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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

Summary: After moving to Hawkins to take care of your ailing grandma, you end up spending a wild night with Corroded Coffin's lead singer, Eddie Munson. When you uncover his true intentions, you have no desire to ever see him again, but fate--and his son, Harris--has other plans.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fingering (f! receiving), oral (m!receiving), slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 7.5k

Chapter 1/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Late August, 1996.

July had come and gone so quickly, and you could sense it in the muggy air as the daylight dwindled away on the horizon of an orange colored sky. Your heels click along the parking lot pavement as you make your way into the dingy bar. Everyone told you that your twenties would be full of surprises, but no one warned you that those twists and turns would land you in Hawkins, Indiana.

The neon sign reads The Hideout; well, really, it reads Th H deo t, and the “o” is starting to flicker. You’re not the only one who notices the building’s crumbling exterior.

“Huh,” Jess says, crossing her arms over her chest. “This place seemed a lot cooler when I was in high school.” Still, she pushes open the door, where you’re immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and beer. The floor is sticky with what you can only hope is spilled liquor, and you take a seat on a rickety barstool.

“How did you even hear about this place?” you ask your new friend, tugging your dress so it covers a bit more of your thighs. You had one night out to yourself, and Jess was insistent on you making the most of it.

“Used to come here all the time when I was, like, sixteen?” She wrinkles her nose. “They’re dirt cheap and they never card, so my friends and I used to get super wasted. Thought we were hot shit.” She flags down the bartender with a wave and a smile. “Anyway, you can’t live in Hawkins and not come to the Hideout at least once. It’s a tradition.”

The bartender, a woman who looks to be in her mid-forties, leans on the counter. “What can I get you ladies?” she asks. Her voice is raspy from what sounds like decades of chain smoking.

You’re about to order a Bud Light, but Jess cuts you off. “We’ll each have a Hideout Special,” she says confidently. “Make hers a double.”

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me? And what the hell is a Hideout Special?”

She waves off your concern. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it’ll get you buzzed fast.”

You reluctantly agree, sipping on something that tastes vaguely like a mixture of rum and vodka, with the pungency of rubbing alcohol. “That’s awful,” you grimace, and Jess just laughs.

“Yeah, they’re pretty rough going down. But you only have one night to yourself, and you’re gonna make the most of it.” She links her arm through yours, using her free hand to tilt the drink back up to your lips. “Now, drink up. The band’s gonna start playing soon, and you’ll need all the liquor you can get. Trust me.”

Corroded Coffin, the band in question, is warming up in the back room. Tuesday nights has been their slot since high school, and if their lead singer and guitarist has his way, it’ll be their slot until they’re too old to play. He’s tuning his ax, tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, only looking up when he hears a faint “oh, shit,” come from his bandmate.

“Y’good?” Eddie asks, strumming gently to play a perfect A-chord.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, holding up a small black box. “Forgot I had this in my pocket; almost dropped it when I took off my jacket.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “That’s what you get for wearing leather in fuckin’ August, dude.” He squints at the object in Jeff’s hand. “What is that, anyway?”

“A ring,” Jeff proudly announces. “I’m gonna ask Viv to marry me.” The big, goofy grin on his face makes Eddie’s stomach churn. He looks at Gareth and Danny, expecting similar disgusted reactions from them, but they’re both smiling, too.

“Way to go, man!” Danny says, and Gareth claps Jeff on the back. “Our little Jeff is growing up.”

“Oh, fuck off, man,” Jeff says, but he’s laughing as he accepts the congratulations. He glances expectantly at Eddie, waiting for him to chime in.

“You two’ve been together for a million years,” Gareth jokes, twirling a drumstick in his free hand. “What made you decide to take the plunge?”

Jeff’s eyes dart around the room. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he starts, voice hushed, “but Viv’s pregnant!”

“Holy shit!” Danny sputters. “Dude, you’re gonna be a dad!”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees incredulously. “Fuckin’ wild, isn’t it?” His gaze falls to Eddie. “Does the seasoned professional have any words of wisdom?”

An uncharacteristic silence fills the room. Eddie can feel their eyes burning a hole into his head. He knows what he should say, what Jeff wants to hear, but he can’t bring himself to feign happiness. “You don’t have to marry someone just because you knocked her up.” It comes out with a snarl, meaner than he’d intended.

“Crazy thought, but have you considered that I actually want to marry her?” Jeff shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’re not all content being miserable hermits like you are.”

“Whoa, break it up,” Gareth tries, stepping between the two guitarists, but the conversation’s already too heated.

“I’m not miserable, and I’m not a hermit,” Eddie counters. “I’m just not about to limit myself when there’s plenty of pussy in the sea.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Thanks for the well wishes.” Eddie can’t help but notice the flash of hurt in his eyes as he walks away. A small part of him feels bad, but he can’t shake the anxiety that unexpected change seems to bring.

“So, what does this mean for Corroded Coffin?” he asks. “Should we consider this our farewell show?” He tries to ignore the irritated glares he’s getting from Gareth and Danny. It’s like the words fall from his mouth before his brain can process the damage they can do.

“Obviously, once the baby comes, I’ll have to take a step back,” Jeff shrugs. “And I’m gonna try to work some overtime before it’s born. Save some extra money, y’know.”

The room had been zapped of joy, and Eddie feeds off of the sullen atmosphere. “Nice commitment to the band,” he sneers. “Glad to see how easily your priorities change.”

“Yeah, man, you should try it sometime,” Jeff snaps. His fists clench, and he looks angry enough to throw a punch. “Maybe you’ll stop acting like an overgrown teenager.”

Eddie’s about to fight back, jaw locked in place and eyes seeing red, but he’s temporarily grounded by the sound of the manager’s tired voice echoing from the ancient sound system.

“Put your hands together for Corroded Coffin!” A smattering of applause signals their cue to enter. Eddie tries to shake off the conflict; it can be resolved after they play. The show must go on, or whatever it was that his high school drama teacher always said.

A balding man with a gruff voice introduces the band as Corroded Coffin. Jess’s eyes go wide; she’s already a few Hideout Specials deep and definitely feeling it.

“Oh, shit!” she laughs with a hiccup. “That’s my sister’s boyfriend’s band!” She motions to the bartender to pour her another drink, but you shake your head and just mouth water. The bartender gives you a knowing nod, probably grateful that she won’t have to be the one dealing with Jess tonight.

“Yeah, that’s Jeff!” Jess continues, pointing at a tall guitarist with tight curls. “He’s the one who knocked up Viv!” She cackles like she just made the most hilarious joke. “I totally forgot they were playing tonight.” She frantically waves at him, and he gives a small head nod in acknowledgment.

Your eyes are drawn to someone else: the lanky, ring-clad man who takes center stage. He grips the mic with black polished nails, smirking out into the crowd as he yells, “Hawkins, how’re we doin’ tonight?” The loudest cheers come from Jess, and you join in, letting out an obnoxious “woooooo!” in response.

The noise draws his attention, and you watch as his smirk shifts to something needier, hungrier, even. His big brown eyes land on you and Jess, leaving you momentarily breathless. He’s absolutely gorgeous, light stubble on his cheeks and above his plush lips. He’s wearing a white V-neck that shows off a dusting of chest hair. His torn black jeans hang low on his hips, accentuated with a studded belt. A gleaming pair of silver handcuffs are clipped to one of the loops.

“All right!” he calls back. “Well, this first one goes out to the pretty girl in the blue dress at the bar. Wait for me after the show, Sweetheart.” He counts out to four, and they launch into a cover of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me.

It doesn’t even register until Jess nudges you, more forcefully than necessary, and says, “Hey, you’re wearing a blue dress!”

Oh.

“Who…who is he?” you ask, feeling a warmth spread through your core that you’re sure isn’t from the alcohol.

“That,” Jess says, leaning on you for balance, “is Eddie Munson. Total freak back in high school, but now he’s just got a reputation for being a freak in the sheets.” She throws you a clumsy wink and adds, “looks like you’ll get to find out for yourself tonight.”

“I’m not really a one-night stand kind of person,” you counter, internally cringing at the memories of your feeble attempts at hooking up, all of which inevitably ended with you pining after them pathetically.

Jess rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she whines, taking note of the way you and Eddie can’t seem to tear your gazes from each other. “Your dad leaves tomorrow, and then you’ll be spending your nights taking care of your grandma. You gotta live a little!”

Plopping back down onto the barstool, you consider her sentiment. It’s true; once your dad goes back home, you’ll be the one helping out in the evenings. And the new school year starts next week, leaving you with little time for yourself.

Your whole life has been spent helping others. You became a teacher to shape young minds and provide them with a safe place to learn and express themselves. You moved to a tiny town in the middle of Indiana to look after your grandma. Even now, you’re babysitting Jess and ensuring she doesn’t dehydrate instead of letting loose and ordering another drink.

“Fine, but only if he brings it up,” you concede. “I’m not gonna be the one to make the first move.”

The band moves on to their next song; it’s either an original or one you’re not familiar with, but you find yourself dancing to the beat. Jess joins you, writhing her body in some kind of drunken jig that has you cackling. You’re having such a great time that you don’t even notice Eddie tripping over a few chords as he watches you sway your hips back and forth.

Corroded Coffin plays for another forty minutes. You recognize some Metallica and Black Sabbath songs, headbanging along until you’re dizzy. The bartender slides you another drink—on the house, she insists—and you sip it eagerly, trying to quell your nerves. Eddie shouts out, “thank you, Hawkins!” and disappears backstage with the rest of the band.

You can’t ignore the dejected pain in your heart, but you muster up a smile and turn to Jess. “Ready to get out of here?”

She shakes her head, putting her palm on the bar to steady herself. “You still have to wait for Eddie,” she teases. “You promised.”

You cock your eyebrow in amusement. “First of all, Drunky McWasted, I didn’t promise anything,” you say, “and second, show’s over and, uh, he’s not here.” You swivel around for emphasis.

“Give him a fucking second, would ya?” The comment doesn’t come from your friend, and you turn around to see Eddie standing behind you. He’s got a towel around the back of his neck, mopping up the sweat from his performance. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and you can see the remnants of kohl eyeliner smudged around his lash line. “Had to clean myself up a little bit, damn.” He smiles, and you feel like you’re going to melt.

Jess interrupts, pushing you closer to him. “Eddie, this is my neighbor.” When you still don’t say anything, too awestruck to introduce yourself, she tells him your name.

Eddie nods, letting his fingers graze yours. “What’d you think of the set?” He grins at the bartender, who gives a small head bob and hands him a whiskey, neat.

“It was good,” you manage, finally finding your voice. “I especially liked the song you dedicated to the pretty girl in the blue dress.” There. You flirted. The rest is up to him.

“Yeah?” He rests his forearm on the bar and leans over to take his glass. “Was kinda hopin’ you would. Soon as I saw you, I knew I had to shoot my shot.” His eyes flit over the low-cut neckline of your dress before he drags his gaze back to your eyes. “You new to Hawkins?”

“Mhm,” you say, watching as he fumbles with a pack of Newports. “I moved here to take care of my grandma.” Good going. Nothing turns a guy on like talking about your elderly relatives.

But Eddie’s unfazed. “Hot and nice? A lethal combo, if I do say so myself.”

“What about you?” you blurt out. “I mean, have you always lived in Hawkins?”

He shrugs. “Been back and forth. Came here when I was nine, left when I was twenty-two, then came back about four years ago.”

“What brought you back? Missed all the excitement?” You laugh and he gives a small smile, but an emotion you can’t pinpoint crosses over his face.

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie mutters, popping a cigarette between his lips. “Wanna go outside an’ have a smoke with me?”

“I’d love to,” you say with an apologetic tone, “but I really don’t wanna leave her alone.” You motion to your friend, who is currently trying to convince the bartender to let her have another drink. But as soon as she hears you using her as an excuse, she waves you off.

“Go,” she insists. “I’ll be fine. ‘M gonna have Jeff take me back home.” She stands on her tiptoes, nearly falling over, flailing both her arms wildly when she spots Jeff in the crowd and shouting, “Jeffy! Jeffy, can you drive me home so these two can have sex?”

You feel your face heat up at her words as Eddie shakes his head incredulously, lips twisting into a cocky grin. The last thing Jeff wants to do after Eddie’s earlier tantrum is help him get laid, but he knows there will be hell to pay if he doesn’t watch after his inebriated sister-in-law-to-be.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbles, carefully looping his arm around her waist and helps her to his car. He appears to deliberately avoid making eye contact with Eddie, though you don’t know why. The two of them seemed to be getting along just fine on stage. The rest of the band leaves with them, carrying various instruments. No one even acknowledges Eddie’s presence.

“Uh, everything okay?” You can’t not pretend you didn’t notice; the tension is far too obvious.

Eddie brushes it off with another shrug. “Guys all got sticks up their asses, I dunno.” He pulls a black Bic lighter from his back pocket and motions towards the door, signaling your cue to walk out with him and drop the conversation.

Chirping crickets and a rowdy group of drunks shouting obscenities at each other punctuates the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Eddie looks at you expectantly, holding out his lighter, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to take out your own pack of cigarettes. A pack of cigarettes that you do not have.

“Oh, I, um, I don’t smoke,” you stammer, biting your tongue in irritation towards your own awkwardness. “I mean, I’ll smoke, like, socially, but I don’t carry cigarettes on me. Sorry.”

“Wanna bum one?” You pluck one from the pack and lean in as he lights it for you. The crisp inhale of tobacco lingers in your lungs for a moment before you breathe out, grateful that you didn’t cough like a middle schooler stealing cigs from her mom’s stash. You take another drag, watching as he does the same. You’d thought that there would be some level of conversation, but Eddie seems perfectly content smoking in silence.

“So,” you finally say, “how long have you been playing guitar?”

He chuckles and pushes his hand through his hair, stopping where it’s gathered into a hair tie. The perspiration on his forehead is starting to dry, but his bangs still stick to it. “Shit, gotta be twenty years now. Damn, I’m fuckin’ old.”

“How old are you?” It comes out more accusing than inquisitive, and you sharply inhale more nicotine to shut yourself up.

“Turned thirty last month.”

“Oh, that’s not old,” you reassure him. “I’m twenty-eight, so…not far behind.”

He doesn’t say anything in response to this. Maybe you’d misread his intentions. Or maybe he’d lost interest after just a few moments alone with you. The pretty girl in the blue dress quickly becomes the lame girl in the blue dress, and you both return home unsatisfied.

You try again, this time saying something that warrants a response. “I just moved here last week, if you have any recommendations of places to go. Restaurants or something?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, ��s pretty boring around here.”

End of conversation.

“Well, I should probably get home,” you say, shifting your weight onto your other foot and stubbing out your cigarette in the nearby ashtray. There’s no sense in wasting anymore time, and the nighttime chill is biting at your bare legs.

“Wait, what?” Eddie practically does a double-take. “I thought…didn’t Viv’s sister say something about…”

Or maybe you’d read the situation correctly after all.

“You still want to?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” He ashes his own cigarette, and the smirk returns to his face. “Your place or mine?”

Considering the fact that your place is currently housing an eighty-year-old woman with declining cognition, and your father, you quickly jump at the offer to go to his home.

You walk with him to his car, a beat-up blue sedan. He opens the passenger door, and you thank him with a tight smile, still not sure what to expect. Maybe he’s just not into small talk, but he seems awfully closed off for a man who’s trying to get laid.

A tangle of tree-shaped air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror; they sway slightly as the two of you plop in your seats. Instinctively, you look behind you as he turns the key in the ignition. Nestled into the far left side of the backseat is a carseat. Cheerio crumbs are wedged in the crevices, and an empty sippy cup leans up against it.

“Is that a carseat?” It’s a dumb question; of course it’s a carseat, but you can’t bring yourself to be more blunt and ask if he has a kid. I mean, the guy couldn’t even tell you a single restaurant to go to.

“Oh. Yeah.” Eddie reaches around, placing a ringed hand on the back of your headrest as he backs out of the spot. He doesn’t elaborate on the matter, just speeds out of the parking lot, so you don’t push it.

The words, I love kids; I’m actually a preschool teacher, linger on your lips, but you bite them back. This is supposed to be casual, a one-night stand; you’re not trying to be anyone’s stepmother.

Eddie flicks on the radio to a metal station–of course–and you sit back and try to enjoy the ride. You can faintly hear him humming along to the music. The fingers on his left hand drum on the steering wheel, while his right hand finds its way to your upper thigh. Fuck, it feels good. He gently squeezes, and the sensation of his cold metal rings combined with his hungry touch makes you involuntarily press your legs together.

“Just wait, Sweetheart,” he laughs. “There’s more where that came from.” It’s probably the most he’s said to you all night, and you consider it a small win. You lean in and gently nip at his earlobe, grinning as he shivers at the contact.

“There’s more where that came from,” you echo, shifting back in your seat. Eddie looks at you, brows raised and forehead creased in amusement, but–big surprise–says nothing. He pulls into an apartment complex parking lot, swinging into the nearest available spot, and kills the engine. Without the music or the steady hum of the ignition, you’re suddenly plunged into complete silence. Are you really doing this? Going to a stranger’s apartment to have sex with him? What if he’s some sort of serial killer? But Jess knows him–sort of–and vouched for him, so he can’t be all bad, right? Although, Ted Bundy had friends, too…

Eddie clearing his throat disrupts your inner monologue, and you glance up at him shyly. “Sorry,” you mutter, though you’re not quite sure what you’re apologizing for.

“No biggie,” he says, like he’s used to women just spacing out in his car before they fuck him. “Um, y’ready to go inside?”

You nod, opening your door and carefully stepping out onto the uneven pavement. You wobble a little in your high heels, but you feel a hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Lemme help you,” he mumbles, lacing his fingers through yours and guiding you to the front door of the building.

The two of you only make it to the stairwell between the first and second floors before he’s pouncing on you, your back against the cold concrete walls. His hands start on your waist, traveling upwards and lightly grazing your breasts before he’s cupping your face. His kisses are hungry, but not sloppy; when his tongue breaches your lips, you let him in without a second thought. He places his knee between your legs, just barely nudging it against your lace thong. “Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away from you and running his tongue over his teeth, “I need you, pretty girl.”

You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. “Can’t get naked until we’re in your apartment.” You pause before whispering in his ear, “and if you thought this dress looked good on me, wait till you see it on your floor.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “‘S just another flight of stairs after this, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand again and leads you to apartment 3C. There are a few Hot Wheels cars scattered on the ground, but he kicks them under the couch without further explanation. He sits down, adjusts his body on the soft beige cushion, and pats his lap. “Your throne,” he says cheekily, exposing tiny dimples on either side of his lips.

Wordlessly, you climb on top of him. Your dress bunches up as you straddle his waist, though that won’t be a problem much longer. You greedily grind your clothed pussy over the rough denim of his fly, sucking on his neck as his strong hands clasp the back of your thighs and pull you closer.

“Needy thing, hmm?” Eddie smirks, chuckling when you feign offense. “Where’re you going? ‘M just teasing you.” He sits up a bit, tugging one dress strap down and kissing the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “Maybe I read it wrong, but…y’look like a girl who likes to be teased,” he says, voice muffled by your skin.

“N-No, I do. Like it,” you stammer, fumbling with the frayed hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. You run your hands over the expanse of pale skin, admiring his tattoos. There’s one of a red guitar pick right above his left pec; without thinking, you kiss it gingerly. He lets out a quiet moan, unzipping your dress and helping you shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, and he nearly chokes on his own tongue when he sees you on display for him.

“Christ, baby,” he groans, “got the most perfect fuckin’ tits I’ve ever seen.” He kisses them and runs his thumbs over your pert nipples before briefly sucking on them. The nickname baby isn’t lost on you, but you try not to read into it.

Still, there’s a sense of satisfaction at the way he’s crumbling literally beneath you, though you can’t help but snarkily say, “bet you say that to all the girls you bring back here.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, sending vibrations through your core. “Only the ones with perfect tits.”

You hate yourself for wondering how many perfect-breasted women there have been.

“Bedroom?” It’s all you can manage, already breathless from dry humping like a goddamn teenager on prom night.

Eddie hesitates before shaking his head, a curl falling loose from the hair tie. “Let’s just, uh, stay out here. Room’s kinda a mess.” The unsure expression on his face hints at another reason, but he quickly distracts you by pushing your panties to the side, slipping his middle finger into your aching cunt. “Holy shit. S’fucking wet already. I knew you were needy.”

“Y-Yes. Need you. Need more.” You’re already stretched out by one finger, but you’re dying to know how a second one feels. The more of him inside you, the better. He obliges, fucking you with his pointer and middle fingers while his thumb makes tiny, hurried circles against your clit. “That’s it, right…right there. Don’t stop; please don’t stop!” He brings you to your orgasm, smirking as you finish all over his fingers.

Your rocking slows, and you reluctantly pull yourself off of him and sink to your knees. He’s unbuckling his belt as fast as he can, and you can’t help but notice the wet spot on his jeans right where you were grinding on his thigh.

Eddie’s pants and plaid boxers are around his ankles in a heartbeat. His hard cock rests against his stomach; a pearly bead of pre-cum leaks from the tip. “Let’s see what that cute little mouth can do, Sweetheart,” he muses, leaning back into the couch with his hands behind his head.

You bite your lower lip. “First I gotta clean you off, yeah?” you ask before licking the tip, tasting him. His length twitches at that minimal contact, which makes you giggle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.” There’s no protesting, so you grasp the base of his shaft with one hand and cup his balls with the other. You suck on the head, circling it with your tongue, before taking as much of the rest of his cock as you can fit into your mouth.

“Mmm, baby, yes,” he growls, inhaling sharply when you gently tug on his balls. “Thas’ a good girl. Play with my fuckin’ balls, just like that.” He bucks up his hips, bringing his cock even further down your throat. “Gag on it, baby. Gag on my big fuckin’ cock.”

He’s not wrong; at least, it’s the biggest of any guy you’ve ever been with. Hollowing out your cheeks, you increase your pace, letting your nose brush against his patch of dark curls. Saliva drips down your chin; you swipe at it clumsily and keep your focus on him.

“Shitshitshitshitshit–FUCK!” Before you can even process what’s happening, Eddie pulls out of you. Thick, hot ropes of cum trickle down his right hand, and he buries his face in his left. You reach for a tissue and hand it to him, and he angrily wipes off his spend.

“Gimme fifteen minutes, and I’ll be good to go,” he says, tossing the used tissue in a nearby wastebasket. He finds the remote tucked behind a couch cushion and clicks on the TV. An episode of Seinfeld comes on. “You’ll do,” he mutters, plopping down next to you and poorly stifling a yawn.

“Sleepy?” you tease, wrapping your naked chest in an itchy wool blanket and curling up. He doesn’t put his arm around you, or make any attempt to cuddle, so neither do you.

“Nah, ‘m fine.” But nearly five minutes later, while Jerry and Elaine argue about God-knows-what, you can hear Eddie softly snoring next to you.

“Eddie,” you whisper. No response, so you try a little louder. “Eddie!”

“Huh? What?”

“I can, uh, I can go now. I’ll call a cab. Just need your address.” You start to get up and head for the phone hanging on the wall, but he puts an arm out to stop you.

“‘S’okay. Stay for a bit, baby.”

Stay for a bit, baby.

It almost feels like you’re taking advantage of him; his curt conversations and closed-off demeanor earlier in the night indicated that he was not looking for someone to sleep over. But now he’s asking you to stick around, resting his head on your shoulder and letting one tattooed arm drape over your waist. You let him stay there, trying your best not to wake him, but you’re forced to reach over him to grab the remote when an infomercial starts blaring.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, half-asleep as he lays down and scoots himself as far back as he can. You follow his lead, pressing your back against his bare chest. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you find yourself drifting off while wrapped in the warm embrace of this handsome stranger.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

You’re startled awake by a loud, unfamiliar noise that doesn’t sound like your alarm clock.

RRRRIIIINNGGG! RRRRIIIINNGGG!

Eddie jolts up, almost knocking you off the couch. “Shit, didn’t think you were still…” He turns towards the ringing sound, still confused. “What time is it?!” His eyes widen as he gets a look at the clock, which reads 7:19. “Shit, shit, shit! Son of a bitch!”

He practically flies off of the couch, sprinting to the phone and bringing the receiver to his ear. “Wayne? Yeah, I’m sorry…overslept. I can be there in ten…no, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just…okay, okay, fine. See you soon.” He hangs up with a clank, turning back to you.

You’re just sitting on the sofa, still wearing nothing but your underwear and the blanket. “Everything…um, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, but he lets out an overwhelmed sigh. “Let me help you find your dress.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but the real meaning behind his words seeps through: you should leave.

You nod, feeling the all-too recognizable lump in your throat. It happens any time these shared intimate moments come to an end; the realization of just how temporary you are in someone’s life is a punch to the stomach.

You find the bunched blue garment behind the couch and slide it over your head. The fabric feels stale and cold against your skin, like it doesn’t belong to you. Eddie’s only wearing his boxers, and you catch yourself staring at the collection of tattoos that trail down his arms and torso.

“Like what you see?” He laughs when you duck your head, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks as he walks towards you. “C’mon, don’t be shy. Not after that little show you put on for me last night.” He leans down, tilting your chin up to him and kissing you softly. “Before you go, leave your number, yeah?”

That makes you roll your eyes. “Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What?”

“Don’t ask for my number if you’re not gonna call,” you say. You sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk to the door. “We don’t have to do the whole song-and-dance. We can just, y’know, leave this as a one-night stand.”

Eddie chuckles incredulously. “You wound me, Sweetheart,” he says. “‘Course I’m gonna call you. How could I not wanna see a girl as beautiful as you again? ‘Sides,” he adds slyly, “We didn’t even get to the best part.”

Begrudgingly, you write your number on a nearby notepad. The phrase don’t get my hopes up for nothing sits on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back.

You’re halfway down the stairwell when you remember that you never called a cab. There’s no way in hell that you’re going to clamber back up to the third floor and ask Eddie to use his phone–and get his address–so you continue down to the lobby payphone and dial Jess’s number.

“H-Hello?” a man’s sleepy voice picks up on the third ring.

“Uh, Jess?” It’s clearly not your neighbor, but you have no idea what else to ask. Did she find some skeezy guy to bring home from the Hideout last night?

“Nah, it’s Jeff. Who’s this?” When you say your name, he hums in acknowledgment. “Oh, yeah. From the bar, right?”

“Yeah…is Jess there?”

He yawns into the receiver. “Last I checked, she was asleep. Finally. She spent half of last night puking her guts up. Everything okay?”

“Mhm. I was just wondering if she could pick me up from…um, from Eddie’s.” You cringe at your admission; the last thing you want is for Eddie’s bandmates to think that you’re some kind of pathetic groupie.

But Jeff seems unfazed. “I’ll be right there.” Before you can protest, he hangs up.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the glass-door reflection. Your hair is a mess, and there’s smudged makeup around your eyes and lips, like a billboard for the walk of shame.

Jeff pulls up a few minutes later, and you bashfully climb into the passenger seat. “Thanks,” you mumble, trying not to let your humiliation show through.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs as he pulls onto the main road, “it’s a special occasion.” When you pinch your eyebrows together in confusion, he laughs. “Ed never lets a girl stay over. Not sure what you did–don’t wanna know, to be honest–but you must’ve made quite the impression.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you say quietly. “We both fell asleep after…yeah. We only woke up when we did because some guy named Wayne called.”

Jeff nods knowingly. “That’s his uncle. He watches his son on Tuesdays when we have our gigs.”

His…son?

Jeff must notice the stunned expression on your face, and his cheeks flush pink. “Shit, he didn’t tell you about Harris?”

“We didn’t do much talking,” you reply wryly. “I’ll have to ask him about that when he calls.”

“Christ,” Jeff shakes his head. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s not gonna call. Never does. Calls it the ‘Cat-and-Mouse.’”

“The what?” Your throat goes bone-dry. You should’ve trusted your intuition, denied giving him your number, left it as a one-time thing.

“He brings a girl back to his place, has sex with her and asks for her number, but doesn’t call. When she shows up to the bar the next week, all insecure and wondering if he’s still interested, he acts like he’s been so busy, apologizes profusely, and strings her along until she catches on. Then it’s onto the next one.”

You feel like your heart’s been ripped out of your chest. Bile burns at the back of your esophagus, and you have to blink back tears. How could you be so stupid, so naive? Didn’t you know by now that guys like Eddie Munson are only after one thing?

The two of you sit in silence until he pulls up to your building. “Thanks,” you say finally, “for the ride and for the warning.” Jeff just nods, watching to make sure you get inside before driving off. As soon as he’s safely down the road, you burst into tears. Angry at Eddie, but mostly angry at yourself.

Eddie watches from his window as you get into a car–Jeff’s car–and leave. Great, he thinks, I’m sure I’ll get my ass handed to me at our next practice for fucking around with his sister-in-law’s friend. If we even still have a band, anyway.

Throwing on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and an undershirt, he makes his way downstairs just as Wayne and Harris arrive. His son is leaping out of his carseat to get to him.

“Daddy!” Harris flashes a gigantic smile. His dark brown curls are a tangled mess atop his head. Eddie unbuckles him and wraps him in a giant hug. He’s losing the chubbiness of his baby fat, but he’s still sweet and cuddly.

“Har-Bear!” Eddie laughs. “Did you say goodbye to Grampa Wayne?” Harris encircles Eddie’s waist with his legs, reaching out his arms to give Wayne a hug through the window.

“Sorry again,” Eddie says sheepishly. “Fell asleep and forgot to set the alarm.”

“Got a job yet? A real one?” Wayne asks stoically, ignoring his nephew’s apology.

A storm cloud washes over Eddie’s face. “I’ve told you a million times: nothing’s going to pay the bills as well as working for Rick.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Get a job,” he says pointedly, pressing a kiss to Harris’s cheek before lowering his voice and growling at Eddie, “and wipe the damn lipstick off your neck, for Chrissake.”

Jeff’s right: Eddie never calls. The home health aid that takes care of your grandma during the day informs you at the end of each shift that week that no one named Eddie called for you. And while you can’t say you’re shocked, it doesn’t do much to quell the hurt.

You spend as much time as you can preparing your classroom for the new school year. By the time you’re finished, the room is decorated to look like a jungle. Stuffed animals of lions, monkeys, and different birds line the shelf tops, which are packed with various books and art supplies. Your walls are decorated with different posters, all of which encourage kids to be their best.

The hustle and bustle of the first day of school helps keep your mind off of your personal life. With a thermos full of hot coffee, you happily introduce yourself to your teaching assistant, Will. He’s a sweet guy, a few years younger than you, and he’s practically bursting with games to teach the kids.

“Before I forget,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “I picked up our roster from the office on my way in. Looks like we have ten kids this year.”

“You’re the best,” you tell him gratefully, and he starts putting tiny chairs around tiny tables.

Being new to town, you don’t expect to recognize any of the names on the list. There’s an Abigail Carver, a Joshua Harrington…

And a Harris Munson.

“No fucking way,” you muse, apparently a bit louder than you’d intended, because Will’s head snaps up and he swivels in your direction. “Sorry.”

The sounds of bubbly giggles and excited chatter filing into the hallway grab your attention. One by one, parents start dropping off their kids, kissing them goodbye. There are tears–some from students, some from parents–and you’re quick to reassure everyone that school will be so much fun.

You’re just grabbing the sign-in sheet for Mr. Carver to fill out when you feel a small thump against your legs. When you look down, you see a curly-haired boy staring up at you with wide, brown eyes.

“This is my classroom!” he says matter-of-factly, pointing to the number 3 on the door. “My name’s Harris. Like the guy from Iron Maiden!” He jumps up and down as he speaks. “Are you my teacher?”

“I am.” You smile and introduce yourself, peering towards the door. “Harris? Did a grown-up drop you off?” And please tell me his name is Wayne, you silently plead.

“Oh, yeah! My dad has my backpack!” He starts running back to the hallway, only to crash right into Eddie.

“Little dude, you can’t be running off like—” Eddie stops mid-sentence when his eyes land on you. “Oh, shit.”

You set your jaw, willing yourself to stay strong. He’s on your turf now.

“Mr. Munson, you need to watch your language,” you warn crossly.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, handing Harris’s backpack to him. “I packed him a snack, um, and a juice box.”

“Okay,” you nod, crouching down to Harris’s eye level and injecting enthusiasm into your voice. “Can you find your cubby? It’s the one with your name on it!”

The little boy bounds over to his assigned spot, hanging his bag on the hook before running over to play with blocks.

Forced to interact with Eddie, you press up on your knees and say, “Pick-up is at two.”

“Can I say goodbye to my kid before you kick me out? Jeez,” he grunts, calling out to Harris with his arms wide open. Harris hugs him, half-heartedly promising to be on his best behavior before starting to race back to the toys.

“We walk in the classroom,” you tell him sweetly. “That way, people don’t hurt each other!” You make a point to look over at Eddie when you say the last part, though his gaze is trained on the classroom posters. Harris, innocent and oblivious, walks hurriedly towards the group of kids playing with blocks.

“Didn’t know you were my kid’s teacher,” Eddie remarks, pressing his tongue into his cheek.

You shrug. “Maybe I would’ve told you if you called me.”

Shooting you the wide eyes that he passed down to his son, Eddie lets his lower lip jut out in a little pout. “I’m so sorry; life’s just been, like, crazy lately—”

“Exactly what Jeff said you’d pull,” you bite back. “Two PM, Mr. Munson.” You walk towards your students to begin circle time, leaving Eddie dumbfounded.

After a long day of wrangling ten four-year-olds, you’re ready to go home and take a nap. The kids are gathered around the table, molding Play-Doh and giggling amongst themselves. By 2:10, everyone’s been picked up. Except for Harris.

“Typical,” you mutter, kneeling next to the boy and smiling sweetly. “Whatcha making, Harris?”

He holds up a lump of the yellow clay. “A dinosaur, see? Roar!” You fake being scared, and he laughs. “Don’t worry; it’s just pretend!”

“Oh, phew!” You wipe imaginary sweat off of your brow. “I was afraid that he was gonna eat me!”

Harris reaches over to where one of the other students had been sitting and plucks a handful of blue Play-Doh off of the table. “Wanna play with me?” He’s looking at you adoringly, and you can’t possibly turn him down.

Just as you’re about to join him, Eddie runs into the room. “Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. Got, uh, caught up with something.”

Harris just shrugs, unaffected by his dad’s tardiness. “S’okay. Look!” He holds up the dinosaur proudly, giving another ferocious roar.

“That’s awesome! And super scary.” Eddie ruffles Harris’s curly hair before looking at you. “Can we talk for a sec? Out there?” he asks, gesturing to the hallway.

You huff out a sigh. “Fine,” you concede, and Will slips into the chair next to Harris.

Eddie closes the door behind him. “Listen,” he begins, twisting his rings around his fingers, ”about the other night…” He trails off, and for a split second, you think he might offer a genuine apology. “I just don’t want this to affect how you treat Harris.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “You really think I treat my students any differently based on whether or not I like their parents?” Crossing your arms, you turn back towards the door, throwing out a pointed, “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Eddie’s voice draws you back into the conversation. “I’ve never had this problem before,” he snorts.

“Excuse me?”

“Most girls love the thrill of the chase. The will-he, won’t-he. Haven’t struck out yet,” he retorts, a smug grin spreading on his face.

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m honored to be the first. I don’t know what girls are into your pathetic games, but I’m certainly not one of them. So, please, just go before you say something else ridiculously stupid.”

Eddie bristles at that, standing a bit straighter and clenching his jaw. “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, twisting the doorknob and punctuating his frustration with, “Frigid bitch.”

He’s just trying to get under your skin, and you refuse to let him get the best of you. You plaster on a well-practiced fake smile. “If you don’t think that this classroom is a good fit for Harris, you can request a transfer with the office.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart,” he snaps, yanking the door open so aggressively that it smacks into the wall. “We’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“Can’t come soon enough.”

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emchant3d · 3 months

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Son of the mafia Steve only it’s his mother’s side of the family, not his dad’s, so he’s far removed from it but just involved enough to reap the benefits of being the only child of the mafia boss’s beloved only daughter.

Stefania Harrington left the family for “true love” against her father’s wishes and she’s too stubborn to go back on it and divorce him, but every time Richard Harrington fucks up she runs to her father and quietly builds a trust fund for her darling son in case her shitty husband really goes through on his threats to cut him off.

She’s the absolute light of her father’s life, she can do no wrong, if she’d just ASKED he would have let her marry Richard, but she was in her rebellious phase and so she ran off with him to some tiny nowhere town in Indiana and now the family has to come to Hawkins to see them.

They aren’t around often - the family is busy, the distance is a lot, his grandfather is getting up there in age and travel can be hard on him, but his visits are some of Steve’s happiest childhood memories.

Steve’s grandfather LOVES him because he’s so much like his mother - sassy and mouthy and remarkably chill with all the crime so long as he doesn’t have to be involved. He’s got a personal vendetta against Richard Harrington because it’s bad enough you took my daughter, now you’re mistreating my grandson? My pride and joy?

He makes not-jokes all the time about Steve just saying the word - “Your uncle can arrange an accident for the man,” he always says, and Steve thinks that’s so dramatic and unnecessary until he hears about how many times Al Munson almost got his son shot and he thinks “my family was right, actually.”

#mine #cannot stop thinking about this i have so many thoughts

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pixiemunsons · 2 years

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baby, baby, baby (sh)

steve's always discovering new things about himself, usually with your help

breeding kink!!! i can't state enough if this isn't ur thing click off because that's all it is. unprotected sex, p in v (f! reader), fingering, discussion of babies and breeding, hint of jancy, rough-ish sex, bit of misogyny surrounding birth control (reader goes on the pill.) one use of the word daddy during sex but not rly daddy kink. no use of y/n, no spoilers, no reader description. steve’s into cringy pet names i don’t make the rules (2.2k words)

a/n; a really lovely reader made it clear to me that some of my language wasn’t POC or plus size friendly. this absolutely wasn’t my intention and i’ve edited this language out to ensure that this is a fic for anyone, as intended. pls let me know if i do make any mistakes like this - being exclusive is absolutely not something i ever intend to be. thank you angels<3

it had started growing in him one day, and he hadn’t felt the end of it since.

a sort of weird, deep urge he felt in his bones, gnawing at him from the inside out and churning his brain and boiling his guts. if he hadn’t known better, he might have called it animalistic. neanderthal. his most base instinct. for months, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else. twisting his mind and driving him crazy.

steve harrington wanted to fuck you full of his babies.

you hadn’t even known you were doing it. how could you? you knew he wanted kids, and a lot of them, but it felt miles off in your mind. when he told you about you and the six kiddos and the camper van, you thought he meant five, maybe even ten years off. so you’d thought nothing of it when your friend liz had asked to come over for a coffee with her almost brand-new baby and you’d spent the afternoon playing with her in front of steve.

he’d seemed a bit more tense than usual, and you thought maybe he was uncomfortable around the baby. you knew he had a relatively small, relatively disconnected family, and the last kid born was more than ten years ago, so he’d never really even been around infants. he seemed to be watching intently as you picked her up, smoothing her tufts of hair back and nuzzling your nose into her hair to absorb her uniquely baby smell. you’d never brought it up though, never thinking much of it. until it started happening more.

you’d see a toddler sticking their tongue out at the grocery store and stick yours back before steve would half drag you away by the arm. you’d mention your hairdresser’s imminent due date, and he’d find a way to change the topic. hell, you’d cooed over the baby in look who’s talking one time and he’d switched the channels, claiming he hated john travolta even though you’d watched saturday night fever with him at least four times. you were starting to get confused. the two of you had talked about kids; why was it becoming such a problem now?

───

‘i got on the pill, y’don’t have to bother with a condom.’

steve stopped stock still. in seven years, he’d never been able to go without. shitty blue state indiana had made contraception for unmarried women a fucking nightmare, and while he really wanted to marry you eventually, he wasn’t about to do it just so he could go raw. steve’d half-hoped he wouldn’t be able to until you were married; he didn’t know what he was capable of if you let him do that to you. but you’d sprung it on him. while you were naked under him and he was halfway to the bedside table, you’d laid a small hand on his arm and looked up at him with that expression on your face he loved so much and stuck out your bottom lip. he’d never said no to you before. how could he ever start now?

‘a-are you sure? y’know i don’t mind, sweetness, i’m happy to wear one.’ he was frowning now, deep lines etching the ordinarily soft skin of his forehead, and you reached a hand up to smooth out the creases.

‘kinda thought you’d be a bit more excited than this, honey.’ you were half-smiling, half-worried, head tilted as you observed steve. you’d known him for fifteen years, been dating him almost half as long. knew him like the back of your hand, knew when he was worried about something, when something was playing on his mind and he just couldn’t shrug it off. he shook his head vehemently, stroking your face with a shaky hand.

’s’not that, babe. i’m really excited, like, really excited. didn’t think we’d be able to do this until- well…’ he trailed off, leaning down to kiss your bare shoulder in a feeble attempt to hide his reddening face from your eyesight.

you sat up a little then, peering down at him. the pill wasn’t even something you’d thought much of until nancy had told you all about it, hush hush over a coffee.

‘it’s changed my life, honestly. everything’s more… regular, and well, you know…’ you’d raised your eyebrows at her to hasten her explanation and she’d blushed bright red and hidden behind her hair when she whispered ‘jonathan loves being able to, like… y’know, do it inside. everything’s so much better in the bedroom.’

you’d left your lunch date hot under the collar, and almost sprinted straight to your family doctor. the idea of being so intimate, so close to steve for the first time ever without having to worry about the consequences excited you.

‘until what, stevie? we can carry on using a condom if you w-‘ steve’s eyes shot open, shaking his head wildly until his hair bounced.

‘no! no, i just.’ he cleared his throat, itching the back of his neck nervously.

‘i’m worried if we do it without, i won’t be able to hold back. the idea of doing that to you, of cumming inside you… it makes me so hard i can’t think.’

his confession left your mouth open and mind whirring, thinking back to the last few months and the way he’d been acting around you and babies and all of a sudden, everything clicked.

‘stevie,’ you cooed, smirking at the expression on his face. ‘you wanna get me pregnant, don’t you?’

a guttural groan broke free from his throat and he lunged forward like a man possessed, capturing your lips with a ferocious heat that had you moaning into his mouth. large, rough hands gripped your stomach, your hips, and squeezed so tight you groaned. steve took his chance, tongue surging into your mouth and licking the top of your mouth, the back of your teeth. he pushed himself up so he was kneeling above you, manhandling you up so you were facing him, knees touching.

‘y’can’t say that to me, baby,’ he looked frantic, still kissing you between words. ‘god, you’re so… so fuckin’… h christ, can’t believe you said that.’ your mind was reeling, all consumed with the idea of it.

‘i’d be lying if i said the thought of trying for a baby with you wasn’t on my mind recently, stevie.’ you looked up at him, eyelashes fluttering, and his fingers dug into your flesh so hard you were sure there’d be bruises the next morning. ‘when liz came over with the baby, y’have no idea how much i wished she was ours.’

steve was totally fucked.

he couldn’t get his breathing under control listening to talking about carrying his babies, and his head was swimming in pictures; you, lying on the beach in a bikini with a cute bump. lying on your front cautiously while steve rubbed your tired back muscles. tying your shoes for you ‘cuz you couldn’t reach over your swollen tummy. most of all though, he couldn’t stop imagining the sight of his cum seeping out from your pretty little pussy, your hips propped up on a pillow, hoping it’d take.

‘think we should?’ he spoke before he could even think about it, and he almost apologised. almost. because when he looked down at your face, instead of seeing shock or disgust, you were fucking smirking up at him. a manicured nail traced its way up through his chest hair, the other hand gripping the back of his neck, and steve felt lightheaded.

‘you gotta be off the pill at least a week before it stops working, you know.’ you cocked your head to the side. ‘doesn’t mean we can’t start practising though.’

steve helped you onto your knees so you were face down, ass up. his favourite, especially when he wanted to go a bit harder, a bit rougher, and the anticipation sent shivers down your spine. behind you, the bed shifted, and the distinctive sound of elastic cracking skin rang out from behind you as steve shed his boxers, the final (and only) barrier left between the two of you.

‘you want me to lube up, baby? i’d ask you to do it with your mouth, but i think i’d bust.’ you laughed together and he grabbed your left hand, intertwining your fingers. no matter what, steve never made you doubt how much he loved you, and small moments of intimacy like this always made you wanna cry every time.

‘just a bit, babe, ‘m ready for you,’ you whined your hips back into him, ass brushing his hairy thighs, and he groaned at the trail of slick you left against his hot skin. reaching into the drawer and, for the first time, straight past the open box of johnnies, steve grabbed the half-empty bottle of lube that lived there. you could hear him squirting it into his hand, slathering it all over his thick cock, all the while muttering away almost mindlessly.

‘you’re gonna be such a good mommy, honey, s’ good for me and our baby. so full of our children, so beautiful and round for me, gonna look after you. gonna be the most gorgeous little family, sweetness.’ he reached down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

‘baby, i really need to just fuck you full,’ he whispered, and you looked over your shoulder at him. there was an almost feral gleam in his eyes, and you swallowed thickly. he pushed two long fingers into you, whining when he found you were already soaking wet and more than ready to take him. you keened your hips back again, pleading, pretty eyelashes fluttering.

‘take me, steve.’

he was up to the base by the time you’d taken a breath, heavy balls resting at the curve of your thighs and ass, and the sensation was like nothing either of you had known before. you could feel every ridge, every vein pumping through his cock, and he felt so warm in you it could have almost been too much. steve had never felt anything so hot, so tight, so unbelievably natural in his whole life, and he had to stop still as soon as he was balls deep lest he cum in seconds.

‘oh fuck,’ he was groaning behind you, legs trapping the bottom half of your body to the bed in an attempt to stop you squirming. ‘this is- jesus christ, this is something else, baby.’ under him, you were desperately trying not to rock your hips back into steve’s. he was so heavy and hard inside you, twitching and leaking precum already and he hadn’t even moved, hadn’t even started to fill you up.

steve’s hips pulled back slowly, leaving just the head still wrapped in you, before plunging back in and starting up a brutal pace. his hands were gripping at your pelvis and your head was buried in the pillow at the head of your bed, fingers reaching behind you to intertwine with his own against the fat of your hips. he thrust particularly hard into one spot that had your mind reeling, almost screaming his name into the pillow and pulling forward from the pleasure of it all. steve chased you, the front of his thighs almost stuck to the back of yours with sweat. by now, he was barely even pulling out, just chasing his own thrusts deep within you as he panted above you, sloppy kisses pressed into the skin at the back of your neck. skilled fingers reached around to your clit, rubbing it in that way only steve ever managed to do it, and your legs felt like jelly under you. if it wasn’t for the way he pressed right up against your hips, you’d be on your front by now, crushed under his weight into the bed.

‘’m really, really close, baby, fuck. c’mon sweetness,’ he was rambling behind you, hips working even quicker to turn you to goo under him, melted into the mattress and taking what he gave you. you could feel it building deep in your stomach, and you just needed something else, something to push you over the edge-

‘cum for me, let’s make me a daddy,’ steve was crying out and you were cumming, thighs clenching and back arching, screams buried into the pillow and teeth clenched so hard your jaw popped. steve wasn’t long behind you; the way you gushed when you came, the vice-like grip on his leaking cock? it was all too much, and for the first time, steve harrington came inside the love of his life, hot and gasping and flashes of you with a baby bump running through his mind. carefully, gently, he pulled out, cock softening against his thigh and then growing half hard again. your pussy was swollen, his cum leaking out of your hole. unthinking, steve reached up to push it back in with two fingers, rubbing your ass with the other hand when you flinched away from the stimulation.

‘sorry, baby, just gotta make sure it takes.’

you rolled onto your back, and he couldn’t help but smile at the way you rolled your eyes at him.

‘told you stevie, gonna be at least a week until i’m all fertile and shit again.’

he flopped on top of you, grinning.

‘i guess we’re gonna have to practise over,’ a kiss to your cheek.

‘and over.’ your shoulder.

‘and over.’ your nose.

‘and over again.’ finally, your lips. ‘i love you.’

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livwritesstuff · 1 month

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Tommy POV, wc: 2890, full version on ao3

Tommy Hagan is not jealous of Eddie Munson.

He’s not.

There’s nothing to be jealous of, in his opinion, and Tommy probably wouldn’t be thinking about him at all if Eddie wasn’t the most publicly well known member of his graduating class – well, he hadn’t actually been in his graduating class, Tommy supposes.

They had been seniors at the same time, though.

If Tommy happened to be jealous of anything – and that’s a big if – it would probably have something to do with the famous thing. Everyone has a small part of them that wants to be famous at least in some capacity, he’s pretty sure, even if Eddie isn’t really, truly famous – not like the red carpet celebrities. He’s a writer. Even the most well known writers never get all that much attention, but Munson has his own Wikipedia page, and that’s more than anybody else from Hawkins, Indiana can say. Hawkins itself barely even has a Wikipedia page, and it’s only because of all the atrocities that happened in town in the mid-eighties.

Tommy hadn’t been around for the end of it all – the earthquake-slash-serial killer situation that never made any sense to him. He remembers his mom calling him at his college dorm when the deaths first started. He remembers her asking, “You went to school with that Munson boy, right? Do you think he could do something like this?”

And Tommy had been twenty and a total moron, so he’d said some dumb shit like, “Yeah, he’s into freaky stuff like that. Somebody should’ve put him on a list ages ago,” even though four years of experience told him that Eddie was all bark, no bite. Tommy hadn’t been surprised at all by the statements that later came out clearing Eddie's name, and by then his parents had already high-tailed it out of Hawkins so it all sort of became irrelevant to him.

Tommy never even returned to Hawkins one single time after he left for college (barring his high school reunion, obviously), and twenty years after graduation, he doesn’t really think about those years all that much.

He doesn’t love the person he’d been in high school. He was whiny and immature and had his priorities all messed up. Most of the memories he has of his teenage years, he looks back at and cringes, feels a whole lot of shame and embarrassment, but also some pride at how much he’s grown over the last twenty years. He also knows he’d been kind of a dick in high school, but that he’s less ashamed of. It’s normal, he knows, for kids to be mean, that it’s a standard response to being untreated kindly in other ways. Like, his dad had been an asshole to him as a kid, always on him about his grades and his smart mouth and how he’d no longer been a standout on any of his sports teams after starting high school, and Tommy had coped with that by poking kids beneath him at school.

It’s just the pecking order of high school. It’s normal.

Even now, when Tommy’s son had dealt with some pricks in the year above him shoving him around, he had come home from school and tormented his little sister for a while – it’s normal, no matter how much his wife had tried to convince him it was something that needed addressing. It’s just kids being kids. They grow out of it eventually, just like Tommy had.

Occasionally he wonders where the kids he’d spent all those years with in the Hawkins public school system had ended up, but these days the internet makes that pretty damn easy to figure out.

He’s learned Tina got married and had kids real young. She still lives in Indiana. Carol, who he’d split up with before heading off to college, lives in Alabama now and she’s got kids and a husband too. Jonathan Byers is a photographer in California – Tommy isn’t into all that art-y crap, so he has no clue if he’s any good, but he definitely recognizes some of the organizations he’s worked for and if that’s any indication, Tommy would wager he’s not too shabby. No wife, though, he noted, so he’d either been right about Byer’s being a queer, or women just found him repulsive (admittedly, Tommy leans more towards the former – he’s a photographer). Tammy Thompson still lives in Tennessee, though it doesn’t seem like she does music anymore (husband, kids, blah blah blah).

If he’s honest, the only person Tommy is actually interested in tracking down is Steve Harrington, and he’s the one person Tommy can’t find a single trace of online. No MySpace, no Facebook, no weird blog thing, nothing.

Vaguely, he wonders if Steve might be dead. A truly massive proportion of Hawkins had died over just a few short years in the mid-eighties. Maybe Harrington was one of them.

Tommy doubts it.

He would have known.

Steve’s parents would have made sure everyone knew if their son had died. Funnily enough, Steve’s mom is actually on Facebook, and pretty actively too, but there’s no sign of Steve anywhere on her page.

He hadn’t even shown up for their high school reunion in the winter of ‘04, which is odd because Tommy had been certain he would.

He doesn’t obsess over it – he really doesn’t. It’s just a thought that pops into his mind every now and then – where the hell is Steve Harrington?

In the late spring of 2007, he gets his answer.

“Tom,” his wife says, “That guy from your high school is on the cover of this magazine.”

He knows without asking for clarity that it’s Munson – no other person makes sense – and when he eventually gets his hands on the magazine, he finds that he’s correct.

Eddie Munson is on the cover of a magazine because, apparently, he published another book.

Truthfully, Tommy already knew that.

It’s his fourth book (which, for the record, Tommy hadn’t known until he knew it because it’s not like he’s keeping tabs on this guy or whatever), and it’s been getting a whole bunch of mainstream attention after a controversial landing on the top of all those book charts Tommy doesn’t follow despite featuring a gay love store amidst all his normal fantasy crap. It sparked a whole debate about banning books and everything (dumb, Tommy knows, because if he learned anything in business school it’s that if you really don’t want something to exist, the best thing you can do is not funnel money and attention into it).

Tommy does, in fact, watch the news so he’d already caught wind of all this – it’s part of the reason he can’t shake the guy – and it’s why Eddie Munson is on the cover of this magazine (because, seriously, nobody gives a shit about writers until it hits the news).

He allows himself a moment to look at the cover, to look at Eddie, who apparently goes by Ed now. Tommy is loath to admit it, but he looks good. His hair is normal and he’s grown into his frame, not all long and lanky and gangly limbs like Tommy remembers from school. He looks well-fed, confident, happy.

He looks good.

Tommy thumbs through the first few pages of the magazine until he reaches Eddie’s interview, and, again, he allows himself to look over the photo of him that takes up nearly three-quarters of the first page even if he has no intention of actually reading the article itself because, again, Eddie looks good (and maybe there’s something about the scruff of facial hair along his jaw that Tommy's eye gets stuck on). Tommy’s allowed to say that men look good when it’s true – it’s 2007, as his wife likes to remind him whenever it’s convenient for her, and if she’s allowed to say that Angelina Jolie looked good in that CIA movie, then Tommy is allowed to say that Eddie Munson looks good here.

When Tommy flips to the next page, he’s met with a photo that stops him in his tracks, has his feet frozen to the floor because –

Jesus Christ, that’s Steve Harrington.

Fuck, okay, so he’s reading this fucking article.

It takes Tommy a long time to get through it, honestly. Eddie comes out in the article, which might be a big deal, might not (and he doesn't care to be enlightened, thanks). He keeps getting distracted by the pictures scattered throughout it.

The pictures of Steve, mostly.

Because, well, if Eddie Munson looks good, Steve…

Steve looks alive.

Tommy didn’t realize it until this exact moment, but Steve had existed in his head for the last two decades as the eighteen-year-old he’d been the last time they were in the same room together. It hadn’t exactly occurred to him that Steve’s been aging this whole time too, just like Tommy has.

It’s undeniable that Steve is older.

His hair is starting to go gray at his temples (it’s the only thing that’s changed about his hair since he’s still styling it the same as he did in high school – because why mess with a good thing, Tommy supposes) and he’s got just the hint of crow's feet around his eyes when he smiles. He’s smiling in all the photos – every damn one – and it has Tommy struck by how unbelievably happy Steve seems. It’s an effect that somehow both takes years off the age Tommy knows he is and shines a light on just how good those years must have been for him.

There’s no solo shots of him like there are for Munson – though according to the article, it's actually Harrington now – and only half the photos are in color. The rest of them – the more candid ones – are smaller and left in black-and-white.

The one that caught Tommy’s eye first – because it was meant to, he’s pretty sure; it takes up half the page – is right in that sweet spot between staged and candid where Steve and Eddie both know that they’re being photographed even though neither of them are actually posing. Eddie is grinning at Steve in a wicked way that still feels familiar to Tommy even two decades since he’d last seen it on him (probably swaggering around the cafeteria like a total jackass – not that Tommy would know anything about that). Steve is grinning right back at him with a smile Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

Or maybe he has, but not on this version of his face, not since Steve was as young as his oldest daughter.

Just as the author of the article said, the photos don’t show the faces of Steve’s children, either leaving them artfully out-of-focus or choosing shots where they’re turned away from the camera, but they’re still present, and it makes the whole spread almost feel like a photo album in a way, like it should be private but instead was published for the whole world to see.

Steve has three of them – kids, Tommy means. He didn’t know that Steve was a family kind of guy. It makes sense though, when he thinks about it. Steve’s parents were kind of a nightmare — present in the worst ways, and absent in the worst ways too (though it hadn’t seemed that way when Tommy was a teenager looking for a failsafe party house). He'd always felt kind of bad for the guy. Like, Tommy's dad had been a total piece of work, but they'd at least been around, and he'd stuck around long enough for them to sort out their issues at least most of the way, and these days he's a pretty kickass grandpa to Tommy's children.

Tommy wonders about Steve's parents now, wonders if they maybe came around like his own parents had, but then he remembers Mrs. Harrington's Facebook page and how there's not a damn trace of her son on there, never mind three grandchildren.

Tommy isn't sure he wants to touch that.

Steve is probably a really good dad, Tommy decides. He’d been kind of that way when they were friends — Steve used to say he wasn’t all that bright, but he always had a freaky sixth sense for reading people, for caring about them in exactly the way they needed.

There's one photo where Steve is managing to holding his youngest daughter — a tiny little baby still — and her bottle in one arm (that's a level-three dad hold, Tommy knows). The bottle is angled in a way that obscures her face, and Steve's other hand is being tugged on by another daughter, this one with a mop of curly brown hair remarkably similar to Eddie's when it was still long.

That's another thing Tommy won't let himself think about, (because he knows if did he'd start wondering if any of those kids were half-Steve).

Anyways, Tommy doesn't need glance to see that Steve wears fatherhood like a favorite sweater.

There’s something about this, about seeing these pictures, about the way Tommy is getting an answer to that question he’s had for years about where his childhood best friend has been all these years, that is making him feel like his ribcage is being split open, bones splintering and shattering as everything vulnerable inside his chest in suddenly out for display.

He probably should feel uncomfortable, right? Like, a guy he’d been seriously close to growing up — sleepovers and gym locker rooms and all that shit — had turned out to be gay. If his own son came home from school saying that his best friend came out or whatever as gay…well, again, it’s 2007, and Tommy doesn’t think his wife would allow him to denounce the friendship entirely, but there certainly wouldn’t be any sleepovers anymore. He thinks that’s pretty reasonable.

What was the likelihood that Steve had been, like, into Tommy?

And that should be an uncomfortable notion too, and in a sense, it kind of is, but not necessarily in the way he would expect.

He just doesn’t understand why all this feels so much like a loss because he knows that he hasn’t really lost anything – not since he got his hands on the magazine, anyways. Steve Harrington hasn’t played any sort of role in Tommy’s life since their final falling out in 1984, and as far as he’s aware, having a falling out with a close friend is pretty much a guaranteed part of growing up. His wife even experienced something similar when her own grade school best friend suddenly stopped answering calls and stopped reaching out after they’d started college – and his wife is basically the nicest person Tommy has ever known, so…it happens to even the best.

It’s just…Steve had always continued to exist in Tommy’s life in a way, even if he wasn't physically present, and maybe Tommy had figured it could be the same for Steve too, that maybe he sometimes wonders where Tommy is, wonders what he’s up to.

This article and these photos makes it pretty fucking clear that Tommy doesn’t even exist in the same galaxy as the life Steve is living.

And that’s not to mention the Eddie fucking Munson of it all.

Tommy had been kind of ignoring the Eddie of it all until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, because he doesn't care about Eddie Munson.

He'd never cared, but he'd spent years seeing the guy's face and his name everywhere, and now it feels like a sick joke, like he's the piece of Steve left in Tommy's life.

If the article is accurate (and he has no reason to believe it isn’t), Steve and Eddie have been together for longer than Tommy has even known his wife. Steve has been with Eddie for longer than Steve was ever friends with Tommy – not by a lot, but still more. That’s a long fucking time, and it’s clear as day on both of their faces that they’re just as in love with each other fourteen years in as they were on day one.

It’s not just Steve, and it’s not just Eddie, and it’s not one more than the other. It’s both of them.

There’s one photo in particular – a small black-and-white one that keeps pulling Tommy’s attention.

It’s another candid shot, taken from a bit of a distance. In it, Steve has Eddie boxed in against the counter in what has to be their kitchen. Eddie is leaning back against the edge of the granite countertop and looking at Steve with something sappy and fond on his face, and Steve’s hands are this close to grabbing Eddie’s waist as he looks at him the exact same way.

It’s shit out of a fairy tale or something, and sure, maybe someone could argue that they’re laying it on thick just for the sake of the magazine or whatever, but Tommy knows Steve Harrington and that look on his face is more real than Tommy had ever seen in all the years he'd known him.

So maybe Tommy has a reason or two (or three or four) to be jealous of Eddie Munson.

#unreliable narrator!tommy hagan my beloved #the ao3 version has the interview btw #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan

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morganbritton132 · 11 months

Note

I love the newer teachers not knowing who Eddie is and visiting Steve at his house and wondering how they can afford such a nice house. I can imagine that they live in a house way above a teachers salary, much less a teacher with presumably, a lot of medical bills. They see gold records hanging on the walls and all of Eddie’s awards on a bookshelf and they are trying to connect the dots to who Eddie is.

David’s first impression of Steve is, admittedly, not great.

He was hired as a long-term substitute halfway through the school year and technically, Mr. Harrington was the only teacher on their floor not to introduce himself to him. They’re supposed to cover the eighth grade lunch period together, but Steve hasn’t shown up once since David was started three days ago.

Instead, the principal covered for him.

Cindy McCullen, the gossipy history teacher across the hall from him, says that it’s because of favoritism. She says that Principal Moreno always lets her favorites run rampant around the school and lets them do whatever they want, especially if they’re tenured. Steve Harrington is the most egregious example of blatant favoritism.

David starts to form an opinion about Mr. Harrington in his mind that only gets worse with every story he hears from Cindy. So, it’s a bit of a shock when Steve shows up for lunch duty the next day with a whole ass service dog.

He feels like an asshole.

Especially because Steve is so apologetic about missing the last three days and leaving David to ‘the wolves’ during his first week, “Is this your first teaching job? I’ve heard from the kids that you’re doing great!”

He makes a conscious effort after that to get to know Steve and to stop letting other people form his opinions for him. Though, admittedly. He kinda fucks that up too.

The first time David meets Eddie, he thinks that he’s Steve’s brother.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t talk about his life outside of work. It’s just that he doesn’t go into a lot a detail. David knows that he’s married to a man, that he’s from Indiana originally, and he might have a kid. Maybe? A girl name Erica that tells him what a brony is and how they ruin everything.

Hell, David’s not even entirely sure he knows what Ozzy is in service of. Steve just said that he bumped his head one too many times and now he has a dog so his husband stops worrying so much.

The only surefire thing that David knows is that Steve has a brother that’s a bit of a dork. He has great hair and is really smart, but lacks tact. Steve loves him. You can tell by the way that he talks about the guy.

So one day, David is in the teacher’s lounge heating up a cup of Easy Mac while Steve is sitting with his head down at one of the tables. He’s about to suggest that Steve go home and sleep off whatever cold he has when a guy with long hair and a leather jacket sticks his head in the room and declares, “You look like shit.”

Steve doesn’t even lift his head when he flips him off which is – whoa, not something that David would expect from Mr. Harrington. He makes himself busy with stirring his mac and cheese while the two bicker with each other which is, admittedly, childish.

Leather Jacket’s main argument for why Steve has to listen to him and go home is because he’s older. Steve croaks out that that is bullshit and Leather Jacket threatens to call their Uncle Wayne if Steve doesn’t listen. He eventually agrees.

Before they leave, Leather Jacket sticks his hand out to David and introduces himself as the cooler Mr. Harrington (that gets a laugh out of Steve).

So, color him shocked when Steve invites their event committee over to his house.

David hasn’t even fully gotten over how nice of a neighborhood Steve lives in on a teacher and retiree’s salary when Leather Jacket gets introduced as Eddie, the husband Steve has mentioned. Then he just casually mentions a red carpet like, what?

And the craziest part is that he’s asked about his husband before!

Steve mentioned once that his husband was out of town and when David asked what he did for work, Steve said that he was retired. He said that his husband can play guitar and that one of their friends (James Hetfield) needed a last minute guitarist for some kind of fair (Coachella) so Eddie went to help out.

He definitely worded it like playing guitar was just a hobby that his husband has, not like. Not like platinum records lining the hallway to their bathroom or the picture of Steve and Eddie in Vegas with KISS stuck to the fridge. He swears the note on the dry erase board by the garage entrance signed ‘Dave’ is in Dave Grohl’s handwriting.

There’s an Grammy on the bookshelf by the fireplace.

Who the hell is Steve Harrington?

Better question: Who the hell is Eddie Munson?

Kathy laughs the entire drive to her house and she is still laughing when he drops her off. The only thing she says that could even be considered an answer is, “I think he’s on Tiktok. Start there.”

#Day 2 of not really answering the prompt #I thought that it’d be funny if Steve was so casual about Eddie’s fame that it comes off like his husband plays Wonderwall in their garage #and then the rest of this was written #I like to imagine that David goes back to school and gossips with the other first year teachers and all try to figure out who Steve is on #their lunch breaks. they all nearly lose it when they find an article about the Starcourt Mall fire and Steve was mentioned in it #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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amatchinwater · 2 years

Text

I Know What You Want From Me / Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary: Song fic of 18 by Anarbor, your parents kick you out when you tell them you can't be with Jason because you're already dating Eddie...except that you aren't. So now you have to go to Eddie after not speaking for years and ask to not only live with him, but pretend to date you too. What could possibly go wrong there?

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, semi-public sex (they're in the woods), squirting, unprotected sex (reader on pill, but not stated until after), cream pie, choking, spanking, protective reader (Jason gets his shit rocked), angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective Eddie, reader's parents are awful

Words: 9746 (oops?)

a/n: I feel like I've been working on this forever and a day. With the finale, I had to stop because angst wasn't something I could handle just yet. But the fluff and ending makes the angst worth it. Requests are still open.

Master list

Part 2

Not my gif!! Credit to the lovely @msmischief101

It’s been a long time since you’ve pulled into Forest Hills Trailer Park. A really long fucking time. Part of you wants to turn around, just get on the highway and never look back at this godforsaken town and their prejudiced beliefs. That having money and a pristine lifestyle makes you worth something. It’s bullshit. And you fucking hate it. And you want out. Hell, your bags are already packed in the backseat behind you.

You’re eighteen, legally, if you really wanted to, you could run. Run as far away from not only Hawkins, but Indiana in general. Now that you’re eighteen, you have a sizable trust fund. Your father wanted to rescind your rights to it. Change it to where you’d only see a penny once you were twenty-one. Or worse; married. Somehow your mother convinced him not to do that, that you’d be able to use the money for college.

You’re not even sure you want to do that either.

But there was one person in your life who told you that no matter what you did, they’d always stick beside you. While that statement hasn’t held true these last six years or so, it was far from it being his fault. No, you shamefully hold that crown.

Once you started to rise up the social ladder in school and your father got a big time promotion at work, your parents forced the social debutant bullshit on you. You hated every single second of it. Every one of those dumb parties they dragged you to. The dinners and get-togethers. They all sucked. And everyone there was so vapid and full of themselves, you wanted to scream.

Now that you’re eighteen and “supposed” to be looking at prestigious colleges for some job you’ll never want, your parents did the worst thing imaginable. They tried to set you up. Quite literally wanted to give you an arranged marriage. God, the look your father gave you like it was supposed to be some wonderful gift you should be grateful for. As if being pawned off to someone like Jason Carver is to be coveted.

Fuck that.

So you did something really stupid. Like, really stupid. You told them that you couldn’t be with Jason because you were already with someone else. You’d hoped it would just be enough to make them drop the issue. It wasn’t. They poked and prodded until you gave them a name. You told them the only person in Hawkins you could even remotely think of.

Eddie Munson.

The conversation with your parents was pretty short after that. Being told to pack your bags and not come back if you wanted to align yourself with “someone like him.” That if you were grown up enough to make your choices, to go live with him and see how long it lasts, and not to come crying to them when you wind up pregnant.

You did exactly that. Grabbed everything you felt couldn’t be replaced and left. But for some reason, instead of just driving towards the town limit and getting the fuck out of dodge, you found yourself on your way to the trailer you used to spend a good chunk of your childhood in.

Because you grew up there. You were once neighbors- something your parents try very hard to forget- and childhood best friends. You used to be on a first name basis with Wayne. And despite what everyone says about him, that he’s a freak or the satanist propaganda, you know Eddie. Knew Eddie. So maybe there was some small part of you that hoped Eddie was still that sweet kid at heart and would let you crash for a few months until graduation and then you could leave Hawkins for good.

It was a stupid idea from the start. One not fully formulated or even properly processed.

But here you are, pulling up to the familiar, yet foreign trailer with Eddie’s van parked right out front. And of course it’s pouring rain. The day your life goes to shit wouldn’t be a nice, calm evening. No. When have you ever been that lucky? When is anyone that lucky?

Turning the engine off, you sit and listen to the rain patter against the roof of your car. Contemplating leaving again. Maybe the real reason you came here was so that you would be convinced to stay. Eddie has never been one to run from his problems. The bloody nose he gave Jason a year ago for taking a swing on him is proof of that. So maybe you really want someone to tell you to man the fuck up and grab life by the balls or some shit.

Just some strange words that manage to sound inspiring because they’re coming from Eddie’s goofy grin.

“Fuck it,” you grind your teeth, shoving your door open and stepping out into the storm, wincing when the freezing water sinks into your skin. “Shit, shit, shit,” you jog up to his front door, thankful for the awning over the porch. Not letting yourself be talked out of this, you pound on the door to be heard over Shout at the Devil being blasted from Eddie’s room.

“Henderson, I already told you-” Eddie’s yelling as he yanks open the front door, “-you’re not Henderson.”

“No,” you shiver, hands rubbing your arms. How did you possibly get drenched in the ten steps it took you to get from the car to his door? Eddie’s features are guarded and you can’t help but shiver again. From the cold or his stare, you’re not really sure. Maybe you should just leave. The highway is sounding more and more tempting. “I should just-” you trail off, gesturing back towards your car.

Eddie finally takes a look at your state and his eyes widen, furrowed eyebrows losing their tension, “no, come in,” he opens the door further. “I-I’ll get you a towel,” Eddie runs off.

Shaky bones carry you over the threshold, goosebumps only getting angrier at the warmth of the trailer. It looks exactly like it did the last time you were here. Except maybe a few more hats have joined the collection on the wall. Eddie comes back with two towels, placing one on the couch and offering you the other. “Thanks,” you take it, toweling your hair before wrapping it around your shoulders, sitting on the one he’d set down for you. “I’m sorry to just barge in like this,” your eyes begin to burn with tears.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Eddie sits beside you and you can practically feel his warmth radiating off of him. That's how cold you are.

“I did something really stupid,” you admit, shaking your head, wanting to curl up in a hole. “My parents want to hand me over to Jason. Pretty bow and everything,” you choke out a laugh. “Like I’m some prized trophy wife or some shit.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie nearly shouts. You laugh sarcastically, nodding your head. His face twists, “but hang on, that’s a stupid thing they did. What stupid thing did you do?”

You fiddle with the fraying corner of the towel, dropping your gaze to your lap, “I told them that I couldn’t be with Jason.”

“That doesn’t seem stu-”

“Because I’m in a relationship with you,” you pull your head back up, meeting deer in the headlight brown eyes and a slack jaw. Nerves make your tongue ramble, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I told them that. You were the first person that came to mind when they wouldn’t stop asking me who could be more important than Jason. And I just- I didn’t know what to do. So I just thought- I don’t know what I thought. But w-we used to be best friends once, I-”

“Yeah, once,” Eddie tongue in cheek scoffs, “then you got popular and I didn’t matter anymore. So, what? You thought you would just come here and I would live up to this fantasy relationship? Because it’s you?”

Your head drops again, “they told me if I wanted to be with you that badly that I should go live with you. That they didn’t recognize their daughter anymore. They kicked me out, or maybe I just ran. I don’t know, Eddie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.” Tears spill from your eyes, when you look back up at him, “I’ll just get back in the car and leave town like I should’ve done in the first place. I’m sorry,” you take the towel off your shoulders and place it in his lap, getting up off the couch.

You make it all of three steps until Eddie’s hand wraps around your wrist, “wait.” He sighs as you turn to face him. “Let me get this straight, you told your parents you were dating me because I was the only person you could think of that was better than Jason?”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff, “well, duh.” It might have been instinct that made you say it, doesn’t make it any less true. Jason doesn’t hold a candle to Eddie in any situation. Not to you. Years of separation be damned.

“And you now have nowhere to live?” You shake your head no. Eddie sighs again, “I’ll do it.”

“W-what?” You ask. Because surely you heard him wrong. Eddie doesn’t owe you a fucking thing. “What do you mean you’ll do it?”

“I’ll help you keep this facade that we’re dating for the sake of your parents and Jason,” he sneers at the name. “Move in here with me, Wayne won’t mind. He still asks about you from time to time, I’m sure he’d love the idea. And then, when you graduate, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

Blinking rapidly, you nearly stumble backwards. Shocked that Eddie would do this. “Why?”

“Your parents are assholes,” Eddie laughs and you do too. He’s far from wrong. “Pissing them off by pretending to date you and giving you a safe place to live? Fuck yeah, I’ll do it. Besides, I’m sure if they told you about it, Jason already knows. Which means I get to make that asshole jealous. It’s a win-win.” He laughs again, softer this time along with his smile. “And you’re right. We were best friends once, maybe we could be again.”

“I really don’t give a fuck what Jason or my parents think, Eddie. I’m just sick of them thinking that they can control me,” you tell him. “But if giving them the finger is enough incentive for you, then I appreciate it. For what it’s worth, I really miss having you as my best friend.”

“Me too,” he smiles, pulling you into a hug. “How about you go take a shower and I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Booze free this time,” Eddie chuckles.

You laugh, remembering when you were younger and neither of you thought Wayne would notice the vodka two twelve year olds put in their drinks. “Honestly, I probably wouldn’t mind it this time around,” you pull away.

“Comin' right up,” Eddie grins, heading into the kitchen while you go down the hallway.

Stopping at the bathroom you poke your head around the corner, “hey, Eds.” He stops humming, milk hoovering the pot, quirking an eyebrow at you. “Thank you,” you smile, tucking into the bathroom to shower off before he can answer.

—

At school the next day, you’re not really sure what to expect. Eddie drove you in his van and you were given more than a few looks from people you don’t even know. Which were thankfully easy enough to ignore. Somehow you’re also lucky enough that all of your classes before lunch didn’t have a single one of your “friends” either. Friends meaning Jason’s friends who were nice to you because you had money and a pretty face.

But your actual lunch period? Practically the entire basketball team shared the same block as you. And the second you walk out of the lunch line, Jason immediately finds you. You’re wearing darker clothes and have certainly kept your head down. How the fuck did he find you so fast?

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he smiles with too much teeth. Voice so sweet it’s sickening.

“Should’ve hid better,” you mumble, clutching your tray to your chest to keep a barrier between the two of you. “Did you need something?” You ask, eyes scanning the room to find literally anyone you could run to to save you from this. You find Eddie’s friends from Hellfire all around the table, but no sign of Eddie himself. You know their names thanks to Eddie telling you about them last night. But you don’t really think you can just go up to them for help.

“Well, I was talking to your parents the other day,” he pushes his hands farther into his letterman jacket pockets, ducking his head to appear coy. “I was hoping you’d like to go on a date with-”

An arm snakes around your waist and you nearly jump out of your skin, until you hear, “there you are, babe.” Eddie curls you close to him, kissing the side of your head, “you ready to go sit?”

You turn to him with a grateful smile, ready to answer, but someone else’s words come out.

“What the fuck is this?” Jason snaps.

“I’m sure you know Eddie,” you smile sweetly, fighting the eye roll at the jock before you. “My boyfriend,” you state, loving the way Jason’s eyes are ready to bulge out of his head. Eddie chuckles smugly beside you, his grip tightening only just. You’re actually glad he’s getting something out of this too. Even if it’s just shoving it in Jason’s face. Makes it feel like you’re not using him.

“I thought they were joking!” Jason seethes, “you’re seriously with this freak? You chose him over me? A freak?”

“Eds, could you hold this please?” You extend your tray towards him, which he takes with a confused expression. “Thanks,” you kiss his cheek, turning your attention back to the blonde. “One, no, it’s not a fucking joke. Two, he’s not a freak. And three,” you slap Jason right across the cheek with a resounding crack, silencing the cafeteria. “If I hear you say some shit like that about him again, you’ll be lucky a slap is all you get. Fuck off, Jason.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie sputters a laugh, “that was fucking awesome!” Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, Eddie walks you towards the Hellfire table, neither of you caring about the grumbling jock behind you. Or the hushed chatter that’s fallen over the cafeteria. “And here I thought I was the one coming to your rescue,” he teases, placing your tray on the table surrounded by his wide eyed friends. “Come here,” Eddie sits down, his arms locking around your waist to pull you into his lap. “Thank you.”

“I’m your girlfriend, Eddie,” you remind him. Though it’s just for show, it doesn't mean that you’re not going to act the way a proper girlfriend should. Defending your boyfriend from an asshole definitely fits the bill. “I’m not going to stand by and let someone talk about you like that.”

“So I definitely heard that right?” Dustin, if you remember correctly, stares at you two. “You two are dating? Since when?” He shrieks.

You freeze for a second, you hadn’t thought that through.

“For a few months now,” Eddie offers, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on your waist. “Her parents are pretty strict," he rests his chin on your shoulder, humming in contemplation, "so we’ve been keeping it quiet for a bit. But, she was ready to go public with it.”

“Slapping Carver in front of the whole cafeteria is pretty public,” Jeff laughs, “and pretty sick!” He offers his fist to you.

You can’t help but laugh, feeling welcome at their table as you reciprocate the fist bump. It’s actually really nice.

“My girl doesn’t mess around,” Eddie turns, kissing your neck.

Maybe you two should’ve gone over some boundaries. Because that felt a lot better than it should’ve and you two aren’t even technically together. But then you remember that everyone is supposed to believe this so that Jason and your parents leave you alone. If even anyone suspects it’s not and word gets out that this isn’t real- you shiver at the very thought. And the way Eddie said ‘my girl’ sent a whole different kind of tremor down your spine.

What have you gotten yourself into?

—

Somehow you managed to survive the first two weeks of publicly “dating” Eddie. Jason for the most part has left you alone and you haven’t seen or heard from your parents either. It’s so freeing. It makes you wish that you had stuck to your guns when you guys had moved out of the trailer park and kept Eddie in your life. Even listening to them and doing everything they wanted, they still turned around and did the worst thing imaginable. So what else could they have really done if you’d stuck by Eddie’s side the whole time?

It’s too late to know now, but at least you can make up for the lost time by being here now. Eddie doesn’t seem to mind it. The dinners you share while Wayne is at work. The hasty breakfasts the three of you share in the mornings before school. The weekends though, the weekends are your favorite. Because unless Corroded Coffin has a gig, you and Eddie just hang out at the trailer together.

“What did you wanna do today?” You ask, flopping down on the couch beside Eddie and throwing your legs on his lap.

Rubbing your exposed calves, he purses his lips, “I was thinking I should probably take you on a date.” Eddie leans his head on the backrest of the couch to look at you. “You’ve been living here for two weeks now. While it’s all good and well that we’ve been annoying the living hell out of Jason at school, you know how people in this town love to gossip.”

“Okay,” you draw out the word, furrowing your brows. Not really understanding why Eddie is willingly wanting to be with you romantically outside of school. That would make this feel real. You’d definitely feel like you were using him if you did that.

“If people see us walking around town together, I’m sure word would get back to your parents.” Eddie pats your leg, “Jason isn’t the only one we’re supposed to be convincing, right?”

He’s got a point. If your parents get a whiff of this relationship’s fallacies, they’ll drag you back home kicking and screaming. “What’d you have in mind?” You ask, warming up to the idea quickly.

“There’s a double-feature of Nightmare on Elm Street at the theater tonight,” he shrugs, tracing shapeless designs on your skin. “We could do that and then walk around town with ice cream or some shit. That’s a couple-y thing to do, right?”

You smile brightly, basking in his shyness. “That sounds really nice, Eds,’ you nudge him with your foot. “Most girls would swoon over a date like that. Well, they’d fight for some romantic movie. But I’m so down for Freddy. When does it start?”

“About an hour.”

“I’ll go get ready!” You hop up from the couch, practically running out of the living room, leaving Eddie chuckling on the couch.

“Thank you,” you hear Eddie say, grabbing your ice cream cones from the girl behind the window of the cute little ice cream shop in town. “M’Lady,” he offers you your chocolate peanut butter scoops, holding his now free hand out for you to hold while you walk back to the van. He’d left it parked by the theater so you could have the whole ‘experience’ of a date. Eddie is just as serious as you are about making this seem real.

He’d even apologized to you for the neck kiss and you sitting in his lap. Explaining to you that he’s a pretty tactile person, that he’s only acting how he would if he was actually dating someone. He was adamant in you telling him if he makes you uncomfortable- he doesn't. Your heart throbbed painfully in your chest that you’re keeping some girl from being in an amazing relationship with such a sweet guy. Even more so when there’s an even worse pang at the thought that you don’t have this for real for yourself either. That this thing you have going with Eddie is fake.

There’s this small part of you wondering if this could be real.

“Thanks,” you smile, taking his hand, licking the creamy goodness. Eddie laughs a little at you while you’re walking and eating your desserts. “What?” You ask, licking your lips.

“You got a little-” Eddie gestures towards your face. A group of girls walk past you arm in arm and Eddie smiles, “here, let me.” He leans in and kisses you, tongue brushing along your bottom lip for the smallest of seconds. Enough to send a shiver down your spine that certainly can’t be explained by the ice cream when his mouth is so warm. “Better,” he grins again, dragging his thumb from the corner of your mouth.

There’s a blush violently burning your cheeks as you blink rapidly. You don’t even know what to say, so you turn your head, biting away a smile and reclaiming his hand to walk down the road again. “Thank you for tonight,” you say, tossing your napkin in the trash as you pass it. “It-” you pause, thinking you heard someone call your name. Shaking it off you try again, “it was really nice. So, thank you.”

“Of course,” he drops your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side. Kissing the side of your head, Eddie says, “I’m glad you had a good time. Enough people are out tonight so-”

“Y/N!”

You definitely heard it that time. Eddie did too. Whipping around, you see your parents stalking their way towards the two of you. Speak of the devil, right? “Fuck,” you curse under your breath, anxiety stowing only just at the protective way Eddie tightens his hold around you.

“Say the word and we run, okay?” He whispers in your ear, "I've got you."

All you can do is nod as your parents come to a halt in front of you. Your father barely even looking at you, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Your mom on the other hand can’t decide who to set her daggers for eyes on, you or Eddie.

“Mrs-”

“Don’t.” Your mother holds her finger up at him, “you don’t get to talk.”

“Excuse me?” You sputter out.

“And you,” she sets her fury on you now, “it’s time for you to come home young lady. Enough playing house with him,” you mom can’t even say his name, yet the word holds the same amount of venom. “This isn’t you. Please, just come home and all will be forgiven.”

Anger boils inside of you. Not asking how you are or caring if you’re happy. Just more of them telling you that you’re ‘not yourself’ and you’re so over it. “Fuck that,” you snap. “I’m not going anywhere with you. My home is with Eddie. Yeah, he has a name, mom,” you lace the word with as much disdain as she’d offered him. Shocking her to her core not only from your language, but your behavior. Good. You finally feel like yourself.

“Then we’ll cut you off,” your dad’s stern voice cuts in. “See how long it takes you to come crawling back with no money.”

“First of all,” you square your shoulders, “both Eddie and Wayne make money. Second,” you chuckle dryly, “you’re really going to love this. I went to the bank. I’m eighteen now in case you forgot. I transferred everything into my own account. That money is mine. But if it means more to you than your own daughter, I’ll gladly give it back. I can very easily get a job. I don’t need anything from you.”

Your father puffs his chest, “listen here-”

“No, I think it’s time you listen,” Eddie cuts him off. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with her or how she chooses to live her life. She is fucking incredible! And there's definitely no thanks to you fucking assholes. She’s an adult and capable of making her own decisions. And unlike you, I’d never hurt her or force her to do something she doesn’t want to. You want to stay with me, right?” He looks over at you.

It’s rhetorical, you're almost certain. But you answer it anyway, “absolutely.”

“There is it,” Eddie grins widely, opening his arms at your parents. “She’s made her choice.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you pull gently on Eddie’s jacket, trying to coax him away. Eddie death glares at your father, but starts moving with you, only turning once you’ve yanked a little harder.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Your father snaps, his hand grabbing your arm tight enough to hurt.

You whip your head around to face him, seething, “let go of me.” Eddie looks furious, ready to punch him in the face and honestly, you’d probably let him. But that’s more of a scene than you’re willing to cause right now. You won’t let Eddie get in trouble over you. When your dad makes no move to let go of you, you say, “let me go or I’ll scream.”

He drops your arm as though it’d burned him, whispering your name with hurt eyes.

“Come on, princess,” Eddie’s arm curls back around your shoulders, keeping you close. No longer face to face with your parents, your chest tightens and your eyes burn. Not because you miss them, but all of your emotions have boiled over, demanding release through tears. “Wait just a minute more,” Eddie rubs his nose in your hair, “don’t give them the satisfaction.” He opens the passenger door for you and you crawl inside.

The second he’s settled in his seat, the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry they said that to you,” you sob, chest constricting.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” He stares at you wide eyed, speaking softly. “I should’ve punched him in the face for what he said to you, are you kidding?” Eddie reaches over, cupping your face and wiping your tears with his thumbs. “No one should talk about you like that. Especially not your parents.”

“Can we just go home please?” You ask, hoping sheer willpower will make your tears cease. Your eyes already feel sore.

“Of course,” he rubs your cheeks again, leaning closer to kiss your forehead. “Here,” Eddie pulls his leather jacket off, handing it to you, “you’re shaking.”

You smile softly, sliding your arms through the sleeves, the scent of Eddie so close calming you down enough that the tears well up, but don’t fall. It’s one thing to defend Eddie from some dickhead jock like Jason. Watching him stand up for you to your own parents, treating you vastly better than they ever have? Heartwarming doesn’t even come close.

—

“Do you need anything?” Eddie asks after you’ve showered and are just sitting up in bed, he’s changed into sweats now and a faded Metallica shirt.

“Not unless you have something that can make my mind be quiet long enough to let me sleep,” you answer, curling your legs to your chest and holding them.

Eddie purses his lips, “I could roll us a joint,” he offers. “I usually smoke before going to sleep. It could help. Only if you want to.”

“I’ve never smoked before,” you whisper, embarrassed by the fact that you’re ‘dating’ a drug dealer, yet have never done any yourself. “But I trust you,” you try to smile, but it falls flat. Still a little too upset over earlier. “I’m willing to try if you think it will help.”

“Best sleep you’ve had in a while,” Eddie smiles, walking over to his dresser, grabbing a wooden box from the drawer. “Are you sure?” He asks one more time, sitting down beside you, “I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you or anything.”

“You’re not,” your smile is genuine this time, “I’m sure.” You stare at his fingers while Eddie pinches the weed into the thin paper. If you weren’t so upset, your brain would probably short circuit at the way his tongue glides along the edge. That shouldn’t be allowed to look like that.

After he takes two puffs of his own, he hands the joint to you, blowing the smoke out. “You might want to take small hits,” Eddie suggests when you bring the rolled paper to your lips. “Small hits,” he repeats, hopping up from the bed, “I’m gonna get us a drink real quick. Small,” Eddie enunciates.

You don’t really know what’s considered a small hit, so you inhale maybe halfway, doing your best to hold the smoke in your lungs before letting it out. A cough bubbles in your chest that burns nearly as much as the weed. Eddie comes back just in time with a can of soda for you. Cracking it open with a fond smile on his lips, he tosses some snacks on the bed beside you. “Not as bad as I thought,” you say after taking a sip. You take another hit, handing it back to Eddie once he’s seated.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asks, squinting around the smoke trying to go in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, you prop yourself on the wall beside the bed, “I think so? I’m not even sure why I cried to be honest. They suck and I don’t know why I expected them to react any differently than that. I’m more angry about the way they treated you.” You take the joint back from him, Eddie scooting over until your thighs and arms are pressed together. Pulling the smoke into your lungs, you appreciate it not burning as badly as the first time around. Enough to take a bigger hit, “this is definitely helping. So are you,” you whisper.

Eddie nudges you with his arm, “happy to help. You’re my best friend and I’m always going to be here to take care of you. Until you get sick of me that is,” he teases.

Laughter bubbles in your chest, your cheeks hurting from how much you're smiling. Whether that’s the weed or just Eddie in general doesn’t really matter to you. “Aww,” you coo, absolutely certain that your newfound confidence is from the drug, “I don’t think I could get sick of you, Eddie.” You tell him, playing with a lock of his hair, surprised when he doesn’t tell you to stop. “I’m really grateful for everything you’re doing. And I meant it, I don’t expect you and Wayne to take care of me for free. I’ll get a job if it comes down to it.”

“Please,” he snickers, handing the roach to you to finish off, “Wayne is overjoyed that you’re here.” Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder and you tuck your head into his neck. “If there was mention of you leaving, he’d probably pay you to stay. He really did miss having you around. I think he secretly always wanted a daughter.” He takes the almost burnt paper and places it in the ashtray by the bed.

“But he got the metal head outcast with a heart of gold instead,” you smile though he can’t see it. “Just-” you huff a small breath, “thank you, Eddie. For everything.”

Eddie kisses the side of your head, “of course, princess.” Too high to care, you giggle at the name shooting warmth throughout your system, but it’s broken off with a loud yawn. “Looks like I’ve done my job,” he chuckles softly, “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

You lay down on the pillow, pulling the blanket over you, but when Eddie tries to get up, you reach out and grab his hand. “Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He whispers, soft eyes looking over your tired face.

“Could you-” you swallow the barrier in your throat in the form of nerves. “Will you stay with me? I don’t really want to be alone right now,” your voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie smiles softly, his thumb brushing along your knuckles, “yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He lets go of your hand so you can move over to give him some room to lay down beside you. The moment his back touches the bed, you curl up to him, resting your head on his chest. A contented sigh sounding off listening to his heartbeat in your ear, along with a dopey smile on your face. “Better?” He teases, though his arms wrap around you, one hand rubbing your back while the other plays with your hair.

“Thank you,” you mumble, already falling asleep.

—

Controlling your emotions seems to get harder and harder the longer this plays out. Having Eddie back in your life is honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you couldn’t be more grateful for him. Not just for having him as your best friend again. But over the last month and half, your heart thought it would be a really good idea to evacuate your chest and take home inside his. Graduation was supposed to be the light at the end of the tunnel. Now it just seems like an ominous deadline.

The day you lose Eddie.

You’re far from ready for that. In fact, being with Eddie, actually being with Eddie, doesn’t seem like all that bad of an idea. But this was supposed to be temporary, even for him. How in the hell are you supposed to propose that? It’s not like Eddie has shown you any hint that he’d want this to be anything but an act. At home, he’s just your friend. Aside from getting high together, he sleeps on the couch so that you can have the bed.

What you should be focusing on is the book in your hands while the group plays through their session. But your eyes keep trailing back to the head of the table. Eddie, Dungeon Master himself, sitting on his throne while having the time of his life. He truly is a novelty to watch like this. Carefree and enjoying himself. It’s amazing.

“NO!” Dustin yells, startling Pet Semetery right out of your hands.

Usually you’re better at not jumping from their antics, but the teen does not sound happy. Meanwhile Eddie is cackling and knocks a piece off the board. Flicking your eyes around the table, you notice it was the last piece standing aside from the one indicating the monster the group had been fighting. They lost.

“Another ruthless, unbeatable campaign?” You muse, looking at your thrilled ‘boyfriend’ while everyone gathers their things to leave.

“Always, princess,” Eddie bounds over to you, leaning on the armrests of your chair, “always.” The doors close, leaving you two alone. “Don’t act like you didn’t help.”

Narrowing your eyes playfully, you look up at him, “yeah, I thought they’d at least have a chance though.”

“You’re far too devious for anyone to stand a chance,” Eddie closes the distance and kisses you.

Instinct and pure want for him, you kiss back for a moment. Pulling away with immense effort, speaking with a small voice, “no one’s here, Eds,” you whisper. “You don’t have to act like you want to kiss me,” you say, trying to gauge how he might feel about the situation. He just kissed you after you both heard the doors close. But you also don’t want to get your hopes up too high either. That there could be a reality where Eddie wants to be with you for real too.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, his face unreadable, “you’re right. Sorry,” he clears his throat again, “let’s go home.”

When you grab your book and stand up, Eddie heads for the door, keeping a step or two of distance between you. Is this just how he would act if you guys weren’t pretending to be together? Because when you’re alone, he’s not this cold. Silent. Or did what you say upset him?

Even when you make it to his van and he opens the door for you and you mutter, “thanks,” all Eddie does is offer a pinched smile.

His silence continues the entire drive home. Eddie doesn’t even sing along to the music he plays. Nor does he drum his hands on the steering wheel. It’s putting you on edge and you want to say something so badly. But you also don’t want to risk actually pissing him off either. So, you follow his lead. Not saying a word while he drives you both home.

Things don’t get much brighter from then on either. Eddie follows you into the bedroom, grabs his acoustic guitar, and goes right back into the living room. You are absolutely not going to sit in bed and cry about change in behavior. Not at all. You’re going to do it in the shower so there’s no chance of Eddie hearing you, like a smart person.

Smart, right.

If you were so smart you’d tell Eddie how you really feel.

—

“Are you coming to band practice today?” Eddie asks you while you’re putting some mascara on in the bathroom. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” he scratches the back of his head, “the guys do love it when you come though.”

“Just the guys?” The teased question spills from your lips before you’d even had a chance to filter them out. But it’s out in the air now.

Eddie grins for the smallest of seconds, “I like when you watch us too. You actually give us honest opinions. Will you come?”

“Can you give me two more minutes?” You ask, waving the mascara brush around, “I’m almost done.”

“Take your time,” he smiles, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, “I’ll be out in the van.”

Quickly, you finish your makeup and go back into the room to get your shoes on. Not wanting to wear a bra, you find one of Eddie’s hoodies and throw it on over your thin shirt. You’ve never seen him wear it, but his spicy cologne rests on the fabric. You allow yourself a moment to bring to sleeves that barely let your fingers peek out of it to your nose to breathe him in. The cologne, the smoke, the very essence of Eddie. Pretending that his arms are wrapped around you instead of his clothes.

Not wanting to take too long, you snatch the book off the bed and run out the trailer to meet Eddie in the van.

You sit through the covers of Iron Maiden and Motley Crue while you read your book. They’re actually really good and you do enjoy listening to them. It’s always nice to see Eddie in his element. Happy and perfectly himself. It isn’t until he mentions something about playing a new one that you start to pay attention a little more. It’s different from what they usually play, and has to be an original because you don’t recognize it either and can’t imagine any other voice than Eddie’s singing it.

Then the chorus hits, and they have your full attention.

“So if you wanna piss off your parents, date me to scare them, show them you’re all grown up,” Eddie sings, his words the night you ran to him echoing in your head alongside the lyrics. “If long hair and tattoos are what attract you, baby, then you’re in luck.”

Eddie wrote a song about you. Eddie wrote a fucking song about you! But your eyebrows furrow, because it doesn’t sound all that nice, to be honest. Like he’s letting his frustration out through it. You told him you didn’t care about what your parents thought, assuming that was just the incentive for him going through with this.

“You know, I’m broke, so you pulled out your Daddy’s card,” he continues with the song. The memory of you two grocery shopping together flickering in your brain.

You had wanted to make dinner for him one night as a thank you, but couldn’t find much in his kitchen. He’d told you Wayne didn’t get paid until the weekend and that all his money from dealing went to take out. You promptly dragged him to the store and bought enough food to stock the entire kitchen. Yes, you even made sure he- and you when you chose to partake- had plenty of munchies around too.

“Should’ve seen this coming from a mile away,” Eddie hasn’t looked at you once the entire time he sings. The rest of the guys just seem to be jamming out. Except Gareth, his face starts to twist, something mixed with confusion and understanding, his drumsticks almost falter. “I’ll play your game. I know what you want from me.”

But this- this isn’t a game to you. Eddie isn’t a game to you. In its bones, it’s a great song. But your eyes are burning. Blurring with tears as the song goes on. Every lyric a knife to your heart.

“And I know it’s just a phase, you’re not in love with me,” Eddie finally looks at you as a tear falls from your eye. You quickly wipe it away, seeing the same pain reflected in his big, brown eyes. “And I know it’s just a phase, you’re not in love with me. You wanna piss off your parents, baby. Piss off your parents, that’s alright with me.”

The song ends and you hastily wipe the rest of your tears away, ducking your head back into your book so the rest of the guys don’t notice them. It’s bad enough that Eddie saw them. You knew you should’ve said something to him last night when he kissed you. You fucking knew it. And now you’ve hurt him. Hurt Eddie enough that he wrote a song to express himself. You feel like the biggest jerk there is.

—

Something told you that you needed to drive yourself to school today. Eddie didn’t question it. You guys had another silent night at home. Didn’t talk about the song or confess your love to him. But you did decide that you will be doing that today. You just needed to have a moment to sort the words in your head into cohesive sentences.

Then lunch rolled around and Eddie mentioned he’d be meeting Jason in the woods after school to sell to him. That sounded really fucking weird to you, he just waved off your concerns. But you also heard about Chrissy buying from Eddie too, so you didn’t think anything of it if he didn’t either. It wasn’t until you were walking to your last class that you happened to pass Jason in the halls talking to his friends about how they were going to jump Eddie when they met up that it all made sense.

Why you wanted to bring your car. Why the whole concept of Jason buying drugs didn’t sit right with you. You skipped your last class to wait near the spot they’d meet. Your baseball bat sitting in your passenger seat. You’re not about to just let Jason hurt Eddie. But you’re also not an idiot. You watch from your hiding spot while Eddie sits on the bench waiting for the unknown threat to show up.

He can take care of himself against Jason, that’s been proven. But you don’t want to see what would happen if it was three or more guys. When Jason first shows up with three other guys whose names you could care less to remember, your nerves light up. Eddie’s too because he rises from the picnic bench with his arms raised. Grabbing your bat, you get out of the car, careful to stay out of view.

Inching closer, Jason’s voice finally makes it through, “she’d never actually want to be with a freak like you. No way. She wants to be with me, just like her parents want her to. Maybe if you let her go, we won’t hurt you.”

Yeah, fuck that. Clenching your hand around the bat, you step into view, “back off, Carver,” you command. Swaying the wood back and forth. “I warned you once already.”

“Princess,” Eddie warns, but you don’t want to hear it. He might have pieced together why Jason is here, but you’re not backing down. Never again. Not since the moment you stepped foot in his trailer what feels like ages ago.

“Can’t you see he’s corrupting you? Just come with me so that I can take care of you,” Jason yells back, looking honest to god perplexed. “This isn’t you. He’s messing with your head.”

“He’s letting me live!” You shout, tired of everyone trying to tell you what’s best for you. Like you’re incapable of figuring that out for yourself. One thing’s for certain, it isn’t fucking Jason. And it isn’t your fucking parents either. “He takes care of me better than anyone else ever has! Eddie makes me happy!”

“Aww, princess,” Eddie coos softly, making your heart swell.

“Don’t make me say it again, Carver,” you swing the back at your side again.

“Grab him!” Jason snaps and two of the guys grab each of Eddie’s arms, pinning them behind his back. You hadn’t even noticed they were getting closer to him, you were so focused on making sure Jason didn’t do something stupid. Eddie struggles in their grip, loosening their hold, only to be forced still.

Looks like Jason did do something stupid afterall. “I warned you, Jason,” you spit, swinging the bat, hitting him in the face with a satisfying thwack. He stumbles to the dirt, clutching his split, bleeding cheek. The remaining jock, not holding Eddie, helps Jason to his feet. Whipping your head to the others, “let. Him. Go,” you growl while Eddie stares at you with literal heart eyes. The boys keep their hold, flicking their gaze to their captain who's whining. Good. “Fine,” you huff, swinging the bat again, connecting with one of their legs.

Eddie stumbles as they release him, the one you’d hit falling to the forest floor, yelling in pain. His partner in crime helps him up and you aim your bat again, a crystal clear warning. One that even Jason pays attention to and all four jocks limp away. Once they’re out of view, the bat thumps to the ground and you face Eddie.

“Are you crazy?” He asks, pulling you close, staring in your eyes waiting for an answer.

“Don’t ever tell me again that I don’t love you, Eddie Munson, do you understand me,” you rush out, crashing your lips to his. A soft moan combined with an absolute sigh of relief pushes past your lips when he holds you tighter, pulls you even closer, and returns the kiss.

“Why would you do that?” He breaks the kiss, holding you by the small of your back. “Where did you even get a bat from?”

“That dick led you out here just to jump you. I heard him in the halls. I wasn’t going to just let him,” you roll your eyes, brushing his bangs from his eyes. “I told you it felt weird.”

“And the bat?” Eddie repeats, looking where it's laying on the ground.

“I’m a girl in a small town,” you state like it should be obvious. “It’s called self defense.”

He snorts, “hot.” You playfully punch his chest, making him laugh. He quickly grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss our knuckles. “So, I make you happy, huh?” Eddie grins slyly, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Very,” you smile back, leaning in to kiss him again. Hard. Pressing into him until he’s backed against a tree, groaning into your mouth. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for weeks,” you admit, pulling at his bottom lip with your teeth. Lovingly swiping it with your tongue at his hiss from the action.

Suddenly your back is against the tree and Eddie’s hips are digging into yours, the bulge in his jeans leaving nothing to the imagination as to whether or not he’s believing and enjoying your words. “I told you I wanted to marry you when we were kids,” he rasps in the small space between your mouths. “You coming to me soaked and asking for help, even as a ploy I’d accept it if it meant you being in my life again. I never stopped wanting you, princess. Ever.”

“Good,” you reply, claiming his mouth again, Eddie’s hands gripping your hips. You moan when he kisses down your neck, biting at the crook and your eyes roll back. “Eddie,” you whine, trying to spread your legs for more friction. He shifts, his thigh pressing between your legs, rubbing beautifully against your clothed pussy. It’s not enough and you whine again, “Eddie, please.” Every pent up feeling you’ve had for the last month ready to burst at the seams.

He chuckles against what’s surely a purple mark on your neck, “right here?” Eddie teases, licking your abused flesh, nipping his way back up. “Can’t let me take you home first?”

“No,” you say once his blown, brown eyes fall on your face, “I can’t. I need you, Eddie, please,” you gasp. Breathing becomes harder the longer his thigh digs into you, sparking flames deep in your core.

“Right here in the woods, huh?” He asks, a shit eating grin plastered on his face. “Maybe Jason was right,” Eddie chuckles, cupping you where it aches, “maybe I did corrupt you.”

“Good,” you moan, grinding against his hand, “I’m yours to corrupt, Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes darken further, pupils widening and getting hazy, “that’s my girl.” His fingers undo your button and zipper before yanking you to him, pulling you back towards the picnic table. Pushing you down face first onto the wooden surface, he drags your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. “Look at you,” he tries to coo, but it’s so full of lust that it’s raspy and thick, “so wet for me already, princess.” Eddie kisses your spine, making you shiver, “last chance,” his hands rub your ass.

“Please,” you croak, eyes burning, needing him inside of you right now. Groaning a guttural, “fuck,” when his tongue dips inside your dripping cunt. “Eddie,” you gasp, him eating you out better than you’ve ever felt before. The long licks and the way he pushes his tongue as far as it will go to tease at your clit. It’s intoxicating and before you can beg for more, two fingers push inside you and you keen. Hips bucking at the pressure against the bundle of nerves deep inside.

Your moans turn to a mewl, Eddie nipping at the back of your thighs, his hand cracking over your ass. The sting shoots white hot jolts of electricity through you, an orgasm beginning to warm you from the inside out at a startling rate. Kissing your ass, you feel Eddie smile, “you taste so fucking good princess. So fucking good. God,” he groans, “and you’re all fucking mine. Aren’t you?” His fingers move faster and all you can do is moan and nod, thighs shaking with the need to come. “Aren’t you?” Eddie repeats with another slap to your ass, wanting an actual answer.

Like he isn’t taking away your ability to form proper thoughts let alone understandable words. Huffing your breath, trying desperately to speak, “y-yes, yours,” your gasp, his tongue joining his fingers, flying you over the edge. Wave after beautiful wave slamming into you in quick succession. Had Eddie not had his fingers inside of you, you’d have slumped right off the table. “I’m yours, Eddie,” you groan when he removes his fingers, half hearing him undo his own belt and the slide of his pants.

“Good girl,” he soothes the spot he’d smacked with loving strokes of his palm, spitting into his other hand. A whine escapes your lips feeling the head of his cock glide against your pussy. “Ready, princess?” Eddie asks, tapping your cunt with his dick. You think you say yes, you’re almost certain the word came out of your mouth. All you really care about is that Eddie heard your consent and his dick slams into you completely. “Fuck, you’re so tight, baby.”

A groan shifts to a whine when he slowly drags himself out of you to the tip, sliding back at the same pace. “Eddie,” you whine again, trying to push your hips back to make him move faster. The heat in your core burns at a dizzying rate from the surprising intensity of the leisurely roll of his hips. But his grip on you is sure, you’re completely at his mercy.

“Look at that,” he gasps out, doing it over and over. You can only imagine that he’s just watching himself disappear inside of you and enjoying it immensely. “So pretty,” Eddie moans, thrusting harder, but only just. Still pulling out till just the tip of his cock is left inside you and ramming himself forward. The pace punches moans from your chest and has your eyes roll back with every deliberate jab to that sweet spot.

“Ed- fuck!” You cry out, his control of teasing you or keeping up with his own pleasure snaps along with his hips. Eddie holds your hips hard and rails into you harder. Thrusting with abandon and the coil inside of you winds tightly. Threatening to break at any given moment. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan repeatedly, eyes blurring with lust.

Eddie fists his hand in the back of your hair, yanking you up to his chest, “that’s right, let it all out, princess.” He wraps a hand around your middle, trailing his fingers down to circle around your clit. “I wanna hear how good I make you feel,” Eddie bites at your neck, sucking what has to be a constellation of marks on your skin, his thrusts not once faltering. “Come for me, pretty girl.”

His words, his hands, his cock, him. Eddie flies you right over the edge of your orgasm. The coil snapping so hard you feel your pussy spasm around him and do something it’s never done before, even when you’ve played with yourself. You cry out, screaming a moaned, “Eddie,” as your cunt gushes around him. A tear falls from your eye, overwhelmed with sensation but Eddie holds you close, keeping you grounded with an orgasm infused smile on your face.

He doesn’t gentle you through it, his fingers never ceasing their toying with your clit, “you’re gonna come for me again,” Eddie moans in your ear. You’re nearly overstimulated, but oh so addicted to the feeling of his dick inside of you that you couldn’t care less. You’d come as many times as he’d get you to. “Then I’m gonna come inside my pussy, understand?”

“Please, please Eddie, fuck,” you moan, your cunt clenching around him with a vice grip. You want to meet his thrusts, but you’re too lost in the perfect pace he’s set that you hadn’t even noticed the all too familiar tingle creeping up on you. Thighs shaking, you hold his arm, the hand in your hair snaking around to a light hold on your throat. Another grunted moan in your ear from Eddie is all it took for you to fall apart again. A breathless scream as your pussy squirts around his cock once more.

“That’s my girl,” Eddie’s grip tightens around your throat. His fingers finally leave your sensitive clit alone to hold you steady, thrusting a few more times until he shoves himself inside. Eddie lets out a moan, spilling himself deep inside, warming you from the inside out. “Fucking hell, I love you,” he pants, peppering your neck with sweet kisses. He carefully helps you back onto the table top, your hands propping you because your legs are far from stable.

Your mind is blissfully quiet, only caring about being in the moment with Eddie. You’ll deal with the thought of doing this in the middle of the woods later. Right now, you just want him. Eddie pulls out from your sore pussy as gently as he can and gingerly pulls your pants back up. Kind of pointless considering they’re pretty much instantly soaked from his come leaking out of you. But that’s okay too, you like the feeling. You turn to face him, finding he’s already got his pants pulled up too.

Reaching out to hug him, Eddie does you one better, scooping you up into his arms in a bridal carry. “You okay, princess?” He asks, kissing the top of your head when you tuck into his neck.

“I’m okay. Some water would be great right now though,” you mumble, the pure scent of Eddie mixing with the woods around you is better than any aromatherapy out there. “And food. God, and a bath.”

Eddie chuckles, bending to grab your bat from the ground, “good thing I have a cooler and some snacks in the van. Think that’ll be enough till we get home and I can make you something?”

“‘S perfect, Eds,” you smile against his skin, curling your fingers in the ends of his hair as he carries you to his van. “Will my car be okay?”

“I’ll have Gareth or Jeff come get it for you.” Eddie stops in his tracks, “uh,” he chuckles. “Do we need to stop at the pharmacy?”

Lifting your tired head, you ask, ”why,” heavy lidded eyes barely focusing on him.

“We didn’t use a condom,” he states, “and I definitely didn’t pull out.”

You laugh, thumping your head back into his neck, “Eddie, my parents controlled every aspect of my life, you really think they wouldn’t put me on the pill?” You resume playing with his hair and he begins walking again. “I would’ve stopped you otherwise,” tugging his hair lightly you giggle, “it’s more than okay, Eddie. Just get me home so we can eat and take a bath together.”

“Coming right up, princess,” his smile is evident in his tone and he kisses your hair again.

Part 2

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things 4 #stranger things #Match Writes

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rustedhearts · 1 year

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everytime (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: despite your break up two months ago, you can't seem to stay away from each other. when you need him, he's there. but how long can this really last?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

tags: steve + reader are college age (early-mid 20s), alcohol consumption, angst, hurt/comfort-ish, reader may have a bit of a substance abuse issue (it's heavily implied), accidental casual dominance? (steve really just takes care of her)

"every time i try to fly i fall without my wings, i feel so small. i guess i need you, baby. and every time i see you in my dreams, i see your face, it's haunting me. i guess i need you, baby."

—everytime, britney spears (ethel cain cover)

hawkins, indiana 1999

For your first date, Steve took you to Harvey's: a little retro milkshake diner off the interstate with the soggiest salted French fries and the smoothest strawberry shake you'd ever had in your life. He kissed you against the tin wall, right beneath the neon crimson exit sign. He held your hand on the drive home and kissed your knuckles at stop signs. You're so fuckin' beautiful, he told you on your porch.

That was senior year, three years ago.

For your last date, Steve took you to Enzo's: the fanciest Italian restaurant in town with bitter sauce and crunchy breadsticks. He didn't kiss you on the way there, nor the way back. You barely looked each other in the eye during the entire meal. When the check came, Steve slid it into his lap and turned to your hand, limp and empty on the tabletop. This isn't working anymore...is it? he asked you.

That was two months ago.

Your relationship had been on the outs for a while. All you did was fight, and not the fun, witty banter you used to have. The arguments turned explosive: doors slamming, engines revving, broken picture frames. Steve accused you of flirting with every man you came in contact with. You accused him of insecurity and projection. The pair of you made a scene no matter where you went, and soon it became exhausting just to be in your presence. You were bitter and bitchy, no longer the sweet girl he loved to make giggle. You became resentful and mean, and he became passive and silent.

It wasn't working, and it hadn't been working for a while.

You moved out of the apartment and in with a friend from college, taking the tiny spare bedroom she'd been using for storage. Most of it lived in the closet now, but the space was yours. The move was difficult—you'd lived with Steve since the day after high school graduation. You were gonna get married. You were gonna move west to California when you were done with school and abandon Indiana together. The pair of you had dreams bigger than this town, and now that you had gone your separate ways, they felt out of reach.

But you hadn't really gone your separate ways, had you?

You spoke on the phone a few nights a week, murmuring in the darkness about your days. Though it always went unspoken, I miss you bled through every phone call. When he inevitably sighed, and the receiver crackled with his shuffling, you had to bite way tears. I should get to bed, he'd say, and he'd say it like an apology. You soaked your pillow, wishing you'd told him you loved him a little more than you did when you had the chance.

Because you always loved Steve, and you were certain you always would. Nobody had ever been so kind to you, so sweet and understanding. Steve saw you for who you were, and never wanted you to change. But you pulled away from him, pushed him out when he tried to get in. Nobody bothered to stick around as long as Steve did. And that scared you.

Now here you were, crying yourself to sleep.

♡ ♡

One thing you didn't lose in the breakup were your friends. They refused to pick sides, insisting that there was no need to choose one or the other when they could easily split their time. More often than not, you found yourself waving to Steve through Eddie Munson's apartment window as he got into his car and drove off—like switching shifts, alternating between your visits and Steve's. He'd wave back, a stiff palm in the air directed your way in the windshield, paired with a tight-lipped, solemn smile.

Tonight, Eddie was hosting a party with his girlfriend, Gwen, and you knew the crowd would be absent of Steve. The only reason Steve ever attended parties was because you wanted to. He much preferred staying in and reading, or going to dinner just the two of you. He hated crowds and loud music, the 'sloppy drunks and fuzzy potheads' as he called them. He hated Eddie's other friends, and he hated you around them. You were always a little too eager to guzzle alcohol and puff a joint—it was the topic of many of your arguments.

He wasn't wrong, and that's what pissed you off the most.

Because here you were, on your third rum and coke of the night, sipping from a tiny red straw and chewing on the plastic. Eyes hazy and rimmed pink, cheeks flushed with warmth, sweating down your spine. The apartment was crammed with people like sardines in a tin can, and you stumbled through them on your way to the kitchen for some sort of snack. There, you found Robin and Gwen leaning against the sink, eyeing you pitifully as you fell between them with a sigh.

"What's up, girls?" You were out of breath and slurring your words.

They shared a look over your head, cringing. "How many have you had, babe?" Gwen asked.

You hummed, rubbing at your eye and smearing glitter across your cheek. "Uh...like two? Three. Definitely three."

"Three and?"

You huffed, tipping your head back exasperatedly. "Three and, like, one fucking hit. How many have you had, Robin?"

Your tone was mean. It always got a little sharp and cruel when you had too much to drink. The words always came flying out before you could swallow them, and you always woke the next morning with a massive headache and a ball of regret the size of Canada sitting in your throat. You felt it, a pang of guilt stabbing your gut, when you saw your friends' faces fall. You felt it, wringing your heart like a wet washcloth when Steve would stomp off.

"Hey. We're just looking out for you," Gwen interjected, brows furrowing at your tone.

Your cheeks flamed, teeth digging into the fleshy interior of your cheek to stop the tears of humiliation from springing forth. You turned around shakily and took a warm cheese cube from the platter on the counter.

"I know. But I'm...I'm fine. Okay?"

The girls sighed, and Eddie came shuffling into the kitchen with a beer and a cigarette in hand. He wrapped an inked arm around Gwen's neck, pulling her in by the crook of his elbow to plant a loud kiss on the top of her head. She fit into his side and nuzzled his neck, smiling in greeting. You swallowed, throat coated with thick warning. You were going to cry, and you sure as fuck weren't gonna do it here.

"Hey, what's up, scholar?" Eddie asked you, smacking your arm playfully.

You refused to turn around, knowing if you did the whole kitchen would see your glossy eyes and wobbling lip. But this just made you mean again, and as you plucked more cheese from the counter and poked at limp peppers, you pulled in on yourself. Eddie turned to his girlfriend and Robin, who shook their heads dejectedly.

"You okay, honey?" Robin reached out to rub your arm, and you curled away to wave her off, keeping your face angled toward the floor.

"I'm fine. I just...I'm gonna...go wash my hands."

You hurried off, refusing to meet their eyes as you went. You staggered through a sea of people, dizzy and foggy-headed, struggling to breathe. Gwen and Eddie's bedroom was the last door on the left, and you burst into the room with an urgent gasp of breath. The door slammed after you, and you had half a mind to sink onto the floor and lie there for the rest of the night until you stopped crying—but then you saw the phone.

You didn't even think about it.

You knew the number by heart. You dialed the numbers like second nature, lifting the phone to your ear to cradle the cool plastic with shaky fingers. You sniffled to clear the snot, swiping at the tears dripping down your cheeks. The dial tone droned. Once, twice, three times. You sank onto the floor against the bed, leaning your head back against the soft mattress.

"Hello?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. "Stevie?"

It was quiet a moment, and then another soft sigh. "Honey...why are you callin' me? Is everything okay?"

His voice, so soft and smooth like it always was, felt like a security blanket. It wrapped around you, tendrils curling around your bones to hold them tight like he used to. And you wanted nothing more than to hear that voice murmuring in your ear, with his arms around you to keep you safe. Everything's been so off-kilter since he left. Since you left each other. Every day feels like finding your footing all over again. Naked and bare, you weren't sure which direction to go in unless he was there to guide you.

And as selfish as it sounded, you wanted him to guide you again.

"N-No. I'm so fucked up, Steve—it's so fucked up."

Shuffling crackled through the receiver, and you imagined Steve sitting up in bed and rubbing his tousled hair. He sounded tired when he spoke again. "You been drinkin', baby?"

You nodded, sniffling nosily. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Stevie."

Keys tinkled like wind chimes in the distance of the other line. "Where are you, honey? Hmm? Do you know?"

You sighed, snot rattling in the back of your throat. Your hand fell to the itchy carpet beneath your legs, rubbing your palm to scratch it. You hated how this sounded like a routine. Like he expected you to call, all fucked out and lost. You wished you were better for him.

"M' at Eddie's."

"Oh, okay," Steve sounded a little relieved. "Stay where you are, alright?" He was coming to you.

"Steve...you don't have t' come, m' sorry. M' sorry, just...I'm all over the place."

"I'll be right there."

The line clicked, and you carefully placed the phone back in the cradle. The tears started up again, full force and breathless. You gasped for air and hiccuped like an infant as you clawed your way onto the bed, sprawling out on your back. You were grateful the room was dark. You didn't want to see yourself like this.

You listened the songs change while you waited to calm your cries. The room hadn't stopped spinning, and your throat felt so tight. Your chest hurt with a hollow ache that hadn't gone away since your last night at Steve's. You slept in the same bed, facing opposite walls. In the morning, you slid your key across the table and kissed his cheek. He carried your boxes to the car and stroked your cheek with his thumb against the passenger door. He smelled like hazelnut coffee and sleep.

Four songs passed before you heard familiar voices murmuring outside the door.

"Jesus, Steve, you can't keep coming to rescue her," Robin huffed.

You wiped your cheeks, lips downturning. Tough love really hurt when it came from your closest friends.

"Mind your business."

"This is my business. I care about both of you, and this is just...this is unhealthy!"

"Get out of my fucking way, Buckley."

The door handle jiggled, and you turned your head to watch it open. A streak of yellow light sliced through the blue darkness of the room.

"You don't know shit," Steve muttered, and then he was standing in the room.

The thump of music became muffled by the door once more, light clamped off to return the pair of you to darkness. A strip of moonlight beaconed over his face as he stepped closer, hands in the pockets of his jeans. You could hear his keys jingling as he fidgeted. He tipped his head at the sight of you lying there.

"Hi," you whispered. It was the sweetest you’d sounded in months.

Steve swallowed, trying not to rush over and kiss you. He had to fight the urge each time he saw you, even in passing. It felt wrong to part ways without a kiss goodbye. Even when you fought, you always stopped to kiss each other before going to work or heading to bed. It became one of Steve's favorite habits. He felt empty without it.

"Hi," he murmured back.

You sniffled, carefully turning your head away to look toward the ceiling. You were disappointed to see it was still swirling. You suddenly wished you were sober. Maybe he'd see you differently.

"You didn't have to come."

Steve shrugged in your periphery. He was wearing one of those collared polos that you loved. Three buttons always left undone, tight white t-shirt underneath. You wanted him closer. You wanted to smell his cologne again.

"But I'm here."

You shuffled to your elbows, groaning softly. Something lurched in your stomach, coiled tight in your belly. You were gonna be sick, but you didn't want to be in front of Steve. Pushing off weakly on your palms, you sat upright and wiped your cheek, smearing more makeup in the process.

Steve inched closer, waiting for his cue to step in. It came when you stood and wavered on the carpet, reaching for a steady surface.

"Alright, easy, honey." He swooped in, arm wrapped around your waist to guide you toward the bathroom door.

He pushed it open and flicked on the light, propping you against the sink like a Barbie doll. With an open palm on your stomach, he kept you upright as he rummaged through the drawers for a rag. You played with the brown leather band of his watch as he ran the rag under warm water, a pout embedded on your mouth.

"Wanna hop up there f' me?"

You braced the cold counter with the heel of your palms, lifting on wobbly arms to sit on top. "Atta girl," Steve mumbled under his breath, and even in your bleary state you flushed with warmth.

Resting against the mirror, you watched Steve lather powder white soap onto the wet cloth until it bubbled, bringing two fingers under the pink cotton to wipe against your cheek. His eyes were steady on his own ministrations, watching his hand clean away the smeared mascara and tears.

Your eyes, however, could only focus on him. His big sad eyes, swampy green and brown flanked by long, curled lashes. The mocha-colored freckles grazing his cheeks and collarbone, sprinkled along his neck. The pout on his plump pink lips, taken between his teeth in concentration.

When he switched the cloth to the other cheek, you exhaled shakily and caught his wrist. His eyes flicked to yours, finally catching your gaze. He blinked, another one of those toothless, tight-lipped smiles breezing over his lips. It was painted with pity.

Wrapping both hands around the warmth of his forearm, you tipped your cheek into his palm and the soapy, damp cloth encompassed around it. Steve sighed, chest deflating beneath that handsome polo. In the fluorescents of the bathroom, he looked prettier than ever. You were smaller than he'd ever seen you, crumpled and disheveled.

"You drank too much again." He said it the way he orders a cheeseburger in the drive-thru: casual, predictable, cool. He expected this.

That's what always hurt you most.

Your mouth opened to utter a reply, but all that came was a shuttered breath. Your lip downturned, jutting out in a petulant pout that made him ache. He swiped two fingers, cool from the cloth and scented of clean soap, across your temple and into your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

"Just felt sad," you admitted lowly, rubbing your hand along his arm.

Steve placed his hand against your other cheek, suddenly cradling your face. His thumb made circles in your sticky skin—firm, tender, just the way you used to like it. Your eyes fluttered closed, head falling deeper into his hold.

"About what?" His voice was so soft, so small. The rest of the world fell away outside of his tiny, outdated bathroom.

You scoffed humorlessly, head shaking. You opened your eyes again as you fiddled with his watch. "You know what."

Steve's gaze rolled over your face, swollen and pink, stuck in a defeated frown. He wondered if you'd remember this in the morning, or if it'd be another night you fell fuzzy on.

"Yeah...yeah, I know, baby."

You huffed, breath hot and laced with liquor across his arm. "M' sorry. M' sorry I made you come out here, and...m' just...m' just sorry—"

"—hey, come on—"

"—no, Steve...m' a mess. Everyone's right about me."

The pads of Steve's fingers scratched at your scalp, and you hated how easily you purred like a kitten at his touch. Your neck craned, and if it weren't for his hand holding your head up, you might've lied down right there on the sink. Inebriation had its claws in you deep.

"Hey," he cooed, urging your head up with his wash-clothed hand. "Don't talk like that."

When you did nothing but continue to frown and sniffle, Steve sighed and steadied you upright. "C'mon, lemme finish cleanin' you up."

Your shoulders slumped, head bobbing gently. "Okay."

Steve chuckled, rubbing your other cheek with the soapy cloth. "Okay."

You were pliant to his pulling and prodding, allowing him to clean you without complaint. He tucked your hair behind your ears when your face was washed, and filled a Dixie cup with cool water for you to drink. He rested his hands on your bare knees as he watched you gulp it down, patting them when you were done.

"All done?"

You nodded, handing him the paper cup. He tossed it in the trash bin, nudging your chin up with two fingers. "Hey. You with me?"

You nodded again. "Mhm."

"I'm gonna take you home, okay?"

You grasped his hand, pushing your fingers through his. "Okay."

He helped you off the counter, but he didn't drop your hand. He held it as he guided you through the dark bedroom and into the hall, using it to pull you into his side to fit through the crowd. When you made it to the kitchen, you were stopped by your friends, and you pressed your head to Steve's firm back as their voices melded into a yell.

"Oh, fuck off, Munson, seriously, this is none of your business. Last I checked, our relationship only involved the two of us."

"What relationship? You broke up—weeks ago, by the way, in case you forgot—"

"—I didn't forget," Steve hissed, side-stepping and pulling you with him to avoid Eddie. "And for the last time, it’s none of your business.”

You peered back at the group of your friends huddled near the sink as Steve steered you toward the back door. You knew they were disappointed—you could see it in their empty eyes and pursed lips. You could see it in the way Gwen had to rub Eddie’s arm to calm him down. Because the two of you were making a mistake, and you’d never move on if you kept crawling back to each other every chance you got.

But maybe you didn’t want to move on, and maybe Steve didn’t either.

Steve took you home that night, and sat you on the end of the bed. He pulled your dress down your legs and replaced it with a big t-shirt: sunshine yellow, drenched in Steve. He tucked you under the blankets and kissed your head. And then he crawled in beside you, and held you the whole night.

He took you home, where you belonged: with him. And he didn’t know if you’d wake the next morning wondering where you were, or happy to see him nuzzled in your neck, but Steve was willing to roll the dice. For now, he could pretend this was how it always was, and that you never left.

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #joe keery #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington angst #king steve #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve the hair harrington #joe keery fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

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Now with Part 2!

Steve didn’t have the best track-record when it came to relationships. It’s not that he had a problem getting into them, he just had an issue staying in them. Or more accurately, getting someone to want to stay with him.

Nancy was the worst example of that by far, but even before her, there was a trend in Steve’s life. People broke up with him, not the other way around. And he knew why. Steve wasn’t stupid, or at least, not as stupid as people thought he was. He knew he was clingy, he knew he fell in love too fast, got intense too fast, he was painfully aware of the fact.

And he wasn’t going to go through it again. Robin had been the last straw, in both a good and a bad way. The romance aspect was obviously shot to shit immediately, but at the same time, she was the one person in his life, who wasn’t a literal child, that didn’t think he was too much. She was the one person who loved him back unconditionally, all of his clinginess and care one hundred percent accepted.

And Steve would take it. He got lucky enough to get someone to want to be in his life while knowing the real him, why push? A platonic soulmate was probably more than he deserved anyway. So Steve accepted the fact that this was it. Maybe down the line, he’d do what his parents did, get married for convenience instead of love. Have kids, the whole normal life shebang. But for now, he was happy to keep all that crap away from him.

But then came Eddie Munson.

Stupid, reckless, annoying, adorable Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson who almost died protecting Steve’s favorite child, Eddie Munson who had the prettiest eyes in the state of Indiana, Eddie Munson who ended up being the sweetest, funniest person Steve had ever met. Eddie Munson, who latched onto Steve with lightning fast speed, and made him feel like his life had fucking color again.

They became fast friends, half because experiencing hell together was a really great bonding experience, and half because Dustin refused to hang out with them separately now that their weird jealous feud was over. The little shit was obviously trying to play as a friend matchmaker, and it worked to Dustin’s delight.

Despite all their differences, Steve and Eddie just clicked. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different, but underneath it all, they were eerily similar. Both had shitty parents who hated them, both were fucking terrible at academics and would side-eye each other when one of their genius friends went on a smart person rant. They were both snarky shitheads who could make the other laugh like no tomorrow. They both wanted out of this shitty town, but were too afraid to leave their friends behind. And they just…liked each other. A lot.

Steve could, and had, spent hours talking to him on the phone, about anything and nothing. And as embarrassing as it was, falling asleep on there together was not a rare thing for either of them. Soon enough, they were almost attached at the hip. Even at work they couldn’t stay away from each other, either Eddie was loitering on the Family Video floor chatting up Steve, or Steve was impatiently waiting in Eddie’s passenger seat as he did a drug deal. And it was all so fun, just being with him. Steve kind of felt like he was on top of the world.

But then it happened. He didn’t know how it happened, but it happened.

One second, they were on their way to the movie theater, arguing about what they were going to see, and the next Steve realized it. He stared at Eddie, still in the middle of his rant on how The Fly was going to be so much more memorable than Stand by Me.

An uncomfortably familiar feeling was building up inside him. Familiar but different, more intense than anything he could remember. But he still knew what it was. It was that horrible, fluttery feeling he had with Nancy, but worse. Because with Nancy, Steve had been trying, he had worked to impress her, had opened himself up on purpose to get his heart broken.

But with Eddie? It felt like he was taking a piece of Steve without permission. He hadn’t even thought about it when he opened up to him, he just did it. He never pretended with him, he was just his bitchy, overly attached self, and Eddie had never had a problem, if anything he encouraged it.

In hindsight, Steve had never had a chance.

He was in love with him. He was in love with him and he wanted to puke. He had Eddie take him straight home after that, with a half truth about feeling like shit. And then he had to wave him off from trying to take care of him, the ass. Like making Steve fall in love with him wasn’t enough, he had to genuinely care about him too? It just made him feel worse.

He had called Robin immediately, because what else could he do? He told her the whole shitty story, and like the angel she was, she talked him through it, sexuality crisis included. She made the argument that if he could fight demons with his bare hands, than he could more than handle being gay for one dude. Which...maybe wasn’t the most sound reasoning, but it worked.

They developed a system, Steve could whine and cry to Robin about his hopeless infatuation, and hang out with Eddie like nothing was wrong. And when Eddie eventually moved on with a girlfriend, Steve would just lock himself in his room for two weeks and cry like a loser until he got over it. It was a good plan, and he felt like he had everything under control.

Until he didn’t.

It was another Friday night, and Steve was always over at Eddie’s on Fridays. And Saturdays. And Sundays. And occasionally on Wednesday and Thursday. Almost always on Mondays and Tuesdays.

Okay, so he borderline just lived there when he wasn’t working, but so what? Eddie always seemed happy to see him, and Wayne didn’t mind. He was reading a comic on Eddie’s bed, while Eddie was fiddling with his guitar, staring into space.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hm?”

Eddie was quiet for a second, pausing before asking, “Why don’t you date girls anymore?”

Steve was only half-listening, still engrossed in what he was reading, “Don’t really have the time.”

“But you do have the time. Like…now is the time. You can tell me if I’m the one getting in the way of that.”

Steve shrugged, flipping the page, “You’re never in the way. I just like spending time with you more than random girls, y’know?”

He could hear Eddie put down his guitar to join Steve on the bed, his voice a little shaky, “Steve, if I ask you something that’s, uh, kinda out there, will you promise you won’t be mad?”

Steve rolled his eyes, impatient as he re-read the same part over again, "If it’s quick, I’m getting to the good part here dude.”

Eddie took a deep breath, voice soft as he asked, "Are you in love with me?”

Steve could feel his heart stop in his chest, and for a brief second, he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what a heart attack felt like. His head shot up, comic forgotten, eyes wide as he stared at Eddie’s questioning face. His mind was racing too fast to form a coherent thought. How did he figure it out? Was Steve that obvious? Was…was he mad? Would he be mad? Would he hate him? Call him a queer and kick him out of the trailer? By the time he thought of the simple answer to just deny it, he had already been staring at Eddie with his mouth hanging open for a full minute.

The window for believability was definitely closed on that front.

The whole thing felt unfair. He…he had tried this time. Really, really tried to not let his stupid feelings come into play, but here he was again, caught and about to get his heart smashed to a thousand pieces.

Eddie was still waiting for an answer, tense as he searched Steve’s face. Steve licked his lips, opening and closing his mouth like an idiot before managing to squeak out, “I’m sorry.”

Eddie was still staring at him, expression unreadable as he asked again, “So…you are?”

Steve looked away, staring back at his stupid comic book as he nodded, vision blurring. Christ, he was going to cry. Eddie was going to scream at him, or never talk to him again, or god forbid try to be understanding while shutting it down. He’d have to watch their relationship slowly dissolve while Eddie kept a healthy distance away, probably take the time to fall for some pretty girl who wasn’t a clingy and annoying fuck like Steve was.

He froze when he felt Eddie’s hand on his chin, forcing his head up to meet his eyes. This was it, the end of everything. He could barely fucking see with all the tears in his eyes, but then Eddie was wiping them away and he was…smiling at him?

“Thank God,” Eddie breathed, leaning in until their lips touched. They were kissing. Eddie Munson was kissing him. And even through his shock, Steve was damn sure kissing him back.

Eddie was trying to talk to him, pulling away to get a few words out before going right back in to press their mouths together, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Steve was the one who had to pull away, as reluctant as he was he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming here, “Y-you’re not mad?”

Eddie seemed to vaguely understand that they still needed to talk, but that wasn’t stopping him from kissing every other part of Steve’s face, “Why would I be mad?”

“Because…” Because I’m a guy? Because you could do better? Because I’m a suffocating freak who already takes up most of your time? “Because I’m me?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Oh no, the man I’m in love with is himself. Whatever will I do?”

Steve froze for the second time at that, a smile slowly spreading over his face, “You love me?”

“I love you, you love me, and I would really appreciate it if we could just make-out on my bed now that-”

Eddie didn’t even get the full sentence out before Steve was on him, tackling him on the bed to smash their lips back together.

And sure, Steve was still scared shitless about the possibility that Eddie would wake up one day and realize he could do better, but for now? He’d take it.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #you'll pry my insanely long posts out of my cold dead hands #Yes Steve #you are that obvious #might do a part two to counter all the negative Steve self thoughts #this one's forever kiddo #but can you blame him?#nancy did a number on the boy

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munsons-hellfire · 26 days

Text

I Always Knew | Eddie Munson

SUMMARY: You fell in love with Eddie over the years. But you feared that he never felt the same way. When you finally break up with Jason and decided your ready to tell Eddie you love him. Your reality is crashed when you catch someone kissing him. Only it's not her he loves.

PAIRINGS: Eddie Munson x Reader, Jason Carver x Reader (brief mentions)

CONTENT WARNING: 18+ MDNI, NSFW, the events of season 4 don't happen (which means Hopper doesn't disappear, no one moves to Cali and reader does know about El and the Upside down), best friends to lovers, both kinda clueless about each others feelings, smut with a plot, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), oral (f receiving), angst, fluff, a happy ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It was so good to get back to Stranger Things. I honestly missed writing for Eddie. I hope you enjoyed this one shot as much as I enjoyed writing it. The smut could be a little better but I don't write it as much so this is how it turned out.

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

You had been friends with Eddie Munson from the moment you moved into the trailer park in Hawkins Indiana. Eddie was the first person𑁋other than your father𑁋that you left into your life after your mother. You and your father had moved back to his hometown of Hawkins just months after your mother passed away. You felt stuck, like your feet had cemented to the ground and you couldn’t move forward anymore.

Then one night when you were out stargazing to feel closer to your mother, you met Eddie Munson. From the moment he came over to talk to you, you knew one day that you’d marry him. As the two of you grew older neither of you could be separated from each other. Wayne and Bill𑁋your father𑁋couldn’t separate you two from each other. They both knew collectively from the moment that you met that one day you and Eddie would end up together.

They were shocked that neither of you had come forward and admitted your feelings for each other. But a small rift formed between your friendship when you started dating Jason Carver. You should’ve known better, but Jason had you locked under his spell and you thought it would be a way to move on from Eddie. Here you stood, Jason standing in front of you talking about the basketball game and how positive that they were going to win tonight.

But your mind constantly found its way back to Eddie, no matter how hard you tried to avoid thinking about him, you couldn’t. You especially couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d feel on top of you. About the way his cock would feel deep inside you. Just thinking about him that way made you wet between your legs.

“Are you listening to me, baby?” Jason questioned, his eyes trained on you. You were pulled out of your delicious thoughts, staring at your soon to be ex. This was your chance, you’d break up with him and then you’d finally go after Eddie hoping that it wasn’t too late.

“No, I’m not.” You whispered, then you sighed. “I can’t do this anymore Jason.” Your voice was steady as you spoke to him. You watched shock slowly morph into his features.

“What are you saying?” You pulled your eyes away from Jason looking around the hallway seeing a few people staring at you two. Almost like they were waiting for the announcement that you were breaking up with him.

A sigh rips from your throat, “What I’m saying is that I’m breaking up with you.”

A shocked noise left Jason’s mouth. “You can’t break up with me, we’re great together.” Jason said, throwing his hands in the air.

“I can and I am. I’m not meant to be with you, I’m meant to be with someone else.”

With those words you turned away from the basketball player and walked away from him as he called out your name. He didn’t however make a move to stop you. As you started on your journey to find Eddie you were stopped by Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will; all of whom were in Hellfire with Eddie. It was nice of Eddie to take the boys under his wing this year, you loved him a little more seeing the way he treated them. They had needed a good role model other than Steve after everything that had happened over the last few years.

But you could all live a normal life thanks to El defeating the Mind Flayer. You wondered where Max and El were considering that they were all inseparable. You were certain they probably weren’t far, or would be joining them soon enough.

“Is there something I can help you with?” You asked, with a raised brow.

“We heard that you finally broke up with Carver.” Dustin said, his smile taking over his face.

“Wow, that happened not even 5 minutes ago and it spread around quickly.” You pause, keeping your eyes trained on the teens. “I did. Why?” A curious expression appeared on your face as you waited for one of them to answer the question.

“Does this mean that you and Eddie are finally going to get together?” Mike asked. All four of them plus everyone else in your friend group including Steve made it very clear to you and Eddie that you both were perfect for each other. You and Eddie were two pieces to the puzzle that fit perfectly together. Never when you were together though, only if you weren’t around each other.

“You four are something, that’s for sure.” You paused, but allowed a smile to break through and plaster your face. “That being said, I was on my way to find him and talk to him. Any of you happen to know where I might find Eddie? I know I should know but I’ve been distracted as of late.”

Even though you’d asked the question, you knew exactly where Eddie would be. But you wanted to make sure just in case you were wrong. He was in the drama room most likely setting up for tonight’s session for Hellfire.

“Drama room!” They all answered excitedly.

“Great! Thank you!”

With a smile still on your lips you turned again and walked in the direction of the drama room. You were more than ready to admit your feelings to Eddie even if it meant you’d possibly ruin your friendship. You opened the door when you reached the drama room, Eddie was already setting up for tonight’s session which you were excited to see. Eddie looked up from what he was doing and smiled at you. His smile sent a warm feeling through your body.

“Hey, I thought you’d be getting ready for the basketball game.” Eddie said, as he looked back down at what he was setting up.

“Uh, actually, I thought I’d skip out tonight and watch your campaign if that’s okay.” Your voice came out soft as you talked to Eddie. But in reality you just wanted to tell him how much you loved him. How you didn’t want to be apart from him anymore. But nothing would come out, your words were lodged in your throat, they wouldn’t move forward.

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome here.”

You walked over to Eddie and sat down in one of the chairs. One by one the boys started to file into the drama room. El and Max were now with them too. Eventually the campaign started and you kept your eyes on Eddie for the most part. You were memorized by how he explained the storyline and the whole premise of the campaign. Things took a turn for the worst when someone else entered the drama room.

All eyes including yours fell onto her, she was so beautiful. You were nothing compared to her, suddenly you felt so self-conscious. You started to fidget with your fingers as you watched the blond walk up to Eddie, interrupting the session.

“Uh, don’t mind me.” She said softly, then proceeded to give Eddie a kiss to his lips, a quick peck.

But that was enough for you to feel your entire world shatter. She sat down next to him and the campaign continued. Eddie took notice of the way your posture and mood suddenly changed. He thought it was odd but shook it off. As the campaign came to a close and everyone started to pack up, you quickly said your goodbyes to everyone except Eddie and the girl that had missed him. With your back to everyone you let the tears roll down your cheeks.

You weren’t upset that you had broken up with Jason. It was better for you, but you had pushed it off too long and now because of that you were too late to get Eddie, the one you always knew you wanted. Climbing in your car you turned it on and drove out of the school parking lot as fast as you could before Eddie had a chance to catch up to you. When you made it home you climbed out of your car and headed towards your trailer. Your dad was outside, a soft warm smile on his face.

“Hi, darling. How was the basketball game?” He asked, curiously.

“I didn’t go. I broke up with Jason because I realized that I’m in love with Eddie. But now I can’t have him because he’s dating someone else.”

You walked up the steps as you answered your father. The door closed behind you as you stepped into the trailer and headed straight for your room. Bill could hear the sadness in your voice. It broke his heart to see you like this. Once you were inside your room you locked the door, collapsed on your bed and let the rest of the tears out.

☾

Days had passed since you broke up with Jason, you’d also managed to avoid Eddie as well. It even included not going to school for those few days. Each day Eddie stopped by your home after school to talk to you, but you weren’t in the right space to talk to him. Your father would send him away saying that you hadn’t been feeling well. But your dad wasn’t home right now and Eddie needed to see you.

He needed to understand why you wouldn’t talk to him. You were curled into your side, your blanket was wrapped around your entire body and you had a horror movie on. You’d normally watch them with Eddie, but you had it on more so for background noise. The sound was up just enough for you to not hear Eddie enter your trailer.

Your eyes were closed and your cheeks were wet with tears. No matter how hard you had tried to stop crying you just couldn’t stop. It hurt too much. Eddie came up to your cracked door and knocked on it softly.

“It’s me, princess.” Eddie called out, voice soft and sweet as you remembered.

“Go away.”

Your voice was hoarse and low. You gripped your blanket tighter. Eddie ignored you, opening the bedroom door and walking in. He closed it behind him, then Eddie pulled his shoes off and climbed into your bed. You felt the dip of your bed and tried to move away. Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

You were desperate to get away from him. The position that you were currently in wasn’t working for either of you. So Eddie lifted you up and turned your body so your back was on your bed. The metalhead pushed himself in between your legs, and you felt yourself stop breathing for a brief moment. Eddie held your hands above your head, suddenly everything was different.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Eddie questioned, a stern look on his face. You looked up at him finally, his brown eyes staring back at you. But there was something different, his eyes were covered in lust.

“I’m not ignoring you. Let go of me Eddie.” You mumbled looking away from him. Eddie removed a hand from your hands, he reached out and grabbed a hold of your jaw turning it back so he could see your eyes.

“Yes. You. Are.” He paused, eyes skimming down your body before moving back up and resting on your eyes. “I want to know why.”

“Because.” You spoke, your bottom lip trembling as you fought back to hold the tears in. You didn’t need to cry in front of him, not like this.

“Because why?” Eddie pressed.

“I broke up with Jason, because I…” You paused, it was now or never.

“You what?” Eddie let go of your hands and pulled away from your body, he leaned down on his knees but continued to stare at you. You suddenly missed his warmth.

“I broke up with him, I couldn’t bear the thought of being with someone who I didn’t love. Not when the person I love is you. And I wanted to tell you, I did, really. But the words got stuck in my throat and then she came in and kissed you and I knew… I knew that I had missed my time.” You pulled yourself up and moved back towards your headboard, then proceeded to wrap your arms around your legs when you pulled them to your chest.

“That’s why you’ve been ignoring me?” Eddie asked as he paused, running a hand down his face. “Look, she was nothing. I told her she could come watch the campaign session, but I swear I hadn’t planned for her to kiss me, okay. That was the last thing I wanted to happen.” Eddie adjusted himself, coming up next to you and wrapping an arm around you. “I always knew, you know. I always knew that I loved you, and deep down I think I always knew that you loved me too. But I didn’t want to ruin what we had over my feelings. I didn’t want to lose my best friend.”

“Oh, Ed.” You stared up at him, his brown eyes glazing over you. Before you could stop yourself you had your lips on Eddie’s and were kissing him with all the passion you had inside you. When you finally pull back from the heated kiss, you just stare at him. “You could never lose me.”

Eddie closed the space between you, his lips found purchase on yours again. His ringed fingers tangled into your hair, palms resting gently against your cheeks as he continued to kiss you. Eddie helped lower you down on the bed, until he was back between your legs. Your hands tangled into his long brown curly locks as he removed his lips from yours and placed them on your neck. He smirked when a soft moan escaped your lips.

The moan encouraged him to suck your skin in between his lips while his hand wandered down your chest. Finally his hand rested on your breasts, squeezing one before moving to the other. He could feel your nipples grow taut after he touched them. Eddie let off of your skin, pulling back from your body slightly. He looked down at your net to see a bruise forming where he had pulled at the skin. His smirk grew bigger as he stared down at your already blissed out face.

“Is this real?” You asked softly.

“It’s real, baby. Lean up.” Eddie said. You listened to his order and leaned yourself up from the bed slightly. “Good girl.” The words were smooth when they left his mouth, you felt yourself clenching your thighs together as Eddie leaned closer and reached for the bottom of your shirt. He grasped the shirt and started to lift it up your body.

Once the shirt was removed from your body you were left in only your bra, and shorts. Your hair fell back down landing on your chest. He threw your shirt onto the floor then reached forward again. His hands rested on your waist and slid up your back. His fingers unclasped your bra and pulled it off your shoulders. Finally he threw it to the floor and gently pushed you back down towards the mattress.

Eddie leaned down and placed kisses on your chest, slowly moving down. You gasped quietly when Eddie took a nipple into his mouth and started to flick his tongue around it. You closed your eyes, happy with just feeling him on you. Eddie pulled his lips from your nipple and moved to the other repeating the same thing. With his free hand he pinched your other nipple between his index finger and thumb.

Another moan slipped past your lips. He smirked at you, pulling away from your breasts and moving down your body. Eddie left a trail of kisses down your stomach until he reached your pussy. Eddie placed his lips on each thigh, avoiding the one spot you needed him most right now.

“Eddie.” You moaned out, lust filled eyes on him. He looked amazingly handsome between your thighs and you couldn’t help the smile that managed to cover your face. “Please.” You added, your voice barely above a whisper.

“So needy, princess.” Eddie whispered, his hot breath hitting your pussy.

He stuck his tongue out in front of your already wet cunt, then you felt his tongue on you. He licked a strip, moving from the bottom all the way to your clit. He sucked your clit into his mouth liking side to side. Gently he lifted a finger to your entrance and pushed a finger in. You tightened around his finger, a groan left Eddie’s lips causing a shutter to run through your body.

The slurping sound from his tongue ran through your ears, another moan left your lips when Eddie added another finger and curled them inside you hitting that sweet spot. You felt your orgasm inching closer with each lick of his tongue on your clit. You threw your head back, hitting your pillows. Your eyes were squeezed shut, mouth gaped open, your orgasm was so close.

“Eddie, please.” You moaned.

Eddie tugs at your clit, and curls his fingers inside again. When Eddie did that you felt yourself tighten around his fingers. Then he started to pick his pace up, pulling his fingers out only to shove them back inside of you.

“That’s it princess, cum on my fingers.” He whispered.

He stuck his tongue out again softly licking your clit. You shuttered, as you came on his fingers. Your moans echoed around the room as the remnants of your orgasm hit you. Eddie rested his head on your thigh, pulling his fingers from your entrance. You watched with blissed out eyes as he sucked your juices off his digits.

“You taste so divine, princess.” A smile fell onto your lips. Eddie pulls himself away from you, he climbs off the bed and proceeds to remove his clothes one by one. Eddie tugs his boxers off, his cock springs free hitting his stomach, pre-cum drips from the tip. He climbs back onto the bed and hoovers over top of you.

You pull your hand to your mouth and spit on it. Then you reach out and grab a hold of his cock and begin to stroke it. A moan leaves his lips at the feeling of your hand on him. He rests his head against yours. He pushes your hand off his cock and grips it, then you feel him tapping his cock against your clit. A strangled moan leaves your swollen lips.

Eddie smirks, he pulls back, placing his cock at your entrance. You watch as he pushes his cock inside of you. Eddie moans as you grip him tightly. Another moan leaves you, Eddie pushes all the way inside and settles there allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Fuck, I’ve waited so long to feel this close to you.” Eddie whispered.

“Please move.” You stared up at Eddie’s brown eyes. You’d waited long enough too and you needed him to move. He could see the pleading look that covered your face. Eddie pulled back just until the tip of his cock was the only thing that remained inside you. Then he pushed forward slamming back into you. Both of you moaned out in pleasure.

You could feel yourself tighten around Eddie’s cock as he continued the pace he was going. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the bedroom. Another moan fell from your lips, Eddie leaned forward and kissed them swallowing your moan. Eddie moves his fingers down to your clit and starts circling the bud. He pulls another moan from your lips, it echoes in the room when he pulls away to kiss your neck.

Your orgasm was getting closer. Eddie’s hips slammed into yours. Continuous moans left both your mouths as both of you inched closer towards your impending orgasm. Eddie could feel you getting closer. A smile brightened on his face. You placed a hand down on your bed and gripped the sheets tightly, arching your back.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You moaned.

“Are you close?” He whispered breathlessly.

“So close.” You mumbled. Eddie kept his finger on your clit rubbing in fast tight circles. His cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you.

“You gonna cum all over my cock, princess?” You could only nod your head, words weren’t forming on your tongue. “I want to feel you cum.”

“Eddie.” Another whimpered moan left your lips after breathing his name. He felt his orgasm getting closer, but he wanted to feel you cum around his cock first.

“Cum on my cock.”

You obeyed Eddie, a moan falling from your lips. Eddie felt you squeezing him, he went to pull out, however you gripped onto his arms.

“No. Inside.” The words left your mouth and you watched through dazed eyes as Eddie complied and kept himself inside you. He slammed his hips into you a final time cum releasing inside you. Eddie slowed his rhythm down more until his hips stilled. He stared down at you with bright brown eyes. Lust filled eyes, but still bright.

Slowly Eddie removed himself from you, pulling back and climbing off the bed. You stared up at the ceiling, no thoughts in your mind just the blissful aftermath of your post orgasm. When Eddie returned you gasped feeling something could touch your cunt.

“Just cleaning you up, princess.” Eddie threw the cloth in your close basket. He climbed back into the bed and pulled you onto his chest.

“So, what does this mean now?” You asked, finally breaking the silence after the two of you had settled down into the bed.

“It means your mine.” Eddie whispered, placing a soft kiss on your head.

You tilted your head towards him with a smile so bright Eddie always wanted to see it. “I think I can live with that.” You leaned up to him and kissed his lips passionately.

“Good.” You laid your head down on his chest and fell asleep, at some point he had pulled his boxers on and his shirt. And you had your shirt and underwear back on. Finally he fell asleep holding you. An hour later your dad came in calling for you, when he opened the door he stared at you resting in Eddie’s arms. They were wrapped around your waist tightly.

“It’s about damn time.” He whispered, closing the door and walking back down the hallway.

#reader insert #x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #will byers #jason carver

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ladykailitha · 26 days

Text

Sweet Home Indiana Part 1

Hello! And welcome to this fun little fusion that I came up with here. If anyone can find the post about gay legal troubles after gay marriage was legalized (I think was originally about polyamory divorces) let me know so I can link here, too.

Summary: Eddie is a successful tattoo artist in Seattle and is engaged to be married to Chrissy. Only there is one problem. Well, technically three. You see, back before the Supreme Court ruled that gay marriage was a right and not a privilege Eddie had gotten married in a couple of different states to different people. But now that's it's legal, he's a bigamist and he has to get his exes to divorce him. Which is easy enough for two of the three, not so much for the third. You see the third just isn't just any ex, it's the ex. Steve Harrington. So now he has to go down to Hawkins and try to convince the person he thought he was going to spend his life with to divorce him. Something much easier said then done, especially when Eddie finds himself falling back in love.

EDDIE IS GAY IN THIS BUT THERE ARE REASONS OKAY!

****

Eddie’s life was good. Let it be said that it was really good. He knew that. But he had regrets. Didn’t everyone?

He regretted how his band broke up. It wasn’t his fault, but he hadn’t seen the cracks when they had started to show. He hadn’t seen how tired Jeff was getting or how fucked Gareth was. He hadn’t seen that Brian was only phoning it in every night.

So when it all fell apart after a concert in Seattle, he was left holding the pieces of his band and his broken heart. He had gotten a job as a tattoo apprentice and had worked really hard to get his own chair.

He had friends. Good ones. Jeff had stayed in Seattle, too. Gareth had gone into rehab and had moved to a small village in the south of France. Brian had gotten married and moved back to Indiana where he became a teacher and lived a quiet life. The life he had always wanted.

Then there was Chrissy. He loved her so much. They had met when she came into the tattoo parlor to get a tattoo covered. She wanted to cover the name of her ex-boyfriend with a purple violet. Eddie had smiled at her when she asked.

It was some of his best work, if he was honest.

She was a legal assistant that had just gotten her paralegal degree and was trying to get a work visa.

She had come over to the USA from Barbados. A little island country in the Caribbean.

He didn’t know how she could stand living in damp Seattle after being born on sun-soaked shores under glistening palm trees. But Chrissy was adamant that she loved being in Washington where it rained almost all the time.

Eddie was on a mission. One that he had sworn to Chrissy that he would do today.

He walked into the county clerk’s office and applied for a marriage license for him and Chrissy.

“I’m sorry Mr. Munson,” the clerk told him, “but our records show that you have not one, not two but three marriages in three different states.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide.

“What?” He would remember that, surely.

“To a William Hargrove in Hawaii, a Thomas M. Hagan in New York, and Steven J. Harrington in Massachusetts,” the woman said, holding up her reading glasses in front of her face to read off the list.

“But those were only legal in the state they were preformed in, right?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

The woman shook her head. “Not since the Supreme Court ruled that it was legal for gays to get married. It’s cause a lot of trouble for a lot you people, let me tell you.”

Eddie knocked his knuckle on the counter and licked his lips. “Shit.”

She grimaced sympathetically. “I’m sorry, but before you can get a marriage license in the state of Washington, you’ll have to provide divorce decrees from all three of your exes.”

Eddie pounded on the counter this time with his open palm. “Thanks.”

He walked away and he heard her call out, “Next!”

Shit, shit, shit.

This was going to be hell, he could feel it.

****

Chrissy had fast food waiting for him when he got home from work.

“Did you get the license?” she asked, handing him his food and drink.

Eddie buried his head in his hands. “No, because stupid gay marriage legalization made all gay marriages legal, no matter what state you preformed them in.”

“Oh.”

She sat down hard. “So your three marriages suddenly count?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured. “I don’t even know where any of them are. Like I assume Steve’s still in Hawkins, because he’d never leave, but the other two? I have no fucking idea.”

She patted him on the shoulder and said, “We’ll find a way. The law firm has investigators on staff for this very reason. It might take a while, but we’ll find them.

Eddie nodded. “I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sat down on his lap. “I’m not. You didn’t know. Otherwise you would have taken care of it when Obergefell v. Hodges went through the Supreme Court.”

Eddie nodded, but he pursed his lips, his hands up around her waist to hold her steady.

“Let’s just eat and I’ll start work on it tomorrow,” she murmured. “Okay?”

“Mmk,” he muttered.

****

Three weeks later, Eddie had in hand two of the three annulments. Billy had sent his back with a little note that said, “With pleasure.” Tommy had merely sent his back without comment.

That was a relief. He was no longer bound to either of those two assholes. He wasn’t even sure what possessed him to marry them in the first place.

Well, okay. He did. He was far away from home, lonely and willing to connect with anyone who would fuck him.

He was getting ready to call Chrissy to her the good news when the phone rang under his hand.

Eddie frowned at it for a moment, before he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?” the familiar voice sounded through the cell phone.

“This is he,” he replied, still confused.

“If you want to divorce me, you asshole,” Steve spat, “then have the fucking courage to tell me to my face.”

“Steve?” Eddie asked, his confusion still there, but for a different reason now. How did he get his number?

“Yeah,” Steve hissed. “Remember me? The man you left for fame and fortune? How is that going, by the way?”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “You know full well we broke up, I know Dustin still talks to you.”

He could hear Steve snap his fingers. “That’s right. You broke up. And until you tell me to my face you want to do the same, you take your annulment and shove it up your ass.”

“Stevie...” Eddie pleaded.

“Don’t ‘Stevie’ me,” Steve growled. “Fuck you.”

And the phone went dead then Eddie turned his phone around to see that yes, Steve had disconnected the call.

“Fuck.”

****

Eddie called Chrissy with the news. Two yeses and a ‘fuck you’.

“All right, Ed,” she said. “There is more to this than you’ve been telling me, so you are coming over to my apartment with the annulments you got and you are going to spill. Capeesh?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she huffed and then hung up.

Looked like today was hang up on Eddie day. He sat down at the table both annulments spread out in front of him and buried his head in his hands.

After a few minutes of allowing himself to break down, he picked up the papers and grabbed his keys, wallet, and cell phone.

Time to face the music.

****

Chrissy opened the door with a scowl, but softened when she saw how miserable Eddie looked.

He handed her the annulments and she put them her bag to take to work so that they could be filed with county clerk.

“Tell me about Steve Harrington.”

So Eddie did.

He told her about how they had bonded over a bunch of kids. Kids Steve had used to babysit, but once they got into high school came under Eddie’s wing as leader and DM of the D&D club called The Hellfire Club. How they had gotten together and when Massachusetts made it legal, him, Steve, Jeff, and Steve’s best friend Robin all drove out to Boston and Steve and he got married in a little court house.

“My Uncle Wayne was pissed he wasn’t there,” Eddie said. “But it was spur of the moment thing. We drove all night and got there that afternoon. We put on little suits and let the judge say his words.”

“That sounds sweet, so what happened?”

He let out a shuddering sigh. “Gareth graduated from high school and we got an offer to record an album in New York.”

“Why didn’t he go with you?” she asked gently.

Eddie rubbed his nose. “Because the kids still had two years left of school. He wanted to be there for them. A couple of them didn’t have good home lives and he wanted to make sure they had someone they could count on. We fought about it. Hard.”

“I’m sorry, cher,” she whispered giving his arm a squeeze.

“God,” Eddie said, his voice cracking. “The things we said to each other. It was bad, Chris.”

“And now he won’t sign the papers?” she asked.

He shook his head. “He told me the only way he’d sign anything is I came back to Hawkins and handed it to him myself.”

Chrissy nodded. “All right,” she said, “here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get a proper divorce degree written up, making sure it’s worded so he knows you won’t be going after any assets he has and then you are taking a week off of work and going down there and facing him. Because holy fucking hell, Ed, he deserves some kind of closure as do you.”

Eddie let out a heartbreaking sigh. “I don’t know if I can face him, Chris. God, I put everything else before him and broke his heart. He always wanted this big wedding. A beautiful reception where all our friends and loved ones were there. A beautiful grey morning jacket with a proper boutonniere and saying his vows across from the one he loved. And instead he got an empty court house and broken promises from a screw up like me.”

She wrapped her arms around him and let him sob into her shoulder.

“Which is why you need to go down there and give him that closure,” she murmured, “so that he can have all that with someone else. Someone who isn’t afraid.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, just let me know when it’s ready and I’ll take one of my vacation weeks to go to Hawkins, Indiana.”

Chrissy winced. “Maybe don’t sound like you’re going to your funeral, yeah?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned he was going to a funeral. Maybe not his own, but the death of the first real relationship he ever had and if somehow he made it out alive, he was never going to be the same again.

****

Part 2 Part 3

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