#country!eddie munson

[madelynraemunson]

— along for the ride ☆

🐃 the tag team (co-writers): @joshlmbrt @swiss-mrs @mediocredreams 🩶

eddie x fem!reader

a/n: reading flight of icarus and finding out eddie is from tennessee REALLY husked my corn 🤠 also, this may or may not have been inspired by the bull fight scene in hoard

cw: daydream p in v sex, riding, eddie gets a hard on watching reader ride, innuendos, play on words

Stamina. Strength. Strategy. Safety. The Four Important S’s when it comes to bull-riding. 

‘Support’ is your unofficial fifth. You’ve generated quite the following after showcasing your riding skills at Whisky Jim’s every Saturday night, the ooohs and aaahs of your spectators filling the air as the spotlight drenches your cute… calculated… perspiring body. 

Bull-riding at the dive bar every weekend has become a favorite hobby of yours. It’s a perfect outlet for all the stress, the rough-and-tough of it all perfectly counterbalancing your slow-as-snails, but somehow busy and draining 9 to 5. Riding gave you something to look forward to.

“Look at her go,” an onlooker coos in admiration. “She’s got life by the goddamn horns.”

You toss your head back, glossy lips parted in excitement as the crowd’s appreciative hoots and whistles filled the air.  You could get used to this. You have gotten used to this.

Even with the world at your feet, things were starting to get boring again. And you are constantly craving something wild, something new. Something or someone that will make like the bull by sweeping you off your feet and taking you out for a spin.

Someone like Eddie Munson, perhaps.

Eddie isn’t sure what drew him… here out of all places. But something about the rowdiness compels him as he climbs out of his van, Halen and into the bar, boots scuffing the hard wooden floor. But the flight-risk metalhead is determined to find out, itching for adventure as he saunters with feigned confidence into the southern saloon. 

He flags down the closest bartender, a country heartthrob of a man with black hair and blue eyes. The Casanaova places a coaster down in front of him as Eddie steps up to the plate. “What’ll ya be havin’?”

“Anything local,” Eddie replies, more of a question, unsure of what exactly is available. “Anything hoppy.”

“Bottle or Tap?” the man follows up after a curt nod, mindlessly running a hand over his thick mustache.

“Tap. Pint, please.”  

The bartender gives another nod before disappearing to fulfill Eddie’s request. Meanwhile, the outcast takes this short window of time to look up and down the bar at the different patrons. 

All from different walks of life. But all here for presumably the same reason.Whisky Jim’s is decently packed, but for the most part, the crowd is congregated either in booths, at tables, or in the middle of the floor.

A glass is placed onto the coaster. The same deep country twang effectively regains Eddie’s attention.

“Wanna start a tab, brother?” The older man asks with a polite grin, eyes crinkling up at the sides as he does. 

Eddie offers a polite smile in return.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” 

The bartender studies him intently this time, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“First timer?”

 Eddie clears his throat uneasily, kicking at the peanut casings at his feet to avoid contact with the John Wayne of a man that was in front of him.

“Obvious?” 

The man cackles at Eddie, the slight patronization of the old-timer’s demeanor making him want to evaporate. But the amused blue eyes and downturned smile indicates it’s all in good fun, much like his uncle Wayne who always liked giving him a hard time whenever he made himself too small. 

“Son, you couldn’t stick out further if you were a dog’s balls.” 

A fellow bartender laughs at the man’s remark. Then Eddie joins in. It was pretty funny. 

“You just don’t really look like the kind to be into square dancin’, is all,” the bartender remarks as he narrows his eyes at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, slightly wincing as the first sip hits him.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Just thought I’d explore a bit outside of my usual.” 

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie.”

“Greg.” The bartender gives him his hand to shake. “You from around here or you comin’ from outta town?” 

“Hawkins.” 

“Not too far from home then. And it seems you came on a good night.” 

And as if on cue, the crowd towards the middle of the building erupts in cheers. Eddie briefly glances over his shoulder in the general direction before turning back to Greg with a curious head tilt.

“What’s happening?” 

Greg nods his head over in the direction of the crowd.

“Bull Ridin’ Night.”

Your thighs are wrapped around the firm leather seat as you’re whisked around in one fluid motion. You turn to give your rapt audience a wink. The crowd eats up your presence, evident by the adorn kisses they blow your way. You buy into the theatrics, pretending to catch them before putting them in your back pocket for later. It only riles the audience up more.

“They bring that thing out on Saturdays,” Greg explains. “Between the Karaoke Nights and the Hoedowns, Bull Ridin’ is one of the most popular.”

 Eddie tries another glance in that direction, but due to the crowd, he doesn’t have the best view of who is actually riding.

 “You gon’ give it a try?”

 Eddie’s head whips back around to the older man to find a teasing smirk on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“I… don’t think so.” He chuckles. “I’m not the most balanced or coordinated person.” He admits that with a grimace and another sip of his Hawkins Pale Ale. 

“I’m just teasin’ ya, boy. HEY!” Greg whistles at the bartender next to him. “Who’s up there now?” 

 The coworker throws a quick glance over their shoulder before replying. There’s a bashful smirk when they reply, 

“Who do you think?” 

The crowd erupts again, cheers and whistles alike. Who else gets this kind of crowd engagement? No one else other than you, of course. 

“Looks like my girl is up there breakin’ hearts again.” Greg lets out a soft laugh. 

Eddie gulps as his breathing shallows. A girl? Up there? On that thing?

Eddie, once again, nearly strains his neck trying to get a glimpse of the rider. When he fails, Eddie turns back to the bar, downing the final quarter of his pint, before looking back at Greg.

“Fetch me a bottle for the road, yeah?”

 Greg issues him a chuckle, grabbing the empty glass and handing him a bottle version of that very ale, while Eddie sets off on his curiosity journey to the middle of the floor.

“Boys will be boys.” Greg’s female coworker remarks with sassy pursed lips.

Eddie closes in on the crowd,  slipping through the few empty spaces between the onlookers with half-assed ‘Excuse me’s. Though no one was paying him any mind. And when he settles by the barrier, just a mere two rows behind, he finally gets the perfect view of you.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face at the sight of you working the crowd. He watches as you give a practiced flick of your hips to get the crowd going and the enticing jiggle of your breasts under your tight shirt. Drew in Eddie’s eyes like a laser beam. The thin material was stretched taut, giving a hint of the perfect tits underneath as you arched your lower back and thrust your chest forward to keep your balance. 

“Christ,” he exhales sharply, in awe of your natural performance, the boisterous, unpredictable gravity of the machine whirling you around as you wrestle to hold on. 

His eyes drink in the sight of the soft, rounded curve of your ass that peeked out of the bottom of your faded Daisy Duke’s as you lean forward to steady yourself in the saddle.

WHOOSH!

The bull jerks sideways and you flex your thighs and circle your hips in the saddle to keep yourself astride. The plush skin of your upper thighs press tightly against the seat and your upper body sways in rhythm with the bull’s movement. 

You were born to ride.

“That’s how you do it, Indiana!” a spectator hoots in adoration as you cling on for dear life. “That’s how you do it!”

You give a deep roll of your hips to meet the thrust of the machine, causing Eddie to run the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip before sucking in a shaky breath. Your hips… the way they roll… is almost hypnotic, and Eddie’s brown doe eyes can’t help but linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out, black, intricate swirls of cyber-sigilism that tease him slightly. 

Fuck.

“God, she’s so pretty…” he thinks to himself. “And she knows how to ride.”

Eddie’s eyes trail to the white of your knuckles, his own fingers gripping the bottle of his beer when his eyes slide up your arm and land on your face.

The front of his pants start to feel uncomfortably tight. Eddie adjusts himself as discreetly as he could, but even the soft brush of his fingers against the strained denim causes  him to hiss under his breath.

“Ride it, cowgirl!” an audience’s comment centers Eddie once again. “LET ‘EM KNOW!”

The way you matched the bull’s gyrations and anticipated its every move made him weak in the knees, and as he watched you swirl your hips in the saddle like a modern day Annie Oakley he couldn’t help but wish it was him straddled between your shapely thighs instead. 

As Eddie stood there watching, the dull roar of the crowd faded into the background. At that moment it was just you and him. 

In his mind he’s already lassoed you to his bed; and you’re sat astride him like a cowgirl in your saddle, hands splayed on his chest for balance as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. And you’d bite down on your plush lower lip and let out a soft moan as you sank down onto him slowly, taking your time and adjusting to his size. 

“Oh, Eddie,” he could almost hear you purring. “It’s so big.”

And he’d chuckle with false modesty and rub a hand tenderly along your thigh as if to soothe the delicious stretch of his thick girth.Then once you adjusted, you’d move, meeting each unpredictable roll of his hips with your own as you mastered the rhythm of your very own long-haired bucking bronco.

And he’d be gripping you tight with each deep thrust, pistoning, plowing himself into you while watching his cock disappear into your slick pussy over and over with each forceful snap of his hips. And with every strained mewl he milks out of you he’d press you down by the hips and drill into you further, your weak cunt just about ready to tap out on top of him. This handsome bull’s sure a challenge, you’d be thinking to yourself. Eddie is a ride you wouldn’t be able to survive.

———

The crowd disperses when the show is over. Eddie stands a bit straighter when you finally leave the middle of the floor, eyes darting towards the plush smirk that your soft lips create. If it’s even possible, he thinks you look even more heavenly. He’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him. 

Little does he know that for you, he’s taken that same effect. You’ve grown so accustomed to everyone here that a new face has captured your attention. And you felt him staring at you, with a gaze so impassioned that you just about almost lost your footing up there. But you pulled it off real well, attempting to shake off the redirection in the form of a dramatic bounce of your tits.

It perplexes you. A man making you that nervous? Up until late, it’s become rather unheard of. You want to know this man and see for yourself what his energy is all about.

Eddie finds himself fixing his appearance when he notices your legs striding over, clearing his throat as his palm slides over the stubble that he had been trying to grow. 

“You know it’s kinda rude to stare the way that you do,” you remark.

“How so?” Eddie challenges. “Everyone else is doing it. What makes me different from everybody?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” you smile at him.

Eddie shifts his weight onto the counter, bringing the bottle up to his lips, taking another gulp. His eyes dart everywhere -- the metal buckle of your belt, the skin that was shiny with dried sweat, your hands that tap at the sticky countertop of the bar, the way your lips wrap around the tip of your bottle and the liquid that slips out and down your chin that he greedily wanted to tongue away. 

“Funny,” you observe. “I’m here every Saturday and I’ve never once seen your face.”

He thinks he’s looking over at an angel, really, heart beating faster when he realizes it’s him that you’d made an effort to come up to. Made an effort to get to know.

“Interesting that you saw me.”

“I see everything from up there. And you’re a newcomer, I can tell. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the best way.”

You invite him into your energy, closing up the distance between the two of you with a graceful stride in his direction.

“You were amazing,” Eddie says to you. “Really know how to put on a show, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists. “Spotlight loves you. Killer crowd engagement as well.”

“You a performer too?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” you sigh dreamily. “Just a fellow performer lookin’ for some tips and pointers.”

Not much needs to be said to know that you two ache for each other, judging by how the intimate dive bar grows non-existent for as long as you two are captured in the forcefield of each other. Eddie thinks that there would be absolutely nothing better than giving you some pointers, his hand leaving the bottle, some of the liquid sloshing around the precipitating glass, heart pounding in his ears as he nods quickly. One rowdy night wouldn’t hurt anybody, he thinks to himself. And it’s very apparent that, the stunner that is you, wants take him for a spin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t we ride off into the sunset, just you and me?”

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more @saradika @mikeykuns

[steddieas-shegoes]

Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.

His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.

Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.

Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.

They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.

Eddie agrees.

It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.

The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.

Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.

Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.

But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.

He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.

So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.

It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.

Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.

Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.

Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.

Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.

"But what if I let you down?"

"You won't."

"But-"

"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."

And he was.

They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.

He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.

He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.

When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.

But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.

Of course Steve was there.

[biancadjarin]

🌾a Roll in the Hay🌾

pairing : perv!em x innocent!countrygirl!reader

warnings : graphic sex, p-in-v, breeding kink (sorta?)

a/n : hoo boy ok so I’ve been thinking about country girl reader and Eddie for a while, went a little crazy on this one. It’s kinda long, but I hope you enjoy! I have a lot of WIPs and ideas for different types of Eddie’s but it really helps when you guys comment/like/reblog so I know what you want to read more of.🧡

MASTERLIST HERE

18+ !!!

You hear the crunch of his boots on the gravel outside the barn, your hands finishing up a braid in your horse’s mane. You feel the excited butterflies flutter awake in your tummy, a smile breaking across your face.

“There’s my pretty little baby.” Eddie coos as he wraps his arms around your waist, breathing in your sweet scent deeply. You’re so fuckin’ cute and innocent. In your sweet little blue and white gingham dress, a little bow tied between your boobs. And you never wear a bra. Fuck does Eddie love that. He swept his eyes down your frame, your soft thighs leading to the smooth skin of your calves, frilly little socks peeking out of the top of your boots.

He holds out a tiny bouquet of wildflowers he picked on his walk from his van to here. Tiny white and yellow star-lily’s, a baby pink prairie rose, a little bundle of baby’s breath. He’s always doing little sweet things to make you smile.

You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a tight hug. “Teddy Bear!” You squeak, nicknaming him that after he won you a little blue bear at the carnival. He squeezes the jiggly skin of your asscheeks in his big, calloused hands and lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist, kissing you like he hasn’t seen you in a week. It’s only been about 18 hours. He spins while he’s holding you, making you giggle and get dizzy. “Put me down, Teddy!” You say as more giggles bubble out of your throat.

This has been going on for a few weeks, after you met Eddie and his friends at the Hawkins carnival, you two couldn’t be separated. He kissed you at the top of the ferris wheel, telling you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever met. And he meant it.

“Why have I never seen you around before?” He’d asked, lips leaving wet kisses along your jaw. You giggle into his hair, the feeling of his big hands holding your hips, one of his hands sliding your legs over his thigh.

“I live an hour outside of this town. On a farm.” You reply breathlessly. He pulled back, his big brown eyes looking like a sad puppy’s. “An hour?” He sounded disappointed. He twirls your hair around a finger, his other hand playing with the hem of your tiny Levi’s shorts.

You nod at him, waiting for him to tell you that’s too far away for him to bother. He shrugs, “Guess I’m about to put a lot of miles on my van.” He says, pulling you into his chest, leather jacket arm closing around your shoulder, your head pressed against his shirt, his heart beating fast and the rumble of his voice in your ear. “I’m going to come see you so much, you’ll get sick of me.”

So Eddie drops you down, still holding you close, his tight jeans and black sweater making him look extra cozy.

“Just missed you so much, babygirl. I hate when we’re apart.” He cupped your cheek and you smiled softly, leaning into his palm like a kitten being pet. “I missed you too Daddy.” That’s your favorite nickname for Eddie. His too. It sends a jolt right to his cock every time.

“So what do we want to do today?” Eddie asks, lacing his fingers with yours, swinging your hands gently. You two have gone to dinners, movies, concerts, taken long car rides. Anything to spend time together. But today, you have other plans.

“Mmm… I have an idea…” you sway nervously on your heels. “But I wanna show you something first.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise curiously, nodding softly for you to continue. You take a deep breath, “okay. well I went to the starcourt mall last week and bought something for you.” “For me? Baby, you know you don’t have to buy me things.” He starts to chastise you.

“I think you’ll like this gift, Teddy Bear.” You push him back gently, telling him to sit on a hay bale. You lift the skirt of your dress up to your waist, revealing the lingerie you bought.

Eddie releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His eyes go wide as he looks toward the opening of the barn, making sure no one can see you two. You giggle, “no one’s home, daddy, don’t worry. s’just me and you.”

Eddie’s brain short circuits as he drinks you in. His soft innocent little bunny, your sun-kissed skin, covered in peach fuzz and goosebumps. A sheer pink lace thong covers your smooth core, little flowers, leaves and strawberries embroidered in the fabric. A garter cinches at your waist, thin ribbons circling around your thighs. Silky pink bows hanging off your hips.

“Wow baby, fuck.” “You like it?” You ask, peeking down. “Like it? I’m losing my mind over it.” He says, hands coming out to pull you towards him. You rest your hands on his shoulders as he traces his fingertips over the ribbons, so dainty and small in his hands.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Or anyone.” He says, looking up at you. The sun setting outside the barn is sending golden amber beams in through the door and Eddie’s caramel colored eyes are sparkling as he looks at you.

“What are you thinking about, daddy?” You ask, sweet as peach pie. “Shit,” he takes a deep breath, pulling your tummy close to his face, his lips kissing any bit of skin they can reach. “I don’t know if I should say what I’m thinking about.” He laughs.

“Are you thinking about fucking me?” You ask nonchalantly. He looks up at you, hands gripping your waist. “You can’t just say stuff like that, babygirl. You trying to kill me?” You giggle at the look on his face. “No, Eddie, I’m serious.” You say, shaking his shoulders softly and wiggling your hips to emphasize your point. Eddie watches as your hips and thighs recoil at the movement, he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold himself back and be a gentleman.

“But I thought you wanted to wait until we’re married?” He asks, sliding back on the hay bale to pull you into his lap. You look off to the side, clearly conflicted with what you were raised to believe and what you really want.

Eddie is a perv but he’s also so in love with you, it makes his stomach ache. He would never want to push you to do anything you didn’t want to do but to be honest, this whole ‘waiting until marriage’ thing has been kind of a bitch. He’s gotten used to rubbing your clothed pussy against his boner for a release, feeling guilty about it every time. But he needs to get off. And you make him so horny.

You whispering “Well maybe we can do… other things.” is all the ammo Eddie needs. He pulls your dress off over your shoulders, watching as your round perky boobs bounce back once the fabric is gone. He groans as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, eyelids hooded as he palms and squeezes your boobs. He lets each fingertip graze over your nipples as you let your head fall back, tingles all over your body. He pinches your hard nipples a little too roughly, a loud moan escaping your throat.

He smiles slowly, “Oh, don’t tell me you liked that. Don’t tell me that because I won’t be able to control myself.” You nod, “Felt good, daddy.” You whimper. His eyes roll back in his head as he takes your nipple in his mouth, his tongue sucking and laving over it while he tweaks your other one. He switches back and forth between them until they’re nice and wet, his lips glimmering with saliva. You rake your nails through his hair, scratching gently at the nape of his neck.

“I feel tingly down there again, Eddie. Remember how I told you last time?” Oh he remembers. Almost had to pull his dick out and stroke it in front of you when you told him. You had been making out, your little hips wiggling, your pussy getting drenched. Eddie loves the fact that he can get you so turned on. He loves that he’s the one who gets to introduce you to all this stuff. He wanted to touch you that day but held himself back. But he’s done holding back.

He pulls a flannel blanket off the top of the hay and lays it out onto the dirty barn floor. He instructs you to lay down, while he unclasps your garter belt and slips your panties down your legs. He sniffs them taking a slow, deep breath, making you giggle and blush before he slips them in his back pocket.

You feel totally bare in front of him, legs spread wide open for him to settle in between. He crouches down, eyes hooded and mouth hanging open as he takes in the beautiful flower between your legs. Pussy lips all pink and puffy, little nub of your clit sticking out under it’s hood just begging for attention. Your tiny fluttering hole is leaking clear, milky fluid that has his mouth watering, he licks his lips to stop from drooling.

He lets his fingers dance through your folds, gathering all your slick. You tremble at his fingers, thighs starting to come together. “Oh none of that baby,” he says pushing your thighs down with his palms. “so sensitive aren’t you?” he asks before landing a little spank to your clit. You moan loudly, hands cupping your breasts and squeezing hard.

Eddie’s in awe of you, so perfect and pure laying open for him. He gets down on his stomach and hooks his forearms under your thighs, guiding your ankles over his shoulders. “Gonna help you get nice and open for me, ok baby? Gonna get you nice and ready.” You bite your lip and nod, eyes closing as his lips trail little wet kisses up your inner thigh.

He spreads open your lips and spits directly on your cunt, watching it drip down and mix with your juices. His mouth attaches to your clit while he carefully, slowly slips his middle finger into your tight hole. His thick finger curls upwards, finding that special spot deep inside you.

You rake your fingers through his hair, pulling his face closer to you and moaning his name. He smiles against your pussy, peeking his head up to admire your fucked out face and tell you how sweet you taste.

He goes back to licking and sucking at your clit sloppily, his wrist working faster to fuck his finger in and out of you. He pulls his finger out to dip the tip of his tongue inside you, so warm and tight around his pink muscle. “Daddy, feels so good, need your finger again.” He dips his first and middle fingers in this time, seeing how much you can take.

“Fuck baby, your pussy’s practically pulling in my fingers.” He groans. He flips his hand so his palm is up and he starts pistoning his fingers in and out of you. Your legs start to shake and he holds them down, fingers squeezing at the flesh of your thighs.

You cry out his name, a tense spasm feeling starting deep within. His thumb starts to strum fast circles on your clit, “c’mon baby. show me you’re a good girl. know you can do it.” He says, out of breath. You squeeze your eyes shut, all sound fading away as your first orgasm comes crashing over you, each wave of pleasure more intense than the last. You cry out, repeating Eddie’s name as you gush onto his hand.

“Fuuuuck babygirl, that’s it. Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.” He says as you come down from your high, catching your breath. “Oh my god, daddy.” you say, exhausted smile on your face.

Eddie palms at his hard length through his jeans, if he doesn’t stop neglecting it soon, he’s going to lose his mind. He leans over you, kissing you deeply, tongue sliding over yours. You run your fingers up his chest under his shirt, helping him pull it off. He pushes his hips into yours, the rough fabric of his jeans scratching at your soft skin. “I need to know how it feels to be inside you baby, just for a minute. I promise I won’t put more than just the tip in. Please.” He begs you, his hands already unzipping his jeans, unbuckling his belt. “Just for a minute?” You clarify. “Cause you know I’m not on the pill, Teddy Bear.”

He growls, “Just a quick minute baby,” he kisses the tip of your nose, “I promise, I just need to feel you wrapped around me.” You nod at him, sweet little smile on your lips. He shimmies down his pants and boxers, just to his thighs.

He shudders as he reaches down to grab his cock, giving it a few tugs as he kisses your neck and whispers a thank you in your ear. Your eyes wander down to look at it. “It’s pretty like you, daddy. Pink like your lips.” You giggle. He smiles, kissing you softly as his weight comes down on you. He looks down between your bodies, letting the mushroom head push through your slick folds. “Gonna be a little bit of a stretch, bunny. But it’ll feel better soon.” He says before pushing his cock all the way in to the hilt. You hold back a moan, focusing on when it’s going to stop hurting.

Eddie’s mind goes blank. Being inside you is more addicting than he thought it would be. He slowly pulls all the way out before sliding back in, just as deeply as before. He lets out a whimper as his face gets nuzzled into the crook of your neck, one hand on your hip, the other holding your cheek.

Your gummy walls hug him tight, like you were made for him. He lets his hips start to hump in and out of you, never fully pulling out, just enough to feel his balls slap against your ass. He keeps going and going and going, whimpering and moaning your name telling you how good you feel.

The painful stretching feeling is gone and all that’s left is pleasure, Eddie’s big thick cock filling you up just right, so much better than his fingers, which you didn’t think was possible.

Eddie’s hands grab behind your lower back, hugging you close to him as he fucks up into you. “So fucking tight baby, never gonna let this pussy go. Gonna make you mine forever.” He grunts as he fucks you hard and deep.

He’s starting to sweat, mumbling curses and praises to you. It feels so good you don’t want it to stop but you start to get worried. He’ll stop before it goes too far you think. His hips pump faster into you, wet sounds and skin on skin slaps echoing through the large barn. “Can’t pull out-can’t. Feels too good.” He chokes out. You whimper, hands pushing his chest, little “no”s leaving your mouth as another orgasm creeps up on you.

His movements get faster and sloppier, short broken moans leaving his mouth as his eyes screw shut, his forehead coming down to meet yours. You open your mouth as a silent moan comes from deep within you, coming at the same time as him. Thick ropes of his cum shoot inside you, his hips flush to yours as he pumps every last bit of his seed into you with a shudder.

You look at him angrily, “Eddie!” “What?” He says, laughing a bit at how cute you sound when you’re angry. “You said only for a minute!” “I’m sorry, it felt too good. Been waiting so long for that.” “You lied to me.” You said, eyes starting to water. He tuts at you, smile leaving his face. “No, no, no bunny, I tried to pull out, I really did. I’m sorry.”

A fat tear rolls down your cheek, “You didn’t try! Now what am I going to do? What if-what if-” you choke out through sobs. “It’ll be fine baby. You’re not pregnant. And if you are, we’ll be ok. All three of us.” You look at him with your big wet eyes, starting to relax and breathe normally again and Eddie smiles softly. He doesn’t regret what he did because he’d do it again. He meant what he said. He’ll make you his forever.

“Yeah?” You ask him. “Of course. Whatever happens, I’ll always be here. No matter what.” He says, thumb swiping away the trail of tears from your cheeks. He kisses you softly, “I love you, Bunny.” You smile, “I love you too, Eddie.”

.

.

.

[yournowheregirl]

my mind’s been stuck on secret dolly parton fan southern!eddie and suddenly it sprouted 2k of fic so uhhh here ya go? more to follow! (unbeta’d btw) [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 1: jolene

He might not look it, but deep down, hidden beneath the leather jackets and silver chains, Eddie Munson is a good old-fashioned southern boy. If you heard his uncle talk, you’d know he’s not from around Hawkins, but Eddie has mostly hidden his roots over the years. He had traded in his faded blue jeans for ripped black ones, his momma’s country vinyls were hidden away and replaced by heavy metal tapes and his drawl only comes out when he’s drunk out of his mind, calling everyone darlin’ and sweet pea. 

He misses Tennessee sometimes, though he doesn’t remember much. He misses the warmth of the people and the sunshine, he misses the cornbread his old neighbor Mrs. Carter used to make, but he mostly misses his mom. Misses her laugh and the way she tucked him into bed with a song every night, always with the same Dolly Parton song. 

Maybe that’s why he always reaches out to Dolly when he’s feeling down in the dumps. 

And all because of Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington.

He doesn’t really know when it started exactly. Maybe it was back in high school, when Steve just filled out those gym shorts way too nicely. Maybe it was that summer when Eddie kept wandering through Starcourt Mall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Steve in that damn sailor outfit. Maybe it was going through hell and back and somehow coming out alive, matching demobat scars and all. 

He doesn’t know when, all he knows he’s halfway in love with Steve and it’s frustrating to say the least.

Frustrating because he and Steve are somehow friends now and friends apparently talk each other’s ears off about their respective love lives. Including Steve’s endless supply of flirtations with girls at Family Video, just like today.

Steve’s been sweet talking some girl named Emily for the past twenty minutes now, really laying it on thick. Telling her how nice this shirt looks on her, how pretty her eyes look, how she really should find someone to watch Sixteen Candles with. Eddie turns away so that Steve won’t see the way his eyes roll at yet another one of Emily’s adorable little giggles. 

It’s not even justified, the nasty feeling in his stomach, the green snake of jealousy that slithers around his throat. It’s not like Steve is actually his. He’s just Eddie's friend. Eddie’s great, very straight, very much ladies’ man, friend. So Eddie keeps his mouth shut, grips his copy of The Thing a little tighter and pushes that feeling way deep down as the bell dings and Emily disappears through the door.

“Ha! Harrington’s back, baby!” Steve exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“What are we celebrating?” Eddie asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Got a date this Friday.” Steve grins. He wiggles a piece of paper in between his fingers, probably with Emily’s phone number scribbled on it. 

“Nice.” Eddie says with a tight smile, hoping to God that Steve’s still too smitten to notice the way his body has gone all rigid. 

“Yeah, she’s pretty nice isn’t she?” Steve sighs happily. “Just hope she’s the one, y’know? I’m so tired of all those first dates, asking about each other’s siblings and favorite colors and I just… yeah, I just hope she’ll be the one.”

“Rooting for you, man.” Eddie says and oh my God, what kind of bro talk is that? Eddie wants to kick himself, but he just looks away instead, dropping the VHS on the counter.

“Thanks!” 

And he just looks so happy. His eyes glistening with hope, his lips (oh god his lips) turned into a victorious smile, his entire body just exuding confidence. Eddie really shouldn’t be mad at him, not when he looks like that.

Instead Eddie spends the entire drive back to the trailer park fuming and thinking of little miss ‘I-Hope-She’s-The-One’ Emily. Now, his momma raised him to be a gentleman but that vicious snake that made itself home in his stomach makes him want set fire to Emily’s stupidly perfect pleaded skirts. 

He’s so pissed off that he misses the exit that leads to Forest Hill, and instead he just keeps on driving. Past the luxurious villas, past the wide open fields, past the Leaving Hawkins sign. He doesn’t know where he’s going exactly, he just knows he has to leave. 

He only stops when it starts to turn dark outside and he spots a few warm lamps just on the side of the road. After closer inspection, it turns out to be a roadside bar, hidden away beneath some trees. Eddie’s stomach rumbles and he realizes that he hadn’t eaten since noon, so he parks the van and walks towards the bar, aptly named Off-Road.

Once Eddie steps inside, it’s like he’s suddenly back in Tennessee. He’s seeing men in flannel, shooting whiskey at the bar. Women in plaid dresses, dancing along to some honky-tonk song that’s playing on the radio. The wall decorated with all kinds of things that just scream Americana, old-faded photos of farms, a row of cowboy hats, an acoustic guitar on the wall.

He can’t believe what he's seeing, so he almost stumbles over his own feet as he makes his way to the bar.

“Hiya kid. What can I get ya?”

Eddie looks up to see a small, but buff woman standing behind the bar. Her silver hair is cropped short and pulled back by a red bandana and the tassels on her leather vest swivel as she cleans a glass with a dishrag.

“Uh, just a Coke, I guess?” Eddie says. “Do you also serve food?”

“Yeah, mac ’n cheese’s on the menu today.” The woman smiles, busying herself with finding a bottle of coke beneath the counter. “What’s your name kid? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Eddie.”

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie. My name’s Pat.” Her voice is low and silky smooth, with the southern twang Eddie only hears when his uncle talks. “You from around here?”

“Hawkins.” Eddie nods. “But originally from Tennessee.”

Pat’s face lights up. “No way! Me too! Small world.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Eddie says. “Pat, can I ask… what is this place?”

“Oh this ol’ place?” Pat laughs. “This is just a lil’ home away from home. I’ve moved here for Tish, she’s the one in the green dress over there.” She waves towards the other side of the bar, where a woman with dark curls is scrubbing one of the tables. “But I’ve always missed home, y’know? So, we started this place a couple of years ago, 

“You and Tish are…” Eddie trails off, not sure if he’s put the right puzzle pieces together.

“Tish is my partner, yes.” Pat’s smile fades and gets replaced with a stern look. “You got a problem with that kid?”

“No!” Eddie says quickly, waving his hands in protest. “No, not at all. I’m… I’m also gay, y’know.”

“Tish!” Pat calls out, smiling when Tish looks up. “We got another one!”

“Stop adopting gay kids, Pat!” Tish calls back. “We’re running out of rooms!”

Eddie laughs. He’s gonna like it here.

-xxx-

After Pat’s absolutely heavenly mac ’n cheese, Eddie finds himself relax more and more and for the first time, he lets out his accent without any alcohol in his system. It’s not like anyone will make fun of him for it here, he thinks that Pat probably would encourage him to be as southern as he can be.

He chats with Pat and Tish and some of the other patrons as the time ticks by. Swapping stories about back down south, laughing at things the people here in Indiana just don’t understand, Eddie’s never felt more at home. 

Tish suddenly excuses herself as the bluegrass music on the speakers fades away. Eddie watches as she walks to the little podium in the far back of the bar and announces that the open mic night has begun and that anyone can join. An older man immediately jumps up and grabs the guitar off the wall and starts playing a song that Eddie vaguely remembers from back home.

“D’you play, kid?” Pat asks. “You look like you play.”

“Yeah, guitar.” Eddie replies. “Not like this though.”

“I figured.” Pat snorts. “You don’t really seem like the Willie Nelson type. But you’re welcome to step up and play us something.”

Eddie hesitates. Pat’s right, the music he normally plays doesn’t really fit in here. This is not the Hideout, this is not the place for screaming bloody murder about the injustices of the world and headbang while Gareth smashes the drums. 

Still, he’s feeling strangely drawn to the podium, especially when his mind provides him with a reminder why he drove away from Hawkins in the first place: Steve and perfect little Emily. And suddenly, he knows exactly what song to play. 

“Wish me luck.” Eddie grins at Pat as he stands up from his seat.

“Break a leg, Eddie.” Pat winks and shoots him an encouraging smile.

Eddie makes his way to the other side of the bar, patiently waiting until the older man finishes his song and whooping with excitement once he plays the final chord. The older man smiles at him, grateful, and hands the guitar over to him as Eddie sits down on the stool in front of the microphone.

“Uh, good evenin’ everyone.” Eddie says into the microphone. “It’s my first time here, actually and I, uh, I don’t even know if I can play this song, but let’s try, shall we?”

The room is eerily quiet as Eddie tries to remember the chords from so long ago, the chords his momma used to play on warm summer days in their backyard. 

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene… I’m beggin’ of ya, please don’t take my man.” 

The words feel foreign and yet strangely familiar in his mouth. It’s been so long since he heard this song, but the words just flow out of him easily

“He talks about you in his sleep and there’s nothing I can do to keep from cryin’ when he calls your name, Jolene.” Eddie’s voice is soft, softer than it’s ever been as he tries so hard to push away the images of Steve and Emily, happily together. “And I can easily understand how you could easily take my man. But you don’t know what he means to me, Jolene.”

It feels good, cathartic even, to sing this song. Maybe even better than screaming along to Metallica’s latest album. Not that he’ll ever admit that to anyone, but it’s the truth. There’s no other song right now that understands exactly what he’s going through, that says the things that he wants to say but can’t, not out loud anyway. 

“Please don’t take him even though you can…”

Eddie plays a few more chords until he finally lets the song fade out and the bar burst out into the applause. It’s not the biggest applause he’s ever had (apparently murder charges does wonders for forming a crowd at the Hideout), but it’s definitely in the top three of best post-performance feelings of his life. Maybe because these people just get him, maybe because he can just sing about his feelings for Steve out in the open and no one will judge him or ask any questions about it.

“You got some real talent, kid.” Pat nods as Eddie slides back onto his bar stool.“You’re welcome to come back and sing a little Dolly for us anytime.”

Eddie’s certain that he will.

[corrodedcoughin]

pretend with me for a second that the song ‘when I think about you I touch myself’ came out just after the defeat of Vecna. Steves car is in the shop and Eddie’s van is still detained as evidence (even though he was cleared months ago)

So they are without a car and in need of a ride. Which is how they find themselves being driven to hellfire (honorary member Steve is attending so he can stare at Eddie under the guise of babysitting and Eddie? Eddie would do anything to have him there because, no, they still aren’t together yet. Both of them convinced the other just wants a ‘friend’)

And who is driving them? Claudia Henderson. She actually insisted when she found out neither of them had a car, wanting to try and pay them back for everything they’ve done for Dustin. Of course said boy is sitting between the other two in the back of Claudia’s car. She also insisted that they all sit in the back ‘let me be your chauffeur for the night!’ And none of them were going to deny her, they’ve seen her wrath before.

Claudia’s got the radio as close to blasting as she’ll allow, Dustin is squeezed between two of his favourite people and Steve and Eddie? They are doing their usual game of cat and mouse, sneaking glances and hoping the other boy doesn’t see.

Which is when the fateful song comes on. Newly released. None of them aware of the lyrics. So as the singer croons

‘I don’t want anybody else

When I think about you I touch myself’

The car goes dead silent. I’m truth dustin and Claudia aren’t really paying attention, in a world if their own. But Eddie? Steve? It’s like a bucket of cold water has been poured over their heads. Eyes trained to anywhere but each other. Steve has a thousand yard stare directly out the window and Eddie is fumbling with his rings as he takes them on and off, dropping the majority of them when the chorus comes round again.

It’s a very long car ride.

[dustcommander]

I see a lot of post on here about Steve dabbling into Eddie’s hobbies and picking up his taste in music. Which is all great. Excellent. Super awesome I love it. But where is the Eddie getting into Steve’s interests? I want Eddie and Steve at a Super Bowl party and Eddie is so into it and Steve is so smitten with him. It starts out as Steve convincing him to watch sports because “eddie you clearly like to ogle jocks” and eventually he’s all about it.

And I want Steve expanding Eddie’s taste in music because “if you only enjoy one genre of something eddie, then you have bad taste in that something.” And Eddie is obviously throughly offended that anyone could ever dare to even think to allude to him having bad taste in music that he makes it his mission to learn all Steve’s faves and that’s how they end up at a Willie Nelson concert and eddie is decked out in black fringe and black studded cowboy hat, wearing a bolo tie and he’s loudly and proudly singing along to every song and Steve is just absolutely swooning.

I JUST THINK IT WOULD BE NEAT IS ALL IM SAYING

[tartarusknight]

I'm just saying that Appalachian Eddie Munson would know how to swing dance and line dance... I'm just saying

[morganbritton132]

Eddie’s not going to film a bunch of kids dancing so he only posts two videos once they leave for the dance.

(1)He posts a video before the dance starts of a large punch bowl that’s filled with juice pouches. He pans the camera away from the bowl over to Steve and zooms in, “This is an affront to the high school experience.”

“This is a middle school.”

(2) A couple hours after the dance, Eddie posts a video from his bed of Steve dancing around the room. His tie is loose. His jackets is open. He looks soft and happy as he uses his glass of wine as a microphone and sings Careless Whisper.

Eddie’s not talking but you can feel his smile behind the camera as Steve stops singing just enough to tell him that he was amazing tonight.

“Better than prom?”

“Better than prom.”

Eddie might not have been filming that night but the students were. There’s a lot of videos where you can see Eddie and Steve in the background, but there’s one video that goes up where you can clearly see Steve ask Eddie to dance with him. There’s another (multiple) of Eddie joining Mike’s band on stage and he does in fact play Careless Whisper. Steve is standing front row.

[starrystevie]

these nights are eddie’s favorite, steve with his head pillowed on eddie’s thigh as they sit on a blanket under the stars, just enough of a chill in the breeze to have an excuse to cuddle close. eddie’s strumming away on his acoustic guitar, something soothing and low so as not to disturb the night’s stillness. he’ll be picking at the strings with his deft fingers that are callused from years of practice and steve will close his eyes to listen closely, fingers trailing wherever he can reach. 

“mm, that’s nice, what is it?” steve will ask, sleepy and content, hand curling over eddie’s calf. 

“just something my mom used to play when i was younger,” eddie will whisper in the darkness. his fingers will fumble ever so slightly over the strings before finding themselves back in the right position. “it’s some old country song that she liked to put on when she was cooking supper.”

eddie will look down at steve, take in the way the moonlight bounces off the curves of his face, feel safe in the dark with him. “wayne taught me how to play it after she died.” he’ll say after a beat, a soft confession that weighs heavy in the air. 

steve will let his eyes flutter open and let his hand wrap around eddie just a tad bit tighter, show him he’s not going anywhere. “sing it for me?” he’ll ask. his lips will press into the denim underneath him before he settles back down.

and the thing is, eddie would do probably anything steve harrington asked him to do. so he sings to the sleepy boy underneath him and he sings to his mom who he’s hoping can hear him and he sings to the moon and stars as a thank you for giving him moments like this. 

[mirkwoodmunson]

smoking with Eddie and then you're straddling him and kissing and then a song comes on u really like so you are like dancing while straddling him and he's just watching u and maybe he starts undressing u while u lipsync to the song maybe huhuhu

HUUHHUHUHUUUU 🤪

“i was feelin’ done iiiin~ …”

“babe…”

“…couldn’t win…”

“please can we just—“

“i’d only ever kissed befooo-ooore~!”

“—watch this movie without—“

“you mean she..?! …uh-huh…”

“…christ…”

“i thought there’s no use getting! into heavy petting! it only leeeeads to trouble aaand…” you grab eddie by his cheeks and smoosh your noses together, staring him dead in the eye waiting for him to continue the lyric.

he can’t help it, squeezes his eyes shut and snorts, “seat wetting!”

you squeal and giggle and clutch his head to your bosom now where he sputters with laughter, lets you handle him as you will as you continue along with susan sarandon.

“now all i want to knooow! is how to gooo~!”

you playfully shove him away and he falls back into his pillows with a huff, grinning up at you with shining eyes as you shift up onto your knees on the sheets, singing into the invisible microphone clutched in your fist. with your other hand you point a lazy finger, and eddie pretends to nip at it.

“i’ll put up no resistance! i want to stay the distance!”

you crawl over his legs and as you do eddie cranes himself up while you lean over him, all teasing smiles and giggly and blushing cheeks as he slides hands over your thighs.

“i’ve got an itch to scratch, i need assiiistaaance~!”

his gentle slide turns into an eager grab as he hooks arms around your bottom, yanks you further into him as you yelp and eddie growls, susan continuing the song while your boyfriend devours your mouth in a hungry kiss. you’d teased him and now he had to touch you. when you separate for air you attempt to continue your cadence but it’s softer and a little gravely, hands roaming over eddie who pants softly and starts undoing the buttons of your shirt. your fingers graze the front of his pants and while he utters a light groan, you grin.

“you need a friendly hand, ohh i need aaaactioon~!”

eddie slides your shirt back and down your arms; you’d taken your bra off before movie night started and eddie is just over the moon with this information, uttering a needy sigh as he leans into your chest and offers it his gentle attention. as he kisses and licks, you smile and drop your head back, this time just mouthing along as susan belts out your exact sentiments;

“touch-a touch-a tooouch meee!”

eddie all but growls with a nipple pinched between his teeth, “i wanna be dirty.”

he hooks his hands by the backs of your knees and yanks you into him so you’re forced to lie back with a yelp, your crotch pulled snug against eddie’s hips. you disintegrate into a fit of giggles as eddie sits up and leans in over you, swallows your laughter, and susan continues to serenade over the noisy kisses and soft moans.

[eldritch-thrumming]

you're a cowboy like me.

you're a cowboy like me, perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear like it could be love, i could be the way forward, only if they pay for it.

Steve is good at reading people. He always has been. He can spot an easy mark a mile away. He knows what to look for, knows that it’s always the older, lonely women, the ones who wear their pearls and their diamonds to lunch on a Tuesday afternoon, draped in black velvet and satin, ancient fur coats hanging off their shoulders, that will eat up his words and his casual touches like peppermint candies. 

Steve’s been working his way through Westchester and the Hamptons for three summers now, which generally means he knows practically everyone there is to know. Everyone worth knowing. So when a stranger in black leather and pressed trousers crashes a Friday night at the country club, everyone takes notice.

Steve’s in the formal dining room, surrounded by Marie—his date—and her girlfriends and their husbands, when Bill Weatherstone stands from his spot next to his wife to greet the stranger who’d just been led to their table by the club’s hostess. Conversation at the table comes to a stop so abruptly Steve would find it funny, if he wasn’t so suspicious of this new stranger. The newcomer has long, curly dark hair pinned out of his face in a ponytail at the back of his neck and big, innocent-looking eyes. When he smiles and clasps Bill’s hand in both of his in greeting, Steve makes note of the dimples on his cheeks. 

The stranger isn’t wearing a sports coat, which means he’s technically not supposed to be allowed to sit at their table, but Bill is the president of the club’s board and Steve knows he can generally do whatever the hell he wants. Money will do that.

“Ladies, gentlemen, this is the new associate at the firm,” Bill’s booming voice rings out, so loud that the chatter from the surrounding tables dies out a little as other diners turn to look at them. Steve notices that several other club members eye the stranger suspiciously as well. “Just started up with us last week. Eddie Munson, here’s the gang.” He makes a sweeping gesture around the table. “Gang, Eddie Munson.” He claps Munson on the shoulder before returning to his seat.

Munson turns his blinding smile on the rest of the table while he pulls out the empty chair next to Bill and drops down into it. He’s not graceful about it, but there is a certain charm in the rough-around-the-edges, wrong-side-of-the-tracks vibe he’s got going on. If you like that sort of thing. Steve doesn’t, but he knows that there’s several women sitting in this room who would eat Eddie Munson up like creme brûlée. Steve can't help but scowl down at his plate. 

~*~

After that first night, Steve starts seeing Munson everywhere. He’s at all the club events, in the club’s dining room every Friday night, and he’s somehow gotten himself invited to all the best parties. He’s always close to Bill or sometimes Jasper Jenkins, the club’s treasury director. 

Steve is still suspicious of Munson, but he hasn’t caused any problems with Steve’s particular favorites this season, so Steve just continues to give the outsider a wide berth and mind his own business. He’s done this long enough to see others come and go. Sometimes he can feel Munson’s eyes trail after him as he leads one of his ladies to a darkened corner or out onto the terrace for a closer look at the stars and some privacy. 

About three week’s after Munson first enters the country club, Steve is invited to a poker game in the club’s basement. He doesn’t usually get invited to these kinds of things; he tends to stay close to the women, accompanying them on their days out shopping and listening to them complain about their husbands or how their children never call at their private teas and lunches. Cozying up to the married men isn’t really his idea of a good time and it’s certainly not what he’s here for, but occasionally, he has to put in an appearance or two.

Steve’s shit at poker. He loses three hands before he has to tap out of the game altogether. The room is full of club members and younger women, the air smokey from cigars. The club’s pianist plays in the corner, but no one pays him any mind beyond stuffing a few bills into the glass he’s got sitting on the piano when they pass him by. The women are half naked and giggling, skin smooth and pink as they sit in the laps of old men. The poker room has several doors leading off of it and Steve shudders to think what’s happening behind each one. Steve may sleep with married women, but at least those women have class; they’re hurting and neglected, cast aside by their greedy husbands. They’re looking for companionship, closeness, more than sex; all the things Steve’s more than happy to give them if their husbands won’t. These men are just pigs. 

Steve’s been down here only a few times before. He vaguely remembers the way to the restroom and he tries to follow the winding, wood-paneled hallways using muscle memory. He pushes open a dark wooden door down in a quiet corner, a little further from the poker room than he remembers. The room is dark when he enters, a single table lamp lighting up the space. Steve’s mouth drops open, shock paralyzing him in the doorway. In the corner, Munson is pushed up against the wall, head thrown back with Bill Weatherstone’s lips attached to his neck. Munson’s hand is gripping at Bill’s thinning hair and his eyes meet Steve’s. A slow smile spreads across Munson’s face as he meets Steve’s gaze and he shoots Steve a wink before making a shooing motion with his free hand. Steve backs out of the room quietly, pulling the door closed behind him, his face burning red. His hand pulls at the knot in his tie, mouth suddenly dry as he makes his way back to the card game. Steve doesn’t even need to make his excuses to anyone back at the game, just grabs his jacket and flees the club.

Later that night, after he’s taken Marie out to the opera and delivered her safely home to her Manhattan townhouse, Steve lays in his bed and remembers the look on Munson’s face, the way he’d smiled at Steve with heavy lids, vision cloudy through the dark. 

Steve was good at reading people. He always had been, until he’d met Eddie Munson.

~*~

shoutout to @richhietozier for leaving some beautiful tags on one of my rotten brain au posts.

[harrywavycurly]

Country Club Eddie Part 9: Cash and Food

Masterlist: here

Tag List: @emma77645

A/N: Look at all this progress!!!😂

*Eddie wants you to know he thinks you’re cute and also he tips well*

[wynnyfryd]

dear steddie writer besties i would just like to inform you that my birthday is in three weeks in case you maybe possibly wanted to make some fictional dudes smooch about it

[red-bat-arse]

I Got a Problem 🎸🎶🎻

AO3

Chapter One

Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, famous for bringing rock to new heights with his band Hellfire, listens to everything but Country. 'King' Steve Harrington, leading light of the new generation of traditional Country artists, has a few thoughts about that.

=<+>=

Eddie Munson did not normally find himself accused of being musically pigeonholed.

He'd played alongside punk bands in his early touring days, and grew up on jazz and the blues from his mum and uncle. His hits on the pop charts prompted a few collaborations with electronic and indie artists, and his sophomore album featured a few rappers who wanted to get experience with rock. Metal was his bread and butter, he had a soft spot for soulful folk ballads, and given his close friendship with Argyle he was more than familiar with reggae and funk and all varieties of stoner music.

Of course, you could probably guess that the exception to all that was the ever contentious genre of country. However that wouldn't be a problem, wouldn't even be on Eddie's radar, if not for the batshit insane decision Hopper made in a diner three blocks away from the studio the week prior.

Eddie scowled and shot Jeff another look when his vocalist snickered at his expense. On the other side of the room this party was happening in, he could see Steve Harrington talking with Dustin and laughing at whatever the kid was frantically gesturing about.

He was dressed in a embroidered beige western shirt with pearls on the long cuffs, blue jeans with a brown belt and a big copper buckle, and honest to god cowboy boots that matched the ensemble. His hair was styled high and his biceps strained the shirt sleeves a little, and when he turned on his heel to follow Dustin's pointer figure Eddie was briefly overcome with lust at the amazing ass in his direct line of sight.

"I don't care," he pronounced finally, twitching as Harrington spun back and ruffled Dustin's hair, grinning wide when the kid squawked in outrage. Jeff outright snorted and Eddie glared harder. "I think doing this before we move to a bigger space is stupid, but all power to the Chief if he thinks we can make it work."

"Don't care at all, got it," Gareth said, coming up beside him. "It's just business concerns. Like, our assets."

"See, why can't you be more like Gareth, Jeffery? He knows exactly what i'm talking about," Eddie slung an arm over Gareth's shoulders -and he must be in a good mood because he didn't duck away. "Business assets."

"More like his ass-et," Jeff muttered, and Eddie valiantly ignored him.

Five days ago Hopper walked into the studio's monthly brunch and introduced them all to one Joyce 'Mama' Byers -which, okay, even Eddie knew who she was -and dropped the bombshell that she signed on with them two days prior. Once the commotion died down she was the one who dropped the next one, informing them all that they'd soon be sharing close quarters with nine other artists from her former label, preeminent among them the one who convinced them all to walk out, that being Steve Harrington.

All ten of them were country artists. Prison Break Records hadn't put out any music that wasn't solely rock or metal in it's entire eight years of existence. To say there was a bit of culture shock going around was an understatement.

"Give them a chance, Ed," Grant passed by with a few cans of coke tucked into the crook of his arm and slapped him on the shoulder, making Eddie stumble. "Half of them are in the middle of doing the bar circuit right now, and it's not like we need the studio space anyway. It's all good."

Eddie huffed, trying not to let Grant's comment sting -he knew he didn't mean anything by it. But at nearly six months to the day, even though the guys would never rush him, maybe Eddie was getting a little bit worried about the future.

"I was talking with the Byers, apparently it's mainly gonna be Joyce and Harrington recording for the next month at least," Gareth piped up again, jabbing a thumb in the direction of country music's leading family -Argyle had somehow struck up a conversation with them and while the younger brother seemed confused, the elder was paying rapt attention to whatever their resident stoner was explaining. "Everyone else is taking a break or doing small shows or one off songs, like Grant said."

"Fine, fine, I get it," Eddie held up his hands in surrender. "But if they start blasting fucking honky-tonk bullshit-"

"Oh come on, Munson, don't tell me you're one of those."

Eddie paused, then slowly turned around, feeling his face heat up only partly in embarrassment to see Harrington standing just behind him, having apparently been abandoned by Dustin in the last few minutes. He had his hip cocked and a hand casually resting with the thumb hooked in his belt, and up close Eddie could see little moles scattered all over his face and neck like flecks of paint. Next to them, Jeff turned and coughed a laugh into his elbow, muffled.

"What, pray tell, are you talking about?" Eddie quashed the instinct to puff up for a fight. Just because Harrington was a good old jock with arms that could bench him didn't mean he had to have his back up, and he reasoned that this was his home turf here. He and Hopper may not always see eye to eye, but if Eddie asked he'd take his side in a heartbeat.

Harrington gave a funny little smirk, the kind you'd give to the family dog who was doing something cute but ultimately futile.

"You're the type who hates Trace Adkins but's never heard of David Allan Coe," he raised an eyebrow, then nodded to Jeff and Gareth, holding out a hand to shake with each of them. "Name's Steve. Good to meet you guys."

"Jeff," "Gareth," his bandmates parroted back, easy as breathing, while Eddie was still stuck on Harrington's little dig about the artists he was or wasn't aware of.

"You do most of the song work, don't you Munson?" he was asked, and Eddie belatedly realized he hadn't actually accepted Harrington's handshake. It was too late now, so he kind of awkwardly answered in the affirmative and watched that hand get pulled back and settled onto Harrington's other hip, so the man was standing almost like a judgy mother hen as he kept talking. "I've been kind of obsessed with Dark Sheep lately -especially the way you captured sexuality in 'Something On Your Tongue'; like how it's all about being confident, and whether it's a stranger at a club or working a job, the narrator's attracted to them in a way that's not gross to listen to. I mean, 'I love the way you dance with anybody' as a line is pretty refreshing when you think about it and... oh. Sorry," Harrington trailed off and turned a little pink, ducked his head. "Didn't mean to ramble on there."

Steve Harrington listened to Hellfire's music? Eddie blinked and the guy was still in front of him, looking earnest as a slice of apple pie or whatever the fuck, and he mentally shook himself. 'King' Steve Harrington listened to his music enough to have an opinion on it, on specific songs from their last record, and he came out the end of it liking his lyrics?

"Dude, get it together," Gareth whispered and elbowed him in the ribs, jolting him out of his fugue.

"Didn't think that was your thing, Harrington," Eddie ran his mouth with the first thought that came to mind, even if it was kind of dickish. "Sexual liberation ain't exactly very prayerful of you," he made the sign of the cross on that last part.

Far from what he expected, that got Harrington to bark out a big, surprised laugh. "Oh, c'mon," he rolled his eyes. "You can't seriously think I'm in with the god squad? They were most of why we left Tiger Studios in the end. Besides," Harrington flashed a charming smile, pearly whites matching the pearl buttons below on his shirt. "It'd be pretty hypocritical of me to preach against sexual lib, considering."

What the hell did that mean? Was it just his brain pulling tricks on him, or did Harrington's eyes flick up and down Eddie's body right then -and where the hell had Gareth and Jeff gone? They were supposed to be his buffer against his least favourite genre, not -ah, there they were -not chatting up the other members of Harrington's little ensemble across the room.

"Consider me told, then. You ain't godly whatsoever, I'll be sure not to disparage your sterling reputation again with that mistake, my liege, cross my heart," Maybe he was laying it on thick here, but there was something about Steve Harrington that got his pulse up; when the other man tilted his head with a baffled smile at Eddie's statement, he had to clench his fist hard so he didn't just -well, he wasn't actually sure. "But I think without the god talk that just makes you a hick, big boy, sexually liberated or otherwise. Is that better or worse?"

Maybe Harrington was just pissing him off with his... everything. His shit genre and his cocky attitude and the way he dressed to impress, it was cringey at best and edging on pretentious at worst. Eddie crossed his arms and scowled, annoyed with this damn situation of having to navigate a whole new set of people in the studio when he was already behind in his work and had no fucking clue how to fix-

"Hicks make some good music, Munson," Harrington said, sounding all kinds of condescending about it. "Especially these days, if you know where to look. Sounds to me like you're a little musically pigeonholed," Eddie went ramrod straight as Harrington threw that accusation in his face, and he felt his cheeks go hot in offense. Harrington smirked, noticing. "But hey, I'm always down to help out if you wanted to explore your options."

Musically. Pigeonholed. Musically pigeonholed!

"Fat chance of that, boots," Eddie swung his foot forward and knocked toes with Harrington, fancy brown tops against Eddie's scuffed workman's. "Sounds to me like the crown's too tight on your head after dropping contract. When you can write a song that's not about beer and trucks and girls, give me a shout, okay? Maybe I'll even give it a listen."

Steve's smirk turned a shade meaner, and he was probably going to say something really nasty -figures -when he got clapped on the back by a big man in a hawaiian shirt and with a thick beard, holding a martini of all things.

"Woah, kids, tone it down a notch. We're here to have a good time," the guy said, part patronizing and part stern -it was a weird combination. "Especially you, Discount Dio. Take it easy on the new guys or I'll ask Wayne to break out the baby photos, tout de suite."

Oh, so this was Murray. Wayne's mysterious drinking buddy who just so happened to be one of the artists who bailed along with Harrington. Eddie had no doubt he'd make good on the threat -not that he needed it, exactly. The interruption seemed to have taken the wind out of both his and Harrington's sails, if the way the guy looked embarrassed was any indication.

"Sorry, Murray," Harrington said, and Murray rolled his eyes.

"Just relax, kid. None of these guys are Hargrove, or even Carver Jr for that matter," he shook Harrington's shoulder a little, and shot Eddie an odd look. "Even the ones that growl and snap at you are just Chihuahuas. And you, puppy," he snapped his fingers in Eddie's face, making him flinch back in surprise. Also, offended -puppy? "I think you've got a hot head right now, so you should remember you know better than to shit on music you've never listened to. Don't you?"

Fuck, damn his big mouth. He felt his cheeks go tight with embarrassment, and he cut a look at Harrington. They were both close to thirty and yet here they were feeling like scolded children.

"Shouldn't have said that, Harrington. Sorry," he offered, ash in his throat. The guy looked surprised, but nodded, accepting, and Murray threw his hands up, sarcastically relieved.

"Thank god! Now come on, join the party," he hooked a hand around Eddie's neck and used his martini arm to bump Harrington forward.

The country boy looked at him one last time before seeming to shrug off their entire interaction, a fake expression of cheer getting plastered on after a flash of disappointment. Why he was disappointed was anybody's guess; maybe he'd thought Eddie would be more repentant in his apology.

Fat chance of that. Musically pigeonholed his ass.

Eddie sighed, flexing his hand, and readied himself to push through a few more hours of socializing. Internally he apologized to Hopper, too -a productive working relationship with the country club didn't seem like it was in the cards for him.

=<+>=

I keep a running list of songs referenced in the notes on AO3 -I don't do tag lists!

[corrodedcoughin]

just thinking about musician eddie who ends up doing country music under a pseudonym similar to Orville Peck. Eddie having his rock and metal band but the influence of Wayne and his upbringing doesn’t leave him. So he puts on a mask and picks up an acoustic to be this character. A character that’s closer to his real life than he lets on. A deep voiced cowboy singing about the difficulty of growing up gay but how comfortable he is with his identity.

He only ever does small gigs under this name and the audience isn’t huge. But there’s one regular that turns up to every show, he’s never stayed to talk to Eddie after and Eddie’s never been brave enough to go up to him. He knows he’d let all his secrets out under the attention of those hazel eyes and pretty boy smile.

Tonight though? Tonight he might just risk it all because the gif is over. Eddie is standing at the bar and he’s being handed a drink he definitely didn’t ask for by a man he definitely wants to know more about.

Or!!! Alternatively!!!!!

Steve as an Orville Peck style country singer. Going it to gigs and shows and getting a name for himself as the mysterious masked singer who is a proud queer cowboy. Creating a character to share his emotions and experiences. He doesn’t think it’ll come to much, just a way to let himself be heard.

Only he ends up gaining a strong following. His audiences are small but they are dedicated, understanding the idea steve has created and the importance of it. He loves this group he’s made for himself and how comfortable everyone feels at his shows. There’s often full conversations between him and the crowd, letting everyone be involved in his performances.

Steve has every intention of this being a small time thing that gets him through the long work week. What he doesn’t plan for is one of his tapes being found by corroded coffin front man eddie munson. Eddie Munson who loves a mystery, Eddie munson who might be in a big time metal band but has grown up listening to country and know Good Music when he hears it. Eddie Munson who might be Steve’s number one fan and is planning on finding out who is behind the mask

[symbioticsimplicity]

I’m gonna have to name this little AU if I keep going, but I have no idea what I’d call it. Suggestions? Part three of these posts. AO3 link!

Part 4

                                                                 *

“Okayokayokayokay,” Steve said, half way through their second shared bottle of vodka, “I gotta know, if this’d happened, like, two years ago, would this have happened?”

Billy squinted at him, the cogs in his head almost visible as he tried to make Steve’s question make sense. Eddie and Tommy however seemed to latch right onto the meaning behind his slightly slurred words. 

“Noooooo.” Eddie declared with a shake of his head and a wave of his hands, “Nope. Woulda ended bloody ten minutes in. Tops.”

“The hell are we talking about?” Billy asked, rather than continuing to try to puzzle it out.

“This,” Tommy gestured to the group at large, “Us. Could we have all hung out in the same space like this.”

“That is not what he asked.” Billy muttered.

“It’s what he meant.” Tommy shrugged, laying back against the floor.

“Yeah!” Steve agreed, “What’dya think Bills?”

“First, don’t call me that.” Billy’s glare wasn’t half as intimidating with his cheeks all rosy like that, “Second, no way. I couldn’t stand any of you back then. Munson gets a pass, cause he had the hook up.”

Eddie pumped his fist in the air and Tommy made a wounded little noise of derision. 

“What? Why didn’t you like us!” He rolled so he was facing the group again, though still laying as comfortably as he could.

“Is that a real question?” Billy cocked a brow.

“Yes!”

“Because you were assholes.” Billy said as if it were obvious.

Tommy threw his hands into the air in exasperation and turned to Steve, gesturing emphatically, the pinching of his eyebrows saying everything his mouth wasn’t. 

“Uh, Billy, you were also kind of an asshole.” Steve replied for Tommy since he was too worked up to get the words out without his voice cracking like a middle schooler’s. 

“I had a reason to be.” Billy shot back, his expression crumbling into irritated resignation almost the moment the words left his lips. 

Tommy scoffed, and Steve knew the next words out of his mouth would be the kind that started fights and that was the last thing they needed at the moment. He moved without thinking, slapping a hand over Tommy’s mouth to both their surprise. 

But in for a penny, in for a pound.

“You haven’t gotten the time to develop a ‘don’t be a bitch’ filter yet, so I’m going to do it for you, just this once.” Steve said, leaning in so he didn’t have to speak at full volume, “Before you say anything I want you to think about if it’s going to get you punched in the nose or not. If the answer is ‘yes’ pick something else.”

Tommy glared at him, and licked the inside of his palm. The sensation had Steve pulling his hand back only to wipe it off on Tommy’s already ruined polo. 

“You’re so gross! Have you seen the shit I’ve killed today? You’re gonna catch turbo-AIDS.”

Eddie snorted, earning himself a shove from Steve. 

“Thanks, Steve.” Tommy pointedly flicked his attention back to Billy who was watching the whole thing while sipping a can of coke he’d pulled from the six pack nearby, “What makes you think we didn’t also have reasons to be assholes?”

Billy scoffed, glancing at Steve for a moment before he seemed to reconsider whatever he was thinking.

“Guess I don’t know, Tommy. What was your reasoning?” He pulled his legs up so he was hugging his arms around his shins, still holding the coke by his fingertips, “Can’t think of much a rich kid with two functional parents and plenty of friends could really be that upset about.”

Eddie made a noise somewhere between agreement and comradery, but otherwise kept surprisingly quiet.

Steve squeezed Tommy’s arm from where he’d left it after wiping his hand on him. Tommy’s self control was usually dubious at best, but his self control in regards to saying some genuinely hurtful shit was virtually non-existent. Or at least it had been the last time Steve had spent any meaningful time with him.

So he was surprised when Tommy took a breath and seemed to follow Steve’s advice about thinking before he spoke.

“Probably isn’t as good as your’s, whatever the fuck that is.” Tommy shrugged, “But that’s why. Growing up that way, that’s what people think you’re supposed to be like. You’ve got everything, you’re supposed to flaunt it. Everyone likes you, you’re supposed to act like it. You’ve got people who care, then you’re supposed to be happy.”

Tommy’s face was carefully blank, the same that he used when he was being more of an asshole than he had to be and didn’t want to feel it. The one that Steve had seen every time someone told him how much of a dick he was somewhere someone else might overhear it if he ever said ‘I’m sorry.’ 

“Just how it is. Fighting it gets you thrown out with the losers, and the losers hate you because you were an asshole. Steve here knows all about that. Sucked, didn’t it?”

Steve met Tommy’s stare, pursing his lips as he nodded.

“Yeah. Got better eventually. But yeah.”

“See, I’m not like Steve. I’m not a good person deep down, and I’d much rather be comfortable than do the right thing or whatever. Especially if doing the right thing still lands you here.”

He gestured to the room at large, illustrating how they were all more or less trapped together.

For a moment they were all quiet, Tommy’s words seeming heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Steve was about to change the subject, just to dispel some of the awkwardness that had coagulated around them but Billy beat him to it.

“I’m not either.” His voice was hushed, which was just as weird as hearing Tommy being quiet, “A good person. I’m not. Could have done a million other things, didn’t. It’s easier to just….let it all happen.”

Steve was sure he’d never heard Billy volunteer information like that. Despite having fallen into frequent proximity months ago, he still felt like he barely knew the guy. He knew more about Eddie who he’d known for far less time. 

“Well if anyone’s asking me, I think you’re all assholes.” Eddie’s easy quip slid in, easing some of the tension almost effortlessly, “But the thing about assholes? If you stretch ‘em, they can grow.”

“Munson, what the fuck?” Billy leaned away from him.

“It’s true!”

“It’s fucking gross!” Tommy threw the end of a Vienna sausage at him, “Do you just say shit like that on purpose or are you actually queer?”

“If I were, you, Tommy Hagan, would be the very last person I would tell.” Eddie lobbed the corner of a poptart back at him. “Last thing this minefield of a quartet needs is homophobia.”

Tommy squinted at Eddie, “Okay now, that one pisses me off. People just assume I hate the gays just because I’m an asshole about everything else.”

“Tommy, think about what you just said for a second.”

“It’s different! Being a dick to, like, regular people is one thing. The gays have enough shit going on, with the bible thumpers. And the whole bible thing is stupid anyway! I’ve read that thing front to back like three times and the whole Sodom and Gamorah thing was about child abuse so that’s a whole lot of people admitting they can’t fucking read. Which just makes Christians look stupid so it makes me even more pissed off cause if I’m gonna look stupid I want it to at least be for a problem I do have. I can’t do trig but I can at least fucking read--”

“Tommy,” Steve pushed him gently to jar him out of the rabbit hole he’d just gone down.

Eddie was staring at him like he was the single most baffling puzzle he’d ever seen, a growing sense of amazement lighting up a smile like the sun cresting the horizon. If there was anything Eddie Munson was, it was uncomfortably perceptive. Steve knew that well enough by now, but Tommy was just about to find out.

“Well, then, in that case, yeah, I’m kinda queer.” Eddie said, casual as anything, despite Billy choking on his soda beside him.

His shrewd eyes locked onto Tommy, and Steve knew he’d be picking apart each little individual bit of his reaction and running it through whatever process in his head equated to judgement. Tommy, to his credit, while looking absolutely floored Eddie had just dropped that like it was nothing, didn’t react much more.

“Okay.” He said once he’d gotten his voice back.

“Okay?” Eddie raised both eyebrows.

“Well what do you want me to do, a backflip?” He wiggled his injured leg, “Not really on the menu right now.”

Eddie grinned and shook his head, looking absolutely delighted, “Man, meeting you two is starting to fuck with me. Cool jocks. Who would have thought?”

“Crazy what can happen when you get to actually know someone.” Steve let out the breath he’d been holding that entire conversation through. 

“Yeah, crazy.” Eddie agreed.

                                                            *

By the time they finished the second bottle of vodka it was just after nine. Reasonably they should turn in for the night but Steve was still wired from the day’s action and he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one. 

Eddie couldn’t settle at the best of times, while Billy and Tommy were tossing an orange back and forth. If Steve ignored the bloodstained rag wrapped around Tommy’s leg, and the distant sound of demobats, he could almost pretend they were having a sleep over. 

A sleepover with his ex-best friend, his rival-turned-ally, and his other rival-turned-friend.

Sure, totally normal.

“We should go to bed.” Steve suggested, mostly just so he could say he’d tried to be responsible.

“Unless you mean that in a sexy way, no. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight.” Eddie replied without looking away from the window.

If Steve could hear the demobats, he was sure Eddie could too. His leg was bouncing and every line of his body screamed ‘tension’. Normally, Steve would have sat him down beside him, pet through his hair and got him talking about something until he chilled out a bit. But given present company…

Given present company? Would they really mind? Yeah, of course they would, they’d both give Steve a metric ton of shit. But would that be it? It wasn’t like they’d beat his ass over it, Eddie had just come out like three hours ago. Maybe Steve was just too far in his own head.

“Eddie?” He called, getting the other’s attention, although not in full, “C’mere for a sec.”

Eddie turned all the way back to him, biting his bottom lip like he was trying to tear the skin off it with just his incisors. So, even more freaked out than Steve had thought. There was no way he was going to prioritize being a coward over Eddie who clearly needed his help.

He sat down beside him, just a little too close as always. Steve scooted even closer, sliding his hand into Eddie’s hair and scratching just the way he knew he liked. Almost immediately his shoulders lost some of their tension.

“So, if you’re not going to sleep, and I’m not fucking you, what should we do instead?” Steve asked, earning himself a laugh.

“How about we play something.” Tommy suggested, despite the question not being addressed to him in the least.

“Like a sleepover?” Billy huffed what almost could have been called a laugh, “What’re we, sixteen year old girls?”

“I could braid your hair too, Sunshine~” Eddie winked at him.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Like you don’t love it.” Eddie grinned right back.

Steve was surprised to see a blush rise on Billy’s cheeks, though he didn’t get to see it long before he was turning his head away.

“If you two wanna stop flirting, I was gonna say two truths and a lie. That one’s always fun.”

“Sounds great, Billy you should go first.” Eddie couldn’t help but tease.

Steve pulled on the baby hairs at the base of his neck a little, getting a hiss out of him and a poke to the side for his trouble.

“Fine.” Billy turned back to the group and held up three fingers, “I have killed a man, I will kill again, and it burns when I pee.”

Tommy looked stricken and Steve could relate. He knew at least one of those was true, although he felt obligated to argue that while Billy’s body had certainly killed someone, he himself hadn’t. Though, he supposed from Billy’s perspective that line probably didn’t feel as clear. 

“Second one’s a lie.” Eddie answered, his voice deceptively calm.

“Munson wins.” Billy laid back down and tossed the orange to himself.

“Wait, no, hold on, back it up.” Tommy mimed pumping the breaks, looking just as goofy as his dad did when he did that, “Can we talk about that first one?”

“The game was two truths and a lie, not two truths a lie and an investigation. Mind your own business Hagan.”

“Nah, man you made that my business.” 

“He didn’t kill anyone.” Steve said firmly, staring Billy down even though he wasn’t looking in his direction as though daring him to argue, “He was possessed.”

“Possessed? Like Linda Blair possessed?”

“Worse.” Billy answered shortly. 

“First monsters, now demons? How in the hell has all this shit been happening without anyone knowing until the town literally split in half?” Tommy blinked, his head reeling back as he tried to make that make sense, “You’re good now though, right? Not possessed anymore?”

“Mostly.” Billy answered cryptically.

“I’m trying really hard not to flip a shit here, and you’re really not fucking helping Hargrove.”

“I don’t know how else to put it. It’s not in me anymore, but I can still feel where it was. I can still hear it, if it’s close. I can still do some of the things it could. Still don’t feel hum--” Billy cut himself off abruptly.

Eddie and Steve locked eyes across the circle. Later, they’d deal with that later.

“How about we play something else?” Steve suggested.

                                                          *

“This one is easy.” Steve explained, “We go in a circle, we say things we haven’t done and if you’ve done the thing someone is saying, you put a finger down. Last one to put all their fingers down, wins.”

“This is stupid.” Billy grumbled for the third time.

“But you’re still playing~” Eddie leaned over to bump his shoulder to Billy’s. 

The blonde didn’t reply.

“I’ll go first this time.” Tommy all but decided, “Hmmm, never have I ever gone skydiving.”

None of them put a finger down, if anything Billy just stared at Tommy as though he could make him pick up his disapproval like radio waves.

“Right,” Steve thought for a moment, “Never have I ever dyed my hair.”

Eddie and Billy both put a finger down while he and Tommy kept their ten.

“Oooh what color?” Eddie eagerly asked.

Billy hesitated a long moment before answering, “Pink.”

Eddie’s head tilted as his smile stretched wider, “You’d look good in pink, sunshine.” 

Billy rolled his eyes, “Never have I ever voluntarily worn a polo shirt.”

“Targeted!” Tommy whined, putting a finger down as Steve shook his head and did the same.

“I’m trying to win, Hangman. Skydiving? Seriously?”

Tommy paused at the use of his old nickname. Steve hadn’t thought Billy knew that one, given that Tommy had gotten it years before he’d come to town. Hangman Hagan, they’d called him for years, because fucking with him was tantamount to a social death sentence. Tommy had never been one to simply get even, no, when he set about to ruin someone, he ruined them. As inescapable as the hangman.

It seemed to have flipped a switch in him, Steve could see the moment his competitive nature lit up in his eyes.

“Alright, Sunshine, let’s go then.”

“It’s Munson’s turn.” Billy smirked back, nodding his head over at him.

God help them, Eddie was wearing the same damn smile. As much as Steve cared about them each individually (and wasn’t that a thought), he hoped they never hung out like this again. It was too much chaos per square inch, if this kept up something would end up on fire, he just knew it. 

“Okay, never have I ever played basketball.”

Steve, Tommy, and Billy all put a finger down. 

“Low blow Munson.”

“Really, not even once?”

“No wonder you can’t run for more than three minutes!”

“Your turn, Van Hagan.” Eddie said around his shit eating grin.

“Fine, you wanna throw cheap shots? Never have I ever kissed a guy.”

Eddie made a face and put down a finger. But so did Steve, and so too did Billy.

“All of--”

“Put a finger down, Tommy.” And God help him now Steve was smiling too, couldn’t help it.

Now it was Eddie’s turn to toss his hands in the air and shout a the top of his lungs.

“I knew it!” He barked as Tommy put a finger down, “Birds of a feather, every fuckin’ time!”

“I’ve got to admit I’m surprised that all of us have.” Steve said, much more calmly than he felt, because all of them had kissed a guy before. If he thought about that for more than a few seconds at a time, he might actually implode.

Eddie’s head whipped over to Billy who was looking anywhere other than the group. He hadn’t tried to take back his answer, however, so that was encouraging.

“I’ve gotta know, who?” Eddie asked the room at large.

“Tommy, duh.” Steve replied as though it were obvious, “How else would I have caught that?”

Eddie nodded, still smiling like an idiot, “Right, yeah, good point.”

“Steve.” Tommy answered, “And, uh,” His eyes flicked over to Billy and Steve almost choked on his tongue.

“Seriously?! When?!” He managed to get out, though his voice sounded like he was being strangled.

Eddie laughed so hard he ended up wiggling around on the floor, pure joy erupting from him. 

“Like, right after he got here? We met at a party before we met at school.”

“Crystal’s party? The one I was sick for? The one with that hot blonde that you wouldn’t stop talking about for a week? The hot blonde you met was Billy?”

“Uh huh.” 

“You talked about me?” Billy’s smile rode the line between the genuine one Steve had seen glimpses of recently and the trashy smirk he’d worn all through high school.

Tommy’s face was beet red, “Might’ve.” He muttered.

“Sounds like you had a torch burning. What changed?”

“You talked.”

Eddie had been half way to sitting up but immediately lost the battle.