#eddie falls first steve falls harder

[hairmetal666]

Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

[farfaras]

listen i do appreciate the headcanon that eddie’s had a crush on steve since high school, or that he started liking steve during the UD shenanigans. HOWEVER, i sometimes like to think about the idea that he just shrugged steve off during high school, just like steve didn’t pay any attention to eddie. it’s not like they disliked each other, they were just indifferent. eddie having some kind of disdain towards jocks anyway.

after st4 they start becoming friends. steve having robin as a friend, doesn’t struggle to accept his sexuality as much as one would think. ‘i love you just the way you are, so i should love this part of myself too’. so he notices that he has a crush on eddie, and he’s like ‘no big deal, i can be normal about this, i’ll get over it’. he doesn’t get over it.

eddie just thinks he gained another friend. he’s been aware of his sexuality, on the back of his mind but has never allowed himself to fully have a crush on someone when he knows it’d never go anywhere, it’s hawkins. so he GENUINELY just sees steve as a friend, treats him as such too.

they come out to each other, after robin comes out to eddie.

after that steve thinks that if he starts flirting a little then he’ll know if there’s a chance eddie likes him back. eddie, bless his heart, is oblivious to it. he’s never had anyone flirt with him, give him some slack. steve is disappointed when eddie just continues to treat him as one of his buddies. pining and angst unfolds, until steve finds out he actually fell in love with eddie and the man seems to only look at him as a friend.

the way eddie realizes he likes steve isn’t even when steve’s flirting with him (that he only realized after putting things into perspective). it’s when the party is having some argument about the current campaign, eddie looks over to find steve with his eyebrows furrowed and trying his very hardest to understand what’s going on. his chest fills with so much fondness. it’s such a simple thing, but that’s when it clicks for him. after that he just keeps falling.

SO,

steve falls first, but eddie falls harder.

[steviesbicrisis]

A lot of things start to make sense since Eddie Munson enters his life.

It goes from the simple things: Eddie patiently explaining the mechanics of D&D so that Dustin would stop using the references against him; Eddie teaching him a few music facts and history, “did you know that Tony Iommi once blew up Richard Branson’s prize carp? Fucking Metal if you ask me”; Eddie helping him fix the drain in his new apartment “with all of your hair you never had to unclog it? You’re such a princess”.

But it’s more than that. Eddie also helps him figure out things about himself.

Like, he can be friends with someone without having that much in common, he’s that type of person who would drop everything he’s doing if someone he cared about would ask it, and also that, apparently, he has a type.

«You clearly have a thing for nerds,» Eddie tells him one day, teasingly.

«What? I definitely don’t!» Steve is outraged that he would even suggest that «I tolerate nerds because for some reason I’m surrounded by them.»

«Oh please! You just told me about your embarrassing crush on Robin, a huge nerd, smart, was in band, and knows like- ten languages. Then there’s Wheeler, also smart, also one of the biggest nerds that Hawkins has ever seen. Don’t let me even touch on the fact that you’re surrounded by baby nerds all the time» Eddie blinds him with a victorious grin «this is why all your other dates go to shit, Harrington. Trust me, date a nerd for a change.»

Steve wants to bite back and prove him wrong but, after Eddie says it, he can’t help think back to his dating history and everything makes sense.

Once again, Eddie helps him figure things out about himself.

But the biggest revelation Eddie helps him out with, comes only after.

Steve finds himself thinking more about this “nerd thing”, and his mind can’t help but go to Eddie himself. He’s a huge nerd, and he has become a big part of his life.

He finds himself noticing small things about him, like what rings he wears on which finger, how he styles his hair depending on his mood, how he smiles when the kids are close to figuring out the plot twists of his campaign, and especially how he always manages to have some sort of physical contact with him, whether by putting an arm on his shoulder, leaning closer to listen to what he’s talking about or grabbing his wrist to get his attention.

He has never been more aware of Eddie’s presence than now, it makes him jumpy but also, he notices, he waits for it, he wants any type of physical contact with him, and even a quick brush on his arm is enough to make his stomach flutter.

And Steve is not stupid. He might be a little oblivious, he might’ve been taught the wrong things -how queer people are the menace of society and how there’s nothing worse than being called “fag” for a man- but he’s been Robin’s best friend for so long that he knows better now.

And he also knows how he feels when he has a crush on someone.

The only option for him is to talk to Robin about it, both of them are surprised at how well Steve is taking it.

Well, he does cry a little bit, he tells Robin that he’s scared, he even tells her that he doesn’t want it, this new part of him that people would not accept him for. She understands, and she’s there every step of Steve’s sexual crisis until he just accepts it.

As if going through a bisexual crisis wasn’t enough, Steve finds himself going through another rite of passage for queer people: falling for a straight person.

Steve and Robin are working their shift at Family Video when a very excited Eddie Munson comes in «Harrington, give me your best romantic crap movie!»

«Eddie Munson, renting a romantic movie? Did aliens abduct you and brainwash you this morning?»

«Ah-ha, very funny! But I can’t do Star Wars on a first date, doesn’t set the right mood. You should know that better than me, lover boy.»

Steve wishes he had prepared himself more for the time Eddie would’ve talked about dating, but he didn’t and now he’s standing there at the counter, completely frozen, doing his best to not let his face fall right in front of his first boy crush. At least, the first one he’s aware of.

«Woah, really? I’m sorry for whoever the unlucky date is» Robin intercepts, and Steve could really kiss her for always knowing how to help him.

Steve can only estrange himself from the conversation, as Eddie is describing this “super hot girl” who is “way out of my league”. Robin ends up being the one helping him with the movie and Steve pretends to be busy with inventory in the back.

Robin comes to find him once Eddie is gone «I gave him the worst romantic movie I could think of.»

Steve chuckles and hugs her tight «thank you.»

Out of all the things Eddie has helped him out with, Steve wishes he would also teach him how to fall out of love with him.

[TBD: I'm fixing it I promise!! Sorry for the straight Eddie content guys lmao]

Part 2 | Part 3

[hawkinsbnbg]

In a different universe where every unusual event on Earth was broadcasted as reality TV shows on the other planets, the Upside Down was real and so were everyone in Stranger Things.

Given the impressive feedback from the audiences, Galaxy Television (GTV)—officially known as Galaxy Radio and Television Station—decided to make things more interesting by assigning narrators to some of the shows' characters.

It was soon proved to be the right decision as GTV took off to become the trending station of the Nine Planets. And naturally, characters narrating became a highly sought-after job.

Eddie was a narrator from Alapus IV, a small planet that was two thousand light years away from Earth.

He was new to the job and had many colleagues warned him about getting attached to his character, but so far, he was quite certain that it wouldn't be the case.

Because his assigned character was Steve Harrington—a spoiled rich kid, a dumb jock, and probably a douchebag with all that privileges.

He loathed King Steve to the point that he usually talked shit about Steve whenever it was his turn in the story.

"See? This asshole decided to be an ass again, but why am I surprised? It's his default setting after all."

Then, the plot thickened and Steve got his redemption arc. And oh boy was Eddie so pissed the entire time.

"Steve Harrington was actually a good dude? You've gotta be kidding me. No way man, no way. That flies right in the face of the laws of the universe and my own personal doctrine."

Turned out, Steve was actually a good dude and handsome as hell every time he charged head-first into danger to save people.

The more Eddie accompanied Steve throughout the story, the less annoyed he sounded when he narrated Steve's parts.

He even felt heartbroken when Steve started opening up to Robin and telling her more about his home life, which wasn't as perfect as it had been perceived. That, and how Steve was always starved for affection no matter what kind it was.

Moments like those always made Eddie feel helpless. He wanted to leave the recording booth and flew straight to Earth to protect Steve away all the pain and sadness.

But it was impossible because not only Eddie was too far away from him, but also Steve would be dead long before Eddie could arrive.

In the end, after Steve sacrificed himself for his friends, Eddie had to take three months leave to mourn for the boy he had foolishly fallen in love with.

[hellfirenacht]

Candygram

Summary: It's Valentine's day and you shoot your shot with Eddie by sending him a Candygram.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, fluff, sfw

4.8k Words Master List

“Just do it.”  Robin said, following your line of sight to the booth in the corner of the Hawkins cafeteria. It was a simple table with a red cloth thrown over it and a handmade banner that read ‘CANDYGRAMS $1’ and was decorated with tacky hearts. 

Every time you glanced over at the booth, your heart would start pounding and your stomach would twist in knots. You had never considered yourself to be shy before, when you first moved to Hawkins a few years ago, Robin had joked that you didn’t need a welcome wagon because you had thrown yourself into band and had introduced yourself to everyone with ease. 

You had masked your anxiety over being the new kid with an overinflated sense of confidence and it had worked out really well for you until you caught feelings for the freak who sat next to you in remedial science. 

“I think... I would rather chug formaldehyde.” you said slowly, staring so hard at the offensively pink and red booth that Robin was sure it was going to catch flames. 

“Either go up there and buy a candygram or I’m going to do it for you.” Robin said. “If I have to hear you waffle about this for one more day I’m gonna rip my hair out.” 

“But if I send him one, then he might actually acknowledge me and realize I might have something resembling a feeling for him, and that’s just not really cool, you know? Goes against my chill and mysterious personality.” you said, leaning back on your chair with a cocky grin. 

“Last night I saw you and Steve cry over Bambi.” Robin deadpans. 

“Okay, so we were drunk and also shut up.” you snorted, rubbing your face. 

“How are you going to know if there’s anything there if you don’t even take the chance?” Robin scolds. “Come one, I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’m surprised the whole school doesn’t know-”

“Again, cool and mysterious personality.” you tried again. 

“Plus I know he’s just as weird as you.” Robin continued, ignoring you. “I mean, last week I saw him get Jason Carver to back off one of the freshmen by pretending to exercise a demon out of him!”

You stared at Robin for a beat before thunking your head on the lunch table. “I’m going to marry him. Holy shit, he actually tried to expel the demon lurking in Carver?” You were laughing at the thought. 

During your first senior year and his second, Eddie Munson had caught your eye when you had the same lunch period. He was loud and energetic and so fucking weird you couldn’t help but to be drawn to him. Had your parents not forced you to stick with band, you would have considered joining Hellfire. Unfortunately even with this last go-round as a super senior, they still made you stick with it despite your senioritis reaching terminal levels.

You never had a good opportunity to talk to him, and the more time passed the harder it became to justify just randomly approaching him. This semester you finally had your opportunity when you’d been put in the same class and sitting next to each other no less. Still, the most you’d been able to say was “yeah, sure” when he’d asked you for a pencil once. 

Four weeks sitting next to Eddie, and you had barely spoken to him while noticing every little thing about him. He read a lot in class when he could get away with it, and doodled in his notebooks constantly, especially dice and dragons seemed to be the biggest theme. His school notebook wasn’t nearly as filled in as his Hellfire notebook, and he was always fidgeting in class. He also didn’t talk much, and at least once a week he’d end up falling asleep in class with his head in his hand. 

“There’s not gonna be a wedding if you can’t even talk to the guy.” Robin said. “He’s not even scary! Dustin comes in to talk to Steve all the time about Hellfire. He’s just a dork.”

“I know and that’s the problem.” your voice was a strangled laugh mixed with a groan. 

“You showed up the first day of band and introduced yourself to everyone, even if they weren’t in your section. What is the hold up with you talking to Eddie?” Robin pried. 

“Because back then, it didn’t matter.” You looked over at Robin, poking at your mystery meat. “When I first got here it didn’t matter if anyone liked me or not. I was only supposed to be in this school for a few months and then graduate. Then I didn’t. I could handle it if someone didn’t like me. None of you were really supposed to matter to me. No offense.”

Thankfully, Robin didn’t seem offended. “You were just making nice with the inmates until parole.” she joked and you nodded. 

“Yup, and then when I realized that I was going to have to actually have a full other year of school, that meant that I was going to have to care if I was ever gonna graduate.” You continued. “Luckily you saw through all my bullshit bravado and started dragging me to movie nights with you and Steve.” 

“Yeah yeah, we love friendship. So what does any of this have to do with Eddie?” Robin said, not needing you to explain the backstory that she had been present for. 

“It means that with Mr. Munson, I unfortunately, care so fucking much what he thinks of me.” you relented. “He’s the biggest freak in school, and the dorkiest loser, and if I try and talk to him and he’s not interested in talking back I won’t be able to take it. Robin, I will simply lay down and be dead for the rest of my life.”

“That’s not how that works, you can’t be dead for the rest of your life.” She shook her head, her brows furrowed. “Because if you’re dead then... you’re not alive”

“Schrodinger's corpse then. Alive and dead at the same time.” 

“Look, just send him the stupid candygram. The worst he can do is say no.” She stood up from the table and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go.”

And that’s how you ended up at the booth, jotting down Eddie’s name on a piece of paper and shoving a few quarters in the till with Robin looking smug. “I doubt he’s ever gotten one anyway, if anything he should be thrilled that someone wanted to send him one.”

“If this kills me, Steve’s in charge of the music at my funeral.” you sighed. 

---

Candygrams were being handed out and delivered through the week. You weren’t paying attention to what period they were supposed to be handed out, and so when two students in obnoxious heart shirts and fake wings burst into your science class with Eddie right next to you, you were about ready to throw yourself out a window. 

No one was surprised when Janet and Charlie were tossed a few candygrams, but everyone’s head whipped around when the red heart shaped lollipop and card was set on Eddie Munson’s desk. Eddie himself seemed more surprised than anyone. 

He had the lollipop in his mouth before he even opened the note attached and you were seconds away from bolting out the door. With any luck, maybe he didn’t know your name even after weeks of sitting next to each other. 

“Who’s it from, freak?” asked Patrick, the basketball jock who sat a few rows ahead. That earned a few snickers from the class. 

“It’s from your mom.” Eddie said without missing a beat and taking out the lollipop. “Tell her I say thanks.”

More laughter from the class as Patrick stood up as if ready to fight, but the teacher quickly told him to sit down. 

Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You felt a bit guilty that your candygram had kicked up a fuss, but at least Eddie didn’t out you as the person who sent it to him. In fact he wasn’t looking over at you at all. 

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he flipped the card around, as if looking for something. All that was written was his name and “YOU’RE SWEET!” written in cheesy font and his name scribbled in your handwriting. 

And nothing else. 

You didn’t know if you should laugh or cry at your stupidity. You’d been so jumbled and nervous that you’d forgotten to sign the damn thing. Robin was gonna have a field day with this one. 

Eddie kept fidgeting with the card through the rest of class, twisting it and bending it until it was as crumpled and torn as your heart felt. He shoved it in his pocket and didn’t even glance at you as the bell rang and he stood up and tossed the eaten lollipop stick in the trash. 

It’s not personal. You told yourself. He has no idea who sent it to him.

That’s when you had a horrible idea, so stupid it might actually work. 

---

“Explain how this is going to work again?” Robin asked. “You’re going to keep sending him lollipops this week until he notices you?” 

“Sort of.” you said, buying another candygram. “I’ll just send him a few joke ones as a feeler and if he responds positively I’ll come clean. If not, I keep my dignity. It’s a win-win.”

“Since when do you care about your dignity?” Robin sorted. 

“Since I caught feelings for the least dignified guy in school, I guess.” You knew it was stupid, you knew it was ridiculous, but you already messed up once so you might as well lean into it. You scribbled his name down, this time signing it with a satisfied giggle. “This is so dumb.”

Oh, but it was so worth it. You had bought it before school started, guaranteeing that it’d be delivered the same day, handing over a crisp dollar to Nancy Wheeler who had volunteered for the booth. If Eddie had been surprised the first time, he looked almost shocked now.

Eddie, sorry I forgot to sign the first one! This card said, once again not giving away any sign of who it was actually from. You saw his eye sparkle in amusement as he ate his lollipop, and this time the card was read over a few times before being carefully tucked into his dungeon master notebook. 

By the third day, the novelty of Eddie Munson getting candygrams had worn off with the rest of your class, but Eddie’s grin only grew wider each time. 

“Anything for me, Cupid?” Eddie asked as the student council members walked back in to hand out more lollipops. 

He whooped as another one was dropped on his desk and he snatched up the card quickly and you had to cover your face and bite your lip to stop yourself from giggling at his excitement. 

Eddie, sorry I’m so bad at remembering to sign these things! I just get way too excited about sending them out that I lose focus. So anyway this card is actually from-

You had carefully spaced out your writing on the small rectangle of paper so that it left absolutely no room for you to sign your name. Eddie looked downright giddy as he read the note over and over. Seeing him so happy made your stomach burst into butterflies and even if he decided after this he wasn’t interested, this was enough. Knowing that he was smiling because of you was enough. 

Someone said your name and you looked up, surprised to see one of the student council members standing next to you and handing you a candygram. Your eyebrows shot up as you took it with a thanks and opened up the card. 

Who had sent one to you? You’d been so wrapped up in your little scheme you didn’t even consider that someone would try and send you one either. 

A smile tugged at your lips as you saw your name and a small drawing of what looked like an egg in a nest as the sender. Robin, of course. Probably making fun of you for sending candygrams to Eddie without signing either. 

You tucked the candygram in your own notebook safely and dared a glance over at Eddie again. You hadn’t expected for him to be looking back at you, and your heart jumped in your chest. He unwrapped his lollipop and lifted it slightly as if he was trying to toast. You held yours up as well to him, an off sense of camaraderie between two people who had their day temporarily disturbed for commercialized love. 

Thursday came around, Valentine's day proper, but they’d be doing one last day of candygrams on Friday as well. This was a fundraiser after all, and capitalism trumps any semblance of real sincerity. Well, you said that but that wasn’t exactly going to stop you from continuing your little plan. 

Today was the day you were going to pull out the big guns. You handed over a full $5 to have a carnation sent to Eddie, as well as a return to sender card to Robin for being a good friend. 

“Shouldn’t he be the one sending you a flower?” Nancy asked, handing you the card to write on. You wondered how Nancy had time for all of the extracurricular activities she had going on, working with the student council and the school newspaper. 

You just shrugged at the question, not realizing how wide you were smiling or how obviously warm your cheeks were. To anyone with two eyes, you were glowing and to anyone with one eye, you were phosphorescent. 

The disinterest that your classmates had from the last two rounds perked back up with a flower was delivered to Eddie that afternoon. 

“For little old me?” Eddie said, batting his eyelashes at the delivery boy as he took the carnation. You giggled to yourself as he opened the card again. 

Man, I’m bad at this aren’t I? Don’t worry, this time I’m writing very small so I have room to sign this card. Seeing you light up when these get delivered has made my whole week, and totally worth it. Anyway this is from- 

To be fair, you had actually signed your name this time. However this time you had made an attempt to erase it with one of those erasers. The horrible stiff ones that only made big smudges and made the mistake worse and nearly tore through the paper. You had carefully looked at your smudged signature for a long time before deciding it was illegible enough to send. 

Eddie faked a swoon in his seat, nearly toppling over onto the floor. “Come on!” he laughed, pushing himself back upright, smiling with his whole face. He looked over the note again, something clicking in his brain and you quickly looked down at the book you were currently pretending to read. 

“It’s someone in here.” you heard him mutter to himself and your heart started pounding in your chest. You focused on your breathing to try and stop yourself from giggling and giving yourself away. 

“Stop sending yourself stuff, Munson. It’s pathetic.” Patrick called out. 

“If you wanted me to be your Valentine, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask nicely.” Eddie said, but he sounded distracted as his eyes scanned the room for any hint of who this mysterious person is. “And next time, I’m more than happy with just the lollipop, it’s saving me on smokes.”

You didn’t even notice the lollipop on your desk until class had started back up. Unfolding the card you smiled to yourself, seeing that it was from Robin again. This time the egg in the nest had a crack in it and seemed to be hatching. You’d ask her about it later. 

Nothing said during the rest of class even registered with you, every word was in one ear and out the other. This had been a fun week sending Eddie all the lollipops and flowers but tomorrow was the last day to have something sent to him. 

Were you going to sign your name? That’s the million dollar question. You had told Robin that you would if Eddie seemed interested, and he had made it clear he was enjoying the attention. 

But would he still enjoy the attention if he learned it was from you? You two weren’t exactly friends, but not complete strangers either. He didn’t seem to dislike you, after all he’d raised a toast with you with your lollipops the other day. 

Well, if you were gonna put yourself out there, you were gonna do it on your own terms.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Robin said that Friday morning as you dropped a handful of ones on the table for one last hurrah. 

“Nope, I’ve committed.” you said, taking the small stack of cards and getting to work. 

“I’m going to have you committed.” Robin shook her head. “I mean, this is actually insane, you know that right? There’s no reason to go through all this trouble, when you could just talk to him.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, Buckley?” you asked, as you added one letter of your name to each of the cards. “Gotta make him work for it.”

“So you’re gonna give him a Valentine's themed word jumble as your big sign off?” 

“Yup.” you confirmed, adding his name to each of the cards. He’d get them all in one go and then it’s up to him to unscramble your name and figure it out. 

After that... well, the ball is in his court. 

Besides, if he liked the lollipops enough that he’d reach for one instead of a cigarette then that’s good enough. 

“You’re such a weirdo. You deserve each other.” Robin went on. “The Weirdo and the Freak. It’s like Beauty and the Beast except.. Not.”

“Robin, don’t you know three languages?” you snorted finishing up your stack and handing them over to be sent. “You are so much smarter than me, but this is where you lose words?”

“It’s Friday and I haven’t had coffee.” she pointed out. “Oh, thanks for sending me one by the way.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean you sent me one so I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging.” you nudged her playfully. 

“I didn’t send you one.” Robin looked at you, confused. 

“What?” You reached into your backpack and pulled out the notebook where you had placed the card and handed it to her. “But that’s a robin’s egg...?”

“It’s an egg, probably.” Robin agreed. “But I’m broke. I didn’t send any out.” 

You stared at the card with new eyes. If she didn’t send it, then who did?

---

“Holy shit.” Eddie muttered as a bag of lollipops was dumped on his desk with no rhyme or reason, earning a round of laughter and snickers from the class. The teacher had long since given up on trying to keep the class’s attention when the Cupid’s showed up. 

He sorted through the cards, a puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the different letters on the cards until he found one that had real words on it. 

Figure it out, Sucker <3 Eddie’s face was a wonderful mixture of amusement, bewilderment, and mild offense. 

One of the Cupid’s handed you another two lollipops as well. One was actually signed by one of your friends in band, and the other had another doodle of an egg. This time the egg was completely hatched and there was some sort of weird bird flying off. 

Not a robin. You decided, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be. 

You barely paid attention in class for the rest of the hour, your attention split between the three egg Valentines you received and the man next to you. Eddie had pulled out his Dungeon Master notebook to try and decode your message. You felt flattered that he was using his favored notebook to try and figure out your puzzle. 

Eddie was sucking on one of the lollipops diligently as he scribbled down random letters. Now that you thought about it, you’d never seen him look so studious in class before. You wondered if this is what he looked like when he was working on his campaigns and your brain decided to give you a treat of a daydream where the two of you were sitting around in your room while he explained his campaign and how he’d love to have someone like you join Hellfire-

It was three minutes before the bell, and that meant just a few minutes until your last period and the weekend. With Valentine’s day falling in the middle of the week, most of your friends were going to be off doing things with their partners. Maybe you, Robin, and Steve- no wait, Steve actually got dates. Robin worked on the weekend. 

Maybe Eddie- NOPE. Not going there, you were not about to get your hopes up for this. 

You glanced over at him again, looking at his notebook to see if he was anywhere close to decoding your name. Eddie had the worst handwriting you’d ever seen and so you would be surprised if he could even figure out his own notes. Between unjumbling your letters, he had started doodling in the margins. You assumed that they were D&D monsters from the look of it, since none of them looked like actual animals except for the bats in the corner. 

The only other thing you recognized was a dragon, drawn in a larger scale on the side of the page. It’s wings were expanded and it was flying off, and from this angle it looked like a weird...

It looked like some bird

Some sort of weird bird

Your head snapped back down to the card in front of you. This wasn’t a weird bird. It was a dragon. A dragon hatching from an egg. An egg that hatched a dragon. A dragon that was drawn with the same pose as the one in Eddie’s notebook. Eddie’s notebook had your dragon no wait, your card had his dragon-

Eddie Munson had sent you the cards. 

Eddie had-

“Oh.” You said out loud. You were nearly fighting back hysterical laughter at this, and you pressed your hands against your face, with your shoulder shaking with repressed laughter. 

Why the hell had Eddie sent you those cards? The two of you had barely spoken to each other!

 You did the same damn thing, dipshit. You reminded yourself. In fact you had gone way harder than he had. But what did this MEAN? 

The bell rang and everyone scrambled to get out of the classroom, and before you could say anything, Eddie was off and running out of the classroom at the speed of light. 

What was that about?

Robin was right. If you were ever going to have a chance with him, you were going to suck it up and talk to him, even if it meant possibly embarrassing yourself. Plus, finding out why he sent you three candygrams was currently trumping any fear of rejection. Curiosity killed the cat, but at least he died satisfied. You’re pretty sure how that saying went at least. 

You knew that Eddie had Hellfire today, it was Friday and he and all of his friends had been running around in their club shirts. With a deep breath you...realized you had no idea where the hell they actually met. 

This whole thing could have been planned better, actually. 

You started walking around the school blindly for any sign of the signature baseball tee that they all wore. If you found one of them, they were sure to lead you to Eddie. God, you felt like a stalker. 

There. Long dark curls against a stark white shirt with black sleeves. Your heart leapt in your chest, and you had to make the choice now. 

“E... Eddie! Wait up!” you called out, walking quickly towards him. 

When he turned around to look at you, you felt the air disappear from your lungs. How was it possible for him to be so beautiful and why the fuck did no one in this school seem to notice? 

Eddie pulled the lollipop he’d been sucking on out of his mouth, surprised to see you. 

“Hey.” he said. “Uh... you sit next to me in class.” 

He was either playing dumb, or you were about to make an ass of yourself. But, like Robin asked, since when do you care about dignity?

You reached into your bag and pulled out the candygrams that had been sent to you and holding them out. 

To your relief he gave you a bashful smile. “Guess you caught me, huh?” he asked. “You solved my Valentine’s puzzle.” 

“I have a pretty high intelligence when I apply myself.” you said, which only made him grin wide. “But I gotta say, Munson. I’m actually a little disappointed. I mean, sadistic and scary dungeon master of the Hellfire club, and this is the best puzzle you could come up with?”

He crossed his arms and took a step towards you. “Well, I don’t know you as well as I’d like.” he said, and your stomach erupted into butterflies. “Had to start somewhere.” 

“I guess I had to be sneaky and pay attention to you to figure it out. You’re hard not to notice, you know.” you admitted, crossing your arms as well to mimic him. 

“Being The Freak means I fail most stealth checks.” he shrugged. 

“High charisma though.” you threw out there, hoping that line would land and to your delight it did.

“It’s the Munson Magic. I come by it naturally.” Eddie’s smile was so wide it was cheesy but shit, it was working on you. 

“Not great intelligence though.” you smirked at him. 

“Oh? And how do you figure that?” He looked a little offended now, and you saw his shoulder stiffen as if he was waiting for this to suddenly go south. 

“Spell my name, Eddie.” 

You could see the lightbulb go off in his mind and his eyes widened. 

“You- wait, you were the one who kept sending me the cards?” Eddie looked nothing short of bewildered and ecstatic. You had a feeling that if things went well, you wouldn’t have to worry about ever knowing what he was thinking as he wore every emotion on his sleeve. 

“Surprise?” you asked, playing with the strap of your backpack. 

Eddie licked his lips, chasing the last of the flavor of the sucker he’d been eating. He looked at you, as if searching for something, and you cut in before he had the chance to find it. 

“Do you want to hang out sometime?” you asked, a little louder than you meant to. “Like, just us.”

“Do you think you can handle a date with The Freak?” Eddie asked, standing a little straighter. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, and I promise the worst of them are true.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Eddie, I’ve always wanted to join Hellfire.” you smirked. “I’m sure there are worse things for a first date than sacrificing someone to Satan, or summoning demons, or joining a cult.”

“I’m a gentleman, I would never ask a lady to summon demons on the first date. That’s at least a third date activity.” Eddie held his hand to his heart and raised a hand as if making an oath. 

Oh yeah, you were going to marry him. You were already picturing proposing to him and taking him away from this town. 

“Then how about dinner at Benny’s?” you suggested. “Burgers and shakes on me and you can tell me more about Hellfire and dragons and I can give you a spelling lesson.”

Eddie ran his ringed fingers through his hair and you giggled as the rings got snagged and he struggled to untangle them. 

“It’s.. a date then.” he said, but it came out as more of a question, as if he was asking if this was really happening. 

“A date.” You agreed, handing him your number, having come prepared. 

As you began to walk away, he called out after you. 

“Wait! You said you wanted to check out Hellfire, right?” Eddie said and you turned to look at him. “I’m... I’m actually running a one shot tonight. Kind of beginner friendly enough. I don’t often do this in the middle of the semester but one of our usuals dropped out because he had a date so... we have an open seat at the table. If you think you can handle it.”

Your smile widened as you walked over to him. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

Eddie offered his arm to you, as if he were a gentleman which you took eagerly. 

“So... how do you actually spell your name?” 

---

Dear Reader, I hope you have the easiest name to spell because that would make this fic at least 3% funnier. Also, I'm proud I got this done before Valentine's day because I never even finished my Halloween or Christmas fic. Be proud of me.

Please reblog if you enjoyed it <3

Tag List: @gagasbee, @ihaventgotaclue-really @tastefullyferal @anonymouskiwi @hellfiredarling

[corrodedcorpses]

Steve “cant control his boners” Harrington getting so turned on by you in a bikini at the lake he has to find a spot behind a tree to jackoff

(Anon thank you so much for this. This is the first thing I’ve finished in months AND my first ever Steve fic without Eddie 🥺🖤)

18+ MDNI

Oh my mind instantly went to slightly Perv!Steve

He totally didn’t overhear you and your friends talking about going to the lake this weekend at lunch on Friday and it’s absolutely a coincidence that he happens to run into you and your friends while he’s out there “to take a dip, take his mind of things, get back with nature” and whatever other smooth line falls from his lips as he gives you his trademark flirty Harrington smirk, running his fingers through his hair in a way he knows you love.

It’s all going great for Steve, he’s chatting you up, making you blush and giggle, you’re both in your own little world, until your friends interrupt you both. Teasing you two about actually going for a swim, you know, the reason you all came here in the first place.

That’s when things start to get a little harder for Steve.

He watches you shimmy out of your shorts, your ass bouncing slightly and he swears his jaw must be on the floor. Your bikini bottoms hugging your curves perfectly, slightly digging into the plush of your ass. Whatever blood had rushed to Steve’s cheeks quickly goes south as you rip your shirt over your head, your boobs jiggling as you do, your bikini top digging in just as much as your bottoms.

You look at Steve expectantly and he realises he’s still fully clothed.

“Oh, I-um,” Steve starts to stutter, shit. He has to get out of here, he can feel his pants tightening by the second and knows he’s going to be nothing but a stuttering mess and very ‘un-smooth’, if he stays.

He mumbles out some half assed excuse about “the time getting away from him” or “forgetting something important he has to do”, honestly he’s not really sure as he turns on his heels and quickly makes his way back through the forest, leaving you staring at him confused as you watch him leave. You don’t have time to mull over it too much when you hear your friends calling your name as you turn and start to walk into the lake.

Steve stops a little bit into the forest, ducking behind a tree and resting his back against it as he screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back against it as he curses himself. He fully intends to get back to his car at least before taking care of his problem but he knows he’s not going anywhere when he hears the half giggle - half squeal that you let out as your friend splashes you, the sound making his dick twitch.

He groans as he cups and squeezes himself through his shorts. He ducks out from behind the tree, moving a couple of trees over so he can get the perfect view of you while still being concealed by the trees.

Steve quickly shoves his shorts down enough to free himself, his cock slapping his stomach as he quickly spits on his palm before he tightly wraps his fingers around his cock. The sight before him has all sensible thoughts leaving his head, not even caring at this moment if anyone happens to walk past him.

You’re in the lake up to your thighs, goosebumps erupting on your skin as the cold water laps around you, your skin slightly glistening from when your friends must have splashed you.

He follows the water droplets as they run down in between your breasts. He has to bite down on his fist to stop from moaning as he swears he can see your hard nipples through your bikini top.

You move further into the water, Steve’s hand speeding up slightly frustrated as he loses sight of some of your body.

He makes a frustrated sound when you dip under the water but audibly gasps when you pop back up, your hair wet and your head tilted back. He imagines being on his knees in front of you, getting to taste you as you throw your head back exactly like that.

That thought has precum dripping down his cock and mixing with his saliva as he feels his stomach tighten, the image so vivid in his head he swears he can almost taste your juices on the tip of his tongue. He’s embarrassingly close already, his hips rutting into his fist as he very softly whines your name over and over again.

You shiver again, wrapping your arms around yourself, causing your boobs to squish together, accentuating your cleavage perfectly and oh god he’s going to cum already.

Steve can’t get the image of cumming all over your boobs out of his head as he feels himself make a mess all over his hand and the leaves and sticks below him.

He softly whines and groans as he cums harder and faster than he has in a long time. His mind only filled with thoughts of you.

Realisation hits Steve like a truck as he opens his eyes to see the mess he’s made. He curses as he quickly tucks himself back in his pants, wiping his hand on a nearby bush and his shorts before quickly dashing back to his car without looking back. Shaking his head at himself as he mumbles about being such an idiot to himself.

But, if he had looked back at you he would’ve seen you staring right at his not so inconspicuous hiding spot with a satisfied smirk on your face.

(Tagging some mutuals that might be interested @wroteclassicaly @andvys @littledemondani @usedtobecooler @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiemunsonspantschain @screammunson @ilovecupcakesandtea @mysticmunson @cursedyuta @ghost-proofbaby @munsonsgirl71 @pxrxcxa @solarluvs )

[flowercrowngods]

it's yearning steddie get high with the others and make out about it hours (smut-ish)

Eddie hates being reminded that making promises to himself, and only himself, is pretty much useless if the only person holding him accountable to stick to his promise is one Eddie fucking Munson. Because that guy can’t be trusted. 

Especially not when it comes to Steve and his stupid perfect hair, his stupid perfect dimples, his preppy fucking everything, and — perhaps most importantly — the breathy note his voice gets when the boy replaces his beautiful piece of brain with Eddie’s finest weed. 

Steve in all his sober glory is unbearable at best, sure, that’s old news. But high? When the pained frown he’s not even aware of until he complains about a headache smoothes out and the tension in his shoulders disappears? When his scars no longer pull at every movement and he can hold himself again in the way he used to before everything — broad movements with a clumsy little edge to them that have Eddie’s heartstrings play rope skipping with his sanity.

That. That’s it. That’s it for Eddie. 

And it’s no surprise that it’s also what leaves him helpless in the face of Nancy hopefully suggesting they get high again tomorrow night; all of them. Offering Eddie the chance at getting to see that tension fall away again, and that pale smile be replaced with an easy, genuine, lingering one — dreamy and so fucking pretty. 

Luring Eddie with the most beautiful insanity.

So he says yes, despite having promised himself that he wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time. With Steve all the way up in his space, brushing his hair behind his ear with wonderment, trailing his hand down that lock until he forgot what he was going to say. What he was going to do. 

Forgetting, too, that Eddie was sober, because he wanted to watch Steve without getting caught — but Steve, all high and sweet and tactile, apparently decided to do the same. He looked. And touched. And smiled and breathed and stayed right there. Fingertips dancing around the frayed ends of Eddie’s hair.

Something shifted — first between them, then around them. And then between them again when Eddie stepped back and turned away, in desperate need of a cool drink to stave off the feeling of being caught, of being trapped, of being so fucking gone on the prettiest god-damn boy in all of Indiana. And of having said boy look at him like that. 

They shouldn’t get high again. They shouldn’t. 

But he knows it helps with the pain like their meds never do; he knows it helps Nance sleep better, breathe better, exist in this post-apocalyptic world that doesn’t even remember the apocalypse, whose only reminders lie in the scar tissue of some teenagers and some graves that nobody knows are empty. 

He knows that if he says no, they’ll find someone else to provide; and he doesn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit. 

So it’s not even the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile that gets him to agree, nodding at Nance with an easy smile, saying, “Sure, let’s do it.” 

But it is the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile, his breathy voice, his tactile nature that comes out even more when he’s high out of his mind like he knows he’s floating and needs someone to anchor him, and the memory of that stolen little moment, that makes Eddie curse himself to all hells once Nancy’s blooming smile is out of sight and he’s free of judgment to kick the kitchen counter beside him with a hearty curse. 

He can do it. He can. All he needs to do is not stay sober this time, take the edge off and get out of his head about all of this, because he’s actually far less likely to do anything stupid under the influence, and also not look at Steve All Eyes On Me Harrington. 

Easy. 

Right? 

Totally. 

Except, as it turns out, ignoring Steve is both easier and harder than Eddie expected. The thing is, he’s good at diving into any conversation with just about anyone, making it larger than it needs to be until everyone in the room will give him funny looks but still roll with it, because Eddie Munson is just Like That, right? 

But Steve doesn’t give him funny looks. Oh, they’re far from fun. There’s something in there that reminds Eddie of a kicked puppy in those fleeting moments that he lets his eyes meet Steve’s, never letting them linger, never letting them take him in and hold him and bask in the sunlight that is stored in those… Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. And that pretty, pretty face. 

A face that shouldn’t look so sad. 

He wants to ask what’s wrong, ask him if it’s a bad pain day, ask him if he didn’t sleep last night either, or if something happened. But how is he supposed to ask, to let any words come out of his mouth, when Steve just won’t look away. When he’s looking at Eddie like that again, when the little something that has shifted between them suddenly becomes massive enough to steal all the air away from his lungs and make his arms tingle in a way that he knows will only get better if he gets to wrap them around Steve. 

He can’t. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t look away either, and he knows he’s already lost. He knows he broke this promise he made to himself. 

But it’s fine, maybe, if the slight twitch in the corners of Steve’s lips is anything to go by. Like he, too, wants to say something but can’t. Like he knows Eddie is the same. Like his heart is racing, too, and he tried not to look but they’re so stupid and looked anyway and now they can’t— 

“Guys?” Robin interrupts their little moment, the bubble bursting with a loud snap of her fingers that makes Eddie physically flinch. 

He looks at her, spooked to shit and gasping because he does not do well with sudden loud noises or the impromptu bursting of bubbles — not after everything that happened. 

“Shit, sorry, oh my God!” Robin’s there immediately, reaching for his hand, Nancy laying hers on his shoulder, Jonathan making himself known with a gentle little, “You’re fine, man.” 

Eddie regains his footing and breathes away the panic, thinking that maybe getting high today wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He hands Robin the baggie and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making himself a little smaller by muscle memory alone. 

Steve’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades — reassuring and warm. Like a flower, Eddie rises to follow it. He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eyes and wants to rest his face against it. Wants to feel it against his skin. Wants to feel it shift into something deeper. Something real. 

God, he’s so hopeless. 

Good thing that Robin’s got the blunt under control, because Eddie does not trust his hands right now. 

They grab the snacks and drinks and head outside to where Steve and Robin laid out pillows and blankets on the lawn, framed with dimly glowing white Christmas lights that Robin insists upon whenever they do this. Makes it feel a little less fucked up for her. Like we’re doing this because we want to, and not because we need it to sleep or to cope with the pain or whatever, you know? Put pretty lights anywhere, and it’s a choice. 

Eddie has to admit that she has a point there, but the truth is he’ll smoke anywhere, fairy lights or no. Although there’s something, a capital-s Something about watching Steve framed by a thousand little lights smoothing out the worry lines on that beautiful face and making him seem all the more angelic for it. 

Eddie actually called him angel once — the first time they did it like this. Made Steve smile like nothing else Eddie’s said to him since. Or anyone else for that matter. If he were any better at feeling the ground beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, he’d call him that again. Make him smile like that again. 

But the ground is shifting and air is always scarce these days, with Steve’s hands on his body so fleetingly, so accidentally leaving marks on scar tissue, making Eddie wish he could feel more of Steve’s warmth there. 

Making him wish he could ask. Touch me higher. Lower. Longer. Make it last. Make it count. Let me feel it, just for a second. Let me feel it where they didn’t steal chunks of my skin and my soul and, apparently, my sanity. 

Argyle is the first to spread out on the blankets with a hearty groan that leaves everyone with a fond smile, gathering around him in a semi circle of amusement. He makes grabby hands at Robin, or maybe at the unlit joints she’s safekeeping — but either way, she follows suit, cuddling up to Argyle and in turn making grabby hands at Steve, who does as he’s told and laughs in that gentle, melodic way that they so seldomly hear these days. 

Steve’s eyes fall on Eddie then, but a surge of worry and panic overcomes him, half expecting Steve to follow Robbie’s and Argyle’s example and reach for Eddie next. Or not reach for him. Either way, Eddie doesn’t want to find out, his heart beating in his chest at the endless possibilities stowed away in his overactive imagination. Instead of waiting for Steve’s next move, he sits down right here at the opposite end of the blanket, reaching for one of the pillows so he can hug it to his chest and have something to hold on to, just to keep his hands busy. 

“Just don’t crush the goods there, birdie,” he grins, watching Nancy and Johnathan find a place to sit, too. He scoots over to make room for them, moving further from Steve in the process and feeling the distance in his chest. It’s so stupid. Fucked up, really. 

“Oh, the goods are plenty safe, my dude,” Argyle says, earning himself a giggly groan from Robin that sounds a lot like, Gross!

Jonathan throws a pillow in Argyle’s face, which he deftly catches with just as salacious a grin. 

Eddie tunes them out for a moment as he catches Steve’s eyes boring into him. He cocks an eyebrow and inclines his head, silently asking him what’s up in way less magical a way than he has with Robin. 

He doesn’t really expect Steve to react in any way other than maybe a shrug or a brief, reassuring smile that really has no meaning other than, I’m fine, except for all the ways you know I’m not. 

But Steve doesn’t smile. And he doesn’t shrug. He keeps his eyes on Eddie and fucking pouts. Looks like he’s not even aware of it, his eyes a little glazed already, seeming far away. Far away and right here and looking so fucking sad about it. About the few feet between them and Eddie being all the way over there. 

It’s a bit like the moment they shared earlier, with Steve looking so sad and Eddie wanting to do something about it. He couldn’t then. But now… 

Eddie’s breath hitches a little as he mirrors Steve’s position, falling backwards and leaning on his elbows., never once dropping his eyes. Stretching out his legs until he can nudge Steve’s ankle with his foot. Watching as those eyes snap down to the briefest contact in surprise, watching as Steve looks caught. And watching, too, as his lips twitch and his foot slowly, incrementally moves closer to Eddie’s like he can’t help it. Like he needs to touch him. Always, always needs to touch him. 

And Eddie can feel it there, so he doesn’t move away. He wants to hold his hand, wants to run his fingers through his hair and for Steve to do the same. He wants to breathe him in, wants to live in a Steve-filled world and feel welcomed in it. 

But he can’t. Because they’re not like that. And because this moment is not like that. And Steve is… Well, he is like that, he’s pretty sure. But maybe not for Eddie. Maybe not like that. 

Steve’s foot is warm against his, pristine white baseball socks so stark a contrast against Eddie’s;  threadbare and black, with more holes than fabric these days. He can’t really help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him, or the urge to pull back his feet and hide them in his shoes again. Sacrifice the warmth for safety.

But then Steve seems to notice just a second after Eddie does, and he smiles. Huffs a little with it, like it just bubbles out of him. Eddie wants to lean across the blanket and chase it. Chase the fondness and keep it there forever. 

And that’s another thing about Steve that is so very fucked up: he doesn’t let Eddie hide. He doesn’t let him trade warmth for security, because — smile in place — Steve slowly moves his feet along the side of Eddie’s like he’s playing fucking Connect the Dots with the holes in his socks. It’s ridiculous. 

It’s ridiculous, and Eddie is helpless. He’s so gone, a hundred percent. He’s so fucked up over that silly boy and the way he smiles at the most lamest of things. 

It’s not his fault that he leaves his feet where they are, the warmth of Steve’s slow, teasing touch shooting electricity up his legs that leaves him with goosebumps and a sudden case of uncomfortably tight jeans.

He’s glad there’s still a pillow in his lap. And he’s glad, too, that the night is dark enough, the fairy lights not bright enough, to reveal the flush rising to his cheeks as it feels like the bravest thing he’s ever done stay like this. To have Steve looking at him like this. Eyes hooded and intense. Like he sees right through Eddie. Like he likes what he sees. 

With a dull click, Robin’s Zippo pulls him back to reality in what must be the gentlest of ways, and Eddie manages a smile as he watches her gently place the doobie between Steve’s lips before she lights it, one hand on his cheek. Their faces light up, leaving the rest of the world in the dark, and Eddie is struck with how good they are together. 

There’s something in the way she lights the joint for him, some kind of love language from the girl who burnt down the hell dimension below them and left it in ashes, and the boy who held her hand through it. 

She holds his eyes as the flame dies and something passes between them as Steve slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Takes that first hit. 

Eddie’s smile falters as he watches, the glowing cherry coming to life and lighting up Steve’s face, revealing that relaxed little smile on his lips as he holds it in for five, six, seven before exhaling  around it in a slow, drawn-out way. He blows it in Robin’s face like he always does, and Robin laughs and shoves him back, like she always does. 

And Eddie wants to trade her place. Like he always does. Eyes transfixed on Steve as he takes the next hit and pulls the joint from between his lips. Holding his breath again. And Eddie wants to be held like that. Wants to fill Steve’s lungs like that, wants to leave an aftertaste that is both sweeter and biting as he does to Steve what that first hit does to him. Leaving him all soft and gentle and so, so at ease, his eyes droopy and all those lines of pain and worry smoothed out by him. Eddie. On his lips. In his mouth. Fuck, anywhere, really. Everywhere. 

He follows Steve on his exhale, his head getting a little dizzy with the lack of air, but still he is slow to breathe in again. It feels strangely intimate, watching him like this. Watching as that tension falls away and he hums a little around the bud — relaxed and relieved and appreciative. It feels like they’re the only people left in this town, in this state, maybe in the whole world. 

Eddie wants to stay alone like this forever, chase Steve’s breath and wish it would hit his face like that, caress his cheeks until the air around them claims it and erases all traces of Steve; but not from Eddie’s skin. Never from his skin. 

But they’re not alone. And Steve opens his eyes. And Eddie is caught. 

Still he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away as Steve blows out the smoke, sweet and earthy in the air between them as it slowly finds its way to him across the blanket. He imagines that he can feel it as the smell grows stronger, imagines the smoke to feel warm against his cheek as he breathes it all in, holding those hazel eyes in the dark that refuse to look away from him. 

It’s like that moment the other day in Steve’s kitchen when he was so close Eddie could smell all of him, frozen as he was, rooted to the spot — too scared to move and reveal himself, reveal all of himself, all the ugly truths and dreams. His wishes. His desires. 

Why do you keep looking? Eddie wants to ask. What are you looking to find? Am I just an experiment to you, are you looking at yourself through my eyes? Say something. Anything. 

But Steve doesn’t. He never does. Steve Harrington isn’t really the type to just say what’s on his mind, too used to Robin by his side to just read it all and react in her own way. Too used to Dustin, who’d do the talking for him. Too used to just letting his eyes, his arms, his posture convey his message. 

Too used to people knowing him. Getting a good read on him. But not Eddie, because Eddie never learned how to fucking read people like Steve Harrington cast in pretty light and relaxation. Angry, he can read him no problem. When he’s pissed, when he’s annoyed, when he’s sad. Tense. Worried. 

But not this. Never this. This intensity, this steady gaze resting only on him. He never looks at Robin like that, and he doesn’t fucking look at anyone else lately. 

It’s driving Eddie insane. 

It’s too much. 

He snaps when Steve passes the joint back to Robin, and sits up to pull his feet back to himself, covering them with his hands to pretend the warmth is still there. Frowns at the holes in his socks, feeling more exposed than ever. He curls in on himself a little, pretending to be very fascinated with a little thread that’s come loose in the blanket beneath him while the others hold casual conversation around him. 

This was a bad idea. He’s so fucked. 

Part of him debates if he should leave, if he should just call it a day and bid them goodnight. The other part of him wants to just close the distance between him and Steve and settle in beside him so the weight of that gaze won’t fucking wear him down any more. 

But knowing Steve, that wouldn’t work. 

Knowing Steve, nothing works. 

Feeling pathetic and small, Eddie lets himself fall to his side, hiding his face behind Nancy, whose hand comes to rest in his hair, combing through it just a little bit. Allowing him to collect himself. This isn’t new, and they don’t really question when Eddie just randomly lies down anywhere, or if he just stops talking all of a sudden. 

It’s why they do this, after all. No judgment. No questions. Just the sweet, sweet release of Mary Jane. 

It helps, having her hands in his hair like this, grounding him. It helps, finding no question or worry in her eyes as she looks down at him with a little smile — her way of including him in the conversation. He smiles back, just a little bit, and closes his eyes to better focus on her hand rather than the moment. She chuckles when he begins to purr, and then the smile stays a little longer. 

After a while, when she offers him the joint, Eddie shifts to lie on his back and gazes up to find the clouds have cleared and revealed the night sky behind them. It’s pretty, the summer sky, and he takes a long drag trying to think of nothing else. A hot wave of smoke hits his lungs, and it tickles a bit just like it always does, but the urge to cough it back out has been gone for years. These days, his lungs allow the warm embrace of the smoke and allow him to hold his breath as long as he wants, feeling a pleasant buzz after the fifth drag. It’s the good stuff after all. Munson’s Finest. 

He passes the joint back to Nancy, too comfortable to get up and pass it to anyone else, trusting her to do it without complaint. She does. She’s an angel like that. Puts her hand back in his hair and plays with his overgrown bangs a little while Eddie just stares up at the sky. 

Steve’s talking, but the words don’t really translate. It doesn’t matter, though. Just hearing his voice is enough for Eddie to sort of drift into a pleasant sphere of nothingness, his chest tightening a little with it. Always, always tight when he hears that voice. Like his heart has grown three times its size and his ribcage didn’t get the memo that Eddie Munson is hopelessly, helplessly, endlessly gone for a boy who refuses to look away. 

The thing is, Steve has always looked. Always. Even in the Upside Down. The first time, and the second. And then, the third. And Eddie wants it to mean something. Wants it to mean everything, or at least carry that possibility. 

But there’s no way to find out. There’s only him and the stars and Nancy Wheeler’s hand in his hair after his life took several wrong turns that left him with more scar tissue than skin these days, and the horrible realisation that, after the world ended and rebuilt, he can fall in love. That he can want. That he can have these cravings that he’d always heard everyone else talk about, wondering if that was just another layer of freak to him, or if he was simply Like That. 

They’re lonely realisations, he finds. Alienating, in a way. Because not only does he not know how to navigate Harrington, no, he’s a riddle even to himself right now. 

All he knows is that he wants to touch. To hold. To kiss. To crawl into him, on top of him, beneath him, and pull his own name from those lips in tiny little gasps that have nothing in common with the frantic gasps of panic after their first stint with the hell dimension. He wants a do-over. He wants a chance. A real fucking chance to have all these smiles, all these looks mean something. 

Arm outstretched, he reaches for the blunt again, taking it from whomever has it right now, aiming to shut off his brain a little more. Not to suppress it, but to shut it off. Even if that means he has to finish this thing. It’s fine. They have more. They always have more, because Jon and Argyle have an unreal fucking tolerance. 

With a chuckle, Nancy bypasses his hand and puts the joint between his lips and ignores his indignant hum. 

“Treat yourself”, she says, her voice wonderfully slow and lower in pitch. “I’ll be right back, yeah?” 

“‘Kay.” 

The warmth of her hand leaves his scalp, and with her body gone — getting up in way too swift a motion even for sober people — the night air seems a little colder. Eddie shivers a little, refusing to look at anyone, and just takes drag after drag, deciding he’ll finish this one. It’s his weed after all. 

By the sounds of it, Robin is already lighting the next one. Good girl. Smart girl. Best fucking girl in the whole wide world. 

Thick clouds of hot smoke waft through his lungs and all the way through his body up to his brain, leaving his arms and legs with a tingling feeling and his head with a pleasant buzz and tunes out most everything else around him. It’s great. It’s good. It’s wonderful. 

It’s why he doesn’t realise that the air is warm again and a body shielding him from everyone else until there’s a hand in his hair again. He opens his eyes to snark at Wheeler, but— 

It’s not Wheeler. It’s Steve. Knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on top as he smiles down at Eddie. 

Neither of them says a word, but Eddie’s breath hitches. Stops, stutters. Just like his heart. And yet all he can do is stare up. Wonder if it’s real. Wonder if it’s real. 

“Is this okay?” Steve whispers, fingers barely touching Eddie’s skin as he sort of plays with his hair. 

After a beat or two, Eddie nods, careful not to move too much. Careful not to chase those fingers and all the things they could mean. 

“Good.” 

And then Steve pulls the joint from between Eddie’s lips, and Eddie wants to warn him because this one’s close to the end and bound to be stronger, but it doesn’t seem to faze Steve as he just sucks in the smoke like it’s the first lungful of air he gets after a long day stuck inside. Smiling around the bud as it dies between his lips, he presses it into the grass beside him, extinguishing the last of it. 

He exhales, and Eddie can make out a tiny cloud of smoke against the night sky, watching as it wanders toward him. He waits for Steve to say something. There is what feels like intent in the movements of his hand, in the sudden appearance by his side, and in the way he— he fucking looks at him again. The sky is full of stars, the backyard full of fairy lights, and Steve Harrington is looking at him. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks at last, breaking the silence, wondering if his voice always sounds so small, so quiet, so endlessly tiny. Wondering if Steve even heard. 

But he did, because he smiles again. He did, because his hand stills. Touches Eddie’s skin. His scalp, his temple. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking from Eddie’s eyes to his own hand with something akin to wonder. Or marvel. 

And Eddie shivers again when that hand travels down. Caressing his cheek, definitely with intent. Electricity shoots through his body again, and the intensity in Steve’s eyes leaves him with goosebumps. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Barely even swallows as Steve bites his lip absently and moves on, trailing from Eddie’s cheek down to his... 

He’s touching his lips, and Eddie doesn’t breathe. Steve runs his forefinger along Eddie’s bottom lip, and in another world would he open his mouth and nip on his fingers or gasp at the touch and be better at this, be so much better at everything. But in this one, he lies motionless as Steve just fucking… explores. 

And his touch is so light, it’s so gentle, so sweet on the rough scar tissue, and yet so absent, it doesn’t have to mean anything. He could pull back his hands now and claim that Eddie had something there. He could pull back and live his life unchanged. Leave Eddie behind in this state of paralysis, changed irrevocably, and be safe. 

But that’s not what Steve does. 

Steve was never one to choose safety over bravery, and he has the scars to prove it now. The permanent stiffness of his back that barely lets him feel anything these days. The set in his jaw when he breathes through the pains phantom and real, the crease between his brows when the memory pains flare up. 

But his back is hunched in comfort now rather than in pain, and his shoulders are at ease. His lips are lightly ajar around a barely-there smile, and the skin between his eyes is smooth. Eddie wants to reach out and trace it, wants to caress it in the hopes that it’ll stay smooth forever. 

He’s so pretty. Golden light catching his skin in all the right ways, leaving him positively glowing with that look he gives Eddie. That look. 

Eddie’s never felt so exposed. So vulnerable. Laid bare, ready for dissection and willing to be taken apart in the hopes of letting him find what he wants and take it. Rip it right out of his chest. Now that he has Steve’s hand on his skin in the lightest of touches that’s anything but fleeting, he knows he would let him take anything he wants. Knows he would be helpless to stop him. 

Helpless in the face of that gaze that trails down to his lips now, if only to follow his fingers. 

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, barely moving his mouth at all around that single syllable. 

Golden hazel eyes flit back to his, and they widen a little. Like suddenly it’s Steve who’s caught. 

What are you doing? Eddie wants to ask. What are we doing? Don’t stop. Never stop. 

But words are for moments lighter than this one. Words are not meant for a world that’s changing. 

Maybe that is why Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tipping it up and turning his face toward him in a gesture so tender it’s almost possessive. Electricity shoots through Eddie again and the air between them is sizzling with it, sizzling because Steve is moving, shifting, dipping his head, his hand coming to rest on Eddie’s throat to keep him from moving away — except there is no force in his touch, and Eddie could still run. 

He could. He should, maybe. Like last time. 

But he is suspended in time, chained to the ground by the weight of Steve’s gaze and the hand on his throat, and his heart is beating so hard, so fast, that he is sure Steve can feel it. Imagines that those fingers move to find his pulse. Imagines that they find their home there, imagines that they hear the tales of stolen hearts and desires that leave his blood rushing. 

Imagines that Steve falters a little, hovering just above Eddie. Dreams of it all, dreams that this is real and that he can have this, just for tonight. He nods, and it’s a tiny little thing, far from enough to ruin this moment or wake him from his dream.

But then Steve captures his lips with such care that Eddie snaps back into his body and realises that this is no dream. Steve is kissing him. Hovers above him with one arm resting in the grass above Eddie’s head, his other hand pulling Eddie’s face towards himself and being oh so gentle about it. 

A whimper escapes him when this new reality settles inside his body, leaving him reeling and pulled towards a world of possibilities as those lips, those warm lips, rest so indulgently against his. 

No longer chained, Eddie carefully lifts a hand to Steve’s head, because Steve can feel him there, too, and because he doesn’t want this to end. Because he needs to touch. All night, all week, all this time he has needed to touch. To cradle. To hold. 

To keep. 

Steve hums, and those lips pull into a smile before closing around Eddie’s bottom lip. The first touch of Steve’s tongue has jolts of electricity and arousal zinging through Eddie’s body again, lingering this time and making a home in his legs that begin to tingle with want. 

Eddie opens his mouth, tilting his head a little to get a better angle, and is rewarded with the careful, addictive touch of Steve’s tongue against his. It makes Steve smile again, just for a second — but long enough to make Eddie’s heart jump. 

He chases those lips when they pull back, capturing them with a little hum as he realises he comes more and more unchained, regaining feeling and control over his body, his mind, his scared little heart. Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, pushing Eddie’s head down into the grass again with an urgency that Eddie is beginning to understand matches the hunger he’s feeling. 

The hunger that is reserved only for Steve. It leaves him breathless, leaves him with the sudden need to gasp for air, but then Steve’s tongue is in his mouth again and maybe he doesn’t need to breathe ever again. 

He loses himself in the wet slide of their tongues that feels so sensual it’s almost obscene, and all he can do is tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and keep him right where he is while Eddie himself lies boneless, all the blood rushing down, down, down. Every nip of Steve’s teeth as he devours Eddie so entirely and yet so innocently, so sweetly, so carefully, and every time he sucks on his lips or his tongue results in another wave of intense arousal. And Eddie is stuck in the riptide of it. 

It doesn’t take long for the first moan to break the silence, a gasped little thing, almost like an afterthought, and he’s not sure if that was him or Steve; but he doesn’t really care either way, because he’s so hard, he feels like he can come from just Steve sucking on his tongue alone. 

And isn’t that an enticing thought. 

“Steve,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he’s going to say, or if that’s really all he needs to say. All that’s left to say. Steve, Steve, Steve. 

The only response he gets is a breathy little, “Fuck,” and it sounds like a revelation. Like an epiphany. And Eddie wants to hear it again, wants to swallow all the little noises and murmurs and everything Steve will give him. 

“You’re so—“ Steve begins, interrupting himself with another deep, hungry kiss. “Fuck. You’re…” 

“Yeah?” Eddie counters, breaking the kiss by pulling on Steve’s hair a little. “I’m what?” 

Steve hesitates, panting breaths dancing over Eddie’s skin and he smells so fucking good. Eddie wants to lick the aftershave and perfume and sweat off his neck and keep the taste on his tongue for days. Dark, blown eyes wander over his face, and the hand that was on his throat comes up to rest on his cheek again in a gesture so gentle that it almost gives him whiplash. The hunger is gone — or, not gone, but unimportant now. 

Steve smiles, hazy but genuine and so, so sweet, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s no doubt swollen lips. 

“Been wanting to do that forever.” 

Eddie’s heart jumps, falters, falls. Just a little. Just the rest of the way. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna kiss you forever.” 

“Yeah, well,” Eddie breathes, voice barely there because his breath has well and truly been taken away, and this moment feels so fragile. So easily broken by quick movements or thoughts that are just a little too loud, just a little too soon. “‘M not gonna stop you.” 

Steve’s eyes snap back to his, and there’s something in there that not even the weed could ease away. “Yeah?” 

Eddie nods, frowning a little, wondering what makes him so unsure. 

“Cool,” Steve says, and it’s almost nonchalant and definitely charming in that way he always is. Makes Eddie laugh a little, his other hand coming up to wipe a strand hair out of his eyes. “So…” He trails off. 

“Hmm?” 

“Wanna stay here? Or go inside, or…” 

And then it’s not arousal that overcomes him but worry. And guilt. And a bit of fear, because that’s not what this is for him. Not like this. Not when they’re high, not for the first time. 

He swallows, schooling his face to cooperate and not give it all away right now, not give away how helplessly gone he is for that boy and how he would do anything Steve wants, how he would take anything he can get and try to make it be enough. But instead of choosing the easy thing and betraying himself, he moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his cheek, melting at the way Steve leans into it, moving his face to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm. 

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is shaky again. And small. So, so small. “That’s not what this is for me. I don’t… I wanna kiss you forever. And more. Much more. But not… I don’t—“ 

“Not while we’re high? Inebriated?” He says the word with a chuckle, referencing the way Robin will always use big words when she’s hammered. There’s a gentle sort of understanding on his face after the chuckle, though, and Eddie melts a little again. “Wanna do it right, hmm? Wanna treat me right and make sure I won’t regret it, angel?” 

Eddie whimpers at the sudden use of that nickname, because he’s not, but he does. He didn’t realise until Steve said it how scared he was — is — that Steve will regret this. The kiss. And anything that might follow. 

Not trusting his words right now, he can only nod, wondering if his eyes are as blown as Steve’s are. If Steve thinks he’s pretty, too. 

“God, you’re unreal,” Steve whispers, coming down again to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, brushing them down to the tip of his nose. He leans into those kisses, tips his chin up to chase it, but Steve pulls away again, his thumb tracing the pout he leaves behind on Eddie’s lips. 

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie grumbles, watching the delight on Steve’s face and deciding that he’s addicted now. Fuck the weed, fuck everything else. Steve can get him just as high. 

Along with that thought, reality works its tendrils into Eddie’s consciousness again, and he looks around the backyard around them — but there’s only him and Steve out here on the blanket, framed as they are by the fairy lights. 

“Hang on, where are the others?”

Steve huffs, his face shifting into an expression of fond amusement and gentle annoyance. “Last time I checked, Robin and Argyle were raiding the fridge, Nancy was lying on the living room carpet, marvelling at how soft it is, and Jonathan was just kinda spaced out on the couch with a bowl of chips. Don’t think they’re gonna come out here again in the next half hour or so.” 

“How convenient,” Eddie grins, wondering just how obvious the two of them had been all this time. Wondering, too, if it can really be that easy. If he can have this. If they can; after everything they went through.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, his body shifting so he’s half lying on top of Eddie now, positively vanishing any and all thoughts Eddie could have spared anyone else. He would worry about the hard-on he’s sporting, but it becomes obvious very quickly that Steve has the same predicament. It’s enticing, feeling him against his thigh like that, and Eddie has half a mind to do something about that, especially when Steve keeps shifting against him. “So. Do you wanna make out some more before we light the next baggie? It’s fine if not. We can just… I don’t know, cuddle or something.” 

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling on his hair a little bit to underline his deadpan. “What about I wanna kiss you forever was unclear?” 

“Hey, I said that first,” Steve retorts, digging his fingers into Eddie’s sides, making Eddie squeal and squirm right into his arms. “I also kissed you first,” he continues, sounding so damn smug about it. Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. “So I’m winning.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Steve all the way on top of him, his hands finding his way to those magnificent thighs, so firm underneath his grip. “‘M feeling pretty lucky right now.” 

“You think you’re so smooth,” Steve hums, dipping his head to hover just above his lips. 

“Is it working?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

They’re both laughing when their lips meet again, but that doesn’t deter them from kissing and tasting and swallowing moans like they’ll find new purpose in each other. Like they’ve already found it. 

Just like Steve’s hand finds his, weaving their fingers together and pressing him further into the grass. Eddie holds on tight, not ready to let him go anytime soon, and marvelling at how sensitive his hand has become. 

There is no urgency in the way Steve slowly begins to move against him, grinding their crotches together in slow, sensual motion like waves of the ocean gently lapping at the shore. Eddie meets him right where they both need it most, not once breaking their kiss even when it becomes open-mouthed panting and moaning that the other is trying to chase and swallow and keep only for himself. 

“You feel so good,” Steve rumbles, catching Eddie’s tongue between his teeth and pulling a high-pitched whimper from him. “So fucking good, Eddie.” 

“Don’t stop, Stevie, fuck.” He’s panting, his legs tingling with want and need and a weightlessness he’s never known before. “I know I said— We can stop. We can stop, we can, but— fuck, I’m close.” 

“Yeah?” Steve taunts, and oh, there’s purpose now in the the way he’s lifting his chest off Eddie, putting his weight behind the way he’s grinding into him. “You gonna come in your pants, baby? While the others are still inside? Means you’re gonna do this with me again later, right? Try again when we’re not high, hmm?”

“Yes,” Eddie rushes to say, working his fingers into Steve’s belt loops to keep him from stopping. “God, yes, I wanna—“ 

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, kissing the words right out of his brain, chasing his own pleasure, too. “God, you’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, Eddie. Wanna come with me?” 

“Uh-huh,” Eddie can only nod and moan around all the words he wants to say, all those cheesy fucking words that leave him all the more vulnerable for how true they are. The tingly feeling builds in his legs, climbing to his core, and he wonders for a split second if Steve can really make him come like this — worries that somehow it’s not enough and that he’ll ruin this, that he’ll fuck it up and make it awkward between them because he doesn’t actually have any idea how his body works when someone else is taking the reins. 

But then Steve kisses him like that again, sucking his tongue into his mouth, holding his hand and groaning when Eddie moves in just the right way, and the sizzling pleasure finally finds its release. 

Eddie comes with a broken groan that Steve swallows greedily, panting into his mouth as, shortly after, his hips begin to stutter in their movements and he follows Eddie off the brink of this beautiful madness. Steve was always beautiful, there’s no question about that. But like this, face slack, kiss-swollen and spit-slick lips open around a silent moan as he grinds his trapped cock against Eddie’s, wrecked with aftershocks as his orgasm washes over him? He’s a fucking revelation that makes Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, over sensitive as he is  and yet so helpless against Steve’s aborted little motions. 

Getting high on weed doesn’t compare to getting high on Steve. It’s a high Eddie wants to chase forever, and he starts by wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him down onto his chest again, just to hold him. Steve purrs as Eddie’s hand finds its way into his hair, combing it away from the sweaty skin it sticks to. He cages him with his legs, too, tingly as they remain on either side of Steve’s body. 

It’s stupid, maybe, and a bit much, but he wants to keep Steve like this for a little longer. Putty in his hands, his weight on top of him grounding him after that high, and allowing them both to come down slowly. 

“Man,” Steve says after a while, just letting that word hang in the air as he regains conscious thought. 

Eddie hums, prompting him to say what’s on his mind even though he’s scared he won’t like what he’s about to hear. Still, it’s only fair to let Steve say what he wants. 

“I like you so much.” 

Eddie holds his breath as he waits for the but. For the regret. But none follows. That’s really all Steve’s saying; and soon Eddie can’t fight the wave of giddiness that overcomes him. 

He hugs Steve a little tighter, not entirely ready yet to look him in the eyes and face this new reality they’ve kind of just created, needing to be a little scared for just a bit longer. But still he laughs, because scared is no longer all he’s feeling. There’s so much more now. So much more. 

“I like you so much right back.” 

Now it’s Steve who hums, shifting to lift his head and look at Eddie, but Eddie closes his eyes before Steve can catch them. 

“Said it first again.” A hand lands on his cheek again, just above the ugly scars that Steve doesn’t seem afraid to touch. “So I win.” 

And Eddie is looking now. Dares. If only to drive his point home when he says, “God, you’re so fucking lame.” 

“Is it working?” Steve grins, and Eddie never stood a fucking chance. 

“Unfortunately.” 

@izzy2210 here you go darling hehehe 🤍

[steddieas-shegoes]

Starving artist Steve Harrington just trying to pick up any job that’ll pay the bills so he can keep making art picking up a bartending gig at some album release event in LA because it pays a flat $500 for 4 hours of his time plus tips

The album ends up being a much-anticipated follow up to an extremely successful debut album for Corroded Coffin, a metal band that somehow made a huge dent across multiple genres with their Spotify Lounge cover session

The lead guitarist and singer, Eddie Munson, is known for being a charmer, but Steve doesn’t fall for it and that just makes Eddie work harder to impress him

Cut to Steve leaving well after the party wraps up, nearly $1000 richer (thank you drunk rich people who forgot they’d already tipped him $20) and running right into Eddie smoking behind the venue

He’s not supposed to smoke, messes with his voice, so he offers Steve his last cigarette and asks him how the night went. Steve’s honest and says he got enough money to pay off his rent for the month and have some leftover for groceries so he’s pretty happy

Eddie asks if bartending is what he always does and Steve unloads on him about his art, how he always knew it would lead to living thin, but that he didn’t mind if it meant he still got to create things that let people see the world differently

Eddie won’t admit it for at least four more months, but he fell in love with Steve that night, listening to the way he described his process and watching as his eyes lit up as he told him about a new thing he wanted to try with oils and clay pinch pots as soon as he had the money for studio time and materials

Eddie won’t admit it for another six months, but he “forgot” the nearly $5000 in cash in the jacket he let Steve borrow in hopes that his bills would be taken care of long enough for him to get whatever studio time he wanted

And Steve wouldn’t admit it for almost a year, but he knew all along that Eddie’s charm worked on him from the first time he ordered a fruity drink at the bar and called him Stevie

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 7

Warnings: slight angst, reader and Eddie getting high together, mentions of cheating and break up's, mentions of bullying, reader and eddie are really affectionate with each other but it’s all platonic. mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of Eddie's abusive dad

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Eddie tells you about the night he found Steve at the hideout.

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: well, I finally figured out how to make headers, let’s see if I will keep doing them haha

masterlist

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The room smells like hot chocolate, cinnamon and a hint of Eddie’s cologne. The mug on the table that was filled to the brim is now halfway empty. A box of Christmas cookies that your mom gave him when he came by last night is in between the two of you. He hasn’t stopped munching on them since you started the movie; Halloween. 

You couldn’t choose between Friday the 13th and Halloween so you let him pick. 

After you let your friends know that you were leaving, you and Eddie went to the diner to eat something before you went back to his trailer after renting a few movies at Family Video. 

“I can’t believe that this is your favorite movie,” Eddie says as he bites into the snowflake shaped cookie. 

You turn to look at him. He is still wearing the same clothes as before just like you. 

“Are you judging me?” You snort, swatting his arm. “You literally picked it.”

He chuckles and looks at you with a smirk, “I picked between the ones you chose.”

“You literally said that Halloween is one of your favorite movies!” 

He shrugs, chewing the cookie before he speaks up again, “maybe I lied.”

You roll your eyes and lean back, “so what’s your favorite movie then, master of dungeons?”

The nickname makes him chuckle, he turns his head away from the screen, “Halloween.” 

He laughs when you shake your head in disbelief, grabbing one of the pillows, you hit him with it, causing him to laugh harder. 

“Dork.” 

He snorts at you, “dork? What happened with the master of dungeons?” 

You lean closer to him and look into his eyes with a serious look on your face, “he turned into a massive dork.”

“If I’m a dork then what are you?” 

“A fairy witch,” you wink at him and reach for one of the cookies before you lean back. 

His eyes flash with amusement, his lips curl into a smile, “right,” he laughs, “is the fairy witch gonna stay over tonight?” 

You face him again, the cookie is still in your hand. There’s a knowing look in his eyes.

He knows your mom won’t be home tonight, she is working the night shifts this week and won’t be home until the morning. If there is one thing that Eddie had learned about you in the time you had become friends, is that you hate going to sleep when you are home alone, he doesn’t know why but he noticed your anxiety early on. He saw the tired look in your eyes in the mornings and he noticed how easily you would drift off to sleep when he came by after school to study. You would make up excuses when he’d ask you about it but he could see through you. 

He doesn’t know the reasoning behind your fears but he understands it. When he was a kid, he was restless, he struggled to sleep at nights because of his dad, who usually came home late after spending the night drinking or doing drugs. Whenever Eddie would hear the front door opening, his heart would start racing and he would be on high alert – his dad always picked fights with his mom and all Eddie ever wanted to do was to protect her. But he was just a kid and his dad was a violent man. 

Eddie couldn’t protect her. 

When he moved in with Wayne, nothing changed for the first few months. He kept staying up at nights – the anxiety and the fear that always lingered kept him up. Whenever he would fall asleep, nightmares would wake him up. He would hear the trailer door being slammed open, he would hear his mom screaming, his dad yelling and hitting things. Eddie would wake in cold sweat, he would jump up from the bed and run out of the room to stop his dad from hitting her only to realize that the trailer door never opened, his dad never came in and his mom would never be there again. 

He knows that you are struggling with something too but he would never push you to talk. He just wants to protect you. 

“We could watch Friday the 13th and y’know, share a joint.” 

You swallow. 

“You don’t mind me staying over?”

Eddie frowns at your question and shakes his head, “why would I ask if I minded you staying over? You know you’re always welcome here, sweetheart.” 

You smile at his words. Eddie always knows how to make you feel safe and comfortable. Heather and Chrissy make you feel that way too but it’s different with them. You love and appreciate them but there are things that you can’t say to them – not because you don’t trust them but because you wouldn’t be able to deal with their pitiful looks, it’s been bad enough already after he dumped you. 

You aren’t the only one who refuses to speak about certain things. You know that Chrissy has a secret, one that Heather is keeping safe from you. It hurts a little because a part of you is scared that it might have something to do with you. Why else would they keep a secret from their best friend?

“Then I’d love to stay the night.” 

He smiles, “cool.”

After you finish watching the movie, you carry the empty mugs and the box of cookies back into the kitchen. Eddie turns off the TV and reaches for the other movie tape before he leads you into his room. He turns on the small lamp on his nightstand and throws the tape on his bed. He walks over to his dresser and opens the top drawer. 

“You know, the joint you mentioned earlier…” you mumble as you let yourself fall on his bed, curiously staring at the handcuffs that remain a mystery to you. 

“You know, they should be calling you ‘the stoner’, not me,” he snorts. He turns back to you and hands you a shirt, he eyes you up and down, “here, that dress is pretty but it can’t be comfortable to sleep in,” he laughs. 

“How kind of you,” you chuckle. You unfold the shirt, your eyes widen a little, “isn’t that your favorite one?” 

He nods as he takes the chain around his neck off and places it on his nightstand. 

“My favorite girl gets my favorite shirt,” he says, ruffling your hair as he winks at you. 

You swat his hand away and laugh, “how many girls do you say that to, Eddie?” 

He raises his brows and places his hand on his chest, “you think I’m bringing home girls? Did you forget who I am?” He laughs, shaking his head. 

You furrow your brows. You drop the shirt on your lap and tilt your head to look at him. 

You and Eddie haven’t been friends for long but you feel comfortable with each other – comfortable enough for him to take his shirt off in front of you. He throws it over his chair, he stands there shirtless for a second, scratching the spot around his new tattoo. He is just your friend but you are not blind, Eddie is pretty in a way no other guy at school is – except for Steve.

“You’re saying that you don’t bring any girls home?” You ask as you carefully pull the straps of your dress down your arms before you put the shirt on. Too lazy to get up and change in the bathroom, you take the dress off after pulling the shirt down to your thighs. 

He puts on a black tank top and closes the drawer. “And no, I don’t bring any girls home. I’m a freak, nobody wants me.” 

“Don’t say that,” you frown. 

“Well, it’s the truth,” he chuckles as he drops down on the bed beside you after getting the pre rolled joint and a lighter, “girls don’t want me and honestly, I don’t care. I wouldn’t want to bring random girls home anyways.” 

You raise your brows in surprise, it makes him chuckle but his eyes flash with confusion. 

“What?” 

“You actually wouldn’t bring home girls?” You ask. “Like, not even if they were throwing themselves at you?”

“You mean if I was popular?” He snorts.

You nod.

He shakes his head, he scoots closer to you and offers you the joint. You take it in between your fingers and bring it up towards your mouth, wrapping your lips around it, you look at him expectedly, nudging your chin towards the lighter in his hand. He holds it up to the joint and flicks the lighter, holding the flame against the bud of the joint. You inhale and close your eyes. 

Eddie chuckles and pats your back when you open your eyes and exhale the smoke without coughing this time. 

“Like a real stoner.” 

“Shut up,” you chuckle and offer him the joint which he takes right away. He places it in between his lips and lies back, tucking his arm behind the pillow. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs after exhaling the smoke. For a moment, it’s silent between the two of you. 

You stand up and place your dress over the back of his chair after folding it. You turn on the TV before you plop back down on the bed. 

“I won’t lie to you, I’ve hooked up with uh – maybe three girls but they didn’t bother sticking around, they wouldn’t even look at me afterwards, they looked disgusted, every single one of them. I-I don’t know what I was thinking, I was hoping that it would be different each time but they were the same, all of them. The sex was good but uh I honestly don’t see the point of it if they don’t bother sticking around or if there’s no actual meaning behind it.”

Your heart breaks for him. You can imagine what he must have felt like when they treated him that way. You can see the sadness in his eyes, even when he tries to mask it. 

You scoot closer to him and reach for his hand, his eyes meet yours and he smiles at you. 

“You deserve better Eddie,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. “They were stupid cunts.” 

A laugh falls from his lips, he tries to mask the hurt in his eyes with amusement but you can see through him, just like he can see through you. 

“You know, Steve wouldn’t look at me either, sometimes. He just uh, he would fuck me, he would finish and then he would pass out. He rarely ever held me or kissed me, he almost never said ‘I love you’ either.”

Eddie frowns at your words. He isn’t shocked but he is angry. 

“It hurt so bad because I loved him so much and all I wanted was for him to just hold me and tell me that he loves me but he didn’t and it made me overthinking everything,” you mumble as you blink the tears away, “and then there was Tommy who always said how men need new partners all the time, how they get bored with their girlfriends and I was praying that that wasn’t the case for Steve, that the reason why he never held me or kissed me was because he was just bad at being affectionate and romantic but then he agreed with what he said even though I was right there and it uh, it hurt, really fucking bad. I kinda lied to myself though, I kept telling myself that he did love me, that he didn’t get bored with me but then he left me for her and he changed for her so uh, I figured that Tommy was right all along.” 

Eddie scoffs, he shakes his head at your words, “that’s not true, sweetheart.”

“It’s not?” You ask as you look back up at him. 

“No. Tommy is a shittalker and Steve is an idiot – like a real idiot,” Eddie says as his eyes widen. He laughs a little, it’s a humorless laugh but a laugh nonetheless. “He was a piece of shit for not treating you the way you deserve to be treated but I think that he is one of those guys who lets his friends words get to him, who feels pressured to keep his reputation as some fucking heartbreak King rather than be a good boyfriend.” He looks like he knows something that you don’t. “He’s also the type of guy who doesn’t know what he has until it’s gone.” 

“That makes sense,” you say even though you are not sure whether it actually makes sense or not. He almost kissed you and then he told you that he still loves you, that he always loved you only to show up to the dance with Nancy, like nothing ever happened. 

Eddie stares at you. Your brows are furrowed and you have that same confused and lost look in your eyes that you always have whenever you get lost in your thoughts. 

“Hey uh, I should probably tell you something,” he says as he sits up. He scratches the back of his neck and offers you the joint. You take it but don’t smoke it yet. 

“What’s up?” 

He runs his fingers through his curls and he takes a deep breath, “I drove him home last night.”

“Huh?”

He sighs, “Steve. I drove him home last night. I went to the Hideout to get my notebook and he was there getting plastered. He followed me outside and started asking about the jacket,” he mumbles, pointing to the jacket that is now back in his room again. “He got all pissed and jealous.”

You roll your eyes and scoff at his words.

“He calmed down when I told him we’re friends but uh, he tried to leave and I would’ve felt awful letting him drive home like that so I drove him home.” 

A smile tugs at your lips, Eddie’s kindness is something that always warms your heart. To know that he is showing such kindness to people who don’t deserve it just proves even more how amazing he is. 

“He started crying.”

A shocked expression takes over your face and you draw back a little, “what?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles as he shakes his head. “He uh– well, first he insulted my music taste and then I turned on the radio for him, David Bowie came on and boom, I have a sobbing King Steve in my van.” 

“Oh,” you whisper, your gaze softens. “David Bowie?” 

“Mhmm.” He reaches for the joint again and places it between his lips, taking a drag before he places it into the ashtray on his nightstand. “Heroes.” 

Your lips part and your face falls. It was your song. Yours and his. To know that it has such a hold on him still, makes you feel things that you want to keep buried. 

You push yourself up and sit in front of him, “then what?”

Eddie’s brown eyes soften, he can see the pain in your features, the love that you still have for him. He can’t imagine how much pain there still is. He clears his throat.

“He said he misses you, that he doesn’t know what to do without you and that he wants you back.”

Your eyebrows draw together and your eyes feel hot with tears. Your heart hurts. After all, you still want him, deep down you do but you won’t take him back, not after everything he did. Not after the way he treated you, not after he cheated on you emotionally, not after he made you doubt everything, not after he told you that he never loved you, not after he left you for another girl. 

You look down to hide the tears in your eyes. After almost two months, you should be feeling better, you were starting feeling better but then he had to rip the bandaids of your wounds that he had given you. 

You don’t like crying in front of other people, you have never cried in front of Eddie before  but right now, you can’t really stop the tears from falling. It’s all just too much. 

“Hey,” Eddie whispers. His eyes soften and he doesn’t even hesitate before he opens his arms for you, offering you a hug that you so desperately need. You crawl over to him and let yourself fall into his arms. He wraps his arms around you as you lay your head on his chest. He rubs your back gently. “I’m here, I got you.”

You close your eyes and melt into the hug, this is what you needed. 

This is what he never gave you. The feeling of comfort and safety. The feeling of knowing that he won’t push you away again after a few minutes. 

You loved Steve – you love him. He was there but he was never with you. His mind was somewhere else, it always was. He gave you moments but he never gave you his all. With him you were never alone but god, you were so lonely. 

Eddie keeps holding you. The sound of your cries and the voices in the TV fill the silence in the room. 

He keeps rubbing your back, he plays with your hair and he doesn’t let go. 

Why couldn’t he just hold you like he does? 

“I know that this won’t make anything better but I think he loves you and he is starting to realize what he lost – only a man in love would get drunk at a bar he hates and break down in front of a guy he hates, also.” 

You sniffle and grip his shirt tighter. 

“Then why is he still with her? Why didn’t he love me before?”

“I think he always loved you, he was just too dumb to see and she,” he pauses, sighing. “She’s probably just a rebound now. Honestly, I think he was scared of all of this, his love for you. He was scared of it so he just threw it away and fucked it all up and now he’s following you around like some lost puppy.”

He does look like one, with his stupid brown eyes and the sad look in them. 

“Why are you telling me this, Eddie?”

He takes a deep breath, he looks down at you but you hide your face as you wipe your tears away. 

“I don’t know, I just think that he made a mistake and that the pain he put himself through shaped him into a different person,” he says, still glancing down at you, “I know you think that she changed him but that’s not the truth. I think he changed because of you – he’s still a dick and I don’t think that he deserves you but for what it’s worth, he does love you and he did love you even when he didn’t act that way but I saw the way he looked at you.”

You sniffle, trying to control your breathing as you look up at him, “what do you mean?” 

His eyes soften and he hugs you even tighter, “when you were still together, he always looked at you like.. shit, like you hung the moon and the stars,” he chuckles. “I was shocked when I found out that he left you for some other girl. Made no sense to me, still doesn’t, by the way.”

You don’t know whether his words make you feel better or worse. 

Eddie’s brown eyes are filled with sincerity and softness. 

He can’t understand how Steve could do this to you. How he could just treat you so horribly and break your heart so easily. 

“I think he really wants you back but I don’t think that he deserves a second chance, not yet.”

“Not yet?” 

“I’m not gonna say that he will ever deserve one but maybe–” he pauses, he sighs as he watches the tears rolling down your cheeks, “maybe he will change and maybe he will fight for you and maybe it will be worth giving him that chance.”

You scrunch your face up and slowly shake your head, “I can’t.”

“You don’t have to,” he says as he squeezes your arms, “it’s just, I can see that you love him and as much as I don’t like him or the idea of you going back to him, he really loves you too – it would be a shame if you both spend the rest of your lives longing for each other when you could just be together.” 

“What would you do?” You ask. You place your palms against his chest and you lean your chin on the top of your hands. “If you were in my place.”

He blinks and he stares at you for a long moment. 

“I would just focus on myself for now,” he mumbles. He reaches his hand out to touch your hair, running his fingers through it, “I would find things that I enjoy doing – not what I was forced to enjoy.” 

You look down and sigh. 

“I would try out new things, focus on school and I know that you will snatch that diploma, I’d get the hell out of here after that. Maybe in the future, you and Steve will find your way back to each other or maybe you will meet someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved,” he says.

You’re met with a soft look in his eyes when you raise your head to face him again. You smile at him. 

“You will snatch that diploma too, Eddie. I’ll help you.”

“I know you will,” he smiles. 

“And then we should get out of here together – we should move to LA so you can become the rockstar that you’re meant to be. We can rent a place together, I always wanted to live with a friend.”

He laughs at your words but then he falls quiet and his eyes flash with something you can’t read. 

“You know that might be a good idea.”

“I know it is.”

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we should actually do that.”

“Right?”

“Right,” he smiles.

“And what will you be?” He asks, turning his head to look at you as you lie back beside him. 

You lick your lips and stare at the new poster on his ceiling. What do you want to be? Who do you want to be?

You furrow your brows in concentration, a weird feeling settles in your chest. You don’t know. You don’t know anything, it seems like. Who even are you?

“I-I’m not sure.”

Eddie can sense the stress you’re feeling, he takes your hand in his, “hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to know yet.”

“I just.. I don’t even know what I want, Eddie,” you whisper, “I don’t even know who I am.”

You turn back to him, your sad eyes meet his. He squeezes your hand. 

“You’ll figure it out, I know you will and I’ll be there with you.” 

You maintain eye contact and scoot closer to him as you turn on your side. 

“You’re the best, Eddie.”

His eyes shift as he stares at you, he turns on his side as well, “nah, you are the best,” he smiles, tapping your nose the way he always does. 

“Don’t tell Heather or Chrissy but you might be my new best friend.” 

His eyes light up at your words and his smile widens, “only if you don’t tell Gareth and Jeff that you are my new best friend.” 

Your eyes widen, a giggle falls from your lips, “your secret is safe with me.”

“Yours is safe with me too.” 

“Pinky promise?” You ask as you hold your hand out to him. 

He laughs and brings his hand up, hooking his pinky around yours, “pinky promise.” 

You both fall silent as you look at each other with smiles on your faces. 

“Shit, who would’ve thought that I’d ever have the queen of Hawkins High in my bed.” 

“Shut up,” you laugh. 

For the rest of the night, you and Eddie talk about your lives after high school, dreaming about things that might never happen but it doesn’t matter, all that matters is the laughs you both share. You watch Friday the 13th and continue passing the joint back and forth, only making each other laugh harder by making fun of the movie that isn’t even funny. 

You are grateful for Eddie and for the love and kindness he is giving you. He has become your little beacon of hope. He is the one who makes you laugh now, he is the one who holds you when you need it the most, he is the friend that everything feels so natural with – even falling asleep in his arms when you’re in nothing but panties and his shirt. You wouldn’t have done that with any other guy but he makes you feel safe. 

When you wake up in his arms the next morning, you feel lost and confused for a second. His arms are wrapped around your waist and your head is on his chest, you can hear his heartbeat. For a moment, you thought you were somewhere else, in someone else’s arms but when you open your eyes and you are met with Eddie’s sleeping face, you relax a little. 

You can’t help but smile as you look at him. 

If Steve didn’t dump you, you wouldn’t be here. You would be in his bed right now. But you wouldn’t feel his arms around you, you wouldn’t feel his warmth, you wouldn’t feel him. You would wake up to a harsh reality, one where you continuously lied to yourself in order to keep him and to keep yourself happy. But were you ever happy? 

You miss him, despite what happened, you still miss him. 

But maybe it was for the better. 

Maybe it had to happen this way. 

You wouldn’t have Eddie now. You would have never become friends. And now, you wouldn’t trade this for anything in this world. This friendship has given you more than your relationship with Steve ever did. 

Yet, you still need closure. You want answers and a peaceful conversation. 

So you make the decision to try it. To try and talk and sort things out. You let go of him but there are still so many things that you don’t understand, things that will never give you if you don’t sit down and have that much needed conversation with him. 

When you show up at his house, later that night. You didn’t expect to see his parents' car in the driveway, next to his. You stand in the darkness for a moment, contemplating whether you should actually ring the doorbell or not. The lights are on in the kitchen and in the dining room. 

What if she is here?

What if they are having dinner together? 

Is she sitting in your spot now? 

Does his mom like her the way she always liked you? 

Does his dad hug her the way he hugged you whenever he saw you? 

You close your eyes and you take a deep breath, inhaling the cold air. You try to calm your heartbeat. Was it a good idea to come here? What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if–

You open your eyes and walk up the stairs, you ring the doorbell before your mind can convince you to turn on your heel and run. You can hear the faint sound of music in the house. 

You dig your nails into your palms as you grow more and more nervous. You bounce your knee and stare down at the snow beneath your boots. 

The door opens and you raise your head, for some reason you had expected Steve’s dad to open the door but instead it’s him. You watch as his eyes widen, they lighten up a little but they also flash with confusion. 

“Hi, can we talk?” 

next part

tagging friends & mutuals only!

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @hellfire--cult @taintedcigs @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @take-everything-you-can @nemesis729

[mcdynamite]

Nancy Wheeler has always been observant. It's something she prides herself on, if she's honest. It's what she knows will make her an excellent investigative reporter one day. It helps her make connections that other people might miss and remember the smallest of details that could make or break a story.

Perhaps most importantly, it's what makes her good at reading people – their micro-expressions, their body language, what makes them tick. She's good at it with anyone, but especially when it comes to the people she knows best.

So it's only logical that she's the first to notice when Steve starts to fall for Eddie Munson.

The signs are subtle, at first, but they're there, and Nancy can see them from a mile away. She's got the added bonus of having been the object of Steve's affections, once upon a time, so she knows what to look for. She knows that with Steve, it always starts with the lingering glances. He's never been able to keep his eyes off the people he wants, and it's this that first clues her in on the whole thing.

She's at Penny's Diner with Steve, Robin, and Eddie, and their waitress is laying it on thick, flirting relentlessly with Steve, batting her eyelashes dramatically and swaying her hips more than is objectively necessary whenever she walks away. And sure, Steve hasn't gone for any of the girls that act this way around him in a long time, but he always, always looks. Hell, even Nancy looks, sometimes, when a girl is objectively pretty. She's big enough to admit (to herself, at least) that boys aren't the only dating pool she's interested in, now that she and Jonathan are done.

But that day at Penny's, Steve doesn't give the poor waitress so much as a second glance, because that day, Steve can't seem to stop looking at Eddie.

At first, Nancy is sure she's imagining it – the way Steve's eyes linger on the dungeon master like he can't bring himself to look away – but it gets harder and harder to deny the longer they sit there sipping their milkshakes. Eddie is debating something silly with Robin, and Steve is just... watching him.

Steve's got this fond little smile on his face, and it's a look Nancy recognizes immediately. It used to be directed at her. And honestly? She's a bit relieved it's not, anymore, because she loves Steve, but not like that. Not the way she was worried Steve still loved her... the way she wonders if Steve might be falling for Eddie.

She sort of keeps an eye out for things, after that day – the little things that give Steve away when he's crushing hard on somebody. The lingering glances. The soft smiles. The brief touches. The flimsy excuses for stepping into Eddie's space, like the day Steve sees Eddie struggling with the lighter, and instead of just lending Eddie his own, he steps forward until their shoes are practically touching and holds up the flame for him.

She sees it all and wonders how in the world nobody else has caught on yet. Even Robin, Steve's best friend in the entire world, seems puzzled by the sudden lack of dates on Steve's calendar. Sometimes Nancy wants to grab her by the shoulders and tell her to just think a little harder.

(Nancy wants to grab Robin by the shoulders for other reasons, too – reasons that involve pulling Robin closer and kissing the living daylights out of her – but that's neither here nor there.)

But no matter how long Steve's pining lasts, no matter how obvious he's getting, nobody else seems to notice. It's mildly infuriating, but Nancy isn't about to talk to anyone else about it. It's dangerous being queer in this part of Indiana, and even though she knows that their little monster-fighting family won't care, it's still not her secret to tell.

It all comes to a head at a bonfire one night, midway through the summer, when the kids are once again grilling Steve on his sudden lack of a dating life. And it's Max who first cottons on to the most plausible explanation.

"Oh my God, wait, you like someone!" Max gasps midway through Dustin's interrogation.

There's a brief silence, and then the kids are all shouting.

"Oh, shit, Max, you're right. He totally does!" Dustin cries.

Steve tries to protest, but it's useless, because ever since Steve shed his royal persona two years ago, he's been a truly terrible liar. He looks like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and vaguely panicky, but Dustin Henderson has never been very good at letting things go.

"You have to tell us who it is!" Dustin presses. "We're your friends, Steve. Friends tell each other things. Unless..." Dustin gasps dramatically. "Unless she's someone we know..."

That shuts everyone up all at once, even Robin and Eddie, who have been having their own little conversation off to the side. Everyone stares at Steve, and then half of their eyes go to Nancy herself, and the other half land on Robin. It might make Nancy laugh, if Steve didn't look so close to throwing up.

"Right, well this is stupid," Steve says, smacking his hands on his knees and pushing up out of the chair. "I'm going to get another drink, and when I get back, we're dropping this."

He turns and hurries into the house, and Nancy glances around their little circle. Robin looks confused, but mostly worried. Eddie looks vaguely sick. And most of the kids just look shocked. They all start to murmur amongst themselves after the door slides shut behind Steve's retreating form. Nancy sees the way his whole body seems to sag, watching through the glass, and decides she's had enough.

She gets up, ignoring the way the murmuring gets louder as she walks, and follows him.

She finds Steve bent over the kitchen counter, palms pressed into the granite and head bent towards his chest. He looks like he's on the verge of panicking, and her heart aches for him. He's been through so much – some of which Nancy knows is her fault – and God, she just wants him to be happy for once.

"Steve?" she says softly.

Steve flinches at the sound of her voice, like he was so lost in thought he didn't even realize she'd followed him.

"There's something I wanted to-"

"Before you say anything, it's not you," he interupts flatly before she can finish. He pushes off the counter to look at her with sad, earnest eyes. "I know things were, like, weird when we were in the Upside Down, and we never really talked about it, but... I don't feel that way about you anymore. So you don't have to worry."

Nancy just blinks at him.

"That... that's what you wanted to talk about, right?" he asks.

"No, actually," Nancy says carefully. "I sort of knew you didn't feel like that about me, and I don't feel that way about you, so that's a non-issue, but..."

Steve looks relieved for a second, then tenses up again. "But...?" he says, raising an eyebrow.

"I, um... I think I might have an idea who it is – if Max is right, that is, and you really do like someone," she says.

Steve sighs. "It's not Robin, if that's what you're thinking."

"No," Nancy says softly, shaking her head. "No, it's not."

Steve frowns and averts his eyes, arms crossing protectively over his chest. He doesn't say anything.

Nancy considers her options. She wonders how she should play this, how to go about bringing this up. In the end, she just goes with her gut.

"Did you know I like girls?" she asks. It's the first time she's said it aloud to anyone, but it feels good. It feels like the right time. Besides, she wants to do this for Steve – to make him feel more comfortable. It's the least she can do.

Steve's eyes snap up to look at her again.

"I still like boys, too, but yeah... I like both, so..." She takes a deep breath. "If there was anything you wanted to tell someone about how you feel about... someone else... I'm not going to judge you."

Steve bites his lip. He looks painfully conflicted, and a little bit like he might cry. "I, uh..." he stammers. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath… clears his throat. "Okay first of all, thank you for trusting me with that, and you know I support you. I just want you to be happy, Nance."

Nancy nods, because she knows. She's always known. "That's what I want for you, too," she says. She takes a step forward and takes one of his hands in hers, because Steve's eyes are getting watery, and she hates seeing people cry. "You don't have to tell me, but if you want-"

"I think I like Eddie," Steve says suddenly, voice whisper-soft. He looks terrified when he meets Nancy's eyes again. "I, um... yeah. I like Eddie."

Nancy offers him what she hopes is an encouraging smile and nods. "Yeah, I kinda figured."

"Shit, am I that obvious?" Steve says weakly, and Nancy can't help but laugh softly.

"God, no," she says. "Well, to me, you are, but to everyone else? God, they're clueless. I promise you that nobody else has any clue, and it's been driving me crazy."

To her relief, Steve huffs out a soft laugh, as well. "Yeah, well, you've always been sort of freakishly observant, haven't you?"

It's true. She's always been like this, and that's precisely why she feels confident enough to make her next statement.

"You should tell him, Steve," she says.

Because Steve isn't the only person she's been watching for the past few months.

She's been watching Eddie, too, so she's seen Eddie's dopey, smitten smile whenever Steve makes a terrible joke. She's watched Eddie pull his hair in front of his mouth bashfully after Steve teases him. She's seen the blush on Eddie's cheeks whenever Steve steps into his personal space.

Steve Harrington isn't the only one who's been busy falling in love.

As usual, nobody else has noticed.

"No, absolutely not," Steve says, pulling his hand away and running both hands through his hair instead. "Are you crazy, Nance? He'll hate me!"

Nancy is pretty sure she deserves an Oscar for keeping her expression neutral, because the urge to roll her eyes is physically painful to resist.

"Steve," she says calmly. "I love you, and I love Eddie, but the two of you are idiots if you can't see how hard you've been pining over each other, and I am not above physically knocking your heads together to get you to realize that."

Steve's eyebrows disappear behind his hairline, and Nancy almost laughs. "Jesus, when did you get so threatening, Wheeler?" he grumbles, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. It's quickly swept away by fear, though, and Nancy's heart breaks a little when Steve looks at her with those puppy-dog eyes of his and asks, "What if you're wrong?"

She's only just opened her mouth to reply when the sliding door opens again, and someone else joins them in the kitchen.

Eddie's eyes dart back and forth between Nancy and Steve assessingly, and Nancy has to bite back a laugh because oh. Eddie was jealous.

"Sorry to interrupt," Eddie says, one eyebrow raised. "Just wanted to make sure everything was okay." He focuses his gaze on Steve, eyes softening. It's disgustingly adorable, how earnestly concerned he looks. "You doin' alright, Stevie? Kinda left in a hurry back there."

Steve glances at Nancy, face becoming redder by the second. Nancy smiles.

"Well I'm going to let you talk," she says casually. Steve's eyes nearly bug out of his head, but she puts both hands on his shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes before he can protest. "But to answer your question from before... I'm not wrong," she murmurs softly, so only Steve can hear. 

She pats him gently on the cheek and turns on her heel before Steve can respond, catching Eddie's eye on the way out. He looks perplexed, and she just smiles.

The kids hardly notice when she rejoins the circle around the fire. They've already moved on to topics that don't involve their babysitter's love life, but Robin still looks worried. It's cute. God, Robin is so cute, Nancy can hardly stand it.

"Is he okay?" Robin asks quietly. "He looked pretty upset when he left, and then you guys were gone for a while, and Eddie thought maybe you were getting back together, but I told him that was ridiculous, and now neither of them are back yet, and-"

"They're fine, I promise," Nancy says with a grin, interrupting Robin’s rambling. "They just... needed a little nudge."

Nancy gets to see the moment it clicks for Robin, and it's only a little bit hilarious. "Wait..." Robin says, mouth dropping open. "Steve...?"

Nancy nods, smile widening.

"And Eddie?"

"Yep," Nancy says. Robin looks on the verge of a massive freakout (a positive one, obviously, but a freakout nonetheless), and Nancy doesn't want her to unwittingly out both of the boys to the kids, so she changes the topic. She figures if she's making Steve deal with his feelings, she might as well do the same. You know, solidarity, and all that.

"By the way," Nancy says coolly, quietly, "did you know I'm bisexual?"

She has to cover Robin's mouth with her hand to stop her shriek of surprise, but it's worth it, because Robin instantly turns into a blushing, stuttering mess, and it's so stupidly endearing. Nancy wants to kiss her until neither of them can remember their own names.

It's even more endearing when Nancy tells her, "Yeah, so I'd really like to talk later, after the kids go to bed, if that's okay?" And Robin looks like she might faint when she blushes and whimpers out a yes.

Nancy just grins and threads their fingers together, hands tucked out of sight from the kids.

They're still sitting like that when Steve and Eddie finally come out of the house after a very long time, both boys looking flushed and a bit disheveled, but happy.

"Thought you were getting another drink?" Erica snarks at Steve when they sit down, and Nancy snorts, because Steve definitely returned empty-handed.

Steve's eyes widen and he looks at Eddie sheepishly. "I, uh... got a little distracted."

Only Max seems to recognize the implications, because her jaw drops, but Robin nudges her with her foot before she can say anything, and Max instantly shuts her mouth. She's still got a knowing look on her face, but Nancy knows she won't go outing anyone to the others. She's a good kid.

"God, you have the attention span of a puppy, Steve, I swear," Dustin grumbles, and the conversation quickly moves on.

Nancy is mostly quiet for the rest of the night, silently observing all of her friends and reveling in the feeling of Robin's hand in hers. She watches as Max tentatively rests her head on Lucas's shoulder. Watches Lucas's eyes widen and sees the internal freakout happening in his mind. She sees the way Eddie and Steve sit closer than before, practically on top of each other, faces flushed with happiness while they all make s'mores. She watches her brother look hopelessly confused sitting between Will and El, because he hasn't yet realized that while he is in love with one of them, it's not the one he thinks it is.

And at the end of the night, after the kids are all settled in the massive living room and she and Robin head for the guest room, Nancy catches Steve's eye. He and Eddie are holding hands now that they're out of sight of the kids, and Eddie can't stop staring at Steve like he's some sort of miracle. But just this once, Steve tears his eyes away from Eddie to meet Nancy's.

He smiles, mouths thank you, and gives an approving nod when his eyes land on her hand, which is still wrapped around Robin's.

Nancy just smiles and nods, and watches as Eddie impatiently tugs Steve into the bedroom and shuts the door. As Robin does the same to her, pulling her eagerly into the guest room, she has a wild thought.

If the investigative journalism thing doesn't work out, there's always the option of matchmaker.

She's apparently pretty damn good at it, after all.

And she's always been observant.

[hairmetal666]

Nothing Else Matters plays softly from the little cassette player Steve keeps next to the fridge. Eddie walks in and immediately pulls Steve into his arms, slow dances him around the kitchen.

The song ends and they laugh, wrestle around. There's something about the brightness in Eddie's big eyes, the blush across his cheekbones that gives Steve butterflies, has warmth gathering deep in his stomach.

They're not together.

But for the first time Steve realizes maybe there's a reason he hasn't gone on more than a first date since 1989.

[lovebugism]

what about fwb!steve and you tease him about going out with someone else and it leads to the most possessive sex ever

✶ ┄ SOMEBODY ELSE !

summary: steve doesn't realize he wants you until you tell him you want somebody else. pairing: slightly toxic!steve harrington / f!reader warning: good ol fashioned smut, 18+ mdni! a/n: this one... this one did something to me ngl

( MASTERLIST )

ok let’s talk about douchebag steve

and how he went through a phase where he would fuck anyone

this man could have the pick of anyone he wanted

no one ever turned him down because he’s literally king steve

and he also has the biggest dick imaginable <3

the first time he’s with you, you don’t treat him like a spectacle

there were no whispers the next day with his name entwined with yours like there normally is with everyone else

it’s kinda refreshing

but it's strange

how you act like the way you just let him fuck you doesn't mean anything to you

it has him coming back to you over and over again

and he isn’t totally used to that either

but really you just like to play with him

steve’s already got a huge ego

you don't want to feed it any more than it already is

so when you tell him that eddie munson invited you to his show and how you can’t wait to be his groupie, you know it’ll set him off

you just weren’t expecting him to fuck your brains out over it

you’re naked and on your stomach before you know it

steve’s got you whimpering and babbling nonsense underneath him as he grinds into quivering pussy from behind

and he’s ruthless

you can barely form an intelligible thought

but you’re gasping for him to let you come anyway

“yeah, i don’t think so, sweetheart… you forgot who this pussy belongs to— so i’ll let you come when i think you deserve it— alright, baby?”

it makes you keen pathetically beneath him at another rejection for a release you desperately, desperately need

“it’s your pussy— this is your pussy, baby— please”

you choke out a sob when he suddenly bottoms out inside your heat and holds himself there

he leans down until you’re practically squished beneath him

you feel his firm torso and fuzzy chest hair press into your sweat-slicked back

you whine as your walls flutter and tense around his cock

it makes it that much harder not to come around him

you feel his wet, kiss-bitten lips at the shell of your ear

“you want someone else to have you? you wanna give my pussy to someone who can’t fuck you like the slut you are? you think he can fuck you the way i do? huh? tell me—”

“no! no, baby, it’s just you— m’sorry.. m’so sorry, baby, please”

you sound so tired and so frustrated and so desperate to come

but steve’s determined to hold your orgasm hostage until you’re completely falling apart for him

until you can convince him that you don’t need anyone else but him

and when you do he’s completely relentless

he stays bottomed out inside you while he rubs your clit something fierce

“who can make you come like i do?”

“no one. 's just you, stevie. just you”

“then show me”

and you do, almost immediately

still pressed between him and the mattress, your body twitches and trembles beneath him

your fluttering pussy around his cock coupled with idea that “no one makes you come like he does” has him not too far behind you

you feel his hips speed up and stutter as he spits several loads of his come within your velvet walls

and even though he was just being so mean to you

steve makes sure to take good care of you after

like he always does <3

he makes sure you’re okay, cleans you up, and gives you some water

you take a lengthy sip and he watches you intently

“still good?”

you nod

“just for the record… i was never gonna fuck eddie.”

“yeah, i know :)”

got any blurb requests? send 'em here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

[lihhelsing]

Eddie knew this was the last time. 

Steve hadn’t said anything. At least not explicitly. But he had been slowly pulling away for the last month. Ever since the fucking incident. 

Eddie was still mortified about it but Steve had done his best to just brush it off as if it was nothing. And at the same time he had started pulling away and Eddie wasn’t dumb. He knew how those things worked. This wasn’t his first rodeo with frat boys and if he was being honest it probably wouldn’t be his last. 

But this one might be just the one to break his heart. 

He didn’t mean to fall in love with Steve Harrington, but with him making all those pretty noises under him like he was doing right now Eddie wondered how could he have /not/ fallen in love with him. 

He could feel the goodbye in every one of Steve’s touches. He was holding on to Eddie as if he couldn’t afford to let go, eyes rolling to the back of his head as Eddie moved inside of him. 

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Eddie whispered, hands gripping his flattened hair. Steve’s cap was always the first thing to go, whenever they found themselves with enough alone time, and Eddie liked he was probably one of the only people to see him like that. No armor. No president of the Delta Chi. Just Steve. 

His Steve. 

“Harder,” Steve asked. Begged, really, in that soft, punched out tone that always drove Eddie completely crazy. And Eddie knew what he was doing. 

They fucked hard, sometimes. When they were in a rush or when they were drunk or when Steve had stayed away for too long. It made them desperate for each other.

But now Steve was begging for something else. He was begging for Eddie to go harder so he could pretend this wasn’t tearing them apart. So he could pretend there weren’t feelings involved. 

And how could he pretend that when Eddie was kissing him softly on the lips and whispering sweet nothings in his ear and fucking him like he loved him? Like he would let Steve break his heart. 

“Shh, let me make you feel good, Stevie,” Eddie asked, biting back the rest of his words. Let me make you feel good one last time. 

Steve groaned and buried his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Eddie wanted to look at his face as he undid him one last time but Steve wasn’t good with feelings so Eddie let him hide away. 

The party was still going outside of Steve’s room, but for a little while longer, it would be just the two of them. They were all that mattered while they were inside this room. Even if Eddie knew they were moving fast towards the end. 

Even if Eddie knew things would get awkward because Steve couldn’t fucking handle feelings. They would kiss and Steve would rush to get his clothes and his cap back on, hoping for whatever protection that frat boy persona could bring him. 

But he and Eddie both knew there was no hiding from each other anymore. They had gone too far, too deep. Eddie already knew the twists and turns of Steve’s heart and soul. Knew what made him scared, what made him hurt. 

He would pretend, though. For Steve’s sake. He would watch him walk away one last time, cute butt fitting perfectly in his preppy clothes. He would pretend his heart wasn’t following. He would pretend it didn’t hurt. 

And he wouldn’t come back to Delta Chi ever again. 

Part II

[rebelfell]

Soooo still not done with thoughts of Eddie and an older!fem!Harrington!reader…3k

18+, MDNI cont’d from here

That first night goes on forever.

You don’t think you’ll forget it as long as you live. On your deathbed, you’re sure your last thoughts will be of Eddie Munson and the night he fucked you into oblivion and beyond.

There’s no stopping either one of you. There’s no way to tire of one another. It’s all a blur of tangled sheets and writhing bodies streaked in sweat, of filthy words and ragged breaths, of desperate cries of pleasure you can’t suppress.

The party still going on is enough to drown out your sounds as you fall into your bed, having just enough wherewithal to shut off your light so no one sees your shadows in the window.

Everyone downstairs is too plastered by now to notice anyway. But still.

Eddie is insatiable—drawing out your every orgasm, barely letting one taper off before he’s working you back up towards the next. You nearly want to cry from the overstimulation, but you’ll be damned if you’re tapping out anytime soon.

He takes you apart over and over and over, his fingers, his tongue, his cock all taking their turns with you in an endless fucking cycle.

Literally.

He’s like a goddamn energizer bunny. It’s the kind of sex like you haven’t had since college when you would fuck anything that moved just because you could. It makes you feel chosen and wanted and desired in a way you haven’t felt in years.

Being with Eddie is like indulging in the sweetest, most exquisite dessert—like pure decadence and freedom and fucking bliss.

Again, literally.

At one point, you’re going at it so hard, so vigorously, that you slide right off the bed and tumble together to the floor. But Eddie doesn’t miss a beat. He merely drives himself inside you with all the more determination, the wet clap of his thighs hitting yours bouncing off the walls to mix with your eager and wanton moans.

Yes, Eddie, ohhh god, yes—fuck, that’s it, right there, HARDER—

You lose track of how many times he makes you come, too swept up in the storm of his affections, his rough voice in your ear and his teeth nipping any place he can leave a mark where it won’t be seen. It’s fast, and hot, and dirty—yet somehow he’s still taking his time with you. He’s taking note of what makes you throw your head back into the pillow, or slap your hand over your mouth to stifle a wail, or grip his ass to push him in deeper.

And Eddie is…in heaven.

For weeks, he’s thought of nothing but this. He’s never felt this way before. So free.

There’s no need to hold himself back or disguise his deepest desires anymore. He can finally show you exactly how much he wants you. He’s allowed to be greedy with you and touch you in every way he’s imagined. Except that now it’s so much better, because it’s real.

His mind could never conjure a fantasy as detailed as this—the warmth of your skin under his hands, the shivers that ripple down your back when he kisses behind your ear, the soft hairs that tickle his nose as he buries his face in your neck and inhales your heavenly scent.

And he feels you letting go, too.

You kiss him back zealously, fervently, hungrily. Your hands are voracious as you explore his body, running over his chest and arms, relishing in every twitch of his muscles, nails digging in his skin to leave hot red streaks in their wake as you drag them down the length of his back.

The party ends eventually, but sleep is the furthest thing from your minds.

Steve never even makes it upstairs. He passes out on a pool lounger with the tip of his nose blacked out and some whiskers drawn on his cheeks in Sharpie, courtesy of Robin.

When Eddie slips on his boxers to go downstairs for sustenance, he lays a Gatorade in his friend’s lap, sets a wastebasket by his head, and places a pair of sunglasses over his eyes.

In his sleep, the birthday boy mumbles something that sounded like mashed potato soup and Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a twinge of guilt deep down in his stomach. But the thought of you waiting for him upstairs, and the memory of your body wrapped around his, and the sound of your voice moaning his name so sweetly, promptly snuffs the feeling out.

Between rounds, it’s all soft and gentle touches in stark contrast to the ravenous way you devoured one another. You take the opportunity to examine every tattoo, every faint freckle, every scar. You ask for the stories about them, which he’s quick to tell—all except the one about the gash on his index finger he got trying to feed a cupcake to a raccoon that lived in the trailer park.

You fight back your giggles as he describes his Uncle Wayne scuffing him like a cat by the back of his shirt and hauling him into his truck, ranting and raving about rabies the whole time as he raced across town to urgent care.

“And you were how old?” you ask, imagining him to be six or seven, max, only for him to sheepishly admit he was nineteen at the time.

You keep expecting him to make some excuse to slip away, to slink back across the hall to the other guest room, maybe even to leave altogether now that he’s gotten what he wants. But he’s resistant. He asks if he can stay with you, if he can hold you until you fall asleep, and swears he’ll sneak out in the morning before Steve has woken up.

And you know that it’s too risky. You know it’s stupid for you to agree. But you do.

Because it’s impossible to deny him when he looks at you like that. When he smiles at you all soft and tender. When he kisses you and pulls you into his arms again and again, like he truly cannot get enough of you. Like in all the places you see flaws, all he sees is perfection.

If you thought Eddie hung around the house a lot before, it was nothing compared to now.

He’s there just about every day, especially every night. And the Harrington lawn has never looked so good. He’s tending to it constantly, mowing grass and pruning the trees, planting fucking perennials like his life depends on it.

Any excuse to see you.

And if it happens to be a day when Steve is away, you even let yourself indulge a little. Laying out by the pool to watch Eddie work, coyly offering him sunscreen—which he almost declines until he sees the suggestive arch of your brow and clumsily starts stripping off his shirt.

His head rolls on his shoulders and he groans loudly in relief as your hands run over him, taking special care of his tattoos as the tropical smelling cream glides across his slippery skin. Then he snatches the bottle himself and smirks as he motions for you to turn.

In spite of the heat, you shiver as he runs his fingers up and down your spine, toying with the strings that tie your suit at the nape of your neck. His hands slide forward, squeezing at your waist and tugging you back against him to feel just how hard he is in his shorts.

He presses his hot lips to your ear and begs you to let him have you right there, right now, but you are firm in your refusal. The fence and trees that surround the yard are tall, but there are eyes everywhere and you can’t stomach the risk.

This is dangerous enough as it is.

So you retreat inside, where he takes you apart for the rest of the afternoon, the stainless steel of the fridge cold against your burning body when he pins you up against it and sinks down to his knees to bury his face between your legs.

And it’s all a bad decision. A bad, bad decision. But it’s one you can’t seem to stop making.

You make it over and over and over again.

In your bedroom, late at night. In the early morning, when he has you bent over the kitchen island. When you’re bouncing up and down in his lap on the leather sofa in the den, or in the giant jacuzzi tub in your sister’s bathroom.

You just keep making it.

You know you should feel guilty. You know eventually it has to end. You know you can’t keep this up forever. And yet somehow, none of that knowledge is enough to stop you.

Because all things considered…it’s going well.

Eddie is sweet to you. He dotes on you. He fucks you like an animal in heat and then tucks folded up notes in your hand while you sleep before he slips out of your room with the dawn. He puts you first—before himself, before anything. He ignites something in you, something you haven’t felt for years, a flame you thought had burnt out long ago into a pile of ash.

It’s like you’ve been trapped underwater so long you forgot what it felt like to breathe real air. And you fill your lungs with him to the brim again and again—certain you’ll never get enough.

His hands touch every part of you with pure devotion and his lips kiss yours like it’s an act of worship. Like you’re the only deity he’s ever sought. The only one he’ll ever serve.

But every day the calendar counts you another step closer to your sister’s return, the thick and humid haze of summer having reached its peak and starting to bleed at the edges. Danger lurks on the horizon like a storm cloud, lying in wait for the chance to blot out your sun.

Then the rain comes.

You come home one day to find Eddie and Steve in the middle of an argument. From the looks of it this conversation has been going on for a while and neither seems pleased to be having it.

“Come on, man!” Steve whines, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s one night. Bailey can’t go unless she can bring her cousin. Please?”

“I just don’t feel like going out,” Eddie counters weakly. He rubs a ringed hand across the back of his neck, his face full of guilt like he knows exactly how shitty of an excuse it is.

“Why? Because you wanna sit around the house all night? Again?” Steve scoffs. “What’s up with you? You’ve been like a monk all summer.”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink and his jaw clenches as he frowns, muttering something under his breath as he stares at his feet. If he’s defending himself, it’s not all that convincing. Luckily, Steve is too entrenched in his own agenda to call him out.

“Look, she’s from New York. She’ll probably love your whole edgy…thing.”

He smiles fondly as he gestures to his friend’s shredded jeans and loose-hanging Dio tank top, but all it elicits from Eddie is a distasteful sound from the back of his throat. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, but stop short when they land on you standing in the entry way.

“Um…hi,” he whispers, staring like your eyes are the high beams on a freight truck.

“Hey,” you reply, slipping off your sandals at the door. “What are you guys up to?”

“Oh, you know,” Steve sighs dramatically. “The hottest girl in town finally agreed to go out with me, but I can’t go because Eddie’s the worst wing-man in the history of the planet.”

Eddie’s head drops in shame again and you know those big, pleading eyes of his are dying to look at you. You feel like you can almost see him fighting the urge to turn his head right up until the moment he loses the uphill battle.

“You should go,” you tell him when his eyes find yours. “It sounds like fun.”

The words are like bile in your throat as you hurry past them to the kitchen, pausing at the door to look back at them over your shoulder.

Eddie’s eyes bulge with hope.

“Don’t, um…don’t forget about curfew,” you warn before you disappear.

Neither of them follows.

They keep arguing, the words muffled by the wood paneling you collapse against as you listen through the wall and wait…wait for what, exactly, you aren’t sure. But Steve must finally convince Eddie to go, because the next thing you hear is them shuffling through the door and tires that screech as Steve’s Beemer speeds away.

The silence that descends is oppressive. It makes the empty house feel cavernous and gaping like a wound. You scramble to put on a record, needing something to drown out your racing thoughts.

A lot of good it does, though.

You pace the rooms like a racetrack, certain you can see the furrows you leave in the carpet as you make your tenth or eleventh pass. All the while telling yourself you have no right to be upset.

Because Eddie should go on dates. He should be able to walk through Starcourt Mall with someone special, to lace his fingers with theirs as he asks if they want to share a box of Red Vines.

He shouldn’t have to hide, reduced to skulking in the shadows like some filthy and shameful secret. Even with the way he cloaked himself in mystery and attitude, it wasn’t enough to disguise the brightness that bubbled underneath.

It’s these thoughts and a hundred others that have you pacing right up until the moment you hear Steve’s car pulling into the driveway and the sound of laughter as four pairs of footsteps make their way up the front walk. And before you can think better—or think at all—you sprint to the top of the staircase and listen from the dark recess of the hall as they all stumble inside together.

Steve suggests having some beers by the pool and Bailey agrees. But the other girl—Eddie’s girl, you think, a bit more bitterly than you have any right to—is ready to call it a night.

“Hey, Eddie?” she asks in her high, cutesy voice. “Think I can get a ride home?”

“Ahh…I was actually gonna crash here toni—”

“Dude. Don’t be a dick,” Steve scolds playfully.

And that’s that, apparently.

It’s long past midnight by the time he’s knocking at your door. And before you can even whisper a greeting, he’s pulling you into his arms, almost crushing you he’s holding on so tight.

He goes slower than you’re used with him. He makes no move to tug off your clothes or slip his hand between your thighs. He doesn’t grind into you all rough and desperate, just presses himself close against you and whispers soft and sweet between long and languid kisses.

“Thought about you all night,” he murmurs, his lips skimming your temple. “She tried to kiss me and I felt sick to my stomach.”

“You don’t have to say that, Eddie,” you mutter back. “It’s okay if you like her.”

It makes his eyes flash with disgust, horrified you would even suggest such a thing, but the thought flies straight out his head as your hand begins to wander freely down his body, wrapping around his hardness through his jeans.

He groans at your touch, biting down into the pillow next to your head to muffle the sound, he’s so achingly hard in your delicate grasp.

You undress without a glimmer of haste to your movements. It feels like a dance to an old, old song. The kind that played from a gramophone in an empty gymnasium with crepe paper flowers hung from the ceiling. And when he fills you up, sliding easily inside to the hilt, you’ve never felt as close to another person as you do to him right now. His thrusts are steady and deep, reaching your most uncharted depths. And it seems so absurd to think it’s possible there is any part of you he hasn’t yet reached, but you’re sure he’s never been as deep as he is now.

His face stays close to yours, your breaths mixing as you pant and gasp into one another’s mouths, and he loses himself in you—in the way your heels hit the backs of his thighs, your legs tightening around him as you match his thrusts with rolls of your hips; how the weight of him and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubs against your clit like two flint stones striking sparks to make a bonfire; how your hands grapple for purchase on his sweaty back, needing to hold onto him for dear life as you rush towards your release.

His necklace dangles around his neck and his guitar pick lays flat against your chest, the ball chain clinking softly in time with his thrusts. It’s almost like you’re wearing it instead of him and just that thought—the idea of it hanging around your neck, of everyone knowing you were his and only his—has him careening over the edge.

You start to come apart around him and he lets himself go with you, releasing a long and guttural groan as he empties into the condom faster and harder than he ever has before. Your hand grasps at the back of his neck under the warm curtain of his curls, nails digging in so deep that it makes you both whimper as you press trembling kisses to each other's lips.

It’s quiet as you bask together in the aftermath, the receding tides of your gratification lapping around your ankles, hearing only the sound of your labored breaths expelling. It dwarves you, almost. It’s so serene, so peaceful, you worry anything you say next will only spoil it.

Eddie pulls back to look at you, his eyes shiny either with tears or from the moonlight reflecting in them, sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, his softening cock still buried in your warmth.

“I wanna take you somewhere,” he whispers.

And in what feels like an instant, you have snuck out of the house and are sitting with him in the back of his van, rear doors thrown wide open so you can look out at the vast expanse of Lover’s Lake. He’s got his back up against one side with you resting against him, curled up in his arms with an old blanket draped around you both.

He found his way to this secluded spot on the gravelly bank so easily, you’re sure he’s parked here many times before. And you can’t say you’re entirely surprised. Boundless stars overhead and below, reflecting in the perfectly still water. Full moon glowing like a spotlight, a sultry rock song drifting out of his speakers instead of his usual thundering metal fare.

Pretty much impossible to resist, you think as you lay against his chest and chuckle, “This where you bring all the girls?”

“Used to be,” he murmurs, stroking your arm.

“Not anymore, hm?”

You’re teasing, but he’s turned solemn. His face is set wth seriousness as he tips your chin to look at him, eyes plundering into your soul and fingers tracing featherlight along your jaw.

“No,” he says. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

And there’s something different in his gaze as he says it. Something that makes your spine go rigid and your shoulders tense as you flex away from him. Something that makes your skin turn clammy and cold.

“Eddie,” you start, “Don’t say anything stupi—”

“I’m in love with you.”

prev│next

requested tags: @cryingglightningg @the-unforgivenn @hellfire--cult @saramelaniemoon @skyfullofsong123 @tlclick73 @winchester-angel @nope-thanks ♥️

[youmakemyhearthowl]

Steve sometimes worried, well okay he worried all the time, but sometimes he worried specifically that he was doing the same thing to Eddie that he’d done to Nancy. 

Although he wasn’t really sure exactly what he’d done wrong with Nancy. But it seemed reasonable that it was his fault. He wasn’t the best back then, even if he tried really hard to be for her.

It’s just, sometimes it seems like Eddie gets a similar look on his face, a similar look to the one Nancy would make when she’d tell him he needed to chill out, stop smothering her so much. When she’d told him he was bullshit. And he can’t really be sure, Robin tells him all the time he’s terrible at reading facial emotions when he’s worried, but it seems like the same look. And he’s worried, terrified really, that he’s going to ruin whatever it is he’s building with Eddie before they’ve even really started.  So he goes to the smartest person he knows (besides Dustin) and the only person he’s ever loved like this.

He goes to Nancy.

And she doesn’t tell him what he wants to hear, doesn’t sugar coat it or make it sweet. She practically rips his heart out and stomps on it, but it’s why he went to her in the first place. Nancy is honest.

“Well sometimes Steve, you’re a little much you know? Clingy and loud with your love, it’s a bit embarrassing to be on the receiving end of it a lot of the time, and maybe you’re making him uncomfortable with it.” 

And well- that makes sense really.

Too much but never enough is what he’s always been. To his parents, his peers, Steve doesn’t know how to love halfway because he was never shown the right way to love. He only knows the way to make someone feel unloved and he refused to ever let anyone feel that way if he cared.

So he pulls back, not much at first cause it’s hard to not love Eddie loudly, but slowly he thinks he gets the hang of it. Clings less, acts less giddy, pulls his feelings in really tight and tucks them into his rib cage where they can’t get out. And Eddie stops making that face. 

He makes a new one now.

This one makes Steve’s skin crawl and nausea pull in his stomach, but he can’t place the emotion it is, has no idea. But Eddie makes it in the places where Steve would have been louder before. Makes it when he looks at Robin and thinks Steve isn’t looking at them. Makes it when Steve makes himself smaller. 

He doesn’t know what the face means, and he’s more worried now than he was before, because Robin has taken to making the face at him too, and really it was only a matter of time before he exploded about it. 

“Okay what is that face? I don’t know what that face means, please for the love of god what does that face mean?” His voice is loud and desperate when he grabs her shoulders, the surprise from her erases the facial expression he hates so much, but he knows it was there. 

“This is just my face, Steve.” She smirks slightly at him, he can tell she knows he’s being serious, but he also knows Robins never been good with serious unless the world is ending, so he tries to hold in his irritation. 

“The one you make every time Eddie’s brought up now. The same one he makes at me all the time. I thought I was being better you know? I tried really fucking hard to not be too much to him all the time and I thought it worked cause he stopped- he stopped looking at me a certain way. But now there’s a new face and your face also adopted the face and I’m at a loss.” He breathes heavily, leaning out of Robin's space and running his hand through his hair before bringing it down to pinch the bridge of his nose. He can feel a slight moisture there and it’s more than a little embarrassing that he’s trying not to cry about a facial expression, but fuck it, it’s Robin.

“Steve, what do you mean by being better?” It’s the sorrow he can detect in her voice that really brings the tears to the surface now, and he pinches the bridge of his nose harder, willing them to go away, but they fall anyways. 

“I’m too much you know? When I love someone. Too loud about it, too clingy, people don’t like that and I didn’t want to scare Eddie off. Cause I get it now, people won’t ever be able to love me when I love them like that so I have to be quieter, less… obnoxious.” His voice gets softer but the words feel rougher to push out of his throat the more he talks. And he can’t stand to look at her, can’t stand to look up, can feel the shame and embarrassment fucking breaking him. 

“Who the fuck told you that?” The voice that speaks now, is not, in fact, Robin. But deeper and filled with a harsh sharpness that causes Steve to flinch slightly. 

And of course, of course Eddie would walk in and hear this pathetic ramble about how little Steve Harrington loved so much that it scared off everyone else. It’s really just the icing on the shit cake that is his life lately.

He doesn’t want to, but he looks up.

He looks up just in time to see Robin place her hand on Eddie’s shoulder, looks up slowly enough to see the tremble in Eddie’s hands that never really went away after Vecna. 

“No one had to tell me. I could see it on your face every time I was too much, Nancy used to get the same expression. Near the end.”  Eddie scoffs a bit, not moving forward but not moving away as Robin steps closer to Steve, reaching her hand out to take his gently. 

“Steve,” it’s strained in a way Steve’s never heard his name from Eddie before, tight and clipped, “Whatever face you thought you were seeing before, wasn’t like- fuck,” he shakes his head slightly tugging at the strands of his hair with one hand, “It was awe Steve. Every goddamn time you loved me loudly like that, I was in awe, and maybe a bit confused because people don’t- people don’t love like that. People don’t love me like that, and queer people really don’t ever show that kind of love that openly. I was in awe, Steve.” 

Which- was not the answer Steve had braced for, and he can feel all the air leave his lungs harshly, slumping his shoulders down, and looking away from the two people in front of him. Robin squeezes his hand gently.

“And the look you see now isn’t something bad directed at you. Never directed at you. Steve, it was hurting us to watch you make yourself smaller and we had no idea why or what happened. You’re literally my capital P soulmate Steve, the way you love makes me happy, overwhelmed in the most wonderful way I’ve never experienced before. Because Eddie’s right, people don’t love like you. But that’s not a bad thing. God it’s so far from a bad thing.” Steve can see where Eddie’s moved closer now, his Reeboks coming into view next to Robin's red chucks. 

“There’s no one quite like you Steve Harrington. And any look you get from me, unless it’s about your music taste, it’s always a positive one. Your ‘too much’ is so much more than enough.” 

Steve can really feel the tears falling now, doesn’t even try to stop them this time because this- this right here is what being loved loudly feels like. This right here is everything he’s been searching for his whole life, and they’ve been trying to tell him that for weeks, probably months at this point.

He can feel them surrounding him, Eddie against his back and Robin pressed to his chest, their arms looping him and each other as they hug him, and love him, for being who he’s always tried to be. Who he’s been pushing to become since he realized he hated who he was. 

“There is never anything wrong with being loud about your love. Something that’s too much for someone else, will be exactly enough for the right person. Everyone needs to be loved differently and everyone shows love differently, Steve. But the right people for you will fucking cherish the way you love.” Eddie breaths into his ear, and Steve can feel a part of himself click back together again. 

So yea, Steve worries sometimes, that he’s too much, that he’s never enough, but Robin and Eddie, they’ll always be there to remind him he’s just right for them.

[msgexymunson]

One Slow Blink Part 1

Description: As a nurse, you want to help people, as many as you can. But, with the insane things that have been going on in Hawkins, and the crazed look in Dustin's eyes when he stumbles into the ER covered in blood with an impossible tale to tell, it makes you wonder; how much are you prepared to give? 

Warnings: NSFW, Minors DNI, *Here there be monsters! Honestly, there's straight up monster fucking in this so if you're not into that do not read*, AFAB sub nurse reader x dom monster Eddie, kinda Alpha/Omega without them knowing it, injury descriptions, S4 does happen and Eddie lives but he be a monster, hand job, fem oral receiving, male oral receiving, consensual predator/prey dynamic, fingering, very rough sex, biting/marking, unprotected p in v, knotting.

A/N: Part 1 of 2, only due to Tumblr restrictions. Adding the second part in a minute. This has come from yet another deranged dream of mine. I imagine Eddie looking kinda like a mix between the Beast from the original Beauty and the Beast, and the dog/kangaroo guys from Tank Girl, but with a longer snout. If you don't know, that's a dirty mix between a lion, a bear, a wolf and maybe a little of Venom's tongue (because I am a whore.)

22k words in total for both parts, I know, mental, but it's worth it ;)

Masterlist Part 2

Tires screech off of the road and onto a dirt path as Nancy turns erratically in her station wagon, the whole car shuddering in protest. Her hands are shaking on the wheel; so much so that you place a placating hand on her knee to try to calm her down. 

You didn't know Nancy, not really. Hell, you only knew Dustin because he came into the hospital for a nasty cut on his leg when he fell off his bike three months ago. Then all of a sudden he shows up in the emergency room covered in blood, grime matted into his curly locks and tear streaks cutting through the dirt on his face. 

He swore until he was blue in the face that it wasn't his, that he needed a doctor, anyone that could help. You tried and failed to convince him to call an ambulance but he insisted that no one else in the hospital would understand. 

There was something about the desperate look in his eyes. It was frightening; those innocent eyes were hard, harder than they had any right to be. Dustin had seen something no child should have had to witness. With Max being admitted blind and unconscious with both arms and legs broken, and all the talk about strange occurrences around town, not to mention the freak earthquakes, it wasn't difficult to believe. But there was something he was not telling you, you were sure of it. Who comes to the ER without a patient and begs a nurse to come with them?

A feeling had settled in the pit of your stomach. The same thing had happened when the mall caught on fire. A feeling that things weren't what they at first glance appeared. Something strange and unnatural was going in, you were sure of it.

Maybe that's why you stole a trauma kit out of an ambulance. Maybe that's why you got in the car, pushed into the front seat by Dustin and Nancy. Maybe that's why you're being bundled out of said car and running through the woods, bracken cutting your ankles through your scrubs and leaves whipping at your face. 

A light in the distance cuts through the dark, glowing and growing as you quickly approach. A small cabin, you see, ramshackle and falling apart. Stepping towards it, you're about to go in when a bellowing roar echoes throughout the woods and into your chest, vibrating your very lungs and stealing your breath away. The kind of roar that makes your survival instincts run wild, telling you to flee. You would listen to it, if your gut wasn't telling you that you were right where you were supposed to be. 

A minute later, Steve is slamming the front door open, looking dishevelled. There's crimson smeared on his cheek; two long cuts run from temple to jaw dripping blood. 

“Is he why-” 

“Henderson, what the hell dude! You can't just bring anyone here!” 

“I know Steve! She can help, she's a doctor-” 

“Nurse, actually,” you interrupt rather sheepishly. 

Steve rubs his hand through his mussed up hair and takes a pace backwards.

“Great, that's just great. When I told you to get someone-” 

Dustin's response is high pitched and hard, tuning through the clearing. 

“I did. I got someone! It's not like I could freaking advertise!” 

“Look, you said you need help. What can I do?” 

Steve and Dustin exchange dark glances. 

“Alright, you better come with me.”

He heads back inside and you follow quietly wondering what the hell you've gotten yourself into. 

The cabin is quaint, and clearly used to be a well loved home a while ago. Now however, there's a gaping hole in the ceiling and dust trailed across the living area. Robin is sitting on an old sofa, you remember her being in band at school. She looks terrible, cracking her knuckles and mumbling to herself incoherently. 

“He's through here.” 

You trail Steve as he leads to a door that's slightly ajar. Pushing it open with one finger he leans on the doorframe and gestures with the other hand at the most impossible thing you've ever seen in your life. 

“What… is that?” 

“That is Eddie.” 

There's a figure strapped to a double bed with strips of fabric bound to its wrists and ankles. Torn clothing is clinging to parts of it, and what skin you can see is a mass of blood and hair. No, not hair. Fur. Its spine seems wrong, curving more than a humans, and its fingers are thick and adorned with semicircular black claws. The face is not recognizable anymore. You see a huge maw, lips curled in anger with razor sharp teeth on display and spit gathering down its matted chin. That's been bound too; a leather belt wrapped tight around it, you assume to stop it biting. It writhes around on the bed, snarling and growling deep in its throat as various wounds bleed out in front of you. One of its arms, if you could call it that, is bent at an odd angle and seems to be limp compared to the rest of it. 

Standing there open-mouthed, you gawp at the thing.

“You said this is- this is Eddie??” 

“Listen, I know it's insane-” 

You step into the room, pulled by an invisible thread. It turns its head and looks straight into your eyes. Wide, warm eyes, full of pain, pleading with you. They're a soft brown, burnt umber, with a whisper of honey and summer days. Familiar eyes. Human eyes. 

“Its- his arm is broken I think, and these wounds… isn't he wanted for-” 

“He didn't do it. He could never. Just- just do what you can. Please. He- he's a hero.”

Standing by the edge of the bed, you reach out with shaking fingers to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He whips his head around, jaw inches from your trembling hand. His chest is heaving, arm struggling against its bindings. 

“Eddie.” 

You kneel to his eye level and stroke softly at the tatters of his t-shirt. He looks panicked, wide eyes rolling like a cornered animal as he continues to struggle. 

“Eddie, I'm here to help you.” 

Nothing but low growls and broken whines come from his tightly bound maw. The thrashing intensifies; he nearly lifts the bed up with sheer force. Steve takes a step back, but not you. 

You climb up on the bed and straddle his floundering form. Blood smears your scrubs as you grasp his head firmly and turn it to face you. 

“Eddie Munson, you listen to me right now! Stop squirming and listen!” 

The silence is deafening, ringing in your ears. He stops his incessant battle against his confines and looks at you, the look of a frightened boy. 

Voice softening, you stroke at the newly grown fur on his cheek. It's soft and warm. 

“Eddie, do you remember me? We used to have English class together two years ago, with Mrs O’Donnell? You sat next to me. Remember?” 

A flash of recognition dawns behind those soft brown eyes. 

“You were late nearly everyday. You used to draw amazing things in your notebook, all sorts of creatures and symbols and I thought it was incredible. You- any time you caught me looking at you, you winked. You know I nearly failed that class because I was too busy staring at you, seeing what you'd do next?” 

His breathing starts to slow down, his heaving chest moving up and down almost rhythmically now. 

“You are Eddie Munson. You're in there, I can tell. I know you're scared, I get it, but I need to try and treat you. OK?” 

He breathes deep, and something akin to a nod happens which seems to hurt him judging by the way his face tightens. 

“Right. Stay still. I need to try and set your arm. I've got some painkillers in the trauma bag, so I'll need to inject you. Can you- can you blink once for yes, twice for no?” 

He closes his eyes slowly, tight shut, and then opens them again. 

“That's it, that's good. I'll be back.” 

Clambering off his huge form, you turn to Steve who is already clutching the bag in his hands. 

“That was- how did you do that?” 

Filtering through the bag to find what you need, you pull out a syringe and unpack it, and find the drugs you're looking for and start setting up the needle. 

“Listen, if I think about this too much I'm gonna panic, so shut up. I've never done this before.” 

A strange calmness has descended upon you. Taking the needle you move back to Eddie's side and find a vein in his muscular arm. 

“Eddie, I'm gonna inject you with some painkillers to take the edge off, OK?” 

One slow blink. 

“Good. You'll feel a scratch, doing it now.” 

Once the drugs hit his system you know they've helped as the tension seems to leave his body. 

“I need to set his arm, can you try and hold him steady?” 

Steve looks like he'd rather run for the hills, but to his credit he nods and approaches. 

“Right, hold up by his shoulder there, keep him still.” 

You untie his limp wrist and Eddie whimpers when his arm falls to the bed. 

“Now, Eddie, this is gonna hurt like hell, but once it's done it'll feel alot better.” 

Instead of counting down you just arrange his arm into what you think is the right place and twist in one smooth motion. 

Eddie's body convulses; you can see Steve trying to push all his weight into him, knuckles white from the pressure. The howling growl that rips from Eddie is muffled by the leather strap around his muzzle, and then it cuts off. 

Eddie is completely still. After a second, a snarling snore fills the room. 

“I think he passed out.” 

“That's probably for the best. Now I need two straight sticks or something, and the bandages from my bag. I suppose I need to splint this.” 

“What do you mean you suppose?” 

“Steve!” 

“OK OK! Jeez, you sound just like Nancy.” 

He jogs off to get what you asked for, and when you have your materials you tie his arm into a makeshift splint. 

“Now, there's trauma shears in the bag. I need to cut his clothes off and treat these wounds.” 

Steve fumbles through the bag as you get more bandages and gauze ready. He passes them to you and you methodically remove the scraps of grimy torn clothes, eventually leaving him in a pair of tatty looking boxer shorts. 

“Are you gonna, erm, cut those-” 

“I think we can leave those on,” you rush it out of your mouth, a little faster and more high pitched than you meant to. 

“Now, I need warm water and a clean towel or something.” 

As you work together, Steve following your directions, you clean and bandage each wound you see as best as you can. After what seems like forever, you're finally finished, collapsing onto the floor exhausted with your back flush against the wall to keep you upright.

“He's probably gonna need some antibiotics. Those bites looked pretty gnarly. Maybe a tetanus shot. Fuck, maybe a vet.” 

You huff a laugh with zero amusement in it as Steve sinks to the floor next to you.

“That was awesome, how'd you know all that stuff?” 

“I'm studying to be a doctor, and I read every chance I get. I'm a junior nurse. You get to see some shit in the ER. Nothing like this, but apparently I must have learned something.” 

“Sure did. You wanna go and get some rest? There's a bed next door.” 

“No, I'll stay here, keep an eye on him. He's gonna need food, and water though.” 

“I got it.” 

Steve gets up and leaves, returning with a chair and a blanket. 

“Thanks Steve. Is Dustin alright?” 

“He fell asleep on the couch, when he's awake we'll tell you everything.” 

He goes then, and you hear the front door shut softly. 

********************

You ache, your back bending, contorting in a way that makes it burn. A warm blanket is covering your shoulders though, and the pillow underneath you is firm and fuzzy. There's an odd pressure on top of your head; it's slightly comforting. Risking opening one eye, yesterday's memories begin to flow into your consciousness. 

You're sitting in a chair, bent over Eddie's sick bed, and that's not a pillow. Your head is resting on a furry shoulder. Reaching a tentative hand upward you realise his huge paw of a hand is resting on your head. Fingers find coarse hair, rougher than the fuzz on his chest, and his thick fingers taper into a bone like claw, smooth and curved. 

With the patience of a bomb defusal expert, you lift his hand ever so gently and place it on his stomach. There's much less fur there, you see in the daylight, mostly skin and rippling muscle. It flexes under your gaze as his paw settles on top of it, absentmindedly scratching his skin in his sleep. 

Careful not to wake him, you sit up and stretch, hearing pops and clicks from your backbone. He looks peaceful, huge chest rising and falling gently. The hair on his head is still long, matted and dirty but soft looking. There's a fuzz on his cheeks, and that maw of his is no longer snarling in pain though his canines still jut out slightly. An ear peeks out from his curls, the flesh still soft and pinkish, but it curls into a rounded point with downy fur at the tip. 

Your eyes rake down, over his chest with the tattoo near his heart. The fur is thinner here too, and starts growing thickly in a long rope at his belly button, towards the hem of his underwear. A small gasp escapes you when you see the tent in his boxers. His member is pressing hard against the fabric, trying to break free from its cotton prison. It's thick, and clearly enormously long, your thighs clenching at the thought of touching it. 

Well that was unexpected. You tear your eyes away almost shamefully. Just look at him, he's almost monstrous. Stop thinking about his package. 

The door behind you creaks open, and Dustin is standing there. His gaze sweeps over Eddie, then sees what you just saw. Eyes widening comically, he slaps a hand over his face to block his view. 

You stand, shrugging off the blanket you had wrapped around you, and place it delicately over Eddie. Taking one last look at his peaceful features, you follow Dustin out. 

He and Nancy tell you everything. The demogorgon, the Upside Down, Will, Eleven, Vecna. It takes a couple of hours but you're patient, only asking questions to clarify some points. It's not like you don't believe him. After last night, you think you could believe anything. 

By the time he's done, Steve is back with food, dumping bags in the kitchen. 

“I took Robin home, she's in shock but she'll be alright. So how's Eddie Dog?” 

“Eddie Dog?” You question, brow furrowing. Dustin pipes up. 

“Demogorgon, Demodogs, Eddie Dog. I did think DemoEddie but Dog seems more-” 

“I get it. He seems alright, I think. I mean, he's sleeping. I'll have to check the arm, and see if he gets a fever or anything but that seems like the least of his problems.” 

Nancy speaks then, looking at you gently. 

“You're being really, calm, about all this. You OK?” 

“Oh I'm fine. I don't know why, but I'm fine. I sort of knew, deep down, what's been happening wasn't normal. Something told me I needed to be here, and I was right.” 

Steve nods, happy with your response. At least he doesn't need to worry about you freaking out right now. Nancy just purses her lips and doesn't say anything else. 

“I'm gonna have to untie him, you know. He needs to drink, and eat.” 

“I'll help.” Dustin stands up, but you wave him down. 

“No, I'll do it. He calmed down for me yesterday. I can do it.” 

You stand and walk back over to Eddie's room, pushing the door open carefully. He stirs, looking at you with one eye. 

“Eddie, how you feeling?” 

He snorts, trying to paw at the leather around his muzzle with his injured arm. 

“I'm gonna take that off and untie you. Are you… are you gonna be nice?” 

He settles in the bed, head low to his chest. You take that as the best sign you can get right now. Walking over to him slowly, he turns his head to you. His eyes are soft. 

You reach your hand out and cup his face gently, working the belt off with the other as you make shushing noises at him. You're not sure if they are for his benefit or yours. 

When it's off, Eddie stretches his mouth wide, giving you a flash of rows of sharp teeth, and a long, thick purplish tongue. He snaps it shut and licks his lips dryly. 

“You want some water?” 

He blinks slowly at you. His eyelashes are thick and long, and almost look weirdly feminine against his wolfish face. 

“Oh you remember that?”

Another slow blink. 

“Good. Let me get you some water.” 

You stand up but Steve's already at your elbow with a glass. 

“Hey Munson, still alive then?” 

Eddie stares at Steve for a second, lifts his injured arm up gradually, and unfurls his middle finger. Steve laughs loudly; relief coating it. 

“Seems like you're still you. Good, I can't handle Dustin on my own, he's exhausting.” 

A weird huffing noise comes from Eddie, almost a laugh. You hold the water up and he sits up slightly. No idea of how to get him to drink it, you tip up his chin and trickle some water gently into his open maw. He splutters slightly but manages to swallow it. 

“I'm gonna untie you now, OK?” 

He blinks slowly at you again and an unexpected warmth floods you. You begin at his feet; unbinding them, rubbing his ankles where they are red and sore, and rotating his feet around to get his circulation back. When you move to his bound arm he stares at you intensely, so much so it makes you blush. You take the same amount of time inspecting it, rubbing the redness away and circling his wrist. 

When you move your hand he grasps it awkwardly so you can't move away. An odd noise is coming out of his mouth, a drawn out rumble of sound. His eyes crease with the effort.

A word emerges. 

“...Thank.” 

It's low, animal like, almost a growl, but it's a word. 

“Eddie, you can talk?” 

Tears spring into the corners of your eyes, though you don't know why. His face scrunches again, another bubble of growling sound forcing its way out of his maw. 

“...harrrd.” 

He looks like he's about to cry. You hold his cheek, stroking at the soft fur.

“It's alright, I'm sure it'll get better. You're just not used to it. I'll talk enough for the both of us, OK?” 

He blinks deliberately at you again. A moment passes where you just stare at each other. Shaking your head as if to clear it, you cross to the other side of the bed to look at his broken arm. 

“This looks… this can't be right. Eddie, does it hurt?” 

He blinks once. 

“OK, does it hurt a lot?” 

Two slow blinks.  

Untying the bandage, it looks almost healed. You change it, and inspect his other wounds. They look like they're already scarring, a mass of dried blood sticks to each patch of matted fur and skin but you could swear the damage happened weeks ago. They're healed so much that you take the wrappings off and don't bother to recover them. 

“They've healed. I don't know how, but look.” 

Eddie looks down at the scars on his abdomen, pawing at them in disbelief, causing dried blood to crust off in crimson flakes. 

“Do you think you can stand up? We need to get you clean.” 

He nods softly and you move to hold his uninjured arm to help him up. Placing two elongated feet on the floor, he manages to bend his knees and rise from the mattress. 

He's huge. Seeing him unfurl makes you realise just how huge. He's got to be at least seven feet tall, with a broad chest and thick, powerful legs. He turns to the door and whips you inadvertently. 

“Ouch, be careful with your tail Eddie.” 

He spins, turning to look over his shoulder and stares at you with wild eyes. 

“Yes, tail. Look.” 

His paw reaches and feels it, face twisted incredulously. He shuffles forward toward the door frame with it still in his grip approaching where Steve is standing. 

“Don't play with that you'll go blind,” he jokes. Eddie pats him in the chest with what should have been a mock hit, but the force of it pushes Steve back into the wall. 

“Woah, easy there, big guy.” 

You angle Eddie toward the bathroom and he ducks low, shuffling sideways through the doorway. 

“Hmm,” you say, thinking aloud, “no way you're standing under that shower. Tell you what, if you sit in the tub I should be able to clean you.” 

He stares wide eyed, glancing down to his tattered underwear and back up to you. 

“You need help, Eddie, your arms broken and you shouldn't get it wet. Don't worry, I've seen- no wait, I've not seen anything like this before, but I'm a nurse. I can help you.” 

Eddie continues to stand there, a low growl beginning to vibrate out of his chest. You close and lock the bathroom door, then turn back to him with your arms folded. 

“Enough of that, you don't scare me. Pants off and in the tub. Now.” 

Snapping his teeth in annoyance, he hooks claws into his underwear and pulls them down. As he clambers awkwardly in you briefly see his member hanging between his legs before he cups himself and settles down, squished in the enamel bath. 

“Right, stick your bad arm out to the side, that's it, let me get the water running.” 

You unclip the tiny shower head and turn it on, directing the stream to the plug hole until it's warm enough. Then, you begin to clean him methodically, rinsing all the blood and grime away. His fur is soft, muscles flexing under each gentle touch of your fingertips. You rinse his head of hair under the shower head, massaging his scalp, and a noise bordering on a purr exudes from him. 

You're not sure if you should use shampoo over his whole body, but since all you can find to scrub him with is some drug store 3 in 1 and your bare hands, you suppose that will have to do. You begin to lather his head, rinse it off, and start working down his torso. He squirms, getting more tense the further down you go, until he starts hissing at each brush of your fingers.

“Eddie, what's wrong?” 

Voice tight and strained through his tense jaw, he manages a word. 

“Hurrrt.” 

“I'm sorry, I'm trying to be careful. Where does it hurt?” 

Throwing his head back, it smacks into the wall so hard the room shakes. 

“Eddie, I can't help if-” 

He looks at you and nods downwards towards his crotch, the one place you've avoided entirely so far. You follow his gaze and he awkwardly uncups himself. 

His cock is standing to attention, twitching and throbbing. The end is bulbous and as purple as his tongue, the shaft thick and long, snaking out from a base of matted fur. 

Your face glows with heat, blood pumping viciously to your cheeks. 

“Did- did it get, er, injured, yesterday?” 

He shakes his head, wincing with the movement.

“Do you want me to leave you for a minute?” 

It's practically a whisper. Eddie looks anywhere but your face. Moving his hand, he shows you that he can't hold around the shaft with his thick claws. 

“OK I get you,” you say, nerves shaking your voice.

You said you'd help him. You can just help him, right? 

“D-do you want me to help?” 

His eyes snap to yours, wide and wet. He doesn't move or say anything further, just stares. You reach down with your hand, checking up with his face. There's no change in his beastial features. Hesitantly, you cup the swollen head with your palm. He flinches, water cascading out of the tub, but doesn't take his eyes off you. 

Reaching down, you gather some lather from the grubby water and begin to move your hand up and down his bulky shaft. It feels hot to the touch, and solid as a rock underneath the soft feel of his delicate skin. The noise he makes is almost a sigh of relief, head leaning backward as his spine arches to your touch. 

You're struggling to get your hand around his thickness, so you extend your other arm and wrap both hands around his impressive length, stroking firmly up and down. Eddie starts whining in his throat, a desperate noise. He's thrusting into your grip, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. You start to feel throbbing between your own legs, a pulse thumping deep inside that's difficult to ignore. Focusing on your strokes, you push the feeling to the back of your mind.

You watch him instead, his chest heaving, legs beginning to shake as his dick leaks pre cum down your hands. Adding a twist to the tip of his head with each upstroke, he whimpers and whines in his throat. Impossibly, he seems to be getting even larger. You feel a bulbous growth at the base of his cock at the same time he releases, splattering cum over your fists, his chest, the water, his legs. You've never seen so much cum in all your life. He tenses all over, stifling a broken grunt from his maw. You go to move off him but he places a paw over your hand, a silent plea to keep you in place. So, you keep holding him firmly as his breath starts to regulate again. 

A few minutes later he lets you go, his cock still half hard and slightly submerged in the water. Not saying a word, you rinse him down, cleaning any remaining suds and sticky release off of him, not daring to look up at his face. Once that's done, you cough and stand up, grabbing a scratchy towel to dry him off with. As he gets out of the bath, water winding down the drain and gurgling in protest, you dry him off as best as you can, taking care to be gentle around the scabs and scars. The room smells like wet dog. Finally wrapping the towel around his waist, you step back, looking over his body to check if anything is bleeding. 

A clawed hand reaches to your face, the rough furry knuckle tucking under your chin, lifting it up. For the first time since it happened, you look back into his eyes, shame tumbling in your gut. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don't mention it.” 

He gestures widely at his torso, and you snap back to your senses. 

“Clothes! I'll- I'll find you something to wear, just- just hold on. I'll be back.” 

You stumble quickly out the bathroom, back slamming against the shut door and close your eyes. 

What in the absolute fuck was that? 

You have no answers. Surely you were just being a good friend? A really good friend. It didn't explain why you are turned on so much, your own thighs feeling wet and sticky, slick dampening your underwear. 

Nancy approaches as you snap your eyes open. 

“You OK? Can I help?” 

“Yeah, er, we need some clothes for him. Big clothes. Real big. Is there… anything?”

“Hmm,” she says, “I think I saw some of Hopper's old things in the closet. I can go out? Grab some things?” 

“That would be great, thanks.” 

She nods, flashing a tight lipped smile, and grabs her keys from the side. You search the closet and find a white t-shirt and some sweats, returning to the bathroom to help him put them on. The top is a stretch; on anyone else it'd be baggy but on him it looks like a muscle shirt. After some minor adjustments to the pants, which included cutting a hole for his tail, they fit well enough. 

“Listen, Eddie, I need to leave.” 

He snaps his head towards you, whining. 

“It's alright, I've just got a shift at the hospital. Nancy's getting some more clothes for you, and Steve's brought some food. Go. Go and eat, and I'll be back in a few hours.” 

He huffs, but moves carefully to the living room anyway. You explain what's happening to Steve, making sure to tell him to change the bedsheets, and turn to the front door. As you're about to leave, you hear a low, growling word that shakes through you and makes your eyes brim with emotion. It's your name. 

********************

You shower and change at the hospital, willing your shift to be over and done with. Managing to explain away your disappearance last night to your boss with a trite story of helping with Search and Rescue, you breathe in the relief that you won't lose your job. He even understands that you need a couple of days leave; after you hint heavily that you had lost your family in the earthquakes of course. It's a dirty lie, your family doesn't even live near here anymore, but he doesn't need to know that. 

With all the medical emergencies, you're rushed off of your feet, which at least makes the time fly by. After the shift you race back to your apartment, flinging things in a bag. Changes of clothes, a bunch of leftover food from the freezer, and a tape player with a few tapes that you hope will cheer Eddie up. You change as well, putting on a summer dress and tennis shoes, trying to convince yourself you're not doing it for him. 

It's inexplicable; you're aching to see him again. It's like a limb has been severed and the phantom pain is excruciating. Which is fucking mental to say the least. You barely know him, and he's… changed. 

Driving like a woman possessed, you reach the dirt turning in record time, slamming the breaks when you reach Steve and Nancy's cars. At least he's not alone. 

As you jog toward the cabin, you hear a roar, one so loud it dislodges birds from their nests, flapping anxiously to escape. The jog turns into a run as you fly toward the front door, unceremoniously slamming it open. 

“Thank Christ it's you! I can't. I can't deal with him. Please.” 

Steve looks drained, begging you with wide eyes. There's a fresh cut under his eye with a small bruise forming. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Nancy approaches, placing a thin hand on your forearm. 

“Eddie, he's… we can't do anything, he just keeps calling your name.” 

“Roaring it, actually,” Steve adds, looking at your hand with the bulky bag in it. “Are you staying?” 

“Yeah, well I thought, I mean- I live alone. No one's gonna miss me for a few days. The hospital knows, so yeah. I suppose I'm staying.” 

A crash next door makes you all jump. 

“Are you gonna-” 

“Yes, I'm going in there. I'll be fine.” 

As you tiptoe to the door, you hear Steve mutter, ‘she must be one of us, she goes towards the scary noises.’

“Eddie.” 

It's nearly a whisper, but he hears, whipping around to face you. Before you can do anything he's striding forward and wrapping his fierce arms around you. You tense, expecting him to break your ribs, but you relax when the hug is soft. 

Your eyes scan the carnage in the room. The chair you'd sat on whilst nursing his injuries is in splinters on the floor. A cabinet looks like a bull ran into it, and there's glass under your shoes. 

The bed seems fine at least. Coaxing him gently, you lead him to it and perch on the edge. He sits next to you, not letting you go. 

“Eddie what the hell happened?” 

Unclenching his grip, he looks at you with tear filled eyes, anguish etched into his very skin. He's trying to form words, you can see it in the way he's concentrating, but they just won't come. Face screwed up, he balls his fist and howls when a claw digs into his own flesh, which only serves to exacerbate the ball of emotion that's fighting his insides. 

“It's OK, I'm here, just breathe.” 

His maw continues to open and shut, paw gesticulating wildly. You grasp it, being careful of his sharp claws, and try something else. 

“Alright, you can't use your words. That's fine, you can just let it out. Just like, awoooo!” 

You let out your own mini howl as he stares at you in disbelief. 

“Go on, it'll feel good. See? Awwooooo!” 

He stares at you with wide eyes, an almost amused look dancing within them. 

“See? I feel better. Awwooooo!” 

Shaking his large head, he gives you a side glance and tilts his head back to the heavens. 

“AARRROOOOOOO!” 

It's long and loud, bursting in your ears as a wall of sound. 

“Eddie that was awesome,” you gush, hand reaching to wind fingers into his curls. 

“Are you OK, I heard- oh.” 

Steve bursts in and sees you smiling, Eddie staring at you like a puppy. 

“Right, now that's just- what in the- I'll just-” 

He leaves looking stunned, never finishing a sentence. A giggle bubbles out of you, a silly little thing that dances in your chest. Eddie reaches to touch your hand in his hair but the claws hit first making you flinch at the sharpness. He looks at you, pained. 

“It's alright, you didn't hurt me. At least I can do something about that. Come with me.” 

You guide him up and out the room. Steve and Nancy leap off the couch, staring bug eyed, on the cusp of running. 

“It's fine, he's just- frustrated. It's a lot to deal with. I'm sure he's very sorry for scaring you, aren't you Eddie?” 

The last words are directed at him and he looks down at his feet. 

“-Orry.” 

“See? If you calm down a little you can speak. We're gonna cut his cla- his nails.”

Steve shakes his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but Nancy? Nancy just smiles, looking between the pair of you, like she just heard a secret. 

“I think we should go Steve,” she says, holding him by the elbow to guide him towards the door. 

“But we- what if he-” 

“Steve!” 

“Alright, alright! Keep your pants on. I hope you've got food in that big bag of yours, ‘cause he ate three whole rotisserie chickens. Three! Bones and everything.” 

“We’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

Nancy drags Steve out the door as he's shouting over his shoulder. 

“We'll check on you tomorrow!”

“OK!” 

The front door shuts and it's silent in the cabin. Coughing awkwardly, you look around the room searching, speaking as you do so. 

“Right, so, let's sort out the bedroom first.” 

A broom rests against a nearby wall, so you take it and sweep up the glass shards and bits of furniture and dump them outside. It's not perfect but at least you shouldn't cut your feet. 

“OK, nail clippers are not going to work. We need something…  is there a toolbox or…” 

Mumbling away, you finally locate a dusty red snapbox by the back door and extricate a pair of tin snips and a metal file. 

“These should do. Sit down Eddie, I'll put the TV on.” 

He does as he's told, carefully tucking his tail under as he perches on the couch. It screams with the weight but holds steady. 

You get to work, sorting out the claws on his feet before moving to his bearish hands. The TV mutters indistinctly in the background as you clip and file his claws to half their size; as close to his fingers as you dared. When you look up you see Eddie's gaze is transfixed on you. Ignoring the heat of his stare, you finish up, prodding the end of each nail with a finger pad. 

“See? No more scratching. Should be able to practise using your hands more too.” 

A heat rolls across your face at your own dirty thoughts. If Eddie notices, he doesn't say anything. 

“I brought some beers, you want one?” 

He can nod and shake his head now without pain, you've seen him moving with ease, but he chooses instead to blink slowly at you. Gasping a little, you get up and fetch the beers from the fridge and hand one over. It's tricky, but he manages to hold it, looking at you for validation. 

“See? That's great! You just need practice.” 

“Prrractice.” 

“Yes! That's really good, Eddie.” 

You beam a sunny smile at him but he looks down and away from you. 

“What is it?” 

Turning back with glassy eyes, he waves a hand at his new form. 

“-rreak.”

“Sorry, what?” 

“F-rreak.” 

“No! No, Eddie, stop,” you respond, holding one huge hand in both of yours, “you're not a freak. You're scared and, and different, and God knows this is a strange situation, but you're not a freak. You were never a freak.”

He brings one burly arm around your shoulders and hugs you tight to his chest. You can feel the pads of his fingers now, stroking at your arm. For some reason, that's what makes you cry. Tears fall unbidden, streaking down your face alarmingly fast. Eddie pulls away to look at you, eyes brimming with concern. 

“I'm fine, it's fine. Really. I just- I can feel your fingertips now.”

Eddie flashes the closest thing to a smile his new face can allow and laces his tough, furry fingers with yours. You sit like that for a while, drinking your beers and staring mindlessly at the TV. Eyes beginning to close of their own accord, you realise you need to go to sleep before you pass out. 

“I need to sleep Eddie. Hang on, I'm gonna go change.” 

You stand up, fishing a tank top and sleep shorts from your bag as well as a toothbrush, and go about getting ready for bed. 

When you return, the TV is off, and Eddie's sitting in a pair of plain black boxer shorts that Nancy must have bought him. 

“Eddie, do you think you can brush your teeth or do you need a hand?” 

He gets up determined and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Trusting he knows what he's doing, you make your way to the spare room. The bed is tiny and there's no duvet or pillow, just a ratty blanket. 

Eddie appears in the doorway. 

“No.” 

“Huh?” 

You turn and he waves a hand at the bed almost in disgust. Taking you by the arm, he leads you to the main bedroom. 

“You, herrre.” 

He turns and the word is out of your mouth before your brain has a chance to wake up. 

“Wait!” 

As he looks at you expectantly, you blush and stammer over your sentence. 

“I mean, that other bed- it's too small for you Eddie, and theres- there's no pillows and-” 

Reaching out with a paw-like hand, he settles it on your forearm gently. 

“Herrre?” 

“Yeah? If you don't mind, of course.” 

Without a further word he climbs onto the bed, covering himself with the duvet you'd found in the closet. You shut the light off and get in too, laying at the very edge of the bed, knees dangling over thin air. 

Eddie's not having that though. His arm swipes over and pulls you close so fast air leaves your lungs in a gasp. You settle into him, hand laying on his chest, a furry leg underneath your knee. 

“Goodnight Eddie.”

“-Night.” 

********************

When morning rolls around you find yourself alone in the bed, a cold dip in the mattress next to you. There's noise coming from the kitchen area but it sounds contained; nothing like the sounds you heard when you arrived yesterday. 

The bandage and sticks you hastily splinted his arm with are discarded in a pile on the floor. The material looks like it had been ripped apart by sharp teeth. 

Padding out of the room on bare feet you see Eddie's back. The fur along his spine is longer and thicker than the rest, and his tail is swishing. It's sticking out of the hole you made in a pair of sweatpants as he wiggles a frying pan. 

“Morning Eddie. Your arm healed already?” 

He flicks a glance over his shoulder and flashes his canine teeth, waving the arm around to show you. 

“-orrning. Bet-terr.” 

“Are you making breakfast?” 

He points to a plate next to him where a haphazard tower of pancakes sit. 

“Prractice.” 

You walk over, shivering a little. Someone's going to have to do something about the holes in the ceiling here. Making a mental note to speak with Steve, you cross the room and stand next to Eddie. 

“You need any help?” 

He shakes his head and gestures to the table. 

“Sit. Eat.” 

You pick a couple of pancakes up and put them on a small plate and unearth an ancient bottle of maple syrup from a cupboard. The pancakes are surprisingly good; you find a hair in one but don't mention it. 

“Eddie, these are delicious! Thank you.” 

“You'rre -elcome.” 

“And you're speaking so well!” 

“Prrractice.” 

He sits opposite you with an enormous plate stacked high with pancakes, offering another to you. Taking one more, you place it neatly on your plate. 

“Thanks but that's it. I know you need practice but we don't need so many-”

He picks up two and puts them in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing and picking up three more. 

“-Oh. We're gonna need more food.”

Eddie nods, finishing the stack of pancakes in less than a minute. When he's done, his thick tongue lulls out to lick his fingers. It's so long, practically wrapping around each individual digit. 

Mouth hanging open, you snap it shut and close your eyes for a moment trying to will the hedonistic thoughts you're having to stop swirling around your brain. 

When you open them again he's staring at you intensely, a hint of amusement in those soulful eyes. 

Looking down to avoid that stare, you ask something that you've been dying to find out. 

“Eddie, can I ask- are you still, you, in there? Like completely? Or is it, different?” 

He looks away, seemingly thinking. It's a while before he turns back, face contorting with the effort of words. 

“Still -e, I think. Head… fog-gy. Hurrts. Prrractice.” 

You nod and reach for his hand, proud of him for his longest sentence yet. He holds yours gently; the thumb rubbing back and forth over your knuckles showing much better dexterity than yesterday.

A loud knock at the door startles you both, until you hear Steve's voice ring out.

“It's me, it's Steve! You alive?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes and you stifle a giggle. 

“No Steve, I died! I was maimed! Blood and guts everywhere!” 

You smile as you say it, winking at Eddie. Steve barges in, shaking his head. 

“Ha ha, very funny. Excuse me for caring,” he turns to Eddie, voice softer than before, “how you feeling, buddy?” 

Eddie flashes his teeth. 

“Bet-terr.” 

“Good, awesome. Hey, did I miss breakfast?” 

“Sure did. Eddie made it.” 

“Really?” 

Steve looks stunned, glancing back and forth between the two of you. 

“Yup, he did. All on his own. Actually, while you're here, we need to fix those holes in the roof. At least board them up or something.” 

“Yeah sure, I can do that, but I'll need a hand.” 

“I… can hel-p.” 

The boys get to work and you leave them to it. You busy yourself too; dusting and cleaning the cabin, hanging a sheet up in the bedroom as a makeshift curtain, and making a list of everything you need from the store foodwise. Then, you add even more to it, including four rotisserie chickens. 

Whilst food is on your mind, you make a huge pile of sandwiches and call them both in for lunch. Steve looks shocked at the amount of food.

“Woah, don't think we need all-” 

Eddie shakes his head and grabs two sandwiches, putting them both in his mouth at once. 

“Ah. Right.” 

“I think he needs a lot of food because of the injuries. He healed so quickly, I mean, he's got to get the energy from somewhere, right?” 

Steve slowly nods, looking at Eddie as he stuffs another sandwich in his mouth. 

“Yeah, I guess. Plus, look at the size of him.” 

Eddie swallows thickly and stares at the pair of you. 

“Can… hearrr you. Rrrude.” 

“Sorry, you're right, that was rude of us Eddie.” 

You reach a hand out and stroke his arm; his gaze immediately softens. 

“Wow, you're like, the Eddie whisperer or some shit.” 

Eddie growls in his throat. 

“Hey, that wasn't about you it was about her!” 

After lunch, they get back to work, completing the patch job on the roof in a few hours. By the time they're done, the sun is starting to set. Steve leaves the pair of you, taking the shopping list and promising he and Nancy will be back tomorrow with fresh supplies. You offer him some money which he swears blind he doesn't need, but you give it to him anyway. 

Once dinner is demolished, you and Eddie sit on the couch, watching some made for TV movie. Well, he seems to be watching it. You're uncomfortable, thighs clenching in an effort to put out the raging fire between them. Hyper aware of his arm over your shoulders, you try to block all the horny signals to your brain but it's not working. Huffing loudly, you bite your lip, shuddering at each touch of his gnarled finger pads on the smooth skin of your arm. 

“You good?” 

You glance up and see Eddie's eyes boring into you. 

“Yeah, of course, I'm great.” 

“Liarrr.” 

Flashing his teeth, he lets out a rough chuckling sound. You press your lips together firmly, refusing to respond. 

“You want me. You… want… this.” 

He points to his mouth, tongue dipping out past his sharp teeth, far longer than a tongue had any right to be. He twirls it in a little circle and puts the purplish muscle back in his mouth. 

“Oh really?” You reply hotly, “and what makes you think that, huh?” 

“Can scent.” 

“What?” 

Wordlessly, he points between your legs. Clenching your thighs harder, you glow scarlet, face igniting with such heat that it almost hurts. 

“Eddie, you can't just say that's it- it's impolite!!” 

Letting out a little howl of amusement, he strokes up and down your back with his large hand sending shivers through your spine. 

He's not wrong. Your panties are clinging to your wet heat uncomfortably, thighs sodden with false anticipation. Your blood is on fire, pumping fast and hard to your aching clit. It's bewildering; you've never felt so needy in all your life. He must be letting out some pheromones or something, brain grasping wildly at straws for an explanation. 

“-Orry. Just… you help-ed mme. I can… help you.” 

“I don't think- I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean, your heads all foggy, you said, and, and-” 

“Want to.” 

He looks entirely serious, meeting your gaze with hardly a blink. 

Are you really gonna do this? 

Your body is protesting the lack of a decision, pulse thumping hard in your cunt as if to remind you of your predicament. It takes over, urging your hands under your dress to peel off your sticky underwear and put them to one side. Eddie doesn't move, waiting for you to speak, but you can see his pupils are blown, eyes nearly fully black. His snout is snuffling the air, tasting you through his nose. 

“Could you… please?” 

Tears are stinging your eyes at the discomfort. Eddie blinks once slowly at you, and immediately crouches to his hands and knees on the floor. As he crawls between your thighs, it strikes you that the movement seems more natural than him standing like a person. Gently, he slides your dress up your legs and pushes your legs apart with his giant hands. 

You're waiting for the first touch of his tongue, but it doesn't come. First, he smells you, inhaling your cunt so deeply that embarrassment blooms in your chest. The growling, humming noise that emanates from him vibrates into your very bones; it's laced with such desire that your thighs begin to quiver. 

Then, he tastes you; tongue lapping at your sex suddenly. You were expecting it, but you weren't expecting the sheer relief that flooded your senses at the first touch of his dripping maw. He slathers it all over you, cleaning your slick from the tops of your thighs, tongue slithering through your folds, around your clit, right down to your ass, as if he can't get enough of the taste of you. 

Whining and bucking your hips up already, he growls, holding you open with one brutish hand as the other pushes into the softness of your belly pinning you in place. You can see where his thick blunted claws push at your flesh, leaving dimples on your stomach. 

Then his tongue is writhing inside of you, twirling and dancing, hitting spots no other tongue could ever reach. Moans are ripped from your chest, the kind of sounds you would never dare to make before. Pathetic whines, hoarse shouts, screeching cries of pure pleasure. His snout is pressed firmly up against your clit; it's scrunched with the pressure, and each flick of his head makes him nussle it over and over. 

Despite Eddie's firm hand holding you down, you still manage to thrash about, legs twitching and back bucking uncontrollably. Your walls are convulsing around his muscle, fluttering with each pulse. He tongue fucks you in earnest then, knowing you're reaching that crescendo as your noises get even louder. 

You're beyond words. You couldn't tell him you were about to come if your life depended on it. The only word you can manage is a high pitched squeal of his name as your release floods out of you, slick gushing over his face. 

He laps it up, tongue washing over you as you collapse back into the sofa cushions, throat hoarse from yelling. There's an odd, murmuring grunt sound coming from him, the same sound over and over. As your ears finally stop ringing you release he's mumbling a word into you, almost incomprehensible in between licks. 

“Mine. Mine, mine… mmmmine.” 

Over and over he says it; like a mantra, a prayer to your cunt. Eventually you have to tug him away by his hair to stop him compulsively lapping at you. 

He looks up, dazed eyes starting to refocus as he pants like a dog. You pat the fur on his neck over and over, rubbing your fingers through it, your stare desperately trying to tell him what a good job he did. 

As he sinks down and sits on the floor, you join him, sliding off the couch and crawling into his lap. He holds you close, nose nuzzling your neck. 

“Wan’ kiss you.” 

You know what he means. He wants to kiss you properly, like a man and a woman kiss. Not like a beast. 

You cradle his head, making your hands appear tiny in comparison, and twist your fingers gently in his fur. Pulling his closed maw toward you, you press your lips against it softly, nudging his nose with yours like he did with your neck. It seems to placate his needs. He keeps his arms in a tight embrace around you as you move your heads as one, nudging your faces together, letting actions speak instead of words. 

For the second time in as many days, you wonder what the hell you're getting yourself into. 

********************

“Eddie, come try this!” 

Calling from the kitchen, you mix batter in a huge bowl, trying to work out if you've used enough sugar. Technically speaking, you're not a chef. Far from it. The last cake you made sank in the middle so much it resembled a sad bundt cake. 

“Eddie?” 

All you hear is muffled music playing from the bedroom. You go and investigate, spatula in hand, and gently swing the door open. 

Eddie's shirtless, his sweats hanging low on his hips, with his guitar slung around his neck. His muscles flex with every strum of his fingers, face screwed in concentration as he attempts to follow along with the tape.

“Eddie?” 

Finally he glances up, eyebrows unknitting as he looks at you. 

“Wherre you find… the aprrron?” 

You'd forgotten about the apron. Glancing down, you see flour dusting it. You brush it off absentmindedly and look back at him. 

“Oh, it was in a drawer.” 

“Hot.” 

You giggle, cheeks flushing. 

“What you doing Eddie? Practising?” 

He huffs, taking his guitar and laying it gently against the bed. 

“Trrrying. Not good enough.” 

“Yet.” 

Exposing his teeth in a bestial smile, he walks over to you. 

“Yet. What you calling forrr?” 

He tilts his head, exposing the fuzzy tip of his ear through his hair, rough hand rubbing up your arm.

“Oh, I see. You could hear me, hmm?” You place your hand on your hip dramatically. He nods, crowding over you, making your breath hitch in your throat, as thick furry fingers stroke at your skin. 

“Well, I was asking you to try this.” 

You tap his nose with the end of the spatula, leaving behind a splat of uncooked cake batter. His maw opens in shock as you laugh. 

“Don't… do…” 

“What, don't do this?” 

You get him again, this time on his cheek, smudging the mixture in the soft fur. He raises an eyebrow at you, face stoic as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. He'd look intimidating, if it wasn't for the batter dripping off his snout. 

“What you gonna do about it, huh?” 

He takes a step backward, unfolding his arms, and cracks his neck from side to side. His knuckles are next, popping with the stretch. Then, he starts growling out a low countdown. 

“One… two… thrrree…” 

“Oh, it's like that is it?” 

“...fourrr… five…” 

You run out of the room, flinging the spatula onto the kitchen side, and look for somewhere to go, but there isn't anywhere. This place is tiny. Jogging around the couch, you hear Eddie roar like a lion and your pulse quickens. He shoulders nonchalantly out the bedroom, crouching low. Adrenaline hits you as you try to work out how to get past. 

Attempting to fake him out, you run one way, then immediately double back, dashing around the back of the couch. Eddie's moves are a blur, husky arm scooping you up by the waist and dragging you over his shoulder in an instant. Kicking and giggling, you bash at his back trying to get him to let go, but you may as well pound on a concrete wall. 

There's a sudden rush of air and your back meets the wooden floor, landing with a soft ‘ooft’ noise. He pins you down, powerful legs straddling you, holding both your arms over your head with one brutish hand almost lazily. It easily circles both of your wrists. 

Taking his free hand, he scoops the mixture off of his nose and licks it with his tongue, twirling it around until every last bit is gone. You're breathing heavily. That display, teamed with him wrestling you to the ground so easily, has your heart thumping a tattoo inside your chest. 

He makes a face, scrunching his snout. 

“That bad?” 

“I know… what rrrather eat.” 

Flashing his pointed teeth, he runs his tongue over them, looking at you like you're his favourite meal. He leans in close, hot breath fanning your face. 

“You like this.” 

“No.” You say, even though you're trembling and hot all over. 

“Liarrr.” He says it whilst tapping his nose. 

He pushes his body against yours so you can feel his solid bulge pressing up against your core. Nothing can stop the whimper that gurgles out your throat, no matter how much you bite your lip. 

A warm hand paws at your breast over the apron as his tongue dances across the shell of your ear. Pushing upward with your hips, you make a futile attempt at escaping. Not that you want to, but the game is just getting good. He growls in your ear and the sound shoots straight to your cunt…

Then the front door flies open. 

“So we got- Jesus Eddie, no! Get the hell off her!” 

Steve drops paper bags on the floor as you both turn your heads to face him. Nancy's running in beside him trying to drag him backwards by the elbow. 

“Steve, I don't think-” 

“It's not what it looks like!” You stammer it out as Steve gawps. 

“What- what's going on!” 

Nancy turns him so he has to look at her, talking to him like a child. 

“Steve, when a man and a woman like each other very much-” 

His face immediately starts glowing scarlet. Eddie clambers off you and holds one hand out to lift you off the floor, hunching awkwardly to try and hide his erection as he takes refuge behind the couch. 

“Seriously? Him? He's- he's-” 

He gestures widely at Eddie. You hear a snarling coming from behind you so you hold a hand out to calm him, fingers meeting soft fur. Your eyes harden as you stare sternly at Steve.

“He's Eddie. He's just Eddie. He might look different but he's still here, and you're being… rude.” 

“You're right, I'm sorry,” he looks over to Eddie sheepishly, “sorry Munson, I didn't mean-” 

“Don't worrry, I… underrrstan’. Harrrd to rremem-berrr… even forrr mme.”

Steve looks surprised at how much his speech has come on, but he doesn't mention it. Instead, he holds out a hand, taking Eddie's giant one in his own and shaking it. 

“Listen, I got what you asked for, it should be all here. If you're both alright, we'll get out of your fur- shit- hair! Out of your hair!” 

Eddie snickers low in his throat as Steve tries to hide his face from his own faux pas. 

After packing the food away, and a couple of hugs and goodbyes, they leave you it. Nancy promises they'll be back in a couple of days to check in, and that they'll knock first. 

Once you're both alone you breathe a sigh of relief, turning to Eddie. 

“I'm sorry about him.” 

Eddie looks down, clutching the back of the couch. 

“I'm s-orry. Should have… ask-ed you out beforrre… this.” 

You round the couch and grasp his bicep in your hands, staring at his side profile. 

“Hey, hey, you didn't know this was gonna happen. How could you ask me out? It's not like you even noticed me really before, right?” 

Eddie refuses to meet your gaze. His eyelashes are dipping down, nearly kissing his cheeks. 

“Eddie?” 

He rumbles a sound out, shaking his head, making his hair ripple about his shoulders. 

“I… lik-ed you. Wan-ted you. Was… scarrred. You werrre.. arrre… too good forrr mme.” 

An ache settles in your chest at his words, face creasing with anguish.

“Oh... Oh, Eddie, don't do that. I'm here now. And I'm not too good, that's just not true.” 

Your fingers wind into his fur, trying to tug him around but it's no use. You can see the tension in his arm underneath. 

So, if that isn't working, you'll try something else. 

“Seems I won.” 

His head turns quickly then, staring at you, muzzle wrinkled in confusion. 

“Our little chase?”

You wipe the remnants of cake batter off of his cheek with two fingers. He watches you intently as you bring them to your mouth, pushing them deep inside and hollowing your cheeks. Eddie grunts, maw extending open slightly as he swallows thickly in his throat. You suck hard, and pull your fingers out, running the flat of your tongue up and around them, leaving a string of spit behind. 

“I think you're right, that doesn't taste good.” 

Eddie's staring at you, eyes nearly black as his tongue lulls from his mouth, panting. 

“So, I won. I got free, didn't I?” 

Eddie's ribs are rising and falling distinctly. He steps toward you, the back of his hand dragging its coarse knuckles over your cheek. 

“Don't count… Caught you.” 

“Yeah? And I got free! So I win, right? Unless you don't think that's fair?” 

Snout nuzzling at your hairline, he breathes in your scent deeply and cups your face, pulling it towards his. You kiss his mouth gently, crushing soft lips against his hard jaw. He pushes his maw against you, opening his mouth and snaking his tongue between your lips. 

It's messy, tongues licking each other as spit pools and drips down your chin. His burly hand rests on the back of your head, covering it completely, forcing you to stay in place, while the other reaches down to grasp at the flesh of your ass. 

When you break away, you're both panting, breathing laboured and ragged. 

“Woah. Fuck,” you huff out between hard exhales, “you can kiss.” 

“Interrrrup-ted.”

“Huh?” 

You're dizzy from the kiss, lips red and swollen, still slightly parted as his fingers trace down your back. 

“We werre… interrrup-ted. Don't count.” 

“Ah, I see. So what do you-” 

“One. Two… thrrree…” 

This time you fly from his grip and race out the room, considering the bathroom for a second before you dive wildly into the main bedroom. Eyes scanning as quickly as you can, you see a trap door at the foot of the bed. 

It swings open when you pull the rusted metal ring and you stick your head inside. It's little more than a crawl space, full of cobwebs and mouldy boxes. You scrabble inside and snap the trap door shut just as you hear a bellowing roar from the other room. 

He won't actually be expecting you to hide, and you're rather pleased with yourself at the spot you'd managed to find, laying on your back wedged in the stuffy space. 

The door swings open and you will your heart to slow down. Surely he can hear it hammering from here? It's thumping loudly in your own ears, blood whooshing through your head. 

The floorboards creak with each step he takes. When he falls to the ground suddenly, crawling on all fours, your thighs clench. 

“Sweet-hearrrt…I know you’rrre herrre… can smell you…” 

His sing-song tone, along with the growling purr of his voice had you biting your lip so hard you could taste tin.

You follow the shadow of his form through the slats, not daring to move, not daring to breathe. Suddenly his massive furred arm swipes under the bed, catching nothing but air. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle. 

He goes entirely still, pressing his snout to the floor, and sniffs between the floorboards. You can see his nose twitching just above your head.

“Arrre you… in the crrrawlspace?” 

He sounds impressed, finding the trap door only a second later. Light floods your hiding place as you try to wriggle your body away from him, but there's no room. In an instant he's got your ankles in his clutches as you shriek in protest, pulling you from the gap below. 

In seconds he scoops you up and hurls you on the bed as if you weigh nothing at all, then jumps on top of you, pinning you down as the bed springs squeak dramatically. 

“Cleverrr… but can't hide from mme…�� He purrs, and leans closer to your ear, voice a deeper, threatening growl. 

“I can smell yourrr cunt.” 

You take a sharp inhale at his words. As if your pussy could understand him, you feel squelching wetness seep out, aching to be touched.

Eddie sits up, straddling you, and rips your apron and top in half as easily as tissue paper, exposing bare flesh. Greedily, he lathes his tongue from the nape of your neck down to your breasts, swirling it around each nipple leaving a trail of spit in its wake.

Your skin itches, flashing red hot, the throbbing between your legs becoming unbearable. You're whimpering, close to tears with the sheer need for him.  

“Eddie, Eddie please.” 

Wasting no time he climbs off the bed and yanks your jeans off in one go, not bothering to even unzip them, and does the same with his sweats. Standing fully to attention, his monstrous length looks painfully hard, throbbing purple. 

You hook fingers into the waistband of your panties to take them off, but Eddie slaps your hand away, and leans down, hot breath dancing over the skin of your thighs. Sharp teeth graze your abdomen, not enough to cut your skin but enough to leave angry red marks in a pathway to your sex. 

Then he's gripping your underwear in his teeth and ripping the flimsy lace off, leaving it in shreds. The feral gesture has you groaning out loud, thighs immediately opening to him. A thick tongue slivers through your folds, tasting you, until he presses a clawed finger to your opening, thrusting it inside with no warning. 

“Fuck, that- that feels so good!” 

Just like when he went down on you, that familiar rush of relief at his ministrations pours over you, nearly bringing you to tears. He moves up the bed, other arm holding him steady above your head so he can crowd your senses, intently watching your face as he fucks you with his finger. 

He forces another finger in making you cry out, small hand gripping at his forearm to try and slow him down, but his movements are unrelenting. 

“Eddie, too much, please-” 

He growls, the sound making you clench even more around him as he curls his fingers, keeping them painfully deep inside. 

“Have to. You need… to take me… prrrincess.” 

You nod your understanding as you wince at the stretch, but the discomfort melts away as your release slinks up your spine, heat pooling in your belly making you moan and push back into his grip. His rough palm presses harshly into your clit, thick skin slipping against the silken nub.

“See… goood girrrrl.” 

You clutch at his fur as your orgasm expels from your body, throwing your head back into the mattress as your cunt gushes around his grip violently. He purrs his satisfaction in your ear and pulls his fingers from you. Rubbing them over his pulsating shaft, he spreads your slick and holds his girth by the base. 

“Eddie, I-I'm ready, I need you.” 

Grunting at your words, he forces the swollen head into your soaked folds. Your eyes snap tightly shut as you cling desperately to muscle and fur. Seemingly unable to control himself, he thrusts his whole length straight into you, tilting his head back and roaring so loud that dust falls from the ceiling. 

You're expecting blinding pain at the enormity of his length but it doesn't come. Instead, that first thrust pulls a second orgasm from you, one so profound that it fizzes through your every nerve and leaves spots in your vision. The blazing heat of your skin subsides as you throb around him, your prior discomfort melting away entirely. The same sureness that settled in your gut when you arrived is back. This is where you're supposed to be. 

No words come from Eddie, just forceful thrusts and throaty noises as he fucks into you like an animal. He's on his hands and knees, one arm dipping into the small of your back, holding you firmly against him as he forcefully humps into you, using you. The slick sounds of your conjuncture echo through the cabin; all wet sucking noises, gravelly growls and high pitched moans. 

Suddenly he snarls, teeth exposed, and grabs you by the hips, flinging you to the floor on your front. Your breath leaves you in shock, wooden boards rough against your naked skin. Yanking your ass in the air by the flesh of your hips he forces his throbbing member back inside, fucking into you so harshly that it's hard to stay upright. You're slipping forward with each piston of his hips, arms trembling with effort. 

Eddie's panting, pools of drool gathering at the base of your neck, mixing and mingling with your sweat. A sharp pain cuts through all the pleasure, ripping into the meat of your shoulder, causing you to scream and tense up, pussy fluttering pathetically around him. It pushes you over that precipice once again, the hurt and the bliss intertwining into a mass of feeling, tangled and twisted, unable to exist without the other. 

His member swells, growing impossibly, and a bulbous growth locks in you as he releases with a desperate broken howl. You feel the pumping of his cum deep inside, coating your trembling walls, claiming you.

A minute or so later he's collapsing to the side, pulling you close with his bearish arm, still firmly buried inside your cunt. Time seems to stop as you both pant, gasping for air, tangled in his furry embrace. As his breathing finally slows, he manages to purr one word in your ear. 

“Mine.”

Part 2

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