#eddie learns the ocean

[eddieintheocean]

Do you love the colour of the sea

[petulant-poet]

Rip Eddie Munson you would’ve loved the Owl House

[rainylana]

“Ride me, baby.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you have sex with eddie by the pond.

warnings: outdoor sex, language, short but sweet and smutty:)

There was something about it being risky that made you both horny motherfuckers. The thrill and excitement of it all that brought so much more pleasurable for the both of you. Eddie peaked his head out the trailer door, scanning the trailer park lot for any by-passers, with you giggling behind him like a little kid. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Eddie grabbed your hand and led you outside, closing the door quietly to not wake his uncle on the couch. “You’re gonna wake everybody!” His curls bounced as he trotted down the steps of his home.

You both giggled as you ran around his trailer, trying to contain your contagious laughter, your bare feet getting slightly damp from the night dew that had frosted. “It’s cold!” You whined. “Are you sure you want to do this!”

“It was your idea!” Eddie exclaimed, leading you through the woods. “And you, should have worn shoes.”

You laughed like a madman, grabbing his arm with broth hands to keep up with him. You winced when you stepped on a sharp twig. “How much further?” You asked.

He pushed a branch out of his way and stepped to the side so he could pull you forward. “We’re here. Not too far when you take the shortcut.”

You sighed happily, stomping your feet on the soft grass rather than the mess of the forest floor. “It’s cute!” You beamed at the small pond, a children’s play set over to your left. “Wayne come fishin’ here?”

“Yeah, him and Hopper.” He brought you to the edge, your reflections glimmering in the water. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Peaceful.”

You hummed, bending down to run your hand in the cold water. “Is there big fishies in there?”

He smirked at your term and shrugged. “I don’t know, baby, I’d assume so. Wayne’s not that good at it, if you ask me.”

“I wanna learn.” You out your foot in the water, gritting your teeth at the coldness.

“I’m sure he’d be happy to teach you.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Come er’.” He pulled you into his arms, cupping your cheek to give you a full, deep kiss that made your tummy flutter.

You moaned into him, pushing off his jacket as it fell to grassy floor of the Earth. “You gonna fuck me out here?” You pushed your body against him.

He reached around to grope your ass, grinding his body against yours. He put his arms around you and lowered you gently to the ground, towering over you. “Fuck, I love that sweet little dress.”

You wore a yellow sundress, too short for the imagination was what Eddie liked to say about it, but he had no problem with you wearing it for him and only him. “Ride me, baby.” He husked, flipping onto his back to lay against the ground, unbuckling his belt.

You pulled down your panties and threw them half hazardously to the side, pushing his hands away so you could free his hardening cock. “Someones happy to see me.” You grinned ear to ear, bending down to take him in your mouth.

“Ah,” He gasped, looking down to watch you swallow his cock. “F-fuck,”

“Not yet, baby,” You let him go, lifting your hits. “I’ve gotta get me some too, now.” You smiled as your pussy stretched around his cock, your hands lifting your dress to get it out of the way.

“Jesus,” He looked up at the stars as you placed your hands on his chest, moving your hips slowly back and forth.

You moaned happily, the cool air drifting in your hair and soft against your skin. The grass under your knees, the sounds of crickets and night owls, the water behind you. It all seamed out of a movie.

You rode him quicker, your hands holding you steady and in place. You bit your lip hard, seductively, letting out little whimpers that made him twitch inside of you. “Such a dirty girl,” He trembled, becoming undone for you. “Riding me out here where anyone could see.”

You leaned down to kiss him firmly, shutting him up as you moved your hips back and forth like ocean currents. Your tongues tangled together, swiping over teeth and gums as you bounced on him. You moaned into each other’s mouth like animals.

You squealed when he tossed you around and put you on your back, throwing your legs over his hips as he thrusted into you hard. You cried out from the sharpness of his cock pushing inside of you, making you clamp your mouth shut. He grabbed your hands and placed them above your head. “Uh, uh, I wanna hear those sweet sweet noises, baby girl.”

He thrusted into you animalisticly, making your eyes blur with tears as you looked up to the stars. “Shit,” Your voice was full and shaky, your tits practically spilling from your chest as they bounced up and down.

His pelvis rubbed against your clit and sent you over the edge, biting his shoulder as you cried out. You felt him shoot his load inside of you, the tremble of his legs making him collapse atop of you. You both panted, your breath coming out in puffs of clouds.

“Shit,” He gasped into your neck, trying to hold himself. “Sorry babe- did you cum? I couldn’t last,”

You giggled, slapping his shoulder. “I always cum, Eddie. Now, get the fuck off me.”

[trippedandfell]

stop the world just to stop the feeling

The night before Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck and Eddie talk on a balcony. | 1.5k | buddie | ao3

Eddie’s just uncapped his second beer when he hears footsteps behind him, so familiar he recognizes who it is by sound alone.

“Hey,” he says, as Buck sidles into view, arms coming to rest on the balcony railing beside him. He’s got a drink in his hand, too - one of those fruity vodka seltzers that Eddie’s reluctantly started stocking in the bottom drawer of his fridge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Buck fiddles with the tab on his can, the silver of it reflecting in the moonlight. “Something like that.”

His shirt is slightly too big, slipping down just enough to expose the sharp jut of his collarbone, the dark bruise forming on the edge of it. Eddie’s eyes fly to it without permission, and Buck flushes red. 

“It’ll be covered by the suit tomorrow, promise.”

“Mm.” Eddie takes another sip of his beer, ignoring the sour way it curdles in his stomach. “Good. Think Chim’s one incident away from going full groomzilla.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Not at all,” Eddie admits, and Buck huffs a laugh. “You should have been me the night before Shannon and I got married. I was a wreck.”

He’d been alone, in the shitty little apartment they’d rented once they learned about Christopher, Shannon spending the night at her mom’s across town to help them cling to some ragged sense of propriety that neither of them truly believed in. It had been one of the most awful, stomachache-inducing nights he’d ever had up to that point in his life, and it wasn’t until he saw Shannon in the church the next day, glowing in a way that had nothing to do with the bump hidden under the folds of her white dress, that everything had finally clicked into place.

“Hi,” she had said, reaching out to squeeze his hand, and Eddie had let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Buck’s staring at him now, as if he can sense the myriad emotions playing out in Eddie’s head. “It’s so weird,” he says. “Maddie and Chimney have basically been married for a while now. But all of this just makes it feel so real.” He gestures a hand at the expansive hotel grounds, the ocean beyond. “I mean, my parents are here.”

Eddie knows. Eddie had done an exceptional job at ignoring them at the rehearsal dinner that night, tucked in the corner by himself, Marisol having gone to their room earlier with a headache.

He feels a brief, guilty flash about leaving her alone now, although she’d been snoring when he’d crept past Chris on the sofa bed and out into the light of the hallway. He wonders, idly, if he should have left a note.

“They seem to be behaving,” he offers, which is about all of the goodwill he’s able to give the Buckley parents at any given time. Buck makes a face at him, and he adds, half-teasing, “for now.”

As far as he knows, they haven’t said a word so far to Buck about Tommy. He should probably ask, but somehow he can’t make his mouth form the words.

Buck drums his fingers against the balcony, quiet. “Do you ever think about it?”

What, fighting your parents? Eddie almost jokes, but he knows that’s not what Buck’s asking. “About getting married again?”

“Or getting married at all,” Buck says, and there’s something in his face, something suspiciously like longing, that has Eddie taking another gulp of his beer. “Like, big reception, flowers. The whole nine yards.”

“I wouldn’t do a big reception,” Eddie says, shuddering. “Just in the backyard, or something.”

Buck cracks a smile. “You do have a nice backyard.”

“You’re just saying that because you did all the landscaping,” Eddie says, bumping their shoulders together. “I had to weed it the other day though, so I should at least get partial credit.”

Buck looks sheepish at that, which wasn’t what Eddie was going for, but also wasn’t not what he wanted to happen. “I meant to come do it this week, I’ve just been -”

“Busy,” Eddie finishes for him, which isn’t fair, not really. Not when Buck is still over at his house most days, not when he hasn’t missed a single one of his afternoons out with Christopher. It’s just that there’s now a new purple marker in his kitchen, carefully outlining Buck’s availability on the calendar.

Eddie’s never had to schedule Buck in before. Not with Taylor, or Natalia, or even Ali, way back when. 

Combine that with the fact that Buck’s now asking about marriage…

Eddie drains the last of his beer. “You should get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, but stays where he is, shoulder still pressed against Eddie’s. “Hey - uh. We’re good, right?”

“Buck, you’ve already apologized.” And grovelled, and apologized again, until Eddie was back from medical leave and working with the 118 again.

“Not about that.” Buck shakes his head, the movement bringing him closer to Eddie still, their forearms nearly overlapping on the railing. “I mean - about me. And Tommy, I guess.”

And Eddie - Eddie will be the first to admit it took him a second to come to terms with it, to fully wrap his head around the idea of Buck with a man and, more specifically, Buck with Tommy. But he’d hugged Buck, and stumbled his way through some approximation of support, and then gone home and researched until his eyes were burning and he’d bookmarked every tab he could find about bisexuality and being a good ally - so. He thinks he’s been doing okay, overall. Certainly not poorly enough to make Buck question if he’s been harbouring secret homophobic tendencies all this time.

“You know I’m good with that,” he says, and means it. “And you and Tommy seem - really good. So if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Buck’s eyebrows crinkle together, and Eddie has to resist the fanatical urge to reach over and smooth them out. “I know. I know you are. But something else just seems - wrong.”

“With me?”

“With us,” Buck says, voice veering toward frustration. “Come on, Eddie. You know you feel it too.”

Something thumps in Eddie’s chest, like his heart is suddenly trying to beat out of his chest. “Buck, I promise nothing’s changed-”

“But something has,” Buck says. “And I don’t know what, and it’s driving me insane, and every time I’m at work or at the gym or even with Tommy-” Wait, what? Eddie thinks, panicked -  “I’m lost in my own head, wondering how the fuck I managed to mess up the most important relationship in my life.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Eddie says, honest. “No one did. It’s just - growing pains. You’re in a relationship, I’m in a relationship - it’s natural that we maybe don’t come first for each other anymore.”

Buck stares at him, the corner of his eyes suspiciously red. “We both know you don’t actually believe that.”

He doesn’t, but they’re veering into dangerous territory now. “Buck-”

“Why is it different now?” Buck says. “We’ve both dated people at the same time before. Taylor and Ana, Marisol and Natalia. Why is this different?”

Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s capable of breathing. “Buck-”

“It’s not because I’m with Tommy,” Buck says, raking a hand through his hair. “Or that I’m bi. It’s not actually any of it, is it, Eddie?”

He doesn’t sound angry, just - resigned. Tired. The beer bottle is clammy against Eddie’s palm. 

“You never answered my question earlier,” Buck says. “About if you would get married again.”

When Eddie speaks, his voice feels like sandpaper. “Maybe. If it was the right person.”

“Is Marisol the right person?”

“Is Tommy?”

Buck flinches, minuscule. “I asked first.”

“You know what my answer is, Buck,” Eddie says, and he’s tired, so tired. 

“You know mine too,” Buck says, soft.

He does know. Just like he knows Buck’s favourite song, favourite dinner, favourite feel-good rom-com. Just like he knows that Buck will spend all of tomorrow night dancing with Tommy, but he’ll save one dance for Christopher, spinning him around the middle of the room while Eddie watches. Just like how he knows -

“Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie realizes how close they are now, facing each other with the moon still high overhead, lips a hairsbreadth apart. “We can’t.”

Eddie can feel Buck’s exhale against his lips. “I know,” he says. Taking a step back feels like swimming against a riptide, but he manages to get his limbs to cooperate eventually. “We should head back in.”

Buck swallows, chin bobbing as he nods. “Yeah. I’ll - uh. See you tomorrow?”

There’s something here, slipping out of Eddie’s grasp. He doesn’t think either of them knows quite how to cling on to it. 

“See you tomorrow,” he echoes, and then Buck’s turning toward the door, back to the hallway that’ll lead him to his room, to Tommy in his bed.

Eddie waits until he’s fully out of sight before he follows.

also on ao3!

---

tags: @leothil @sibylsleaves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @deformed-globule @cantyouseethatyouresmotheringme @silassstingy

[its-steddie-time]

For as long as he can remember, Steve Harrington’s head has been a confusing place to be.

His mind is a cacophony of sound—voices, bubble wrap, TV static, chairs scraping against wooden floors, a metronome, shattering glass, heartbeats—loudness.

He tries to drown it out with music, joins the swim team so he can put his head under water and let it flood him, drives his car too fast on warm nights with the windows down, gives kisses that ground him in the softness of someone’s lips.

When those things don’t help, he tries intoxication—beers downed much too quickly, shots that burn the back of his throat, cigarettes that fill his veins with the hum of nicotine, lines of coke off a mirror in the bathroom of a party—it’s not enough. He doesn’t know if anything ever will be.

But something shifts when he finds himself smashed against a wall with a broken bottle held to his neck by a deliriously panicked Eddie Munson.

And sure, he’s had a lot of head trauma already. And sure, he’s terrified and unsure of anything—but the way Eddie holds him still, the way he all but lifts him off the ground—it makes Steve’s mind go blank. Just for a moment, before the world and all its noises come crashing back. But not before he can see something in Eddie’s eyes, something like understanding. Something that makes him pay attention to the way Eddie talks, the way he moves.

He understands enough to know that when Eddie talks to him about Ozzy and Nancy and being metal, it’s something more. They walk side by side, hands brushing together in a way that could be accidental but both of them know it isn’t.

Later, when Steve helps Dustin drag Eddie’s body out of the upside down, his head goes haywire. Seeing Eddie like that is like a gunshot. It’s water trying to fit down a clogged drain, a record scratching.

Eddie’s alive—a fact that repeats itself over and over and over and over again in Steve’s head until it’s all he can hear.

When Eddie’s awake again in the hospital, Steve kisses him for the first time—full of feeling and dirt and Eddie’s blood on his lips, and it’s like the click of a lighter, it’s water bubbling on a stove, it’s a shell held up to his ear to hear the ocean sounds.

They start dating and it feels as natural a progression as anything. Eddie is careful. He's careful with Steve. Hesitant hands and soft kisses.

Steve is nervous to ask for what he really wants, the things he imagines but never says out loud—dark corners and sweaty skin and Eddie’s hands around his neck. Eddie’s thumb and forefinger pushing into the yielding flesh under his jaw, cutting off his air supply. Steve used to think choking during sex meant two hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing—but he made it his business to learn the proper way.

He wonders if Eddie knows how, if Eddie would ever dare to do something like that with him. For all the softness Eddie shows him, there’s a shadowy version of him too—one that grins during gory movie scenes, one that turns the shower water to scalding, one that enjoys eating full slices of lemon, one with calluses on his fingers from hours spent practicing guitar—dents from pushing hard into the strings, day after day even when it hurt.

So Steve decides to try.

They’re in Steve’s bed, making out in the fading light coming in from the window. Steve climbs onto Eddie, licking into his mouth with practiced purpose. Eddie tastes so good, and Steve moans when he feels Eddie’s hands on his hips, swallows Eddie’s soft whine when Steve grinds down on him.

Eddie flips them over, kissing Steve’s scars as he makes his way up Steve’s body to his lips. They kiss hungrily, with a slow building heat that burns in both of their bodies. Eddie breaks the kiss and Steve takes his chance—grabbing hold of one of Eddie’s hands and placing it gently over his throat. Eddie stares down at him, not removing his hand but he looks unsure of himself.

Steve whispers, “Ed, can we talk about something?”

Eddie smiles, letting his hand linger for a moment before rolling off of Steve. They sit on the bed cross-legged, facing each other. Eddie scrapes the sweaty hair off his neck, tying it up in a bun.

He speaks slowly, a cheeky smile on his face, “So. What was that about Stevie? Wanna tell me what’s goin on in that pretty head of yours?”

Steve sighs, running a hand through his own messy hair.

“I don’t know…” he starts—but Eddie stops him with a gentle but firm, “Yes you do. Take a deep breath for me, and tell me something, big boy.”

Steve obeys, waiting for his heartbeat to regulate before he tries to speak again, “You know how I always tell you about the noise in my head? The loudness?”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t say anything. Just waits patiently for Steve to get to his point.

“My whole life I’ve tried to find a way to turn down the volume, something that makes it all stop, even for just a little while,” Steve’s voice is shaky, but Eddie just smiles at him encouragingly.

“I want you to—I mean I’d like it if you—" he stutters, trying to muster his last bit of courage, “I want you to choke me, Eddie. I want you to choke me til my mind goes blank, til I black out. I know how that sounds, but I trust you and I—"

Eddie leans forward, cutting Steve off with a kiss.

He pulls back and says, “I want that too. I keep thinking about how pretty you’d be, looking into your eyes while the noise slips away. I want to do that for you.”

They don’t do it right away, it wouldn’t make sense. Neither of them has done this with anyone else, and Eddie wants to get it right. Steve shows him how, hand over Eddie’s hand while Eddie digs his fingers into Steve’s neck. They do other things too.

Steve gives Eddie head every chance he gets, loving the way it feels and especially Eddie’s hands in his hair while he sucks him off. They kiss in the shower, wet bodies pressed together. Eddie leaves hickeys on his collarbone, his inner thighs, his stomach.

Steve learns that Eddie loves it when Steve says his name, loves making Steve lose it from all his teasing, loves making eye contact while they fuck, loves Steve. Neither of them has said the words yet but it’s only a matter of time now.

When Eddie finally feels confident enough to try really choking him, it’s unlike anything Steve has ever experienced.

He can feel the lack of air in his body, all noise disappearing from his head, the silence is full and all consuming. He can barely feel Eddie’s fingers anymore, Eddie’s face blurs above him, his hands go numb and tingling, the bed underneath him feels like sinking into jelly, and his ears are ringing—his vision goes spotty and it’s like all the times he’s rubbed at his eyes a little too hard—strange particles swimming in the air that he sees through heavy eyelids.

He feels himself slip, the room tilting on its axis, suddenly feeling the turn of the earth. When he comes back into focus, Eddie’s hand is no longer around his neck. He leans in to kiss Steve softly, and Steve feels himself cling to Eddie like a life preserver. Eddie helps him sit up slowly, holding a glass of water to Steve’s mouth and gently telling him to drink.

The water feels amazing hitting Steve’s dry lips and traveling cool down his throat. His eyelids still feel heavy and all he wants is to close them fully. After Eddie is satisfied by his water drinking, he holds Steve close. Steve falls asleep with his head on Eddie’s chest, taking comfort in the rise and fall, the solid beat of Eddie’s heart. It sounds like waves lapping against a dock, like the flipping of book pages, like the pop and fizz of a soda can being opened, like hummingbird wings.

Over time, Steve learns that there are many different kinds of noise—dissonance yes, but music as well, feathery silky sounds, swirling words, even silence itself—and there’s Eddie.

Eddie, who somehow comes to him with lively chatter and quick words, dripping with passion—only to just as easily make it all go away. Eddie sounds like rain on roof shingles, music echoing off the walls, like pop rocks crackling, a thunder clap, bowling pins toppling to the floor, a roaring crowd at a concert, a deep sigh of relief—and Steve finds himself totally in love with those sounds.

The sounds of Eddie Munson.

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[ariesmoontarot]

Important Message From Spirit🦋

The Piles:

Book A Personal Reading Here

The collective is in this very emotional energy. It’s like feeling so imaginative, passionate, in love (even if you don’t have a lover), & so sad and lonely at the same time. We’ve been feeling everything so deeply and our intuition is extremely heightened during this time. We’re very sensitive to energies and other peoples feelings, even our own feelings. This reading is timeless so whenever you come across this, it’ll be meant for you.

♡Pile One♡:

Based off the picture you chose I feel like you might’ve found love in the city, out of town (or they were out of town), you could be from a city or the other way around, but overall there’s this energy of looking for spiritual love. You want a deep connection that connects you to deeper parts of yourself. For some of you it could be that maybe you are finding love within yourself and learning to live in your truth. I see you expressing yourself authentically and being open and honest about how you feel and what you’re thinking. I also see some of you having a conversation with someone who will be expressing how they truly feel for you.

Channeled Song: We Found Love -Rihanna ft. Calvin Harris ( when she says “we found love in a hopeless place”) Hey There Lonely Girl -Eddie Holman (when he says “hey there lonely girl, lonely girl, don’t you know this lonely boy loves you”.) , Confidence -Ocean Alley (when he says “It’s all about confidence, babyyy”.)

I’m seeing you in this soft, nurturing energy. You’re loving yourself more, taking care of those around you, for some of you taking care of your kid(s), family, & the things you cherish most. You’re feeling really appreciative or you will be. I also see that someone has really nice eyes. Could be blue, light brown, or greenish hazel. Spirit is saying that you’ve been really patient, dedicated, & efficient. You’re putting in efficient effort into your priorities, goals, & connections. For some of you I’m hearing you’re focusing on nature or connecting with animals, taking care of animals/pets. Take that how it resonates. You’re reaping some type of reward for your hard work and discipline and it’s related to a relationship or important connection in your life. I’m hearing you’ve healed something that was hurting you and you’ve learned to love yourself and the things around you more deeply. You’ve connected to your roots and strengthened your faith and in doing this, you’ve removed illusions and feelings of confusion because you’re more grounded within your energy. You were feeling stuck in a temporary situation and it could’ve been in a connection for some of you. It was causing anxiety, stress, fear, & imbalance in your life. It definitely took up a lot of your thoughts and I’m seeing a change happening where you’re taking back your power and gaining control over your mind. Now isn’t the time for you to do anything impulsive or risky. Like diving into some kind of situation that you know isn’t good for you, that will resonate for some of you. It’s like someone left you out in the cold, kicked you while you were down, wasn’t there for you when you needed them most and everytime you’re thriving, looking good, healthy etc. they want to come back in and try to trick you into focusing on them or what you could’ve had with them. Don’t let this person in your energy for those that resonate with this. For my feminines I feel like you’re finally tapping back into your loving, compassionate, and nurturing energy. You’ve manifested communication with someone that you share a deep connection with and I’m sensing you really trust this person or you will. It can be a friend, lover, family, whatever. There’s distance between you and I feel like you’ve both been alone for some time. You’ve spent time in solitude, self reflecting, and so has this person. Trust your intuition and how you feel. I feel like this is a connection that is meant to heal you and it will bring you so much joy and happiness. it is the type of connection that will heal your inner child and bring back out your creativity. I feel like whenever you met or got closer to each other you both were in a period of your life where there was a lack of faith and hope. It’s like where hard times meet and end for the both of you. Not necessarily end, but they get so much easier to deal with when you’re with this person or have each other in your lives. Both of you could’ve grew up in families, or in an urban city/ place that was of low income. This connection is divinely guided. For those of you where this is a romantic situation, I see them hiding how they truly feel about you behind this cold demeanor because they’re still learning how they feel so they can better understand it. However, they are very honest and blunt with you. I feel like they could be a little distant at times or when you communicate with them it’s very quick and doesn’t necessarily last for that long. The conversations are short between you. They’re very patient and kind towards you. I feel like they really value this connection with you. Romantically speaking, they want to take their time with you and I see them wanting a very long-term commitment with you. For others there is some type of investment that you and this person are working towards together and it will be successful spirit is saying. Things might feel stagnant like they are moving slow or not exactly going at the pace that you want but I feel like this is the pace that you need.

This person feels a little bit stuck right now because they are gaining clarity about how they feel and trying to figure out a way to offer you something. it’s like they’re trying to figure out a way to communicate with you that they want a relationship with you, and they want to be able to invest in a future with you but they need a little bit of time to come forward, but they will. For others I feel like there are some type of ideas or plans that are being made and this person involved needs time to be able to think about what they wanna do and how they wanna go about these plans. Romantically they don’t wanna lose you. They are already sad as it is because I feel like they know that you’re holding back a deeper part of yourself, and they want to see and experience that deeper part of you. They want you to express your love for them and they want you to be nurturing and I’m seeing that they think that you are their person and they are hiding how they feel because of fear. They’re also letting go of bad habits and their pride. What’s next for you guys in romantic situations, I see this person coming in fast and they’re ready to tell you how they feel because I feel like they can’t see life without you in it you make them so happy and having you in their life feels like a blessing. It might not be today. It might not be tomorrow but it’s coming really really soon. For those of you in other situations that aren’t romantic I see this person getting really inspired by something and that specific idea or feeling that they have, they’re going to tell you about it and it’s going to be something that is really smart and it will make the both of you very happy. For those of you who have kids and it’s not with this person, I see you getting in a relationship with them and they’re being very loving and supportive with you and your child or children. They want to take care of you.

♡━━━♡━━━♡

♡Pile Two♡:

Based off the picture you chose I feel like you’ve been very emotional and tapping into a deep part of yourself. You could be spending time alone, meditating, & learning more about who you are and what you believe in. Spirit is helping you learn to be more honest with yourself and others about how you feel and developing healthy ways of expressing it. Life could be flowing easily and I’m getting this energy of peace and serenity.

Channeled Song: No Air - Jordin Sparks ft. Chris Brown (the part where she says “if I should die before I wake, it’s cause you took my breath away. Losing you is like living in a world with no air.”)

There’s a connection in your life that you’ve been really patient about and I feel like things haven’t progressed the way you wanted. I’m hearing you put so much energy into it, but this person involved hasn’t shown up and offered you anything. You’ve put your focus and intention on loving yourself and those you cherish. You’re also focused on your responsibilities. 1111 can be significant. Communication, understanding, and honesty has been so hard with this person because when you try to talk to them it’s like they come off so cold and turn everything into a disagreement. They give you the cold shoulder and try to undermine you. I’m seeing that they always make it seem like things are harder for them and don’t consider your feelings, what you’re thinking, or even what you’re saying. It’s like talking to them is a losing game. However you’ve been independent, determined, confident, loving, & nurturing. You haven’t let this situation affect you. Or at least you aren’t anymore. You’re standing your ground. I’m seeing you manifesting clarity & you’re learning a very important lesson here. This person hurt you and has no intention of showing up the way you need them to. This could be a past person for a lot of you. They were blocking your blessings because you’ve held on and waited for them meanwhile they didn’t acknowledge it. You felt stuck and didn’t want to free yourself because you loved them. However it caused a lot of anxiety, confusion, indecision, & fear for you. It imbalanced your spiritual and emotional side. For a lot of you it’s that there’s a past person you’re holding onto that must be let go of in order for your blessing to be revealed. There are illusions and deceit in your life. Maybe it’s you just deceiving yourself because you know this person isn’t good for you. You’re self sabotaging yourself by allowing someone who’s only holding you back stick around. You don’t need this person, you want them. They don’t benefit you. You were drowning in emotion trying to save this person and just simply love them, but I’m hearing it’s time to let go. If you love something let it go, if it comes back to you then it’s for you, but if it doesn’t then you’ll know. Sometimes people will come back just for unhealthy reasons tho but when I say come back I mean come back and show up. Im hearing you take no chances of missing out. You’ll love someone for as long as you possibly can. You’ve been tossed to the side, left behind, lied to, and pushed away, but you still love endlessly. It’s time for that chapter of your life to end. You’re stepping into a new phase of your life and all that being breadcrumbed, confused, misled, lied to, and manipulated is in the past. You’re setting boundaries and you no longer tolerate it. I’m seeing you have the upper hand in a situation and you’re abundant. With energy, resources, whatever it is you may be abundant in you are able to share this with people who need it. I’m hearing you’re generous with your time and energy and you don’t mind spending quality time with those who need a light in their life. There is multiple energies around you. Multiple people who want your attention. I’m seeing you have your eyes set on what you want and you know exactly what that is. You want a deep connection with someone you can trust and commit to. I’m hearing you’ve checked out. You’ve put your emotions aside and now you’re giving off more of this intellectual energy. More aware, understanding, honest, smart, strategic, & blunt. You have very good discernment. Especially when it comes to other people’s energies and what is good for you and what isn’t. Trust what you know. Right now I’m having a hard time getting your messages out and I feel like spirit is saying the focus is you. You are the main highlight right now and you’re stepping into this divine feminine energy. If you don’t have feminine energy you’re stepping into a more intuitive, empathetic, nurturing energy. You are a healer whether you know it or not but you attract people who need you and your energy.

Just be careful not to let others drain you. Whatever blessings are coming for you spirit isn’t revealing too much. You’re diving deep into self reflection and spiritual awareness and I’m seeing you aren’t focused on love or relationships. Those come when you aren’t expecting it. Right now spirit is teaching you important lessons.

♡━━━♡━━━♡

♡Pile Three♡:

Based off the picture you chose I’m getting this energy of you feeling a bit melancholic and nostalgic in a bittersweet way. You’re spending time alone and focusing on tapping in with yourself because you’ve been feeling detached and disconnected from your feelings, maybe even your surroundings.

Channeled Song: Lose Control -Teddy Swims (specifically heard the part when he says “problematic, problem is I want your body like a fiend, like a bad habit. Bad habits hard to break when I’m with you. Yeah I know I can do it on my own, but I want that real full moon black magic, and it takes two.”)

I’m seeing that there are outside factors disrupting your life. It’s like situations that happen may feel like nothing ever goes your way. You’re holding back so much love and emotion and in this energy of hiding your love, hiding how you feel, being closed off emotionally, & feeling like you’re having a hard time letting go of emotions from your past. Maybe you’re having a hard time letting go of the way someone has made you feel. It’s like the feeling of rejection is weighing on you and maybe because of that hurt you’re isolating yourself and feeling lonely. You’re keeping yourself from being able to open up emotionally in connections. You know how you feel and why it is you feel the way you do but you’re still holding onto that hurt due to fear and anxiety. There is someone that God has for you and I’m seeing they will help you see through the illusions of your own emotions. Maybe even your pride is in the way. However this person is very emotionally intelligent and understanding they can just come off as very private at times. They know when to speak and they’re both logical and Intuitive when it comes to expressing themselves. They can be very passionate and flirty at times and sometimes be very rash about what they say or do. There’s a feeling either you’re feeling like you aren’t being appreciated enough or they are but I feel like spirit is telling you to step it up. Don’t hold back. Be open and free spirited. Allow yourself to feel and enjoy the feeling of love. Maybe you overthink too much at times and don’t allow yourself to feel. Some of you take your person for granted by not being emotionally there and making sure their needs are being met too. You’re very guarded about letting them in because of your boundaries. Spirit wants you to do what brings you joy. Don’t keep the sun out of your life because you’ve been hurt. I’m also hearing that no matter how other people act or what they say, never stop being you. You can come off with this very rigid and vain energy at times and I’m hearing it’s your ego. Listen to your intuitive side and give the love you want to give. Don’t listen to your fear. You are holding yourself back from receiving the love spirit wants you to receive. You’re hurting yourself because you won’t open up about how you feel to someone. I feel like you avoid conflicts and have a fear that you opening up about how you feel will start an argument. Know that hiding how you feel and refusing to communicate will only make things worse for you. It’s okay to feel passionate and excited. It’s okay to want someone and it’s okay to express how you feel to that person. I also feel like you don’t open up when you’re sad and you try to hide everything. Not everyone can read your mind. If you feel really overwhelmed take some time for yourself and then open up when you feel ready. Try to balance yourself out so your love life can be balanced as well. The more you’re in harmony with yourself and in tune with your emotions the more your love life improves. You miss opportunities when you refuse to make a choice and stay in a period of inaction. If you know what you want then act on it instead of letting the world make decisions for you. You will feel so much better when you allow yourself to do what you feel guided to do. Treat your partner with lovingly and morally. I feel like you want marriage and there is someone you deeply love in your life. This connection has the potential to lead to marriage. All you have to do is be honest. Even if this relationship doesn’t work out with the person you have in your life right now, you being honest and open will help you evolve and learn new lessons you need in order to move forward. I am seeing a positive result coming from your honesty though. Be sure that you know what you want before you act on it and plan your approach before taking action. All you need is confidence, courage, and drive. I feel like you’re picky about your lovers and so is this person. You both need independence and your own alone time.

Spirit is saying to be patient when it comes to this person. You both feel the same about each other honestly. I feel like if you say I love you to each other it’s genuine. If you haven’t said it yet you both love each other unconditionally. You’re ready to move forward and come towards your person. You might be scared because financially maybe you don’t feel stable and that creates insecurity within you but know that it’s okay. You don’t have to feel insecure about it with this person. Or with anyone for that matter. You may not be where you want to be financially but you don’t have to let that stop you. They think you are very intelligent and it’s a turn on for them. They are so attracted to the way you think and I feel like they admire the way you see life. They feel like you are their person and the relationship with you is very strong. It’s best to treat each other with gentleness and empathy because this relationship is very passionate so sometimes if not treated the right way anger or frustration can be an issue. You both want the traditional structured relationship and I’m seeing very high potential for this to happen. Be positive and do what you feel guided to do!! Pile one might resonate with some of you.

♡━━━♡━━━♡

♡Pile Four♡:

Based off the picture you chose I feel like you’re gaining clarity on a situation you didn’t see clearly before. Spirit is showing you the truth about something you’ve been feeling and it might be a truth that hurts, but it also lifts a weight that was holding you back or stagnant. It doesn’t have to be a truth that hurts though, that’s only for some!

Channeled Song: Counting Stars -OneRepublic (it’s crazy to me because in this song he says “in my face is flashing signs, seek it out and ye shall find.” And obviously lightning flashes)

You’re feeling a bit sad and disappointed because of a situation that happened in the recent past. I feel like you’re focused on the hurt rather than the positive side of things. Spirit is saying there are opportunities that are for you right now but you aren’t seeing them because you’re focused on negative feelings. However there is a wish fulfillment or something happening for you that will inspire you and give you hope. It’s like a divine revelation. You must get out of your own way. There are negative thoughts and fears circling your mind and this leads to self sabotage and constant hopelessness. There is abundance, love, happiness, and so much more waiting for you but you must let go of your worries. It’s easier said than done but when you tell yourself there is better you will eventually start to believe it. I see a romantic connection in store for a lot of you. For others I feel like a truth about a connection in your life has been revealed and it’s made you sad but it was for your own good. Things haven’t progressed the way you want them to but it’s because you aren’t focused on watering whatever it is you want to grow. I feel like some of you got clarity about how you feel towards someone and because you’re focused on how disappointed you are from other situations you’re not focused on this person. However they are abundant, nurturing, empathetic, intuitive, supportive, and understanding. They have love for you and I feel like they will understand how you feel if you open up to them. For others you’re not watering yourself enough. You aren’t loving yourself or realizing how much of an inspiring, kind, intelligent, divine being you are. Spirit wants you to devote more time and energy to yourself. I feel like communication with someone is happening very soon and there will be clarity and understanding in this conversation. Things will be balancing themselves out pretty quickly but there is a need for honesty. Take that however it resonates. I feel like some of you feel pessimistic about love and moving forward in life but spirit wants you to open up and enjoy the beauty of it. There are better times ahead and I feel like you are going to be receiving some type of good karma for all the hard work you’ve done in the past. You’ve been through so much and God is blessing you with something that will bring you so much peace. Just try to open yourself up to it and let go of the unnecessary burdens you’ve been carrying. Whatever hardships you’ve been facing I see you overcoming them and coming out stronger, more confident, & resilient. I also see you letting go of bad habits and making commitments to a very important job, person, or investment in your life. There will be plenty of opportunities coming your way.

♡━━━♡━━━♡

[lovebugism]

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that the customer is always right is giving me life right now, I think about it all the time. Thanks for putting so much care into it, it’s beautiful.

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | code red

summary: on a rainy saturday morning, eddie learns how to make you feel good. an unexpected visit from the redhead on cherry lane throws a wrench into your plans. (15k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love, newly established relationship, domestic bliss, max mayfield <;3 TW probable typos, swearing, very brief mentions of familial arguing, b*lly h*rgrove, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (f!receiving), eddie munch-son comes in his pants... again 18+ only!!

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Eddie looks pretty when he sleeps.

Well, he’s pretty all the time. Just a little extra now.

He’s at peace, totally lax in his slumber and in the quietude he’s found at your side. Pink mouth agape and billowing soft snores, long lashes fluttered shut and brushing the apples of his cheek, curly hair in a wild halo on his head and fanning across your pillow. This is the first time you’ve seen the loudmouth boy so still and so at ease in it.

Maybe that’s why he seems to look more perfect than usual now — because he’s different than you’ve ever seen him before. Calm. Quiet. 

He’s found this unfamiliar serenity in your bed, in your home, and beside your body. It’s beautiful in the way nature is beautiful. In the way it just exists and inspires such beauty despite itself. Like the moon or the ocean, Eddie is so pretty in his peacefulness, with no earthly idea of how heavenly he is.

You must look horrendous in comparison.

And not just because you’re next to the eighth wonder of the world.

You tend to sleep like it’s the first and the last time you ever will. You’re wild in your slumber, not a moon but a beast, and forced to wear it all the next morning. Your mussed hair, puffy eyes, and rounded cheeks testify to the barbaric nature of your beauty rest. Your mornings, more often than not, are usually battles with the unrecognizable monster you wake with.

So, to save yourself from the inevitable embarrassment, you opt to get an early start on your day.

You try to slip soundlessly out of bed, but every movement feels aggressive in the quiet. Your blankets shuffle too loudly, your floors creak with every step, and your door squeaks more violently than you’ve ever heard it. Despite your gentleness, it’s all too audible when you’re still swaddled in the solitude of an early morning. 

The strident sound of metal door hinges makes you wince. You look over your shoulder, expecting to see the sleeping boy beginning to rouse. You’re relieved to find him as still as ever. Still wrapped up in the blankets and clutching the pillow in a death grip, Eddie’s face is shoved contently into the cushion. Lips pouted. Snores muffled. Hair untamed.

The ocean. The moon.

You wonder how often he shares a bed. If he ever has before. 

He spent the majority of the night taking up most of the mattress. The only time his limbs weren’t totally starfished was when he was curled up and stealing the blankets. You didn’t mind, though. You found it quite endearing, actually. Especially when Eddie would wake at some random point in the night and cover you back up again, ushering you back into his side.

“Sorry,” he’d mumbled, slurred and still groggy with sleep.

“’S okay,” you’d whisper in response.

Because it was.

You’d happily suffer the cold and barely an inch of space on any bed if it meant Eddie was beside you to pull you back into him again.

Your assurances went unheard, however, because he was already slipping back into his slumber. When he was deep asleep once more, Eddie would turn to his other side and forget you were there. He’d take the blankets and the cuddles with him while you curled into his back in attempts to chase them both.

And, rather strangely, it was the best night’s sleep you think you’ve ever had.

That’s probably why it’s easier for you to get out of bed now, despite all the things calling you back to it. Stormy weather, warm blankets, and a beautiful boy wrapped up in it all. Your body longs to dress up in it and him, but you don’t allow yourself the privilege. 

You can’t.

The last boy to stay over that wasn’t Steve was Jason Carver. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed douchebag woke up before you the following morning — the six o’clock wake time likely engraved into the gym rat’s psyche. And you, having put far too much work into your appearance than he was worth and having slept in all of it, didn’t look your best. 

Your makeup was smudged, your hair was a mess, and your eyes and cheeks were swollen with sleep. 

To Jason, you were a different person entirely. 

A beast. A monster.

“It’s nothing,” he’d shrugged when you asked him why he looked like he just saw a ghost. “You just… You look different.”

Not yet recovered from the Hargrove heartache, you had little patience for assholes disturbing your peace. You squint your tired eyes at him in return. “If a girl’s never let you stay over before, you can just say that, Carver.”

That shut him up real quick.

You think you could probably take that kind of assholery from a lot of people. It’s not like you haven’t before, but it’d be different coming from Eddie — from the only boy who’s made you feel worthy of actual affection. Not just the bogus kind that disappears when the sex is over.

To save both of you from any potential suffering, you slink quietly out of your room and tiptoe down the hallway. You wash your face and brush your teeth with the faucet on low. You try your best to tame your wild hair and sleep-ridden features without making too much noise.

It wouldn’t matter how quiet you were, though. You could’ve been completely and utterly silent; Eddie still would’ve known you were gone.

He noticed your absence the second you got out of bed. 

It was like you left an iceberg of emptiness in the place of your warmth. 

He heard the creak of your short trek down the hallway, the soft click of the bathroom door latching, and then the low hiss of the faucet when you turned on the sink. All of your nearly inaudible noises reminded him that he wasn’t alone — that, for the first time in his life, he was sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t just a friend.

It’s a little uncanny, living a life he never thought he would have. The freak from Forest Hills Trailer Park is sleeping in a pretty girl’s bed. A pretty girl who cooked him dinner the night before and gave him mind-blowing head right after, providing him an orgasm from which he swears his legs still tingle. 

It’s something straight out of his dreams. Something that only could’ve existed in his head before now. Before you. It’s almost too good to be true.

More than feeling underserving of it, Eddie’s got no idea what to do with it. 

What do you do for a girl who’s too perfect for everything? 

There’s nothing he could do for you, nothing he could give to you, that would come close to matching how he feels about you. Having all these feelings but not the means to describe them is frustrating. Suffocating.

He just wants to be able to tell you that he doesn’t want any of this to be about him, that he doesn’t want to be like all the assholes you’ve known before. You’re not a toy to him, not some pliable thing without feelings that’s only fun until it isn’t. 

He wants whatever parts of you you’re willing to give him — grateful for a piece of your heart, enraptured for the whole of it. Eddie just wants these too big feelings to be mutual, those innocent and otherwise.

He hears the bathroom door creeaak slowly open after a few minutes more. It’s followed by the soft padding of your feet down the hall. He can tell you’re trying to be quiet. 

Because he loves you, he pretends to be asleep when you come back to the bedroom. He buries his smile into the pillow when you slither into bed with the softest touches a human being can muster. All because you don’t want to wake him.

The boy humors you for a few moments before acting like he’s waking up all over again. He groans to himself, writhing as he tenses his tired limbs.

You wince. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” you whisper.

With his eyes still closed, Eddie shakes his wild head against the pillow. 

He squeezes them shut while he stretches, turning onto his arched back and curling his arms above his head. The cutest, muffled whine sounds from the back of his throat while he tries to make use of his stiff limbs. The noise resembles that of a yawning puppy making a sound much larger than itself. You can’t help but smile.

“Morning,” you greet, grinning at the newly woken boy. You prop yourself on your elbow and lean a few inches over to press a chaste kiss to the apple of his warmed cheek.

Eddie smiles a tired, crooked smile in return.

With the sleep finally cleared from his eyes, he can see you much better. Now, freshened up, you look less like a casualty of the early morning. You’re glowing, smelling of vanilla and flower petals, beaming at him without the added weight of exhaustion. No one should look so pretty at this hour. 

Or any hour, really.

“Yes, it is…” he lilts, a tad bit gruff with sleep.

Your cheeks speckle with hot embers. 

Despite the very visceral reactions each of his compliments give you, you squint at him in return. “Are you always this charming so early in the morning?”

“When there’s a pretty girl in bed next to me, yeah.”

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask him, opting out of what would otherwise be ten minutes of meaningless banter.

“Better than I have in a long time,” Eddie answers without thinking. He says it with full sincerity but forgets to forgo the teasing inflection in his voice. It makes you roll your eyes, figuring he still must be mocking you. 

He quickly adds: “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the pretty girl in bed next to me, alright? I promise.”

“Good,” you hum with a tightlipped smile. “‘Cause I slept pretty good, too... You’re like a personal space heater, you know?”

It makes sense, really, for such a spitfire to radiate such warmth. And you, lacking enough blankets to stay sufficiently cozy throughout the night, took to Eddie like honey on toast. He was a weighted blanket, a heating pad, and a teddy bear rolled into one. 

You think he might be the most comfortable person you’ve ever slept with — in the most literal sense, of course. But you’ll keep that to yourself, lest you break Robin Buckley’s heart.

“Is that why you kept putting your cold feet on me all night?” he jokes.

Your cheeks blot with heat all over again. Your face scrunches softly, partly in embarrassment but mostly in apology. “Sorry…” your murmur.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. His assurance comes swiftly, a brisk slap in the face to your simmering worry that you might’ve made him uncomfortable in some way. Eddie often forgets how quick you are to take the blame for something. Or to find a too literal meaning in one of his dumb jokes. 

He makes a mental note to work on that. He can’t have his best girl thinking she’s less than perfect because he never learned to think before he speaks.

“I’m just glad I could be of service, sweetheart.”

“So you don’t regret sleeping over?” you wonder like a meek child, voice tiny and gaze swimming with timidity — expecting rejection.

“No,” he answers assuredly and with the curt shake of his head. His lips jut softly out as he turns his gaze to the ceiling. He seems to think to himself for a moment before turning his umber irises back to you again, nose scrunched. “I don’t think I could regret anything with you, honestly.”

You know there are a lot of things you could do in this moment.

You could squeal like a teenage girl and run around your tiny apartment. With the burst of energy his affection gives you, you think you could take a lap around the block in five seconds flat. 

You could also smack a kiss to his lips if you wanted. You could kiss him and keep on kissing him until both of you are blue in the face.

Or you could pretend you’re not all that affected by his words. You could play it cool, joke around like this foreign fluttering feeling in your belly is one you’ve felt before.

It’s too easy to choose the latter.

“Wow,” you lilt with wide eyes, dragging out the vowel for effect. “The charm really charged up overnight, huh?”

“You caught me at a good time,” he quips.

“I’m honestly a little impressed.”

“Well, be prepared to be fucking baffled, sweetheart, ‘cause I’m not getting out of this bed all day,” he threatens, brown eyes twinkling and pink lips curling. 

He rises from the mattress to lean over you. His slender figure cages yours in the same way his words do. Both are equally as warm and all-consuming.

The offer is bold and not really an offer at all. He could easily blame it on the weather if he needed to. He could bluff and say it was because of the pounding rain outside — not because being away from you for too long hurts like burning lungs screeching for air. 

If you take angst with his self-invite, there are a million lies he could come up with on the spot. But he knows you won’t. You’re too kind for your own good, and you love on him more than he deserves.

So, it really shouldn’t surprise him when you smile and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Eddie has to fight back a shiver that crawls up his spine when your fingers curl into his untamed hair.

“Good,” you hum again, mouth parting to welcome his own shortly after.

He kisses you like he was made to do it. Your lips interlock, break apart, then press together again in an even rhythm. It’s like nodding your head to your favorite song — Eddie doesn’t have to think about doing it, he just does it.

It makes you wonder when he stopped overthinking each of his movements with you. His confidence bloomed like a flower, too gradual for you to catch. You only know that he’s blossomed wholly now. He’s at ease and finally comfortable with you. That’s all you ever wanted in the first place.

Your lips separate with an audible click when Eddie pulls away from you.

“Should I brush my teeth?” he wonders with furrowed brows, made self-conscious by the minty freshness on your tongue.

He’s sort of looking for guidance here. Really, his question is, do couples care about morning breath, or do they love each other too much to think about it? 

“I feel like I probably have crazy morning breath.”

“It’s not too bad,” you shake your head and fight the urge to tell him you’ve tasted far worse than stupid morning breath. You don’t want your slutty humor to sour the mood.

“No?”

“No. I promise. It’s fine.”

Eddie’s face scrunches for a moment as he thinks to himself. He tries to gauge whether or not you’re bluffing — if you really do mean it or if you like him too much to tell him that truth. 

But maybe that’s what couples do. Maybe they don’t care about morning breath. Maybe they just love the other person enough to brush their teeth anyway.

He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back—”

“Eddie, don’t!” you plead, borderline whining when he threatens to slip out of your grip. You tighten your arms around his shoulders but don’t fight when he keeps inching away.

“I’ll be right back!”

Your mewls of displeasure are muffled when he reaches the bathroom.

Eddie stays gone for no longer than five minutes. He uses the toothbrush you bought for him to freshen up his mouth. He brushes them a tad bit aggressively in his haste. And when he gargles your spearmint mouthwash, he nearly chokes on it because he’s scrambling like a madman to get back to you. 

He knows he’s got no real reason to rush other than his promise of being right back. Truth be told, he just hates depriving himself of you longer than he has to.

Despite having hurried, Eddie finds you all covered up and facing the opposite way of the door when he returns. “Did you survive?” he jokes as he walks back into your bedroom.

“No,” you answer into the pillow.

He laughs softly to himself when he crawls back into your bed, bounding over you and to the opposite side of the mattress. The blankets are still crumpled up in his shape. It’s all too easy to slip back in beside you — especially when you slither closer to him almost immediately.

“Poor thing,” Eddie coos at the sight of your playfully pouted lips. He ducks down to press a kiss to them. 

The action comes so suddenly it makes your eyes go wide. You pull the blankets up to your chin. “What was that for?” you ask in a shy, warm murmur.

Eddie shrugs. 

He doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t know why he’s just kissed you or why he’s ever wanted to before. Sometimes it just feels right to. 

“You just looked like you needed to be kissed,” he concludes.

Your grin widens. “I do.”

“I knew it.”

“Desperately so,” you affirm, only partly joking. “More than I need to breathe, in fact.”

“Ooh,” Eddie hums in return. “Guess I should keep kissing you then, huh?”

“Never ever stop kissing me, Eddie Munson.”

The confirmation of your yearning is all he really needs. Your playful but still wholehearted affirmation bats away his lingering insecurities. You want him like he wants you. The validation lets him melt emphatically into you like pancake syrup or marshmallow fluff. 

Something sickly sweet and twice as sticky.

Your kisses are just the same. They’re languid and made of velvet. As they deepen, you begin to suck on the soft plush of his bottom lip. Your expert tongue swipes against his mostly unskilled one. It’s slow and easy and relaxed — like you’ve already been kissing him for an eternity with a willingness to kiss him for an eternity more.

“See?” Eddie teases, partly muffled against your mouth until he can pull far enough away to smile at you with his freshly brushed teeth. “Isn’t this better?”

“I thought I said to keep kissing me,” you answer, wrenching the collar of his shirt in your fists to pull him back down again.

“Yes, ma’am,” he jokes back. Thankfully, your mouth is already on his by the time his words settle over him. It wasn’t supposed to be sexual — but now, lying over you and between your legs, it feels sexual. 

You don’t see the flash of shock on his features — not the wide eyes or the raised brows — but you do feel him tense. It’s like a rock is suddenly lying on top of you. You couldn’t make fun of him even if you wanted to, though. You’re exponentially wetter at his words.

Your innocent kisses become passionate. They’re wide, quicker, needier. 

Weighed down by the heaviness of the moment, you don’t think twice when your hand trails down his chest. 

Your touch is soft like rain. Your fingers drip drip drip down his torso and stomach, heading for the hem of his pajama pants. You hardly realize you’re doing it until Eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist. 

He’s not pulling you away. He’s not even urging your closer. He’s just reminding you that you don’t have to.

“Sorry,” you mutter against his mouth anyway.

“Don’t be,” he assures, shaking his head as he pulls back from you. The edges of his fluffy curls tickle your jaw. “It’s my turn now, right?”

“Your… turn?” you echo.

“I mean... I gotta return the favor now. Right?”

He’s talking about the night before. About the head-rolling orgasm and the haze he’s been in ever since. It’s the only way he can ask to eat you out without stuttering over himself like an idiot. The only other time he’s been able to talk about it was that evening on the phone with you — when he held the plastic telephone in one hand and his cock in the other.

“Wish I’d gotten to taste you earlier,” he confessed, so close to his orgasm he could taste it. “I’m thinking about how I coulda taken you on that bench... Get on my knees for you… Shove my head between your legs…”

The longing to taste you hasn’t yet left him.

He knows he might’ve had the opportunity forever ago if he wasn’t such a loser. But now, all he can do is make some lame excuse that sounds a lot less enthusiastic than he feels. He figures it might be better than getting on his knees and outright begging to put his mouth on you, though.

“Eddie…” you mutter in a delicate whisper.

He lifts your wrist from between your bodies and lays it on the pillow beside your head. The move feels strangely dominant. It strikes a feeling of overwhelming desire within you. You know you’d do just about anything he wanted in that moment. 

If he wants to make you feel good, that’s great. If he wants to use you to make himself feel good, that’s okay too. You don’t really care what he wants to do with you — to you.  But you do want to know if he truly wants to do them.

“What’s that look for?” he asks at your bemused expression.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” Eddie nods.

He’s memorized the whole spiel already. Don’t do it if you feel like you have to, you always tell him. I’m fine just making you feel good if that’s all you wanna do. Or if you don’t wanna do anything at all. It’s all okay, I promise.

“Just because I did it for you doesn’t mean you have to—”

“I know,” he repeats, a bit more desperate than before. He drops his face down to nudge his nose against the bridge of yours, then rises again shortly after. “That was just my way of asking…”

“To eat me out?” you press.

Eddie nods.

“Well… You coulda just said.”

“Yeah,” the boy scoffs. “Because ‘good morning, can I perform cunnilingus on you’ is so romantic.”

You laugh. It does sound quite strange, but you only meant that most guys aren’t usually polite enough to ask. The few that care to return the favor at all just assume you want it without question.

Most times, you do.

But still, an invitation would be nice.

“Well, I would’ve said yes,” you manage through your giggles. “Just so you know.”

Eddie’s nose scrunches. “Really?”

“Totally. I mean, my legs would’ve been wide open immediately—”

It takes him a moment too long to realize you’re just messing with him. You’re serious, sort of, but still teasing. He huffs in annoyance and nods just to humor you. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Like— ‘Oh, my god, where did my underwear go?’”

“Shut up,” Eddie grouses despite his own laughter. He presses another kiss to your mouth, partly to end your harmless taunting but also because he thinks you’re so damn cute.

He didn’t think the girl people call the town slut would turn out to be such a dork. He almost can’t believe there was ever a time when you intimidated him — when he would walk on eggshells around you out of fear of losing cool points with you. You’re a bigger idiot than he is a lot of the time.

You try to kiss him back, but it’s hard when you’re smiling so wide.

“I’m kidding, but I’m serious,” you confess after he’s pulled away again. Your eyes sparkle as they flit between both of his cinnamon-tinted ones. “You have… no idea what you do to me, Eddie Munson.”

He figures that’s at least half true.

As easy as it is for him to you read most times, he finds it incredibly difficult to gauge what’s going on inside your head. He’s still confused (and a little concerned) at how he got you in the first place. He has no idea why you ever wanted to be his friend, let alone anything more than that.

But, on the other hand, he knows how he feels about you. It’s all pounding hearts and aching chests and swirling stomachs. You might be afflicted by the same sort of love bug he is.

“I don’t know,” he singsongs. “I think I might have an idea.”

“I can show you better than I can tell you,” you offer with his wrist already in hand.

Eddie props himself on one arm while his other journeys down the length of your body. He’s forced to mourn the feeling of your warm skin when your oversized t-shirt from the night before shields him from you. His grief is fleeting and quickly fulfilled when you guide his fingers through the hem of your underwear.

You’re far warmer beneath the cotton fabric. Wetter too. The pads of his fingertips slide over the thatch of trimmed hair at your pubic bone before settling over the softness of your lips. They feel like velvet compared to the silk they keep hidden.

His finger dips between them, just below the button of your clit, and it makes both of you moan. You, from a brief ripple of pleasure, and Eddie, from the notion that you’re this wet only for him.

“If you ever needed proof of how much I want you, here it is,” you tease, all breathy and with a pretty smile.

Eddie’s too overwhelmed by the feel of you to respond. Overcome with the want to touch you all over, all he can do is duck down for another kiss. It’s abrupt and a bit jejune — noses knocking together before your lips can meet properly. 

Eddie feels you smile against his mouth and exhale a laugh through your nose. He’s too clouded with lust to care that you’re finding humor in him. Too affected by his adoration for you to feel humiliated.

Several moments pass like that one. With his lips caressing yours the same way his hand caresses your cunt. He seems to be more focused on feeling you than rushing you towards an orgasm.

He spends ample time tracing the edges of your pussy. He circles the swelling button of your clit before dipping down to feel your hole clench around nothing as it threatens to suck his fingers inside. He’s only memorizing you — committing every inch of your cunt to memory — lest it be the last time he ever gets to touch you.

You wonder if he knows where to go from here, what to do next.

You decide it might be better to guide him anyway. For his sake and for yours.

“Should I take them off?” you ask.

Eddie nods. The tip of his nose glides against yours, and the ends of his hair brush the sides of your face. He parts from you and sits back on his haunches. When your hands reach for your underwear, his dart out to stop you. 

“Wait,” he protests, your wrists in his grip. “Let me do it.”

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile and rest your hands obediently on your stomach as Eddie’s fingers curl around the hem of your panties. His touch is much colder compared to your warmed skin. It makes you wonder if he’s nervous.

When he tugs your panties down, you lift your hips to aid him. He pulls the fabric up your thighs and over your legs, then balls the cotton in his fist to chuck them rather dramatically over his shoulder. You hear it land somewhere on the floor behind him. It makes you giggle. 

He’s too distracted to hear you, though.

You watch him watch you. His chocolate eyes are wide as they blink down at you like they’ve never seen you before. His palms absentmindedly caress the very backs of your thighs, keeping you nice and spread for him so he can gape at your glistening pussy without issue.

You figure this must be what virgins do — stare in absolute wonder at the first vagina they ever see. You certainly gawked at Steve Harrington’s inhumanely large cock the night he took your virginity. 

It was a lifetime ago now, but you still remember how the leather of his backseat stuck to your sweaty skin and how his car rocked with each of his languid thrusts.

It’s sort of what Eddie’s doing now, making mental notes of everything so he’ll never forget them. And as proud as it makes you feel, you can’t help but writhe in self-consciousness below him. 

“I hate when you do that…” you half-whine within your half-joke.

Eddie feels your thighs tense and drift closed. He lets you half-heartedly shield yourself, but the attempt is futile. You can’t quite shut your legs from where he sits between them. He rubs soothingly along the outsides of your knees.

“Do what?” he wonders with furrowed brows.

“Look at me like that…”

It doesn’t lessen his confusion. 

He hadn’t seen anything wrong with what he was doing before. You were his girlfriend, after all — surely he was allowed to look at you every now and then. 

Eddie figures he can’t be blamed for it anyway. Looking at you was like looking at the moon or the ocean. It only felt right to awe at your beauty, even if it is one he’s already amply admired.

But it’s different, still.

The moon didn’t rise for him. Oceans didn’t touch horizons for him. But your cunt, made of the finest silk and looking just the same, glistened all for him. Just for him.

“I’m not allowed to look at you?” he laughs.

“No one’s ever, like… stopped and looked at me before,” you confess, still wriggling like you can’t quite get comfortable. You’ll never get used to being ogled at like a piece of fine ancient art when, at best, you feel like some mundane painting that might suffice in a motel lobby. “It’s weird…”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re so pretty.”

“Shut up,” you laugh but wholeheartedly accept the kiss he threatens you with anyway.

It’s a simple peck. A sweet one. An easy one. Not too deep, but passionate still.

Eddie forces himself to pull back again. He loses his usually playful disposition and grows quite boyishly serious. “Not to be, like, super lame or whatever, but you’re probably gonna have to tell me what to do and stuff because I’ve never—”

“It’s okay,” you interject, still as gentle as ever. You know he hates having to remind you, and himself, that he isn’t well-versed in the means of pleasuring you. No one likes asking for guidance, especially not when it comes to the intricacies of sexual pleasures. 

But, as Hawkins’ resident expert on the matter, you know no one gets good at a thing like this without asking for help every now and then.

“I’ll help you, Eds,” you promise in a seductive lilt and with a mischievous grin.

Your hands rise to his flushed cheeks to pull him down for another kiss. This one is much more ardent than his peck had been.

Eddie takes the lead. Not so much with ease, but without any push from you.

Your lips separate with a wet smack, only for his rosy ones to migrate down your jaw. His mouth trails down your neck, tongue darting out to lick you there. His smile curls against your skin when it makes you shiver. 

He moves further downward, copying what you had done the night before. The kisses feel a lot less effective when pressed over your shirt. He kisses the fabric at your sternum where the faded face of Debbie Harry is printed. 

You hold back your laughter when he huffs in frustration.

“Can we— Can I just take this off?” he wonders, impatient and annoyed with the thing, already tugging at its hem.

Your giggle escapes without warning.

Eddie lets you tug the shirt up and over your body without asking to do it for you. You let the fabric fall from your outstretched arm onto the floor beside your bed.

For the first time, you’re totally bare before him.

He’s seen bits and pieces of you, of course. Enough to know what you look like. Enough to think of you when he jerks off in the shower. Eddie’s seen enough of your body to fall in love with it — but to experience its glory in its entirety is much, much different.

“You’re doing it again…” you complain playfully. You feign displeasure when really you just hate feeling like a piece of glass.

“Shh…” Eddie shushes you. His glazed-over eyes don’t stop glossing over your naked body. “Let me look at you…”

You let him.

And he just looks at you. For several agonizing moments, all he does is look at you.

He commits every inch of you to memory. The rise and fall of your breasts with each of your anticipatory breaths. The pudge of your belly that pairs so nicely with the plush of your hips. The way his hands fit perfectly hugging your sides.

He caresses you up and down — from your ribcage to your stomach to your hips. He settles on your thighs and finds himself squeezing you there again, though he isn’t totally sure why. He just doesn’t know what else to do with such a beautiful thing other than to hold tightly onto it.

Eddie leans down again to press a kiss to your newly bare skin, right between your breasts, and you’re not sure why you’re moaning, but you are. There’s something quite tender in the intimacy you’ve been deprived of for so long.

His lips trickle down down down your body like gentle drops of summer rain. He moves with the ease of someone who’s done this before. He’s forgotten to be nervous.

When he gets to your stomach, he leaves another kiss just below your belly button. His heavy breaths fan over your cunt when he ignores it completely and instead decides to pay tender attention to the insides of your thighs. His arms curl around them. It feels like he’s embracing them.

You watch him, a little amused with the whole thing — with this unsure boy between your legs. You don’t even realize you’re smiling. 

One hand snakes into the curls at the crown of his hand, and the other sits contently over his knuckles along your thigh.

“Just kiss my pussy like you’re kissing me now,” you guide gently. The moan he exhales fans against your skin. “Whenever you’re ready, okay? There’s no rush. You’re already doing great, Eds.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he mutters into your inner thigh.

“I can’t compliment you?”

“No, I’m talking about— about your… pussy.”

“What’s wrong with saying pussy?” you giggle.

“What’s wrong with it?” Eddie echoes with wide, inquisitive eyes. His swollen mouth curls into a grin as he laughs alongside you. “It’s gonna make me fucking explode without you even touching me — that’s what’s wrong with it.”

“That’s… really hot, actually,” you admit rather candidly.

Something about Eddie finding his own sort of pleasure in pleasuring you makes you somehow needier for him.

He shakes his head, feeling like he’s being teased again. “Shut up…”

“I mean it,” you assure, then decide to joke. “But I guess I can get, like, anatomical or whatever if it’ll make you feel better.”

Now he knows you’re teasing.

Eddie rolls his eyes at you and turns his attention back to the warmed skin of your inner thigh. “Jesus Christ…” he grouses to himself just before pressing his lips there. He doesn’t know how to be anything but tender with you. Even when you are being a dumbass.

“Oh, Edward— please touch my vagina,” you joke with all the makings of a pornstar plucked from the Victorian age.

“I hate you so much,” the boy laughs despite his delicate kisses on your body.

“Your tongue feels so good on my labia minora—”

Eddie separates from you, then, meeting your playful smile with a much more cynical grin. “Stop talking,” he directs with raised brows and wide eyes, looking like a parent slowly losing patience with an unruly child. “Unless you want me to shut you up myself.”

He doesn’t mean anything by the half-hearted threat. It wasn’t even supported to be dirty — he just sort of said it because he was tired of being the butt of the joke. It’s rare for him to be on the receiving end of any teasing because, most times, he’s too busy dishing it. 

But you go quiet almost immediately. Your smile ebbs as your eyes go big and glassy. Eddie can’t help but feel like he’s just done something horribly wrong. 

His grin fades and a childlike gape of horror floods his features. “Hey, I was just— I was just kidding. I didn’t mean it like… I’m just an idiot, okay? I’m sorry.” 

You don’t mean to laugh, but you do. 

He’s apologizing like he’s just done something irreversible, something awful he’ll never be able to take back. All he really did, though, was turn you on so desperately you had to remind yourself to breathe.

“It’s okay, Eds. It’s okay,” you assure through a burst of horribly suppressed giggles. “I liked it. It just— It surprised me. That’s all.”

“You liked me telling you to shut up?” Eddie wonders with furrowed brows. He’s not judging you, exactly, just confused and a little relieved.

“Not exactly. I just… I like when you’re assertive. You know, dominant?”

“Right,” he nods, but you can tell he still doesn’t quite get it. 

You figure you’ll have ample opportunity to bring his gentle dominance to light. Just not this time. You think if you explained to him now, how he can have his mouth on your pussy and still have all the power, his brain might implode on itself.

“Just kiss me, Eds,” you guide, direct but still soft.

He shifts on the mattress. You can feel him getting ready to rise and lean over you again. Your hand in his hair tightens to stop him.

“Not there,” you hint.

Your smile is kind, yet playful. Sarcastic, yet sensual. Every one of your expressions is so complex. There are a million beautiful and conflicting labyrinthine flitters to your features he could point out to you.

Meanwhile, his face only goes lax with the realization. Dumbfounded and, well, just dumb.

“Oh…”

“Don’t overthink it,” you instruct quickly when you see him retreating to the shell of his mind. “I know it’s hard to, but… I’m gonna like anything you do, okay? I promise.”

Of course, your assurance quells perhaps his biggest problem — the oh shit, what if nothing I do feels good because I don’t know what I’m doing problem. But when he’s finally face-to-face with your glittering cunt, wetter than it had been just moments ago, he’s got no idea where to start.

He wants to touch you all over. He wants to dive in deep with his tongue and make you unravel entirely underneath him. He’s almost sure, though, that no guy’s ever got anywhere from being overzealous. Or worse, overconfident.

So he just kisses you. Like you asked. He presses his lips to the button of your clit in a peck he would otherwise insist upon your mouth.

The pleasure is fleeting. Negligible, at best. It’s a brief flash of distant lightning from your cunt to your spine. Your hips cant towards his mouth anyway, desperate for more of what he’s teasing you with.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open again. He licks his lips and tastes traces of you on them. His half-hard cock stiffens between his body and your mattress, trapped in the most delicious feeling.

“Good?” he asks you.

He knows he hasn’t done much. He just wants to make sure you’re okay with this — with him — or even that you’re just okayat all. He doesn’t want to do anything before he knows you’re comfortable.

You nod. “Good,” you echo, already breathless.

“Can I… Can I do more?”

“You can do whatever you want, Eds.”

And while that isn’t the most helpful in terms of guiding him, it gives him the go-ahead to touch you all over. That’s all he really wanted in the first place.

At a loss of where to start, Eddie begins to mirror what he’s seen in the movies — the rated XXX kind. He licks a flat stripe up the length of your cunt, from its opening to its apex. The irregular pattern of his tongue is much rougher compared to your smooth silk. 

For a guy who has no idea what he’s doing, you seem to like it well enough. You exhale a low moan through an agape mouth, bucking your hips in a desperate attempt to follow his touch.

“You like that?” Eddie wonders. Just to be sure.

Your keen fades to a soft laugh. “Are you gonna ask if I like everything you do before you do it?”

“I just, you know… wanna make sure…”

Make sure I’m doing okay, he thinks to himself. Make sure it feels good for you and that I’m not making a total fool of myself.

“Here’s some advice,” you start, rising on your elbows to see him better. “If a girl’s moaning, that means she likes it. You can totally tell when they’re fake, I promise. Checking in every once in a while is good, but really the best time to ask is when she stops moaning, okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods, features gaping with wonderment. You think if you gave him a pen and paper right now, he’d start taking notes. “Okay.”

“Visual cues are always the best in terms of, you know, making sure someone’s into what you’re doing.”

“Visual… Cues…?” Eddie echoes slowly. Like a total idiot.

“Yeah. Like, if you can feel her getting wetter or if her legs are shaking… Things like that.”

The boy nods to himself. “Right…”

“I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, okay? Or if I want you to do more of something,” you assure. Your fingers scratch gently at the back of his head to seal your promise. “I’m here to help you, yeah? I’m like your… personal sex trainer. I’m gonna turn you into a professional, Eds.”

Instead of telling you that he doesn’t care much about being a professional anything — that he doesn’t need to learn how to make every girl feel good as long as he’s making you feel good — he just scoffs and gets to work again.

Eddie licks at your pussy with languid strokes, focusing mainly on your clit because it makes you moan the loudest for him. He full-on makes out with your cunt like he would your mouth, just like you asked.

It’s passionate and a little sloppy. He uses his tongue to spread you open as though he were prying into your mouth. He sucks your clit between his lips as though he were nipping at the plush cushion of your bottom one. It’s easier that way, to think of eating you out as expressing a sort of tenderness.

Making you feel good is just a bonus.

According to your pithy list, you seem to be enjoying yourself. Getting wetter? Check. Legs shaking? Check. You’re moaning quite a lot, too — breathy, deep, and satiny ones that make him groan against you. 

Both of you are too far gone to notice Eddie’s hips grinding into the mattress. His neglected cock finds a distant relief with every half-hearted pass against the cotton.

Every delicate choice Eddie makes with your pussy is so easily felt.

He was nervous at first. If that fact weren’t already obvious to you, you would’ve known by the unsure kisses to your clit. He was trying to gauge your reaction, figure out what you liked most. Then, when he got more comfortable, so did his mouth. His kisses grew more confident, more languid, more unaware of himself.

Suddenly, and perhaps with the fleeting thought to heighten your pleasure by doing something different, Eddie starts doing more with his tongue. He becomes less confident, less languid, less himself.

He traces a sharp A along your pussy, quickly followed by a rounded B. You clock it immediately because you’ve felt it so many times before. And though it still feels quite nice, you find yourself laughing.

When Eddie feels you softly trembling, his chest swells with pride. He thinks you must be quivering with pleasure. A second later, he realizes you’re laughing. 

His swollen mouth smacks when he pulls away from your pussy, lips glistening with your slick. He gapes at you with horrified honey eyes. “What?” he slurs, slightly drunk on the taste of you.

“Are you doing the ABCs?” you ask him, still giggling.

Eddie falters at having been caught so quickly. “…No.”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book, Munson. Every guy does it. I can tell you’re doing the ABC thing, babe.”

“I, uh… I read it in a magazine,” he confesses with his cheeks glowing red.

“I know,” you hum softly. “It’s okay. It still felt good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I told you I would tell you, so I’m telling you,” you remind with a gentle smile. “Do you still want help?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, more sure now.

“If you want to use your tongue, you can put it where you’d normally put your fin— oh—” Your attempt to guide him ends in a tiny, broken moan when Eddie dives in quicker than you expect him to.

You thought he might take a second to hesitate, to ask if you were still sure like he always does. But, for perhaps the first time with you, he doesn’t think twice. He slips his eager tongue into the satin of you with an obviously unpracticed motion, and you whine pathetically underneath him.

It’s not how easily his tongue slithers into you. 

It’s not how he explores the walls of your cunt like undiscovered territory. 

It’s not even how the tip of his nose nudges your clit in a manner that can only be described as merciless.

What really gets you is the thought that he’s only ever done this with you — that you’re the only girl he’s ever tasted, that your pussy is the first to grace his tongue. The proud, borderline possessive feeling is nearly as gratifying as his mouth.

You can barely talk through Eddie’s attempts to swallow you whole. Every time his nose bumps your clit when he flicks his tongue just so, an electric shock shoots down your spine. You’re slowly forgetting how words work. 

You try to coach him through it anyway.

“Most girls… They, uh— They like when you switch between your tongue and your… your mouth. But I, um… I like this for a while— fuck, Eds.” You throw your head back when he audibly slurps at your drooling pussy. His own moan is muffled against you as your hand tightens in his hair.

It takes a moment or three to catch your breath again.

“But when I get close, like… right before I’m about to come, I usually like when guys— oh— when they suck on my clit—”

And even though you’re not exactly talking dirty to him, your words make Eddie groan against you anyway. The heavy grunt is hummed into your cunt — low and rumbling like thunder that travels the length of your body in the same resounding way.

Eating pussy was easier than Eddie thought it might be.

It had its little intricacies, of course, but it wasn’t too hard once he got the hang of it. Your tip on visual cues helped him more than you realize. It really was all in the optics. 

You clenched around his tongue every time his nose accidentally bumped your clit, so he started to do it more intentionally. When he focused on your sensitive button and pulsating cunt at the same time, your pussy dripped more honey on his tongue. You moaned louder for him too, begged for him outright.

“Eddie, please,” you whined. “Right there, Eddie.” 

“Oh, your tongue feels so good, Eds.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

But just because it was easy didn’t mean it was effortless.

His tongue gets quickly tired from such fervent use. His jaw aches from the constant open-shut motion of the joint. His neck grows sore and stiff from its constant tilted position.

It makes it harder for him to touch you how he wants to — harder to make you feel as good as he needs to. So when your vocal moans turn into quieter whimpers, he parts from your pussy with a loud smack and gives his mouth a break. 

You whine at the loss of him, immediately cold without his mouth covering you. 

You’re crying out again the second he replaces his tongue with his thumb. He presses the pad of it to your clit — not rough, exactly, just eager and firm. 

To be touched so ardently in a place so delicate feels like you’ve been dipped in scalding hot water. And, being that you’re more sensitive there than most tend to be, your body reacts accordingly to the suddenness of his touch. Your hips buck upward, legs closing on instinct. 

Eddie’s in the line of fire for all of it.

“Shit, Eds,” you grimace when your knee smacks his jaw. You rise on one arm and use the other to caress his cheek. Your thumb rubs at the skin there in a futile attempt to soothe the ache. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” the boy answers with an immediate shake of his head. With his eyes still glassy and his tongue still tasting of you, he only wants to put his mouth on you again. Despite the distant throbbing in his jaw, he grins. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He had, of course. The dull feeling is ebbing. Slowly. 

But it’s still okay.

Eddie turns his attention back to your pussy. His arms curl around your thighs again. Now that he’s not busy devouring you, he can see how wet you’ve gotten. 

Honey leaks relentlessly from your pussy. He feels almost undeserving of the amount you give him. It darkens the sheets beneath you and clings to your skin like silk. 

It’s lewd and sinful. Beautiful, still.

“Shit, babe,” Eddie sighs to himself. “You’re fucking— You’re dripping.”

You know you are. You can feel it. It trails slowly from your pulsating cunt to your ass and wets the sheets below you. You’re a little embarrassed, to have made such a mess without even orgasming.

He swears he sees you wince. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t apologize,” Eddie directs with a practiced swiftness. “It’s hot. It’s... really fucking hot, okay? I mean, it’s like… Your pussy’s fucking drooling for me.”

You’re moaning at the vulgarity of his words before he ever puts his mouth on you.

It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to crescendo again. The distant orgasm looms nearer and nearer, like a storm cloud rolling in. You barely have time to realize you’re succumbing to the heavenly feeling before it’s already there.

“I’m about to come, Eds,” you manage to warn, half-slurring and already seeing stars.

Eddie answers with another low moan into your pussy.

He remembers what you told him, slides his mouth from your velvet walls and migrates to your clit. His mouth engulfs the sensitive button. He sucks it between his lips, flicking his tongue along the very peak of it.

And you? You were already long now. Now you feel like you might as well be in outer fucking space.

“Oh my god, Eddie,” you whine pathetically, trapped in the dense haze of immense pleasure. 

You feel all of it and none of it, all at once. Your hips buck forward and backward, trying to chase the feeling and run away from it, too. You don’t realize it, but you’re all but grinding against Eddie’s mouth. 

He can’t do a single damn thing but revel in it.

A distant part of his consciousness registers that his hips are rolling against your mattress. The thought is too far away to make him stop, though. 

What was he supposed to do, anyway — when a pretty girl was making even prettier sounds for him, begging for him to keep making her feel good? It made him so hard it hurt.

Eddie grinds his stiff cock into your bed and tries to relieve the overwhelming pressure you and your lewd noises burden him with. He moans against you without thinking. 

You figure he must be torturing you, using the vibrations as a weapon to make your orgasm that much more forceful. Really though, Eddie’s just coming in his pants for the second time since being with you.

His cock spurts several unforgiving loads into the cotton of his underwear. He buries his pitiful moans and whimpers into your pussy, hips still rocking through his high.

You come right along with him.

Your back arches, unintentionally pushing your cunt further into his mouth. “Fuck, Eddie—” you cry, high and fragile, as you drip more honey for him. Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan that leaves in another feeble whine a moment later.

And Eddie, never having been a man who knows his limits, has no idea when to stop.

He doesn’t particularly want to. He thinks he could probably eat your pussy forever, though the lingering ache in his jaw and neck begs to differ. The way you say his name when you come for him — over and over and over again — would make the pain worth it.

“Eddie—” you gasp for the hundredth or millionth time when his tongue swipes across your clit again. Your hips twitch at the sensitivity. You’re forced to pull him away by his hair. 

You begin to laugh to yourself as your high slowly subsides. The breathy giggle that falls from your lips sounds delirious, almost, as your fuzzy brain comes down from the clouds again.

Eddie, just as incoherent as you, presses sloppy kisses to the insides of your thigh. His heavy eyes flutter open to find you smiling tiredly at the ceiling. “Good?” he wonders through labored breaths.

It’s a “Was that good for you?” as much as a “Are you back now?”

You trap your smile between your teeth as you nod.

Tilting your ear to your shoulder, you peer down the expanse of your body to where the wild-headed boy lies between your legs. His flushed cheek rests along your inner thigh. Your fingers dance through his curls.

“I might just make a professional out of you yet, Eddie Munson.”

A grin tugs slow at the edges of his swollen mouth.

He rises so he’s leaning over you again and doesn’t waste a second to start kissing you — the same way he’d been kissing your cunt moments ago. His rosy lips are still slick with you. You can taste the briny tang of your honey upon them.

Before you have time to acknowledge any of it, though, something sticky presses into your stomach. You blame yourself for it almost immediately. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’ve stained someone’s pants. A second later, you realize it couldn’t have been you. So it must have been Eddie.

The crotch of his pants is wet because he came in them. 

“Eds,” you murmur into his kiss.

“Hm?” he hums and pulls back with furrowed brows.

“Did you… um…” you trail off, trying to find the best way to ask your question without sounding like you’re making fun of him. 

You’ve noticed he tends to get a little self-conscious about these things — conversations that remind him that he’s mature but not at all experienced. You often approach the topic with caution. Likely the same way he does with you and subjects on promiscuity.

Eddie’s face twists further in confusion. It makes you wonder if he even noticed.

The flash of realization on his face is evident. As soon as his come cools and leaves the fabric of his underwear sticking to his skin, his eyes go wide and he jerks away from you. “Shit. Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s fine,” you assure him quickly, chasing him as he sits up again. Your legs curl beneath you as Eddie’s hang over the mattress.

“No, it’s not,” he scoffs out a laugh. “It’s lame.”

You reach for his face and take his cheeks in your gentle hands to make him look at you. You meet his sheepish gaze with a softer smile. “It’s sexy,” you correct. “This isn’t even the first time you’ve done it. It’s not a big deal to me. You know that.”

“Yeah, it was lame then, too.”

Your smile widens as you shake your head at him. 

It wouldn’t matter if you provided him an itemized list of everything he did that you found attractive — sexually or otherwise — he still wouldn’t believe you. He’d just laugh and say you were joking, probably find a way to make fun of you for it like he always does.

“You have a crush on me?” he’d tease. “That’s so gross…”

Rather than press the issue, you leave a chaste peck on his mouth.

“I’m gonna shower,” you say, still holding him. “Then we can go get breakfast or something.”

The smug smirk he gives you isn’t surprising. 

“Ooh,” he hums. “A shower, huh? Sounds fun.”

“Alone.”

“Why?” he wonders with a pout.

“Because we’re adults and not a couple of teenagers. We’ve got better things to do than fuck like rabbits all day.”

You’re serious, for the most part. Even a slut’s got to have her own boundaries. You didn’t get the title by having sex every chance you could — not exactly, anyway. The art was in the chase. You get your prey clouded by lust until it’s all they can do not to fuck you. That’s when you strike.

It’s why you weren’t just a slut. You were the slut.

But still, there was more to your rejection, a deeper meaning to it you keep to your chest like playing cards out of pure embarrassment.

You don’t think you could keep your hands to yourself — not with Eddie’s bare body pressing against yours after bringing you to an orgasm that had you seeing stars with nothing but his mouth. 

And you want so desperately to take things slow, to make all of his firsts special. You want to wait, but he makes it so damn hard.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you repeat and place a barely-there kiss to his lips before you go. You pluck your shirt from the floor and throw it haphazardly over your naked frame. “There’s some tissues on the dresser if you wanna clean up!” you shout from the hallway right before Eddie hears the bathroom door click shut.

You’re gone for twenty minutes. 

The shower was far quicker than the more drawn-out ones you’re privy to, especially when you’ve got a pretty boy over. You don’t see the point in doing the whole routine now, anyway. Eddie had already seen you naked — tasted you, no less. It doesn’t make sense to care about stubbly legs and frizzy hair now.

When you return to the bedroom for fresh clothes, you find the boy lying in the center of your bed. He’s got Bowie on his belly and your basket of cassettes at his side. He slouches against the headboard and flips through them like index cards, occasionally humming to himself when he finds one he particularly likes.

There’s something really special about the sight before you. This beautiful boy with wild hair has made himself comfortable in your bedroom — amid all your pretty decorations and with your less-than-affectionate cat. 

Eddie’s at home in your home. Like he’s always been there. Like he’ll never leave.

“I don’t know if you wanna shower or not, but I might have some t-shirts you can change into,” you tell him absentmindedly as you search through your drawers for something to wear. You rifle through the folded clothes with one hand, using the other to hold your towel to your chest. 

You’re looking for something pretty but casual — something fitting for a day at home that’ll still make Eddie compliment you.

“But I don’t know if I have sweatpants…” you caution. “Or boxers.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s okay. I brought some extra clothes.”

He slips out of bed and tucks Bowie neatly back into the mattress. When he emerges from beneath the covers, you find he’s already changed. He’s still in the same shirt, but he’s wearing different underwear. They’re as baggy and thin as the ones he made a mess in, just a new shade of plaid.

“Oh,” you hum, smirking. “That is very presumptuous of you, sir.”

You hold the tank top and shorts you’d picked to your chest as Eddie walks the short distance to meet you. He rolls his eyes at your insinuation. “Not like that. I’m just… an idiot. And I don’t know how to pack… Also, I was nervous.

“Nervous?” you echo.

“Yeah,” he confesses, shifting his weight on his feet. Nervous, still. He grins to cover it. “First time spending the night alone with a pretty girl… I think that’s something pretty normal to be nervous about.”

You get it. You do. It’s not like you didn’t spend the entirety of your afternoon agonizing over all this the day before. You just hate that Eddie was nervous, too. That you hadn’t made him feel better.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, Eddie,” you promise.

“You don’t make me nervous. I make me nervous,” he corrects. 

Your brows pinch together in confusion.

He explains. “‘Cause I wanna, like… Impress you and everything…”

You smile. Then nod. “You do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Every day,” you answer like it’s obvious. “You always give me something new to like.”

Eddie hopes his face isn’t as red-hot as it feels. 

“What was it today then, huh?” he wonders with a teasing lilt as he takes one step closer to you. His chest rubs against the hands holding your clothes and towel. His fingers settle along your waist. “Or is it too early in the day to ask?”

“Your tongue,” you answer honestly, but with a seductive undertone — just to make him melt.

It works.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You finish getting ready in the bathroom. 

The tank top you chose is simple and white ribbed — an easy four-quarters at the thrift store. The neck of it comes up too high to reveal much of your cleavage, but it clings to you like it was made to do it. 

Your shorts are much of the same. Cheap. A little boring. They’re floral patterned and frilled at the bottoms. If you pull the top of them to your belly button, the edges of your ass threaten to poke out.

You’re feeding Bowie in the kitchen when Eddie returns from the bedroom. He’s dressed for the day in his usual attire — the thrifted concert merch and baggy jean duo. The all-black outfit matches the stormy weather outside. It’s quite the opposite of your brighter garb, though.

You don’t realize he’s there until he’s pressing himself against you, effectively pinning you against the counter. His arms wrap around your waist, embracing you almost, as he tucks his face into your shoulder.

“You look pretty,” he mumbles into your skin.

You giggle as you fork cat food into Bowie’s bowl. “You’re so cuddly today.”

Eddie grins against your neck. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not! I just had to chase you all night because you refused to snuggle.”

Your use of the word snuggle makes him scoff. He parts from you and leans his hip against the counter beside you. “Sorry for the worst sleeper known to man. Sue me.”

You slide the calico her food and set the fork down with it as you turn to face the boy. You instantly notice he looks different from before but can’t quite gauge why. More of his face is visible than usual — the edges of his rosy cheeks and the pale points of his jaw.

It takes you several embarrassing moments to realize his hair is tied up.

He’s done a rather haphazard job of it. Several strands have been left out of the knot at the back of his head. It’s not entirely pulled through the tie either, so it’s in this vaguely shaped messy bun. You figure it was more to get his curls out of his face than anything remotely stylistic.

“…What?” he murmurs at your silent stare, head jutting slightly backward. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Sorry,” you apologize and shake your head out of its stupor. Your squeezed-shut eyes open again and twinkle when you smile. “It’s just… Your hair…”

Eddie hadn’t expected you to notice. He does it so often he forgets how different it makes him look. 

Long curly hair was totally metal, but it was annoying. He usually keeps a hair tie in his bedroom for when it’s particularly bothersome. Being that he was without one now, he thought the pale pink scrunchie on your dresser would do the trick.

His pale hand instinctually darts to his head. He scratches at his hair, loosening the already slacked strands. “Yeah, I, uh… I used one of your hair ties,” he admits, embarrassed but unsure why. “I hope that’s… okay?”

“Of course, it’s okay,” you tell him, laughing. “I’ve just never seen you with your hair pulled back. It’s cute.”

It takes everything in him not to crumble when your hand rises to his face and combs through his hair. Your gentle fingers tuck a few ornery strands behind his ear, then rest on his jaw.

You’ve got a vague hint of a smile on your lips, one of wonderment almost, like you can’t believe he’s real. You look at him like he’s some beautiful thing you can’t believe managed to get more beautiful.

He loves it so much that he hates it. He needs it so much that he can’t help but shy away from it.

“Well, I’m nothing if not adorable,” he jests with a sheepish grin and tilts his reddened cheek towards his shoulder.

“Damn right…”

Eddie’s too slow in his shyness to meet you halfway like he typically would. It leaves you doing most of the work — standing taller to reach his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck to press more wholly against him. You smack a single kiss to his mouth and pull back to admire him with a smile.

His hands settle on your waist, at the very apex of your hips, where they always seem to gravitate. He kisses you this time in a longer, languid, more drawn-out thing. The constant locking and separating pattern of your lips persists through the sounds of rolling thunder and a cat lapping rather dramatically at her food.

Even as someone knocks at your door with several sharp raps, you’re less than enthusiastic to part from him.

Eddie separates from you when he realizes you aren’t planning to. “Do you wanna get that?” he asks, figuring you must not have heard it over the rain or the feeling of him.

“No. It’s probably nothing. They’ll leave,” you assure him quickly, desperate to feel him again.

Eddie, similarly longing, only nods. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans down to kiss you again.

The knocking returns. Louder now. A female voice accompanies it. “I don’t know if you’re asleep in there or something, but it’s fucking pouring out here! So if you could let me in, that’d be great!”

You part from Eddie suddenly, a tad bit aggressively, and without thinking twice.

It’s like a switch has been flipped within you, from indifference to immediate concern. You hear Eddie start a question — a trailed of “who’s…?” — but you’re out of the kitchen before he can finish it. You’re at the front door in a few quick strides, swinging it open before you realize you’re doing it. 

It’s like muscle memory, almost. To come when you hear that voice calling.

Seeing Max Mayfield on your doorstep isn’t the most surprising thing in the world. It’s pretty expected, actually, but seeing her now — in the pouring rain, with nothing but her skateboard? You’d be a little impressed if you weren’t so shocked.

“What are you doing here?” you ask her, practically screeching, as she shoves past you and into your apartment. Her soaking wet Converse stomp into the living room. You can almost hear the subtle squelch of the damp soles.

“If I stayed on Cherry Lane for one more second, I was gonna go insane,” she spits as she toes off her sneakers.

“Did you… Did you skateboard all the way here?”

“Well, it’s not like I have a car, so…” she answers without really answering, flashing you an equally sardonic smile.

Amber strands hang from her two braids and cling to her freckled forehead. She tugs off the yellow raincoat that didn’t seem to do much of anything. Her t-shirt and jeans are drenched in splotches and sticking to her skin.

“It’s pouring outside, Max! That’s dangerous!”

“I didn’t die, so I’d say it’s fine.”

You sigh to yourself — a deep exhale that deflates your chest.

Max Mayfield is a spitfire. Everyone knows that. Sarcasm is quite literally her love language. When she’s mean to you, it’s because she likes you. She only gets really snappy like this on occasion.

Derision becomes her shield. Being hurtful is the only way she knows to keep people at arm’s length. So, when something’s really wrong, and she’s at your front door in the pouring rain, it’s easier for her to be closefisted than actually ask for help.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs.

You send her a knowing look. A no one skateboards halfway across town in the rain for nothing kind of look.

“It’s just my brother,” she caves in a huff. “It’s always my brother. I don’t even know why you bother asking at this point.”

Your fists clench at your sides. “What’d he do now?” 

“It’s my stepdad, mostly. They just… fight. Like, all the time— a lot more than they used to, and you know how bad they used to,” Max explains, halfway rambling, as she paces with socked feet along your living room carpet. She gesticulates wildly as she continues. “I don’t even know what they’re arguing over now. I’m not even sure they know, but my mom refuses to do anything about it, and I’m pretty sure Billy would kill me if I tried to, so…”

The girl trails off with a shrug and stops pacing to face you again. The nails on her left hand pick at the skin of the pointer finger on her right. 

Your concerned gaze makes her cower.

“I just can’t stand the yelling, and my walkman only turns up so loud, you know?”

“Color?” you ask her.

To Eddie, who’s hearing all this from the kitchen, it sounds quite vague. Almost purposefully vague. He’s got no idea what it’s supposed to mean, but Max answers so suddenly it’s clear to him that both of you know.

“Before I left? Orange. But... if Billy didn’t leave before I did… red,” the girl agonizes with ocean eyes wide in apprehension. “Like, bright red. Fucking blood red— whatever the darkest shade of red is, it’s that one.”

Eddie decides to make himself known then. He leans against the doorway that connects the kitchen and the living room. “Crimson?” he offers, then corrects himself. “Or, no, maybe scarlet… I don’t know the difference between them, actually.”

Max falls eerily silent. Her head darts over her shoulder at the sound of the familiar voice. She’s less surprised to find someone else in the apartment than she is to know that, out of anyone in the world it could have been, it’s Eddie fucking Munson.

She turns back to you, pale face and auburn brows contorted in confusion. She jerks her thumb in the boy’s direction. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“He stayed the night,” you shrug.

“You let Lucas’ weird new friend spend the night?”

“Wow, Red,” Eddie laughs behind her. “I thought we’d be on a first-name basis by now.”

You shift your weight on your feet and try to swallow down any lingering nerves. You know you shouldn’t be this concerned about losing cool points to a fourteen-year-old, but Max is different. Max is cool. Way cooler than you are.

“Well, we’re dating, so…”

“You’re dating Lucas’ weird new friend now?” she gapes.

“His name is Eddie, Maxine,” you argue, full-naming her because you know how much she hates it. You walk past the girl dripping all over your carpet and head towards the hallway for a towel and fresh clothes. “And he’s standing right there, so you could be a little nicer.”

“Yeah, I’m sensitive, Maxine,” Eddie teases. He brings a hand to his chest to feign offense as he inches toward her. “Wait to talk shit about me when I’m out of earshot, yeah?”

Max squints at him. “Well, this is my safe space, Lucas’ weird new friend, so don’t hog it, alright?”

“Funny you say that because I’m pretty sure only one of us was invited here,” Eddie retorts.

You emerge from the hallway then with a towel and spare clothes. 

“And none of you pay rent, which makes it even funnier,” you quip to quell the petty banter and hand Max the fresh linens. “Here. Get changed. Take a shower if you want. Me and Eddie were about to get breakfast.”

The redhead falters at the act of kindness. She still isn’t quite used to it — the way you help her without thinking twice. It’s not the first time it’s happened, and she knows it won’t be the last. But still, it’s hard to accept.

“Thanks,” she wavers and tries her best to smile. It looks more like a wince than anything else.

She slinks off down the hall. You hear Bowie’s paws hit the floor in a muffled thud as she hops off the counter to follow her.

Eddie waits until he hears the bathroom door click shut to turn to you, more serious than he had been before. “Um, so… What was that, exactly?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “She just stops by sometimes when her brother is bothering her.”

He nods though he’s still sort of confused. He crosses his arms over his chest and furrows his brows. “And the colors…?”

“It’s easier for her to describe the fights by what color they felt like. Blue is the sad fights, green is the stupid fights, orange is right before they get bad, and red is when they do get bad,”  you explain, then huff. “Black is… the worst one. They’re the fights you don’t come back from.”

You’ve only seen one code black before. That night at Steve’s — that one was black. The night progressed, and it only got darker. It became a shade that swallowed all the colors surrounding it — a black hole.

Black is the kind of fights that change you. The fights that stick with you forever. The fights you can’t forgive and can’t forget.

“Oh. Shit,” Eddie mutters to himself. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, eyes flitting between you and the empty hallway. He doesn’t know what to say, what to do. He wants to comfort you — the both of you — but he’s got no idea how. “Should I… Should I, like, go?”

You want to tell him no. 

You want to tell him that you need him there, that you don’t want him to be far away again, that he might actually help. But you know Max. She puts up a wall with you, and you’ve known her for years. There’s no way she’ll talk to you with Lucas’ weird new friend around.

“If you wanna go get breakfast or something, that’d be really cool,” you answer sheepishly, scrunched face like you’re scared you might hurt his feelings. You inch closer to him, arms wrapped around yourself, as you explain. “I wanna get her to talk and everything, and… she might not if you’re around… ‘M sorry.”

Your shy gaze is met with a grin. He shrugs. “Hey. It’s okay. I can take my van and get us something to eat. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Like Max, you try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Eds.”

You kiss him before he leaves. A brief peck to his cheek that doesn’t even mean anything. Your lips brush his lower jaw so softly that he barely feels it, but it takes him by surprise anyway. Not because you’re kissing him, exactly, but because it’s so strangely domestic.

Eddie’s pretty sure no one’s kissed him goodbye since he was five. 

It’s the little things — those mundane, innocent, and slightly stupid things — that he never missed because he’d gone without them for so long. But you’re reminding him now what it means to be cared for, telling him in your way that he’ll never have to be without them again.

His fingertips are buzzing when he leaves your apartment. 

He’s certain he’ll get struck by lightning before he gets back.

Eddie stays gone for thirty minutes, and you spend that entire time trying to get Max to talk. It’s a more difficult feat than you initially thought. She’s got a sarcastic remark for each of your questions.

“It’s not just nothing, Max!”

“It’s no different than code green!” she argues, sitting below you on the couch in one of your oversized tees. “I just don’t wanna listen to them argue. It’s not like I’m… scared. Or whatever.”

“It’s okay if you are scared, though. You know that, right?”

“Well, I just said I’m not, so…”

One stern look from you, and she breaks.

“I’m always scared, okay?” she bursts. “Even when they’re just talking, I’m fucking terrified because I’m waiting for everything to blow up again. And I— I fucking hate living like that, so I left. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The only thing you know to do is ask her if she wants to get Hopper involved. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s talked to her stepdad, least of all Billy.

Her answer is a balanced and very nuanced — “Fuck no.”

She’s only comforted by your offer to let her spend a few nights at your place and an invitation to your yearly spring break trip to Lake Lemon — only on the condition that her mom is alright with it. 

You know it’ll bite you in the ass eventually. The vacation was just supposed to be you, Robin, and Steve, after all. You figure they’ll understand why you inevitably had to invite Max and all her high school friends when you tell them your hands were tied. Besides, Steve Harrington was the best babysitter around. He could watch over a few teenagers for a weekend.

When Eddie returns, he comes with a paper sack of biscuits and a “Honey, I’m home!”

Bowie is the only one not rolling her eyes at the cliche announcement.

“I didn’t know what you guys wanted, so I just got, like… everything,” the boy explains while the two of you dig ravenously into the bag.

You’re a lot less glum than when he left. Especially Max. She’s smiling now — cracking jokes about Eddie’s wet hair and how it makes him look more like a poodle than usual— in between feeding Bowie spare sandwich crumbs. 

She even thanks him, a week and monotoned expression of gratitude, more spurred on by a look from you than anything else.

“Thanks, Lucas’ weird new friend…”

He’ll take it. He’s just happy the storm’s clearing up.

“No problem, Red. Glad I could be of service.”

He means it in the most literal sense.

Eddie’s happy to have helped in some way, even if it doesn’t feel like much. You and this strange redheaded girl are getting full on food he bought specifically for the both of you, and something about that thought is very distinctly warming. You laugh over two dollar sausage-egg-and-cheese biscuits, talking so loudly it makes it almost impossible for him to get a word in edgewise, but he doesn’t even care.

The clumsy boy who can never seem to do anything right is just happy that he’s finally done some good.

It is a bit weird, though — having to share you. He watches you give all your attention to Max, and a childlike sort of misplaced jealousy simmers within him.

Like usual, you’re totally selfless. You let Max choose the movie and the food you eat with it later that evening. Instead of the typical Star Wars trilogy Eddie often picks, you end up watching Karate Kid. He’s forced to go without his usual hot-sauce-chocolate-syrup-popcorn concoction because Max insists on making nachos.

They’re good. They’re great, even. But Eddie’s too busy sulking to enjoy them because you’re sharing a blanket with Max instead of him. You sit on the couch together while he’s banished to the recliner across the room. 

Bowie’s good enough company, but she’s certainly no replacement for you.

Eddie doesn’t get you to himself until the movie’s over.

You make a semi-comfortable bed for Max on the couch, complete with all the spare pillows and blankets you could find. You tuck her in like a parent would their child — just to hear her laugh as she swats you away — then make Bowie promise to watch over her for the night. You don’t come to bed until you’ve checked on them both five separate times.

Eddie makes no complaint when you finally settle in next to him. 

There is no half-joke or sarcastic quip waiting for you — just a warm arm he wraps intently around your middle to pull you closer to his chest.

Because he gets it, why you dropped everything to help Max. He would’ve done the same for Dustin. He has done the same for Dustin. And with the way you so effortlessly take care of him every other day of the week, Eddie can’t blame you for doing the same for someone else. 

He’d be an idiot to be angry at how kind you are.

He’s just grateful to have you now — grateful to have you at all — even if it is only to sleep.

The both of you have just finally dozed on when your phone starts to ring. The repeated chime sounds so much louder in the quiet. It’s suffocating, almost, in the darkness of your bedroom.

Eddie stirs first. He finds himself on the other side of your bed, turned away from you entirely, and with the covers to himself. 

You don’t seem to mind too much, too sleepy to care. You’re on your belly, face smushed into the pillow, with one leg hiked. Your sleep shirt has risen up your spine to reveal the black cotton panties you wear underneath. 

You groan at the intrusion on your slumber.

“Who is it?” Eddie groans, slurred with sleep.

“Robin,” you grumble as you flip to your other side.

He doesn’t ask how you know that.

Your heavy eyelids flutter shut, totally against your will, forcing you to reach blindly for the ringing phone. When your fingers finally wrap around the plastic, you bring it to your ear. The curled wire is cool against your chin.

“What?” you slur into the receiver.

“Well, it’s good to hear your voice, too,” Robin quips on the other line. She sounds too chipper for so late into the night.

“Why are you calling me? It’s almost midnight.”

“I’ve been waiting to call you forever, but Keith wouldn’t quit hogging the phone!” She sounds like she’s shouting that last bit over at the man himself. She turns to the phone again, quieter this time. “I don’t even know who he was calling. It’s not like he has any friends.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re still at work?”

“Yep. Inventory. Graveyard shift. We’re getting overtime, but it’s totally not worth it.”

“So you called ‘cause you were bored?”

“No,” she insists in a scoff. “Well, I am, but I thought I should tell you that Billy came by before closing.”

That wakes you up immediately.

The name in itself is an adrenaline rush. 

Suddenly, you’re wide awake and your heart’s beating like you’ve just run a marathon.

“He what?”

“Yeah. I mean, he was just asking for Max — said she ran away or something. He’s probably making the rounds looking for her, but… He asked about you…”

“What do you mean?” you ask and try not to sound too panicked.

“I don’t know if he thought she was with you or if you might’ve been in the back— I don’t know,” Robin rambles, voice distant like she’s multitasking between talking and working. “He wanted to know where you were.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you were out of the country.”

Despite your alarm, her answer makes you laugh. Robin was always good at that. Making jokes to distract people from their problems was her specialty. It takes you a moment to realize she isn’t laughing with you, though, and you wonder if it was a joke at all.

“Wait, seriously?”

“I didn’t know what else to say!” she defends half-heartedly. “I was just scared he might’ve come by your place.”

“Well, he hasn’t… Not that I know of.”

The thought of Billy Hargrove often looms over you. He was like your own personal storm cloud. Even with the real storm long gone, you hear thunder roll over your head and rumble down your spine.

“Maybe he just gave up,” Robin lilts optimistically.

You know Billy doesn’t know how to, though. For him, it’s win or die trying.

“Maybe…” you waver anyway. “Is Steve there?”

“Yeah— say ‘hi’ Steve!” After a second or more of silence, you hear the boy himself groan a distant and obviously exhausted greeting in return. Robin’s voice follows. “Sorry. He’s grumpy.”

“Why?” you laugh.

“He sorta told Billy off when he came by. Keith got pissed,” she summarizes, the mocks her manager’s monotoned drawl. “‘You’re not allowed to talk to customers that way, Harrington. Even if they are raging douchebags.’”

You smile to yourself. There’s something warming about Steve defending you even when you’re not around to see it. He’s sticking to his word without needing to be rewarded for it.

“Tell him I think he’s very brave,” you joke.

“She wants you to know that she thinks you’re very brave, Stevie,” Robin tells him.

Steve grumbles a faraway thanks.

“Are you guys working tomorrow?

“Yep,” Robin answers, popping the p. Her words are dripping with venom. “Morning shift. Nine o’clock sharp.”

“Maybe I can come by then,” you offer.

“Get your personal P.I to keep tabs on Billy in the meantime. You know, just in case.”

“You say that like he’s a serial killer.”

“You never know! He could be our very own Ted Bundy.”

“—Also, Hopper is not my personal P.I.,” you laugh when her words finally dawn on you.

“He totally is, but… whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes with a distant smile on your face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rob.”

“Sweet dreams… Since I’m not getting any tonight, apparently,” she speaks too sweetly into the receiver. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you most!”

You sit the phone back on the hook. It takes a few tries because you’re still sort of sleepy and less than coordinated. The quiet room fills with the rattled sounds of your repeated failures. You succeed on the fourth try.

You turn back around and find Eddie awake, too. His curls are wild — umber strands dancing in a halo on his head and on the pillow. His eyes are a darker chocolate from sleep, honeyed and heavy. 

His brows pinch together. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” you answer, more focused on getting comfortable again. “It’s just… girl troubles.”

“You people are full of that these days,” Eddie scoffs through his exhaustion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone’s having girl troubles,” he elaborates. “Robin, Dustin, Mike, Lucas. Probably Steve, too, because he’s Steve.”

“Lucas?” you echo, distantly concerned because his girl troubles aren’t just girl troubles — they’re Max troubles. “What’s going on with Lucas?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head against the pillow. “I don’t know. Something with Max, I guess. He won’t talk about it.”

“How do you know Max?” you change the subject with a soft smile. “Where’d the nickname come from?”

“I don’t really know her. She just hung around with Lucas a lot. For a while, I think I really was his weird new friend to her. Like, after the first couple days of school, those kids were practically glued to me, you know?” he explains with a reminiscent grin. “I think they just liked having someone older too… I don’t know… Protect them, I guess?”

“That’s sweet,” you gush — tired and in love.

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah. I’m a real hero, sweetheart.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m… I’m not a hero,” he rejects quietly, with a quieter smile. “In D&D, you know, maybe. But in real life? I’m a total coward.”

You shift closer to him until you’re sharing the same pillow. When you settle again, your noses are nearly brushing and your breaths are intermingling. You lift your hand from the blankets and rest it on his cheek, smoothing your thumb over the apple of it.

“Well, it takes a lot of bravery to admit to cowardice,” you counter in a lilt.

“I guess so…”

“And I think if it really came down to it, and you really had to fight for something, you could do it,” you tell him with a sparkle in your drowsy gaze. Your eyes flit between the both of his deep outer space ones. “Even if you were scared.”

You believe it, even if he can’t. You know Eddie could be brave in the face of something frightening, as much as you know that you couldn’t be. It’s why you’ve still got this black and ponderous storm cloud hanging over you. Since you can’t do it — be brave — you hope Eddie could be that for you instead.

“You’ve got a lot of faith in me, sweetheart,” Eddie quips and tries to swallow down the emotion swelling in his chest like so many rays of sunshine.

“Yeah, Eddie Spaghetti,” you nod in the place of any joke you could’ve responded with. “I do.”

[diazsdimples]

Buddie "wish I could carry you in my pocket"

"Wish I could carry you around in my pocket," Buck sighs as he gazes lovingly at Eddie sitting on the kitchen table. He's just a little too short for his legs to touch the ground, so he's got his ankles hooked together as he swings his legs back and forth. That, plus the oversized hoodie he's wearing have the effect of making him look like an overgrown toddler and Buck thinks he is simply adorable.

The minute the words leave his lips, Buck has an idea. A year or so ago, Buck had been messing around with one of Maddie's old spellbooks when he'd come across a Shrinking Spell. Thinking it would be useful if he ever needed to pull someone out of a mound of rubble or remove a crush, Buck had learned the spell, accidentally shrinking Maddie's laptop before figured out the reversing spell and had put it to right.

"Hmm?" Eddie says, lifting his eyes ever so slightly from the cookbook he's studying. "What was that, baby?"

Buck rolls up his sleeves and flexes his fingers a little. "Oh nothing, don't mind me." He clicks his fingers and looks pleased as a small shower of blue sparks rain onto the hardwood floors. There's a very faint smell of sea salt, but hopefully not enough for Eddie to notice. "Hold still."

"Wha-?"

Eddie barely has a moment to register Buck's words before Buck does a series of complicated wiggles with his fingers, mutters "Parvus" under his breath, and Eddie is suddenly shrouded in a cloud of royal blue energy. The room is suddenly filled with the scent of the ocean, as if Buck has suddenly stepped out onto Santa Monica beach.

When the cloud clears Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and Buck's heart is instantly in his throat.

"Eddie?" he calls out, walking towards the table where his boyfriend had been perched moments earlier. "Eddie are you still here?"

I've fucking disappeared my boyfriend, Buck thinks in a moment's panic. He hadn't read anything in the fine print about performing the spell on performing it on human subjects, and he's also not sure how to control the size of the thing he's transforming. There is a very real possibility that he's shrunk Eddie to the size of a dust mite and will never be able to resize him again.

Why the fuck can't he use his brain before acting??

Just before Buck plummets into a proper panic attack, there's a small movement on the table, just behind the cookbook resting on the edge.

"Buck, what the fuck have you done to me?"

The voice is high pitched and quiet but unmistakably Eddie's, and it takes Buck a second to locate it. But there, dusting himself off and looking decidedly unimpressed, is the smallest Eddie Buck has ever seen in his life. He's about the size of Buck's forefinger and leans against the pages of the cookbook as he glares up at his boyfriend.

"Oh my god, you are so tiny!" Buck grins as he takes in Eddie in all his miniscule glory. "I can't believe that worked!"

Buck reaches out and picks Eddie up, his fingers pinching at the back of Eddie's hoodie, and he drops his boyfriend into the palm of his hand. Eddie wobbles unsteadily before gingerly lowering himself down so he's sitting on the edge of Buck's palm with his legs dangling over the edge, no dissimilar to how he was on the table. He crosses his arms across his chest and glares up at Buck. If he wasn't all of 3 inches tall, it would almost be intimidating

"Put me back," he demands, the authoritativeness of his tone lost entirely by the fact that he sounds like he's swallowed a tank of helium. "Put me back or so help me God-"

"Or what?" Buck giggles, "You'll crawl up my nose?"

"I'll squeeze inside your dickhole and cause permanent damage with my teeth and fists," Eddie counters with a huff.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, babe."

"Buck please, we've got a shift in 3 hours. Make me big again," Eddie pleads, and Buck's completely incapable of defying his boyfriend at the best of times, especially when he's perched perfectly in the palm of Buck's hands, looking so tiny and adorable and pleading silently with his big brown eyes.

Buck sighs and holds his palm adjacent to the table so Eddie can walk across it and take up position next to the cookbook.

"Can I at least try fitting you in my pocket?" he asks, giving Eddie his puppy eyes, but it seems Shrunk Eddie is immune to Buck's charms. He shakes his head vehemently, snapping his fingers so a ball of deep green energy appears in the palm of his hands. The mellow, woodsy scent of pine trees cuts through the saltiness of Buck's magic as Eddie juggles the energy ball between his hands.

"Try it, I dare you."

Knowing when he's beaten, Buck relents with a sigh. Buck may be the one that practices magic the most but Eddie comes from a long line of powerful sorcerers, and Buck has no trouble admitting that Eddie is the more skilled magician of the two of them. If Eddie wanted to, he could turn Buck into a cockroach in a matter of seconds.

"Magnus" he mutters, channelling a fraction of his energy towards Eddie, and there's another cloud of rich blue energy and Eddie reappears.

He shakes out his arms and hops off the table. "You have no idea how weird that was," he grimaces. "You looked like a giant!"

"Don't I always?" Buck teases, referencing his slight height advantage against Eddie which was a slight sore point in their relationship.

Eddie takes two steps forward so they're nose to nose, and is about to open his mouth to scold Buck before a look of surprise passes over his face.

"Huh!" he says, stepping back so he's able to look at Buck properly. A grin begins to spread over his face as he looks Buck up and down. "I think that spell made me taller!"

Buck balks. "Absolutely not, that's not possible," he says, shaking his head. "I'm the tall one!"

Eddie steps back into Buck's space and yep, he's definitely grown an inch or two. They're almost completely at eye level, with Eddie a fraction taller, if anything. Buck gulps. Maybe he shouldn't have played around with magic.

"No, baby, you're definitely shorter than me no," he grins, and he tilts Buck's chin up (up!!!) to kiss him. It's soft and sweet, their lips moving in tandem. Eddie's smiling into the kiss and Buck can feel the smugness radiating off him.

"I'll just have to shrink you again," he points out as they break apart, but Eddie merely grins and kisses Buck on the forehead.

"I'd like to see you try."

Send me a ship and a sentence and I'll finish it!!

[strawberryspence]

Eddie Munson first falls in love with the water at the age of seven. On his seventh birthday, his Mom and Dad drives him to California. It was one of the few times he remembers being happy with his family. His father stole an RV, just for them. His mother wasn’t really happy with it, but had to let it go when Eddie lights up at the news of a road trip to California. He remembers seeing the beach, the feeling of the sand on his feet, the blueness of the Pacific Ocean and the warmth of the water against his skin. In his room, one of the few items he packed when finally ran away from home, is a small seashell. It’s small enough to hold with your fingertips. On bad days, Eddie holds it near his ear and tries to hear the soft whisper of the ocean.

Eddie Munson is thirteen when he starts hiding behind the bleachers to watch a boy swim. He knows he’s gay, has known since the age of nine that he doesn’t feel what the other boys feel for girls. Eddie finds the swimming stands by accident, he just wanted to find a smoking spot when he finds a screaming crowd. It’s nothing like the ocean, no sound of waves crashing against the shore, the blueness only reflects with the light. A boy swims, he swims like he was born to be in the water. When he comes out of the water, he shines against the sun, golden hair wet and smile bright. Eddie falls in love. Eddie Munson’s first love is the ocean, second is Steve Harrington.

Eddie Munson is seventeen when he learns how the water can be used as a cruelty. Wayne drives the both of them to help look for this boy, just a small boy, lost in the woods. Wayne tells him that if he sees a mother, looking for her son, don’t look away, don’t glare, don’t give her pitiful looks. Give her a gentle smile, a helping hand. They trek the woods, a few times for the next few days. Eddie will never forget that day, Wayne was driving them back to the trailer when they see flashing red and blue lights just below the quarry. They both stop, looking over the edge of the man-made water, watching as Chief Hopper pull Will Byers’ body out of the water. Only then did Eddie realized how dark and menacing the water could be at night.

Eddie Munson is twenty when he starts hating the water. He’s in a boat, again, after having the worst three days of his life. Steve Harrington is more grown now, Eddie’s not entirely in love with him anymore, not when he spent a few years in high school with a group that bullied Eddie. But he doesn’t deny the way his heart beats out of his chest when Steve dives into the water, because he was born to do so, always meant to be in the water. He doesn’t know why Robin and Nancy are scared, Steve can do this, he belongs in the water. He watches as Steve lunges, breaks the barrier, and a split second of relief before Steve gets dragged down. Eddie follows the girls down the water. It’s cold and dark and it pulls him into the mouth of hell.

Eddie Munson is twenty-one and he hasn’t been in the water in almost a year. He knows, the golden boy with the the heart of gold, the boy he knew who was born to be in the water, hasn’t been in a pool just as long. Eddie understands, after the night at Lover’s Lake and after learning that Barb died in the pool. He watches the kids, splashing water around and playing games. He finds Will, laughing and smiling as he floats in the water and Eddie forces himself to remember this moment and not his fake body floating around the Quarry. Steve’s fixing the snacks with Nancy and Robin’s reading a book beside him, her head on his shoulders.

The kids have been bugging him to get in the pool, but Eddie has been dodging their requests for almost a year now. It’s suspiciously quiet for a moment and before Eddie can understand what’s happening the girls are counting down as the boys hold him by the shoulder and by the feet and throw him in the water. He hears a stream of screaming before the water hits his ears, and it swallows him whole. It’s nothing like the soft and warm embrace of the ocean. It’s cold and dark and suddenly it’s pulling him back into the mouth of hell. He wants to swim up, he needs to swim up, but he sees the vines pulling him and tries to fight it, trash against it. It doesn’t budge, so he let’s himself be pulled in.

Steve Harrington hasn’t been in the water in 11 months, 24 days, and 8 hours. But at that moment, every thought and fear in his body vanishes when he sees Eddie sinking into the pool, fighting the water before letting it swallow him whole. Steve dives so fast, he forgets how much he’s hated the coldness of the pool. But Eddie’s down there, and no place with Eddie in it will ever be dark. Eddie’s eyes are closed, as he scoops him in his arms, swimming back to the surface and immediately laying him down on the poolside.

“Move!” Steve shouts, and the kids are so surprised that they pave a way for him, they’ve never seen Steve this mad at them. He gives Eddie CPR and suddenly, he’s back in the Upside Down. His hands are red with blood, Dustin’s begging him to help Eddie, Robin’s cradling Dustin as Nancy tries to stop the bleeding. He does the same prayer as he pumps at Eddie’s chest, please let him live please let him live please let hi— Eddie coughs water. The kids collectively sigh as Robin and Nancy both wrap them in towels. But in the chaos, Steve just cries, trying to remember how to breathe again because they’re in his backyard, not in the Upside Down. Eddie’s okay. Eddie’s okay. He’s not bleeding and in the cusp of dying.

“Oh, love. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay.” Eddie holds him, wincing at the pain in his chest, but still holds him in his arms. Eddie glares at the kids, looking up to Robin and Nancy to gesture for them to go in the house and leave them. When it’s finally just them, Eddie pulls away, wiping at Steve’s cheeks and cupping his jaw. Eddie preens at the fact that Steve doesn’t pull away.

“Hey, you good?” Steve laughs at the question, “I should be asking you that.” Eddie chuckles at the sound of his laugh.

“I am okay. I’ll live. How about you? You haven’t swam in a while and you gave me another CPR. I am sorry.” Steve shakes his head.

“Don’t say sorry. I’ll do it all again for you.”

Eddie does what he’s always wanted do since the age of thirteen. He kisses Steve for the first time, and it’s like falling in love with the water all over again. He remembers the light, the blue, the warmth. It's like being seven again and wiggling his toes in the sand for the first time.

Eddie Munson is twenty-seven when he gets married. Not legally, but married in the eyes of their family. Steve’s laughing with the kids as they play chicken, the water splashing around. Eddie lets himself enjoy the sand beneath his feet, the sound of the water crashing against the shore, the sounds of Robin and Argyle arguing about the snacks and the kids laughing.

“Eds!” Eddie looks up from his book.

Steve is calling him from the water, golden hair wet and smile bright, “Come in the water! It’s warm!”

Eddie smiles back at him, slipping a bookmark between the pages before running to Steve’s arms, making both of them fall into the water. There’s no fear, not when he’s in the arms of his husband, the boy who was born to be in the water. It’s warm and soft and it’s home.

Eddie will always come back to the water, always waiting for it, always watching it, will always love it.

Because Eddie Munson is the shore, and Steve Harrington is the ocean.

"Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the [shore] refuses to stop kissing the [ocean] no matter how many times it [had went] away." — Sarah Kay

[loveshotzz]

Eddie Munson

18+

|One Shots|

Love Bites

Eddie hooks you up with an eighth after showing up to his place strapped for cash.

Closer

AU 1994: You have been playing this game of cat and mouse with the Corroded Coffin front man Eddie Munson for a few weeks now when his band would wander into the club after playing a show. Neither one of you willing to admit defeat and make the first move. You refuse to lose. Not to a rockstar.

Safe Space

You and Eddie share the same nightly routine but when he can tell you need an escape he offers up what makes him feel better.

Saturday Night’s Main Event

Saturday nights were always reserved for you and Eddie. Sharing his love for WWF he won’t let you watch Saturday Nights Main Event with anyone else.

Strangertober: Pumpkin

Carving pumpkins and watching Halloween, Eddie learns you have a new kink.

Strange Love

You and Eddie seem to hate each other, so why can’t you keep your hands to yourself?

Walls Could Talk

You warned Eddie what would happen if he was late picking you up because of Chrissy again.

Lilith 01

you won’t let Eddie get too close.

My Favorite Customer

You’ve been buying weed from your new dealer for a few months now. Always leaving it in your mailbox while you’re at work, you two never cross paths until one Friday night when you come home early.

I Was Made For Loving You

Eddie’s in love with you and can’t keep his hands to himself.

Rude Boy

fuckboy!eddie

Alone in a basement at Reefer Rick’s party, you finally catch Eddie’s attention.

Whatta Man - Eddie’s Night

After being stood up by a blind date at The Foxy Lounge, the cute bartender you’ve been ‘trying’ not to flirt with all night keeps you company.

|Series|

Burn One - completed - 5/5

When you move to Hawkins to start over, your new unexpected friendship with your weed dealer next door is your saving grace. It was never your intention to fall in love with him though.

New Years Eve - completed -4/4

You and Steve find comfort in each other trying to mend your broken hearts. Crossing the line at Steve’s New Years Eve party feelings start to get involved.

There’s a place for me - 1/?

On the run for wrongful murder charges, Eddie finds himself stopping in a sleepy ocean side town far enough from Hawkins where he can lay low for awhile. Running from the people that want him dead, his only hope is that his past doesn’t catch up to him. Especially when he meets the pretty eye’d waitress up the street.

|Requests|

* Reader gets into Eddie’s Dom Kinks.

* Eddie starts to notice a change in his virgin bestfriend.

* Perv!eddie x Perv!reader One & Two

* Surprising Virgin!eddie w/ roadhead

* Sex in the Hellfire Room

* Vampire!eddie x vampire!reader

* Eddie angst (very dark themes)

*hands

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

Whew! I don’t think I’ve written this much in such a short amount of time ever in my life. The boys deserve a soft ending, I think. Enjoy!

-

It goes like this. While Eddie's been lost in his own mind, his body was living. Sort of.

Top secret government assisted living, kinda living. For a secret government hospital one would think the place would be fancier or something but it's just a regular looking hospital.

Eddie's in therapy, both for his body and mind.

He learns that the voice he heard when Eleven helped pull him from the depths of his mind was Mike Wheeler of all people, and he sounds different because he's nineteen and in college. Mike mocks him on graduating before Eddie. He regrets it when Eddie gets him into a headlock.

-

He gets to meet Eleven, outside of his mind. And he starts calling her El. Part of him can't stop thinking about Eleven as the entity he thought was going to lead him to the great beyond.

She is just a person. Sorta.

Dustin had told him there was a girl with superpowers and Eddie is glad she's real. Not that he thought Dustin would lie about this (actually, he might have thought Dustin was lying just to give him some weird version of a pep talk. Everything said before going through Watergate was suspect if he's honest).

-

When he's finally well enough to be able to leave, Doctor Owens tells him their plan.

They're gonna convince Wayne to fly to Tennessee. Eddie, El, and Mike Wheeler are gonna be flown there, too. There's a place for them to stay, to meet up with his uncle in private.

They'll stay there a month. Doctor Owens knows a doctor who can do Eddie's final evaluations before he can really go home.

That's the real kicker.

Hawkins fucking sucks. Small town, narrow views, non-conformity gets you called a Freak in the same way his Dad used to call him a fag. Like he said, fucking sucks.

But it's also the sanctuary he escaped to when he was eleven years old. It's the place where his uncle built a home for him.

So, back to Hawkins first. He can always go somewhere else later. Maybe a coastal city. See the ocean.

-

Eddie hasn't been afraid of a reaction from his uncle since that day in the hospital parking lot after he caught Eddie making out with another guy. He's got that same fear inside now, though, knowing that when El opens that door, he'll see the family he feels like he abandoned. It's not fair to himself to think that, his therapist would say, but he's allowed to have crazy thoughts right now. He's come back from being (not)dead and gets to see Wayne again for the first time. Knowing his feelings are justified doesn't make them fade, though, so he's not surprised his voice shakes when the door finally opens. “Hey Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne takes less than two seconds to reach Eddie, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “I love you so much, you little bastard. Don’t you ever, ever do this to me again.”

It's all Eddie can do to remain upright and hug him back, clinging to his shirt like he's eleven years old again.

-

Wayne gives him an overview of what he's missed after the Upside Down came into their world (he heard that part from El and Mike, against the better wishes of Doctor Owens). Learns that Wayne and Steve live in Steve's childhood home because his parents just gifted it to him, apparently. That Wayne is only part time at the plant now due to an accident he had, and how that sparked his current living conditions.

Learns that Steve and Wayne became close because, unbelievably, Steve Harrington goes to his grave in the cemetery and cleans off graffiti on the regular.

Eddie feels a little hot under the collar because his brain reminds him of a fact he’d heard once; that the author of Frankenstein lost her virginity on her mother’s grave and a little voice in the back of his head whispers that it'd be hot for him to do the same thing with Steve on his own grave.

He has to scamper to the bathroom to scold himself in the mirror because he cannot be having these kinds of thoughts about Steve while talking to his uncle!

-

Wayne asks him, the night before their flight, “what’s something you want to do, once everything is settled and life starts to feel normal again?”

“I wanna go on a vacation. Like, a real, bona fide, family vacation.”

“Where you wanna go?”

“Think I’d like to see the ocean.”

Wayne smiles softly. “Alright. When you feel ready for it, we’ll go.”

-

“Just give him a chance, Eddie,” Wayne says randomly, as they wait to board their flight to Indianapolis.

“Give him a chance? As if I’d waste it,” Eddie feels breathless at just the thought. It's certainly not helping that stupid crush he's been harboring for years, knowing how Steve’s been treating his uncle. It was one thing to watch Steve defend Jeff that one time in high school; it's an entirely different ball game knowing he's watched over his uncle with care and devotion for years. “He took care of you when I couldn’t. He cares. I don’t think there’s a chance I wouldn’t give him.”

“How long have you had a thing for Steve?”

Eddie's brain screeches to a halt because he was didn't think anything he'd just said would give him away. He can't even think of a reply good enough to throw his uncle off his trail. “That’s not- why would you think- when have I ever!?”

“You think I wouldn’t know this about you?” Wayne chuckles.

No. No, Eddie thinks, of course you could take one look at me and know. His uncle had been able to know everything about him so effortlessly. But Eddie doesn't have to answer, so he won't. “So, we’ll be living with Steve Harrington? Will he… be okay with me being there?”

“Yeah. Steve and I had each other when we needed it. Now I need you, so Steve won’t mind at all," Wayne sounds so sure, so convinced, that Eddie is too.

Eddie smiles, pulling a strand of his hair to hide his face behind as he imagines getting to eat at the same dinner table as Steve fucking Harrington. He doesn't even mind that Wayne gives him a look at says 'you are being so obvious right now' because he is. He knows he is. He's allowed to be. Wayne's not going to mock him for his crush.

-

On the drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins, Wayne tells him the lie he told Steve. Apparently, Steve thinks Eddie's dad is coming to stay for a while. The mere thought of that sets Eddie on edge, even though he knows Wyatt Munson's still in prison. Will be for a long time, with the list of shit they got him for.

They roll into Hawkins shortly after, and while Eddie may have not been in Hawkins the last five years, and he's willing to admit that things might have changed things up since they did have to rebuild a lot of the town, he's certain that Steve's house is on the other side of it. “This isn’t the way to the Harrington house."

“Steve won’t be there. He comes here when he’s overwhelmed," Wayne says. It's still pretty jarring to hear Wayne talk about Steve like this. Like he knows him. Which, he does, obviously, because they've gotten to know each other.

Still mind blowing to think about.

“The cemetery?” is what comes out of his mouth, though.

Wayne knows what's he's really meaning to ask, though, because he shrugs and says, “we both come talk to you. Steve always starts with the bad news, you know. I think you should start with good news. Just this once." The car is slowing down, and Wayne is pointing out the front windshield, to a figure crouched down near a lone headstone. "Ah. See, there he is.”

Steve. He's too far away for Eddie to be sure sure but if anyone is still wearing bright polo shirts tucked into light wash jeans this far after leaving high school, it'd be Steve Harrington. Eddie's not even sure the car is fully stopped when he all but falls out of it.

He doesn't run to greet Steve, because that's a bit dramatic, but he's not too proud to admit he might be power walking. He slows down when he gets closer, coming to a full stop just close enough to hear Steve talking to his grave. Talking to him.

"Bad news, Eds. I'm too much of a coward to meet your old man. Afraid of what he'll sound like. Because I want him to sound like you so fucking bad it hurts. So instead of being home, I'm hiding here."

"Well, I've some bad news for you, too, Stevie. I got my voice from my mom," Eddie says, and almost instantly cringes because Wayne literally just told him to start with good news and he didn't. Eddie doesn't have much time to soak in his embarrassment, though, because Steve whips around so fast that Eddie's dizzy from the movement.

Steve looks older but it's in the way people who have seen more than their fair share of Hell look older, and less about actual aging. His eyes are wide and stunned. Eddie watches as his jaw moves but no words come out. He looks like he's seen a ghost which... ok, that's fair.

"Umm," Eddie says, a little worried he's broken him when Steve doesn't even seem to be blinking as he stares at Eddie. "Good news, Steve. I, uh, I lived. Kinda. El kinda pulled me back to the surface of my mind, or whatever, and Owens did a good job at patchin' up the goods here," he gestures to his whole body with a sweeping motion of his hand and wishes that a gate to the Upside Down would open beneath his feet and suck him back to Hell because could he be any more embarrassing?

"A-are you," he watches as Steve swallows and takes a deep breath. He's still not sure Steve has blinked yet. "real?"

"Yeah," Eddie nods, taking a few steps closer, "yeah, I'm real. I'm here and alive and real."

Steve launches himself forward then, meeting him halfway. It's so goddamn surreal be witness to how tenderly Steve actually reaches out to him, though, such a contrast to the flurry of movement he'd been just a second ago. Eddie stays still as Steve lifts shaking hands to cup his face with, pushing against his cheeks as if to test whether or not Eddie is solid. Those hands slide down, along his neck, across his shoulders, down his arms where Steve seems to need to pause and collect himself again, hands wrapped loosely around his arms just below his elbows while Steve shuts his eyes and a low, broken sound pulls itself from his throat before his eyes open again, wet with tears, and he releases Eddie just long enough to throw his arms around his neck and pull him into a hug almost as crushing as the one he shared with his uncle.

It's overwhelming in this moment. To see how much he means to Steve and not fully understand how he came to mean anything to him at all.

Doesn't stop him from wrapping his own arms around Steve's waist, though.

-

It goes like this.

He gets his own room at Harrington's house. Wayne has his own room, too. How strange it is, to not have his uncle sleeping the day away on the couch because the trailer had one room and he'd given it to Eddie.

They adjust to living together so seamlessly. Like they were always meant to be family.

They have dinner together. Real homecooked meals. Which isn't a novelty for Wayne and Steve anymore, but Eddie's memory ends five years ago, when his dinners consisted of microwavable meals or left over snacks from lunch. Wayne cooks on the days when Steve works, and Eddie helps. Gets to be taught how to cook.

For a while, Eddie is afraid to leave the house. Even knowing that Jason Carver bit the dust the same day he was supposed to also doesn’t help. He only goes places with Wayne and Steve, and even then, the double takes people send his way are enough to make him want to shrink into himself.

However, no one says anything to him. He's vaguely aware that everyone here lived through some sort of miniature apocalypse and maybe that's the kind of thing that has to happen to make a small town in Indiana change.

-

He and Steve dance around each other. He can feel it. There is something here, between them, that neither fully acknowledges.

He tries to talk to Wayne about it, but he won't give him much to go on.

"I won't be the one to say anything about what Steve thinks of you. That's gotta come from Steve. I will say this. He's waiting for you to bring it up first."

"Why does it have to be me?"

"He's had five years to gather his thoughts and emotions," Wayne levels him with a Look, "you gotta have the time to figure yourself out, too."

Well, fuck.

-

Steve waits until it's almost summer break for the kids (they’re not really kids anymore, though, but Eddie’s adjusting to that still) to ask if he's ready to face them. "It'll be a lot to handle," Steve says as he sits next to Eddie on their couch (their couch. He can't believe that's a truth in his life right now). "Eleven and Mike haven't told anyone yet, but they want to. It wasn't just Wayne and I that grieved for you."

"I know," Eddie says, "I know. I'm good. I'm alive and here and I want them to know about it."

Steve nods slowly, not fully focused on Eddie. Eddie's come to know that means he's thinking, so Eddie waits for him to speak. "Would you prefer to meet with everyone... one at a time?"

"What's the other option?"

"Well, I always host a barbeque when they all come back. Could tell everyone all at once. Like ripping off a Band-Aid."

Eddie crooks a smile because he's a bit mischievous and his mind instantly plays a scene where he walks into a backyard full of all the people he's come to care for, and who care for him, and he's trying to best to be casual about it in this fantasy. "Yeah. Let's do the barbeque thing."

-

"Bad news, Stevie," Eddie whispers as he leans against the wall next his closed door, trying not to hyperventilate. "I don't know if I can do this."

Steve reaches out and takes one of Eddie's hands in his own, linking their fingers like it's a casual thing they do all the time when it's most certainly not. "Good news, Eds. You don't have to. We didn't tell anyone you're here. You can stay in your room until they're gone, and we'll figure out another way to tell them."

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and thinks he might be crushing all the bones in Steve's hand with how hard he's clenching it. "What if they're mad at me?"

Steve understands the real question Eddie is asking, the one he doesn't know how to phrase. "You were dead, Eds, and no one out in that yard is going to be 'mad' about any time they'd spent grieving over you. There's gonna be a lot of tears, man, like a lot. Maybe even some shouting. None of it done in anger."

"How're you sure?"

Steve lifts his unoccupied hand and cups Eddie's check. Steve’s eyes are watery and his voice is a bit choked, but he says, "because I was there. I saw them through their grief. Everyone in the backyard either loves you already, or they will."

It's so fucking intimate, how close they are, how tenderly Steve touches him. Wayne had said he'd need to take the first step, so he blames Wayne when he blurts out, "what about everyone in this room? They love me, too?"

Steve's eyes go wide in surprise before his whole face lights up in a way Eddie has never seen before. It makes Steve look younger, less haunted, and then Steve whispers, "of course I love you," like there is no other answer Steve could have given.

Eddie grabs a handful as Steve's polo shirt and pulls him close enough to kiss.

Butterflies and fireworks erupt within Eddie. Kissing Steve is so much better than he's ever let himself imagine. They're still holding hands and Steve's still got his other hand resting so softly on his cheek and Steve's lips are kinda chapped but fuck does the briefest touch of their lips together make Eddie lose all his breath.

It's not deep, or all consuming. There's not even an exchange of tongue. Steve kisses him softly, gently, pulls back to pepper little kisses all over Eddie's face that has him blushing more than he's ever done in his life, and Steve places one, two, three more kisses to his lips before pulling back to look at Eddie like he's the answer to every prayer Steve's ever had. It makes his knees weak.

"I think," Eddie pauses to lick his lips, "I think I'll be brave enough to do it if you're holding my hand."

"Just try and pry yourself away, Munson," Steve teases. "Whenever you're ready."

-

Steve was right about the tears and shouting. He was also right that no one is mad at him.

Dustin hugs him so hard they fall over in the yard and Eddie finds himself part of a dog pile that starts with crying that turns into laughter that leads back into crying, everyone grabbing at him and him grabbing back.

It's emotional. It's overwhelming. It's the best fucking day of Eddie Munson's life.

-

Doctor Owens reaches out towards the end of summer to let him know they're issuing him a new social security card. Eddie asks if he's allowed to change him name. Owens says yes.

-

"Bad news first, Eddie," Eddie says to himself as he kneels in front of his own headstone. "You've become so boring and normal, no one vandalizes your grave anymore. Good news, though. Means I can do it myself."

Before him is his headstone, a thick red line painted through his death date. Another more carefully applied line is struck through his middle name. Above it he's painted in block letters 'Wayne'.

"Eddie, come on! This road trip's gonna start without you," Steve calls from where he's leaning against the side of Wayne's pickup.

Eddie is satisfied with his work, so he abandons the paint and returns to the pickup. He slides across the bench seat, one leg pretzeled under himself to be out of the way of the gear shift. Steve follows in after, shutting the door and reaching for Eddie's hand automatically.

He's got Wayne to his left, Steve to his right, and the first family vacation he's ever taken in his life ahead of him.

Good news, Eddie Wayne Munson. Maybe everyday going forward can be the best fucking day of your life.

[eddieintheocean]

cant believe this lecturer included the actual phrase "sea shanty moment" in a powerpoint slide and just completely skipped past it

[pluckyredhead]

The Lost Titans in Canon: Jason and Eddie

Because I am very normal and VERY excited to finally start posting The Lost Titans on Monday (mark your calendars!), I'm also going to start doing some in-depth posts on the canon relationships between these characters. Some have a lot of history, some have only met in passing, and some (Koryak) have never been allowed to hang out with anyone outside of the ocean.

We're starting with Jason and Eddie, whose relationship is referenced in exactly two (2) comics, but it has me in a chokehold anyway.

The first of these is Blue Devil #19, where we learn that Jason and Eddie are pen pals:

THESE BABIES. I AM DYING.

(In case you can't read the cursive, Eddie's letter says "That jewel thief had been hitting the posh Rodeo Drive shops like clockwork - one every Saturday! So when I learned Miggles' was displaying the Star of Pakistan, it was an easy guess where he'd show up next!" and Jason's says "Dear Kid Devil, Thank you for writing to me! I think being pen pals is a swell idea and I'm looking forward to reading all about your adventures! But to start with, let me tell you about a case I'm working on right now...!")

It does sort of make sense that Jason and Eddie would have been teamed up, because they were pretty much the only kids in the DCU at this point - it was 1985, and the Titans were all around 18, while Jason and Eddie were like...12 or 13, maybe? And I genuinely can't think of any other kid characters from around that time.

Anyway, it is a very short story - only four pages - but it ends with the boys realizing they fought the same bad guy and teaming up to catch him:

I love how much shorter Eddie is than Jason. What a little nugget.

The only other reference to this friendship comes literally 22 years later, in Teen Titans #42, after Eddie gets his powers. While running over his origin, he drops this:

THAT'S RIGHT, EDDIE BLOOMBERG IS RIDE OR DIE AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT. Fun fact: Jason had actually come back from the dead two years before. It's unclear if Eddie knows that, because he uses the word "was" here - Jason did attack Tim in Titans Tower in #29, but that was before Eddie joined the team, so who knows?

Anyway, that's the Jason and Eddie friendship in canon! Now I am going to go back to writing letters to DC begging them to let these two team up again.

[deathbecomesthem]

Crawling to the Finish | Part 2 | 5K

Eddie Munson x Fem!Disabled!Reader

*This is a completed series that is queued and will be released on the dates below. This Masterlist will be updated with each part that is released.

+18 ONLY | MDNI

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Later parts are going to have smut, because disabled people have sex like everyone else. *This part describes disordered eating due to pain.*

Summary: You have to go back to school while still recovering from surgery. Principal Higgins is determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so he assigns someone to help you get around.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

---

You were drifting through life, the unsteady ocean of the things out of your control set your course. It was something you’ve learned how to deal with. Take things as they come, adjust, go with the flow, let the waves move you how they wanted. But, when the pain is bad, it sets your teeth on edge, and you hate being that person. Mean. Angry. Bitter. It’s not who you are, but it’s how you are right now. You were just waiting. Because, despite the hope in your mother’s eyes, you knew that this last surgery would do nothing to fix you. It was just something to add to the chart so Dr. Greene could say he had tried it all before giving an 18 year a total hip replacement. They don’t last forever, and then he’ll have to deal with a patient needing revision at a too young age.

The bright spot these days comes in the form of a group of nerdy boys. Every day, you sit with them at lunch. It’s your safe spot. No one bothers you, you can just sit and be quiet without feeling like you need to do anything. The boys never say anything about how little you eat. Dustin occasionally looks at you with knowing eyes, and he’s always quick to offer up anything you might like as a treat. Food is hard most days, everything turns to cement in your mouth as you chew, and it never sits right in your stomach.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, the highest points of your days are in the few minutes before each class when you move through the empty halls with Eddie by your side. Your friendship has come about easily. He’s so open to you. He asks questions. He stops talking when you tell him you need quiet without making you feel unkind. He tells you about his band and his club. Then one day, he tells you something that blows you away, because you feel like you were really starting to know him, and you never would have guessed.

“Well, you know, school’s not exactly my strong suit. I’m pretty sure I’m destined to be stuck in this building until I’m old and gray.” You’d been telling him about how determined you were to get your diploma, even if it meant you had to drag your body across the stage to get it. His statement confused you, though.

“What do you mean? You might not graduate?” You’re legitimately confused. “Why not?”

“Oh, Ilene, this is my third senior year.” You’re standing outside of your English class, the bell still 2 minutes away from ringing. These conversations were really one big conversation broken up into little intervals throughout the day. “If I can manage to pass English this time, there’s a chance I’ll be able to walk that stage.” His words hang in the air for a moment while you digest them and try to make sense of them.

You’re annoyed. Almost angry. How the actual fuck – “Eddie, that’s bullshit.” His eyebrows shoot up so high, they’re lost under his fringe. Your tone tells him that you think his excuses are bullshit. “Come on, are you telling me you can’t do that work, because I’m telling you, you’ve got a brain in there.” You tap the side of his head a little harder than was necessary.

“I’m telling you, I’ve managed to fuck it up two years in a row –“ he’s getting a little hot with you, annoyed for being called out, “- and I’m trying, but it’s hard.”

Today’s a better day for you, so you find yourself able to bite back the truly harsh remarks that sometimes spill out of your mouth. You let the silence sit for another moment and think about what it’s been like for him, how he’s been treated by his teachers and how he doesn’t have the kind of support at home that would help him get through a tough time. The bell rings and brings your thoughts back to the Eddie that’s at your side. You look and see his features are a little pained by your words, so you try to make it right before he takes off for his own class.

“Hey, you’re right, I don’t know how it’s been for you.” He’s following behind you while you make your way to your desk, only the two of you in the classroom at the moment. “Why don’t you come over a couple of times a week and we can be study buddies?”

Eddie drops your bookbag at your feet. He takes your hand, as he does multiple times a day to help you get yourself situated at your desk, and holds on to your crutches for you. This routine just sort of happened naturally, but right now it strikes you how comfortable you’ve become with his hands helping you. It’s so unlike you to be so accepting of help.

Before he can take his hand away and leave, you give it a squeeze, drawing his gaze to your face. “I’m serious, I’d like having someone around when I do my homework. It might help us both to just have someone else working next to us.”

A couple of people started making their way through the door, a signal that he has to bust his ass across the building, “I’ll see you in 45 minutes.” There’s a little sink in your stomach, worry at upsetting him, but he gives your own hand a little squeeze before he lets go.

---

Eddie doesn’t bring up your offer for the rest of the day, leaving you feeling a little bit deflated. You pushed too hard, and you regret it. Never once has he done anything to make you feel bad about yourself, and you let your mouth run away the first time he’s a tiny bit vulnerable with you. But, as with everything in life, you let those feelings float on, letting them go.

On the Monday of week 5 post surgery, the pain has ebbed into a constant and familiar ache. You eat enough to keep yourself upright. Your sleep is fragmented, waking frequently to adjust the pillow that rests under your left hip.

Your incision is healed, you’ve always been a quick healer - except for that one joint. The one that keeps you from being a normal teenager. The one that keeps you too thin and gives you dark circles under your eyes.

When you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the realm of self-pity, you let yourself remember. Because, this recovery is simple compared to a full body cast, a bed pan, hair washed in the bathroom sink, a baby monitor set next to you at night at the age of 14. This is nothing. And you’re inching closer to the thing you want more than anything. A new lease on life through your next surgery.

Today, though, you’re getting dressed, putting on makeup, and feeling better than you have in a long time. You’re looking forward to seeing your boys. To seeing your Eddie. You try not think about him when you pull out the curling iron and work your hair into a cute half updo. You try not to think about which lip gloss he would prefer as you rummage through the drawers of your vanity. You definitely avoid the thought of him seeing your ass in the form fitting black jeans you feel like you can tolerate rubbing against the still tender scars that run down your outer thigh and lower waist. Nope. Not thinking about that.

Eddie’s leaning against the hood of his van when you pull into the parking lot this morning. He’s been arriving early since last week so he can be there to escort you into the building first thing each day. This morning your stomach leaps into your throat as you watch him flick his cigarette butt into the grass at the edge of the lot. Friday was the first day you’d really noticed how pretty his eyes are, really looked at how full his lips are. It was a revelation you weren’t expecting. As much as you wish you could just push the feelings away, you know it’s not possible. You’ve noticed him, no going back now.

“Excuse me sir, can you point me in the direction of an errand boy to hire for the day? I can’t possibly be expected to carry my own things around all day.” You’ve pulled your car up next to Eddie with your window rolled down. You let your eyes travel up and down his body to assess him with exaggeration, “You might be sufficient. Do you have any references?”

“There’s this one girl, she’s kind of a pain in the ass, but I’m sure she’d be willing to write me a letter of recommendation.” His head is tilted to the side and he’s wearing a grin that shows off his pretty dimples. “What kind of compensation do you offer?”

“The pleasure of my company.” You give him a big smile and a flutter of your lashes before you pull in to the spot next to him. He makes his way to your car, reaching into the back seat for your crutches before offering his hand to help you out.

“Oh, I think I might take that offer, but I have one request.” He’s answering you try to find your balance. Once you’re upright, he reaches across the front seat to grab your bookbag for you. “How do you feel about adding in some study time this week to sweeten the deal?”

You’ve crutched a couple of steps while he closes your car door for you, but you stop after he makes his request to cock your head and squint your eyes. He’s got that fucking smile on his face again.

“Oh, sure. Follow me home tonight, we can do some work at my house, ok?” Eddie nods and you’re both kind of just looking back and forth at each other while you make your way to the big doors that lead into the school.

“You look really pretty today, by the way.” It’s a casual statement that a friend would make to another friend, but you can feel the heat rising up your chest, and your stomach feels like it’s on fire.

You can’t help but do the thing you always do when you feel like you’re in a corner. You joke.

“Stop flirting with me. I know the crutches are irresistible, but you’re gonna have to try to resist.”

And you think he’ll leave it at that. So, you crutch your way down the still quiet hallway, but he just can’t stop himself. A couple of steps behind you, he says just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s not the crutches I’m thinking about from this angle, Ilene.”

---

That’s how the flirtation started, with Eddie not so subtlety checking out your ass at 7:30 on a Monday morning. It went on like this for the rest of the week. On Wednesday, you sat next to Dustin at lunch. His positivity was contagious, and you found you cared deeply for the kid. He always knew how to talk, or not talk, to you.

“So, Eddie tells me you’ve been helping him study.” You’ve been making eyes at Eddie from across the table. Eddie’s been coming over to your house for a couple of hours the last two afternoons, and you’ve started helping him work on his English paper. After talking him through what some of his issues have been, you offer to be his scribe. It’s working really well, you writing his words.

“Uh, yeah. It’s been nice having him around.” You finally drag your eyes away from Eddie to meet Dustin’s face and he’s practically glowing.

“Oh, good. You guys are, uh, really hitting it off, huh?” Your eyes roll a little and you flick the back of his hands with your fingers in a playful admonishment.

“Stop. It’s not like that.”

Dustin shrugs a little, still radiant with pleasure at all of the possibilities he has running rampant through his head.

“Hey, when do you see your doctor? It’s next week, right?”

“Yep.” It’s all you can manage. Your anxiety was starting to build at the thought of it.

“How soon do you expect to have your surgery?” You had told Dustin about the prospect of a hip replacement. He was enthusiastic, understanding it would be the ticket to a more independent life.

“As soon as he’ll schedule it. Realistically? Probably in a month. I think I’ve convinced my mom that it’s definitely happening, but you know, parents are always worried.” Dustin knew. He definitely knew.

“Well, I’m excited for you.” His big smile does a lot to settle your anxiety. His support means so much to you. “I’m sure Eddie will be excited too.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Dustin, I swear to god.” You shake your head and look back to see Eddie smirking at your obvious annoyance with his favorite kid.

---

“So, tell me about Eddie.” Your mom sat at the kitchen table and sorted through the mail while you got yourself situated on the recliner. You’d been sleeping in it all week, it holds your body in all of the right places. It’s the only place you can fully relax, even if it’s only for a couple of hours at a time.

“You met him, you already know about him.” It’s Friday, the first afternoon that you’ve returned from school without the metalhead following closely behind. His band is practicing, but he offered to come over after to watch a movie later.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid, I like him.” She rips open one of the envelopes and scans the page. A medical bill. You can tell from the resigned sigh that leaves her mouth. “I was just wondering if anything’s been going on between you two yet.”

“We’re just friends, mom.” It doesn’t even sound convincing to your own ears.

“Of course your friends. He’s the reason I don’t worry about you when you leave the house. But I’m not blind.” She doesn’t say anymore, she just gets up and digs her check book out of her purse before dropping back into the seat and continuing the depressing job of draining her bank account.

“Oh, uh, Eddie’s coming over at 7 to watch a movie if that’s ok.” Your attempt at sounding casual fails, and you know it because you’re mom barks out a laugh.

“Eddie’s always welcome, you don’t have to ask. ‘Just friends.’” She does air quotes at you, and you lay your head back to try to nap before Eddie heads over.

The next thing you know, there’s a hand on your arm and you smell pizza? Your groggy eyes are trying to open, the hand on your arm is lifting and you hear his voice, as if from a distance.

“Maybe I should go. I don’t want to wake her if she needs to sleep.” His voice is soft, and you wonder who he’s talking about. Wait, he’s talking about me. Because I’m asleep.

“No, I promise, she’ll never forgive me if I let her sleep through your visit.” You hear footsteps moving towards you, and there’s another smaller hand with a firmer grip on your arm. “Sweetie, Eddie’s here to see you. He brought over some pizza. Wanna wake up?”

Your feel like your eyelids weigh a ton, but you finally get them open enough to see your mom and Eddie standing over you, looking at you. Eddie looks concerned, his fingers at his mouth playing with his bottom lip.

“Hey, Buddy.” You croak out and give him a sleepy smile, and you can see him visibly relax. Your mom gives him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves the room. “Thanks for coming over, Eddie.” You start moving to get up, and he puts his hands out to stop you.

“Hey, no, it’s ok, stay there.” But you’re shaking your head, you had to get up and move around to get the blood flowing.

“I’m fine, I can’t stay in this chair anymore or I won’t sleep at all tonight.” Eddie’s quick to offer his arm to you, and warmth starts to stir inside of you. His leather jacket is thrown over a chair in the kitchen. This is the first time you’ve had your hands on his bare arm, and his skin feel so warm under your fingers.

“Where’d you get the pizza, Ed?” You put your arm around his shoulder, letting him help you to the kitchen without the aid of your crutches. His hair smells clean, like maybe he took a shower before coming over. You let your fingers brush across the ends of his hair to see if it’s still damp. It is.

“Uh, I went to Gino’s. Is that ok?” He turns his head to face you, and he’s so close. You notice his eyes drifting between your eyes and your mouth while you’re hopping the last few feet before resting on one of the cloth covered chairs at the octagonal table.

“It’s great. Thank you.” As soon as your ass hits the chair, he’s moving in a flurry. Getting you something to drink, plating some pizza, frenetic movements around the kitchen.

He finally sits with you after grabbing a plate for himself. This is the moment. This is when you know it. You let your foot rest next to his, your sock covered toes rub the top of his foot just a little, and he’s all smiles. This is good. He returns your gesture with a little toe rub of his own, and you let the greasy cheesy pizza fill your stomach while you play footsie with the pretty boy sitting next to you.

Eddie brought over the movie he’d been talking about all week, insisting you should watch it. LadyHawke. You know it’s not anywhere near what you’d consider watching normally, but his excitement was worth it. Also, the thought of sitting in a dark room with him sitting close to him made your whole body tingle.

You stood at in front of the couch, looking down at it, trying to decide what would work the best. Eddie stood there, looking a little confused, probably wondering why you were staring at a piece of furniture with such concentration.

“So, uh, do you need help, or…” He’s filling the silence with anything, and you’ve decided to just tell him the truth.

“I’m thinking about how I can be comfortable on this couch while also not being too obvious about wanting you to be close to me.” You keep looking at the couch, and Eddie is standing a little straighter.

“Ah, yeah, I see.” Now he’s looking at the couch with you while you lean your weight onto his shoulders. He snaps his fingers together excitedly. “I’ve got it. Here.” He’s helping you down onto the couch, making sure you’ve got a pillow to rest under your hip before he gets the movie set up and turns off the lights. You’re waiting, a little sad to be sitting alone.

“Ok, can I sit here?” He’s pointing at the very end of the couch where you’re head and shoulders are resting, and you feel a smile pulling on your lips.

“Of course you can.” You sit up as much as you can, and Eddie sneaks his slender body next to you. It’s easy to rest your head on him, perfectly comfortable, his arms are gently surrounding you. You can feel his steady breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart with your head on his broad chest.

LadyHawke is playing on the television. You know that. Michelle Pfeiffer and Matthew Broderick are right on the screen. Outside of that, nothing is connecting. Eddie’s hand is moving along your arm, fingers lazily running along your skin. Your face is pressed into his cotton t shirt, it smells like fabric softener and very faintly of cigarette smoke. You can feel his warm breath on the crown of your head. Your hand is running along the rings of his free hand, dipping into the valleys between his fingers. You can hear his breath hitch when you let the tip of your fingers rub against the sensitive skin.

“This is really nice, Ed.” You need him to know how you’re feeling right now before your heart explodes in your chest from his tender touches.

“Mmmm” The hum is thick, reverberating through his chest. He’s gone somewhere, just feeling and not thinking. As casually as possible without full function of you lower half, you turn yourself to look at his face. Your expectation is that you’ll see his face focused on the screen, but no. He’s looking down at you with a soft expression.

You reach to touch his face, asking him to look at you. Please, see me. He does. You see his vision focus, he’s back with you. You run your finger down his jaw, feeling the stubble growing there. His hand isn’t running along your arm now. No, it’s found the spot on your side where you’re shirt has ridden up, and now his fingers are bringing out goosebumps along this new place, a gentle dance.

It’s a challenge. It’s awkward. You’re moving your body in ways that are not completely natural, trying to angle your face to meet his. His sweet and knowing smile makes you giggle a little. It’s ridiculous that this should be so hard when it’s so stupidly easy for every other teenager in the world. But, this is Eddie, and he’s not making you feel weird.

“You wanna kiss, Sweet Girl?” Of course you want a kiss. It’s why you have your body twisted, face in the crook of his neck. So close. You have to pull yourself up using his shirt as leverage.

“No.” Your face is heating up enough that you’re sure he can feel it on the skin of his neck. “I just wanna put my face right here.” You let your lips brush against his the soft skin behind his ear, and he lets out a little groan.

“Oh, yeah, ok.” His breath is ragged as you trail your lips across his neck leaving gentle kisses as you go. His hands are gripped firmly at the skin of your side, he’s obviously trying to keep himself under control while you assault his most sensitive spots.

“Eddie, I’m sorry.” You breath out in the shell of his ear and his breath stutters, “I’m lying. I really do want you to kiss me.” Your teeth nip at the spot behind his hear, and you’re satisfied with the whimper that escapes his pretty mouth.

It’s still awkward, but neither of you seem to care. The goal is to let your lips meet. So close. So, so close. He’s so pretty. The reflection of the screen illuminates his face, and you’re struck again by his perfect features. You can’t get your face to angle in the right way, so you just bring your hand up to run along his eyebrows, down his nose, along his pretty lips.

He closes his eyes while you explore his features with your featherlight touches. Slowly, he starts to move away from you, gently guiding your body to a half sitting position.

“Lay down, Sweetheart.” His knees are resting on the carpet in front of the couch, and he helps you lay on your side to face him. “There she is.” His hand cups your cheek and he closes the distance to let your lips meet. Finally. His lips are as soft as the touches you’ve been sharing. His fingers scratch at the back of your head, and your open mouths taste each other while Lady Hawke plays on in the background, all while Eddie sits on his knees on the floor.

---

In your living room on that Friday night, you let the waves take you like you always did. The feelings were happening, there was no stopping it. There are so few things in your life that make perfect sense, there’s so much uncertainty. But Eddie was consistent, he was true. So, it happens, and it’s right.

Saturday, you’re mother takes you to a salon. Self-care has been low priority for a long time, but the hair cut was a practice in hope. Monday morning, instead of meeting Eddie in the parking lot of the high school, you’ll be sitting in the office of your surgeon discussing next steps. While waiting for your time slot, you flip through the book filled with glossy images of haircuts. You know what you want before even stepping foot in the door, but you need a visual reference. When you see the picture, you have to hold in a laugh, it’s exactly what you’re looking for. It’s not until you see the cut on the model that you realize it is the same cut that Isabeau wears in LadyHawke.

The seat is uncomfortable, it strains the already painful joint, but it’s so worth it. Angie, your hairstylist, is massaging your scalp more than washing your hair, and you feel like purring with satisfaction. You suspect that your mom told her something that made her want to give you extra pampering, and you don’t even care if it’s out of pity. When she finally turns the taps off and wraps your head in a towel, your eyes are heavy, but your body feels light.

Getting a haircut has always been a ritual you like to go through before major medical stuff. It’s a shedding of the past and making room for new growth. The practicality of having less hair to deal with post operation is an added bonus. This is the first cut you’ve had in a year, and your hair is well past the donation threshold. After the initial chop of the braids hanging down your back, you listen to the scissors snip snip snip while small clumps of hair float to the ground. You feel freer already.

Sunday Eddie visits for a while, and he brings Dustin. It’s a surprise, but you’re so happy to see him. Outside of your mom, they’re the only ones you’ve told about your anxieties. To his benefit, Dustin never comments on the fact that you’re head rests in Eddie’s lap and that he runs his fingers through your hair while they visit. Even though it looks physically painful for him to keep his thoughts to himself.

For the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re just passing time and waiting for the next thing. Waiting for you life to finally make sense and be set right. You feel accepted and held by Eddie. He sees you and doesn’t frown at the sight of your pain, he simply tries to not add to it. Having a friend like Dustin must have played a part in his understanding, but it’s more than that. Eddie just accepts and offers sincerity in everything.

When Dustin takes off, telling you he’s got plans with Mike Wheeler, you know he’s really giving you and Eddie some time. Eddie helps you over to the recliner so you can really rest, the week was long and you’re still so tired. You make yourself small and pull him into the oversized chair with you. He doesn’t argue. He moves with clear intention, cautiously but not with fear.

“Eddie, thanks for being here for me.” Your running your finger down his sternum, following a path to his ribs. You try not to think too hard about doing this without the cotton barrier of his shirt. You’re present, enjoying it for what is and trying to not wish any of it away.

“This is where I want to be, Baby. With my girl.” His eyes are closed, he looks as tired as you do. Fully relaxed under your touch.

“I’m your girl?” He keeps his eyes closed, but his mouth draws up into a smile at the softness of your voice.

“Yes, and I’m sorry. You’re stuck with me now. You found that spot behind my ear. I can’t let you go.” You take his hint and nose your way to his neck and run you lips along the spot. He’s practically growling his response, “You’re an evil woman, do you know that?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you liked this.” He pulls your chin away from his neck so you can see his face. The tender look on his face has you feeling gooey and warm. You spend the rest of the evening with your lips connected, taking all that you could give one another until – finally – you fall asleep to the sounds of his breathing.

[moremaybank]

VISIT MY LIBRARY ♡︎ FIC RECS (II) .𖥔 ݁ ˖

hi babies! it's been a while since i last made a page for my fic recs, so here i am with another one. under the cut (it got way too long LOL), you will find a collection of wonderful, imaginative works written by incredible writers who take the time out of their lives to bless us with their creativity and talent. don't forget to like, reblog and comment to spread the love! happy reading, i love you all! ♡︎

-͟͟͞☆ JJ MAYBANK

talk like this @sevenwivesofrafecameron

flying together

stubborn car ride

save the day @katsu28

au with jj @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles

bullet train @madelynie

learning to love @jjsbank444

jj maybank x pregnant!reader @rafesveryrealgf

you, the ocean, and me (two) @obaex

dying to tell you

pinch me

tired of waiting @blueicequeen19

charter (series)

making up

magic touch @pankowperfection

finally free @slut4drudy

the one with the celebration @mvybanks

the one with boxer!jj

false god

cool for the summer @surftrips

-͟͟͞☆ RAFE CAMERON

obsession @rafesmuse

need to know @geniedetails

rafe cameron headcanons @emsgoodthinkin

cold showers with boyfriend!rafe @forevermoreharrington

the three times duke tried to tell you something @obaex

prompt twenty-five @cal-flakes

always there for you @jjsbank444

protector

rafe has to come home from work early to punish you @rafeandonlyrafe

rafe x cockdrunk!reader @randomoutsiders

no drinks, no pools, no molly @runningfrom2am

rafe and princess watching a movie together @maybanksbabe

undercover @achromatopcia

the icebreaker (series) @sweetestdesire

betrayal @dreamingwithrafe

take care of you @sunraies

-͟͟͞☆ SARAH CAMERON

firsts @amournoir

playtime

labyrinth @surftrips

-͟͟͞☆ STEVE HARRINGTON

moody gf! reader + steve who puts up with it @rafesveryrealgf

summer lovin' @vnusology

aftercare stevie @allsmilesreally7

redemption @eddiemunsons80sbaby

what comes after @roanniom

steve sending audios @hungharrington

-͟͟͞☆ EDDIE MUNSON

freezing @inkluvs

friction @vnusology

you've got some new perfumes and eddie is a blind idiot @ghost-proofbaby

restless @aphrogeneias

sweet little bunny @belokhvostikova

[messessentialist]

Wayne knew something was wrong before he even finished parking in the gravel out front of the trailer.

He took his time fitting the key into the door and turning the lock, the hunting rifle he kept under the truck seats braced carefully under one arm. Entering slowly, he scanned the kitchen and hallway for threats. Instincts he hadn’t called upon in years, a vigilance he’d learned across an ocean, guided his eyes towards the spots that would provide best cover for a potential attacker.

But he didn’t find any attackers. 

Eddie seemed to be composed entirely of knees and elbows, folded as small as he could make himself in the farthest corner of the front room. But what struck Wayne the most was his eyes. Not just the purpling swell of a day-old bruise that cast a shadow over one in the dim, yellow light. No, it was the deep, primal fear in Eddie’s expression that gave him pause.

The boy was looking at him like he carried an executioner’s blade. 

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It's almost here! start by pulling him out of the fire is a labor of love I've been working on for almost a year, and I can't WAIT to share it with you. it's a story about the families we're born to, the families that find us, and the ways we're shaped and changed by both.

featuring absolutely incredible artwork by @hellfiredemon and @maikaartwork!

Posting starts this Sunday, November 19th on my AO3. New chapters will go up every Sunday and Wednesday through December 20th!

see you all real soon ;)