah, I figured she'd like someone like him. He's always complaining about being single so maybe you should set them up."

"Are you sure you are cool with that?" Dustin asked.

Truthfully, Eddie was not. He was more upset about it than he'd like to admit. He never had a conversation with the girl but felt torn apart that he didn't have a shot. He would probably want to poke his eyes out every time Steve made her laugh and kiss her.

"Totally."

~~~

"Your mom said it has to be PG so only look at PG" Y/N demanded as she parked the car. Dustin rolled his eyes as he got out. He looked inside the video store, and aside from the busy amount of customers he noticed Steve at the counter.

"Oh, it's your lucky day! Steve is working." Dustin teased, and Y/N was frantic upon hearing the name.

"You little shit, a little heads up that he works here would have been nice." Y/N groaned as she checked her appearance in her car mirror. She tossed around her hair and searched for lip balm in her purse. She coated her lips as Dustin waited impatiently.

Y/N accepted her appearance was the best she could do, and got out. She walked nervously behind Dustin as they headed into the store. But as she took in the large room, she didn't see Steve anywhere.

"Where is he? I don't see him." She said. Dustin told her he'd set them up since Steve liked her back. She hoped they'd get to talking and maybe he'd ask her out.

She wished she wasn't so nervous to talk to him and did it all the times she saw him while picking up Dustin. But she couldn't, her mouth went numb and all she could do was stare.

"Are you blind? He's right at the counter." Dustin expressed dramatically as he gestured towards the counter.

"I'm not blind. All I see is that tall kid with floppy hair." She crossed her arms as she glared down at the younger boy.

"What? That's Steve!" Dustin was confused and Y/N was too.

"No, you said Steve is that cute guy with gorgeous hair and that dazzling smile that sometimes brings you home from school! He drives the van, and is in your little club." Y/N explained.

Dustin looked between her and Steve a hundred times before his eyes shot open.

"YOU LIKE EDDIE!" Dustin screamed, Y/N covered Dustin's mouth as she blushed. Her eyes were wide in fear as she looked around the store. Dustin unfortunately caught the attention of some people nearby who looked at him displeased.

Y/N removed her hand and Dustin apologized to those nearby.

"I think I created a tiny little problem." Dustin nervously laughed, Y/N glared and his laughter stopped.

"Explain."

"Eddie asked about you and I thought you liked Steve! So I told Eddie you weren't interested and he told me to set you up with Steve. And well, I told Steve I had a cousin who was interested in him...." Dustin trailed off with a big smile.

"Wait so, I like the guy named Eddie, and Eddie wanted to ask me out but he thinks I'm into that kid over there?" Y/N asked, her finger pointing to Steve as he flirted with a customer, horribly.

"Uh yeah! But I can fix this!" Dustin rushed out. "I just need a phone!" He ran to the counter and asked Steve for the work phone. Dustin dialed Eddie's number and waited for him to pick up.

~

"He's on his way so just wait outside," Dustin said, pushing her out the door.

"I don't want to stand outside and look desperate!" Y/N argued.

"But then you have to meet in front of everyone here! That's worse." Dustin fought back. Y/N sighed and agreed.

She waited against her car as she watched every car drive by. She could hear his van before she saw it. Her palms began to sweat, she took a deep breath and pushed off her car as his van pulled next to her.

~

Eddie got more nervous once he saw her. He was thankful it was a misunderstanding and he had a shot. He turned off his van and slipped out. He took a few deep breaths and walked over.

"Eddie right?" Y/N asked, her hand covering her eyes from the bright sun as she looked him up and down. She loved everything she saw. He was in a simple T-shirt, his arm tattoos dark against his pale skin. His signature black jeans are dressed up with chains. She bit her lip as she took in his face, his hair was pulled up into a bun so she could see every detail. His brown eyes shined from the sun as he squinted to look at her.

"Y/N, right?" Eddie replied, a smile on his face as she nodded.

"Sorry about Dustin. I guess that's what I get from letting a freshman set me up." Eddie joked. His heart fluttered as she laughed at his joke.

"Yeah, I think maybe we should call the shots from now on." She joked back.

"Smart girl," he smirked, "well we are at a movie store. What if we find one and maybe you can come to my place?" He walked closer, his arm leaning on the roof of her car as he leaned over her.

She wasn't sure if it was the sun or him that made her break out into a sweat. He angled his head to block the sun, her eyes fully open as she took him in. Now even closer, she already could tell he was a tease.

"Your place already? Is that how fast you move with all the girls?" Her head raised as she challenged him.

"Oh never! Just the ones that don't leave my mind even before I knew her name." He flirted.

"Well since you are so sweet with words, I'd love to watch a movie."

"It's a date, sweetheart." He reached up to softly rub her cheek. She tried to keep her breathing at a normal pace as she leaned into his touch.

~

Steve looked at Dustin as he waited for him to speak, the boy paced back and forth in front of the counter.

"Dude, just tell me!"

"you know that cousin I was gonna set you up with?" Dustin asked, a small apologetic smile on his face.

"Yeah," Steve said

"Wellllllll" Dustin started, he turned around to see Eddie and Y/N very close as they talked in the parking lot. Barely any space between their bodies. Anyone could read their body language and know they were flirting.

"That's her," Dustin said as he pointed.

"The one almost lip-locking with Eddie?" Steve scoffed

"Yeah! So my bad! See you tomorrow." Dustin said as he rushed out of the store.

"HENDERSON!"

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Edit: this tagging system sucks. I just fixed it! Sorry if you weren’t tagged originally!

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multi chapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, (major) use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, general horniness

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour or body shape/type

Word Count: 4.1k

Chapter 3

The heat is unbearable, the kind that provides the motivation not to do anything but lie in bed all day spread out so one could confuse them as a starfish. It’s hot enough the house wide AC feels too weak for a job this tough and needs to call in backup. The fan that stands alone rotating as it blows cold air through your room is nowhere near enough backup. 

Your skin feels sticky, your hair as far away as possible from your sweaty skin as you melt in the sweltering heat. One more than one occasion you’ve scooped under your tits to wipe at the sweat that has pooled there, coming up with miraculously slick hands. 

Fuck it’s too hot for clothes. 

The summer sun has been working late night shifts as of late, staying out until 8 or 9. As much as you revel in the longer daylight hours, today you’ve decided you hate the sun. You check the time, hoping it’s 3 or 4 in the afternoon already, having decided to forego your phone due to its inefficiency from distracting you from the heat and therefore lost track of time. 

It’s only 12:30. 

You swear softly, in a quick decision you can’t stay still anymore and need to go in your stash to fucking relax. You put on a light tank top and short jean shorts, lifting your hair off your sticky neck into a bun as you pocket your phone, some joints and some cash for an ice cream cone. 

Smoke a joint on the way, indulge on some delicious ice cream then stumble back home for what will probably be quality time with your vibrator. Seems like a decent plan.

When you get downstairs Eddie is lounging on the couch with one leg over the armrest, sunken in the corner as he watches the tv with a glazed look in his eyes in a muscle t-shirt and his long locks in a bun. He seems to share the same sentiment that it is too damn hot. His eyes shift to you as you put on your flip flops, sitting up with loud curiosity on his face. 

“I’m going to go for a walk and get some ice cream, it’s too fucking hot,” you tell him, one hand on the scorching door handle. You hiss, shaking it in a jerk move as you glance down at it. “Ow.”

”Yeah, I learned my lesson the hard way,” he observes, stretching as he stands up, his arms over his head as the lift of his shirt reveals a tuft of dark hair. 

You shake yourself out of it, opening the door quickly underneath your shirt before the handle has a chance to burn your skin again and step out into the blistering sun, putting the sunglasses over your eyes as you reach the end of the driveway. Behind you a set of running footsteps startle you, the slapping of sandals on pavement having you turn to face a set of wild curly hair falling out of its ponytail as its owner catches up to you.   

He’s smiling ear to ear, bearing those dazzling dimples when he sees your perplexed face. “A walk for some ice cream sounds really nice, when I thought about it.” You blink up at him, processing his words and distracted by the sheen layer of sweat on his toned arms. It’s a dangerous automatic shut down on your brain. 

Eddie falters, stepping back as you continue staring up at him, jaw slack and speechless. “Unless, you’d prefer to be alone—“ 

You finally snap out of it, almost swinging to grab his hand out of pure reflex. “No, um, it’s just a bit of a walk and I was gonna take my time and uh…smoke for a bit.” God, that sounded terrible.  

His eyes light up, his wild grin back on his face in a flash. “A joint and ice cream? Now that’s a hot day.” He starts putting his hair back into the ponytail, a god damn scrunchie, starting ahead as you stand dumbly on the driveway. ”Now you wouldn’t mind turning this into a blunt rotation would you?” 

Are you kidding me? Like are you actually fucking kidding me? 

“I only got two joints,” you hold them out from the stash in your bra apologetically, as you pretend to hesitate in accepting his offer. 

He yoinks one out of your hand, lighting it in a flash. “Joint’s a joint,” he states, warbled from the blunt in his half open mouth. He closes his eyes as he takes a big inhale, bliss taking over his face as it hits his lungs. “Oh that’s some good shit.” He passes it to you, clearing his throat. “Who’s the dealer these days, because that did not come from a dispensary.”

“How—“ you stop at his raised brow, grinning around the joint as you take your first inhale. God, that hits the spot. “Right. It’s some kid named Mickey. Mickey…Carver, I think.”

Eddie's fingers brush against yours as he takes it back, looking pensive as he breathes it in. “So you’re telling me that Jason Carver's son is the new dealer?” He breathes it out, grinning maniacally. “Fuck, that’s poetic.”

You’re about three doors down already, but you’re already feeling it. Usually you take much more time between inhales, not wanting to be stoned in the convenience store. It’s at least another three blocks away. “Right…I forgot his dad is the mayor. I think he’s like the black sheep of his family.” 

“Oh, sweet justice,” he mutters, yet you find yourself having no interest in the context. “Would your dad happen to know about this little past time of yours?” 

You take another inhale of the joint, absorbing the ache in your lungs for a moment longer than you usually do. “I don’t know if he does.” You shrug, stumbling past one of the sidewalk cracks. “I’m not all that covert about it.”  

“How much he smoked in college, I don’t think he’d care,” Eddie comments, chuckling. 

You stop, staring at Eddie with your mouth half open. Eddie is yanked back, tugged by his hand on your wrist. Huh, when did that get there? “You okay, there, sweetheart?”

You’re so fixated on your dad smoking you don’t even have time to process his use of the nickname. “My dad smokes pot?” 

Eddie bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling shut as he throws his head back. “Your dad has absolutely smoked pot, sweetheart. Only every time he comes to see us in concert.” 

Yet another thing that short circuits your brain, staring at him as if he grew a second head. “When has my dad seen you in concert?” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide, his laughter stopping almost altogether. “Oh shit, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that,” he mutters, seemingly fixated on the bushes right next to the house you’re standing in front of. 

“When does my father come see you in concert?” You glare, stepping forward more into his personal space with your hands arms tightly crossed. 

“Every tour since you were born?” He answers, giving you a weak smile as he grimaces. 

“What!?” You bark, tightening up your crossed arms. “Every concert? You’ve been going on tour consistently for the last 22 years!”

He throws his hands up in surrender, smoke floating up from the last remaining bits of the first joint still between two fingers. He holds it up for you, face just a bit cautious as he says, “You look Iike you need this.”

You yoink it from his fingers, taking a deep enough breath to kill the joint up to the filter. You’re not sure if its the company, the heat, or the weed, but this news really threw you off, and yes, you really needed it. The filter lands on the ground when you flick it, mindlessly pulling out the next joint and your own lighter from your bra.

As the end glows in amber, you take another deep inhale, forgetting Eddie’s still only a few feet away in front of you. You basically accidentally shotgun him. You pass it to him, seemingly completely unfazed by the puff of smoke you just blew in his face. 

You jerk your head, suddenly remembering you’re supposed to be going for a walk. “Walk, we’re supposed to be walking,” you mumble to yourself, stepping away from Eddie as he laughs out a cloud. 

A hand lands on your shoulder, startling you as you continue on the scorching pavement. You haven’t even hit the first crosswalk, yet and you’ve gone all fuzzy. You jerk your head back in surprise, turning your head to look up at him inquisitively. 

“Sweetheart, you’re drifting,” he answers, using his wrist to fix your diagonal gait. “I think you’re very stoned.” 

“It’s possible,” you muse, allowing the overwhelming scent of his cologne to float to the back of your mind. If it was the first thing, it would be the only thing. 

The conversation quiets down for a bit, Eddie still keeping you somewhat steady as he continues to pass you the joint back and forth. 

You’re in the middle of a mental spiral, thoughts coming and going, passing through like thoughts on a road until one particularly flashy thought passes by. “I had no idea he was going to your concerts,” you chirp out of nowhere, waiting for the light to indicate you can cross. 

“To be fair it's not the best place for a kid,” he mutters, trying to make you feel better. 

“‘M not a kid,” you deadpan, smoking a little bit of the last of the second joint. 

“Compared to me, yes.” You glare at him, wanting to wipe off that stupid little smug grin off his face. “Regardless I’m sure your dad just needed some time off. He’s a single father of four kids, for Fuck’s sake.” 

“I didn’t tell him to knock my mom up four times,” you mutter to yourself, earning another scoff from him. 

“Wow, your filter is down, huh?” He chuckles, leading you across the crosswalk and towards the convenience store. “Don’t give your dad a hard time, he’s trying his best.” 

You wanna move on from your dad so you’re no longer feeling guilty as you stare at his toned arms.  Like, right now. Your eyes fiddle around the sidewalk, looking for any suitable topic of conversation. Anything. A chorus of laughter fills the air, your attention snapped to it immediately. As soon as you see the culprits, you blanch in disgust, jerking your attention back as you approach the convenience store entrance. 

“Oh, god, gross,” you groan, stumbling as you push the glass door open. 

Eddie trails a few feet behind you, leaning down as he asks, “Wh-what just happened?” 

The repetitive motion of ice cream scooping hypnotizes you, catching you in a trance until Eddie bumps his hip into yours. “Hmm?” 

“Outside. What was that?” He asks, pointing towards the door. 

Oh, right, that. “Oh, my ex boyfriend,” you explain, wondering if you’re swaying on your feet or if the store just turned into a boat all the sudden. “Two years of my life I’ll never get back.” 

“Which one was he?” He asks, putting one hand on your shoulder to steady you again.  

If he were anyone else, you’d shrug him off, literally and metaphorically, offended at their need to ‘take care of you,’ so to speak. But your lowered inhibitions and inexplicable draw towards him allow the words to free flow out your mouth. “The idiot with the Oakley sunglasses hitting on what is probably the youngest girl he can without getting arrested— ooh they have cookie dough.”

Eddie chuckles, one hand on your shoulder as he pushes you forward. “They called for you about five times now, sweetheart.” 

Oh, oops. 

The teen with braces and her hair in braided pigtails, clearly working as a summer gig, looks annoyed as you stumble forward. “I um, want one scoop of cookie dough and one scoop of cookies n’ cream in a chocolate covered waffle cone, please.” 

As she gets to work, pulling on gloves for what is probably the thousandth time for the day, reaching up for a cone off where they sit stacked Eddie leans in to say, “You know that’ll melt by the time you get home, right?” 

You watch the girl scoop the ice cream, your grin growing wider with each addition of ice cream. “That makes it all the more fun to eat,” you smirk, biting your lip playfully. 

The teen, Emma, you hazily notice from the name tag, holds out the cone with a measly single thin napkin. You have the foresight to understand the single napkin won’t be enough, but not to grab more. 

You dig in humming as the first taste of cookie dough has a perfect little chunk of doughy goodness as Eddie orders a chocolate and vanilla soft serve swirl. 

In mid bite you cough, almost exaggeratedly looking back and forth between your ice cream and the soft serve coming from its machine onto the cone. “What?” He asks, rocking on his heels. 

You take another taste, “Nothing,” taste, “just,” holy shit this is good, “um…”

“Just…?” 

He interrupts a rather delicious lick, eyes closed as you tilt the cone for a better angle. “Wha?” 

“Oh, my god, thank God Steve’s out of town, or he’d kill me,” Eddie chuckles, grabbing the cone from Emma. 

”Why?” You ask, the ice cream remaining on your lips as you take another bite. 

“Because you are outrageously stoned- here you go, sweetheart,” your bottom lip pouts out at the use of the nickname toward the blushing teen, crossing one arm across your stomach as the cash register dings. 

You have half a heart to thank him for paying, glad you wouldn’t have to hand over sweaty underboob cash as you start your way out when you hear your name, vaguely, then loudly. Oh god. You are not prepared to be hounded by—

“Andy!” You grimace, wiping some excess dessert from your jaw. “Hi! You here on break?” 

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes, that same old cocky look smeared on his face. On Eddie it’s charming. On Andy it’s nauseating.  “I dropped out in the first semester. I did not need to stay very long to know I know more than any of those pompous assholes.” 

Hmm. You’re astounded. At his gull and that he knows what pompous means. “Guess all that talk about getting out of Hawkins was just talk,” you mutter, sloppily taking another bite.  

You must’ve mumbled, as Andy leans in like he has no idea what you’ve said. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss, missing Eddie glowering at him over your shoulder. 

“Well, now that you’re in town,” he starts, brazenly grabbing you by the elbow, “what do you say we take some time and uh, revisit old times, yeah?” 

You jerk your elbow away from him, your face squishing up at disgust by his sleazy voice suggesting you lie under him one more time for a rousing, unsatisfying round of mediocrity. “Ew, I’m good.” 

“Now don’t be like that, pretty peach,” you always hated when he called you that, the reminder sending a chill down your spine that had nothing to do with the ice cream itself. “What’s one more night?” 

Only now do you realize he’s only tightened his grip on your elbow, ice cream in your other hand nearly forgotten as the hair on your arms rise. Eddie pops up, the memory of his prescience and the terror that takes over Andy’s face both send a rush of relief right through you. 

“Take your slimy little hand off her, you pathetic little weasel,” Eddie’s voice is rough and assertive, the soft serve ice cream miraculously held stable in his other hand as he starts to bend the arm that was on your elbow unnaturally backwards. “She said ‘ew, no’”

”Ow,” Andy’s once bravado is turned weak, wiggling like a worm on a hook as he cries out his little yelps of pain. “Okay, okay!” 

“If I want unsatisfying and awful sex, I’ll let you know.” Hmm, you glance back down to the cone that melted only the littlest bit, the top layer now softened and flowing down to the chocolate covered crust.You take a bite from the chocolate, the mix of cookie dough flavour with the chocolate exactly what you had in mind the whole walk over. ”Get lost, Andy.” 

You feel Eddie close behind you as the sweltering sun welcomes you, a town wide sauna you don’t think you’d ever be so glad to walk into after being engrossed in a fridge temperature. “God, if never see Andy Lewis again, it’ll still be too soon, fuck that creep.” 

“You dated him? For two years?” Eddie asks incredulously, having already eaten a chunk of his sweet tasty treat. 

“Low self esteem and a parade of gaslighting would have you believe that he was the best boyfriend ever,” you sweetly smile, squinting your eyes as you take yet another bite of the cookie dough starting to blend with cookies n cream. As the blend explodes your taste buds, some trails down your fingers messily in the hot sun, completely rendering your soaked napkin useless.   

His eyebrows furrow, giving you a look of what you assume can only be pity for a girl who thought that was a good boyfriend and had minuscule self worth until some dude in her freshman English class begged to eat her out. You still go to those receipts when you need the confidence boost. 

Unfortunately for you, when you’re stoned and the very idea of sex crosses your mind, it sends you down a spiral. The unsatisfying sex with a gross sweaty Andy isn’t the thing that set it off, but the first time your legs shook certainly turned the faucet on. Next to you, Eddie takes your silence in stride, allowing you to float in your own hazy brain as he works to finish his cold treat before it disappears at the unforgiving hands of the blistering heat. He’s seemingly lost in the taste, the desert already down to the hilt of the cone as his tongue scoops, disappearing as he focuses on the flavour.

The drop of ice cream splashing your toe alerts you of the multiple trails of cream coloured sugar, your ice cream starting to resemble soup. Dammit. You start cleaning up your hand, quickly stroking your tongue down your hand as you attempt to grab control of the situation at hand. Your hand remains sticky as you move on to the ice cream soup that has cultivated in the chocolate shell, no more semblance of where cookies and cream started and cookie dough ended. No matter, guess it’s just a melted milkshake at this point, you shrug, starting to drink, grateful you haven’t eaten much of the cone yet.  

Eddie starts slurping a little louder as he gets to the end of his soft serve, a noise you allow to simply exist in the background like white noise as arousal seemed to steadily pool deep in your gut. At this point you’re not sure if it’s the extra joint or the attraction you know better than to act on but his exuberant wet noises and grunts of satisfaction seem loud, flooding your ears until it’s all you can focus on. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn shorts, the arousal having surely made its way down your thighs and past their frayed edges right below your ass. “You that stoned or did your ex boyfriend just spook ya?” 

You blink back to Eddie, chewing on the last few bites of the chocolate cone. It's sadly not the same without the last little bit of ice cream tucked in. “Hmm?” 

He looks at you pointedly, raising his brow as he starts to brush the hair out of his eyes, fixing the wisps of black bangs. 

“Oh,” you giggle, the sentence finally registering. “I forgot I ran into Andy, honestly. I’m just super stoned and really need to—“ you cut yourself off, swallowing what is suddenly a very hefty case of cotton mouth, “take a shower,” you amend, ignoring Eddie’s intense stare. 

It could’ve been intense, but the more you focus on the ever increasing need for friction, the more you grow increasingly aware of everything he’s doing. 

“I just smoked a lot more and a lot faster than what I’m used to,” you mutter, fidgeting with your bun, at this point a mess of strands. 

Eddie leans in close, using his pointer and middle finger to lift your chin up to face him. He’s much closer than you expect, able to see the finer details on his face even the most HQ photos couldn’t reveal. You blink, suddenly unable to remember the basic function of breathing. 

“Next time don’t push yourself too hard when you know your tolerance isn’t as good as the person you’re smoking with. You could’ve told me.” Strange, he doesn’t sound disappointed, not in you, anyways. Just at your flagrant disregard for your own limits. His voice is smooth, yet demanding, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“O-ok,” you stutter, thinking about the pads of his two fingers against your skin, picturing him taking the pointer and shoving it past your lips. The mental image quakes your knees. God you should’ve known your body would react this extreme to Eddie, weed has always been a catalyst for raging lust. 

Unable to handle the eye contact for much longer, you rip your chin out from his grasp, recognizing the shrub you usually walked past on your way to school.

“I-I really need that shower,” you mutter, walking ahead of him to the long, windy driveway leading up to the Harringtons. Eddie’s flip flops smack against his heels step by step steadily behind you as you open the door, remembering Eddie’s haste as he tried to catch up to you. 

He says nothing as you rush up the stairs, slamming the door behind him as he saunters into the living room to fool around his guitar. 

The blasting air conditioner should be refreshing after spending an hour or so in the hot blazing sun with no water, but it does little to off-set the raging fire coursing through you. Your face feels hot, stretching to scratch an itch you know can only be scratched one way when you're as blitzed as you are. 

It’s one thing to picture him when he’s a million miles away in LA or on covers of magazines, but its another entirely when he’s right downstairs after a walk in during which he defended your honour. 

You switch back to it, his commanding tone and demonstration of strength as he so effortlessly pushed a boy whose name you don’t even want to think about in this cloud of overwhelming desire. You open your eyes, standing in the middle of your room, the weight of your hand trailing over your skin suddenly heavy but doing its job all the same. 

You kick off your sandals, having forgotten to at the front door. The shorts and thong come off as well, having no patience in teasing yourself as you normally do. Your head meets your pillow, legs spread as you start to make yourself comfortable. 

As soon as your core meets the air the stark realization of how wet you are sinks in, the arousal slick down your thighs at this point ready for something more… You feel the sharp exhale deep in your belly, rolling over you in an impatient wave begging for some kind of relief. 

As your fingers start to roll across your clit, you gasp in how wet you are. It usually takes a vibraor and some self teasing to get this far, Jesus. For some reason the fingers aren’t doing enough, whining needing as you attempt to get the friction you so desperately need. 

As two fingers slide through the weeping, begging hole you grind the heel of your hand against your clit, desperately lifting your hips up to meet it. Right now you don’t even have to picture him doing anything particularly dirty like his hips rolling against yours as he fucks into you or his pretty brown eyes peering up from between your legs. 

No.

Just the demonstration of his strength as he so easily yanked the asshole’s arm back and his commanding, harsh tone was doing it for you. His sun-kissed skin, the halo of bright yellow sun surrounding his curls, his toned arms…his lips so close to yours, that was enough to get you halfway there. 

And loud enough for any potential wandering ears. 

-

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She might get juicy next ch

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[steveharringtonat3am]

Rhythmic romance | drummer!steve harrington x reader | 18+

summary: Robin's drummer friend is hot. What else were you supposed to do? [1.8k]

warnings: SMUT 18+, mentions of alcohol, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of birth control

✩┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈✩

You did not want to be at a bar right now. You couldn’t wait to get home, get into bed, and crochet with a sitcom playing in the background until you eventually fell asleep. But it was your best friends’ birthday, so you sucked it up. She insisted on coming to see this band in the sketchiest dive bar you had ever stepped foot in. It was way too crowded and you regret not throwing her a party in your apartment. But from what you can hear, the music is pretty good.

“Here!” Robin hands you a glass of club soda. Being the designated driver was normally fine with you but the pounding music makes you envy her cosmopolitan. She begins pulling you closer to the band and you try to pretend your eardrums aren’t about to burst.

“It’s good!” You nod at her when she looks for your approval. She had mentioned something about knowing the lead singer and the drummer. How? You couldn’t remember the details as they hit a high note louder than you thought possible.

‘Corroded Coffin’ is etched on the front of the drums. It’s actually a pretty cool name. You’re about to ask Robin about it when your eyes drift further and your jaw nearly drops.

Holy shit, the drummer is hot.

So hot, you almost can’t think for a second. He’s sweating from the lights, tanned skin and muscle showing through his white t-shirt that’s almost translucent from the sweat. His gorgeous brown hair is all over the place as he tosses his head back to get some out of his eyes. He’s focused on the beat as his tongue pokes out of his mouth ever so slightly.

You could kill Robin for hiding him from you.

The set feels like it takes forever. Halfway through, Robin tugs you over to a booth where the volume has slightly decreased.

“You said you know the drummer?” You try not to be obvious but she sees right through you.

“You like him, don’t you? He’s a loser you know that right? Like a major loser.” She exaggerates in an obvious way that makes you smile.

“You should have seen this coming. He’s exactly my type.” You grin as you sip your drink and she sighs.

“I know but I hoped you would have higher standards.”

“You do realize he’s your friend right?” That is already a green flag in your mind. No way Robin would be friends with a douche so at the very least he’s nice.

“…Alright fine. Honestly, you two would probably get along well.” She shrugs. Before you can ask much about him though, your eyes lock with his.

“Hey, Rob!” The one with long dark hair greets her as you and the drummer simply look at each other. He’s even prettier up close and you really wanna reach over and fix his hair.

“Hi, Eddie! Hi doofus.” She pushes the drummer on the shoulder and he turns to smile at her.

“Hi, Robin. Did you like the set?” He asks as you pretend your drink is incredibly fascinating.

“Yeah! We both liked it.” She introduces you quickly, putting the name Steve to the face. He reaches out to shake your hand. The contact sends a shiver down your spine but luckily he doesn’t notice. They each slide into the booth, Steve next to you and Eddie next to Robin. You try not to focus too much on his thigh pressed against yours but the warmth of him mixed with his intoxicating cologne is almost too much for you.

The more you get to know Eddie and Steve, the more you understand why Robin was friends with them. Eddie was so funny and nice. Steve was perfect. Kind, has a good sense of humour and is just incredible.

It also helped that he had his hand on your bare thigh.

He had been laughing at something you said, pushing his hair back before letting his hand fall onto your skin, and rubbing it with his thumb. He doesn’t look at you as he does but you swear his smile grows when you tense a bit next to him.

When you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Steve stands to let you out, eyes running over you as you walk past him.

The hallways leading to the bathrooms feel like a different, quieter world so you take a moment to yourself. You liked Steve. But you didn’t even know how he felt about you. And you didn’t want this to be some one-night hookup.

“Hey.” As if you summoned him, Steve is walking up to you. He stops in front of where you’re leaning against the wall, caging you in.

“Hi.” You smile at him and he leans in close. Maybe he’s doing it to hear you better but you like to think it’s just to get closer to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just needed a break from all that, you know?” You fiddle with the hem of your skirt as he nods.

“Course. Though, I gotta say I liked having such a pretty face watching me play. Should come to more shows.” You can’t tell who’s moving, but he’s closer than he was before.

“You gonna give me a reason to?” The teasing smile sends him over the edge as he presses his lips against yours. You melt into it as he steps closer to press you against the wall. His hand cradles the back of your head as the kiss gets sloppier.

“C’mere.” He breaks the kiss for a second to tug you into the unisex bathroom, locking the door and immediately pressing you against it. You grin into the kiss as your fingers slip through his curly brown locks.

“Gonna let me fuck you in this bar? That desperate for me?” He teases in a way that soaks your panties more than you thought possible.

“L-like you don’t want it just as bad.” You pant, already chasing his lips again. He tugs you over to the sink and pushes you up so you’re sitting on the counter. He’s impossibly close now as your skirt rides up. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh but you’re too focused on his wandering hands, going from your hips to your sides to your ass.

The moan that slips out when he squeezes the flesh would be embarrassing if you weren’t so desperate for him. His hands slip to your thighs, rubbing up and down. His fingers brush the edges of the lace and he pulls away from your sloppy makeout to look into your eyes.

“Can I take these off?” His eyes are even prettier clouded with lust. You nod quickly in response and he wastes no time, sliding the fabric down your thighs and pushing it into his pocket. Your comment on that is stifled as he kisses your inner thigh. You spread your legs wider for him and try to ignore the feel of his smirk as his tongue runs up and down your slit.

“Come on Steve!” You whine as you tug his hair. He moans at the feeling and the vibration makes you squirm. Luckily, his grip is iron, so you don’t fall. He continues to lap at you and your orgasm starts to build. Unluckily, this is where he chooses to pull away and stand.

“N-no come on I was close!” You pout at his Cheshire grin.

“I know sweetheart but I need to fuck you. That alright with you?” One look at the bulge in his pants tells you all you need to know.

“Absolutely.” You tug at his belt, undoing it as quickly as possible. He helps with his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. His hard cock springs free to slap his stomach and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

Gods, he’s huge.

“Condom or no?”

“I’m on the pill and…you seem clean.” You can’t think straight at this point. Your pussy aches for him to fuck you.

“I am. M’not gonna say no to fucking you raw. God you look hot.” You could orgasm right there but then he’s stepping closer and pressing his fat tip into you.

“Holy-” You grab onto his arm, pressing your face into his shoulder as he sinks in deeper. He hums in acknowledgement, easing in nice and slow.

By the time he’s balls deep, you might be seeing stars but you’d happily die in this moment.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He mumbles into your ear with a tenderness you don’t expect from a bar fuck. But you suppose Steve wasn’t just any bar fuck.

“Y-yeah. You can move.” You’re pressed together so tight you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

As he starts to fuck you, you press a fist into your mouth to avoid moaning too loud. He quickly ups his pace, pounding into you like there’s no tomorrow. The sound of skin slapping is sinful but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Holy shit Steve just like that!” You moan into him, holding onto his arms for dear life. He’s making such pretty noises.

“Feel so-fuck-so good sweetheart.” He presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, moaning when you clench around him. Both your mouths and chins are covered in saliva but as his thumb runs over your clit, all thoughts go out the window.

“G-god I’m so close Steve.” You’re so close to the edge that it hurts.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He slams into you one more time and you’re seeing stars as pleasure overtakes you. It’s enough to make him cum too, pulling out to paint your thighs with his cum.

You both pant in silence for a second, your head resting against his chest. When you’ve both caught your breath you manage to look at him. He looks as if he’s just come off stage, only less sweaty. You can’t imagine you look any better but the look in his eyes almost convinces you otherwise.

“I-I’ll go out first.” He offers hands quickly fixing your hair into place before stepping away to help you down. Your legs are wobbly but you manage.

“Steve wh-” He cuts you off with a sweet kiss, with none of the lust from before but just as much passion.

“I’ll take you on a proper date soon okay? I promise.” He kisses your cheek once more before slipping out the door. You rest against the cold porcelain as you mull over what just happened.

You’re gonna have to get Robin one hell of a birthday gift.

[alchemistc]

Based on this post by @beefcakekinard because I couldn't flesh it out enough in the tags

read on ao3

could be with you

"Didn't you have a date on Saturday?"

Tommy's eyes dart up. Galway is staring at him, hand on hip, brow raised, and Tommy sighs. "Never said it was a date."

"Yeah, but you had a moony look in your eye. Been a while since I've seen it, but I know your date face."

Tommy does his best to keep things neutral on his face. Clearly that doesn't work, because Galway's expression goes sympathetic immediately.

"Oh, bad date. Damn, Kinard, tough luck."

Tommy's had to get used to the fact that everyone at Harbor always wants in each other's business. It's pretty superficial shit, most of the time, but they always want to know the scoop, anyway.

He feels the flash of disappointment, followed immediately by a lick of defensiveness. Damnit. "Wasn't even a bad date, right up until the end."

Galway looks intrigued, but Tommy's not quite ready to entertain it. He's still stewing, a bit. Annoyed with himself for the way he'd reacted in the moment -- a beat too far because he'd given Evan an easy out and he'd grabbed it and flung it in the opposite direction.

Right, Evan?

God. What a dick thing to say. He'd -- panicked, a little. They both had, in their own ways.

If he'd known, going into it, exactly how new this was to him, maybe he'd have --

Lowered his expectations.

"Wrong place, wrong time," Tommy says, to get Galway off his back about it, and rolls his arms back to tug his flight suit the rest of the way up. And that's the crux of it, really. Tommy's spent too much of his life hiding away, and Evan hadn't even known he had something to hide until -- until what, the moment he realized other people could see them? He hadn't panicked in the moment -- that first moment, Tommy guessed, now that he knew a little more -- when their lips had met. Hadn't panicked in the days between, when the flirting had bordered on ridiculous in their texts back and forth. Hadn't panicked when Tommy picked him up, hand settling at the small of his back to guide him to the passenger side of his truck, or when Tommy complimented his shirt, or on the drive to the restaurant, Tommy nervously tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel while Evan rattled on about beekeeping. They'd both been nervous.

Nerves, he understood. Nerves had settled under his skin the moment he closed the door to Evan's apartment, nerves like he hadn't felt in a good long while because he couldn't remember being so immediately charmed by someone in... a while.

Even through most of the date he'd been able to chalk it up to maybe being in a more public setting than he'd realized. They were both in a field that didn't immediately feel inclusive. Both big, manly looking men, and maybe Evan just hadn't done a lot of that before. Maybe Tommy wasn't his usual type. (Hindsight, as they say.)

He could have rolled with the first date with a dude thing -- awkward as it was, surprising as it was, considering the first time a man had come on to Tommy he'd nearly punched him about it. He'd had to reset some expectations, reevaluate some of his preconceived notions on the fly. That wasn't exactly a deal breaker. He liked Evan. Likes him still, in the light of day with a little time to dig into why exactly it had hurt so much to be sidelined in front of a mutual friend.

And he's still a little embarrassed he'd let it get to him enough to make a snide comment that could have outed him when he was clearly not ready to be out.

But it was one date. A good first date, even, until they'd been a bit blindsided by Eddie Diaz.

Which -- he'd walked himself in circles in his own mind about the Eddie Diaz of it all, anyway, half convinced he was slamming headfirst into the middle of some weird co-parents with benefits scenario. The fishing he'd had to do to even attempt to figure out that situation. He's fairly convinced, at this point, that neither one of them has any hidden latent romantic notions, about the other, but that hadn't really helped the situation, either.

"So no second date in the cards, huh?"

Tommy blinks. Swallows. "Nah," he says, but --

But maybe. If the timing was right.

Christ, Tommy, it was one disappointing date with an admittedly sweet, and kind, and fucking gorgeous guy. A guy with a devastating smile and a wide breadth of useless facts and a great ass and enough heart to fill the Greater Los Angeles area.

The text, later that evening, should surprise him more than it does.

Evan 9:34 PM: Hey, could I give you a call later, if you're not on shift?

Tommy stares at it for ten whole minutes, tucked behind a shelf laden with cleaning supplies while the rest of the crew is huddled around a Kings game in the downtime between calls.

I'm on until 8AM, he shoots back, and then stares at it until he gets a read receipt. Up above Evan's latest text there's a full thread he hadn't had the heart to delete, quite yet, and he can still see the image of the chicken Evan had taken his not great hand at drawing blades on the talons of. Call around half past?

It's a bad idea. He's had worse ones, but.

He gets another read receipt before he can flip away from the conversation, and three little dots that appear and disappear four times before another message pops through.

Evan 9:47 PM: Talk to you in the morning!

And then.

Evan 9:47 PM: Have a good shift. Be safe!

Shit.

--------

He's played out the phone call all the way through about twelve times in his head. Evan's a good guy. Sweet, kind, a little sassy but never mean. He's expecting a thank you, maybe an apology, although he doesn't need it.

He pulls the truck into the closest parking lot when Evan's name flashes across the screen.

"Hey," he says, once he's parked and prepared for the softest let down he's had in years.

"Uh - hey, hi. Hi, Tommy."

Evan Buckley says his name like a benediction. He's never really noticed the way it sounds, until Evan Buckley started saying it. God, this one might sting.

"Hi," he says. They drift into silence.

"Hi. Sorry. Hey. I called you. So. I should. I should say what I wanted to say."

"I'm all ears," Tommy tells him, charmed despite himself, wishing he could see his face.

"I --." The pause is...long. Awkward. Tommy wonders if he's running over a script on his head. "Actually, could we -- do you have any time this morning? Could we talk in person? If -- I mean obviously if you have plans, or, hell, you just got a shift, I'm sure you're tired, we don't have to --."

"I'm about thirty minutes out from home. Let me take a shower, run a few errands. We could meet around noon?" Bad idea. Still. But there's a small, tiny piece of him that thinks Evan might work through his shit at a much quicker speed than Tommy could ever manage. At the very least, he owes it to a younger, angrier Tommy to play this out.

"That -- yeah, that'd be..." He pauses. "You're sure?"

"I'll send you a pin. There's a coffee shop near where I'll be."

"Okay. Okay yeah. I -- just let me know if you're running late, or anything. I'll. I'll be there."

"I'll see you in a few hours, Evan."

"Okay. Yeah. See you in a bit."

Neither one of them hangs up.

Evan's nervous laugh fills the cab, and Tommy presses his head back until he can feel the headrest pressing into his skull. "Bye, Tommy. See you soon."

----

He'd slept where he could, the night before, actually feels pretty well rested, for working an overnight, for spending every free moment wondering what the hell Evan wanted to call him about, for trying real damn hard to temper his fucking expectations. His two wolves are disappointed expectations and romantic notions, constantly warring with each other.

Evan shoots him a text as he's leaving the barber two doors down.

Evan 11:49 AM: Headed out to the patio, see you in a few

Tommy is absolutely not drawing conclusions about him showing up early. None.

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and ducks into the walkway that leads to the courtyard around back.

He'd chosen this place for a few specific reasons -- proximity to his haircut appointment, proximity to Evan's apartment, his knowledge of the lobby of the coffee shop and all it's private little nooks tucked away in corners. Something to ease Evan's mind, a little.

Yet when Tommy finally spots him, he's in the middle of a crowded courtyard, already seated, wearing a light, airy looking polo that stretches tight across his shoulders, and his smile when he spots Tommy burns brighter than the sun on Tommy's newly-shorn scalp.

Tempered expectations.

He doesn't sit, right away. Maybe this had just been an easier way to find each other in the midday crowds. Maybe this conversation won't be long enough to merit sitting.

Evan gestures at the coffee he'd apparently gambled on, and Tommy finds himself sitting before he can talk himself out of it. His posture is a mess, he knows it, but he can't quite help curling in on himself, feeling small as Evan studies him, as the white noise of the people all around them fills his ears. The coffee is terrible. The company is dangerously enchanting.

Evan Buckley goes from zero to sixty in under a second.

-----

Tommy is good at keeping a lid on the part of himself that longs to be romanced, to do some romancing of his own. He's had enough flops to be hyper aware that the reality of dating never follows a soppy script.

Evan says I think that something could be with you and reality takes a rain check, for a minute. Tommy shifts. Tommy flounders. Tommy had prepared for an easy let down, a promise to stay friends and a few awkward encounters in the Diaz living room. Tommy fights the smile, takes a deep breath, admits what he's been trying to deny since he cut things short.

"You already know that I'm interested." It's an easy out -- he's good at catching the ball and tossing it back immediately. It's a risk, but he thinks he and Evan are on the same page about what Tommy's willing to sacrifice, and what he isn't. Evan had made it a point to be out here in the open for this conversation, after all.

Evan takes the shot from half-court.

It catches the rim. Wobbles. Spins.

"Evan," he says, and he means it to sound stern, a hint of incredulity. He's not entirely sure it hits the mark.

And then he's doing that thing he does -- bright-eyed optimism, body language open, a smile curling at his mouth, pressing, pushing, digging into the rocky crevices of Tommy's skepticism and wiping them smooth. It's an insane idea. He's been to...two, three weddings with a date of his own? All long term relationships, because there's something about witnessing eternal vows next to someone that means something to you, something that makes it all a little more real.

But Evan is persistent. And dropping very loaded clues, hinting that he's talked to his sister about him -- them. Tommy doesn't know much, but his relationship with his sister had come up in conversation, he knows they're close. Hinting that he's well aware an invite means he's pulling the lid off 'picking up hot chicks' secrecy.

He doesn't even get all the way through "Are you absolutely sure about this?" before Evan is grinning, leaning in to meet Tommy's gaze, an emphatic confirmation escaping him, and suddenly it's intimate.

Tommy can't think of a reason to say no.

[wheatnoodle]

i love you, evangeline.

part1

-

robin’s been staring at it all night.

eddie munson. their third of a trio bestie they haven’t seen in years. eddie munson is asking about a girl he thinks he doesn’t know. she hasn’t said a word to evie, doesn’t even know how. that’s not something you can just drop into conversation.

“hey that guy you were like gay in love with but never told just asked if you’re single but doesn’t know you’re you, goodnight!” NO!!

so she lays in her full size bed (literally feels like she has so much room compared to her twin bed back in hawkins), contemplating what the good lord above would want her to do. it’s just gone one in the morning when she makes her decision.

robinabucks: hey eds :)) so here’s the thing

robinabucks: yes, she’s single. but,,,i would prefer it if u didn’t reach out to her or anything

robinabucks: ima be honest, idk if she’s ur type n i don’t want her to get excited

seen pops up under her final message only two seconds after it’s sent and she’s slamming her phone down on her mattress.

eddieisdead: robbie!! hey!! :D

eddieisdead: i get what u mean :/ but i also know my type better than u do

eddieisdead: just seeing as like. im me LOL

eddieisdead: gimme a CHANCE bro ill worship the fuckin ground she walks on i swear😭😭

robin can’t stop the little smile quirking the corners of her lips. her evie has been through too much to be treated like anything less than a queen. she knows eddie’s a good guy. but it’s his possible feelings on evie’s…history…that has her placing herself between the two. she knows he’s not homophobic, he tries to set her up with every lesbian he meets, plus he likes kissing boys himself. but they’ve never had the transgender talk. never had the “is a trans woman a woman to you?” talk that has robin building walls before there’s a chance to think of breaking them down.

robinabucks: eddie im serious

robinabucks: i genuinely don’t know if she’s ur type and it could go bad

robinabucks: like bad bad

eddieisdead: so can everything else

robinabucks: eddie

eddieisdead: robin

eddieisdead: i will do the best i can to not hurt her, sergeant🫡

she starts typing a response but watches as his status changes to offline.

dammit munson.

[blushweddinggowns]

“Your boyfriend,” Chirssy sighed as she picked through Nancy’s clothes, “Y’know, Steve?”

Robin blinked at her, “You think I’m dating Steve?”

That was a silly question, “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? You guys are all over each other.”

They were. Piggy back rides, cuddling on the couch together, constantly invading each other’s personal space. The only person worse with Steve was Eddie, but Chrissy figured that just came with being best friends for over a decade. She didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for that, considering her first real friends were barely six months old. 

Chrissy just hadn’t expected Robin to burst out laughing. Hard enough to double over.

Robin wiped at her eyes, barely managing to speak through her own cackles, “That’s-oh my god. How have we fucked up this badly?” 

Chrissy could feel a flush creep up her neck, embarrassment kicking in. She hated when she wasn’t in on the joke. It usually meant that it was actually on her,  “Don't be mean.”

“No!” Robin rushed out to say, effortlessly catching on to the look on Chrissy’s face, “No! I-I don’t mean- you’re not stupid! I am. We are. For… reasons. But we aren’t dating.”

That didn’t make any sense. Unless… was Steve leading her on? Was he the type of guy to do that?

Chrissy raised a brow at her, “So what are you doing? The two of you are attached at the hip. Unless he just drives you around everywhere for fun?”

Chrissy could tell Robin was still trying not to laugh. She was failing at it too, obvious as she hid it behind her hand. 

“Stop laughing at me,” Chrissy grumbled. 

“I’m not! I’m just laughing near you,” Robin said quickly. She turned to Steve, “Hey babe, can you come over here for a second?”

He came trotting right over, leaving Eddie to argue with Nancy in his place. He kind of reminded her of a dog, but in a cute way. Like a golden retriever boyfriend. 

Robin wrapped an arm around his shoulder the second he was within reach. She grinned at him, shaking him the slightest bit, “How would you feel about us going out some time?”

Steve stared at her, obviously confused, “Huh?”

“You, me,” Robin went on, “The whole boyfriend girlfriend shtick. What do you say?”

Chrissy didn’t expect to Steve physically cringe, like the idea completely disgusted him, “Ew, no.”

Robin scoffed but she didn’t look very surprised, “Fucking rude.”

“No!” Steve said, raising his hands to placate, “I don’t mean you’re gross! I mean it would be like banging my sister!”

It was Robin’s turn to cringe, “Dude, ew.”

“See!”

Chrissy didn’t understand what was happening. She stared at them, blurting the question out, “You guys aren’t together?”

Robin did a set of jazz hands, “Nope. Absolutely zero attraction between us. See?”

“But why?” Chrissy asked, looking between the two of them, “You both seem so perfect for each other.”

“Hey Eddie,” Steve called, a weird smile on his face, “What do you think? Are Robin and I perfect for each other?”

Suddenly Robin had that same look, “Yeah. He knows Steve better than anybody. Let's have him weigh in.”

Eddie groaned as he came over, clearly eavesdropping the entire time. He left Nancy to dig around her closet, walking up next to Steve with a sigh, “Are we really doing this? Really?”

Robin gasped, faking a faint, “Are you implying that I’m not good enough for Steve?”

Steve gasped right along with her, joining in with the dramatics while Chrissy was still lost, “I think he might be.”

“As fun as this little game is,” Eddie sighed, “I think we should just tell her. I’m tired of keeping my hands to myself anyway.”

Steve looked at him, head cocked, “You think so?”

“Why not?”

Steve shrugged, his eyes landing back onto Chrissy. His voice dipped down, more serious then before. He was talking like he was speaking to Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t the one he was staring down as he spoke, “It makes sense. I think the chances of it going badly are pretty low. The alternative wouldn’t be very wise.”

Chrissy was reminded, not for the first time, why she thought Steve was the scarier one of the best friend duo. 

But then Eddie was clamping a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he mumbled in his ear, “Put the claws away angel. I highly doubt she's like that. Plus she's been through enough for one day. Don't you think?”

It was actually pretty impressive, how easily a few words had Steve’s face transforming from scarily defensive to pleasantly neutral. It nearly looked like the words made him shiver, “I-you're right. Sorry Chris. I'm just… sensitive about it “

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Chrissy said, completely unable to accept an apology that she didn’t understand, “What is happening?”

And what did Eddie just call him? 

Eddie went on, “Well… we kind of have this thing when we’re in a near death experience. Or at least adjacent to it. Where we, well, kind of let loose? So we might as well warn you about what you’re going to see beforehand.”

Chrissy stared as Steve leaned further into him, nearly too close. No, definitely too close. He was basically nuzzling the side of Eddie’s face as he spoke, “You’re making it sound like we’re going to commit public indecency in front of her. And I’m the one who needs to calm down?”

Chrissy still didn’t get it. But her brain was still trying to work it out, fitting the weird pieces together. The way they were leaning into each other. The fact that Steve, for some bizarre reason didn’t want the best girl in the country, despite the fact that Robin was right there. How Eddie was instantly able to calm him down. 

Angel.

Oh. 

Oh. 

OH. 

“Uh, you okay there Chris?” Eddie asked, watching right at the realization hit her.

She was not okay. Not because of Eddie and Steve, but because this meant Robin was single. And she had been the entire damn time. 

Chrissy shook herself out of the stupid thought, just because she wasn’t taken didn’t mean she had a chance-

“Yeah, we’re kind of the queer trio over here,” Robin added, effortlessly grinding Chrissy’s train of thought back to a halt, “I um, probably should have told you sooner but piggybacking on their coming out seems appropriate.”

Nancy snorted, her outfit choices formalized as she walked over, “If you’re the queer trio what does that make me? The straight fourth wheel?”

They were all talking about it so casually. Like the thing that has plagued Chrissy’s mind for years, filling her with guilt and doubt, didn’t matter. It was normal, it was fine, and Robin liked girls.

She was pretty sure she was going to faint. But before she could her mouth was opening, “That’s- I - Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

Her voice came out more forceful than she expected. Though in her defense, she just found out that she had a real shot with her best friend the same day her life was in danger. She was feeling frazzled, but she corrected herself when she was met with silence, “I-I’m fine with it! Really! I j-just wish I had known.”

Nancy looked at her sympathetically, “Did you have a crush on one of them too? I get it, Steve got me the first time we started getting close. But I promise it’s not that hard to get over it.”

“No!” Chrissy said quickly, again with too much force, “I’m just surprised. T-That’s it. Everything’s fine.”

“Think you got the wrong category there Nance,” Steve mumbled under his breathe, yelping when Robin pinched his arm with a sharp glare. 

“Ignore him,” Robin said with a sad smile, “He doesn’t get everyone doesn’t have the gay gene.”

Chrissy nodded, her eyes trailing the flush that was going up Robin’s neck. Suddenly her mouth felt dry, the urge to correct her coming out full force. She shouldn’t tell them, right? It was wrong, it was bad, it didn't make sense. Because she knew they weren’t wrong. They weren’t bad. And Chrissy was so, so, tired of other people’s words invading her own thoughts. 

Nancy was laying the clothes out, the only one capable of getting everyone back on task, “Since it looks like neither of you were actually looking. I picked these out for you-”

“I have it,” Chrissy blurted out, her eyes still on the clothes on the bed. She refused to look up for any of their reactions, “The um, what you guys were talking about earlier. Me too. And I like the blue skirt.”

Nancy was the only one who didn’t miss a beat, “Ah, so now there’s four. Good for you. And I agree with the skirt, it will make you look a little taller with the heels and the elongation. We can get you to pass for a college student for sure. Robin, what do you think about the pink?”

from the next chapter of this fic

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 32

part 1 | part 31 | ao3

cw: explicit sexual content, smoking

"Holy shit," Steve gasps as he shudders through aftershocks. Holy shit. Holy shit. He's never coming alone again; wonders if he could get away with asking Eddie to record some sort of audio for future use, because- because fuck.

Eddie's incredible. Made him tease himself for what felt like hours — featherlight caresses over his stomach, his hips, his thighs — and when he finally let him come, Steve nearly fucking died. Supernovas in his vision, trumpeting angels in his ears. Alpha and Omega; the beginning and the end type of shit. His heart went all off rhythm, and his entire body shook, and that melted honey feeling crystalized inside his chest; a sugar cube embedded in the center of his heart.

"Holy shit," Eddie echoes on the tail of a breathless laugh. He looks just as fucked out as Steve feels, flushed and fucking gorgeous, and Steve hears him shuffling around behind him; tucking himself back into his shorts, taking off his ruined shirt. He wipes his sticky hands on the fabric then moves to clean Steve up, using his t-shirt as a rag; dragging it over Steve's stomach, his pubes.

Steve giggles. "That tickles!"

"You're welcome," Eddie grins. He tosses the shirt onto the floor, and Steve moves to take his off.

"Here," he offers, "take mine." The thing's rucked up under his armpits, probably a little gross from sweat, but he doesn't want Eddie to be cold, and he especially doesn't want him to get up to find a new one. Feels like he might evaporate if Eddie leaves right now.

Eddie pushes him back down gently, and when he looks at him, it feels... reverent.

Like adoration.

Sugar cubes.

"Nah, Stevie." He bends to kiss his forehead with a wet, playful smack. "You keep it."

Steve settles back between his thighs and peppers kisses over the tattoos he can reach, stopping at one he asked about earlier. The fluffy cloud, the sleeping fox. "Will you tell me about these now?" Another kiss. "If you want."

Eddie sighs and sits up straighter; lights himself a cigarette. He pokes at each tattoo in turn, the skin dimpling under his touch, and says, "Fox, and Skye. My half-siblings."

"You have siblings?"

"Sure do. Four and seven last time I saw ’em. And yes,” he adds with a smirk in his voice, “my mom was a dirty hippie, in case their names didn’t make that abundantly clear.”

Steve laughs under his breath. "I see why you didn't want to talk about that before."

He traces the outline of the art; thinks about all the other stuff he doesn't know about Eddie, about his life outside of school, outside of Hawkins. Startles himself a little with how badly he wants to learn.

“Son of a bitch…” Eddie whispers. He sounds like he’s talking to himself, and when Steve glances up at him, his gaze has drifted to the middle distance, staring somewhere past the mirror and the guitar hung on the wall.

“What is it?” Steve asks. A dark smudge of anxiety cuts through the afterglow. It's probably nothing, but three years of fighting monsters has set him permanently on edge.

“Nothing," Eddie assures, blinking fast to snap himself out of it. "Sorry. I'm just— just realizing they’re both way older now." He licks his upper lip; clucks his tongue. "Jesus. I haven’t seen them since ’79.”

Oh. “How come?” He probably shouldn’t ask. Feels intrusive and rude.

Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. “Oh, you know,” he answers, and his tone is flippant, swooping melody, but Steve can hear the vulnerable quiver lurking just below. The slightest tremor; a flicked bass string. “Pretty classic tale. Mom remarried, I was the moody teenage step-son getting in the way of the guy’s fresh start. Also,” he sucks in another puff of smoke, croaking on the exhale, “turns out hippies can be homophobes, too, so...”

“Wait, seriously?” Steve twists to sit upright, to spring into action, as if he’s about to— what, exactly? Fight the past on Eddie’s behalf? (He’d do it, for the record, but he’s pretty sure it’s not an option. Not unless one of El’s siblings knows how.) "Eddie, that sucks; I'm so sorry."

“Down, boy,” Eddie snorts, voice gone husky from the smoke. "It's fine; it's old news."

He clearly doesn't care to wallow when he just got his rocks off, so Steve eases himself back down; borrows the cigarette. When he hands it back he jokes, "Should I be worried that it’s, like, kinda hot when you talk to me like I'm a dog?”

Eddie hollers out a laugh, his head knocking against the wall, all those wild curls bouncing around his shaking shoulders. "Jesus Christ. You're fucking dangerous," he beams.

Steve smiles back; pokes the comic bubble on Eddie's knee. "You like danger."

"Little shit.” He rolls his eyes and smiles, softer now, biting it back. The cassette reaches its end. A peaceful hush falls over the room. "Yeah. I guess I do."

—

Later, when the moon is high and the weed's all gone and sleep tugs at their eyelids like a needy kid; when they're curled on their sides face-to-face on the bed, Eddie reaches across the gap between them and says, "Stay?"

Steve takes his hand; brushes his lips over bare knuckles. "Kiss me?"

"In the morning," Eddie promises. "If you still mean it, ask me then."

—

part 33

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[trashmouth-richie]

i had a filthy dream last night that inspired this, enjoy

smut, 18+ only; eddie x you steve x you

you were nestled in eddie’s lap, neck full of hickeys and slicked with spit, his curls tickling the tops of your breasts, big hands on the fat of your ass.

steve was behind you, nibbling on skin, his broad nose rubbing against your hair line behind your ear, whispering nothing but filth.

“you ready for him sweet girl?” eddie purred into your neck, locking eyes with steve.

—

it was your first thanksgiving as a couple with eddie, and when the phone rang with a heartbroken steve on the other end, there was no way you could have imagined it would end up like this.

but you graciously opened up your home for the night for steve, filling wine glasses to the brim and making yourself scarce so your bf and his bestfriend could talk out steve’s love life woes.

steve had always been a flirt towards you, a little too friendly kisses on the cheek in greeting that soon led to linger hugs, him pressing your body flush to his.

eddie didn’t mind, almost always encouraging it, always showing you off, look at my girl stevie she’s fucking gorgeous isn’t she? steve would lick his lips with a haunted expression on his face before he excused himself from the room.

after a few bottles of wine and a heart to heart between the two guys, steve sat wide legged on the couch, eyes glazed over in a hooded drunk expression, watching your every move.

after checking on the turkey, and wiping your hands off on the emerald apron wrapped around your waist, steve patted the couch cushion next to him, beckoning you to come and sit down.

he sighs, shifting further into the couch and you pat his leg eyes looking up to him in remorse. nancy was your friend too, and you couldn’t believe she would do that to him.

“you can stay with us as long as you need, you’re always welcome here steve.” eyes brimming with tears as he smiles tiredly down at you, the knit cables on his brown sweater matching his eyes.

he smiles warmly, and looks down to the way your skirt has ridden up on your thighs, the garter set you wore for eddie now on display for anyone to see, and you sheepishly start to yank your skirt down before steve’s warm hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

your heart is in your throat and you absentmindedly lick your lips, looking up at steve through your lashes.

he dips closer to you, nose brushing your own.

“you don’t have to hide those pretty thighs from me, honey.”

your stomach feels like it’s going to bottom out. steve was handsome in a boy next door type of way, you drunkenly admitted that to eddie once and he never let you forget it, not in a mean way, but in a way that made you think given the opportunity, steve could be your third.

but that would never happen. because steve was with nancy. besides the shameless flirting was just playful, harmless. it meant nothing.

his fingers move up your thigh, fingering the lace of the black set on your legs, letting them go with a snap.

“y’know…eddie’s cool with this if you are.”

suddenly your mouth was dry and your pussy was wet.

eddie turned around the corner from the kitchen, a pickle crunched loud between his teeth and he looks at you, a devil smirk on his lips.

“this what you want sweet girl? i think our poor guest deserves some company, don’t you?” another pickle snaps between his teeth, his smile broadens when your thighs push together in a clench.

“think we got our answer munson.”

steve’s nose brushes the underside of your chin, kissing your neck in sweet sweeps of his lips, a tickle of his tongue. his hands grab your hip, pulling you towards him.

it was all moans and smacks of lips against hot flesh, your shirt came off in a flash and your fingers were wrapped in steve’s hair, his lips pressed to yours bruisingly sweet.

eddie stood and watched, coaching steve on the way you liked to be kissed, the right position to get you off, and then he joined in.

it was too much, the familiar touch if eddie and the new sting of steve.

“listen big boy, her pussy is mine, but that ass is all yours.” eddie instructed, having switched positions with steve so you were now straddling his hips.

you moaned into his mouth, barely able to keep yourself still when you heard the zip of steve’s pants coming undone, you had ridden his lap for almost a half hour, your pussy was clenched around his clothed cock and you knew it was big, big as thick as eddie’s but longer.

eddie’s hands spread your ass cheeks wide, and steve spit on your waiting hole.

“i’ll go slow honey, okay?” he murmured kissing your temple.

“she can handle it, this nasty girl loves her ass stuffed, don’t you baby?” eddie grunts, grinding you down into his lap, trying to pull another orgasm for you before steve has is way with you.

the mushroom top of steve’s cock presses heavy on your hole and you’re mewling for him, gasping when he pushes in further, eddie’s hands holding you open and steady for steve’s cock.

“so fuckin’ tight,” steve groans, “goddamn.”

it takes a few mins for you to adjust to his length, but when you finally do, eddie shoves his own cock into your slippery slick and your cock drunk on them both, full to the hilt, nothing but breathy moans and sweat slicked bodies sliding together between the three of you.

they move in tandem, taking it slow at first and then faster, you’re whimpering and moaning, clit red and banded from eddie’s and your fingers. steve’s bite marks on your shoulder.

when they come eddie yells out, and steve practically tears bites a hole through his lip, telling you how you’re so fucking good for them.

when you wake you’re in your own bed, eddie holding you, your forehead pressed into his chest, steve’s lips snug against your back.

it was the happiest thanksgiving you’ve ever had. burnt turkey and all.

s/o to lexapro for the wildest dreams on the planet

[fuctacles]

A tale as old as time

For @subeddieweek Day 7 | M | 2696 | cw: age gap (about 25-30y difference, Eddie's age is not stated, Steve's aligns with canon) | camboy Eddie, transmasc Eddie, kinda sugar daddy Steve?, modern AU, simp Steve, virgin Eddie, chatfic, pre-anything, gray ace Eddie | Ao3 Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Ao3

"Hawkins High '86? How old is this guy?" Eddie asks himself, his eyebrows raised. There is a letterman in front of him, a gift from one of his top subscribers. Hell, his top subscriber. His number-one fan, who was responsible for about half of his revenue.

He's opened a PO box recently, with no little amount of worry about what kind of stuff he might get. He only gave the address to his top subscribers but he knew that the ones with the most money were usually the most unhinged. He went to the post office with his heart in his throat but all he got was a set of lingerie, a toy, and the letterman he was now holding.

He tried not to think about what kind of people would pay for his content. As long as he was making money he didn't care. But now he got a piece of one of them in his hands. Staring back.

1986.

Meaning the guy must be nearing 60. Double Eddie's age. 

He tries to imagine that. An older guy, with wrinkles, maybe a beer belly, a gross old t-shirt, and his hand permanently in his sweats, beating it to his photos. 

It was gross. And in a way, alluring.

Though someone with so much money to spend on a camboy must have a well-paying job. Some rich asshole, exploiting others to do the work for him. That's a more likely scenario. He tries not to think about big, rough hands on him when he puts on the jacket and takes pics for Shar.

He edits them a bit before sending them, knowing the guy will get a kick from seeing him in his jacket. The appeal of wearing your boyfriend's letterman eluded him in high school, but being claimed like that gave him a heady feeling. The fact that the guy could be his father apparently worked for him too. 

He doesn't put his phone away fast enough and sees the message that pops up.

Shar: So hot. You look like every repressed teen jock's dream

Shar: Definitely like mine

Eddie thinks a moment about his response, channeling the persona he takes on for the camera. 

PuppetOfMasters: Would I be your dirty secret?

PuppetOfMasters: Would you fuck me in the locker room behind your girlfriend's back?

Shar: I'd make YOU my girlfriend

Shar: Wait no

Shar: NOT LIKE THAT

Shar: A girlfriend but in a manly way

Eddie snorts.

You're good, he types. I know what you mean, don't worry.

He wouldn't keep around someone who didn't respect him. Besides, he made it clear he's saving for a transition with his Only Fans.

Thank god, Shar types. I respect who you are 

Shar: In fact, I spend so much money on you because of it. 

Eddie rolls onto his other side, his mood souring. One of those trans fetishists, then. That's fine, as long as he's being respectful and paying... Even if it leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth. 

Ah, a connoisseur! Well, I hope I'm your favorite tranny, then, he jokes. He waits for an answer, but it doesn't come for a long while, so he flips his phone screen down and turns away, hoping for sleep.

A response is waiting for him when he wakes up. 

Shar: I guess it sounded that way, but I'm not that kind of pervert. You're the only trans sex worker I follow, but not the only trans person I've sent money to.

Eddie sauntered to the bathroom, not taking his eyes off his phone. He wonders if continuing the conversation is even the right move. He's talked to one too many guys who thought sending him a dick pick was okay after ten minutes of small talk between a content creator and a fan.

But he's kind of curious. When he has money to spare, he sends some change to other trans folks to help out, because he knows how hard it is from his own experience. But why Shar, a seemingly loaded old guy, would spend his money on queers instead of, let's say, starving children?

PuppetOfMasters: So you're just an ally with cash? Or is there more to it? I'm curious.

He goes through his morning routine, washing his face, and brushing his teeth, not expecting Shar to get back to him any time soon. So he's surprised when he picks his phone back up and a response is waiting.

Shar: Long story short, I hope my father is rolling in his grave while I spend his inheritance on people he hated so much.

That's not what Eddie expected at all. 

PuppetOfMasters: So I'm a means of rebellion against your bigoted dead father? I'll take that. I hate rich assholes

Shar: Me too

They don't talk for the whole day after that, but when Eddie's done running errands and editing in the evening, he looks back at the letterman hanging on the door of his wardrobe. 

How is sending me your letterman an act of rebellion? he asks. Because he's a curious little shit. 

The response comes fast like the guy is glued to his Only Fans chat. Gross. Eddie wonders briefly if he's talking with other sex workers there.

Shar: A souvenir of his precious high school fetishized on a queer ssex worker? He'd die if he hadn't already

So it is a fetish thing! Eddie smiles triumphantly at his phone.

Shar: Okay, fine

Shar: Sticking it to my father is just a bonus for you being really hot. 

Shar: And I do love seeing you in my letterman, I've jerked off to it three times already

Shar: is that what you wanted to hear?

Eddie grins, rolling on his bed.

PuppetOfMasters: Yes 

Shar: So yeah, I'm an old man who peaked in high school, laugh it up

PuppetOfMasters: I'd rather you peaked in me

Shar: Insufferable

Shar: Menace

Shar: Yeah, I'd love that. A man can dream, right?

Eddie bites his lip. How far is too far? The guy seems genuine and after the amount of creeps that's been chatting him up, he thinks his creep radar is quite good. Tentatively, he starts typing.

PuppetOfMasters: I don't know. I think people would like seeing me get railed by an older guy

Shar: An old guy, you mean

Shar: You'd make a video with me?

PuppetOfMasters: I record most of the sex I have, yes

Shar: Huh. I've never seen one before, then

PuppetOfMasters: warm, warmer

Shar: ... There aren't any?

PuppetOfMasters: din ding ding! ya boy is a virgin

Shar: shit

Shar: fuck

Shar: that's so hot

Shar: you'd let me?

PuppetOfMasters: Would I let my best-paying subscriber be my first time on camera? Probably

Not necessarily to be released but he couldn't lose the possibility of such golden content in case it was watchable. 

Shar: I'd better keep my spot then. Just in case.

PuppetOfMasters: No worries, you seem the most trustworthy so far anyway.

But as he types it, a new notification appears. Shar sent him a hefty tip on one of his photos.

PuppetOfMasters: That's really not necessary

PuppetOfMasters: But I hope your father is kicking and screaming in his coffin

Shar: I fucking hope so

----

It takes Eddie another day to google Hawkins High's yearbook photos. He'd thought about it before but didn't want to break the bubble of anonymity between himself and his fan. But the thoughts of big hands on his hips, and beard rubbing against his neck, took root in his brain and were tainting his mind.

Not fully in tune with his body and distrustful of others, Eddie has been single for most of his life. And now his stupid horny brain was drooling at the thought of losing his virginity to a grandpa on the internet. 

Hoping it would help his thoughts calm down, he looks through the photos from the year 1986, in search of a Harrington. And he finds him.

Steve Harrington. Basketball captain and swim team co-captain. His hairdo was magnificent and his smile was self-confident. Eddie would hate him in high school. Should probably hate him now. So he expands his search further, beyond the Hawkins High memory lane.

He finds one single photo on a LinkedIn profile. 

The current Steve Harrington's hair is no less magnificent, just peppered with silver. He wears glasses now, which accentuate the line of his jaw and make his neatly trimmed facial hair pop out. He's wearing a yellow jacket and a white golf, which should be hideous but weirdly, works for him. Eddie doesn't get to see his eyes, unfortunately. The photo looks like a candid photo shoot take-out after someone told him a joke. His head is tilted down, eyes scrunched and lips pulled in a smile, as a bubbling laugh got immortalized on camera.

Eddie shouldn't be finding a sixty-year-old man this endearing. 

PuppetOfMasters: I like your LinkedIn photo

PuppetOfMasters: Well, I hope it's you. 

PuppetOfMasters: Steve, right?

He can't forget about this for the whole day, not as he budgets his income, and especially not when he records a short video jerking off in the shower. He tries not to look at his phone but it's his only one, so he does while trying to budget in a second one, just for sex work. Maybe then he wouldn't be feeling so insane about not getting a response from a stranger who is an old pervert spending loads of money on him. 

He tries to be normal when a chat notification finally pops up. 

Shar: If you saw the golf and yellow jacket photo, that's me

Shar: though please don't make me type my full name in here.

no worries, Eddie types back so fast he should be embarrassed. It's a good photo.

Shar: Thanks. My best friend took it 

PuppetOfMasters: Your friend has a good eye

Shar: I'll let her know

Shar: I'm surprised it took you this long to search me up

Eddie's surprised too. Usually, his curiosity would take over him sooner.

PuppetOfMasters: I tried not to pry. But I had to in case we were gonna meet up one day

Shar: So you were serious?

Shar: I've been wondering if you sweet-talk all your followers like that 

PuppetOfMasters: Only the ones that don't send me dick pics

Shar: I knew holding back would pay off

Eddie snorts at his phone. 

Though I might need one before we meet up, he types. Gotta know what I'm working with

Shar: Right. Of course

Shar: So how would that work?

Eddie hasn't thought about it this far.

PuppetOfMasters: I need to read about OF's policy on collabs. Never had to before, since I work solo. Would probably have to hire you, well, sign a commission/gig contract or something like that. So it's all legal and shit.

Shar, Steve, doesn't answer for a long while, and it might be the end of his devirginizing journey. Well, if the guy doesn't want to make this legal, put his name on some paperwork, then he isn't trustworthy, and that's the end of it.

It's half an hour later and Eddie's bitten all his nails off trying not to follow up with any messages and focus on anything else when an answer finally comes.

Shar: Sorry my friend was bothering me

Shar: this sounds more complicated than I anticipated. So I would be like, a co-creator, then?

PuppetOfMasters: Precisely

Shar: Holy shit okay

Shar: Thought I'd be you know, less involved

Though you could hit it and quit it, huh? Eddie scrunched his nose. What was he getting himself into? Gods.

Shar: If that's what you wanted I'd take it

Eddie shouldn't be blushing over this one. It's like he's throwing the man scraps and he's licking them up.

PuppetOfMasters: Simp

Shar: I am what I am

Shar: With that said, I'm willing to make it work. Do all the paperwork you need

PuppetOfMasters: Doing paperwork just to fuck me? so romantic

Shar: I suck at paperwork so my friend would be doing it anyway

Shar: If that's okay

PuppetOfMasters: I think it's best if someone looks it over, yeah

Eddie hesitates for a moment.

PuppetOfMasters: That friend doesn't happen to be your wife?

Fuck no, comes the immediate response

Shar: I'm perpetually single and she's as gay as they come. 

PuppetOfMasters: Good. Wouldn't want to be the other girl

Shar: If I had the chance you'd be the only one

PuppetOfMasters: Jesus.

Eddie squeezes his legs together unconsciously.

PuppetOfMasters: Stop sweet talking me, I've already agreed to fuck

Shar: But we haven't signed anything yet. Even then, I'll keep sweet-talking you. It's what you deserve. 

For the first time, Eddie thinks he might not survive their meeting. And not because of the possible killer scenario. Thankfully, Steve gets back to business talk.

Shar: How would this work, legal stuff aside? Do you script this?

PuppetOfMasters: Do I look like I script shit?

Shar: I'm not the one with Only Fans

PuppetOfMasters: Fair. I think we could just set up cameras and do whatever we feel like. Then decide together if the footage will be released or not. 

Shar: Sounds reasonable

Shar:When would you want to do this?

When?

Eddie hasn't thought that far. In fact, he felt like he hadn't been thinking for the past couple of days. 

I'm the sole god of my schedule so I'm open to anything, he types evasively.

Shar: I have some time off next month, could fly to wherever you need me

Next month seemed close. Extremely close. Or maybe it wasn't? He never worked with anyone before. Hell, he didn't even have that many friends to meet up with. 

Next month works I guess, he answers despite his nerves.

Shar: Wanna face time before we start the legal work?

His nerves escalate, making his mouth dry. He reminds himself he's done this before, he's on camera all the time. 

PuppetOfMasters: Like, right now?

Shar: Yeah?

PuppetOfMasters: Ok, give me five minutes.

Eddie shoots up, checks himself in the mirror, and finds a good angle for his phone to set up. He lowkey hopes Steve picks up with his dick in the frame so Eddie can block him with a clear conscience and forget about the whole thing. When six minutes from his last message pass, he hits 'call'.

"Hi," Eddie squeaks when the video connects. Steve Harrington's arms are in the frame, crossed on the desk, and toned where he's leaning on them.

"Hi," he greets him with a dazzling smile. 

It is the guy from the photo, so at least he's not being catfished. And he has none of the creepy simp energy Eddie feared. He's just... a guy. It's both a relief and a disappointment. 

"Well?" the guy asks.

"Well, what?" Eddie frowns. 

"Are you disappointed? Am I too old?"

Eddie looks at him properly. His hair is lighter on the sides, but not grey yet, and the video quality doesn't make any wrinkles stand out to him. Maybe some worry lines, crow's feet if he squints. He looks like he keeps in shape, too. Eddie wouldn't call him old. Mature, maybe. A DILF slowly transforming into a Silver Fox. 

"You look fine. Good. You look good. Attractive," Eddie fumbles with his words and barely stops himself from facepalming. This is why he mostly texts.

Steve smirks at him. And holy shit, a dude twice his age smirking at him shouldn't be doing things to his body.

"You sure? You're not gonna block me after we hang up, are you?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"I stand by our plans. You're passing my creep radar so far, but uh..." He scratches his cheek nervously. "I'd like to keep in touch in case, you know. A red flag pops up. I hope you get it."

Steve nods, his expression growing serious.

"Absolutely. We're strangers, after all."

"Yeah." Eddie nods, relieved. It would give him ample time and opportunities to back out.

On the screen, Steve leans more on his arms, closer to the camera. 

"So I think dick assessment is next on the checklist?"

Eddie might not even survive video calls with this guy, after all. 

[ghost-proofbaby]

the seasons pass (but you never do) - e.m.

summary: he knew your reputation. he knew you had you way with half of hawkins. it was never going to end well - but that didn't stop him.

warnings: reader is NOT a good person (need to emphasize this), billy hargrove is involved and sort of ooc, smut, oral (fem receiving), a lot of hurt, not a 'happy' ending, reader has severe issues with self-esteem (not in the usual obvious way), very self-sabotaging reader. mentions of reader having adult relationships with multiple male characters. NOT A 'HAPPY' ENDING. minors dni - 18+

pairings: eddie munson x fem!fuckgirl!reader (with mentions of steve x reader, johnathan x reader, and billy x reader.)

wc: 8.4k+

a/n: i cannot emphasize enough - the reader in this fic is very toxic. she is not a good person. this does not end well. also, be wary, as billy is used as the easiest companion who can align with her being a bad person, so she is friends with him. this probably won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it's been a year in the works! thank you to anyone who reads. <3 also, HUGE thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for making that banner for me. i am undeserving of your talents baby.

oh, also, here's a fun playlist to go along with it.

SUMMER, 1988

It was always going to end this way. It’s how it’s supposed to go - you met him, you wanted him, you got him, you left him. There was never any illusions on your part as to what this was. He knew your reputation. He knew the ending. You knew the ending. 

It was always going to end this way. 

There was no amount of flowers he could have got you, no amount of midnight rendezvous to change this course. It never mattered how his laughter wound your chest tight or how his fingers fit a little too perfectly between yours. You didn’t do long-term relationships, and he always asked for too much from you. You could give him a summer, no more and no less. He knew that, you knew that, all your previous flings knew that. There was only one ending ever in sight for the two of you.

So why does it hurt so much when you catch sight of him around town with her? 

Chrissy Cunningham is beautiful. She’s all shades of sunrise pinks, flavors of sweetness that spur stomach aches - the epitome of enchantment and a type of softness you couldn’t compare to. And when you see her arm in arm with him, you can see that beauty of hers painted across him. Her pinks paint roses on his cheeks, her laughter etches dimples into his cheeks you’d only ever seen in the late hours of the night. She makes him happy. She makes him look lovesick. She doesn’t hide him in the darkness, she flaunts him in the light, and he looks devastatingly beautiful without the shadows. 

You should be happy for him. It shouldn’t phase you; you didn’t bat an eyelash when Steve Harrington had taken to dating every other girl in the town after your spring with him. You never winced when Johnathan Byers started dating Nancy Wheeler after a flirtatious fall with you. Billy Hargrove had been on the same page as you, ready to brave a chilling winter with you and accept when the ice melted along with the infatuation, returning your winks when you spotted each other with your newest one night stands in shared bars. 

But Eddie’s summer stuck to your skin. No amount of showers run cold, no amount of new partners who you won’t allow to spend the night, wash you clean of him. The change in the leaves only amplified the ache left in your chest when August turns to September. The flowers weren’t the only things wilting when September flashes into October. 

You miss him terribly, and it’s all your fault.

You let him stick around far longer than you should have. You let his wandering lips slot between yours and you let him sleep at your side from the very first night. When it was all said and done, you were the one that broke every single imaginary rule you had set for yourself, and the blame was yours to carry. Eddie Munson was never going to be a three month memory to wipe away with the steam of your mirror. He’d done it, he’d left his mark. He’d managed to make the streets of Hawkins feel cold and empty in his absence, to make everything dull in comparison to your life before him. 

You empty the last of your glass of wine, all bitter and tinged on your tongue, and chuckle internally as you watch Eddie’s hand’s find Chrissy’s hips from across the bar. Go figure. 

SPRING, 1987

The Hideout was busy as ever, booming with business on a Saturday night as you reentered the scene. Your ‘date’ for the night was still outside the bar, surely not even entertaining the thought of coming back inside. 

He hadn’t taken to you breaking the news that it was over kindly. 

“You never let them down easy, do you?” Billy chuckles as he leans against one of the standing tables near the bar. He had seen the look in your eyes when you dragged the nameless boy out the front door; he’d seen it plenty of times before. Starry eyed boy, ever-fleeting girl. They were fools, and they should have noticed your wandering eyes and lack of commitment from the get-go. 

“Never,” you smirk back as you approach him. The live band had just finished, the music over the speakers nothing compared to the deafening screams of the guitars that had played, “It’s not my fault the boys in this town never learn their lesson.” 

Billy only shrugs and throws back the last of his whiskey, “What did it this time? Did he drop the big L? Maybe he brought you flowers like Harrington did that one time?” 

“Oh, God,” you place a hand over your heart dramatically, “Please don’t remind me. Breaking his heart nearly broke my nonexistent one.” 

“Yeah, right,” Billy cackles, “Still can’t believe you ever gave the sap a chance. Or what about Byers, hm?” 

“Couldn’t break a heart I never had. He always had eyes for Wheeler, that’s what made it fun,” you shrug and grab at a fruity drink that had been abandoned at the table, “To answer your question, he got clingy. All jealous because I was making eyes at the lead singer,” you tip your chin towards the stage that’s now empty and take a sip of the cocktail, “Say, what happened to your date? She looked pretty.” 

“You were making eyes at Munson? Doll, I knew you were getting desperate after me, but him?” Billy cuts himself off with a low whistle. 

“Shut up,” you take another long sip of the drink. It’s sweeter than your preference, but free alcohol is free alcohol, “Tell me what happened to the blonde you were chatting up.” 

“I’m more into redheads.”

“Aw, but it looked like you two were really hitting it off.” 

“I had to have three shots before I could stomach her laughing at my jokes.” 

You reach over to pinch his cheeks, receiving sharp slaps against your wrists.

“Hot,” you coo before leaning back and ending his attack against your hands, “You know, if we both strike out tonight, we could always go home together.” 

“You struck out, the night is still young for me,” Billy grins wickedly and looks around the busy bar for emphasis. 

There’s a small commotion at one of the doors to the side of the stage, and you glance over to catch sight of the band that had been playing exiting. 

The lead singer, Munson as Billy had referred to him, was just as stunning when taken down from his stage pedestal. His hair had been pulled back into a low bun, his torso once exposed on stage now covered in a faded Judas Priest tour shirt, but his Cheshire smile on his face was just as brilliant without the stage lights. Dimples hidden by the dark bar lighting, plush lips and scruff framing his face. 

Billy catches you staring at him.

“Maybe you didn’t strike out,” he hums, “You gonna go for it, hot stuff?” 

You smile in return. Something dangerous, something evil yet inviting, “I might. I do need a new play thing for the summer, after all.” 

“Careful. I’m sure there’s a line of groupies willing to fight you for the Eddie Munson.” 

Billy had been mocking you with a shrill voice, but he had been wrong. 

There was no line of girls for you to compete with as you approached Eddie. And if there was, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. From the moment you had smiled at him, uttering your name into Eddie’s ears over the bass of the music, placing a careful hand on his shoulder and telling him how much you just adored his music, he had been hooked. You had him in your grasp from the start. 

And maybe Billy knew that as he flashed you a sly grin over a redhead’s shoulder as you dragged Eddie behind you later that night, heading for the restrooms that patrons notably didn’t use. 

It was your lipstick smeared over Eddie’s neck that night, it was your name falling from his lips as you pressed him against a stall wall, it was your hair that he tangled his hands in as you sat pretty on your knees before him, it was your nails digging into his jean-clad thighs as he fucked your mouth. No, other girls never would have stood a chance. 

By the end of that night, you hadn’t even cum, but you thought nothing of it, still smug that you’d found yourself a new supposed victim. You’d never considered which one of you truly held the match, which one of you might bleed gasoline rather than crimson blood. 

All that you considered was the fact that you’d wanted Eddie, and you’d got him, just as it always went. 

That was only the first night. 

SUMMER, 1987

You fall for him in the summer. You convince yourself you’re in control still, but it’s fruitless - you’d lost control the moment you’d tasted him on that dizzy spring night rather than waiting for the arrival of summer’s heat. 

“Come over.” 

Two simple words, yet the moment you’d spoken them over the line, Eddie had wasted no time to speed his way across town for your apartment. He was officially at your beck and call. You said the word, and he was at your dispense. 

It was the fastest he’d ever arrived at your doorstep, rapping his knuckles against familiar rosewood and listening to the familiar weight of your footsteps approaching the door. 

“Hey, you,” you sigh softly once you catch sight of him in your porchlight. The creatures of summer buzz as background noise as you drink him in. Same wild curls, same deviant smirk. There looks to be new rips in his black jeans, and his shirt is wrinkled, but none of that shatters the dreamy image of him to you. 

You still want him just as badly as you had the first night. 

“Sorry I took so long,” he teases, leaning into the doorframe you rest your hip against, “Traffic, you know.”

“Oh, of course. It’s just terrible this time of year,” you play along. You both know he’d made the fifteen minute drive in under ten minutes. But there’s something in the warm air, something electric and fluttering and addictive and palpable. You’re sure if you were to rest your hand flirtatiously against his chest as you normally did with your rotation of partners, that he’d burn you. 

Something new. You tell yourself it’s just the excitement of a fresh Summer plaything, and you ignore the voice that whispers with the reminder that this started in the Spring. 

“You gonna let me in?” he nods in the direction of your apartment behind you, bathed in a soft yellow from the dusk and the lamp on the table beside your couch. 

You bring a hand to your chin and tap a finger mockingly, “Hm, I don’t know. Should I?”

“You should,” he leans even closer.

“I might need convincing.” 

His breath washes over your cheek, so gentle you could have mistaken it for the summer breeze. You can smell the spice of his cologne, the stubborn smoke from his last cigarette. It makes your head spin.

“Convincing, you say?” he murmurs as his lips graze your earlobe, “I’ve been known to be convincing.” 

This was something you enjoyed about him. He wasn’t like other boys - he didn’t fall to your feet and praise the ground you stood on, not directly. He didn’t follow you like a lost puppy. He took the time to dance with you, to entertain you with banter and to enrapture you with the chase. Maybe that’s why Spring and Summer felt the same when it came to him. 

“I call bullshit,” you laugh breathlessly as his lips connect with your neck, making a trail of pecks until he reaches the bare skin of your shoulder. “You still haven’t convinced me to listen to Metallica.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” he whispers against your skin as his fingers sneak beneath the strap of your tank top, “Just be patient.”

The pet name strikes a kink in your armor, and in an instant, your hands are on his shoulders and dragging him into the living room, barely remembering to slam the door shut behind him. 

You never let them call you nicknames normally. Billy had been the only exception. 

But when he calls you baby, something blooms in your chest. And it’s vines and thorns alike twist and prick your gut, deflating your better judgment as the two of you are a mess of clumsy limbs that can’t seem to navigate your hallway fast enough. You can’t seem to get him to your bed fast enough. 

“Off,” he demands against your lips when you finally have him sitting on your comforter, thighs straddling his as his hands tug at the tank top’s hem. 

“What happened to patience?” you tease, but you’re already complying, shucking off the fabric and exposing yourself to him. You’d foregone a bra - it was too hot in Hawkins this time of year. 

He doesn’t offer you an answer, hardly taking the time to suck in a deep breath before his mouth wraps around one of your peaked nipples and his large hand spans across your back to press you as close to him as he can get you. You’re already moaning too loudly, sure to receive noise complaints from the neighbors tomorrow. But you’re not thinking about the neighbors or tomorrow, you can only focus on his tongue and lips, working soft magic over your body as he twists the two of you so that he’s hovering over you. 

“Fuck,” you blissfully breathe out, fingertips raking through the roots of his curls. His mouth has moved on to your other breast, leaving blooming petals of bruises in its wake. 

Another thing you’d never allow to happen with any of the other boys. 

No marks. A simple rule. A forgotten rule when it came to Eddie. 

“You like that?” he chuckles as he places a final chaste kiss to your chest, lifting his head and staring up at you with his bambi eyes. He had the kind of eyes you could get lost in, wander and wade through for hours if given the chance. Shadows of brown and honey intertwining, beckoning to you with a promise of the adoration you seeked out. 

You do like that. As a matter of fact, you love it. 

“I like it better when your mouth is busy, rockstar,” you say as if you wouldn’t listen to him talk for hours, as if you hadn’t listened to him speak about nonsense as the time passed the two of you by. 

He takes his cue, and he does as you ask. He traces roadmaps down your stomach, across your thighs and hips, not uttering a single word until he’s pulled away your cotton shorts and lace underwear. 

When he’s face to face with your heat, he finally speaks again. 

“Beautiful.”

It’s just a word. If any of your previous flings had spoken it, you’d smack them away and declare the moment over. In fact, you’d done just that with your autumn boy from last year. You weren’t here to be called beautiful, to be held carefully or to be praised as you let them take you however they pleased. You were here to get one thing and one thing only - your own pleasure. 

Your back still arches when he says the word, your vines still crack your ribs just as they had reacted to the utterance of baby. 

The thorns prickle beneath your skin when he makes you cum with his tongue once, twice, thrice too many times. When he pulls your body to his, when you allow him to forego the protection of a condom and you let him sigh contentedly into your mouth when he slides in, it all pierces you the same. 

And when your voice has grown hoarse from chanting his name and your lips have gone chapped from kissing him desperately, you break your final damning rule.

“Stay with me?” 

The plea comes out soft and heavy as your head rests against his chest. Even with your window open, the night breeze drifting in, the heat is stifling. It’s too warm to stay pressed so closely together, but it doesn’t stop you from clinging your body to his. 

He doesn’t hesitate in his reply, “Of course.” 

The two of you sink further into your sheets and each other. It wasn’t the first time Eddie Munson spent the night in your bed, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. 

AUTUMN, 1987

“You like him more than you liked the others.”

It’s not a question - it’s a fact secured in concrete that falls from Billy’s lips as the two of you lean against the brick exterior of the Hideout. A cigarette is half-gone and held limply between his lips, yours freshly lit and clung to tightly between white knuckles.

“I don’t like him,” you scoff, “He’s a good fuck.” 

You weren’t here on your normal business, scoping for another warm body to join you in your bed for the night. Eddie’s band, Corroded Coffin, was performing one of their weekly shows. 

“Right. A good enough fuck to live to see the fall,” Billy presses, raising his eyebrows at you as he takes another drag and let’s the whisps of white smoke carry off into the cool night. 

You’d just been striking out. That’s what you had told yourself. It was bound to happen eventually; you’d hit a dry streak, and you’d have to eventually find a repeat offender. Eddie was just that for you. Someone easy to fall back on. It didn’t hurt that you also enjoyed his company, especially when he’d swing you around in your kitchen while the two of you made dinner in your apartment or when he’d let you cuddle into his neck during the scary movie marathons you’d began to take part in with Halloween now looming around the corner. 

“I haven’t seen you getting lucky,” you snap, a sudden defensiveness taking over. A lie, of course. You hadn’t frequented the bar enough lately to even know the last time your former fling had gotten laid. 

Billy throws up his hands as he discards the butt of his cigarette, “Hey now, don’t get so feisty, doll. It’s okay to admit you’re going soft.” 

Soft. Soft like Eddie’s hands when he pulled your hips against his night after night. Soft like Eddie’s eyes when he watched you in the shower during the mornings after, quick to swipe away any shampoo that drips down your forehead and dangerously close to your own eyes as you wash your hair. Soft like your voice every time you asked him to stay, over and over, never learning your lesson. 

“I’m not going soft,” is all you say as you put out the cigarette, not even half-finished, and move to go back inside. 

You’re not having this conversation. There’s nothing more to dissect. You weren’t going soft and you couldn’t like Eddie, it wasn’t in your nature. 

It’s a mantra you repeat to yourself as you take in the sight of him still setting up the stage. You catch his eye and he grins at you, and you remind yourself you’re not soft. No, whatever this feeling is, it’s not soft. It is angry and loud, it is demanding and sharp. It is copper on your tongue and it is raging storm clouds in your mind. It is the opposite of everything he has been to you; it is every contrast possible to the way he treats you. 

He treats you like a human being. You’re not a prize, you’re not an idol – you’re just a person, and sometimes, he treats you as if that’s the greatest thing you could possibly be. 

When the show is over and rounds have been bought for the band, he comes home with you. He staggers on his feet and you know he’s had too much whiskey for his own good. Normally, any guy this drunk would be told to piss off.

He’s not any guy. He’s Eddie. 

And so you take his drunken state in strides. You let his body lean into you as you guide him up the steps to your front door, you only smile when he gets handsy, you offer weak laughter at his terrible jokes. 

“You only want me for my body,” he teases you between kisses when you hook your fingers into his jean’s belt loops to keep him close and upright, “Don’t you?” 

This is the part where you tell him yes. You’re supposed to tell him he’s nothing more than a cure for the looming loneliness. 

You shake your head. 

“I’m not, but I can’t ride your personality, can I?” your fingers retract from the loops, and trace their way up his chest, memorizing the muscles beneath the t-shirt. It’s too faded to see the band logo once advertised. 

“You could try,” he sways, and your wandering fingers curl into fists into the cotton material, “P-Probably be pretty hard, though. Just like me.” 

He takes one of your hands and places it over the bulge in his jeans. 

If he were any other guy, you’d play into it, because if he were any other guy, you’d be expecting to get something out of this night for your own selfish needs. 

“Not so fast, rockstar,” you bring your hand back up to his chest as he hiccups, brows furrowed at your subtle rejection, “Let’s get you inside, yeah?” 

It’s an uphill battle of gangly limbs and stumbling steps. He falls against your hallway walls more times than you can count as you guide him to your bedroom and allow him to splay out on the mattress. The laces of his combat boots are impossibly knotted, but you win the war in the end and tug them off of him. He wiggles his toes within his socks, and watches you with half-lidded eyes.

“This is the part where you try to ride my personality, right?” he tempts you, the wiggling in his toes flowing up to his eyebrows, eyes alight with mischief. 

Your hand is gentle as you grab his ankle, exposed from jeans that had ridden up into scrunched material around the bottom of his calf. “Right. Let me get you some water first.” 

You leave him to rush to the kitchen, gathering the glass of water you’d promised along with a bottle of painkillers from your medicine cabinet. For a moment, you take in the silence and lean your palms onto the cold kitchen counter. 

Five months. Two months too long, technically, if you were comparing it all to your track record. He’d seen the eggshell white walls of your apartment more than your own mother, more than your closest friends. At this point, even on your most lonesome nights, you found yourself leaving an Eddie-sized space on the sheets beside you. One of your pillows now permanently smelt like him. There was a mug in your cabinet reserved for him and his ridiculously sweet coffee preference. You’d bought his favorite brand of cigarettes just last week, far stronger than your preferred menthols, and you’d found one of his socks discarded in your dirty laundry. 

No, this wasn’t soft. It couldn’t be.

When you finally return to your room, he’s already asleep. You still leave the water and the pills on the bedside table for the next morning, when he’d need them. You try not to think too hard about the way that even in his drunken slumber, he’s left a perfectly you-sized space beside him, arm thrown out perfectly so that you can curl into him once you’ve brushed your teeth and dressed down into pajamas. 

The last thing you remember before you fall asleep against him is the way your soft hand grazes over his stomach in soothing circles, and the way your brain softly whispers in the hope of his hangover not being too cruel to him come morning light. 

WINTER, 1987

“Eddie! Stop it!” you squeal when he nearly takes you down with him as his back connects with the polished ice beneath the two of you. 

Ice skating wasn’t the best idea for two people who were notoriously uncoordinated. But he’d asked you to come with him, and you’d put up little resistance. 

“Ow, fuck,” he groans, still laying flat on his back with his eyes squeeze shut, legs spread wide as you wobble on your skates, “That fucking hurts.” 

“I bet it does,” you nearly giggle, childish with your rosey cheeks and pink-tipped nose. Your smile is infectious once he opens his eyes and catches sight of you fighting back your laughter.

It was the first time the two of you had ever gone out before dark with each other. Although, you were sure by the time you two had finished your goofing off inside the indoor ice rink, it’d be night. 

“Oh yeah,” he drawls, struggling to lift himself onto his elbows, “Laugh it up, chuckles. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your first fifty falls.”

“Fifty?” you squeak, forcing faux offense, “I only fell twice, thank you very much.”

It takes a bit for him to finally find his footing once more, plenty of hesitant and awkward movements to simply stand up right before you. Once you’re nearly face to face again, he’s pouting. “Kiss it better?” 

Your feet shuffle beneath you, struggling to keep your balance. Your hands fly out and grab onto one of his forearms for balance, “Where’s it hurt?” 

“Right here,” his free hand lifts to point to his lips, accentuating his pout further. 

“Funny,��� you muse, “I don’t recall you falling on your face - this time.” 

He huffs as you begin to lose your balance again, one of your hands slipping down his wrist until your fingers are intertwined to the best of your abilities given the angle. His hand is freezing from the ice. Even despite his teasing, he’s quick to work with you, keeping the two of you standing straight with ever-shuffling feet. 

“Residual pains or whatever they call them,” he waves off, tapping his lips again to make a point. You roll your eyes, but you’re still quick to lean forward and peck him. 

“That’s all?” he whines, already moving in for another kiss. 

Any onlooker would assume it’s a date. But it couldn’t be - you didn’t do dates. It was two friends, two acquaintances really, hanging out for the sake of fun. Just as you fell back on Eddie when your nights grew forlorn, he had seeked you out for comfort on his isolating days. It was just another perk of your arrangement. 

An arrangement that had dragged on for eight long months. 

“You’re greedy,” you mumble against his lips as he tries to deepen the kiss and you deny him. 

“Of course I’m greedy,” he replies, nipping at your bottom lip playfully, “Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?” 

You couldn’t, you really couldn’t. You’d had your fair share of possessive types in the past, the kind that felt the need to always claim you as your own. And you would have found it hot, too, if it didn’t feel like they reduced you down to nothing more than some trophy to parade around town. 

Eddie didn’t do that. He was still greedy, he had still gotten daring with marking you as his own as of late, but he never reduced you. He never forced you to shrivel in size, never tried to compact you into the box he needed you in. He took you as you were. 

You were enough for him. For the first time in a very long time, you were enough.

If you thought about it too long, you would have become dizzy out there on the ice with Eddie. So you don’t think about it. You indulge yourself in banter and echoing laughter, in the scolding looks from nearby parents when one of you makes a crude joke loud enough for their children to hear. You claim your indulging him with the incessant kisses, but you know deep down they’re also for you. To feel his lips on yours. To feel his hands on your hips. To feel his fingers between yours. 

To feel like enough. 

You’re both still giddy when you approach the counter after several hours have passed, dropping your rented skates on the counter as you glance to the arcade filled with patrons. Glowing lights and trilling noises emit from the area, tangling with giggling that you can’t quite place as coming from there or the ice. It’s loud enough that Eddie has to lean in closer to the teenager working the cash register. 

He insisted on paying. You’d tried to fight him on it, but he insisted it was his treat. 

It’s during this momentary separation, in which your worlds’ briefly stop revolving around each other, that you spot him. He must have been here for as long as you and Eddie had been, and you must have just been too wrapped up in enough to have noticed him sooner. 

Just as you see him, he sees you. Just as you prepare to turn on heel, to return to hiding into Eddie’s enough, he’s calling your name. 

It’s loud. It mingles with the sounds already coming from the atmosphere. Eddie doesn’t hear him, but you do. 

“Steve,” you try to greet him with a friendly tone through your clenched teeth, taking a few steps further away from Eddie, away from enough and blissful delusion, “I haven’t seen you in forever.” 

“Yeah,” he looks as if he’s seen a ghost as he approaches you, “Yeah, not since, uh- well, you know.” 

Not since the night you’d officially cut all ties with him, somewhere between Jonathan and Billy. You’d broken his heart. You’d nearly broken your own. 

Your lips are pressed into a tight lip smile as you try to redirect the conversation, “How’ve you been?” 

“Good! I’ve- uh, yeah, good. You?” 

I’ve been on a downward spiral of breaking every single rule that I have spent my entire life curating for my dating life, and I know you’re aware of this by the way you just looked at Eddie over my shoulder, and the way your brow is furrowing, and I get it. I get it. I fucked up. 

“I’ve been alright,” you force your jaw to relax, you force a kind and shy smile. It’s almost akin to the ones you’d originally flash him to get him in your grasp, “How’s Nancy?” 

Nancy Wheeler. After you left Steve the first time, letting whatever situationship that had begun just fizzle out, he’d ran into her arms. From the get go with Jonathan, you’d always known you were a placeholder for her. Even Billy had made a damn pass at her once you guys gave up at spring’s dawn; he’d claimed it might as well be a tradition now, only laughing as Nancy shot him down as expected. 

Nancy Wheeler was everything you weren’t. She could promise these men security, stability, commitment, a future. She didn’t hide them. They weren’t dirty secrets forced to only wander into her arms late at night, they weren’t kicked out at the end of each night once she’d had their way with them. 

Nancy probably never had her way with men, you realized, more likely letting them have their way with her.  

“We broke up,” Again. He forgets to add the again. 

They’d gotten together after that first time, been together while you had fun with Jonathan, broken up the moment you were finished with Jonathan and he could go to where he belonged – with Nancy. 

Of course, when Jonathan chose a different university to go to, somewhere far away from Nancy, those two had broken up. Steve had swooped in again. It was a never ending headache of small town gossip you had grown tired of hearing about. 

“I’m sorry,” you aren’t really, “That’s… forget I’m asked,” you’d feel worse if you hadn’t seen the girl waiting to the side for Steve. His date, no doubt. 

“No worries, it’s been a while since it happened anyways,” he shrugs it off, but you can still see the hurt in his eyes. 

He’d once called you drunkenly, going off on how he was going on all these dates trying to find you or Nancy again, how none of them were you or Nancy. Which, at the time, just irritated you because Steve, why do you still have my number? But now? Now, you almost get it. You almost understand the pain of searching for a familiar face in the eyes of strangers because any time you had gone to your usual haunts these last seven months, you found yourself searching crowds for wild, messy curls and warm brown eyes. For shades of honey and the scent of tobacco drowned out by cheap cologne.

You hadn’t been striking out anymore, the realization hits clear as day. It’s not even that you were being as picky as you normally were – none of the guys were Eddie. None of them had freckles below their right eyes that made your breath catch, none of them had the same calluses along their fingers from years of guitar practice. None of them had the same boyish grin that shone through the dark of your room at two in the morning, leaving you with no choice but to let him stay. They weren’t Eddie.

“You like him more than you liked the others,” Billy’s voice reverberates from the back of your mind. 

The truth seeps into your bones like ash and flames, a fever burning you from the inside out. 

Steve only fans the flames when he nods over your shoulder at Eddie, “So, are you and Munson a thing now?” 

Flames. Hot coals in the back of your throat, lively embers trailing down your spine. You’re watching the entirety of who you had worked so hard to become over the years bursting into flames. 

“What?” you whisper, not realizing Eddie had finished paying behind you, “No. No, we- no. We aren’t anything. We’re just… we’re just friends.” 

Even the word friends whispers away into smoke, choking you up. 

“Friends? Looks like you two were on a date, like he’s your boyfriend or something.” 

“Well, we’re not. He’s not.” 

Steve hardly buys it, but when Eddie joins your side once more, you don’t even offer him a glimmer of a farewell. You grab the wrist of your friend, your not boyfriend, and you high tail out of there. Still choked up, still running, still reeling. 

It’s still light when you leave the building and your hand drops from Eddie’s. You’ll both pretend the cold is from the weather, and not the distance you put between him and yourself. 

And if he heard your conversation with Steve, he doesn’t bring it up. Not that night, at least. 

SPRING, 1988

“I can’t do this anymore.”

You got him in the spring – it makes sense that you lose him in the spring. 

“What do you mean?” you play dumb, painfully coy as you continue to rinse the dishes. Plural. Dishes that the two of you had just dirtied through a painfully tense dinner together. In your apartment, at the counter of your tiny kitchen, knees not even so much as brushing. 

“This,” something has broken inside of him. Snapped, shattered, splintered. “It’s been a year, and I keep telling myself that you’ll come around, but-”

“Come around?” you cut him off with a laugh, one that stabs not only through his chest but your own. A double-edged dagger that has been sharpening itself for a year now, “Come around to what, Eddie?” 

He hadn’t expected the way you lash out, the cold storm that you had been consumed by since the winter night where Steve had looked at you like something had changed in you. As if you had finally gotten better, as if you had had something sour in you all along and Eddie had managed to magically drain you of it.

He couldn’t. He never was going to be able to. 

“Me?” he’s not sure of himself, voice wavering and eyes sparkling as they widen with tears of frustration, “Us? Fuck, I don’t know, but I can’t keep-”

“You thought I would come around to the idea of us?” your voice is cool and collected, nothing like his, as you finally turn around, “What, like we’re dating?” 

You were. A year of this back and forth, and you were too stubborn to just accept it. It was your downfall. It was the bleeding wound for not only yourself, but for Eddie – for this, as he had called it. 

You like him more than you liked the others.

So, are you and Munson a thing now?

A good enough fuck to live to see the fall.

You were never going to be enough for him. In your lifetime, you’d always known what you were good for, and it wasn’t for boys like Eddie Munson. 

“What else do you call this?” he motions vaguely to the dishes, to the fridge that holds his takeout, to the hallway he had tumbled down more times than you could count, “We’re more than just good friends, sweetheart.”

“We both knew what we were getting into.”

“Did we?”

Come over.

I might need convincing.

Stay with me?

You should have been smarter. You should have been more careful. 

It’s a brutal fight, and it’s the everything you had been waiting for. The illusion of softness finally breaks. Whispered words of care have become sharp insults, all the small moments where you had made mistake after mistake with him are now weapons. If the dated walls of your kitchen could speak, the tiles would murmur of all the blood being spelt as brutal defenses are sent back and forth from both sides. 

“I need more.”

“I can’t give you more.”

“You could, you just don’t want to.” 

“What’s the difference, Eddie?”

You were never going to be enough. You should have seen that, clear as daylight from the beginning. You were something rotten from the moment he met you, and he had just been too stupid to recognize all the decay. 

Of course I’m greedy. Can you blame a guy when it comes to you?

Why couldn’t he just accept what you were willing to give? Why did he have to push, to persist, to insist upon you laying more of yourself out for him? You had already dissected yourself beyond repair, made the cuts that would never heal and bared your innards in a way that you never should have to begin with. 

Stay with me?

You wish you were still just lazing in between your sheets with him. A you-shaped space at his side, a pillow on his side of your bed. You wish he had never picked a fight he had every right to rage. You wish, you wish, you wish.

Stay with me?

And then you lose, you lose, you lose. 

“You were just some idiot who thought you could change me,” you seethe at some point, aiming damning arrows for every exposed bone he’d ever given you a glimpse of, “What made you think that? Hm? Was it when I paraded you around the town, calling you my boyfriend? Or was it every time I told you just how much I loved you? Was it when I fell to my knees and kissed the ground you walked on, Eddie? Go ahead. Tell me.”

You were just rubbing salt in the wound at that point. Saying everything he had wished for over the last year, that you never gave him. 

You never called him your boyfriend. You never told him you loved him. You never did, and you never would. 

When it’s all said and done, it’s everything you had expected. A screaming match that the neighbors will complain about the same as they’d complained about every late-night rendezvous between the two of you. An effective cutting of ties that you’d been anticipating for a long twelve months. If it were the movies, maybe the fight would have been more effective. Something that would delve into the lead up of love confessions, an ending where you wind up in his arms and he’s whispering every which way that he still cares for you, even with your teeth bared and your sharpest knives poised. 

It’s not a movie. It’s everything you expected. 

But you hadn’t been prepared for the ache. When your own vicious words left a taste of ash on the tongue, when his eyes flashing with something harsher and less caring for you left a hollow ache that rang in your ears longer than his voice did. You didn’t think that you’d feel the cutting of ties. Every nerve ending in your body feels that jagged edge that saws through all that you two had tried to build over the last year, but it’s far too little and far too late. The foundation was cracked – you were damaged. 

You lose him. The world doesn’t end; the night carries on even as he grabs his leather jacket and leaves behind the sock in your dirty laundry. And when he exits out your front door, hiding away any tears that might have slipped free, just as you were, you feel that unexpected whisper inside of you. 

Stay with me?

You sleep alone that night. For once, the smell of tobacco and his shampoo makes you throw the pillow that was once his across the room. 

SUMMER, 1988

She deserves him.

Chrissy Cunningham deserved Eddie Munson far more than you ever had. She was enough. 

Summer can stain, but it can’t erase. Even in the months of aftermath, even for every tear shed in private and wave of yearning that would drown you in the dead of night, you never changed. It had hardly taken weeks after Eddie had walked out of your life for you to return to your old ways, going back to the bars and seeking out the latest warm blood to lose yourself in that night.

It didn’t matter that you compared each and every single smile to Eddie’s. It didn’t matter that you’d have to grip your sheets until your knuckles turned bloody to avoid touching the strangers hovering over you, hoping to feel familiar skin and a comfort long lost instead of whatever poor soul you’d dragged home with you. 

He deserves a love full of life. A love that breathes him in and doesn’t drain him. One that could let him feel the sun on his skin rather than hiding him away in the night.

A love that doesn’t tick away each passing season, because it’s a love that doesn’t have a ticking time bomb attached to it. 

“Never thought I’d see the day Cunningham got her claws in Munson,” Billy mumbles around a cigarette at your side. 

He didn’t tease about Eddie those first few months. One look at you, and he had known. 

“She didn’t get her claws in him,” you say, monotonous as you reach for your drink once more, “I’m happy for him. They look happy.”

They do. They really, really do. A love that burns like summer, and has never been touched by a dying autumn or cruel winter. The type of happiness Eddie would have never been able to find from you, try as he had. 

Billy taps some of his ash into the tray at the center of your shared table. Surely, he had better things to do, but he stays. It was probably entertaining, watching you pine and regret for once in your life, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“Their’s don’t. I bet you that there’s a ring on her finger before next summer.”

You don’t want to imagine the pain that would ignite in you. That’s the type of emotion that would far surpass any regret you currently feel. But you seem to enjoy torturing yourself, eyes still zeroing in on her left hand, as if you already see the glint of whatever diamond Eddie would seek out for his worthy lover. 

“And I bet if that happens, you skip town within twenty four hours of finding out.” 

He’s right. Nothing was truly tying you to this sleepy town, and the reminder of your worst mistake, your most terrible slip up of all time, would easily send you running with your tail between your legs. 

“Probably,” you sigh, no longer putting up a front. You hadn’t even tried batting your lashes at a single man since Eddie and Chrissy had arrived at the bar. You were striking out tonight, on your own volition, “Maybe I’d move to California. I hear the men there are easy enough.” 

“They are,” Billy laughs, throwing his head back. It’s enough to garner attention across the bar, numerous girls being enticed as if he might be a siren beckoning to them, “Take it from one. The girls on the west coast are prettier, though, so you can’t blame ‘em.”

The girls on the west coast probably resemble Chrissy. Golden skin, golden auras, golden light. Honeyed words and the sweetest of blushes across coy cheeks. They probably embody every sunset and sunrise simultaneously, and you can only stand there green with envy.

“You are awfully easy,” is all you can offer in reply. The banter has started to fall flat since Eddie. You’re no fun – hardly taking any bait that Billy will hand over so generously. 

Maybe, if you had tried a little harder, you could have been one of those girls. Clear blue skies, not a sight of the storm clouds that you still let consume you. 

Maybe Eddie would have stayed if you had tried a little harder. 

There’s no real hope for it now. You’re left to being nothing more than a conglomeration of pathetic pity parties and the taste of cheap beer these days, hardly worth the chase once the boys get close enough to see the rot. You’ve stopped trying so hard to cover it up; you’d ripped yourself open for Eddie, and had never found a way to properly suture yourself back together so that anyone new might not get a glimpse of all the bad. They could spot it from a mile away these days. 

It doesn’t help that you no longer try to cover it all up with overly sweet perfumes or sickly sweet pickup lines.

Billy’s laughter didn’t just draw the attention of the girls around the bars. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see a pair of whiskey eyes find the two of you, locking on you far too easily to have not known. 

You notice, because of course you notice him. But when Billy notices, it catches you a bit more off guard. 

“Like I said,” he drawls, and you nearly panic when he grabs his drink off to leave you behind, “Looks can be deceiving, hot stuff.”

Your eyes find Eddie’s quickly, not listening to a word that Billy is saying. Chrissy is saying something, something surely important, but her boy isn’t listening. Her boy, her conduit for all her sunshine, is staring right at you and has no plans on looking away any time soon. 

He’s seen the rot up close and personal. He’s the one who’d handed the treacherous scalpel over to your shaking hands, encouraging you to open up in all the ways you never wished to. 

You shouldn’t do it. You’ll regret it. You really shouldn’t do this.

“They never learn their lesson, do they?” 

You don’t know who Billy is talking about.

Eddie, who almost seems to be under your spell, taking a slow slip of his neat whiskey, staring you down as if he’s brimming with bad ideas that he hopes you can hear from across the room. 

Or you, who should know better. You hurt him, you broke his heart, you don’t deserve him. And yet, you’re selfish as ever, mind reeling with possibilities of how you wish the night would end.

You can hear the bad ideas. Clear as day. Especially when Eddie only breaks eye contact long enough to lean in to Chrissy and whisper something that effectively dismisses her, leaving Eddie all alone and in your gaze. 

“They don’t,” you say, throwing back the last of your drink.

You know where he’s heading. And you know where you’re heading. A moth to his flame, going only where he will allow you. You’re a ghost of the menace you once were. The other men, the other bodies that kept you warm these nights; none of them were him. You didn’t want them. You weren’t soft with them. They never stayed, because you never asked them to. There was only one man in this bar, in this entire damn bar, that would ever fill the hole left behind in you after Eddie’s summer. Eddie’s spring, Eddie’s autumn, Eddie’s winter. 

And he was walking outside the bar, almost tauntingly as he sauntered through the doors, beckoning you with each and every step. 

Perhaps this time, Eddie’s the one who needs a summer plaything. 

“This isn’t going to end well,” Billy taunts you as he takes a few steps back, knowing damn well as to what was about to happen. Bad ideas, downright terrible ideas. 

Eddie is playing the same game as you were once a master in. It dawns on you; Chrissy Cunningham wasn’t his newest love. She wasn’t his sweetest sunrise or gentle spring. She was a passing wind, just like all the boys you’d enticed before him. She’s already moved along, pretty hand resting on the shoulder of a new beau and not even paying any mind to Eddie’s absence. She may deserve him, but she doesn’t have him.

Nor do you. The roles have been switched, and you should know better. He’s leading you to an inevitable death, whether it be a little one or something of catastrophic value. He is leading you right into your own demise. Just as you used to do with every new victim you’d set your mark on before him, before your summer, before it all. 

All your old tricks, turned to weapons against you.

And you’ll let him. A moth to his flame. A dog at his window sill. 

“It never does.” 

Stay with me? 

Maybe, this time, you’ll be the one staying. If only for the night, and if only for Eddie.

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[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | p. 2

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

Sep. 1974

It’s as if you’re already going off to college. Dropping her baby off for the first day of first grade gives your mom crippling worry. She tugs at the fabric of your frilly pink top that she was gifted while you were still in her belly.

There is a part of her that always wants you by her side. She can’t let go of when you were a brand new babe. You and her did everything together. She still sits in the back with the other parents, while you practice at your etiquette classes on Saturdays.

If you could tell her how ridiculous they are without shattering her spirit, you would without a second thought. Who knew there were so many different types of spoons? Or that walking with your shoulders up is aggressive and unladylike?

You have much more fun when you’re digging for worms with Eddie and racing him around the trailer because you’re faster than him even on such short legs.

A set of footsteps approach from behind where you stand at the front of the school. It tears your mom up, but she’s got to stop picking at your clothes and slicking down loose pieces of hair. You’re clean, you’ve been fed a full meal and you have your lunch pale. Oh - she twists your arm. Lunch pale? Where’s your- the pink strap drops from her shoulder.

“Here, baby,” she might lose her head if she isn't careful. Handing over your lunch pale, she loops the strap over your shoulder and secures it with a tight tug. “You ready?”

Wayne’s giving a lecture to Eddie about responsibility, and he’s hoping that whatever Eddie is staring at behind him isn’t too interesting and that he’s actually listening to what his uncle is saying. Alas, there’s only so much he can do.

“You take her hand and you walk her straight to her classroom. Eddie,” Wayne’s warning straightens Eddie out, “make sure the teacher sees her. Okay?”

“I got it,” Eddie kicks the gravel under him. “Can I go now?”

“Hug,” it isn’t a question and Wayne sneaks a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head.

Meanwhile, your mom is suffocating you into an endless hug. She holds back her tears as best as she can, but her sniffling gives away the secret.

When she’s ready, you turn away from her. Your backpack is half of your size. Silly little doodles and sparkles scream out across the fabric.

Eddie holds out his hand, and you gladly wrap your fingers around his. The two of you are sucked into the swarm of kids entering the school building, and your mom will stand there until she absolutely is sure that pink glittery bag is gone.

“Do you think it ever gets easier?” She toys with the necklace around her neck.

Wayne wipes her eye, “no, I suppose not.”

“Do you want to get a bite to eat before I head off to work?” Your mom offers. “I’ll pay.”

“I’ll pay,” Wayne shakes his head. “I’ll meet you at the diner around the corner.”

The crowd tightens inside the school, where you’re hardly able to move around the sea of kids. Parents hang around outside of the classrooms waving goodbye to their children.

You’re hardly sure of yourself. The school is still new under your feet. Tile slips beneath you. Everything smells fresh inside. It’s clean. You’re a fan of clean.

Eddie keeps to his word and even tightens his grip when you’re about to be separated by a bigger guy. Fifth graders. They’re all that once they’re at the top of the food chain. Compared to scrawny you, you’re like a minnow in a sea of swordfish.

You near an open classroom where the orange candy colored door has a number one stuck onto a bright orange sun. There’s a few smiley face stickers dancing down the door frame.

A friendly face greets you at the door. Her hair is like the maple syrup you drown your pancakes in. Skin like soap. And, you think she smells like mint.

“Good morning, Eddie!” Her cherry cheeks pinch upwards. “Are you helping your friend to class? That’s very sweet of you!”

Eddie was enrolled in her first grade class a few years ago. Mrs. Clark is one of the kindest ladies that he ever met. They had fun guessing colors and counting numbers together. Sometimes she would give them funny little rewards like candy or cool shiny pencils.

Mr. Brown, Eddie’s new third grade teacher, will surely not do that. The man is about as interesting as a plank of wood. Still, he should try to learn something. Maybe he can finally master cursive writing. That would be a neat trick.

You spin around when Mrs Clark ushers you forward. Brows furrowed into the center of your forehead, Eddie drops your hand and sends you on your way with a wave.

“I’ll see you at recess,” he reassures you.

“Okay,” you swallow those nerves. “Bye, Eddie.”

There’s a hum that separates the classroom from the hallway. Chaos consumes outside the room, but inside is much calmer and quieter. Encouraging posters flash at you from the walls. An alphabet stretches across two corners or the walls at the tippy top. You know your alphabet like you know your numbers because your mom wouldn’t let you rest all summer. She insisted you must know them, before you get into class.

“Do you see your name on the front of any of these desks?” Mrs. Clark encourages your independence.

Weaving between the rows of desk, you do find your name plastered largely on a piece of construction paper that sits atop your desk. You hang your backpack over the back of the desk, before sliding into your chair.

“You can color your name tag if you would like,” she encourages, “you can use your crayons or there’s a big bucket we share over there.”

There’s a whole wall of construction paper, crayons, markers and art supplies that you could choose from. You’re going to enjoy this class a lot. You just know it.

Mrs. Clark leaves you to return to the hallway, while waiting for a few more kids. That cookie cutter grin never leaves her face.

Your mom told you that everything you need is inside that backpack. Unzipping the biggest pocket, you find a purple pencil case. It still has that zesty waxy smell from last year. You go ahead and drop the case onto your desk, before popping the lid open.

“Hi,” pops out a young brunette girl about your height and weight. She’s got on overalls that are one size too big, and she’s missing a tooth in the front of her face.

“Hi,” you smile with all of your teeth.

“Can I borrow some of these?” Her eyes go wide with interest at the particularly pretty pink crayon you have in that box.

You are ready to tell her that there’s a shareable box on the countertop that’s already being picked through by several of your classmates, but before you get the chance, she’s already taken a couple of your crayons. Scrunching your brows into a tight knot, you let the interaction go for now. Your mom’s voice rings in your ears to share with the other kids.

It’s not your favorite thing to do, and your mom chops that up to not having a sibling. Mom says you won’t get one, even though you really want one. Apparently it’s too difficult to get a sibling these days, they’re really expensive. You’ve never seen a store in the mall that sells siblings, but your mom has never been one to lie to you.

They must be rare.

The crayon thief sits right across from you, so you can keep an eye on her. Tongue stuck out from focusing too hard on whatever she’s coloring, you peak over to see. She’s got a cool fish doodled on the right side of the construction paper. The pink is being used roughly to draw some scales across his back.

“That’s cool,” you pipe up.

She finishes the scales, before she speaks to you again, “thanks! Yours is cool too!”

You spent a couple moments drawing lines and shapes across the piece of construction paper in all different colors.

“Thanks!” You say, “What’s your name?”

Lifting the piece of construction paper out in front of her with such theatrics, she traces her name across the paper.

“Robin,” she points. “Yours?”

In a swift motion, you’re also holding up the construction paper so she can read your name off. She nods in acknowledgment, and hands off your pink crayon. Bye, not without sneaking the orange one to scribble a few more scales.

“We should eat lunch together,” Robin decides in that moment. “I don’t have many friends, but I think you’re going to be one of them.”

Your face flushes, “Okay, Robin.”

The moment of chatter has passed, as soon as Mrs. Clark comes into the room with an agenda. She begins by writing her name out in big letters across the chalkboard and then telling you guys something interesting about herself. She has a big dog named Fluffy.

You want a dog, but your mom does not. She tells you that you’re enough responsibility. Dogs are messy.

You never get what you want.

Most of the morning time goes without a hiccup. You’re spelling new words, and your teacher even gives you a list to share with your mom. There’s also something called ‘adding’ and ‘subtracting.’ You haven’t quite gotten the hang of that yet. But, your new friend Robin understands. Her hand shoots up faster than anyone else in class.

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re all told to stand in a straight line at the front of the classroom. Mrs. Clark is leader. You stand with Robin somewhere in the middle, and await your turn to walk. Clutching your lunch bag, you’re excited to share what you have with Robin. She didn’t come with a lunch today, but rather a few dollars to pay for food.

The cafeteria is quite a ways down the hall. You pass by other classrooms that are also ready for lunch. Maybe you’ll find more friends from those classes. Where is Eddie?

When you get into the lunch room, the cafeteria is nearly bare. The children who have a lunch are instructed to sit at a table and to eat what they came with. You’re sitting down amongst a small group of girls that hardly pay attention to you. Their pretty bows wrapped in their hair and their nails all painted up tells you what you need to know.

“This seat is saved,” is also a clue.

You scoot down to give them room for their friend that will never come. Putting your lunch box on top of the table, you undo the straps to find what’s inside. Your mom has given you a sandwich with the crusts cut off. There’s a baggy of chips and a juice pouch. Your favorite flavor.

While you snack on the chips, the cafeteria begins to flow with more life. Eventually, you do see Eddie. He comes into the cafeteria with his own classroom. They’re rambunctious and awfully loud. Eddie heads for the long line to buy his lunch, but not before catching you sitting by yourself and he sends a wave your way.

You wave back at him, and hear the girls next to you snickering. Dropping your hand, you go back to hiding in your bag of chips. One of the girls leans to your ear;

“Do you like-like him or something? Is he your boyfriend?” She snickers. “He looks like a girl. Look at his hair! Do you like girls or something?”

“Eddie is my friend, and he’s not a girl,” your eyes begin to well up, but you take a deep breath before any of them fall.

“Aw,” she doesn’t miss a beat, “you gonna cry? Where’s your mommy?”

Robin approaches the scene just in time, as she overhears these pigs making fun of you. Slamming her tray in between you and her, she swings her leg over the bench.

“This seat is saved,” the girl scoffs, then puts her hand on the bench.

“I don’t see any name on it,” Robin sits hard onto the girls knuckles.

The girl yelps, and babies her fist.

“Are you going to cry?” Robin imitates the girl’s pouty lip.

“I’m telling!” The girl shouts in defeat.

“I’m not scared of you,” Robin rolls her eyes as the girl gets up. When she’s gone, she faces you, “you okay? Don’t let her get to you.”

“I’m okay,” you hold out your pudding cup. “Here.”

“Oh, wow!” Robin beams. “Thanks! You want my jello?”

“Sure!”

The two of you talk about not-so-important details of each other’s life. Robin’s bedroom has a red clock on the nightstand, and your bedroom used to be an extra closet before you were born. It’s all the same to you. Then, Robin tells you about her parents being business people. She’s not really sure what that means, but the house they live in is just down the street. She says she’ll talk to her mom, and maybe you can sleepover sometime.

You’ll talk with Robin throughout lunch, and then some more while you play on the structure outside at recess. The slide quickly becomes your favorite. Robin really likes the swings. While you push her on the swings, Eddie takes a turn on the one next to you two.

“Hi!” Eddie bounces into the seat.

You wave, “Robin, this is my neighbor, Eddie.”

“Hi, Eddie,” Robin twists about in the swing. “Do you want to play?”

“Okay,” Eddie taps your shoulder. “Tag, you’re it!”

Wind whipping in your face, you dart through the play structure after Eddie. Robin hugs the slide where you can’t see her, but her laughter gives her away. You tap on her shoulder because Eddie has grown much longer legs, and you’re too tired to find him across the field.

You dash away in Eddie’s direction. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you charge at him to yelling that Robin is ‘it’ now. Hugging a tree, you spin a few times, before Robin will give up and run after Eddie.

It’s not too long, before a few of Eddie’s friends join in on the fun. They’re older and much speedier than the two of you, but the chase is so rewarding.

Lungs burning. Heart pounding. A smile that cracks the sides of your lips. The only reason you stop the game is because a whistle blows in the distance. You're beckoned inside by your teachers.

"I'll see you later, Eddie!" You wave to him across the playground.

Eddie shouts from the line forming in front of his class, "Bye!"

-> <-

[July 1979]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92

[ashwhowrites]

Could you write an Older! Eddie x reader that is hurt/comfort to fluff, please?

Hi! Thank you for requesting. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it <3

Too young for a ring

Eddie knew his type was looked down on. He knew that his interest in legal, but young girls was a touchy subject. His friends didn't like it, the strangers on the street gave him looks, and his family never approved. People assumed he liked younger girls based on sex and looks. But he was still a child at heart and women his age wanted to drink wine and do nothing. He didn't want that. He still wanted adventure and to have fun.

Y/N and Eddie have been together for two years and Eddie wanted to bring her to Steve's for Thanksgiving. Eddie moved out of Hawkins after high school but Steve stayed. Eddie didn't get to see him much but he tried for the holidays. He worried about bringing Y/N and knew it would go like it does every time. He'd introduce her, and they'd immediately talk to him about dating young girls. "shouldn't you get someone to settle down with?" It was Steve's favorite question.

"You'll do great!" Eddie encouraged, and his arm was thrown over Y/N's shoulder. Her nervous frame hid closer to him as they walked up to the front door.

Y/N took a deep breath and nodded. Her heart picked up when the door opened. An older man with brown hair and brown eyes stood on the other side with a smile.

"Eddie!" He cheered, Eddie removed himself from Y/N and wrapped his arms around the man. A simple hug was shared before they parted. The man's eyes are on Y/N.

"And you must be Y/N. I'm Steve." He smiled, throwing out his hand. She smiled and shook it gently. He didn't look much older than Eddie. But even then Eddie had a young face. She wouldn't have guessed he was a day over thirty.

Steve welcomed them into his house. His wife set the table as two boys played video games on the couch.

"This is my wife, Trish. " Steve introduced her, both girls sharing a smile.

~~~

Y/N felt as if the dinner went great. Steve's family was wonderful and sweet. Even his sons were kind and talked with her. Trish pulled her aside for a glass of wine. Y/N was used to cheap liquor that Eddie bought. A nice glass of wine was different on her tongue.

Eddie and Steve stepped outside to smoke. Eddie lit his cigarette, knowing the drill. He passed the lighter to Steve as he lit his cigarette.

"Alright. Come on and say it." Eddie said, puffing on his cigarette.

"Eddie," Steve sighed, "when are the young girls going to stop? She's only twenty-two. You are double her age. Don't you want a family? A wife? A real relationship?" He puffed on his cigarette.

"It is a real relationship, Steve." Eddie glared. "Just because she's young, doesn't make our relationship less real. I love her and she loves me. Why isn't that ever enough for you?"

"You say that every time Eddie! That's why. Every girl you've brought to Hawkins. You love her and she loves you. And then you dump her once she wants something more when she wants a ring and a kid. Jackie was the "love of your life" remember? But she turned twenty-six and wanted a family. So you ran." Steve explained. The frustration building over the years.

"Y/N is different." Eddie argued

"Sure she is," Steve scoffed. "Lie all you want but next time you visit, it'll be a new girl." Steve smashed his cigarette in the small ashtray.

~~~

Y/N froze when Steve opened the door, her wet eyes catching his apologetic ones. Steve coughed uncomfortably and walked past. Leaving the couple alone.

"Was he right?" Y/N asked, her voice shaking. She sniffled as she walked outside next to him.

"About what?" Eddie asked.

"Are you going to leave when I start wanting a family? When I'm no longer a young chase for you?"

Eddie's heart broke as she tried not to cry. He sighed sadly and pulled her into his chest.

"No, baby. I've done things like that in the past, the things he said were true. But I mean it when you are different. You are so different. I'm so in love with you, and I've loved you more and more in these past two years." Eddie said, a soft kiss on her forehead as she sniffled in his chest.

"Did you say the same to Jackie?" She asked, she couldn't ignore the feeling in her gut. What if she was just another girl? Would a new girl be standing here in a few years? She wanted a future with Eddie, they talked about a family and a wedding, and they already lived together.

"No. " Eddie said truthfully, "I thought I loved her. And I thought I was in love with her. Steve thinks I run at the mention of a family because I'm scared. But the truth was that with all those girls, I never could see a family with them. I ran away because it wasn't what I wanted. But you..." Eddie trailed off. He pulled himself back, letting go of her. She watched confused as he got down on a knee.

"Eddie?" She asked, her heart pounding as he grabbed her left hand. There was no way he was on his knee, right?

"But with you, I see it all. I see us moving into a new house, I see a wedding with your beautiful dress. I see us having kids, as many as my body can allow at my age." He joked, a laugh escaping her as she held her hand over her mouth. "I want everything with you. And I planned to ask you once we got home. But maybe now is the best time to do it "

She gasped as he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small black box. Her tears turned into tears of happiness as he opened the box.

"Will you marry me?" He asked, his nerves turning his stomach in knots. He never thought he'd be able to do this. All the girls and women, nothing felt like what this relationship did. No one felt like her.

"YES!" she screamed, her hand shaking. His hand shook as he placed the ring on her finger. He felt relieved once he saw the ring on her finger. He wasn't scared, he didn't feel like it was a mistake. He almost felt like that ring was always meant to be on her finger.

Eddie stood up, she immediately threw herself in his arms. She excitedly laughed as she squeezed him.

Eddie squeezed her back, his face in her neck as he took in the moment.

Eddie knew she was different. He dragged out the truth with all the other girls. He ran the second they wouldn't believe him anymore. But with Y/N he never felt like he wanted to run. He wanted to be by her side every second.

~~~

"Well Steve, looks like you were wrong about this one," Trish said, watching as the couple on their porch shared a kiss.

"I think this is the only time I'm fine with Eddie being right." Steve teased, a smile on his face as he watched the newly engaged couple celebrate.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

[megalony]

Resemblance- Part 3

Okay, here is the third instalment of my new Evan Buckley series, thank you all so much for the lovely feedback so far. I hope you will all like this next part.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @senjoritanana

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Summary: When Evan introduces (Y/n) to Eddie, she resembles someone he used to know. And he can't help himself when he's around her, leading to frightening behaviour.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who's Shannon?"

Tremors continued to rattle through (Y/n)'s body and she couldn't lift her eyes above the level of Evan's collar bone.

She couldn't look him in the eyes. She couldn't bare to see the agony, frustration and pure anger swirling in his eyes, despite knowing none of it was aimed at her. Just knowing she had caused all of those emotions made (Y/n) feel worse than she had ever felt in her life.

What had she done? She had destroyed Evan's friendship with the one person who was always there for him through thick and thin. The only person Evan could rely on for anything, other than Maddie. She knew Evan saw Bobby as his father figure and that caused them to have a few differences and disputes over the years, but Eddie was more than a brother to Evan. He was like another part of him. They were blood brothers. And now (Y/n) had gone and ruined that friendship.

(Y/n) moved her arms to wrap them around her chest as if she was giving herself a consoling hug, but she couldn't hide the wince that flashed across her face when she moved her left wrist. Eddie had most likely sprained it.

Evan lifted his gaze from his phone and looked across at (Y/n) while he continued to type out a message without looking at the screen. Something he had grown very good at over the last few years.

He leant his hips back against the dining chair while his teeth sank down in his lower lip.

Suddenly, the few feet of distance between them felt like an ocean, and Evan didn't like it. He didn't want this space between them that had happened when he started storming around the apartment in a rage while (Y/n) simply watched him.

"You know her, don't you? Evan, your face fell when I asked who she was… why does Eddie think I'm her?"

She had seen it in his eyes the moment she asked who Shannon was. She had seen the light disappear from Evan's pupils and the way his back prickled and his shoulders tensed. He became defensive almost immediately. Things clicked into place and (Y/n) didn't have to tell Evan what had happened for him to piece it together.

Suddenly, he wasn't asking her if she had Eddie had had some sort of fight or an argument. Suddenly, he wasn't looking at her like he was worried Eddie was simply coming onto her. He assumed Eddie had hurt her. He assumed Eddie had pushed himself onto her and frightened her and worried her. That one name, Shannon, was all Evan needed to become pent up and enraged.

He had to know who she was and how important she was to Eddie. And (Y/n) had to know too. She had to know why she set Eddie off every time she was around him.

Something rumbled at the back of Evan's throat before he dragged a hand across his face.

He nodded and looked back down at his phone to the message he had hastily typed out to Tommy.

*Sorry, something's come up, can't make it tonight and Eddie probably won't either. If you see him keep an eye on him, he was in a state earlier.

Despite how much rage was circulating through Evan's mind and body, he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help but worry about Eddie, even after what he had just done.

He had to tell Tommy that he wasn't going tonight, it wouldn't be fair to leave him hanging because he didn't think Eddie was going to turn up either. But Evan was worried. He didn't know where Eddie was going or what he was going to do and in that state, Eddie might do anything. He might start a fight and get himself hurt or into trouble. He might get himself drunk to the point of excess. He might drink and drive. Anything was possible, and it worried Evan.

He wanted Tommy to know because then Tommy might find him or at least talk to him and make sure he wasn't going to do anything stupid.

Tossing his phone onto the table behind him, Evan slouched back into the chair again until the wooden back was pressing uncomfortably into his hips and creating a burning sensation beneath his skin.

He dragged both hands up and down his face, breathing into his palms to stop himself from going into a panic attack.

He let his chin flop down and both hands moved to grasp the chair behind him, steadying himself before he looked across at (Y/n). Realising she had taken a daring step closer to him.

"Shannon was Eddie's wife, they were together since they were teens. She's Chris's mum."

Stones started to sink into the pit of (Y/n)'s stomach and she leaned forward as if they were weighing her down towards the floor. She could feel the wheels turning in her mind and it caused tears to prickle in the corners of her already burning eyes.

"I th- I thought Chris's mum was dead?"

Evan's silence cut through (Y/n)'s heart and the hollow look in his eyes made her jaw drop.

Oh God. Oh no.

That was why Eddie kept saying he missed her. That was why he had been so stunned when they first met at the bachelor party. That was why he kept begging her to come home and telling her how much he and Chris missed her.

It wasn't because she was someone who had walked out on Eddie a long time ago or someone who lived far away or who didn't want to see him anymore. It was because she was physically gone, there was no essence of Shannon left. Eddie was grieving and recovering from her loss and now (Y/n) had walked in and awoken all of those dying feelings, bringing the embers back to life.

(Y/n) tightened her arm around her stomach while her hand moved to cover her mouth. She could feel her throat tightening and closing up and her stomach was telling her she was going to be sick.

"Baby-"

"Do I look like her?"

There was a turbulent look floating through Evan's eyes and his lips curled down and his nose scrunched up. He didn't want to answer that. He didn't want to even think about answering that. What kind of response could he give?

'Yes, you look a bit like my best friend's dead wife.'

'You resemble her, that's why my best friend went off the rails and hurt you.'

"A little." It was all Evan could say. He hadn't noticed. He had only met Shannon on a few occasions before she died and he didn't talk to her very much or spend a lot of time around her. They were passing acquaintances, that was all, but Evan had seen photos of her and the resemblance wasn't astounding or pain-stakingly obvious.

It was a small thing, the crease around her eyes, her smile and maybe one or two facial expressions that distantly looked like Shannon. If Evan hadn't noticed at first and even Chris hadn't noticed or said anything, then it couldn't be such an obvious reflection.

It was only striking to Eddie because of how deeply he loved Shannon and how much she was woven into his life and into so many of his memories.

Tears bled down her face and she closed her eyes, trying to ward off the burning sensation in her eyes from how much she had cried over the last hour since Eddie arrived and subsequently left.

She was desperate to drag her fingers through her hair and tug on the strands until they all came loose. She wanted to scratch her nails up and down her arms and lash out and scream and kick and thrash around the apartment. But all (Y/n) could do was lean against the kitchen counter for support. The same counter Evan had pinned Eddie up against.

"I should have stayed away." (Y/n) croaked desperately, unhooking her arm from around her waist to plant both her hands down on the counter.

"What?"

"He said he missed me." (Y/n) could feel the venom rising in her voice as she hung her head down and took shallow, shaky breaths. "He said I shouldn't have left, that I should come home! I- I should have stayed away, kept at a distance… I should have asked sooner w-who Shannon was."

Everything she should and could have done swirled around in (Y/n)'s mind until she was going dizzy.

Why didn't she ask Evan who Shannon was when Eddie first called her that? Why didn't she decide after he kissed her that she had to stay away? If she kept a firm distance between them, if she didn't let Eddie in tonight or if she let him in but kept at a distance from him, this might not have happened. If (Y/n) acted cold and rude towards Eddie instead of trying to be friendly, he might not have done this.

If she tried hard enough to be an enemy instead of a friend, Eddie wouldn't have felt like he was looking at his wife. He might have resented her, and resentment was better than whatever infatuation Eddie now had with her.

"What do you mean?" When Evan crossed the distance to stand beside her, (Y/n) frowned and stared up at him. "What do you mean, sooner? Has he done this before?"

The stones in her stomach started to grow heavy when she realised what she'd said. She'd given herself away. She told Eddie she wouldn't tell Evan. She promised herself she wouldn't tell him and upset him or cause any further problems between them. Now she'd ruined everything. Again.

Shudders rocked her frame when Evan's thumb and finger held her chin and tilted her head up so their gazes were once again interlocked.

"(Y/n), tell me. Has Eddie tried to come onto you before tonight?" The single tear that traced down her cheek had Evan's body pulling in on itself and his throat closed off when she nodded in his grasp. "What did he do?"

There was something almost menacing in Evan's voice and it made (Y/n) whimper. She didn't want to tell him. What good would that do? How was Evan knowing the details going to make this situation any better? It would only pit Evan against Eddie even more than this and ruin their friendship. That was the last thing (Y/n) ever wanted to do.

But Evan wouldn't let go of her chin and he wouldn't look anywhere else but into her watering eyes.

And he was using her name. He never called her by her name unless something serious was going on. He was forever using nicknames and pet names for her and that was the way (Y/n) liked it.

"At the wedding last week… he pinned me to the wall, he called me Shannon and kissed me. Evan he promised not to do it again-"

"That's- that's why you were so anxious when we left. Why the Hell didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to cause problems, and he said he wouldn't do it again! If I- if I knew who he thought I was, I would have told you." (Y/n) could barely catch a proper breath when Evan let go of her chin and moved to drag his fingers through his hair instead.

She would have told him if she knew Eddie thought he was talking to his wife. If she knew he thought she resembled Shannon, she would have put as much distance between them as possible. She would have told Evan or in the very least, mentioned something to Bobby since he seemed to be a father figure to both men. She wouldn't have been so forgiving if she knew why Eddie had come onto her in the way he did.

"Fuck! Christ, baby you should have told me either way. You can't hide something like that from me and pretend everything's fine. God knows what he might've done if I didn't come home- he had you up against the wall for fuck's sake. Did he hurt you tonight?"

Every thought imaginable started to run through Evan's mind at the speed of light until he felt like he was going to overload his brain.

If he knew Eddie had done this at the wedding he would of said something. He would of made sure Eddie knew in no uncertain terms that he couldn't come near (Y/n) again. He couldn't talk to her or approach her or go within ten feet of her until he had his shit sorted out. Evan would have told him to go talk to his therapist again and to be careful. He couldn't go down this path because it wasn't going to work out.

She was Evan's partner and even if she wasn't, trying to be with someone who looked like his dead wife was a frightening insult. He didn't want (Y/n) because of who she was or how smart and caring and funny and sweet she was. He wanted her because he wanted her to look and act like Shannon. He wanted his wife back in whatever form he could get her.

But he couldn't do this. Eddie couldn't go down this road.

(Y/n) gasped when Evan suddenly reached out and took her hands in his. He pulled her hands closer, frowning when she winced which caused him to look down at her wrists.

He noticed when he first stormed into the apartment that she had been cradling both arms to her chest. And he had seen the way she winced or tensed when she was moving one of her wrists.

It was swollen. Her left wrist was still shaking and the skin was tender, bruised and starting to swell up. But it was the nail marks scratched into her skin that made Evan's blood boil.

"He wouldn't let go," She whispered quietly, wincing when Evan dragged his thumb across the back of her wrist. "He kept telling me to come home."

"That's all he did? He didn't… Christ, he didn't do anything else, you swear it?"

"No." (Y/n) shook her head, trying to squash Evan's worries and rid them from his mind. Eddie hadn't gone any further. He didn't hit her or attack her or hurt her in any other way and he didn't force himself on her.

That was what Evan was worried about, (Y/n) could see it in his eyes. He didn't want to believe Eddie would do something like that, but Evan didn't recognise the man he had thrown out of their apartment tonight. He didn't know that frightening look in Eddie's eyes and it made Evan wonder what he was capable of.

What would he have done if Evan hadn't come home when he did? What state would (Y/n) of been in if Evan came home ten, fifteen, twenty minutes later?

"He's, he's never called me by my name. Evan, he doesn't see me, all he can see is her. It's like he's living in another world, a delusion."

It hadn't struck (Y/n) as odd at first when Eddie didn't say her name. It wasn't until he called her Shannon that she realised he'd never uttered her name before. Now she could see that whenever Eddie looked at her, something clicked in his mind and the world shifted. He looked at her and forgot where he was. He forgot what time he was living in and he forgot reality. All he could see was his wife and all he wanted was to do what he could to get her back.

He wasn't safe to be around when he was like that, and (Y/n) didn't know what to do or what Evan could do, either.

"Okay, it's okay."

The panic finally started to die down in (Y/n)'s chest when Evan submerged her in his embrace. Her face tucked back into his shirt like she had done earlier and her arms bound around his torso so tightly she almost squeezed all the air out of his lungs. She felt his fingers tangle into her hair and his other hand pressed down against her lower back, keeping her secured in his arms.

He kissed the top of her head and leaned his cheek against her hair as he tried to think. What could he do? How could he make this any better? How was he going to fix things with Eddie? Was there anything he could do to make this situation bearable for them all?

"Evan, I- I'm so sorry."

"What?" His brows furrowed and he tilted his head so both his mouth and nose were smothered in her hair. He continued to brush his thumb across the back of her neck and realised he had begun to sway them from side to side.

"Eddie's your family, I've come between you. I didn't tell you b-because I didn't want to ruin your friendship or the family you have, but now, I've-"

"Baby, baby stop. You haven't ruined anything, okay? Eddie has fucked this up but I'm gonna try and make it better. I'll talk to him, and to Bobby. But none of this is your fault and I don't want you to think like that or even dare think about distancing from me. You're my family too."

Evan had a feeling that (Y/n) might just try and step away from him. She might retreat and keep herself at arms length to try and let Evan repair things with Eddie.

It was clear she wasn't going to be able to be around Eddie anymore, at least not for a while. That meant Evan was going to have to distance from Eddie too and keep these two relationships separate.

Evan didn't want (Y/n) to try and pull away from him. He wanted her to stay right here, wrapped up in his arms where he knew she was safe and loved. (Y/n) was part of Evan's family too, she was just as important to him as Eddie and Bobby and Maddie. She was one of them and Evan was going to protect her and fight to keep her here with him.

He was going to sort this out. Somehow.

***

"You're in early, you pulling another double?" Eddie slung his bag off his shoulder and smiled as he walked into the locker room.

He rose a brow and glanced over at Ravi who was just finishing up getting into his uniform.

He moved towards his locker and placed his bag inside, reaching in for one of the newly washed shirts he had hanging up. But he looked around the locker when Ravi didn't answer him. Eddie could feel his brows knitting together in confusion when Ravi stared at him with a perplexed look.

Was he nervous? Why was he looking at Eddie like that? Out of all the people in the station, Eddie had been the one who didn't try and play tricks on Ravi or wind him up. He knew Ravi was always nervous around Bobby because he was Captain, and he was worried around Evan who was always trying to get him to do better and be better on shift. But not Eddie.

"No, I- I'm not on the B shift for the next two weeks… I swapped with Buck."

Those words sent knives striking through Eddie's chest and he could feel his heart seizing up in his chest.

What had Evan done? Who had he talked to? Why was he changing their shifts around?

They had routines, they worked together, almost every shift they had aligned together. They were always on the A shift and Ravi more often than not took the B shift because the latter shift meant more night shifts. And Ravi preferred nights, that was why they didn't often get to work with him.

"Why?" The dangerous tone in Eddie's voice had Ravi stepping back and looking around the empty room nervously.

He didn't want to say. He didn't want to repeat Evan's words that were still swirling around in his head from yesterday.

He could still hear the anger in Evan's voice and see the surprise on Bobby's face after Evan asked Ravi and Bobby for a chat in Bobby's office.

"I need a favour. I wanna be put on the B shift, just for a week or two. Can we swap?"

"Why?"

"Buck what's going on?"

"Ravi agreed so just switch the shifts, please?"

"I have to know the reason, Buck. If there's an issue I have to sort or be aware of-"

"Because if you don't I'm gonna rip Eddie's fucking head off."

A shudder tore down Ravi's spine at the memory. He could hear that gritty, low voice. He could see the rage in Evan's eyes and the panic written across Bobby's face before he agreed and dismissed Ravi for a private chat with Evan.

He didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know why his friend needed the swap. Ravi agreed, he would gladly help Evan out and change shifts, it didn't matter to him if he was now on the A shift, it would be a welcomed change. Just as long as he didn't get caught up in any drama or fights. He didn't want to be involved in whatever was going on here.

"Buck asked for a swap, I didn't ask why."

Eddie swung the locker door closed with such a thud that the locker itself bashed back into the wall and echoed around the whole station.

He left the locker room without another word and hurried into the main floor of the station, looking around for the person he had been avoiding for the last two days.

He hadn't called or messaged Evan. Not once. He had tried to give them both some space to calm down and he stupidly thought that Evan would be civil with him when they both came back on shift today. Clearly he thought wrong. He didn't think Evan would try and avoid him like this. He hoped they could talk and work things out.

He'd royally messed this up.

"Buck!" His voice boomed across the station floor when he spotted a familiar crop of sandy curls about to leave the station.

He stormed across to where Evan wasn't even turning in his direction, watching as Evan continued to walk off.

He had changed out of his uniform, giving away the fact that he had clearly just finished his shift rather than just starting it like he was supposed to start now, with Eddie. He was wearing slacks, a faded pair of trousers and a dark blue hoodie that, as per most of his clothing, was tight on the shoulders and very snug on the chest.

Evan didn't turn around until he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder and a rough grab that twisted him to the left.

His lips rolled together into a snarl and he huffed, shoving his phone back in his pocket while he dumped his bag on the floor. His head tilted back at an angle and he rose one brow, looking very distant and unamused as he stared down at Eddie.

"What?"

"You've swapped shifts, really? Can't we talk about this and work it out?"

"No." He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with a dismissive tone. "I don't wanna talk to you, Eddie. I don't wanna be around you at all, not until you've sorted yourself out."

That was it. That was all Evan wanted to say on the matter. He didn't want to delve into this right now in the middle of the station. He knew they needed to talk, but not yet. Not while Evan still felt like he could happily smash his fist into Eddie's face and not feel an ounce of guilt about it.

It would be better if they kept their distance for a while and let each other simmer down. And Evan wanted Eddie to try and figure things out for himself, he wanted Eddie to talk to his therapist and work through this before they even tried to talk.

Bobby agreed. Once Evan explained the situation yesterday, he told Evan space was a good idea and that they both had to calm down. And he told Evan in no uncertain terms that (Y/n) should stay clear of Eddie. She shouldn't try and clear the air or get him to apologise or try and get the boys back talking. She had to stay away if she wanted to help because she was a trigger for Eddie and he clearly couldn't help himself right now.

"Buck we need to talk."

"No."

"You can't just avoid me until you forgive me. I'm not doing this, we have to talk." Eddie gave Evan a rough shove before he could think better of it. He was aiming to push Evan towards the gym that was to their right, but all he did was infuriate Evan further.

Evan spun on his heels and knocked Eddie back three feet, chest heaving and rage pure and unfiltered in his eyes.

"I don't want to forgive you Eddie. There, you wanna talk? Go ahead. Tell me why I should forgive my best friend for terrorising my partner."

Evan took a step back before he growled when Eddie snatched his car keys from his hoodie pocket. He took a deep breath, calming himself down because he could see Chimney from the corner of his eye, watching them closely from the ambulance.

His neck cracked from left to right before he stormed into the gym after Eddie who put the keys on the bench at the back. He wasn't going to prevent Evan from leaving, he needed him in here so they could talk without an audience. And he somehow knew Evan wasn't going to leave their conversation half finished like this. Evan couldn't do that unless he wanted to go home and have this conversation with himself in a hundred different ways, wondering how it would have turned out and what he could of said.

"Talk." Evan demanded in such a shrill tone that it was almost a roar. He waved a hand out at his side to emphasise his patience that was fading and his will that was also wading away as the seconds ticked by.

"I didn't mean to hurt her, to hurt you. You have to believe me-"

"No I don't."

"Would you just listen?" Eddie snapped while his hands found their place on his hips and one leg leaned out to the side in such a sassy manner that Evan would have snorted if the anger wasn't directed at him.

But it was hard to listen when all Evan wanted to do was either run off and hide or yell at the top of his voice until Eddie understood. He had so much he wanted to say but no time or patience to stand here and say it. He wanted to talk, he wanted to listen, he wanted to run and he wanted to stay put. All together, all at once. All feelings combusting inside of him, one by one.

"I- God, Buck I don't know where to start. I saw her at the party and I just, I don't know, I felt whole and broken at the same time. She reminds me of Shannon, and I can't get over that, over her. What would you do if you thought you saw your wife after losing her four years ago?"

Evan waited another few seconds to make sure Eddie was finished before he contemplated how to respond to that.

"Okay… but if you felt like that, then you tell me. Or you go to Bobby or your damn therapist. Instead, you kissed my girlfriend, Eddie. You scared her, then you promised you wouldn't do it again. And then I come home and you've got her pinned against the wall. Do you even know what you might have done if I didn't come in when I did? Would you have hit her, would you shout at her or push her down or try and force yourself on her?"

Panic fluttered across Eddie's pupils and he visibly winced, pulling in on himself at the thought.

No. He wouldn't have done any of that… he hoped.

He couldn't truly answer that because he didn't know. It was like a veil came down over his mind and it wasn't Eddie in control anymore. He wasn't the type of man who would do any of that. He would never hit a woman or raise his voice or intentionally hurt or fight with a woman or a friend or someone he loved. But who he was that night wasn't the man he was right now. He couldn't control that change, and it frightened him.

"I miss Shannon." Something broke in his voice and if Evan was looking at this from an outside perspective, he would have broken too. He would have gave in and consoled Eddie and saw this through his eyes.

But Evan wasn't looking at this from the outside, and he couldn't see this through Eddie's eyes either. From his own perspective, that wasn't enough. Missing Shannon wasn't enough for Eddie to go and do what he did, Evan couldn't accept that.

"She's all I ever knew, the only person who got me, who I wanted to be with, and God took her. And now, it- Buck, it feels like you've took my chance to have her back and I know that's not true, okay? I know how wrong I am, but it's how I feel."

"But she's not your wife, Eddie, I haven't come along and ruined your marriage or taken your wife. Shannon's dead, okay? She's gone and you can't try and mould my girlfriend into Shannon's doppelganger."

"You've never lost someone you loved, Buck! You've never had to live each day without them and then see someone and think finally, they've come back to you. She's just like my Shannon-"

Evan's fist slammed against the wall, putting a rather large dint in the plaster and causing a violent thud to shudder through the station and catch a few people's attention.

"You can't even say her fucking name!"

A wide grin spread across Evan's face and he ran his fingers through his hair, looking up at the ceiling as he started to laugh condescendingly. How messed up was Eddie? How messed up was he to believe that Evan was going to go along with this mess? Did he believe Evan would see this from his point of view when he couldn't even be true to himself.

He couldn't say (Y/n)'s name. She was right. Eddie couldn't see reality when he looked at her and even now, thinking about her blurred the lines between fantasy and reality and Eddie kept slipping into that dream. He kept seeing his wife instead of the completely different girl in front of him.

"Her name is (Y/n) and she's nothing like Shannon, but you can't see that because you're fucked in the head."

It was Eddie's turn to laugh before his lips curled into a cynical smile and he shook his head as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

He lashed out and sent the heel of his boot rocketing into the bench, watching with glee as it toppled over and crashed into the stack of weights in the corner. The collision caught some more attention and he could of clapped when he saw Bobby aiming their way.

Just great. That was all they needed. Another person who wouldn't take Eddie's side. Even when Bobby knew what it was like to lose his wife and feel like the world was ending. Bobby would take Evan's side just like he always did because he was closer to him. And Bobby had his happy ending. He had Athena and Evan had (Y/n); but who did Eddie have?

Who was left for Eddie to love and be loved by? Who could Eddie be with when everyone seemed to leave him?

"Here we go, here's your back up come to save you. Go on, tell him what I've done. Get me put on leave 'cos I'm so fucked up. Get him to talk to me because even Bobby gets a second chance after killing fifty people but I can't have her because she's yours-"

"Shut the fuck up Eddie."

"You know what, I'd love to know what would have happened if you didn't come home that night. Maybe I'd of gotten lucky with your girl."

Evan lunged. Before he registered what he was doing, his right arm curved around Eddie's waist and he rammed his shoulder into the middle of Eddie's chest, level with his sternum. He pushed, forcing all of his weight forward until Eddie was toppling backwards and landed with a harsh thud on the polished floor with Evan's weight crushing down on him.

He reared back just enough to sit up and slam his fist down against Eddie's nose. Revelling in the way Eddie's head smashed into the floor and blood started to pour down his face.

"Enough!" Bobby's stern demand coursed through the air and before Evan could slam his fist down on Eddie again, he felt a pair of arms slip beneath his armpits. "Buck, get off him!"

Bobby shuffled back and dragged Evan along with him who kicked his feet out as a violent growl passed his lips.

He wanted to fling his arms out. He wanted to hit Bobby and tell him to get off so he could go for round two of attacking the stranger he didn't think he knew anymore. But he let Bobby stand him back on his feet and pin him against the wall with one firm hand in the centre of his chest. He held his arms out at his sides as a sign of surrender while Chimney rushed ahead and helped Eddie onto unsteady feet with a hand plastered beneath his bloody nose.

"I thought this was why I changed your shift pattern?" The condescending tone in Bobby's voice faded out as he stared across at Evan and noticed the pain hiding behind his eyes. "Buck, go home. Eddie, get in my office. Anything like this happens again on shift, I'll suspend both of you, now move."

Leaning over, Evan snatched his keys from the floor where they landed when Eddie kicked the bench over. He swirled them round on his thumb while his chest heaved and his head felt like it was full of air.

He was leaving. He was going home to be with his girl. And he would try to forget that this had happened, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. He couldn't see a way past this point.

What were they going to do?