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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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The Championship Game of 1985 is only a quarter of the way done, and Eddie is already certain that it’s not going to be a Hawkins victory.

It kinda blows, honestly. It’s boring, like correctly guessing the ending of a movie five minutes in.

And yeah, sue him, maybe high school basketball is a legitimate source of entertainment—he can admit that in the safety of his own head, at least.

Take, for example, the first game of the ‘83 tournament, when a timeout was called with only seconds remaining: the Tigers’ last hope of winning was to miraculously sink a shot with the fraction of time they had left. The tension in the air was palpable as the team formed a huddle—Eddie couldn’t hear anything apart from students chanting, but he stood on his tiptoes and found a gap in the crowd, just in time to read Steve Harrington’s lips: “I’ll make it.”

And he had—with a goddamn stunning full-court jump shot, too, the ball falling through the net just before the buzzer sounded.

Like, come on. Eddie would only admit it under pain of death, but that definitely rivals the intensity of any worthy campaign.

But he can see none of that excitement now. The Tigers have had few opportunities to even get the ball, and whenever they do, Billy Hargrove seems to have taken it upon himself to hog the damn thing, like it’s a symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, he loses the ball—again—and his nostrils flare with anger.

Maybe that’s why Eddie notices it. He’s checked out of paying attention to the game itself, instead focusing on the jaded expressions of Hargrove’s teammates.

As the ball makes its way down center court, Eddie’s eyes are instead drawn to Steve Harrington. He looks pissed, wiping sweat off his forehead and shouting what looks like some pretty choice words at Hargrove’s back.

Hargrove doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, but for just a moment he goes completely still, and all Eddie can think is danger.

It’s covert, the way it’s all done. Hargrove’s move is quick and calculated; he steps far enough away afterwards that it looks like the whole thing is the fault of a rival player.

But Eddie sees the subtle shove. Sees Steve lose his footing.

He goes down hard.

Winces ripple through the audience. Eddie hears Robin Buckley from band suck air through her teeth, then ramble, “Shit, do you think it’s really bad? Beth Wildfire, on my soccer team, her bone, like, came out of her whole knee, you could see it, must’ve been six inches—”

It doesn’t look like anything as gory as that has happened; Steve is already up, and from the redness of his face, it initially seems as if the only thing that’s been hurt is his pride.

But as Eddie sidles to the end of the front row, within earshot of the bench, he sees that Steve can’t put his weight on one ankle, sees the telling way he grits his teeth while speaking.

“I can keep going,” he says, even as Jason Carver’s getting pulled up to replace him.

The coach barely spares Steve a glance, clapping Carver on the shoulder as he jogs onto the court.

“Get someone to take you over to the nurse.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “But I can—”

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” The coach finally looks at Steve directly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “You’re benched, Harrington.”

Steve visibly deflates. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and then he glances to the side, as if suddenly aware that he’s drawing attention to himself.

This time, when his teeth clench, Eddie thinks that it’s more from embarrassment than pain.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and he limps out of the hall—close enough that he clips Eddie by the shoulder as he goes.

Eddie doesn’t know that he’s made a decision until he’s already moving, stepping to the side.

He turns and heads for the exit.

There’s a jeering call from the bench: Mark Lewinsky.

“Aw, what are you gonna do, Munson? Nurse him back to health?”

Obscene moaning noises, punctuated with laughter.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

He finds Steve in the corridor, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. There’s a couple of pictures on the floor, class photos taken for the yearbook that had been pinned up; Steve must have inadvertently torn them down as he grappled for balance.

“Go away, Munson,” he says without looking. “Go back to the game.”

“I’ve kinda lost interest,” Eddie says lightly. He manages to watch Steve take one painful step before he simply can’t do it anymore—stepping forward, he says, “Christ, Harrington, here.”

Steve jolts away from his hand. “Fuck off, I don’t need—”

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Eddie snaps. Something’s burning in his chest, a sudden and fierce hurt. “Jesus Christ. You know what I am isn’t fucking catching, right?”

He shocks himself by saying it.

In the silence that follows all he can think is that, for once, his dad was right: he never did learn how to shut his damn mouth.

Steve’s staring at him, pressing his back against the wall like it’s the one thing keeping him upright.

“That’s—that’s not why—” He breaks off, looks completely lost.

Somewhere within Eddie’s own mortification, he takes pity on him.

He sniffs, tries to act nonchalant. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“No, I—I didn’t mean…” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s not—I just meant—” He pushes off from the wall again, wobbles until his hand finds purchase. “Just meant I can do it myself.”

Eddie feels his heart rate slow. He tilts his head. Re-examines Steve’s posture: the set to his jaw, the pained determination.

Years ago, Eddie broke his wrist at the fair, thanks to an awkward crash while on the bumper cars. It was the first summer that staying at Wayne’s had become a permanent thing, and Eddie had hidden his wrist beneath the folds of his too-large leather jacket, but Wayne met him off the ride and immediately noticed (“Chrissake, Ed. I’m not mad, kid. Just… lemme help you?”).

Eddie tried to stay silent as he got wrapped into a splint, because anything else felt like admitting to something.

Felt shameful.

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie says, shrugging. He pauses. Takes a chance. “Doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He moves forward again—slower this time. Offers his hand.

Steve takes it.

“For the record,” he says, grunting as he shifts his weight, “I could’ve kept playing. Like, I’ve had worse.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, you sure have.

Steve clearly hasn’t sensed that Eddie’s thoughts have gone to how messed up his face was last winter, because he keeps talking.

“Anyway. My own damn fault.” A rueful grin. “Didn’t plant my feet.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to… I saw. I saw Hargrove, man.”

Steve scoffs quietly. “Yeah, of course you did.”

“Shit, Harrington, way to make me sound like a stalker.”

“No, it’s just—” Steve shakes his head. “Just typical, that’s all. Remember when the fire alarm went off, last spring? You were the only one who noticed Debbie Lyons was missing.”

“Uh, so?”

Steve smiles. “So… you notice things.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

But he gives it a try as they round another corner.

“What the fuck is Hargrove’s problem with you, dude?”

Steve chuckles wryly. “I’m really annoying.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve manages to elbow him in the ribs. “But not, like, ‘intentionally injure’ levels of annoying. He threw the game, too.”

“Huh?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a pointed look. “Took out one of our best players.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but still looks undeniably pleased. “Shuddup.” He sobers in the space of taking another step and says, “With Hargrove, it’s… there’s bigger things than basketball, y’know?”

Eddie hears the just drop it underneath what’s spoken. He nods.

They’re almost at the nurse’s office when Steve sighs. “S’not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Hmm?”

“My last game.” Steve winces slightly as they inch closer to the door; Eddie tries to take more of his weight. “Had it in my head that I’d win, go out on a high.”

Eddie’s staring down the prospect of repeating senior year again—he knows all about having ideas in your head that don’t quite pan out.

“Life isn’t like a movie, Harrington,” he says.

It comes out perhaps more fond than he intended.

For some reason, Steve starts laughing like he’s heard something downright hilarious. “Yeah, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Munson.”

In the nurse’s office, they find out Steve’s probably got a bad sprain rather than a fracture (“See? I totally could’ve kept playing,” Steve insists), but that he should get it checked out at the hospital, just in case.

Ice pack in one hand, Steve makes a call on the office phone, with what sounds like a morbidly curious teen on the other end: “No, dude, there’s no blood—can you be normal for, like, two seconds and put your mom on? Thank you.”

As Steve hangs up, Eddie is very aware that the right time to leave was probably five minutes ago.

He stays put.

“This was supposed to be my last game, too,” he says.

“Was?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well. S’not confirmed yet, haven’t had my last test results back. But uh, it’s kinda like the game.” He nods in the direction that they came, towards the basketball court. “I already know which way it’s gonna go.”

There’s no judgement in Steve’s eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve been boring to watch.”

Eddie smiles. “Nah, you’re good.”

He doesn’t say that, in his eyes, Steve’s single-handedly given the school almost all of its memorable basketball moments. That his secret favourite one isn’t even a Tigers victory: there was a game when Steve was poised to take the winning shot, and a kid from Connersville fainted.

In the few seconds of confusion, Steve could’ve still taken the shot. He could’ve won.

But as soon as he realised what was going on, he refused to.

To Eddie, that says more about him than any triumph ever could.

The phone rings again; the nurse is letting a Mrs Henderson in at the front of the school to pick up Steve.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Eddie says, because there’s only so many people allowed in the office at one time.

“See you, Munson. Um, thanks, by the way. Hope next year’s championship is, uh, better.”

There’s something in the way he says it, like even while still in the building, he’s drifting away, high school in his rear view mirror.

Oh, Eddie thinks wistfully, you’re already halfway outta here, aren’t you?

Goddamnit. I might actually miss you, Steve Harrington. You and your stupid hair.

“Hmm, can’t see myself going to watch next year.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Eddie lingers in the doorway. Maybe it’s the fact that in a few weeks they’re never gonna see each other again. Maybe that helps him say it. Makes him a little braver.

He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth.

“My favourite player’s leaving,” he says.

And sure, he leaves barely a second later; he’s not that brave.

But he stays just long enough to catch Steve’s smile: startled, pleased, and perhaps just a little shy—like he’s made the winning shot after all.

#i just love the thought that Eddie used to secretly enjoy basketball ‘for some reason’ ❤️#pre steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #implied homophobia

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andvys · 1 year

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Love of my life | E.M.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight angst, Eddie is a little mean for a second but he makes it up to reader right away, happy ending, grumpy!Eddie x sunshine!reader

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary: Eddie gives you the cold shoulder because he fears his feelings for you after you confront him and he realizes that he could lose you, he makes a confession. Based on this request, also combined it with this one.

Word count: 4.2k+

stranger things masterlist

Eddie had always been good at reading people, it always came easy to him to see right through someone else’s intentions. He knows when someone is trying to play with his feelings, he knows when someone pretends to be nice only to make fun of him later on, he knows when he gets asked out for a bet or just for the fun of it, he knows that the girls he sells weed to only play nice so they can get a discount– in reality, they hate him and think he is weird, he knows it, he knows everything.

It was always hard for him to trust people that tried coming into his life, knowing that they always wanted something from him.

Then, you came along.

Your family moved to Hawkins two years ago and you settled in pretty quickly. You joined the cheer squad, befriended the popular girls, went to every single party that you got invited to, hung out with King Steve and his then girlfriend Nancy Wheeler, you always wore fancy clothes, expensive boots and designer leather jackets, it was pretty clear that your parents had money.

But you weren’t– aren’t stuck up, rude and snotty like Jason Carver or his group of friends are. You don’t brag about the wealth your parents have, the house you live in, the car you drive or the clothes you wear. You don’t put others down, you don’t bully people, you don’t look down at the ones that have less than you do. No, you aren’t like the other rich kids in school, you are kind and sweet, you are helping, always cheerful and there to make everyone smile.

The popular girls are always feared, you aren’t.

He likes you but he struggles to show it, he struggles to let you in because despite knowing about the things he can clearly see, he struggles to read you, to see through you and your intentions.

He knows you aren’t like the others that came into his life to play with his feelings, to hurt him and take something from him, you aren’t like any of those hungry vampires that came just to suck the energy out of him. You are not like them. Yet, he struggles to give you a chance.

Despite being friends with girls from the cheer squad or guys like Steve Harrington, you always come back to him. Since your very first day in school, you have been trying to befriend Eddie. Why? He doesn’t know. As far as he knows, there isn’t much that you have in common.

Eddie lives in the trailer park, you live in a big house with a pool. Eddie drives an old van, you drive an expensive car, Eddie is hated, you are loved. Maybe it’s superficial of him to judge by these things. He doesn’t know much about you personally, he never even gave you a chance, he never gave himself the chance to get to know more about you. He was scared to do it. He was scared to let you in, to give you a part of him that no one ever gets, to be vulnerable and risk getting his heart broken, knowing that you would break his heart if he gave you the chance to.

He likes you, despite telling himself that he doesn’t. He likes the clothes you wear, he loves the leather jacket especially, he loves the cute dresses and the pretty skirts, the rings on your finger that remind him of the ones his mom would always wear, there is one on your middle finger, one with an emerald stone, it’s almost identical to the one he still has in his drawer, hidden in a little box that has her belongings. He loves the way your nails are always painted a new color every week. He loves your sweet perfume and the way it fills his senses when you walk past him, he loves the way you do your makeup and the way you always greet him with a smile even when he doesn’t give a proper one back.

But he hates the way his heart flutters when you sneak notes into his locker or into the pocket of his jacket during class– he keeps every single one of them, he hates the way his heart beats faster when your hand brushes his when he walks with you to your next class on a rare occasion, he hates the way butterflies fill his stomach when you wave at him from across the room despite sitting with the girls from the cheer squad, the ones that always glare at him and talk in hushed whispers when they pass by him in the hallways. He hates the way you keep trying to get to know more about him, he hates the way you get along with the guys from the Hellfire club, he hates the way Wayne asks about you after he only met you once when you brought over homework for Eddie after he missed a school day when he was sick. Eddie hates the way you always take over his mind, the way you are always there, even in his dreams, the way you sneaked your way into his heart.

You are everywhere. When he doesn’t see you in school, he runs into you at the record store, at the diner or even the hideout. One night when he was drunk on beer and high on weed, his filter was gone and he let his emotions out, he found the note you slipped into his locker, the one that had your number written on it with your nickname and a small heart, he called you– if he wasn’t so drunk, he would have heard how cheerful your voice had gotten when you realized that it was him. He invited you to watch him play and you agreed to come right away. Ever since then, you came every Tuesday to watch him play and cheer him on, his friends teased him for it, just like the Bartender who knew Eddie since he was seventeen. Eddie pretended to be annoyed but he secretly loved that you were there just for him.

He started warming up to you, the longer you stuck around, though he was still apprehensive and careful, still expecting you to reveal that your kindness towards him was only a part of a huge prank. Deep down he knew that it wasn’t the case, you have been there for longer than anyone else has, yet he was scared and continued to close himself off from you not realizing that he was hurting you.

You are always smiling, you are always cheerful and happy, sometimes it irritates him– not because he doesn’t like it but because it makes him feel guilty for being so grumpy when you are nothing but sweet to him.

The closer you both get, the more he becomes a part of your life. He finds out more about you and realizes that you have much more in common than he thought, he finds some cassettes of his favorite bands in your room, his favorite book on your bedside table, you both share a love for horror movies– especially Halloween. He finds out that you can play guitar and he swore, the moment he saw you play and heard your pretty voice, he fell in love.

But while you let him in closer, he still kept pushing you away and it was hurting you.

“Do you have any plans for spring break?”

Eddie shakes his head, leaning back in his seat, he places the empty milkshake glass on the table and looks around the diner before his eyes settle on you, “no, what about you?”

You shake your head, “not really,” you mumble.

Eddie doesn’t notice the sad look in your eyes, he is only focused on the smile on your face, the one he doesn’t realize is fake.

“Rich and popular girl has no plans for the summer?” He snorts.

You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, you never minded his little jabs or snarky remarks but lately it’s been getting on your nerves. Why are you here? Why are you still sticking around when he clearly doesn’t want to spend time with you? He never wants you around, anyways. He only came to the diner because Gareth and Jeff canceled their plans with him and you were already here when he got here.

“I mean I’ve been asked on a date,” you shrug as you play with your straw, staring at the pink liquid in your glass, you don’t notice the way his face falls or the way he tenses up and swallows harshly.

“A-A date?” He asks.

You nod.

Eddie stares at your black nails, at your pretty makeup and your soft red lips that always look so kissable to him, your dress is new, he wonders if you put it on for someone or just for yourself.

“Who asked you out?” He asks, digging his nails into his palms.

“Mason,” you mumble as you finally look up at him, “you know, the guy from the school band?”

Eddie clenches his jaw, suddenly his chest tightens and an ugly feeling rushes through him. He doesn’t want you to go on a date with someone else, he doesn’t want to see you with someone else, you are meant to be here, with him.

“Yeah, I know him.” And he can’t even hate him, Mason is nice, not just to you but also to him and everyone else, his dad owns the record store downtown, the one Eddie always goes to, Mason works there after school and he always gives him discounts and even supports his band.

“S-So are you going?” Eddie asks, nervously.

As you look into Eddie’s eyes, you notice something that you haven’t seen there before. Possessiveness, jealousy and sadness. Maybe you should feel joyful to know that he hates the thought of you going on a date but it angers you and it makes you scoff in annoyance.

Eddie keeps giving you the cold shoulder, he keeps pushing you away, he keeps treating you with halfhearted kindness while you give him nothing but love and kindness.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like him like that.” Because you like someone else.

The tension leaves his body right away and he sighs in relief, his face visibly relaxes and he chuckles, “thought I’d lose my favorite girl.”

On a different occasion, it would have made your heart flutter and your smile would be big but not today. Today, you are overwhelmed by your emotions, the realization that you have fallen in love with him, laid heavy on your heart because you know that he doesn’t feel the same and that it will only end badly for you.

“Right,” you scoff as you tear your gaze away from him and reach for your purse, taking out your small wallet, you pick out the $20 bill and place it on the table, “like you would care.”

Your sudden outburst and the snappy tone in your voice catches him off guard a little, you have never snapped at him before, you have never glared at him, you have never rolled your eyes at him, you have never walked away from him.

But now, he frowns in confusion and watches you rush out of the diner with your purse and jacket in your hand, not even sparing a single glance at him before you push the door open and walk out.

“What the hell,” Eddie mumbles, jumping to his feet and running after you without a moment of hesitation. He rushes out of the diner, running through the parking lot before you can get into your car. Just as you open the door, he reaches for your arm and pulls you back, shutting the door before he pushes you up against your car and steps right in front of you.

Your eyes widen a little when you realize just how close he is to you, you have never been this close.

“What’s gotten into you?”

You put your hands on his chest and try to push him away but he won’t budge, he grabs your wrists and holds them tightly but gently.

“Let me go!”

“No, tell me what’s your problem, why are you acting so rude? You’ve been doing it all night.”

“Oh, I’m rude?” You scoff as you keep trying to push him away, “you are the rude one!”

He chuckles at your words and shakes his head, “you are the one who just stormed out for no reason.”

You furrow your brows as you look up at him. His eyes are filled with curiosity and his lips are pulled into a smirk, he irritates you. You’ve had enough of this, of him giving you the cold shoulder, of him teasing you, knowing damn well that you have feelings for him.

“I mean in general, Eddie! You are always cold towards me, you always act annoyed when you’re with me even when you are the one coming to me!” You say angrily, tears well up in your eyes.

Eddie’s smirk begins to fade when he sees the tears in your eyes.

“Whenever I’m at the hideout, I’m there just for you and you don’t even seem to want me there, not even when you were the one who asked me to come in the first place!”

For the first time, Eddie watches tears roll down your cheeks, the look in your eyes is one of anger and sadness but also longing. You are longing for him. You are longing for him to apologize to you, to pull you into his arms and tell you that he will do better but he can’t, not when he messed up so bad, not when you are crying because of him already.

The angel on his shoulder tells him to apologize but the devil tells him to push you away the way he should’ve done a long time ago, for your sake or his? He doesn’t know.

“A-At first, I didn’t even care that you were being s-so cold but now it just hurts. I wanna be your friend but you make it so damn hard,” you whisper as you try to blink your tears away, “you know everything about me but I don’t know anything about you–”

“Is that what you want?” Eddie asks, “to know things about me?”

His brown eyes flash with anger, his voice is laced with bitterness. He lets go of your hands and takes a step back.

“So you can make fun of me, right? You wanna know things about my family, about my dad? About what he did to my mom?” He snaps, “that’s what you wanna know? So you can run back to your asshole friends and tell them all about the trailer trash gossip?”

Your bottom lip quivers and your shoulder slump, a look of disappointment crosses your features. You would never do this, you don’t even consider those people your friends and he knows it, yet he can’t stop himself from spewing all those ugly words to you.

“That’s why you kept running after me and that’s why you stuck around for so long, right?” Eddie asks, “tell me, was it a bet? Did they set you up to this?”

You shake your head, the wind picks up a little, blowing through your hair and messing up your bangs a little, you don’t bother pushing them away, you keep staring at him through your blurry vision.

That’s what he thinks of you?

You have given him nothing but kindness, you dropped some of the people you used to call friends, because you realized how badly they treated him, because he is more important to you than anyone else.

You stare at him in disbelief, his eyes that usually give you comfort despite the coldness he only ever gives you, make you shudder in pain, his lips are set in a frown, his skin looks pale beneath the moonlight and you hate yourself for thinking that he is still the most beautiful person you have ever laid your eyes on. You hate yourself for still longing for him and you hate yourself for loving him when he clearly hates you so much.

“Why would you think that?” You whisper shakily as you clutch your purse tighter.

He blinks, he shifts a little, taking in the sight of your tear stained face, the hurt in your eyes and the quivering lip, your voice sounding so heartbroken.

He was wrong but he knew that already, he doesn’t know why he is ruining things for himself, why he is hurting you so much.

He hesitates, his hands itching to reach out to you and pull you into his arms, to hold you and hug you for the first time but he can’t.

“You’re my friend, I dropped them all because I realized how awful they all were, especially to you! You’re important to me, Eddie. And I would do anything for you, anything! I-I knew you never wanted me around but I tried because I wanted you so badly, I really really wanted you and I kept running after you like some lovesick fool but it was for nothing,” you whisper, watching the way his eyes widen at your words, he stares at you in disbelief.

Lovesick? He wishes he could speak now but all he does is stare at you in shock.

Your one sided friendship is over, you don’t have to keep any of those secrets that you thought would ruin this thing between you anymore.

“I love you, Eddie,” you whisper, biting back the sob that rises up in your throat.

His lips part in surprise and his heart leaps to his throat as tears well up in his eyes just the way they did in yours. You are telling the truth, you have always been telling the truth.

He built walls around him to defend himself from all the pain that you could cause him if you broke his heart but right now as he stands here in front of you and he looks into your soft eyes, he realizes just how big of a fool he always was.

You would never break his heart. You love him. Why? He doesn’t know. You are this sweet angel that waltzed into his life and chose to give all her love to the guy that didn’t even know how to accept it.

He doesn’t deserve you, at least that’s what he thinks.

Your sniffles break him out of his trance, his heart breaks at the sight of you. He made you cry, he broke your heart. The girl that has done nothing but bring joy into his life is now crying because he messed it up.

You wipe your tears and turn away from him, you open the door and throw your purse and your jacket into the car.

“Goodbye, Eddie,” you whisper.

Panic fills his chest and his eyes widen as he looks at you. You are leaving. You are leaving him. His heart screams at him to do something, to pull you into him, to wrap his arms around you, to kiss you and apologize over and over again, to make it up to you.

His heart starts beating faster, his hands begin to shake.

He can’t let you go, he can’t let his stupid fears control him, he can’t keep listening to the lies, his anxiety keeps telling him about you, he can’t keep doing this to you.

“I love you too!”

It was loud and probably a little dramatic but he doesn’t care, he finally said it. A huge weight falls off his shoulders and suddenly he feels free.

You freeze, shock ripples through you and you stare into blank space for a moment.

Eddie takes a step forward, staring at the back of your head with a soft look in his eyes, he reaches for your arm and he slowly turns you around so he can see your face again. When your eyes finally lock, you notice the adoration in them, one that you have never seen before because he always hid it from you.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispers softly as he tugs you closer, he raises his hands towards your face and cups your cheek slowly, touching you the way he never did before– he should have done it a long time ago, “please don’t leave me,” he whispers with a hint of fear in his voice.

You stare at him wide eyed.

“I know you wouldn’t do any of those things,” he whispers as he strokes your cheek, “I-I was just, fuck, sweetheart, I’m scared.”

“Of what, Eddie?”

“Of this,” he whispers, pointing between the two of you, “y-you’re so perfect and amazing, you do all these things for me. You support the band that no one gives a fuck about, for fucks sake! A-And I’m just a–” he pauses, sighing, “I’m the town freak!”

“Yeah and I freaking love you!”

His heart flutters in his chest, warmth fills his body, a kind he has never felt before.

“Why?” He asks softly.

You grab his wrists and step closer to him so your chest is pressed against his, “you are perfect, Eddie. You are so talented in so many ways, you are so good to the people around you, you protect your friends, you are always there when someone needs you and you always made me feel safe, even when you kind of acted like a dick. You are better than any of these people living in this shitty town, you are better than those assholes you called my friends! Y-You are just perfect to me, Eddie,” you pause, raising your hand towards his face, you brush away the curls from his face, “and you’re not a freak, by the way.”

A tear rolls down his cheek and you quickly wipe it away, letting your hand rest on his cheek, “and you’re so beautiful, Eddie.”

His heart soars at your words. He leans into your touch and closes his eyes for a moment. He could have had this for so long already but his fears have led him to push you away, to hurt you, to make you believe that you aren’t anything special to him. Like he didn’t create D&D characters based on you, like he didn’t have a bunch of drawings of you at home, like he didn’t spend every second thinking about you.

Like he isn’t utterly in love with you.

“Please forgive me for pushing you away, for saying all these horrible things to you, sweetheart,” he whispers as he opens his eyes again, “I-I know that I’m really fucking bad at showing this but, I’m so crazy about you, y/n.”

You smile at his words, blushing and biting back the excited giggle as your eyes shine with happiness again.

How could he ever be scared of you? You will never hurt him, you will never break his heart, you will never leave him. You will always be the one to stay, like he will be the one to stay with you.

“I’m crazy about you too, Eddie,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around him and place your head on his chest, hugging him the way you always craved to. He sighs at the feeling, this might be the best feeling in the world, feeling you in his arms. He spent so many moments thinking about this, finally, he gets to do it. He wraps his arms around you and leans down to kiss the top of your head.

It’s only the first time that you are in his arms, yet it feels so natural. You can feel his heart racing, it matches the beat of your own heart.

“This is so much better,” you murmur.

“Better than what?” He asks, squeezing your arms.

“Better than you being grumpy.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine,” he says as he pulls back so he can look at you again, cupping your cheeks again, he gives you a soft smile, “let me make it up to you?”

“I’d like that,” you whisper.

His eyes light up, he looks down at your lips and tucks your hair behind your ears, “you’re too good to me.”

You stand on your tippy toes and wrap your arms around his neck, “it’s what you deserve, Eddie, you deserve to be loved,” you whisper and lean in to kiss his cheek. His breath hitches in his throat, the feeling of your lips on his skin might make his knees weak, “so please, let me love you.”

He lets all his walls crumble, he lets the love in, your love. He smiles sweetly and whispers a desperate, ‘please’.

You kiss his other cheek and place your hand on his neck, “I’ll love you forever if you let me.”

“Only if you let me love you,” he says with hope in his eyes.

“It’s all I ever wanted,” you smile.

“Me too,” he admits, finally.

“I’ll love you forever, you’re gonna get sick of me,” Eddie says, making you giggle.

“I could never get sick of you, Eddie.”

“Good,” he smiles before he finally kisses you for the first time ever, letting himself fall into your arms completely, knowing that he and his heart will always be safe with you.

#Eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #stranger things angst

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zepskies · 15 days

Text

Lost on You - Part 7

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Consequences of the game.

Word Count: 5.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! More smut, show level debauchery, implied threesome, drug use, some light, some dark, violence and angst. (We're diving into some canon S3 content.)

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Part 7: Welcome to the Jungle

“Yes, well, Countess and I decided to end our relationship shortly after we wrapped on Red Thunder,” Ben explained to Jason Carver.

A little damage control could go a long way, coming from Soldier Boy himself. Vought News was one of the most convenient outlets for it.

“I know there’s been a lot of talk, but it was a mutual decision,” Ben said. “We still have a lot of love for each other. It just wasn’t working out.”

“Well, it sounds like it ended on good terms then,” said Jason.

“Yeah, so anyone who wants to run their mouth about it can come straight to me,” Ben said, with a stern set to his brows as he looked into the camera.

Jason uttered a slightly nervous laugh. “Well, I don’t think there’s anyone that brave.”

Ben shot him a smile. “Let’s hope not.”

“But are the rumors true? There seem to be some sparks between you and Sirena.”

Ben relaxed his posture a little, all while calm and controlled in his seat.

“She’s a special woman,” he admitted, with an incline of his head. “I can’t deny, we have…a connection.”

“Wow. You two have really hit it off since she joined the team,” Jason observed.

“Well, you know how it is, Jason,” Ben said. He glanced over and found you in the dark, standing next to a PA. You smiled.

“I’ve always been a man who knows what he wants,” he said.

“Shit,” Ben gritted out, his eyes rolling shut.

His gloved hand was fisted in your hair as you showed your gratefulness—on your knees, sucking him off from base to tip. He had to brace himself against the wall of one the makeup trailer. You two hadn’t even left the studio of Vought News when you took his hand and led him in here with a sensuous smile and an unspoken promise.

“You sure do have a talented fucking mouth,” he said with a smirk.

You hummed around his cock in response while your lips and tongue continued to work him over. The sensation nearly made his eyes cross. His blunt fingers bit into the wall, creating divots there and stirring up paint and plaster dust.

But if he could still talk, you weren’t satisfied. You squeezed his ass through his uniform pants, pulling him even closer. His hips rocked forward, forcing you to take him deeper until his cock hit the back of your throat.

You gagged for a moment, but you took a breath through your nose to steady yourself, blinking through the sting of involuntary tears in your eyes. Then you slid your lips back down him again. This time you relaxed the back of your throat and managed to take him fully without gagging as much.

His grip was getting tighter in your hair as muttered curses fell from his lips. You winced, but you kept going. You could feel him getting close; his thighs locked with strain, and his cock throbbed a warning in your mouth.

A cross between a grunt and a shout escaped him along with his release. You swallowed up as much of his spend as you could, but it still dribbled from the corners of your mouth and down your neck. You eventually released him with a soft pop, panting heavily.

He had to catch his breath as well while he leaned against the wall. His fingers untightened from your hair, petting your head instead.

“Good girl. Jesus,” he said shallowly.

You smiled and helped yourself off the floor. You grabbed a hand towel from one of the makeup artist stations and wiped your face and neck, ruined lipstick and all. Ben was trying to play off his recovery when you turned back to him.

His gaze on you was satisfied, and yet, still simmering with heat. He grabbed your arm and guided you against the wall. He caged you there with his hands molded to the curve of your waist. His touch was warm even through your leather suit.

“Countess may have some fireballs for me in my future,” you remarked.

Ben snorted dismissively. “Don’t worry about her.”

You weren’t so sure. She probably hadn’t done anything publicly to you yet because she was afraid of Ben. At this point, having him in your corner was protection—both for your career and for yourself.

You tipped your face up at him with a more playful smile.

“You really think I’m special?” you teased.

Ben chuckled through his nose. “You’re fucking something, all right.”

His tone was laced with amusement, but you saw the edge of it in his eyes, and you felt it with your abilities. You sensed the sincerity in him, tinged with…fondness, maybe? Even for you, it was hard to parse out.

It was definitely something beyond lust. Was he even capable of something more?

And is that what you want?

He gave you one last kiss, distracting you from that troubling thought. His lips moved slowly against yours for a change. It was affectionate, as he cupped your cheek.

“Come see me tonight,” he said when he finally pulled away. He gave you a slap on the ass to punctuate his request. Your hand wrapped around his forearm before he could turn away.

“How about a change of scenery? You could come to my place,” you suggested. He didn’t look enthused.

“Come on, I’ll even cook for you,” you added.

Ben raised a brow. “You cook?”

“Well, I’m no Martha Stewart, but I can whip up something good.”

Your smile was a tease as you slipped by him. You stopped in front of the mirror to fix your hair and lipstick. You briefly met Ben’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection. His brow was quirked. Was he waiting for you or something?

“What? I can’t go out looking like this,” you said.

At that, Ben smirked. He came up behind you and grasped your hips where you were bent over slightly. He pressed into your ass from behind, prompting you to straighten up and lean back against his chest. You couldn’t help a smile of amusement. Did this man ever get tired of fucking?

To your surprise though, he just pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His eyes once again met yours in the mirror.

“I think you’re a fucking sight,” he said, picking a bit of his spend out of your hair.

You bit your lip out of embarrassment, but you couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped you.

It made him smile.

It was another facet of your evolving plan. Now that you had Ben in hand, you needed to keep his attention. A man like him appreciated certain values, and you had a feeling a woman who could cook was one of them.

It took some trial and error and a lot of praying, but you managed to make a decent roasted chicken. Ben seemed impressed enough. He ate half of the entire bird by himself, along with two helpings of mashed potatoes with gravy, even the parmesan broccoli. But as always, you two couldn’t seem to get through dessert.

Or rather, he took the cheesecake you bought into your bed and licked the accompanying raspberry syrup off your body. By the end, you were a sticky, sated mess (as usual). The bedsheets were a disaster, but you knew what you’d been getting into when you invited this man over. You had an extra set of clean sheets waiting in your dresser.

Ben smoked a large blunt afterwards, his eyes half-lidded as he drifted towards dozing off. When you noticed his eyes closing, a small alarm went off in your mind. You leaned over and stroked his arm.

“My bed doesn’t really compare with yours, does it?” you said. Which was true. His was even more plush and soft than yours. Not to mention, his bed was a California King. Yours was a modest queen-sized.

He shrugged and blew out smoke. “‘S not so bad.”

He dabbed his blunt in the ashtray and put it out for now. He raised his arms and folded them behind his head. He groaned and settled in against your pillows. You hid your wary frown.

Shit, maybe you’d miscalculated by inviting him over. You hadn’t thought he’d actually want to stay the night.

“Nooo, don’t fall asleep,” you playfully whined. You rolled over onto his chest and laid kisses along his jaw. “Why don’t we go take a walk or something? Go on a little adventure.”

Ben cracked an eye open at you, but he soon closed it again. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Come on, super-man. Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” you goaded.

At that, Ben’s eyes opened, and he frowned at you.

“You just stuffed me full of food like it’s Thanksgiving—”

“You’re the one who went for seconds. And thirds, mind you.”

“Gave me a fucking workout—”

“Which you started.”

“I may be the strongest man on Earth, but I still need to recharge every now and then,” he said gruffly. “Keep sassing me though. When I wake up, you might just find yourself bent over my knee.”

You tried not to smile. Sometimes his grumpiness was just too amusing. It didn’t seem like he was going to get out of your bed though.

Sighing in defeat, you got up and tugged at the ruined sheets he was resting on.

“Come on, at least let me change these.”

With an annoyed huff, Ben got up just long enough for you to remake the bed. He hunkered back down before you were done, making it harder for you to lay down the last one correctly, but you rolled your eyes and gave up, tossing the sheet half-made over his bare legs.

You went into the bathroom to clean yourself up. Hopefully by the time you came back, he’d be asleep. You’d make your way to the couch with a spare comforter and sleep there.

It might’ve seemed strange, but you had never actually slept with him in the same bed. It wasn’t personal. You’d made it a habit to always sleep alone.

So after a quick shower, brushing your teeth, and slipping on an old shirt to sleep in, you padded quietly back into your bedroom. Sure enough, Ben looked to be fast asleep. He laid on his back with an arm curled over his stomach. Like this, he looked peaceful. Even docile.

The thought made you smirk as you went to grab a spare blanket from your closet. You draped it over your arm and went to your nightstand next. You just wanted to grab the book you’d been reading from the top drawer. You did so very carefully, knowing Ben’s hearing was sharp.

Once you’d successfully retrieved the book and slowly shut the drawer, you turned to head for the door. A hand shot out and grabbed your elbow. You gasped and jolted slightly, but of course it was just Ben. His fingers wrapped around your arm. His eyes were open, barely.

“Where’re you going?” he rumbled.

“Um, just to go to the couch and read for a bit,” you lied on the fly. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

With a dismissive huff, he tugged you back and hauled you effortlessly back into the bed. You yelped in surprise. The book went tumbling off the side of the bed while the extra blanket got coiled between your legs. That strong arm curled around your waist. Possessive.

You turned your head across Ben’s shoulder and stared at his face. He shot you a smirk, then closed his eyes. His chest moved with his deeper breath, as it evened out in sleep.

You frowned. The man could be demanding, sure, but you never expected him to act this way. It did cause a flutter of something to rise in your belly. Something warm, and equally unexpected.

You sighed and allowed yourself to relax against him. You rested your eyes. Just for a little while, you told yourself. Then you’d try to extricate yourself.

Somehow, you never got around to it.

You woke in the morning to something warm and firm under your cheek. Your eyes slid open, and you were met with the bare chest of your lover. He was awake, sitting up against the headboard as he sipped at a mug of coffee. He glanced at you with a subtle smile pulling at his lips.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” he said.

You smiled sleepily. Yawning, you turned and curled yourself into him without really thinking about it. But then it hit you, how intimate this was…and how much that conflicted you inside.

You eased away from him with a faked yawn, stretching your limbs, and gaining at least a few inches between you. Ben watched you do it with a certain glint of knowing in his eyes.

“You moan in your sleep,” he remarked idly.

You shot him a look of surprise. “I do not.”

“Yeah, you do. I fucking heard you,” he said. His lips pulled at a smirk. He set his coffee down and rolled over, trapping you underneath him. He thumbed at your chin. “Here I am thinking, ‘This dirty little girl. Didn’t get enough last night, did she?’”

You bit the inside of your lip against a smile. Your face warmed with a blush.

“Is that why you don’t want me in your bed?” he asked. “You embarrassed, sweetheart?”

At that, you frowned. “No, it’s not…”

“Because believe me, I’ve seen weirder shit,” he said. “There was one girl who sleepwalked into my fucking closet. That one was a headscratcher… Aw hell, one girl even took a shit in my bed.”

You gaped. “Seriously?”

He grimaced at the memory. “And tried to blame her Pomeranian. Think I don’t know a human shit when I see one?”

You blinked in bewilderment and disgust. “Dear Lord.”

Ben stroked your side.

“So you got nothing to worry about,” he said, a slow grin curving his lips. “Some little sex noises don’t bother me.”

You laughed a little, but then you chewed on your lower lip, looking up at him. You didn’t know what compelled you to be honest in that moment.

“It’s not that, it’s just…ever since I got my powers, I’ve felt safest sleeping alone,” you said.

Ben’s amusement faded. “Why’s that?”

“I’m not like you,” you admitted, touching his chin with your fingertip. “When I’m asleep, I’m vulnerable, just like everybody else.”

He seemed to consider what you were saying with furrowed brows. You itched to sweep his hair away from his eyes, but you kept your hands to yourself.

“Well, you’re safe with me,” he said eventually.

You tilt your head at him. You wondered if he really meant that, or if it was just part of the façade of “charm” he was trying to portray. Even with your skin touching his, you couldn’t quite read his heart to parse that one out.

You had to pull back on the connection before he realized that you were trying…

But then again, maybe it was you who didn’t want to know for sure.

Christmas came around sooner than you expected. This time of year was heavy on your heart, after your mom’s death.

“I’ll be back before New Year’s,” you said, leaning up to give Ben a kiss. You were in his apartment saying goodbye. His personal chef was in the kitchen cooking up something that smelled amazing, but you had to leave. You had to pick up your father in Brooklyn and drive both of you over to your brother’s house in Queens.

“What’s the winter like in Indiana?” Ben asked in curiosity.

You blinked. Fuck if you knew, but he still thought you were a smalltown girl from the boonies and the cornfields.

“Um…cold. Snowy. Same as here, basically, but the wind isn’t going to cut through your bones when you turn a corner around a skyscraper,” you said.

Ben gave a mild shrug in response. Like he was ever going to go to Indiana.

“Well, gotta go catch my flight,” you fibbed, but you grew curious about something as you peered up at him. “What’re you doing for the holidays? Seeing family, or…”

Again, he shrugged. “Nah, I’ll be here. I don’t get into that corny festive bullshit.”

You frowned. Something told you it wasn’t just that he didn’t do Christmas. He didn’t seem to have any family, or friends outside of Vought, for that matter. If you can count any of those people friends.

Was he really just going to be here all alone until New Year’s Eve?

Perhaps for the first time, you felt a bit bad for him. You knew you couldn’t invite him over for your holiday plans, however.

So you gave him another kiss goodbye, and you left.

You returned in time for Vought’s annual New Year’s Eve bash. According to Tommy and Tessa, it was legendary. First, there was a huge banquet held for all the big wigs and the investors and the press. That was just to load up on good food and champagne.

The real party was the afterparty, made up almost exclusively by supes employed by Vought—from all across the country. Of course, Payback were the guests of honor, with Soldier Boy leading the pack on free booze and lines of drugs smoked or snorted across most available surfaces.

You felt overwhelmed by all of it at first. In fact, you almost left the party. But then you saw a very drunk Countess in a little red cocktail dress, offering Ben to take a shot of tequila out of her mouth. It stirred irritation in your gut.

You grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol, went over to them, and subtly touched Countess’s bare shoulder.

Give that shot to Tommy, you compelled her.

With that small trill of your power, Countess stood straighter and beelined straight for Tommy. She grabbed him by the back of his head and surprised him with a deep tequila kiss.

Gross.

You grimaced at the sight, but when you looked back at Ben, he was smirking in amusement. He slid an arm around your waist and spoke closely in your ear.

“Let’s have some fun.”

The next morning, you sat up in bed with a groan. Your head pounded with a horrible hangover of at least three different substances. You wiped the remnants of powder from your itchy nose. And you were naked.

You drew the sheets to cover up to your breasts, which accidentally pulled the covers off another warm body beside you—a mystery woman. Someone you vaguely recognized as another supe from the party. She woke with a wince.

“Ooh, fuck, where’s the bathroom?” she asked. You were bleary-eyed, but you managed to point over to the left. She nodded and slowly got out of bed.

You wiped at your face and realized that Ben was there as well. It was his bed, after all.

He was slowly waking up too, looking more than a little fucked up himself. You groaned and slid under his arm, resting your head against his chest. Mistakes had been made, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit.

Way to ring in 1984.

There was a reason you didn’t like group training sessions. You watched with a grimace from your corner of the matt, along with the TNT Twins. For sure, they did not want to be next in the ring with Ben. His idea of training wasn’t very…constructive.

“Lighten up, Gunpowder. I’m just playing around,” Ben said, as Countess helped the younger man off the floor in concern. His eye was already swelling up, along with his bloody lip. He was too exhausted to even get off the mat. You’d tried stopping Ben fifteen minutes ago, but he hadn’t budged.

He now rolled his eyes and walked away from Gunpowder, waving a dismissive hand. “You fucking pussy.”

Your brows furrowed with your frown. You were cautious as you approached him again and lightly touched his arm.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked. “Ben, he’s only eighteen.”

He shot you a stern look.

“Don’t fucking start with me.”

He was definitely tougher on the men than he was on you or Countess, but still, it wasn’t easy to watch. This was the side of him you didn’t often see when you were alone with him. With you, he was still crass and arrogant, but sometimes, his harder edges softened the slightest bit.

In front of the team, he was Soldier Boy. He could be callous, and even cruel. It reminded you of every mission you went on together; every brutal, fatal move against the “bad guys,” and every innocent life that got caught in the crossfire.

The double doors to the gym opened, and in came Black Noir. You grew concerned, as you sensed anger coming off of him in waves.

“You’re late,” Ben said, crossing his arms. “We started at 3.”

“I really wanted that movie,” said Noir.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“I just got off the phone with my manager,” Noir continued. “It’s a no-go on Beverly Hills Cop.”

“Oh, that,” Ben said, with a roll of his eyes. Your own widened a fraction.

Noir stepped forward, his hands balling into fists. “I was born to play Axel Foley. Why would you say all those horrible things about me to Don Simpson?”

Your mouth fell open in shock. Don Simpson was a big deal. He’d produced Flashdance just last year.

“Jesus, Ben. Really?” you said.

“Zip it, Sirena,” Ben snapped. Your mouth fell shut, even as you glared at him. He rarely called you by your supe name behind Vought’s closed doors.

“The guy’s supposed to be funny,” said Ben. He pointed back at Noir. “You’re. Not. Funny.”

“Well, I…could’ve been,” Noir said, a little weakly.

If there was one thing Ben couldn’t stand, it was a weak spine.

“You’re not good enough!” he barked. “Now shut your cockhole, and get to work.”

“But—” The moment Noir grabbed the other man’s shoulder, you knew it was going to be bad.

Ben turned and threw a swift punch that would’ve rattled any supe’s spine, even if they did have super strength. It wasn’t even a contest. He beat Noir down bloody on the mats, no matter what you or the others shouted out.

You were horrified, and you couldn’t stand by and watch anymore. You hurried over and tried to touch Ben’s arm. Maybe you could calm him down.

“Ben, stop! He’s had enough—”

He meant to just rip his arm out of your grasp. Maybe he’d shove you out of the way, out of his way. But the momentum of it sent you to the floor, with the wind knocked out of you.

It managed to briefly cut through his anger. He paused, seeing the shock and the stricken look on your face. You were looking at him like he was some kind of animal.

Deep down, he felt like one too. He just couldn’t allow himself to show it.

“That’s what happens when you don’t stay the fuck out of the way,” he growled.

You blinked wide as wet tears gathered in your lashes. It struck a cacophonous chord inside him, down to his bones.

He turned away from you to glare down at Black Noir. This was his fucking fault.

“You think you can be me?” Ben sneered. “You’re not a movie star. You’re not shit. I see you getting outta line again, trying to ‘move on up,’ I will put you in the fucking ground. Understood?”

Noir, fucking pussy that he was, stayed there on the ground covered in his own blood. By the time Ben turned back to where you’d fallen, you were no longer there.

You were gone.

You left the gym in tears. You pulled a staff member aside and let her know that Black Noir and Gunpowder were going to need medical attention.

“Are you okay?” she asked in concern. “Do you need—”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, even though you were still crying. It was more embarrassment at this point. You knew what Ben was from the very beginning. You’d just never thought he would…

Sucking in one deep breath, you steeled yourself. You wiped your face dry and forced your expression to ease into nothing. Blankness.

Show them what you want them to see.

He tried to come see you that night, but you wouldn’t let him into your apartment.

He sent flowers—some bullshit roses, with an apology written on the card.

I'm sorry.

You threw them in the trash.

You were done playing this game. It wasn’t worth it.

He wasn’t worth it…

Or so you felt, for the first few days. You began to wonder just how much shit Countess had to put up with for the years that she was with him. You wondered if he’d ever hit her.

You replayed that moment over and over in your mind. You knew if you hadn’t intervened, Ben wouldn’t have shoved you. He hadn’t truly meant to, you thought. With his strength, you were lucky it hadn’t been worse.

He didn’t mean it, you tried to rationalize. Even as you tried not to think about Gunpowder, or Noir, bloody on the floor.

Because at the end of the day, being with Ben was still good for your career, and if you kept denying him like this, he’d likely just go back to Countess.

So, even though it took a huge chunk out of your pride, you ventured to the elevators and up to the penthouse suite. By now, your feet knew this path by heart, even if your stomach churned with unease.

You stood in front of Ben’s door for a minute, just thinking. You knew this was the lowest you’d ever been. Was your career really worth debasing yourself like this?

Well, your question was soon answered when the door swung open. You hastily stepped back as a trio of smiling, giggling women came out from the apartment, all of them high-heeled and scantily dressed. Behind them was Ben in a black silk robe. His hair was a mess, and he had that post-nut look on his face, along with a layer of drying sweat. They all stunk like weed and sex.

Ben paused in the doorway when he saw you. His amusement faded. You let the girls slip past you without comment. Then you crossed your arms and looked up at him flatly.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. At least, nothing good.

“Hey,” he said.

You nodded. “Right.”

You turned from him and started walking down the hall the way you came, but Ben reached out fast and grabbed your wrist.

“All right, look—”

He turned you around, only stopping short when you gasped, your eyes glowing with thinly veiled power on reflex.

“Let go of me,” you demanded. Your tone was firm, but you both heard the fear in your voice. His jaw clenched.

It seemed Ben did have a sliver of a heart somewhere inside his chest, because he let you go. You continued on your way, scrubbing furiously at the sting in your eyes.

“Dad, I just…I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you confessed. You were sitting on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands. You didn’t want to burden your brother, who had his own family, his own problems. So you called your dad first. Tears slipped down your cheeks and bled into your jeans.

“I think I need to come home,” you sniffed.

“Aw, honey. I’m sorry to hear you’re having such a hard time,” he said. “But you knew it was going to be difficult. You’ve been doing so well too.”

“I know, but—”

“And your mom’s medical bills might be taken care of, but I’ve still got the house to pay off. If it wasn’t for my back, I’d be out there working two and three jobs like I used to, but you know, I just can’t do it anymore.”

You rubbed at your tired, bleary eyes and sighed.

“Yeah. Okay, I know,” you said. “I’m going to help you, don’t worry.”

“So you’re gonna stay right? You’re going to work it out with Soldier Boy? You two do look good together, I’ve gotta say. What happened exactly? You didn’t uh, really explain that part.”

Your lower lip trembled. “Actually, Dad, I’m getting a page. Let me call you back later, okay?”

“Oh. Well, okay, sweetheart. I’m here for you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Your next conversation was in Arthur Cohen’s office. You’d marched in while he was on the phone and said:

“I’m quitting the team.”

Arthur, professional that he was, gave you one look before he told whoever was on the other line that he’d call them back in a minute. Then he turned to you with his full attention, folding his hands on his desk. His many gold and silver rings shone in the lamplight.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he asked. As if to say, Did I just hear you correctly?

You remained firm. “I want out of my contract. I’m quitting Payback.”

Arthur needed a beat on that one. “…Ah. I see.”

He held out a hand to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Please,” he gestured. You reluctantly obliged.

“Okay, I understand you’ve been going through some hard times—”

“Do you?” you intoned, tilting your head.

He nodded. “Believe me, I do. The problem is, you’re under a two-year minimum contract. You’re only about a year in. If you want out, no problem. I can do that for you.”

“Good,” you said. “Let’s make it happen.”

He held up a hand. “However. If you back out of this deal, remember that we invested in you. You’ll have to give back the advance we gave you, plus everything we’ve spent on your marketing, your new suit, your training, not to mention that little incident we smoothed over a couple months ago. A lot of lawyers and red tape. It’ll drive ya nuts…but it all adds up, unfortunately.”

Fuck. It hit you almost like a physical blow, a deep churning in your stomach. What kind of soul-sucking contract had you signed? Had you even read the fine print on that one?

For a long moment, you stared at Arthur’s desk in silence, to a point where he began to fidget slightly. You raised your head.

“All right,” you said, with a perfect smile. “I understand.”

Then you got up and left.

Arthur heaved a breath of relief. Fucking supes.

His door opened again, but to Stan Edgar. Arthur still didn’t know what to make of this guy. There was something about his calm, unfazed demeanor that Arthur didn’t trust.

“Sure, screw my lunch break. What can I do for ya?” he drawled.

Stan raised a brow and handed a thick file to him.

“I just got off the phone with Director Kasey from the CIA,” he said. “We’re approved for Nicaragua.”

AN: 🫣 Ooh, don't hate me loll. It's gonna get worse before it gets better. I did warn about morally charcoal characters in this series, especially Ben himself. (He's got a lot to learn, and so does Sirena, for that matter.)

And now, we hit another pivotal moment...

Next Time:

“We’re all playing a game, Irving. Just at different levels,” you said. “For example, what were you talking to Stan about?”

You’d seen them a couple of hours ago, hidden behind a fortified stone wall. Noir stopped walking. You were curious enough to follow suit.

“Something that could change everything for all of us,” he said. “You included.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’re you—”

Shots rang out in the clearing.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 8

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wynnyfryd · 6 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 58

part 1 | part 57 | ao3

@steddie-island said i wasn't allowed to cut this lol. cw: angst, canon typical horror, mentions of minor character death

“Lucas called me a ghost today.”

Steve almost laughs, bitter and sharp. Sure. Why not? What’s one more ghost in his passenger seat?

He doesn't really want to talk to her right now, if he's honest. It's been fifteen minutes and she still hasn't apologized for trying to rob him, or explained where they're going, or what spooked her, or why this car ride was so urgent that he had to risk his job for it — a job he actually needs, considering his, well, everything. She's hardly said anything beyond the occasional "turn here" or "next left" while sulking with her forehead pressed against the window.

But he can tell she has something she needs to get off her chest, so he swallows his annoyance and offers, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she says back. Doesn't elaborate.

He gives her another minute to gather her words, watches her open and close her mouth a few times in his periphery, but nothing comes out. She scoffs at herself and abruptly changes the subject. “Eddie was being extra… well, extra today.”

“Was he?” Steve asks, his bones itching under his skin. He doesn't want to talk about Eddie. Doesn't want to think his name.

“Yeah, he, uh- he was kinda manic? He was, like, running all over the cafeteria and starting shit with Jason Carver...” And he's only half-listening, anger simmering as she goes on and on, because she promised that Dustin didn't put her up to this. Said that this wasn't some bullshit excuse to get him to talk about Eddie or hang out with Eddie or think about Eddie or kiss and make up with fucking Eddie, and now she's just talking about him, and it-

And it hurts; god, it still just hurts—

"....Then he started rambling about how he can’t wait to get the hell out of here when he graduates.”

Searing-stabbing-burning-sharp. Steve clutches at the flare of pain in his chest, the crushed soda-can feeling where his heart's supposed to be. His head pounds. He follows her next direction onto a winding, tree-lined road, the canopy suffocating overhead, and his skin feels too dry — too tight, too small, shrink-wrapping him inside of it, because he knows where they are now. Knows the tilt of the rusted lamp shade, the shape of the weather brick paths. He's tasted the metal tang of this stop sign in his nightmares.

Fuck. Fuck.

"Cool," he grits out as he drives through the cemetery gates. Past stone and wrought iron, past the empty central fountain. He hasn't been here since July. “Good for him.”

“Steve-"

“Why are you telling me this?" he snaps. He throws the car in park under an old oak and turns to glare at her, barking a frustrated, "Huh?"

Immediately, he feels bad for raising his voice. Feels even worse for the way she flinches away. The naked fear on her face, her hand reaching for the door. He takes a long, deep breath and lets it out slowly through his nose. “Sorry. Sorry. Just-" There's a leak inside him somewhere; some infected, gaping hole, and his stupid heart keeps pumping all his blood into the wound. "Why are you-?”

“Look,” she says sharply, "I know it sucks. To talk about him." She's staring at the rows of headstones up ahead, her face gone steely with determination, her shoulders squared, her big eyes wide and a little wet when she turns to meet his gaze. “But whatever you were— whatever happened, it just… it really messed him up.”

Good. "You sound like Dustin."

"Maybe Dustin had a point."

"Since when?"

She throws her hands up, nostrils flaring. "I'm trying to tell you that I think he still cares!"

“Yeah? He’s got a seriously fucked up way of showing it if so!”

“Yeah, well some of us don’t know how to show it!”

And oh.

Oh.

Silence blankets them like dust. Eyes locked; harsh breaths. This has nothing to do with him and Eddie, does it?

Lucas called me a ghost.

Steve sighs and slumps forward, his forearms on the wheel, his chin resting on his wrist. The late afternoon sun is warm through the glass, and his head gives another nasty throb as he looks out over the hill, at the polished stones glinting in the golden hour rays.

His dad is buried here.

A lot of people are.

“Hey,” he murmurs, rolling his neck to look at her. The skin under her eyes is red. "Sorry for yelling."

She sniffs quietly. "Me, too."

He reaches over and gives her hand a quick squeeze, keeping his voice low and gentle. "You know you can just talk to me, right? Max, talk to me. Please.”

Her bottom lip quivers. “It’s nothing, okay?” She sinks down in her seat, crossing her arms to shield herself. “Shit’s just been… it’s just been weird all week. Like- like bad weird, and I don't know if I'm just going crazy, or— I mean, maybe Ms. Kelley's right, maybe's it's just— but it feels like…”

"Like what?"

She holds a hand out flat in front of her; flips her wrist over slowly so her palm faces the sky.

Steve's blood runs cold. He thinks of his own nightmares: the weird visions, the headaches, the persistent haunted feeling.

"I don't know anything for sure," she insists, rushing to reassure him before he can fully start to panic. "Seriously, don't freak out; I haven't, like, seen any gates or anything, it's just— bad dreams. Nose bleeds. I don't know." She hoists her backpack onto her shoulder. "I thought coming here might help."

He catches her by the arm, raking his eyes over her face, looking for any signs of danger. "Is there anything I can do?"

She shakes her head no and tugs free of his grip, and then she's slipping out of the car, letting the door fall shut behind her, and Steve watches her crest the hill while sirens wail inside his head.

—

part 59

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

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #max mayfield #my writing #my fic #i rewrote this 42 goddamn times #also i promise reunion is still coming #max had a lot to say apparently lol

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jamdoughnutmagician · 2 years

Text

From Me to You.

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary:Eddie finds a love letter pushed through his locker, and he’s determined to find out who his secret admirer is.

Warnings: Nothing that I can think of, just tooth-rotting Valentine’s day fluff! Slight use of "y/n" sorry I couldn't escape it!!

Word Count:1,867

Authour’s Note:My life is so devoid of any kind of romance, so I though what better way to resolve that than to write some cutesy Valentine’s Day fic with everyone’s favourite metal-head? Maybe I'm posting this a little early, but I'm pretty pleased with how this turned out (since I suck at writing fluff) and I wanted to share it!

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Eddie, oh no, that couldn’t be further from the truth. However, having to admit to your crush on your best friend? Well that was a whole other story.

So, your big plan was to leave little secret admirer notes in Eddie’s locker in the week leading up to Valentine’s day on Friday. It was an easy way to confess your love to him, without the sting of rejection coming to bite you in the ass.

The Monday after your last class you waved Eddie goodbye as he made his way to the drama room where the Hellfire club would be meeting for their latest campaign. Although you didn't share his love of Dungeons and Dragons, you were still as close as friends could be, only you didn't want to be just his friend.

Waiting for him to disappear out of sight, you look around to check the coast is clear before you slip the hand-written note into his locker. Pushing the folded up piece of paper through the vented slats in his locker, you make your way out of the school.

All you have to do now is just have to wait until tomorrow to find out if your little secret mission was successful.

_______

Eddie strolled into school that Tuesday morning, opening up his locker to put away his things, but as he did so, a small folded up piece of paper fell to the floor. Piquing his curiosity, he bent down to pick up the paper. Unfolding it carefully his eyes scanned over the nice hand-written message inside.

Your smile is my favourite thing and it brightens my day

He glances at the swirling joined up writing and how the little hearts dot the I’s and he finds his face warming with a blush.

“What’ve you got there then, Ed?” Gareth asks noisily, causing the rest of the members of Corroded Coffin to turn their heads to their lead guitarist.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Eddie says defensively as he stuffed the note in his pocket.

Holding his hands up in surrender, Gareth dropped the subject and they guys went about the rest of their school day.

_______

The next day, Eddie goes to open his locker and surprisingly another note falls at his feet.

Quickly he bends to pick it up before anyone notices that he’s received another note. Unfolding the paper he reads the message.

You give me butterflies

He reasons that it must be the same person that it was from yesterday, because the handwriting is exactly the same and the I’s are still dotted adorably with the same little hearts.

As quick as his hopes get up at the thought of someone writing him little love notes,his thoughts are pulled in the direction that this must be some sort of prank. It had to be, right? Why else would anyone leave the school’s ‘freak’ sweet notes like this if not for some kind of twisted joke.

Jason Carver and his gang probably thought the idea that someone might have a crush on Eddie, laughable. Yeah, he thinks to himself, that sounds more plausible.

Speak of the devil.

Jason and his crew make their way past him laughing loudly and obnoxiously. Right, that's it.

Eddie stormed up to Jason, poking an accusing finger in his face.

“I bet you think this is really funny, don’t you Carver?”

“What do you want, freak?” Jason barks out.

“You, leaving those little notes in my locker.” Eddie jabs.

Eddie looks at Jason for a moment, a look of genuine confusion gracing the features of the basketball player, his brows knitted together, before he huffs out an incredulous laugh.

“In your dreams, Munson” Jason laughs in his face as he pushes past Eddie.

Okay…So maybe this wasn’t a joke. Well who was sending Eddie anonymous love letters?

_______

I want to hold your hands and kiss your face

Another day, another note. Eddie was still none the wiser as to who exactly was putting these love letters in his locker. Right, he thought to himself, he was going to need some help if he had any chance of finding out who this secret admirer of his was.

Strolling through the doors of Family video, Eddie had decided to recruit the help of the only person he could think that would actually be of any help to him. Even if it did mean that he would have to show all the notes he’d received with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

“Wait, so let me get this straight. You’ve been getting anonymous love letters put in your locker?” Steve asks

“Well..yeah?” Eddie answers.

“...And you’re absolutely sure you have no idea who this is?” Steve presses.

“Well at one point I thought Carver was doing it, you know, for a joke..but I confronted him about it yesterday and that turned out about as well as you can imagine” Eddie explains

“Do you have some that you want it to be?” Steve quizzes, as he watches the metal-head’s expression change instantly, flushing scarlet rising from his chest to his cheeks and the tips of his nose. “Aha!” -Steve exclaims, jabbing his finger towards Eddie- “So you are thinking of someone then?”

Luckily, Eddie was saved from the embarrassment of admitting to his crush on one of his best friends by Robin interrupting his and Steve’s conversation.

“What are you two dorks gabbing about over there?” She shouts making her way from the back of Family video where she was rearranging a stack of horror films.

“Munson here has got himself a secret admirer.” Steve says, cocking his thumb towards Eddie. “Said he’s been getting these little love notes slipped in his locker” Steve continues with his teasing.

“Oooh!! Let me see ‘em!!” Robin squeals excitedly.

Scattering the piece of paper out onto the countertops, the boys watch as Robin reads through each of the messages. Her eyes scan over the words, and her eyebrows draw together, and her expression one of surprise.

“You alright over there, Rob? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, which considering what we’ve been through, is the last thing that should have you looking like that.” Steve joked.

“Shut up, Dingus.” Robin says, shushing Steve holding her pointer finger up at him. “Eddie, I think I might know who your secret admirer is.”

The two boys look at Robin with wide eyes and bated breath.

Robin turns her back and hot-foots it to the back room of Family video.

“I thought you were going to tell us who it is?” Eddie shouts after his friend.

“Hold your horses will 'ya, Munson?!” she shouts back over her shoulder.

Robin returns with a wide grin gracing her freckled features as she slams down a sheet of A4 lined paper on the counter top.

“What the hell’s this?” Steve said, looking even more confused than before.

“These are the notes that I borrowed from y/n, for Kominski’s class yesterday. Now I don’t know about you guys, but I’d say that that swirly handwriting looks very familiar to me.” Robin says proudly, like she’s decoded the most cryptic of secret messages.

Eddie and Steve lean in closer to compare the handwriting in the love letters, to the handwriting in the classroom notes.

“I mean, apart from the little hearts that are dotting the I’s, I would say that is the exact same handwriting” Robin points out.

“So, y/n, huh?” Steve says, letting the thought hang in the air.

If Eddie was blushing before, his whole face must’ve looked like a tomato at this point,

“Judging by your very red and embarrassed face, I’m going to guess that you like her too, right?” Robin asks.

Steve and Robin look at Eddie as he shyly scratches the back of his neck

“Okay, yeah I like her..I like her a lot actually.”

“But isn’t tomorrow Valentine’s day?” Steve throws out.

“Oh this is perfect!” Robin jumps up and down excitedly. “Here’s what you’re going to do…” she began as she brought Eddie closer to tell him her plan.

_______

Sticking to the plan that Robin (and Steve who got dragged into it by Robin) helped him with, Eddie got up early for school for once in his life. That morning he showered, and dressed in a clean Black Sabbath shirt (that he’d previously ironed that evening, earning a raised eyebrow from his uncle, and hung up ready to put on in the morning.)

Dressed and ready to leave, he picked up the bunch of red roses that he’d bought from the Valentine’s day section in town yesterday evening after leaving Family Video.

He’d called you and asked if you needed a lift on the way to school, and knowing you the way he did, you would much prefer to ride with him in his van than take the school bus.

“Son..” Uncle Wayne called out to Eddie as he was just about to go through the door. “Good luck today, you be nice to that girl, alright?” His gruff voice huffs out.

“I will Wayne, I can promise you that.” Eddie throws over his shoulder with a wide grin as he makes his way to his van.

_______

Pulling up to your house, he parks his van and takes a moment to catch his breath before grabbing his bunch of roses and walking to your front door.

Squaring his shoulders he raises his knuckles to your door to deliver a confident knock.

“I’m coming!!” he hears you shout from inside the house.

You unlock the door to see your best friend hiding his face behind a bouquet of beautiful red roses before handing them to you.

“These are for you. Happy Valentine’s day” he says as you kindly accept the flowers from him.

Although you had smiled when he’d given you the flowers, he could still sense your confusion at his gesture.

“I got your notes…I thought they were really cute y’know and truth be told when I read them I kind of hoped they were from you.” he rambled, feeling that familiar heat flushing across his cheeks.

“How did you figure out it was me?” you ask.

“Well it wasn’t easy, but Robin and Steve helped me figure it out…mostly Robin, though..” he chuckles.

There’s a moment's silence between the two of you where you’re both looking into each other’s eyes.

Feeling bold, you rise up on your tip-toes to place a quick peck to Eddie’s cheek. You feel him smile brightly under your lips.

“Thanks for the flowers, Ed. They’re beautiful”

“You missed.” he says with a look of disappointment in his deep brown eyes.

“Huh?”

“You missed.” he says again, smirking as he points to his lips.

“Take me on a date first, and then we can see about that kiss, Ed” you giggle.

“Let me take you to the movies tomorrow? We can hold hands and do all that cute shit that you’re supposed to do on a first date” he looks to you excitedly.

“I’d love to!”

“Great! I’ll come pick you up at seven?”

“It’s a date” You smile back at him.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things s4

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ebongawk · 5 days

Note

ok ok ok ok ok HOW ABOUT a drunken kiss with hellcheer 👀 and if u make it sad so help me god i WILL fly to u and beat ur ass

4. A Drunken Kiss

They were playing fucking spin the bottle.

What kind of full-fledged high school seniors played spin the bottle? Wasn't that reserved for, like, thirteen-year-olds? But Stacie Mancini had drunkenly shouted, "Oh, my God, we should play a game!" and someone had suggested this, so now a bunch of almost-twenty-somethings were gathered in a half-assed circle as an empty bottle of vodka spun around and around.

Stacie landed on Andy Fuckface, and she looked mildly disgusted, which. Good for her. She still sucked his face for a solid five seconds. Andy landed on Tracy Mathews, Tracy landed on Jason Carver. Jason didn't even look at his fucking girlfriend before he stuck his tongue down Tracy's throat.

Chrissy, for all intents and purposes, looked like she didn't even want to be there. She flinched when Jason leaned toward the center, but otherwise made no show of being an active participant in the game.

And Eddie, with his front row seat to the action from the dealer's perch in the corner, had to wonder why no one seemed to fucking notice how uncomfortable she was.

Staying sober for these gigs was a goddamn chore. While it used to be fun to watch the chaos and debauchery unfold, being privy to the disgusting nature of inebriated human teenagers got old.

Maybe he was a little cynical. Because this shit had stopped being fun around the exact same time he caught the aforementioned Ball-Fondling Carver sneaking upstairs at a different party with Theresa Peretti.

It was the first and only time he'd ever considered getting involved.

Like, okay, so maybe sometimes he felt a little bad when he caught people who had significant others mackin' on those who were not the aforementioned significant others. But fuck it. Not his circus, not his monkeys, right?

He'd ruined that little unspoken rule of his that Monday at school. Seeking Chrissy out, small and drawn and sad as she was, and had straight up told her what he saw. No beating around the bush, no bullshitting.

Whether or not that had anything to do with the fact that Chrissy treated him like an actual human being was meaningless.

She'd just blinked at him. Then, instead of the anger or upset he'd been expecting, she let out this vague little laugh.

"Oh. Um. Thanks, Eddie, but... Could you maybe keep this between us?"

"What? Did you hear me, Cunningham? That asshole--"

"No, I know. And, truly, I appreciate you telling me. Just... Just trust me, okay? I'll handle it."

He'd wanted to scream. To rip his own hair out and throw it at her like that would lift the starry-eyed curtain she was clearly hiding behind. But that was, like, two months ago, and he still saw her tucked under Carver's arm day in and day out, so Eddie had resigned himself to bearing witness to her silent suffering on the off chance he caught a glimpse of her in the hallway or any of their shared classes.

Why the fuck anyone would stay with a whole ass cheater made no sense, so Eddie stopped trying to understand the popularity masses.

"Oh, shit, that's pointing at the freak," someone whispered, drawing Eddie's attention out of his own head and back into Chance Kinicki's hazy basement. He blinked, meeting Chrissy's gaze from the other side of the room, and put the pieces together.

It had finally been her turn to spin the bottle, and it had landed between two of the nearer bodies and was trained on him.

Which. What the fuck.

"Nah, man, let her spin again," Carver slurred, waving a loose wrist in the air. "She's not gonna lock lips with trash. Right, babe?"

Oh, he was such an asshole. Eddie wanted to knock him down a peg or five. Preferably while sober, so he wouldn't have the excuse of his intoxication to blame getting his ass handed to him by quote-end-quote trash.

Chrissy said nothing. She just stared at him, wearing something in her expression that Eddie couldn't identify. After a few tense, quiet seconds, Chrissy stood, stumbling a little through her own drunkenness, and made her way across the room. Shaking off Jason's grabby hands as she stepped around people and bottles before coming to a swaying stop directly in front of Eddie.

"Hi," she muttered, looking down at him with ruddy cheeks and glassy eyes.

Shit. Shit. What the fuck was happening? Eddie's hands twitched where they were sitting on his thighs, staring up at her like she was an angel come to deliver some new commandment.

Thou Shalt Not Lust After Unattainable Girls Who Are a Little Too Intoxicated to Make a Rational Decision. Or something.

"Uh," he managed, the word strangled up from his throat like she'd wrapped her dainty little fists around it. Like all of his oxygen already belonged to her. Fuck, all the oxygen in the room belonged to her. "Hey, Cunningham."

"'M supposed to kiss you," she continued, tilting her head to one side as her eyes wandered along the grooves of his face. Settling on his lips once she'd taken her fill. "The game says so."

"I wasn't playing the game, princess," Eddie reminded her gently, glancing around her to see the audience watching them with rapt eyes.

Chrissy just shrugged. Like that was enough of an explanation.

"That's okay," she answered. "The bottle knew, Eddie. Right? It knew that I..."

Then, before he could react or breathe or fucking think, she was petting his hair back from his face, leaning down, and pressing a slow, soft kiss right to his lips. Like a fucking deer in the middle of the road, he froze, unable to parse together half a thought that wasn't whoa.

Fucking fireworks.

He finally got enough wits about himself to pull away, because she was drunk and he wasn't and none of this was right, which wasn't fair but that was neither here nor there.

"Oh," she breathed, blinking at him, some of the haze in her eyes clearing. Her cheeks had gone even pinker, lips still half-puckered like she wanted to lean back in and taste him all over again.

"Hey!" Jason barked, struggling to stand from the floor, blazing eyes staring daggers at Eddie. "Get off her, freak!"

Dude, he wasn't even touching her.

"Shove it, Jason," Chrissy responded before Eddie could ask him if he was serious. She leaned toward Eddie, half-shielding him with her body, and he really thought she was gonna fall into his lap, she was so goddamn unsteady. She managed to stay firmly planted, using a hand on his shoulder to keep herself straight, and actually stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend.

Eddie wanted to die, it was so fucking cute.

"Babe--"

"I'm dumping you."

The fucking gasps that erupted across the room were actually comical. Eddie couldn't have stopped himself from laughing if he'd tried. Which, he did not, because it was too goddamn funny. The cackle he let out drew the attention to him, but, Jesus, fucking worth it.

Before he realized what was even happening, Chrissy was taking his hand, pulling him along behind her as she escaped up the stairs. Her considerable strength barely gave him a moment to grab his box of tricks as she hauled him from his gig as the weekend fun-bringer.

Why he was part of her little storm-out, he couldn't explain. But he wasn't exactly unhappy about it, either. As it was, for effect, he raised a devil horn at Jason's flabbergasted glare on his way out.

"Wow," Chrissy said as they escaped into the chilly April night. "Wow! I just did that!"

"Yeah, uh––"

"Oh, shoot, we gotta get outta here," Chrissy stated, glancing back over her shoulder. Grimacing and rushing him toward his van just as the front door of Chance's house swung open, an absolutely irate Carver standing in the muted light.

They ran, Chrissy surprisingly steady on her feet, and laughed the whole way to his van. He unlocked the passenger seat, diving across the center console and yanking Chrissy in after him. Carver had slipped at one point, the alcohol probably rushing around painfully in his head, and was struggling back to his feet just as the rest of the laundry basket team finally came out. Chance and Patrick were both obviously trying to hold back their laughter, but Eddie didn't bother finding out what happened next.

He started the van and peeled the fuck outta there.

Chrissy was still laughing, although it was much quieter now. No longer filling the night air with little tinkling notes of her joy, it was more like the soft music of wind chimes outside. Following them as they ate a few miles of concrete in the otherwise sleepy town.

"So, uh. You want me to take you home, or––?"

"No." He kinda expected her to be staring out the windshield or her window, but instead she was looking directly at him. Not offering him a modicum of relief from the weight of her gaze. "I do not want to go home like this, Eddie."

"Uh..."

"Can we, like, go to the lake or something? Please?"

Well, how the fuck was he supposed to say no to that?

The back of the van was stuffed full of blankets, pillows, a mattress from Gareth's younger brother's bunk bed and a few couch cushions off the spare couch on the porch, because he and the guys had gone down to Indianapolis to see Metallica during the week and had slept in the van instead of coughing up the dough for a motel room.

Chrissy made herself right at home, making the bed until it was nice and soft before throwing open the back doors of the van where he'd parked at Rick's house. Staring out over the lake as it twinkled with starlight. Like a bunch of white Christmas lights were hidden beneath the lapping waves.

He sat next to her, trying to breathe around the way she cuddled into him like she fit right in the circle of his arms. Which. Yeah. She did, but if he thought about it too much, he'd drive himself crazy, so.

They talked a little bit about how she'd just publicly dumped her boyfriend. About how relieved she was, now that the farce was finally over, because she'd been wanting to do that since way before he told her about the cheating. How happy she was to be there with him.

Which. He didn't know how to comprehend that, really. So he let it sit in the air, soft and gentle as the breeze that made music of the leaves outside, and breathed it in. Pulling it into his lungs like her little admission would coast through the oxygen in his blood and make itself part of his fucking DNA.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

God, how was she so cute? The sleepy cadence of her tone, still slightly slurred with alcohol.

Shit. Denying her felt stupid as fuck.

"Ask me again when you're sober, yeah?" he said, desperately playing at lighthearted. "Might change your mind in daylight."

"Mmm," she hummed, her voice so fucking adorable. "Doubt it."

Hand to God, he hadn't fucking meant to fall asleep. He didn't know where Chrissy lived, exactly, but he figured he'd let her sleep off the drunk for a little bit before he roused her awake and got her address.

Yeah. Stupid move on his part, awakening when the sun hit his eyes first thing in the morning.

Because now he knew, intimately, the way Chrissy blinked back into consciousness in the morning light. The way the sun's rays, just barely peeking up over the wooded horizon, hit her hair and made it glow like fire. The way she sniffled, looking around in confusion before her eyes landed on him.

The way she smiled, bright enough that her eyes slipped closed and her nose scrunched up.

"Morning," she breathed, rolling over from where she'd been plastered to his side so she could stretch. Said so casually, like she wasn't ruining his entire fucking life just by existing.

"Uh," he started, his voice gravelly. Half-choked and terribly embarrassing. "Morning, Cunningham. Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Chrissy hummed, finished with her stretching. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she rolled right back into him. Tucking her face into his shoulder for effect.

Yeah. He was dead. He'd, at some point between school yesterday and Chance Kinicki's house, died, and now he was having those crazy imaginations where his unstated dreams were coming true.

"'S'okay," Chrissy mumbled into his chest. Prompting him to wrap his arms back around her. Because why the fuck not? "I, um. I definitely didn't mind."

Yeah. Heart attack. Stroke. Car accident. Something.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yep?" God, the way his voice broke, you'd think he was going through fucking puberty again.

"Can I kiss you again now?" A breath, like she heard the way his goddamn heart skipped a beat, before she added, "I promise I'm sober now."

Oh fuck him.

"You, uh––" He coughed, clearing his throat. "You actually want to?"

Shit, she giggled, and he fucking felt it against his ribs.

"Yeah," she said, easy as pie. Easy as Sunday morning. Easy as anything. "Yeah, I've, um. I've wanted to for, like, a while now."

He would've sworn he felt Cupid's arrow hit his blackened little heart.

"Chrissy, you can kiss me whenever you want," he croaked. "Like, uh. Now, later, tomorrow. Y'know. Open real estate here for you."

Christ, that giggle. He wanted to swallow her whole.

She tilted her chin back, that gorgeous grin lighting up his dingy van better than any spotlight ever could.

"That's good," she murmured, staring up at him. "'Cause I get the feeling I'll take you up on every offer."

Jesus Christ, he hoped so.

(And she did.)

kiss prompt!

(and a very happy birthday to @astorytotellyourfriends 😘🩷🖤)

#hellcheer #eddissy #stranger things #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #eddie munson #my writing #astorytotellyourfriends #kiss prompt #alcohol #cw alcohol #alcohol mention

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bree-cheesy · 2 years

Text

His Favorite Girl

Eddie Munson! x fem!reader

Part 2 Part 3

A/N: I know, it’s been a minute, I’m sorry (not really). Haven’t been super motivated to write so hopefully this redeems me a little. I wanted to write something along the lines of Drug Dealer Eddie and innocent-ish reader being his favorite client. I tried to make it filthy to make up for not giving you guys any fics for a minute so please forgive me! It is a bit short, but I’m not sorry lol. I hope y’all think it’s good!!

Credit to @eddiemunsonsource for the gif!

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI OR I WILL MELT YOUR FACES. Sort of maybe friends to lovers. Porn with a little plot. (kissing, dirty talk, rough!eddie, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, slight mean Eddie (calls you a slut once), cock drunk reader, choking, rough p in v, bruises formed, (but good ones if you know what I mean) some aftercare), cuddling at the end, language, drug dealing. No use of Y/N. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 1668

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“That’s it, baby…. Just like that, fuck!” Eddie groaned and moaned as your mouth wrapped tight around his cock, sucking him for all he was worth. Lip gloss sliding up and down his shaft. His hand gripping your hair in a tight fist, his head thrown back with his jaw hung open and slack.

---2 hours earlier---

You were Eddie’s favorite buyer. He always gave you a discount and even sometimes gave you it for free. You noticed he’d always give it to you for free if you wore that skirt that made him need to jerk off every time you left his trailer. Tonight was no different at the start. Wearing that little skirt, prancing up to his doorstep, sliding on some more “Bomb Cherry” lip gloss you bought at the mall a few days ago. Knocking you heard a few curses muffled behind the door before it swung open and Eddie was in front of you, holding onto the door frame with a white knuckle grip. He looked sweaty and tense. “Hey, sweetheart. Y-You’re early!”

You smiled up at him, eyes beaming. “Yup! I have a date with Jason tonight and he wants to smoke with me, so I wanted it early.” Eddie couldn’t stop that sinking feeling, but kept a smile on his face.

“Of course,” He opened the door for you to come in. “Come on in.”

He shut the door when you got inside and disappeared down the main hallway. “Should’ve given me some notice, sweetheart. Probably would’ve been a bit more prepared.” He came back into sight with a small plastic baggie.

Eyeing the bag you noticed it was more than usual. “Eddie, that’s too much.” You scrambled for your money in your small coin purse. “I-I only brought a 20… That’s not enough for that.” You looked up at the pretty boy standing tall over you, teeth pressed into your lip.

“Babe, you know you don’t need to pay. Don’t even worry.” He winked at you. “Think of it as a gift for being such a loyal customer.”

You shook your head and dug around for more money. “N-No, I can’t… You’d be losing out on money…” Managing to find another 20, you grabbed his hand and thrusted the two bills into his palm. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the bills in the collar of your tank top.

“Sweetheart, I have half the high school buying from me. I raise prices for them because they’re desperate.” He ran his fingers up the side of your neck, causing chills to go up your body, his thumb lightly rubbing against your jaw. “I promise, giving you free weed is not hurting my business.”

You pouted, opening your mouth to argue, but you gasped softly when he pushed his thumb past your lips, making you shut up. He looked down at you with a hunger you hadn’t seen from him before. It made your knees weak and you almost had to grab onto him for balance.

“But, if you’re so desperate to pay for it, you can do something for me…. Only if you want to of course.” He leaned close to you, pressing you up against him. “Ditch Carver and stay here.” You whimpered and he smiled at you as he felt your tongue press up against his thumb. “Ditch the Jock and stay here so I can show you how you deserve to be treated. You come here in this tight little skirt and it takes so much in me to not bend you over the table and fuck you stupid.” He takes his thumb out of your mouth and drops that hand to the back of your thigh.

“Eddie… please…” You whined softly and pressed more against him.

“Please what, baby?” He leaned in and ran his nose up your neck, starting to guide you to the wall.

“Touch me…” Your voice was a whisper and the words barely came out before he shoved his hand up your skirt and dragged your now soaked panties down your legs just enough to slip his fingers between your folds.

“Fuck, baby… So goddamn wet for me.” His middle finger was at your clit in seconds and you whimpered, falling into his chest as he rubbed it gently. You kissed his neck, sucking softly, wanting to mark him up.

He picked you up and carried you down the hallway towards his room, throwing you on the bed and stripping you of your clothes before he swiped his band t-shirt off. You bit your lip and looked at his inked up chest as he admired your body. Soft skin under his fingers. His thumb running over the small heart stick and poke tattoo on your hip. He grabbed your ankles, roughly pulling you towards him and he dropped to his knees between your legs. Gasping, you instantly grab onto his shoulder, feeling slightly dizzy with pleasure. He kissed softly up your thigh and suddenly bit down, making you squeal and tighten your grip on his shoulders.

“God, you smell so fucking good. Wanna bottle it up and wear it as cologne.” You didn’t get a chance to think before his mouth was fastened to your clit. You cried out and grabbed onto his hair, moaning and bucking into his mouth. He grunted and held onto your thighs with an iron grip that will no doubt leave some bruises. Bruises you’d wear proudly. “So fucking good, baby… So much better than I imagined…”

You looked down at him with a grin, a sudden ego boost flooding your brain. “Y-You’ve imagined this?” Still a little breathless from the nonstop abuse to your pussy by his mouth. He nodded and swirled his tongue around your clit.

“Of course, sweetheart. How could I not. S’fucking pretty everytime you come here. Wanna make you mine, baby…” You moaned at his words and licked your lips. He slipped a finger inside you and curled it just enough to hit that spot that made you melt under his hands. Those big hands you’d imagined wrapped around your throat every night.

“I-I’m yours, Eddie… Promise.” You gasped and felt another finger go inside you. He grinded against his face, the feeling of your orgasm getting so close. Just as you were about to, he stopped and kissed up your body. You whined and he kissed your neck. “Eddie…. Come on, I was so close…”

“I know, baby, but when you cum, it’s gonna be on my cock.” He kissed you hungrily, commanding your lips. You kissed him back and wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled back and wrapped his hand around your throat before pulling his pants and boxers off. You whined and reached out for his cock, your mouth watering with a sudden need for it. He chuckled and let you up. Your lips instantly attached to it and he groaned, fisting his hand tight in your hair.

“S’it, baby… Just like that, fuck!” He threw his head back as you took him in all the way and gagged on him. He thrusted his hips against your mouth and you moaned around him. Tears filled your eyes from his tip poking the back of your throat and they streamed down your face. He lightly slapped your face and held onto your head with both hands before roughly fucking your face. God, you were in heaven. The need to please Eddie filled your every thought. “Such a good little slut for me. Yeah? You like my cock deep in your throat? F-Fuck…!” He pulled out, letting you get a gasp of air before going right back in. You tapped his thigh a few times, signaling him to stop. He pulled out. “Are you okay?” Sudden worry filled his eyes.

You nodded and laid back on the bed, sniffling softly. “Yeah. I just need you inside me, now…” Whining softly you spread your legs wide for him.

He bit his lip and looked around for a condom before pulling it on. “Fuck, my favorite girl ruined under me… Never thought I’d see this outside my dreams.” He grabbed your neck again and you smiled, loving the feeling of his rings digging into the sensitive skin on your neck. Another bruise you’d wear with pride. “Gonna go in sweetheart, M’kay?” You nodded and he slowly slid inside you, groaning at how tight you were wrapped around him. You moaned and squeezed your eyes shut, getting used to how big he was inside you. He started to thrust in and out, slowly at first, letting you get used to him. After a minute or two, he went fast and rough, wanting to ruin your pussy for every other man. He grunted and groaned, still holding onto your neck. You reached up and dug your nails into his back, no doubt scratching it up. “Mine. You’re mine, now, baby. All mine…! Fuck!” He let go of your neck and leaned his head down, sucking hard on your nipples while fucking you harder.

“Eddie! M’gonna c-cum!” You cried out and came hard around his cock, squirting out as he kept rubbing your clit. You sobbed in pleasure and buried your face in his neck. He groaned and came inside you after a few quick thrusts. You both breathed heavily and he gently pulled out of you, making you hiss at the empty feeling. He threw the condom away and came back to your limp figure on the bed with a wet washcloth to clean you up. He rubbed at your hips.

“Sorry baby, got a little carried away.” He eyed your neck, the red spot forming a bruise matching the ones on your hips. You shook your head and sipped the cold water he gave you.

“S’okay, I like them…” Your voice was scratchy and he smiled at you, kissing you once on the lips before getting in bed with you. You snuggled up to him and shortly fell asleep before he could say anything else.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fics #Smut #friends to lovers smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x fem!reader smut #eddie my love <3

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serasvictoria · 1 year

Text

Title: Roller Queen

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: A heatwave has hit Hawkins and bored out of his mind, Eddie tries to find something to do. He finds that something in the Palace Arcade…

Word Count: 6997

Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Semi-public sex. Oral sex (male receiving). Vaginal fingering.

Notes: This is what you get when you spend quite some time on Pinterest during a heatwave and suddenly finding a picture that just inspires you. The picture is all the way at the end, it just worked for me.

There is also one mention of the name Arlo in this and that's what I called the unnamed Hellfire member aka Corroded Coffin’s bass player, also known as the titular “Freak”. There’s an entire backstory in regards to why I gave him that name, but I won’t bore anyone to tears with that particular HC.

Betaread by @adrille88 Thanks again ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

If he was really honest with himself, Eddie had to admit that he kind of liked heatwaves.

All the assholes would leave the town of Hawkins, abandoning the hot and humid place like a bunch of rats leaving a sinking ship, and they’d go spend a couple of days at their log cabins near some lake, leaving all the less fortunate residents behind.

Not that he thought that he was less fortunate, fuck no. He wouldn’t want golden boy Jason Carver’s shiny life. Sitting next to mommy, wearing his Sunday best and listening to daddy as he preached fire and brimstone to the congregation as they clutched their crucifixes. Lord knew where the bastard was now. Probably forced to suck up to some senator’s kid whilst he pretended that he wasn’t from some backwater shithole in Indiana.

So yeah, heatwaves weren’t all that bad. Besides, you could dress for the heat.

He was currently lazing about on the porch in an old pair of jeans that were cutoff right above the knee. His Motörhead shirt (which he had also modified after he tore it making it sleeveless as well as a little bit too short) was in a crumpled heap right next to him.

The only thing that was bugging him at the moment was trying to decide what to do.

It was the first summer after graduation, so he should have been spoiled for choice, but sadly that was not the case at all.

Steve and Robin were at work, like Jeff, and he didn’t feel like bothering them at their workplaces. Again. Dustin was at some kind of robotics camp. Wheeler had joined the Byers family for their last summer in California before they moved back to Hawkins. The Sinclairs were visiting relatives, as was Gareth. Arlo had been signed up for summer classes by his mother because he was failing a couple of classes.

So there was currently no one that he could shoot the shit with.

Usually Eddie wouldn’t have any problems on his own, he’d almost grown accustomed to it when he was a kid, but he was bored out of his mind at the moment. Didn’t help that he was coming off his previous high as well.

Absentmindedly scratching his neck, he brushed away some of the locks of hair that had come loose from his ponytail and that were sticking to his sweaty skin. He’d already taken a cold shower earlier and even that wasn’t enough to fight the heat.

The AC had also gone on the fritz at the worst possible time so staying in his bedroom wasn’t an option. Which meant that jacking off was off the cards, too. Because hey, when in doubt, jerk off. It was basically an unwritten rule.

Everyone that was still in town had either gone to the community pool or the woods, but those weren’t really places where we wanted or could go to. Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock were places that were worth considering, but you never knew if you’d disturb anyone whilst there and some people didn’t take too kindly to having an audience. And even if they were keen to have onlookers, that didn’t automatically mean that they’d want him there.

There wasn’t really much else to do apart from aimlessly driving through town until he found something that was worth his while.

Getting to his feet with a groan, he stretched out, grabbed his discarded shirt from the couch and put it on. His keys and cigarettes were on the small table next to him so he pocketed the packet of smokes and then locked the front door (even if no one was insane enough to attempt to steal anything from them, what with them having the good old Munson name and all).

As expected the van was hot as hell, so he rolled the windows all the way down on both sides before starting the engine and heading out of the trailer park in search of something to do.

Driving around town, he’s reminded of that Ghost Town song by The Specials (Robin was going through a bit of a ska phase at the moment) and before he knew it he was humming it which was in stark contrast to the Megadeth song, Wake Up Dead, that was currently blasting through the speakers.

Despite having previously decided that he wasn’t going to go to Family Video, he found himself driving in that direction anyway. Maybe Eddie could convince Steve to give him access to his backyard so he could have a dip in his pool in exchange for a couple of joints? Worth a shot.

This brought him right past the arcade, which was practically next door, a place that he hadn’t set foot in for quite some time. Together with Harrington, he seemed to have earned the dubious privilege of dropping the kids off there quite frequently, but he never joined them despite Henderson asking him to do so every single time.

He wasn’t about to have his ass kicked by some kid at-

Eddie swore that his eyes were seconds away from rolling out of their sockets.

All that he caught was a quick peek through the open doors of the arcade, but it had been enough to make him punch the brakes of his van and he came to a standstill right in front of the building.

Eddie had never parked his van so fast in his life.

When he got out of the van and walked across the asphalt to his destination, nerves set in, which was insane when he really thought about it. Why was he even nervous? Was it because he was seconds away from shooting his shot and potentially getting horrifically turned down?

The name of the place was lit up in purple neon on the awning over the doorway. Unbelievable that this was something that could make him set foot in the place after all this time, having seemingly graduated from it many years previous, constantly proclaiming that it wasn’t “his scene” since books and board games were more his thing.

That was a better excuse than saying that he had simply been unable to afford it. Money had always been tight in the Munson household and wasting a couple of quarters on something that he couldn’t even take home with him or put in his belly seemed pointless.

There’s an acne stricken teenager sitting on a folding chair next to the open door, a look of annoyance on his face that betrayed the fact that he didn’t want to be here at all.

“There’s a change machine inside. You know where to find me if it stops working,” he says with a bored tone when Eddie passes him by. The kid doesn’t say it, but his line sounds well practiced, leading him to believe that the aforementioned machine must have some issues.

It also sounds like the kid has no intention of going inside unless he absolutely must.

So that means that no one will see Eddie crash and burn if he does. And if he doesn’t, there won’t be anyone to disturb him either, so it was a win-win situation no matter what.

It was cooler inside, but only slightly. The AC was old and far too small to cool such a large space, but it still tried to do its job to the best of its abilities.

There were plenty of noises around him, machines beeping in an attempt to make him look at them, to make him see what he could play if he would only give them a couple of coins. He barely even seems to notice them at all, not caring about what the games have to offer him.

Not now.

The row of games that were visible from the door are all vacant. No one’s there to pour over them, desperately trying to win, so he moves on to the row next to it as he tries to find what he’s looking for. He’s about to turn the corner into the third, already somewhat convinced that his mind had been playing tricks on him, that the heat had fried his brain, when he comes to a sudden standstill and simply stares at the image before him.

Eddie had not imagined it, hadn’t gotten a severe case of heatstroke, hadn’t witnessed a mirage or anything of the sort. Even if mirage was probably the best word to describe what he was looking at.

You were leaning over the controls of one of the machines, tapping away at the buttons and moving the joystick back and forth.

That in itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Dustin often spoke of you with awe in his voice, regaling everyone with how good you were at the games at the arcade. You and Max held a lot of the high scores and that was pure catnip to the younger boys who only cared about trivial things like that. The fact that you were older only seemed to make you more appealing to them.

A fellow nerd.

An older fellow nerd.

An attractive, older fellow nerd.

Eddie had never really gotten it until now, but that was more down to what you were wearing, which was a lot more revealing than what you had worn when you still walked through the hallways of Hawkins High. Hell, Principal Higgins would probably have a heart attack if someone wore that to school.

In an effort to fight the heat, you were wearing a pair of cut off blue sweatpants, which were so short that they might as well be hotpants, and a dark blue bikini top. And on your feet were the signature roller skates that were very much an extension of yourself as it were.

He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen you without them when you weren’t in school or working. There’s even a story about how you kicked Andy Collins in the balls with them once, but no one has ever been able to confirm that particular story since it was very much based on hearsay.

It is a fact however that Andy doesn’t seem to sniff around you quite as much as he does with every other (single) female in town. Had to be a reason for that.

The corner of your mouth twitches, so you definitely noticed that you had an audience of one by now. It would be rude not to go over to say hello, right? Right? So Eddie starts moving, unsteady on his feet all of a sudden, like he had forgotten how to walk simply because he was in the presence of such beauty.

“Hi,” he croaks out and he raises his hand in greeting. “Pretty hot outside, huh.” He mentally slaps himself for saying that, because why on Earth had he decided to state the obvious? Guess that meant that trying to act cool had gone straight out the window. His remark makes you snort though, which he supposes is a win of sorts. “Anyway. Hi.”

“Hi,” you say with a grin, doing your best not to laugh, as you look up for a few seconds before focusing all your attention back on the game. “Don’t see you round here a lot.”

“Not much of a gamer,” Eddie admits, which technically wasn’t true, but he didn’t think that he had to clarify that he was talking about video games. You would have seen him around the arcade a lot more if he was into those.

“So why’re you here then?”

“Thought I’d check the place out. Henderson’s always talking about it.”

“Ah, Henderson,” you sigh and there’s a hint of exhaustion there that almost makes him laugh. “And that’s enough to get you to show up?”

“Maybe not just that.” His eyes skate over the curve of your ass and when he looks back at your face again, he can see that your eyebrows are raised. Subtlety had never been his strong point. “Busted,” he chuckles.

“Hm,” is all that he gets out of you before you look back at the screen once more.

Eddie tries his best to feign an interest in the game that you’re playing, Bubble Bobble, by trying to keep his eyes peeled on the screen. Even thinks about commenting on the cuteness of the green dinosaur that’s blowing bubbles at his enemies, but he doesn’t out of fear of looking like a complete fool. He actually opens his mouth once with the intention of commenting on how well you’re playing, but what the hell is he supposed to say?

‘Good game, hot stuff, but do you wanna get out of here and play a real game in the back of my van instead?’

Bad idea. Really bad idea. He’d prefer it if his nuts didn’t meet the boot of your skates. That would be a horrible ending to what was turning out to be a pretty good day so far. He’d like to end it on a high if he could, preferably with your phone number scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket.

Damn, this was easier when he could hide behind his usual bravado, but he’d already fucked that one up from the moment that he started talking to you. Hell, he couldn’t even hide behind his hair, because it was in a messy ponytail right now.

Still, you haven’t told him to fuck off just yet so it wasn’t a complete disaster. He leans back against the side of the machine next to yours and he really looks at you this time.

God damn, he had always thought that you were pretty, but fuck, you looked good enough to eat right now. He catches the glint of a bead of sweat as it rolls down your neck, following it as it makes its way down your skin and ultimately disappears into the fabric of your bikini top.

Eddie can almost taste the salt on his tongue if he thinks about it hard enough.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Your voice cuts through the first wisps of the daydream that was forming in the back of his mind, one that already had his cock twitching in his pants, seconds away from begging him to excuse himself so he could jerk off in his van.

“I would if I had a camera,” he bites back.

You shake your head and sigh and a couple of seconds later the game makes a noise, something that even a newbie like him knew wasn’t good. As if to emphasize this, the words “game over” appear on the black screen.

“Thought you were good.”

“My heart wasn’t in it,” you say while the screen starts flashing the ‘insert coin’ message on the screen in an attempt to lure in new players. “It’s this damn heat.”

“Maybe you don’t do well with an audience.”

“You’re shitting me, right? You know how many times I have those little shitheads breathing down my neck?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “A lot?”

“Yup. I barely get any alone time as it is.”

There’s a sudden flush of guilt and he can feel his cheeks burn as they begin to color a dark shade of pink. He’s bothering you. You never said it, but that's what he reads between the lines.

“You want me to leave?” He’s already turning away from you, instantly apologetic, so he’s surprised when he feels your fingers touch his wrist.

“Did I say that?” He’s watching your hand, noticing the gentle pull on his arm which doesn’t stop until he makes no move to leave anymore. “Did I?”

Since you repeat yourself, you’re obviously expecting an answer. The only problem is that the heat combined with your touch are kind of short circuiting his brain.

Eddie eventually manages to get out a small “No?” which he considers a victory. At least it shows that he’s still capable of speech, if only a little.

“No,” you repeat after him and he’s instantly relaxed when he finds that his presence does seem to be wanted after all. He can’t stop his expression from falling a little when your hand lets go of his arm. “But you say you’re not a gamer. Maybe you just haven’t found one that you like yet.”

“Sweetheart, I haven’t been in here for years,” he says with a casual wave of his hand. “The flashing lights are about to give me an epileptic fit.”

“Was that a joke?”

“Yeah?”

“That was so funny I forgot to laugh,” you deadpan.

The flat tone of your voice makes him snort as well as make him wonder why he has never tried talking to you before.

He supposes that it was a form of thinly veiled jealousy over the kids liking you so much. But who cares about them? And why is he thinking about them so much anyway? Being in the presence of a hot girl combined with the stifling heat was really doing a number on his brain, that was for s-

You clap your hands together in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time since he was with you.

“Anyway!” you exclaim and clear your throat before continuing. “There’s a couple of old games in the back. Maybe you’d even recognise some of them, oldtimer. Want me to show you?”

“Which ones?”

“Pong, Death Race, Space Invaders, Asteroids… ring a bell?”

“Always was quite partial to Death Race actually.”

“Figures,” you grin. “Come on then,” you say as you push yourself away from the cabinet and start leading the way.

Eddie lets you take the lead, because it means that he can walk behind you and his eyes drop down immediately, unashamedly ogling your ass as you glide through the arcade.

On your way to the back, he hears the crinkling of plastic and watches you remove the orange wrapper from a lollipop before it disappears into your mouth. He swallows hard when your jaw moves, your cheek bulging as you keep moving the candy from side to side. He’s practically salivating as he tries very hard not to let his mind come up with images of how your cheeks would look if there was something else in your-

“There she is,” you break through his reverie again and he briefly wonders if it’s intentional, if you have some kind of inbuilt radar that alerts you whenever a guy is about to have some very impure thoughts in your vicinity. “Death Race.”

You point out the black cabinet at the end of the row of machines, the two steering wheels making it instantly recognisable. You come to a standstill right next to it and wave your hand over the front of it, like some bikini babe that they sometimes use to advertise cars.

“Goddamn,” he whistles in wonder. “Didn’t know they still had this one.”

“They do,” you reply as you stand to his left. “Don’t think they ever get rid of a game if it’s still working.” You dig around in your pocket and hold out a quarter to him. “Here. First game’s on me.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie takes the quarter from your fingers and puts it in the slot. “I’ll try to make it last.”

Unfortunately it doesn’t last that long. Sadly, he’s a little bit rusty. Not that he was any good when he still came here, but he finds himself wanting to impress you as much as he can.

Eddie’s on his fourth quarter when there’s an almost sickening crunch from your direction. Eddie looks up from the screen to see you chewing on the hard candy of your lollipop and he catches you tossing the stick in a garbage bin behind you. He wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue when your hand suddenly connects with his chest and he’s pushed back against the wall.

“Hey, wh-”

-at the hell.

The rest of the sentence comes out all muffled, because your lips crash into his hard. There’s barely time to close his mouth and you enthusiastically take advantage of that by licking into his mouth, your tongue connecting with his, and he can taste nothing but oranges. When he starts kissing you back, he can taste the same artificial nectarine flavor in your lip gloss.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you in closer and you sigh when his hands start rubbing up and down your back. You even giggle when one hand dips down lower and grabs your ass cheek.

There’s no opposition from him when you push him to the side, in between the opening between the black cabinet and the wall, one that the both of you fit into neatly, effectively shielding you and him from the view of others just enough.

Not that there was anyone else there apart from the bored employee that was still sitting outside and even he wouldn’t be able to see what the pair of you are doing from where he’s sitting.

“Aren’t-“ You pull away just far enough so Eddie can look in your eyes for a split second, see how blown out your pupils are, and then you dip your head down so you can drag your lips over his neck. “Aren’t you scared that anyone might see us?”

“No.” Your reply comes far too quickly and your teeth graze his Adam's apple slightly. “Why?”

“Wh- are you serious?”

“Mhm,” you hum against his skin. He gasps when you suck on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. “So sensitive.”

“Fuck.” At least Eddie can sort of peer into the space behind you now. He catches no movement whatsoever. And it’s not as if the arcade is rigged up with security cameras either. You stick your hands underneath his shirt, your fingers finding his nipples with ease and pinching them. “Damn, sweetheart.”

“What?” You look up at him, batting your eyelids almost too innocently, and when he doesn’t reply, you lick a stripe from the dip in his collarbone all the way up to his ear. “Cute,” you say directly into his ear before you gently tug on his lobe with your teeth. “You’re cute.”

Your intent couldn’t be more clear however. You wanted him and you were laying it on so thick that it was hard to ignore. It was all in the hungry way that you kissed him, filled with lust and longing, full of heat and desire.

Even though there shouldn’t be any mistaking your intentions, Eddie still wonders when it would be acceptable to invite you into his van. If he does it too early, you might smack him for being a perv, but if he does it too late, you might mistake it for disinterest, which would be a million miles off from what he wants. If only he had talked to you before, he would know what you were like a bit more, but all he has to go on are stories from Henderson and a handful of rumors.

There’s an unexpected brush of your fingers over the front of his jeans and it’s so light that he mistakes it for being accidental at first, but when it happens again and then again, it becomes a bit more difficult to ignore.

“Oh?” The triumphant tone in your voice is impossible to miss, because now you know that he was already half hard before and that was definitely because of you. “Thought that you had a couple of rolls of quarters in your pocket, but I think I was wrong.”

“You use that line a lot?”

The words came out too easily after all so naturally he’s curious, maybe even a little jealous, but he would never admit to that.

“Please,” you chuckle, “you think so little of me?”

“I don’t know. Don’t know you that well. Unfortunately.”

“You could get to know me. If you want to.”

“Hmmm. Tough question. Let me think about it.”

Eddie meant it as a joke, obviously, but he doesn’t miss how your brows furrow and how your hand stops moving, even if you can’t seem to stop your fingernails from scratching at the fabric.

His hips end up chasing your hand when you pull it away.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie blinks, suddenly confused. “Is that a trick question?”

“Nope, just an honest one.”

“No.” It’s his turn to answer quickly now. And Christ, he feels like such a fucking dickhead for giving you the impression that he might not want this. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good,” you reply with a grin that’s bordering on feral, “because I really didn’t want to.”

“Then wh-?” He cuts off his sentence because your hand is back on his crotch again. You touch him with more intent now and he wonders if you can feel his dick twitching through the thick fabric. “Fuck.”

“Cause you looked a bit uncomfortable for a couple of seconds there. Figured that it was because of me.”

“It wasn’t, sweetheart. Trust me. Just never had a pretty girl seconds away from making me come in my pants like a schoolboy in a public place before.”

“Hmmm. I can think of something a lot better than that.” His eyes widen when you drop down onto your knees and start undoing his belt. “All you need to do is stay quiet.” A strangled kind of noise comes out of his mouth and it makes you grin even wider. “Think you can do that?”

“I’ll fucking try,” he squeaks out when you pull his pants down roughly to expose his underwear and his pale thighs. “I’ll really fucking try.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.” Your hand rubs over the front of his boxers and he groans low in his throat. “No louder than that, okay?” You pull the last cloth barrier down, unveiling his cock and it proudly stands at attention. “Oh god,” you say, obviously impressed, “prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah?” You lick at the glistening bead of precum on the tip and your eyes close briefly as you taste him. The noise you make is exaggerated, but fuck, who cares? “Like it that much?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer as the tip of your tongue starts following the trail of a prominent vein on the side of his shaft, chasing it all the way down to the base and then back up again. “I do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh when you finally wrap your lips around his cock and let him slip halfway into your mouth. You sit there, looking all pretty, your eyes on his, and he already knows that he won’t be able to get this image out of his head for as long as he lives.

You bob down a bit further, a mere inch at most, and then release him with a soft pop. You spit on your palm, circle your fingers around the shaft, and start working him with your hand.

Ducking your head, you sink your teeth into his pale thigh and then lick the already slightly reddening mark. You repeat this a few more times, much to Eddie’s amusement. The slight sting of your bites in combination with the movement of your hand are pushing him ever closer to the edge.

Having teased him enough, you take his dick into your mouth again and he briefly wonders if you would have still done this if the place had been a bit more crowded. Not that he thinks that the sound of screaming kids would have done anything to kill his boner. If anything, the sheer thought of there being a greater possibility of getting caught only turns him on more.

When you cup his balls and start massaging them, Eddie hisses through his teeth. Fuck, he really wasn’t gonna last long. He also had no idea how he was supposed to stay quiet. He didn’t consider himself particularly noisy (he was), but he liked talking and there was no way that he would be able to control the volume of his voice.

Not when you kept eagerly sucking him off and especially not when you were pairing it with a look that was practically spelling out how much you loved having his dick in your mouth.

You also look like you want him to crack, like you desperately want him to make noises that are way too loud, like you want to get caught giving him head in the back of the arcade.

“Shit,” he groans as softly as he can and he can feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Can’t help it,” he says, softer now. “Feels too fucking good.”

Humming around his length, you hollow out your cheeks and when your hands lightly grasp the back of his thighs so your fingertips can dance up and down his skin, he shudders.

Saliva was bubbling at the corners of your mouth and fuck, it has to be one of the hottest things that he’s ever seen. His hand instantly moves of its own volition, moving to the back of your head, and he pushes you down for a split second, stopping when your fingernails dig into his skin. He loosens his grip, giving you ample opportunity to pull away, but you don’t and your eyes are almost flashing a challenge to him, practically daring him to do it again.

So he does.

This time he holds you down a little bit longer, forcing you to take him in a little bit deeper and instantly letting go when you make a gagging noise. You stay right where you are, his dick halfway in your mouth, eyes still a little defiant, so he does it again, harder, and forcing his cock in deeper still. The discomfort is plain to see and when your fingernails drag down the back of his thighs harshly, he can feel it, too, but your grip on his legs relaxes soon enough. He scratches your scalp affectionately.

Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, threatening to overflow, and his hand releases you so he can wipe at the corners of one of your eyes, in an attempt to brush your tears away.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart,” he admits. “You just look so fucking good like that.” You blink once which finally makes the tears spill out. “Good tears though, huh?” You make an affirmative noise even if he already knows the answer. “Good ‘cause I’m seconds away from coming all down that pretty throat of yours.”

He catches a glint in your eye, as if his words spurred you on, but Eddie’s entirely unprepared for what you do next.

Your hands grab his hips and you plunge your mouth all the way down his length until your lips make contact with the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You gag around him, but you inhale deeply through your nose and manage to stay down for a bit longer.

Your throat muscles contracting around his cock is what pushes him over the edge and he comes in thick spurts down your throat. He bangs the back of his head against the wall behind him, his lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from shouting as he climaxes. His hands are balled to fists at his sides and he slams them against the wall as a form of channeling the pent-up energy that has nowhere else to go.

It takes him a short while to come back to his senses and his hands shake when he relaxes his grip. When he hazards a glance down, you’re still on your knees, his now soft cock still in your hands as you’re lazily licking up and down his shaft.

Reaching for your face, he touches the corner of your mouth and mumbles the words, “Show me.” You stick your tongue out obediently, showing him that there’s not a single drop of his cum left. “Good girl.”

Exhaling shakily, he manages to say, “up,” a couple of times, his fingers hooking under your chin and pulling in an effort to make you move faster. As soon as you’re on your feet, his lips crash into yours, his tongue invading your mouth until he can taste himself on your tongue.

His hands are everywhere. On your ass, your hips, your tits. He simply doesn’t know what to grab first, and it’s not like you seem to care either with how content your sighs are.

Changing positions, he pushes you up against the wall and hurriedly pulls his boxers and shorts back up. Your hands take over to zip him back up this time, leaving his hands free to pull the cups of your bikini top to the sides and burying his face between your tits.

“Like that,” you breathe out when his lips finally find one of your nipples. “Just like that.”

“So sensitive,” he remarks with a grin, positively delighted that he can throw your earlier words right back at you this time. “I wonder…” He trails off and brushes a hand down your stomach, light as a feather, until his fingers come to a stop at the waistband of your shorts. “May I?”

You’re nodding before he even manages to get the words out, betraying your eagerness and perhaps your impatience. So naturally that makes Eddie move slower than he would have, taking his time to undo the bow that keeps the drawstring of your shorts tied together, and even when that’s undone, he slides his digits underneath the fabric painstakingly slowly.

“Eddieeeee,” you whine, “stop teasing.”

“Who’s teasing?”

“You are,” you pout. “Not like we have all day.”

“We don’t?” You’re ready to say more, he can tell, but he knows you’re right. And he doesn’t know what you’ll do if he keeps teasing, so he slips his fingers into your panties and slides them between your folds. “Jesus, baby, you’re soaked.”

“Mhm,” you bite your lower lip and nod.

“You got this wet just from having my dick in your mouth?” You moan affirmatively. “Poor thing. Seems only right that I help you out then, right?” One of his fingers probes your entrance, not quite pressing inside yet. Not until you answer him. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper. “N-need to feel your fingers inside me.”

“Come on,” he husks against your cheek, “spread your legs a little wider.” You give him some more space to work with and he slides the digit in with ease. “Good girl.”

Your head drops forward onto his shoulder, your mouth almost level with his ear so he can hear every shaky breath and strangled moan. It makes him add another finger, plunging them deeper inside and curling them upward until he hits your sweet spot. Your walls spasm and contract around his fingers, trying to keep them there.

“Really want to get my mouth on you, sweetheart,” he husks against your temple.

“No time,” you answer. “R-raincheck?”

“You’d better,” he chuckles. He just knew that he’d be taking you up on that offer before the end of the day.

Fuck, if he had his way, he’d be on his knees in front of you right now. Your ass pushed up against the controls of the Pong machine, his head buried between your thighs, until you’re screaming so loud that it drowns out every other fucking sound in this place.

If only he’d asked you to come with him, he’d have had his wish.

His thumb finds your swollen and neglected clit with ease. His touch sends a shockwave through you which makes your whole body jolt. You grab at his shoulders, his name on your lips as your fingernails leave crescent shaped marks in the sections of his skin which aren’t covered by his shirt.

Your breath hitches and you let out a choked sob, only to have Eddie cut off any other sounds that you might make by pressing his lips against yours and swallowing all your delicious noises, effectively silencing you. Your thighs convulse around his palm, trapping his hand between them.

Reaching upward, you grab at his tied back hair, wrapping the ponytail around your fingers and pulling until your hand, along with all the other muscles in your body, go slack.

“Mmmm.” You sigh against his lips and he pulls away just far enough to see your blissed out features as you float back down to Earth. “Always knew you’d be good with your fingers.”

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?” Your face splits into a grin and he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You open your mouth to speak, but you’re distracted by Eddie sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking your juices from them. Cupping his cheeks, you lean forward and your lips brush together when a loud scream suddenly cuts through the relative silence. Startled, it makes your eyes snap open, but you visibly relax when it dawns on you that the noise isn’t anywhere near where the two of you are.

“I wanna play that one,” an underage voice shouts and it’s answered by a decidedly more bored adult voice. “Come on!” The child sounds impatient and is probably dragging the adult behind him in the direction of the game of his choice.

“Shame that,” you say as you adjust your top, covering your chest up once more. You move away from him and he hates the fact that there’s space between you now. “I totally would have let you fuck me as I played the pinball machines.”

“I have a van,” he replies, helpful and hopeful at the same time.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You stick a hand in your pocket and he thinks he can hear you jingle some coins. “Still got some quarters left so you’re shit out of luck.”

“You’re just going to play a couple more games after that?“

“Uh, yeah? I never leave until I’m all out of quarters. Sorry.” Eddie’s expression falls, but his smile returns when you press your lips against his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Can’t you wait a little bit longer like a good boy? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You give his lips a quick peck and wink. “If you think I’m going to end this day without having your dick inside me then you’re an idiot.”

Someone clears their throat loudly behind you and when you turn, you see what you can only assume is the owner of the bored adult voice earlier.

“There are kids in here, you know,” the man huffs.

“I don’t see any,” you say as you flip him off. “Or are you talking about yourself?” You grab Eddie’s hand and pull him along with you. “Come on, babe. Let’s leave these games for the kids, huh? We both got what we wanted. For now.”

The implication of what you’d done there hangs in the air as Eddie lets you lead him past the man and he barks out a laugh when he sees the furious, and dare he say frustrated, expression on his face.

Fully expecting to leave, he can’t hide his disappointment when you come to a standstill in front of a machine, Q*bert, and take a coin out of your pocket, obviously intending to still stick to your rule of not leaving until you had no coins left.

“You’re still going to- Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head as you put a quarter in the slot and start playing. “I’ll just get comfortable here then, shall I?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, “just stand there and look pretty. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Okay, I can do that.” He folds his arms and leans against the cabinet next to yours, very much mirroring the stance that he had taken earlier. “But seriously, just one game and then I’m dragging you out of here.”

“Fiiiiine. One game,” you say with a loud groan that didn’t sound anywhere near convincing enough. “But you’d better settle in, pretty boy, because I can make these games last a lifetime if I have to.”

“Did you just call me out over not being good at playing video games? Seriously?” Amusement was dripping off his voice, because he honestly didn’t care that he was no good at any of the games here. But he could have sworn that you had just issued him a challenge and he had every intention of winning that. “Honey, I can last real long when I’m doing other things.”

“Sure.” If you were trying to come across as unimpressed, it wasn’t that successful. You looked more curious than anything else. You shrugged, a bit noncommittally, and threw in a, “They all say that.”

“I actually do though.” Eddie took a step closer and he could see your fingers tightening around the joystick, fully prepared to try your damndest not to let him distract you. One more step and he’s so close now that his lips are a couple of inches away from your ear. He clears his throat and chuckles when you jump ever so slightly. “Baby, I’m genuinely not boasting when I say that I could be down there for hours and I don’t think that I need to elaborate on that now, do I?”

You release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, close your eyes for a fraction of a second, and then the telltale “game over” tune starts playing.

“Fuck.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, did you just lose? I was really looking forward to seeing you play as well, but… a deal’s a deal.” Before you could protest (which you wouldn’t dream of doing), Eddie grabs your hand and makes good on his promise of dragging you out of the arcade. “I just really want to show you what I can do now. Promise you won’t be disappointed…”

And here's the picture that partially inspired this one...

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #mar writes

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