#not that his normal campaign can't be surprising but this is one where he doesn't know where they're even going next

[chickensoupleg]

It'd be fun if, just as a silly side job, Eddie and the older kids all just play a spinoff version of DND. Essentially it's just DND except there is NO plan involved. Zero. Everyone is allowed to craft the story's progression to whatever they want, within reason.

Pulling everyone off script is totally allowed though, as long as it's interesting. It's a break from having to have a storyline to be following specifically. If they want to fight a dragon, they can totally fight a dragon, but it's not a preplanned Big Bad, just a dragon that someone put into the story so now everyone has to go fight a dragon. There's no single DM. Everyone is in control. Everyone is the judge, jury, and executioner. They take turns guiding the story.

Also there's no math. Dice rolling, yes, but it's just purely a game of chance. The stats are less solid and more like... You have to simply understand your characters capabilities like it was just another person, un-amountable to numbers.

Like, for example, Robin plays a Bard character, and she's about to reveal something special about her Trumpet. But she makes.... Oh I don't know, Nancy roll a die. Any by choice of Robin. A certain number or certain range gives what her Trumpet has. Maybe it has ice powers. Maybe it is actually sentient and Robin's character did not know. Maybe it is just a random trumpet and it's actually contained years worth of spit and now everyone has to listen to her describe her emptying the spit valve.

By all accounts it still satisfies the general ideal of DND, it's just less pinned between a DM who knows the lore and the players who get to explore and knowing what math is. It's just general fun, go ham it's not like the world is watching. Nobody knows what plot could possibly sprout up next, what romances or deaths or anything will progress. There's a story to be found, but it's crafted by the hands of many.

(Plus, everyone can play several characters at a time. If Steve wants to play 3 separate guys who are named after him there is... nobody stopping him. It's not like they're all in play at all times, just when the story allows him to reintroduce Stevon, or Steve Jr., or Stebby the Evil Vacuum Cleaner Robot.)

[strawberryspence]

(God I am such in a shit mood. So here I wrote this.)

It's 1986. Steve falls in love with Eddie first. It's crazy. It's so crazy. He falls in love between the world ending for the fourth time and saving it for real this time. He falls in love between rushing into a hospital Eddie's bleeding body and staying by his bedside.

In the aftermath, they become friends. Real actual friends with a little more trauma than normal friendships but they support each other, help each other grow. They smoke weed, go to the quarry, go bowling. They have hundreds of D&D nights. They co-parents the kids and they drag Eddie to his graduation. They throw parties and pool parties. Go to Indiana to go barhopping and record thrifting. In-between all these moments Steve falls in love. He can't pin point when exactly, but maybe he's been in love with Eddie Munson all along.

Steve keeps it in, because their friendship was so much more important. He's the closest thing Steve will have as a bestfriend (Robin's not counted, because Robin's not just his bestfriend). The pining, the yearning, the longing, it's okay. It's okay as long as he has Eddie beside him and it's so much better than not having him.

It's 1991. It's 1991 when Steve finally cannot take it. He wants so much more with Eddie. By now, they've moved to Chicago, they're both struggling adults but at least they're together and what he feels for Eddie is killing him inside. He knows Eddie doesn't feel the same. He knows. But Steve still wants to tell him so he can hear it from Eddie's lips, that he doesn't feel the same, so Steve can just fucking move on.

Steve tells him. Steve tells him on a rainy evening. Eddie looks shocked, like he's never even thought about it and it truly hurts more than anything. Steve would rather get eaten by demobats again than this. Steve tells him that it's okay if he doesn't feel the same way. He just wants Eddie to reject him so he can finally, finally move on. Eddie looks at him, and tells him, "I will always love you, Stevie. But I don't think I've ever loved you in that way." They move out of their shared apartment, a mutual decision on both their sides.

They both stay in Chicago. They stay best friends who meets up every Friday night for a drink. They have lunches together. They talk about the kids and share tidbits of secrets that was supposed to be secrets. They're best friends and it's everything Steve Harrington has wanted as he tries to finally move on.

It's 1996. The whole Party is in town for whatever reason. They don't really need a reason to see each other. They're in Robin and Nancy's shared home. Eddie's DM-ing just like the old times.

Eddie's working at a small music studio as a Producer. It's nothing big yet, but he's finally in that stage in his life that he's happy and he's done something real in his life. Steve's getting his Phd in Child Psychology and it takes everything in Eddie to not tease and call him Doctor every fucking waking minute.

They're having a snack break in between the campaign. Eddie's sitting and eating on the couch when Robin plops down beside him, throwing her legs on his lap. They're still close, they see each other almost every other week. They laugh as they watch Steve and Dustin wrangle each other for a drink or a snack, no ones really sure.

"Hey, Eds?" Eddie hums, looking over at Robin.

"I am glad you and Steve stayed friends." The confession surprises him. They never talked about it after that night, some part of Eddie knows that Robin knows but they've never talked about it too.

"Of course, we stayed friends. Why wouldn't we?" Eddie answers, his voice unsure of why Robin is even bringing this up right now. It's been 5 years since that rainy night.

"I don't know. You know that love where you feel like you'll explode if you don't tell them? Like the one that makes you feel like your a ticking time bomb?" Eddie shakes his head as Robin continues, "That's what Steve had for you. I guess that love was also enough to just love you as a friend. I am glad you're both happy." Robin kisses his cheek before leaving.

Eddie stares at Steve, really looks at him, as he laughs and smiles with the kids as they catch up with their lives and Eddie watches as if in command, Steve turning to him like a boat finding his lighthouse. Steve smiles at him and it's a different one, his eyes crinkle into crescent moons and Eddie swears his eyes shine in the dark room and a bomb explodes in his heart.

Eddie tries to remember every time he felt this way around Steve. The day he wakes up from the hospital, the day he graduates high school, the day they drop of Dustin to college, the day they move in to their apartment, the day Steve told him that he loved him, every goddamn day in between.

And god, Eddie's the biggest fucking idiot. Eddie's been a ticking time bomb in the last ten years and he always thought it was just nothing. It was normal to love someone this much because, you know, he saved his life and Steve's his bestfriend. He didn't even realize he loves Steve, but that means nothing now, he's already five years too late. He's seen Steve going on dates, trying to move on from him and he even supported him.

It's 2000. Britney Spears is everywhere and Eddie Munson is still in love with Steve Harrington. He stops dating, gives up on it all together. He's the one pining, yearning and longing now and he hates it only because this is what Steve felt for so long and Eddie can't believe he even didn't notice.

Eddie's content in it. He missed his chance, he missed it by five years when Steve held out his heart to him in his palm. Eddie's happy in every aspect in his life. Eddie is working as a Producer in a big company now, if you see the latest big hit you can usually see his name in the writers and producers. He just bought Wayne his first apartment, he has a cat named Sabbath. Max and Lucas just got married. Robin and Nancy are adopting kids. Dustin is ring shopping. Will and Mike finally got their shit together. Steve is in the peak of his career, he's writing a book about child abandonment issues and teaching classes and giving seminars in his free time while dating the most gorgeous girl Eddie's ever seen. Eddie swears that if he isn't gay, she would be his type, not only that but she's actually kind and good to Steve. She works as a social worker and is an actual angel on earth and no matter what Eddie does, he doesn't have it in him to hate her. They're all sure they're headed to marriage. The kids all love her, and has Robin's stamp of approval. He is happy. Everyone is happy.

There's a big gaping hole in his heart that only Steve Harrington can fill and he doesn't know what to do when he stays up at night, in a big cold bed, alone, filled with regrets or when they're at parties and Steve's laughing with her and Eddie thinks that could've been him.

But it's okay, Eddie will swallow his feelings because the love of his life is happy. It's okay as long as he has Steve beside him because being his bestfriend, even if that means he'll have to stand behind him at his future wedding, is better than not having Steve in his life.

-> part two

[funnylittlelad]

Trailer Park Blues - Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader

Thank you for 100 followers! :)

Read on AO3

summary: You don't think much when you start letting Hellfire use your trailer for their meetings. Dustin asked and you caved, as per usual. What you weren't expecting was the rollercoaster ride that becomes your relationship with your little brother's best friend, Eddie Munson.

wordcount: 15.8k

tags/notes: SMUT (MDNI), gn!reader (nonbinary coded if you squint), reader is Dustin's older sibling, name-calling, degradation, hate fucking i'm ngl it's hate fucking, unprotected sex, power play, mentions of bad past relationships, queer eddie munson, talks about dead parents being dead

You might kill Dustin. The windows of your trailer are illuminated. He told you they’d all be gone by the time you got home from work. As you get closer to the door and hear the excited shouts you know that they’re all still here. You’re tired, you smell, and the last thing you want to do is look at a bunch of high schoolers playing some table top bullshit. 

“Dustin,” you shout as you swing the front door open.

 Everyone at the dining table jumps and snaps to look at you. When you enter your trailer you’re immediately met with a view of the living room to your right and the small kitchen to your left. Your table is in the middle, creating a makeshift dining area turned D&D area. 

The normal crew is there, Mike, Lucas, and Will. There are some new, and semi-new faces. The semi-new face is one you’ve seen, but never spoken to. Eddie Munson, four trailers down, and originally part of your graduating class. 

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of us!” Dustin exclaims, holding his heaving chest.

“You’re not supposed to be here for me to scare the shit out of,” you remind him, the annoyance evident. 

“I know, I’m sorry. We’re almost done, I promise. Can we please just finish?” he pleads with big eyes and a quivering lip. 

This fucking kid knows he has everyone in his life around his damn finger. You’d like to smack him.

“Fine, but you’re explaining to mom why you're not home yet,” you point at him as you speak. 

His face breaks into a smile. 

“You’re the best!”

“Call, now,” you order.

 When Dustin goes to the phone on the wall next to your fridge, you exit to the short hall. The company isn't going to stop you from showering. Eddie is frozen. His eyes follow you as you leave the room, mouth parted slightly. You barged in a little angry and it knocked him through a loop. His poor little bisexual heart felt ready to explode. You must get more shit than he does looking like that. Doesn't matter that you’re stunning, being the picture of androgyny in Hawkins can't be easy. He wants so badly to examine that picture up close and in detail. Dustin was right about one thing. Jesus Christ.

When the kid told Eddie they could use his sibling’s trailer Eddie was surprised to find he lived so close to a Henderson without realizing. Now, he really can't believe it. 

“Okay, let’s finish before I get my ass kicked,” Dustin says as he comes back to the table. 

Eddie snaps out of the trance he fell into.

“Uh-we can call it here,” Eddie says, sounding far away.

 The rest of the table balks at him.

“You’re calling the campaign early?” Dustin questions.

“When I asked if we could cut last week's campaign short you said you would strangle me with your bare hands,” Mike adds in disbelief. 

“We’re in the middle of a fight,” Will protests. 

The rest of the table starts voicing their own arguments creating a cacophony of disgruntled nerds. 

“Okay, okay,” Eddie gets loud to quiet down the table, “Dustin’s next in initiative.” 

The boys cheer triumphantly causing Eddie to smile. If his eyes keep darting to where you disappeared down the hall… Well, that’s his business. Your trailer is close to his in layout, but it’s much more well-kempt and put together. Makes sense since you live here alone and two grown men live in Eddie’s. 

When you reappear, toweling off your hair, they’re wrapping up. Your sweatpants that sit just below your belly button and short cropped shirt don't go unnoticed by Eddie. His eyes glide over your midriff and the soft dark hair that it's home to. It seems no matter what you’re in you remain more androgynous than Boy George.

 A trait that absolutely entices the queer disaster that is Eddie Munson. Dustin only ever uses sibling to talk about you. He doesn't use any language that would give any more away than your appearance does. It doesn't matter anyways, Eddie is infatuated regardless. Maybe even partially because of. 

The boys all throw you a goodbye as they exit until only Dustin and Eddie are left. Dustin is cleaning up any dishes or garbage left behind while Eddie packs up all the D&D materials. You didn't realize how much goes into this table top bullshit. Eddie has books, binders, and notebooks worth of information and ideas. There's stats and prices of various items on the screen he puts up so no one can peek at his notes. Then there's the velvet drawstring bag of different shaped dice. Shapes you’ve never even seen dice come in before. 

“How long were you guys playing for?” you ask the two of them from where you lean against the counter. 

You don't know what time they got started, just that they were supposed to be gone when you got home.

“Six hours,” Dustin says sheepishly.

“Six hours?” 

“It took longer than expected,” he shrugs with an apologetic smile.

You chuckle and shake your head. Your eyes flicker over to Eddie, catching him staring at you with wide dark eyes. Once your gaze meets his he looks down and hurries to finish packing up. You choose to disregard it. Eddie Munson can eat dirt if he thinks he's in any position to judge you. If only you knew he wasn't judging you, he was admiring you.

“It’s getting late. Do you want to just spend the night? I don't like the idea of you biking home when it's this dark out,” you say to Dustin softly. 

You don't have a car of your own to drive him. Since everything that happened with Will… Yeah, he’s definitely not biking home alone at night. 

“I can bring him,” Eddie offers as he zips up his bag.

“You can bring him?” You question thinking about the death trap of a van you’ve seen him drive. 

Somehow, that feels even worse. 

“Yeah, I can bring him,” he repeats and finally meets your eyes again.

 He sees the distrust, the anxiety. It hits him in the gut. 

“That’s okay, he can just spend the night,” you refuse him politely. 

“How d’you think he got here in the first place?” Eddie asks with raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

 Your nostrils flare a little at the smugness.

“Then I should consider myself lucky he’s still in one piece,” you shoot back. 

Eddie dramatically grabs his stomach and doubles over with a grunt as if he has just been punched.

“You hurt me, Henderson,” he huffs as he looks up at you from his bent state. 

A smile grows on his face when he sees you fighting off your own. 

“Hello, I’m right here, y’know,” Dustin looks between the two of you exasperatedly, “I can go with Eddie.”

“Dust-”

“I can go with Eddie,” he cuts you off to repeat himself. 

You exhale sharply through your nose. The two of you glare at each other for a moment. You still lean against the counter while Dustin stands beside the table. Eddie watches from where he stands on the opposite side of the table. Then your smoldering gaze turns to Eddie, stopping his breathing.

“Do the speed limit,” your voice is even, but so stern that all Eddie can do is nod. 

He swallows the lump that forms in his throat as a result.

“Cross my heart,” he uses his pointer finger to draw an X over his heart. 

Dustin hugs you goodbye. You make him promise to call tomorrow. Eddie gives you one last wide eyed look, a small smile plays on his lips. Then you’re finally alone. You love having Dustin over, but you’re also glad to have peace and quiet. 

You moved out a few short months after graduation. Your overbearing mother proved too much to continue living with. Dustin was pissed at first. He came around when he realized it meant having a space to escape to and be himself. Something you're more than happy to provide for him. 

He was thrilled to learn that Eddie lives only four trailers away from you. When Dustin asked if Hellfire could meet at your place to continue a campaign they had started you agreed for this one time. Even when you said it, you had a feeling Dustin will end up begging for 

more and you’ll end up caving. The kid really does have everyone wrapped around his finger. Eddie included it seems.

“So, are they always so…,” Eddie struggles to finish his question as he drives through Hawkins. 

Hot, breathtaking, pulse pounding, awestriking. He can't really say any of that to Dustin. 

“Protective?” Dustin offers.

“Protective works,” Eddie nods. 

Not exactly what he was thinking, but that applies too.

“Pretty much.” 

“How long have they lived in Forest Hills?” He tries to keep his tone casual, but ends up sounding just a little too interested. 

He can feel Dustin’s eyes burning into the side of his head. 

“Year and a half,” Dustin answers.

“So they're… nineteen?”

“Twenty.” 

Eddie glances over at Dustin. He looks one part irritated and two parts suspicious. Eddie adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. 

“Wait, we were in the same grade?” Eddie asks, surprised.

“You were supposed to be,” Dustin ribs. 

“You wanna walk from here, Henderson?”

“You wanna get murdered?” 

Eddie shoots him a glare knowing he’s right. His threat is hollow with you around. If you found out he let Dustin walk halfway home he’s sure he wouldn't see morning. 

“Why are you asking?” Dustin inquired after a moment of silence. Eddie shrugs.

“Just curious.”

“Uh-huh,” Dustin sounds entirely unconvinced.

“Whatever,” Eddie mutters to himself. He pushes you out of his mind and focuses on driving. 

He can feel Dustin’s occasional glances. The younger Henderson has clocked his strange demeanor, he knows it. It’s not hard. He isn't as goofy or teasing. He’s more lost in thought than he'd like. He just doesn't know how he's never noticed you before. How has he never noticed the one person in Hawkins that seems to tick every single fucking box he could possibly have? 

***

The next time Eddie sees you it’s raining. The weather is only noteable because he sees you walking home with no umbrella. He catches you as you make it under the awning of the movie theater. It gives you temporary shelter from the pounding of the rain. Eddie pulls over to the curb in front of you. He had been going to the store to grab some munchies, but that’s something he can do later. 

You eye his van curiously. He doesn’t bother with his hazards. Cars go around him without issue. He leans over and cranks the window down.

“You need a ride?” he calls out.

“I’m good, thanks,” you call back.

“Seriously? You’ll catch your death walking all the way to Forest Hills in this. Just get in.”

You sigh, but do as he says. It's not like you want to walk in the rain. Keeping a distance from Eddie just felt like the right thing to do. He gives you a feeling in your gut you can't quite place. He always has. Is it possible to admire someone and not like them?

“Thanks,” you say as you close the door. 

You’re shivering as you drip on his seat.

“Yeah, no problem,” Eddie says as he blasts the heat. 

His typically loud music is soft as he drives. Something you appreciate. Work was a headache. Having to walk home in the rain was a pain in the ass. A pain in the ass Eddie has luckily saved you from.

“Where d’you work, anyways?” he asks after a few minutes.

“I’m a manager over at the general store.”

“Shit, really? I steal-I mean I-uh go there all the time,” Eddie doesn’t course correct quite fast enough. 

To his surprise, you laugh. It’s a nice sound. Calming like the rain is when you aren't stranded in it.

“I’ll remember that next time I see you in there.”

There’s a comfortable silence after that. Eddie is actually a better driver than you assumed. It makes you feel a little better about Dustin driving around with him. You don't even notice you've stopped shivering. The van is warming you up, but you’re still soaked. 

“Sorry about your seats, by the way,” you say.

“Eh, it’s just some water. These seats have seen worse,” he shrugs.

You grimace in disgust.

“Like what?” 

Eddie lets out a hearty laugh.

“Probably better you don’t know.”

“Jesus, you’re nasty, Munson,” your laughter betrays you. 

“Oh, you have no idea, Henderson.”

Another round of comfortable silence as Forest Hills comes into view. You expect Eddie to park at his trailer. You don't mind walking the short distance to your own. Instead he pulls right up to your door. 

“Seriously thank you, Eddie,” you give him a smile.

“Don’t worry about it. If- y'know, if you need a ride again you can give me a call.”

“Sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to give me your phone number,” you tease.

Eddie chuckles.

“Two birds, one stone,” he smiles.

“You’ll need to try harder than that, Munson. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” You flash him a smile and then you’re gone.

Only the wet imprint of your ass lets him know you were ever really there in the first place.

***

“Please,” Dustin pleads over the phone. You sigh.

“Dustin, it’s my day off. I don't want to sit here and listen to you guys for six hours,” you tell him.

“We’ll only be an hour, two tops.”

“Dustin-”

“I can stay over after and we can hang out. We’ll watch E.T.,” he sweetens the pot. 

He knows that's your favorite movie and he knows you’re a sucker for quality time with him. Little asshole.

“Fine, but you only get two hours before I kick everyone out.”

“Three?”

“Two and a half.”

“Thank you, you're the best, bye!” he hangs up before you have a chance to change your mind. You chuckle and shake your head.

Two and a half hours stuck in your room isn't too bad. Besides, you’re not really stuck. You just don't want to get in the way, or listen on in utter confusion. You know a little about D&D from Dustin talking about it, but not enough to follow. Sure you’ll pop out to grab a drink, maybe something to eat, but overall you intend to stay removed. 

Part of you wants to stay away from Eddie. You know he’ll just start flirting and you'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to resist giving it right back to him. It shouldn't surprise you when Eddie is the first to show an hour later, but it does. He gives a quick rhythmic knock on your door. 

“I'm surprised you made it so early. I know the commute is killer,” you quip when you see him standing outside the screen door. 

With a grin, Eddie braces his lower back beneath his old bookbag and leans into his hands a bit to dramatize discomfort.

“Yeah, my back is killing me from the long drive over,” he makes a face as he jokes to drive it home. 

You chuckle and push the screen door open to let him in.

“Dustin isn't here yet,” you tell him as he enters.

 He pauses just inside the doorway leaving him so close to you his body heat reaches the skin of your arms.

“I can come back,” he says and begins to turn.

“No, it's alright. He should be here soon. I’m assuming you need to get set up or something?” you tilt your head toward the cleared off dining table. He nods and you hold your arm out to tell him he’s welcome to continue inside. 

You watch him make his way to the table. Something about the way he’s joking back with you makes you wonder if you had things wrong. Maybe he wasn't flirting in the van the other day. Maybe it was just friendly banter. 

“Thanks for letting us play here. We usually use the drama room, but they’ve needed it more with that stupid musical coming up,” Eddie says as he opens his bag and begins to pull things out.

“Let me guess, Grease?” you shut the door and find your place on the couch.

 Eddie glances at you with an amused smirk.

“Sure is.”

“Figures. Thank God Dustin isn't a theater kid. I don't think I could sit through that every year,” you chuckle.

 Eddie’s smile is curious, maybe even a bit nervous. You're watching him and it makes his movements just a little less sure. 

“Instead you get a bunch'a freaks playing D&D at your table.”

“You calling my brother a freak, Munson?” There’s an edge to your words. 

Eddie’s eyes get wide.

“Uh- no, I-”

“I’m just kidding, calm down,” you laugh, “it’s okay, he is a freak. Besides, I don't think you’d ever be mean to Dustin.”

“Why’s that?”

“He worships the ground you walk on. If you were ever mean to him your uncle would need to pull dental records to identify you,” you say it light heartedly with a smile.

 Your voice and expression don't match the vicious threat. Eddie’s heart thumps hard as he spreads out the battle map.

“You’re a little scary, y’know that?”

“How else am I supposed to keep you in line?” 

Heat crawls up Eddie’s neck. His throat dries and he clumsily knocks into his DM screen. It clatters flat onto the table. You watch on in amusement as he fumbles with it. He’s flustered. A fact that goes straight to your ego. Eddie is Dustin’s friend so you had no plans to actually be mean or rude to him. Admittedly, your brother is pretty good at picking people. Even if others don't see what he does in those people. 

Is flustering Eddie by accident mean or rude? Is continuing to do it because you like that you can? 

“How is it I’ve never seen you around before?” Eddie asks once the DM screen is back up the way he wants it. 

“You have, you just never noticed,” you shrug.

“Trust me, I would have noticed you,” he glances at you as he says it. 

When he sees your attention is already on him, he quickly moves on to digging out the miniatures he brought. 

“Trust me, you wouldn't have. I haven't always been this comfortable dressing and existing how I want. Not everyone can be Eddie Munson,” you give him a small smile.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he pauses setting up to look at you. 

He half expects insults to start being hurled at him.

“You’ve always been yourself. Even when it would be easier to be someone else. I’ve always admired that about you. It took me a long time to be that brave,” you answer genuinely. 

His face reddens and his eyes nearly strike you down where you sit. They’re big, as always, and the distinct brown of them swims in an emotion you can't place. Eddie’s heart is in his throat. He knows he’s attracted to you physically, but you might have just sunk a hook in him emotionally. Whether you meant to or not, you nearly destroyed him with your words. He can't remember the last time someone has said such nice things to his face. 

“Always, huh? You been watching me, Henderson?” he bounces back, diffusing his own feelings with the joke. 

You shrug with an innocent smile.

“You make it hard not to.”

Eddie’s face somehow gets even hotter. He might need to peel off his jacket if this keeps up. As he struggles to come up with a response to that, Dustin bursts in. The large smile on his face drops when he sees the flustered state of Eddie. His eyes travel back and forth between the two of you.

“What’s happening?” he asks

“Just getting to know your friend,” you shrug casually. 

Traces of that smile can still be found on your face. That's when Eddie knows you’re doing it on purpose. You saw how flustered you made him and decided to keep going. He’s not sure if he hates you or just fell in love with you. 

“Right,” Dustin says, completely unconvinced. 

“Okay, well, I’ll make myself scarce before the rest of the nerds get here. Remember, two and a half hours, Dustin,” you point at him as you rise from the couch. 

“I know, I know.”

Eddie watches you disappear down the hall. His eyes stay on the beginning of the hallway until he hears your bedroom door click shut. Then he finally looks at the boy in front of him. Dustin has narrowed eyes on Eddie.

“What?” Eddie asks defensively and continues emptying his bag. 

“You tell me,” Dustin crosses his arms.

“I don't know what you mean,” Eddie lies as he spreads out his reference materials and notes behind the screen.

“Bullshit.”

“We were just talking.”

Before Dustin can pry further the rest of the boys start piling in. Mike, Lucas, and Will are confident just walking in like they live there. Jeff and Gareth follow with more hesitation. Eddie happily dives in once everyone is settled at the table. Happy to continue the campaign and happy to avoid talking about you further with Dustin. He’s not sure how the younger Henderson will take his burgeoning crush. 

Around thirty minutes into their gameplay you appear for a drink. You notice immediately that Eddie becomes distracted when you pop into the kitchen. Eddie’s eyes track you the entire way as the others discuss their next move. You catch his gaze when you turn around from the fridge. Before he can try to act like he wasn't staring, you smirk. Then you’re taking a nice long drink from your can of coke. Eddie swallows, watching you, Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to regain the ability to speak. 

“Eddie,” Dustin waves his hand in front of Eddie’s eyes.

 Eddie blinks back into the game, feeling like he traveled a million light years and back. Dustin glances over his shoulder to where Eddie had been zoned off staring. You give your brother a small wave when he sees you. His eyebrows furrowed as he looks back to Eddie who is trying desperately to get back on track. Eddie hazards one more quick look at you. You throw him a wink as you make your exit. On their way back to the table in front of him, his eyes meet Dustin’s.

“What the hell was that?” Dustin questions.

“That was Mike getting knocked prone,” Eddie answers and reaches over his screen to knock Mike’s miniature on its side. 

“You’re deflecting,” Mike says smugly, happy to have some retribution for the hit Eddie’s NPC made on his character. 

“Uh, no, I’m DM-ing,” he makes a sweeping gesture to the layout in front of him.

“Holy shit, Eddie has a crush,” Lucas realizes out loud. 

Dustin groans.

“Are we gonna have to stop playing here?” Will asks genuinely.

 Will is the only one Eddie can consider innocent here. The rest of them earn a glare. 

“I don't know, Eddie, will we?” Dustin sasses with a pointed look at Eddie.

“No, we won't. We only have a couple hours here, can we get back to the fucking game?” Eddie snaps them back into focus. 

An hour goes by and you’re back. This time Eddie is able to drag his gaze away from where you’re digging around in a cabinet. You have to reach up in a way that exposes the skin of your stomach. A silky stripe of skin and some tufts of dark hair between your too small shirt and sweatpants. 

Instead of allowing himself to get distracted by you again, he starts putting on more of a show. His movements become more dramatic, he throws himself more fully into the voices he’s doing, and overall amping up the theatrics. He figures if you admire him always being himself, he'll dial himself up to ten. 

You find yourself leaning against the counter with a bag of chips in your hand watching. No one else seems to have noticed your arrival. They’re too taken in by the narrative Eddie is weaving. You can't blame them. Eddie puts his full body into it. After a couple minutes he lets the group deliberate their next move. His eyes flicker over to you again, a smirk on his face. The eye contact jolts you from whatever weird fog you’d fallen into watching him. As you make your leave you see the quick wink Eddie tosses your way. 

Your heart is loud in your ears when you shut your door. Oh, it’s on, Munson, you think to yourself. If there's one thing you are, it's competitive. It’s clear you fluster Eddie, which means there’s some type of attraction there. Truthfully, you’re attracted to him too. You always have been. His authenticity and ability to stay true to himself have always drawn you in. Now that you can tell he’s into this too, you’re ready to have fun with it. The two of you have officially entered a little game and you refuse to lose.

 An old pair of shorts is your next move. They’re Hawkins High green with white trim and stripes up the side of each leg. They’re long enough to cover everything, but short enough to draw attention. You give it another fifteen minutes before re-emerging. When you do so you fan yourself with your hand to pretend your room is hot. Without looking to see if Eddie has noticed you bend at the hips to start peering in the fridge. You look innocuous enough searching for a water bottle to cool down. Then you hear a clattering, a few shouts, and fumbling.

“Shit,” Eddie hisses. 

You turn around with a water bottle pressed to your forehead. Everyone, but Eddie, is frantically looking for something on the floor. A small red pointy looking die sits in front of you on the linoleum, a black number twenty facing up. You pluck it off the floor and hold it up lazily. 

“You guys looking for this?” you ask. A couple of them hit their heads on the table on their way up. 

When they see the D20 between your fingers they swarm you. Suddenly you’re trapped against the fridge by several manic nerds. Dustin grabs the sides of your upper arms. 

“Did you see what it landed on?” He all but demands. 

You shove him off and push through them. Eddie remains seated at the table watching with huge eyes. 

“First off, whose is it?” you ask.

“Mine,” Eddie’s voice wavers just a bit on the single syllable. 

With a bright smile you walk it over to him. He looks up at you when you’re next to the table, face getting more and more red. You place the D20 down in front of him, black twenty still up. His mouth parts slightly as if to say something, but nothing comes out. You have him all lined up where you want him. Now, you just have to make the goal by brandishing some of the only D&D knowledge Dustin has imparted on you.

“Natural twenty,” you say, your smile curling into something more mischievous, “Congrats on the crit.”

Eddie continues blinking his wide dark eyes at you. The rest of the boys groan behind you. Whatever Eddie just rolled for clearly isn't good for them. They all take their seats again. 

“You couldn't have lied?” Dustin huffs comically.

“And rob your DM of his roll? Never,” you chuckle. 

You lift his hat, ruffle his hair, and walk off. Eddie gapes after you, heart absolutely pounding. He won't be able to stand the rest of the game. His jeans got a little tighter when he saw you bent over in those fucking shorts, distracting him mid roll. It only got worse when you walked over his D20, looked down at him like you know the hold you have, and congratulated him on his nat twenty.  

“I think he’s drooling,” Mike’s voice pulls Eddie back to the table.

“He’s speechless,” Gareth adds.

“I’m not speechless. I'm contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?” Lucas questions unconvinced.

“How exactly I want this nat twenty to fuck up your day.”

You don't make another appearance until their time is up. By the time you make it out there it's just Dustin and Eddie. Dustin is on his knees in the living room looking through the different VHS tapes you have in a milk crate. Eddie is packing away all his stuff neatly. 

“How’d it go?” you ask them as you plop down onto your couch. 

Dustin launches into an excited and detailed account of the game. Eddie expects you to tell him to calm down, that you don't need a play by play of every second. You don't. Instead you listen encouragingly, ask questions for clarification, and let Dustin rattle on. 

“Sounds like you did a good job with this one, Dungeon Master,” you say to Eddie with a smile. 

His heart skips. 

“Even I have my days,” he shoots you a smile in return as he zips up his bag. 

“Yeah? Maybe one of these days you’ll be able to keep your dice on the table,” you tease. 

Dustin watches the two of you and it clicks. At first he thought Eddie was just taking a morbid interest. You’ve had plenty of that. Guys in Hawkins like experimenting, toeing the line you ride between genders, and then denying anything ever happened when they come to their senses. He didn't want to think Eddie would be like that, but as protective as you are of Dustin he is of you. The way you prop your chin on your hand and lean on the arm of the couch toward Eddie finally clues Dustin in. You're into Eddie too. 

“Eddie, you should stay and watch E.T. with us,” Dustin interjects. 

Your eyes dart to him curiously. 

“I promised Wayne I'd be home by eight. Next time, alright?” Eddie swings his bag over his shoulder. 

Dustin is disappointed, but doesn't put up a fight. Eddie knew he wouldn't last through a movie with you. Not if earlier was any indication of what you’re capable of doing to him. Not with Dustin around. As disappointed as you might be, you’re also relieved. If Eddie sat next to you the movie would have been forgotten immediately. You and Dustin bid Eddie farewell and start the movie.

Dustin is knocked out on the couch by the end of it. You throw the soft blanket you keep in the living room over him. It’s too early for you to be tired. You take to cleaning up a little, grabbing what Dustin missed when cleaning up after the campaign. When you go to toss the little bits of trash in the garbage can you find it full. You roll your eyes knowing full well Dustin left it like this for you when he could have taken it out. 

The outside air nips at your exposed legs. It’s a short walk to the dumpster, but in the dark it can be creepy. Forest Hills isn't the most lit up place at night. You hurry to toss the bag into the dumpster.

“Come here often?”

The voice startles you. You whip around with a small yelp. Eddie stands before you with a garbage bag in his hand and a teasing smirk on his face. When you realize it's him you recover quickly.

“Only when I’m hoping to see you,” you tease as you step out of his way. He tosses his own bag in the dumpster and turns to face you.

“You callin’ me trash, Henderson?” He raises his eyebrows.

“I didn't say that, but if that's what you took from it…” you smile playfully. 

He shakes his head chuckling.

“You're kinda mean,” Eddie points at you as he says it. 

“Am I?” You ask, taking a step forward. 

There's a foot of space between you and Eddie. You can see his breathing stutter in his chest. 

“Yeah, but I like it,” he admits quietly, heart pounding. 

You smile and take another step forward. You’re fully in Eddie’s space now. He can't even tell if he’s still breathing. You’re still in those fucking shorts, you're openly flirting with him, and you’re so god damn close. He might just die on the spot.

“Do you?” You're torturing him now.

 He knows it. You know it.

“Now you’re just tryna get me to say nice things about you,” he teases with a smirk. 

How he’s maintaining any amount of composure is beyond him. Maybe God is real and right now Eddie is His favorite little soldier.

“Is that so hard?”

“No, not when you're wearing those.”

He nods down to your shorts. You laugh, placing a hand on the breast of his jean vest over his leather jacket. 

“I thought you’d like’em.”

“You were right.”

“I’m glad I dug them out for you then,” you smirk, toying with one of the many pins on his vest. 

“You- for me?” Eddie sputters not expecting the bold statement.

 Light teasing and flirting, sure, but not that.

“You’re really surprised?” you chuckle.

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs lamely. His composure is quickly slipping.

“Then you haven't been paying attention very well,” you chide playfully. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie breathes. 

Before you can say another word, Eddie breaks. He grabs the sides of your face and crashes his lips into yours. You grasp onto the denim of his vest as you melt into it. His lips are warm, urgent, and a little sloppy with desperation. The kiss sends a thrill through your entire body. It’s only when he pulls away that you remember where you are. Outside at night kissing Eddie Munson next to the fucking dumpster. Are you sixteen again? 

You just look into each other's eyes for a second. Eddie’s face is still just inches away from yours. His pupils are blown to shit and you're sure yours are too. You drag him forward again by the grip on his vest. This time your other hand finds a home in his coarse wavy to curly hair. He moans into your mouth as your hold on his hair tightens. You give a surprised groan when his hand grabs your ass. He rides the shorts up just enough for him to brush against the skin they once covered. 

It takes an extreme amount of effort to pull away. Somehow, you manage. Both of you are breathing heavily. After a second of just studying each other's face, you shake your head with a smile.

“I better get going before I try to jump your bones in the dumpster,” you say, but don't move. 

“Maybe you can jump my bones another time,” Eddie suggests with a smile. 

You chuckle.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Aren't you eager,” you tease.

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I guess not.”

He gives you an expectant stare. You pretend to think his offer over. 

“Okay, tomorrow. Dustin should be gone by one,” you nod. 

Eddie fights off a groan. He forgot about the Dustin of it all. Maybe this isn't a good idea. Maybe he should call the whole thing off. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says instead. 

“I look forward to it,” you smile and leave him.

 He watches you walk back to your trailer. Without you pressed against him, he’s suddenly cold. He jogs back to his own trailer still in disbelief. His thoughts are spinning. One thing is for sure, his dreams are going to be full of you tonight.

***

Eddie’s fist hovers by the door for a second. This is his last chance to back out. It’s his last chance to turn around and avoid any awkward confrontation with Dustin later. Eddie cares about that kid’s opinion of him far too much. Once he has the thought to leave, he gives a quick rhythmic knock. 

“Eddie?” Dustin questions when he opens the door, “What are you doing here?” 

Eddie struggles for something to say. Dustin is supposed to be gone. 

“Oh, Eddie left his dice. I gave him a call last night,” your voice calls from deeper in the trailer. 

The lie is easy and smooth.

“So, you gonna let me in or what?” Eddie jerks his chin up at Dustin. 

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his vest. The left one is wrapped around the condom he brought just in case you didn't have any. He’s almost afraid if he lets go it’ll fall out and Dustin will have more questions. 

Dustin pushes the screen door open to let Eddie in. When he enters he sees you standing over the kitchen sink. You shoot him an apologetic look over your shoulder. He returns it with a small understanding smile. Clearly, you hadn't planned on Dustin still being here either. You turn off the water, dry your hands on a nearby towel, and face him from the kitchen.

“I have the dice in my room,” you tilt your head toward the hallway. 

You lead Eddie to your bedroom. It’s at the end of the short hall, similar to his own. An unmade full bed is pushed into the far corner under the singular window. A dresser sits in the opposite corner with a couple framed pictures on top and what looks like a small silver urn. The wall behind your bed is adorned with an intricate forest green tapestry with the tree of life on it. 

“I’m so sorry,” you begin in a hushed voice.

“S’alright,” Eddie assures you.

“He decided to stay and I couldn't exactly tell him no,” you explain anxiously.

“It’s really alright, Henderson,” he gives you a reassuring smile. 

Your heart skips a beat. Part of you feared he’d be pissed. There have been plenty of guys in the past whose tempers were as short as their sexuality was confusing. Eddie notices the way you relax when you accept his words.

“Well, you’re welcome to hang out as long as you’d like,” you tell him.

“Maybe I should go. This probably wasn't a good idea anyway,” he says with a quick look over his shoulder. 

Dustin is still in the living room, Eddie can hear the tv. When his eyes turn back to you, your whole demeanor has changed. Your face is suddenly unreadable. Your stance is closed off. 

“Yeah, maybe you're right,” your voice is cold.

 Eddie starts internally panicking. Clearly he said the wrong thing, but he doesn't know what. 

“It’s not you,” he rushes to explain, “it’s Dustin.”

You roll your eyes.

“Don't use my brother as an excuse for whatever sexuality struggle you're having,” you whisper harshly.

Eddie’s hands find either side of his head. His fingers sink into his hair as he tries to understand how this situation turned on him. 

“I’m not having a sexuality struggle,” he argues, frustration beginning to bubble up.

“Whatever, Eddie. I’ve been through this too many times.”

“Through what? You're not actually fucking talking to me. Just talk to me,” he gestured wildly in the air, shaking his hands in a pleading motion. 

“Through assholes chatting me up, making me feel special, like maybe someone actually fucking likes me. Only to find out I was nothing but a novelty. I don't know why I thought you could be any different,” you explain bitterly with a shake of your head.

Eddie runs a hand over his face as he processes. Your words sting. They burn tiny lacerations into his skin. I don't know why I thought you could be any different. He never thought he'd be compared to the rest of Hawkins, always an outlier. You’re grouping him in with probably the worst Hawkins has to offer. Now that really fucking hurts.

“I do actually fucking like you. Why can't you get it's more complicated than that?” 

“Oh, I get it. You can't figure out what you’re feeling and you’re afraid it’ll make you gay. So, test it out with me and then move the fuck on like nothing ever happened,” you say while crossing your arms. You fold in on yourself, becoming smaller and smaller before Eddie’s eyes.

“I am gay-I mean not gay gay but-fuck,” Eddie struggles. 

The heels of his hands dig into his eyes as he tries to collect his racing thoughts.

“Just go, Eddie. We can pretend this never happened,” your voice is low, almost a rumble. 

“Will you just listen to me?” he demands frustratedly, voice raised. 

“Is everything alright?” Dustin appears in the open doorway. 

His face is full of concern and confusion. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Dust. Eddie was just leaving.”

Eddie gives you a desperate look. He pleads with those big brown eyes. When it's clear you’re done and this conversation isn't going any further he sighs.

“See you later, Henderson,” he mumbles as he pushes past Dustin. 

You’re not really sure which one of you it's directed at. Eddie isn't either.

***

You actively avoid Eddie the following week. It’s painfully obvious. He wants a chance to grab you. To talk to you and explain the misunderstanding. He's beginning to think you can sense that and that's why you’ve been so slippery as of late. The only time he really could is when you’re on your way to work, but he doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to make you late or upset you before a shift. 

Dustin opens the door the next time Eddie knocks. You’re still letting them play in your trailer, but you haven't been home the last couple sessions. He does his best not to let it bother him. It's fucking hard when Dustin keeps giving him these watchful, curious looks. Almost like he’s trying to decipher what happened just by studying Eddie’s face. These looks are peppered throughout the entire campaign, exhausting Eddie.

It feels like fate when you come home as he’s packing up. He gives you an unsure smile. You return it and go into your room. That’s something. That’s progress. At the end of the day, Eddie doesn't want you thinking so low of him. He hates knowing you think he'd use you as an experiment. He’s an asshole, but he’s not a piece of shit. 

“Dustin, if you need a ride home Steve is stopping by in a few minutes,” you call out from your bedroom.

When you walk back out you’re in a pair of dark blue shorts that fall to your mid-thigh, and a baggy white muscle shirt. You catch the expression Eddie was making before he managed to wipe it off his face. You pause between the kitchen and the front door. 

“What?” you question a little aggressively.

Eddie holds his hands up to his chest in surrender. The unwarranted attitude automatically sets him off.

“Put the gun away, jeez. I didn't know you’re friends with Harrington is all,” Eddie snaps back defensively. 

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you guys? I thought you liked each other,  but now you’re acting like you hate each other,” Dustin interrupts exasperated. 

“Shut up,” the two of you say in unison.

Your head snaps to Eddie.

“Did you just tell my brother to shut up, Munson?” you demand. 

“You did too!”

“Because he’s my brother. Who the fuck are you to talk to him that way?” 

“Will you calm down?” Dustin demands.

“Dust-”

“No, this is so stupid. What happened?”

You grit your teeth. A sharp exhale exits your flared nostrils. Your eyes flicker to Eddie for a second. His face is red with frustration, his eyebrows are set, and his mouth is a thin line. You look back to Dustin's confused face.

“Jason,” you state flatly.

“Jason?” Eddie questions, absolutely bewildered.

Dustin’s face drops. His eyes squeeze shut as he sighs. You watch him slowly turn to look at Eddie. Eddie’s stomach sinks when he sees Dustin’s broken expression.

“Eddie, you didn't,” he pleads softly. 

Eddie’s eyes fly furiously between you and Dustin. He’s trying to grasp what the fuck is happening. Why did you bring up Jason? Why is Dustin looking at him like that?

“Didn’t what? What’s going on?” he asks, absolutely lost.

“You should go,” Dustin answers solemnly. 

“Jesus Christ, you fucking Hendersons don't know how to have a conversation to save your lives,” Eddie grumbles as he continues packing up his stuff.

“What’s that, Munson?” You demand, stepping forward.

“C’mon, don’t-” Dustin starts.

“Dustin, go wait outside,” you order without looking at him.

Your glare remains firmly on Eddie. Eddie who is glaring firmly back, only the battle map left on the table. 

“I’m not gonna wa-”

“Outside, now.”

Dustin huffs, but ultimately listens. Once the door is slammed shut behind him you march up to Eddie. Eddie backs up, but you don't stop. Soon his back hits the wall and there’s nowhere else to go. You stop directly in front of him and start aggressively poking his chest.

“Let’s get something fucking straight, Munson. If you’re going to be using my home for your stupid fucking childish fantasy game you're not going to talk about Dustin or me that way, got it?” you spat.

“Oh, now it's a stupid fucking childish fantasy game. That’s rich. You didn’t seem to think that when you were drooling over me DMing.” Eddie counters, still holding up his facade of confidence despite being cornered. 

“Please, don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff.

“I’m not. It’s pretty fucking clear you’re into me, sweetheart.”

“Yeah? And what are you? Completely indifferent? You get a hard on just from seeing me in shorts. You're pathetic.”

Eddie wants to be hurt. He wants to be hurt so fucking bad. His body has other plans in response to your words, though. Fire spreads to every limb. He has half a mind to bend you over the table right now and show you just how pathetic he is. He’s ready to make you an incoherent mewling mess so he can lean down and whisper who’s pathetic now? into your ear. 

“And you’re a fucking tease,” he snaps instead. 

“Holy shit,” you laugh sarcastically, “You’re getting turned on right now, aren't you?”

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn't you?”

“Me? Munson, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

The front door slams open. You whip around and Eddie’s eyes snap up to the door. Steve is standing there with his hands on his hips, looking completely unimpressed. 

“Alright, kids, what seems to be the problem here?” Steve asks.

He steps into the trailer with Dustin at his heels. Both you and Eddie are red, breathing heavily, and still standing within an inch of each other. 

“Steve, can you just bring Dustin home, please?” you try to sound less irritated, but it doesn't work very well.

“Okay, well, one, you said I could borrow your blue jacket. And two, I’m not going anywhere until you two explain what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing, I’m just dealing with Jason Junior over here,” you answer, crossing your arms. 

Steve’s head lolls back briefly in exasperation.

“God, Eddie, not you too,” he groans. 

“Not me too, what? Can you guys stop being so fucking cryptic and tell me what you mean?” Eddie demands.

He’s absolutely over being compared to Jason out of everyone. You huff and walk away. The three of them watch you wander into your room and then back out. You throw the blue bomber jacket at Steve. He catches it with a frown.

“Everyone just get the fuck out of my house,” you grumble and stomp back to your room.

The door slams with such force Eddie is surprised he doesn't hear the wood splinter. All three boys flinch at the sound. Eddie scoffs to himself and starts to barge out. Steve stands in front of the door, blocking Eddie’s way.

“Move, Harrington,” Eddie orders.

“Not until you tell me what all that was about, Munson.”

“Can we do this outside?” Dustin interjects.

The three of them leave the trailer. You’re left alone in your room with nothing, but endless silence. Endless silence and that heavy feeling you get in your stomach whenever you just get done ruining everything. 

“Okay, can someone please tell me what the fuck all this Jason bullshit is about?” Eddie turns on Dustin and Steve once they’re a good few feet from the trailer.

Steve and Dustin exchange a look that Eddie doesn't like. They’re both privy to something about you that Eddie isn't. It’s not surprising, but it's surely irritating. Especially when everyone is talking about it like he knows too. 

“You remember that black eye Jason had inexplicably about four months ago?” Steve sighs.

“Yeah, it was a helluva shiner.”

“I gave him that.”

Eddie spends a moment just blinking. How is this relevant?

“Okay…” Eddie trails off, shaking his head to tell Steve to continue. 

“I gave him that because he’s a little prick that really fucked’em over,” Steve continued with a gesture over his shoulder at your trailer. 

“Wait… Jason? They were with Jason?” Eddie questions in disbelief. 

“Yeah, behind locked doors. Until Jason was done playing queer and got with Chrissy without saying anything,” Dustin says bitterly.

Hearing queer from Dustin’s mouth kinda stung Eddie, he won't lie. He knows Dustin meant it in a sexuality way, not derogatory. Something he likely picked up from you. Still, there’s something about someone decidedly straight saying it. 

“When they confronted him about it he… He said some not very nice things. It really fucked with them. Like really fucked with them. I mean he wasn't the first one to do something like that, but he was the worst one,” Steve explained, sounding irritated at the memory.

“I still don't get what that has to do with me,” Eddie rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“You tell us,” Dustin crosses his arms.

“I don't fucking know.”

“Just tell us what happened between the two of you,” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose, a hand in his hip.

Eddie tucks his hands in his armpits. He spends too long looking between Dustin and Steve. He really doesn't want to do this. He really really doesn't want to do this, but he also doesn't want to be put in the same league as fucking Jason. Frustrated that he’s backed into a corner for the second time today, Eddie wets his lips with his tongue.

“Fine, fine. We’ve been flirting. Last week we made out a little- the night you guys watched E.T.. I was supposed to come over the next day after you were gone so we could… y’know,” Eddie gestures awkwardly with his hands.

Both Dustin and Steve let out an ew.

“Yeah, anyway. You were still there. When we were talking in their room I said that maybe it's for the better that we didn't do anything. After that… I dunno what happened exactly. They started going on about me having a sexuality crisis, which isn't what was happening. I was just worried you would be pissed at me if we did do something,” Eddie finishes explaining. 

Dustin and Steve exchange a look again. Eddie hates this. He hates feeling put under a microscope. He hates that you’ve turned on him so quickly. 

“You sure you weren’t… experimenting?” Steve asks, jerking his chin up at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I got experimenting out of my system a long time ago, alright? I know who and what I like.”

Steve nods and rubs his jaw in contemplation. He glances once more at Dustin who wears a troubled expression. That troubled expression is aimed directly at Eddie.

“You're both pussies,” Dustin states.

“Excuse me?” Steve scoffs.

“Not you,” Dustin rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a pussy. I tried, alright? Whenever we talk now it’s just a fucking fight,” Eddie says heatedly. 

“You used me as an excuse. That’s why they think you’re full of shit. You flirt and make out then all the sudden you get concerned with what I think? It’s bullshit, Eddie. You just got scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of the possibility you could have feelings!”

Eddie’s jaw sets. His hands tuck back into his armpits, now his arms apply more pressure. Acid rises in his throat. The kid is right. It’s not that he has any crazy feelings right now, but he can feel them coming. Like a sneeze building up, he can sense the oncoming rush. The way you carry yourself, the way you speak to others, the way you speak to him. Eddie knows he could catch feelings fast if given the chance. When an out was presented, he took it. It’s the feelings that make this feel messy, not your relation to Dustin.

“Can we just fucking agree that I’m not Jason?” Eddie sounds more desperate than he’d like. 

“You’re not Jason, but you gotta get them to realize that,” Steve tells him.

Eddie sighs.

“I’m going inside. I’ll see you later,” he mumbles, turning on his heel. 

This conversation has him exhausted. You have him exhausted. He knows he has to find a way to talk to you. Talk, not argue. Not fall down a rabbit hole of aggressive sexual tension. Right now, though, he needs to take a fucking nap.

***

The short rap on the front door startles you. You wait for a beat where you lay on the couch. Another set of three knocks. Curiously, you answer the door. When you see Eddie standing with the screen door open you go to close it again. His hand flies out and stops the door from shutting.

“Will you just let me talk?” He huffs.

“Fine,” you sigh and go back to the couch.

You don't bother checking if he’s following. The screen door creaking shut followed by the front door lets you know. He sits delicately next to you. There's a few inches of space left between your legs. Eddie fiddles with the rings that have become a permanent fixture on his left hand. 

“So, talk,” you order.

“I’m not Jason, alright?”

“Cool, that it? You can see yourself out.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Eddie snaps. 

He tries to believe he made a valiant effort to stay calm. Your attitude irritates him more each time you show it. Eddie is a lot of things, patient in the face of unwarranted malice is not one of them. 

“You, you’re my fucking problem.”

“Me? Henderson, you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” Eddie turns your own words against you.

Your head snaps to look at him. Nostrils flaring, face red, and eyes full of contempt. 

“Please, Munson, you’re beneath me. You’re pathetic,” you sneer.

Jesus Christ, there's no reason your words went straight to Eddie’s dick the way they did. How are you able to play him with more skill than he does his guitar? 

“I wasn't pathetic when you were sucking my face off by the dumpster,” he counters.

“You act like I sucked your dick. It was a stupid kiss.”

“I remember you wanting to jump my bones after that stupid kiss,” Eddie mocks you.

Your fists clench in your lap. You’re about a second away from grabbing Eddie by his hair and showing him just how pathetic he is. 

“Yeah, then unfortunately for you, you kept running your fucking mouth.”

“Unfortunately for me? Trust me, sweetheart, you’re the one missing out. I woulda rocked your world, anyone else woulda been ruined for you,” Eddie’s voice is condescending with a challenging edge. 

You lean in slightly with narrowed eyes.

“I really doubt that.”

Eddie leans in some.

“Do you?”

You lean in even further.

“Yeah, I do.”

Eddie’s eyes flash down to your mouth before quickly moving back to your eyes. 

“Maybe I should prove it to you then.”

“Now who wants to fuck so bad they look stupid?” You smirk. 

“Fuck it, me,” Eddie breathes and closes the space between you.

His hands are on your face. His mouth moves furiously against yours sending shockwaves down your body. One of your hands takes hold of the back of Eddie’s hair. The other runs along his jaw until it’s circled around his neck. You force him away by tugging back on his hair and pushing forward on his throat. He looks so pretty like this with his big eyes wide as can be, all pupils. His face is flushed and his breathing is ragged. Eddie is pliant in your grasp.

“Look at you. Just as pathetic as I thought,” you coo teasingly.

“I’ll show you pathetic,” he grumbles.

In a blink, you’re flat on your back, wrists pinned above your head with one of Eddie’s strong calloused hands. He hovers over you. The heat radiating from his body soaks into your skin. The tip of his nose brushes against yours.

“You’re a real fucking brat, y’know that? Go on, admit it. Tell me you're a brat,” he hisses in your face, warm breath hitting your lips.

Your heart is pounding. Your body is heating up. Every part of you wants this so bad no matter how much you hate it. 

“You’re an asshole,” you hiss back.

Eddie’s rings are cold against your jaw. His grip is punishing as he manhandles your face. He presses his forehead to yours. Those huge brown eyes are commandeering as they lock onto yours.

“Am I gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you?”

You manage to let out a taunting laugh.

“You don’t have what it takes to fuck anything out of me,” you bite.

His grip tightens making talking impossible. Eddie's mouth brushes against your ear and his hair tickles your nose.

“I’m going to fuck you until the only words you know are Eddie, please, and more,” he whispers. 

You hate the shiver that runs down your spine. You hate how much he just turned you on, how much you want what he’s threatening you with. Every nerve ending is on fire. Eddie’s lips begin an assault on the soft bit of skin just below your ear. The sensation makes you squirm in delight. Eddie smiles against your neck.

“There you go, now you’re behaving. Now that you’ve finally shut the fuck up,” he taunts.

You glare at him, still unable to speak with his hand holding your face. That’s it. He’s been on you long enough. You’ve let him have control for long enough. Confusion flashes across his face when you smile. You lock your legs around Eddie’s waist. With a grunt, you launch your hips and legs up and over. 

Eddie lands with an annoyed noise on his back on the carpeted floor. You straddle him, wrists free. Now you grip both his wrists next to his head. You brandish a wicked smile as he looks up at you in surprise. Clearly he wasn't expecting to be bested at that moment. Your knees dig into the carpet uncomfortably around his hips, but you ignore it. Eddie’s slightly nervous expression takes your attention off of it. You lean in to brush the tips of your noses together like he did before. 

“What, big boy? Not feeling very confident anymore? You got no more to say?” you mock him quietly.

“I already said everything I need to say,” he mumbles back.

“What’s that, bitch? I didn't hear you,” your voice drips with venom. 

Something in Eddie completely snaps. He swears he hears the sound of it. A deafening CRACK SNAP POP. Then whatever wild animal that has been scratching at his insides bursts free. 

“Alright, I’m real fuckin’ tired of this attitude, sweetheart. Guess I’m gonna have to do somethin’ about it.”

You open your mouth to challenge him further. To berate him, degrade him. He can feel it. While it would only egg him on, only contribute to the growing erection in his pants, he won't allow it. He won't let you win control over this situation. Not this time. You’re already far too smug.

Eddie manages to rip his hands away from yours. In a blink, he’s sitting up. You place your hands flat on his chest to shove him back down, but he moves too fast. His hands are under your ass, scooping you up as he stands in a second. Instinctively, you wrap yourself around him to avoid falling. He has a firm steady grip on you, though.

“You won't be able to walk right when I’m done with you,” he growls, setting off for your bedroom.

“I just don't believe you’re good enough at sex for that,” you whisper into his ear with a smirk.

“Oh, I’ll make a believer out of you. My dick will have you meeting God and calling him by my name.”

He throws you onto your bed. The rough manhandling is something you never knew you wanted. It’s riling you up even more. 

“You got condoms or are we doing this raw?” Eddie questions.

“I have condoms, but we’re doing this raw anyway,” you answer smugly.

“Is that what you think?” he taunts.

He rummages around your bedside table. There’s a decent sized box of condoms that’s about three quarters of the way empty. Admittedly, you haven't touched the box in a while. It’s from another life that ended months ago. However, when Eddie teases you about them, you find yourself lying.

“Jesus Christ, you’re more of a fucking whore than I took you for,” he holds up the box, shaking it to emphasize how empty it is.

“I like sex, and I like cumming even more. Too bad only one of those things will be happening tonight.”

Eddie takes out a condom and throws the box back in the drawer. He unbuttons his pants and kicks them off unceremoniously. You can see the imprint of his dick hardening in his tight boxers. He looks down at you with hooded lustful eyes. Soon you’re staring at his bare dick, his underwear abandoned on the floor. It bobs throbbing and red, glistening with precum. 

“Get on your hands and knees. M’gonna use that big mouth of yours since you like havin’ it open so fuckin’ much,” he snaps.

You don’t know why, but you listen. Now that you’re on your bed with Eddie’s dick right there, all fight is gone. Eddie's hand grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes into your mouth. 

“Shit,” he moans as you welcome him in with a twirl of your tongue. 

He starts fucking your face slowly. You look up at him through your lashes. Eddie is watching you take him into your mouth like it's nothing. The eye contact makes you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he brushes the back of your throat. 

“Never thought I’d get you to shut the fuck up,” Eddie grunts as he picks up his pace. 

You try to remove your mouth. A scalding remark on the tip of your tongue. His grip on your hair tightens until it burns. His thrusts don't break.

“Not so fast, sweetheart. I plan on cumming down your throat before that loud mouth of yours starts up again.”

And fuck if that doesn't send you on a mission. Eddie doesn't even need to guide you after that, but it doesn't stop him. He refuses to relinquish control. He refuses to give you an opportunity to flip this on him. Finally, his hips stutter. Then he’s holding your head, calling out a resounding FUCK, and buries your nose in the dark hair at the base of his dick. You moan as Eddie shoots hot streams of cum down your throat. You take every last drop.

Once he’s finished, his grip on your hair loosens. You sit back on your heels. While making eye contact, you use the back of your hand to wipe your mouth. It’s a move that makes Eddie’s softening dick twitch.

“You had something to say?” Eddie's voice is raspy, but still condescending.

You narrow your eyes at him. As if he wasn't just using your mouth to get off, you cross your arms petulantly. 

“No, it’s okay. I don't think your fragile ego can handle it,” you shrug.

Eddie huff in disbelief.

“I just fucked my cum down your throat and your gonna call my ego fragile?”

“Seems so.”

“Just tell me what you were gonna fuckin’ say,” he orders, climbing into the bed over you.

Eddie crowding you causes you to lay back. Even in the compromising position, you smirk smugly. Eddie’s hair tickles your cheeks as he hovers over you. He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“It was nothing really… Just that Jason’s dick always managed to shut me up way faster than yours did,” you say casually, almost bored. 

“Jason’s di- are you seriously bringing him up right now?”

“Why, that bother you?”

“Considering I’m about to make you meet God like we talked about, yeah a little,” Eddie’s voice is breathy. 

He actually sounds a bit irritated.

“Never took you for the religious type.”

Eddie gets a wicked smile.

“‘M not, but you’re already in bed with the Devil, baby. Only one other Big Man to meet.”

“Big? Is that what you think of yourself?”

“Do you need a reminder? I’ll be happy to fuck that pretty mouth of yours again.”

Eddie leans down closer. Fuck, you want to kiss him. You don't. You won't let him know just how much you’re enjoying this. Instead you smile teasingly.

“You think my mouth is pretty?” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, I hate to admit it, but… Not gonna lie, I think every part of you is unreal. Y’know, until you start talking.” 

You snake your hands up Eddie’s chest. Slowly and sensually, you make your way up his shoulders. Then you skirt up and around to the back of his neck until your fingers tangle in his hair. Eddie really likes when you play with his hair. You can tell by the way his eyelids droop a little more at the contact. He almost looks like he’s about to lean down and kiss you. So, you take your chance.

Your grip tightens tenfold. Eddie’s eyes widen as you pull him back, sitting up in the process. He hisses, but doesn't complain otherwise. You glide the tip of your nose up the side of his neck until you reach his earlobe. With a smirk, you angle your head up so you can speak into his ear. 

“I’m gonna use that big mouth of yours since you like having it open so fucking much,” you whisper, using his own words against him.

You swear you hear him breathe a curse. You let go of his hair, knowing he’ll follow you wherever you lead. Eddie is sure you could lead him into Mordor, up Mount Doom, and down into the lava like Sméagol. He’s sure that whatever painful obsession the ring of power imposed on Frodo, you just imposed on him. For better or worse. Eddie Munson is officially and completely captivated by you. You’re his precious.

That’s why he doesn't hesitate. He doesn't argue. He doesn't talk back. Instead he watches, waits patiently for you to settle into your pillows and peel off your shorts and underwear. Eddie happily, even eagerly, let’s you fuck his face like he did yours. You swear his tongue is magic. It’s hitting all the right spots, deft movements eliciting loud moans from you. 

“Look at you. Just as pathetic as I thought,” you say as your thighs clench around Eddie’s head, your fingers digging into his scalp.

All Eddie can manage is a moan as you fill his mouth. You don't take as long as Eddie did to finish. Him using you and cumming down your throat had gotten you close enough, closer than you care to admit. You cum with a loud moan, no actual words coming out. With your fingers tangled in his hair, you pull him up. He looks dazed, drunk on your taste. 

“At least your mouth is good for something,” you tell him with a slick grin. 

Christ, Eddie is a goner. He’s an absolute goner. This is so so bad.

“Look at you, you’re already all fucked out and we haven't even gotten to actually fucking yet. You’re really making me miss Jason…” you sigh dramatically. 

The mention of Jason again wakes Eddie up. A growl rumbles through his chest. His hand finds your wrist, applying enough pressure to get you to let go of his hair. He clambers over you, face real close to yours. There’s something hungry in his dark eyes. Something carnivorous.

“I’m gonna make sure you forget about fucking Jason,” he hisses.

“Fucking Jason is the one thing I like to remember,” you tease.

Eddie silently curses his own poorly placed fuck that gave you that opening. Hearing Jason’s name in the middle of this is seriously starting to grate his nerves.

“That’s it,” Eddie grumbles.

Before you can question him, he grabs onto your waist. With little effort he flips you onto your stomach. Your face is held sideways against your pillows. Eddie forces your hips in the air. You can feel the tip of his dick tease your entrance, causing you to twitch. 

“What happened to the condom, prude?” you spit at him from your compromised position.

“The whore wanted it raw, the whore will get it raw,” he growls back. 

It’s in that submissive state, Eddie’s rings digging into your scalp as he holds you down, him degrading you that you realize you’re a goner. You’re an absolute goner. This is so, so bad.

“What’re you waitin’ for then?” you question.

A loud SLAP rings out and a burning sensation spreads across your ass cheek. You gasp at the feeling. 

“This is for my pleasure, whore. This isn't about you. I’ll go as fast or slow as I like.”

On the last word Eddie pushes into you. He doesn't go too fast at first. Sure, he wants to fuck you until you can't walk, but he doesn't want to hurt you. The foreplay was minimal, slow is better for now. You whine as he bottoms out. Completely stretched out and full you can do nothing but grip the sheets on either side of your head. 

Slowly, Eddie begins to move. He’s so lost in the feel of you around him and his own mutterings of Jesus Christ that he doesn't register you speaking at first.

“What?” He breathes.

You cackle.

“Christ, Munson, you’re pathetic.”

There’s that word again. That fucking word. Eddie leans down, both of your damp shirts still on and sticking to each other. 

“Remember what I said earlier?” he whispers into your ear.

“I remember you saying you think I’m unreal,” you mock him.

He straightens back up.

“Yeah, yeah, keep talkin’ while you still can. Soon you’ll only be able to say Eddie,” he gives a single powerful thrust earning a moan from you, “please,” another powerful thrust, “more.”

Eddie sets off on a wild chase of his second orgasm and your delirium. Admittedly, that delirium was setting in very fast. His movements are quick, strong, and fluid. You can't think of anyone else who has fucked you like this. In a way you didn't realize you’ve been craving. In a way that doesn't make you feel like an object, a subject to be studied, or a novelty. Eddie makes you feel a person who is desired, even in spite of the animosity ripe between you. He makes you feel like a whore in the best way possible.

“Shit, you feel so fucking good,” Eddie groans as you tighten around him. 

He’s giving you so much already, but he was right. There are only three words you can think of right now. Only three words you think you’re capable of uttering.

“Eddie,” you moan.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

“Come again?”

“More.”

“Not sure I heard you right,” he says smugly, never breaking pace.

“Eddie, please, more,” you moan.

“Thought so.”

Eddie’s thrusts become animalistic. All the anger, frustration, name calling, and overall emotion from the rollercoaster that your relationship has been are being taken out on you. You start saying it like a mantra. Eddie, please, more. It’s a white flag, a surrender. It’s you telling him he’s won. Boy, oh, boy is it a sweet fucking sound. A sound that turns into a scream of a moan with your body tensing around him. He spills into you, hips flush against your ass. His own moans mingle with yours in the air. 

You collapse onto your stomach, Eddie close behind. He stays on top of you. After a minute of catching his breath he rolls off of you. You stay on your stomach as you come back to your senses. 

“You alright, Henderson?” Eddie’s voice is much softer than you’re expecting. 

You turn your head to face him. He’s watching you with wide eyes. How does he manage to look so innocent after everything he just did to you?

“Yeah, Munson, I’m peachy. You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He nods, eyes never leaving you. Your eyes don't leave him. What’s the point in trying to hide staring after all that? You don't care that he is and he doesn't care that you are. 

“So, you still miss fucking Jason?” Eddie asks playfully.

“Who?” 

“Good,” he smiles, looking awfully pleased with himself. 

“Do we still hate each other? I can't remember anymore,” you knit your eyebrows to feign confusion. 

Eddie laughs. It’s a low sound that rumbled through his chest. His eyes take on a gooey quality that you fear you may get stuck in.

“I think we might like each other now. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Sounds good to me.”

***

The scent of sex is thick and heavy in the air when you wake up. Golden light streaks across your face as the sun lowers beneath the horizon. When you shift to turn over and check the time on your alarm clock, a warm weight stops you. Eddie’s arms are around you loosely, holding you against his chest. Both of you are still in only your shirts. 

Carefully, you extract yourself. Eddie groans, but doesn't wake. You only bother with a new pair of underwear. Your stomach lets out a loud grumble and the hunger hits you. You take another look at Eddie’s sleeping form. The annoyance doesn't creep up at the sight of him anymore. Something else does in its place. Something you decide not to dwell on. All you know is if you’re this hungry, he’ll wake up hungry too.

Eddie wakes up to the smell of sex, bacon, eggs, and melted butter. It takes a second to get his bearings. The smell makes him think morning, but the position of the sun tells him it's evening. He crawls out of your bed and pulls his bottom layers back on. When he makes his way out to the main living area he finds you in the kitchen. You’re humming God Only Knows and pushing eggs around in a sizzling pan. Beside you is a plate of bacon and a plate of pancakes. 

There’s a moment where the only thing Eddie can do is watch you. You’re bathed in the last golden rays of the evening, nothing but that baggy white muscle tank and a fresh pair of black underwear. The song isn't one he goes out of his way to listen to, but Wayne has thrown it on a few times. Enough for Eddie to recognize the Beach Boys’ tune. 

“All that for you?” Eddie finally alerts you to his presence. 

You jolt a little in surprise and whip around to look at Eddie. A coy smile crawls upon your face.

“Uh- no. I woke up starving and figured you would too,” you shrug.

As if on cue, Eddie’s stomach lets out a loud growl. You laugh and gesture for him to sit at the table. The whole scene feels so… domestic. If something in Eddie snapped earlier, something else is connecting now. There’s a satisfying click in his head as the sensation of things finally being on the right track sets in. 

“Y’know, I didn’t peg you for a Beach Boys fan,” Eddie comments after a moment of only the sound of you scraping eggs around the pan.

You don't look at him, but Eddie swears he sees color rise to your cheeks.

“I’m not really. It��� my dad used to sing that song all the time,” you explain, something close to troubled taking over your voice.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise. He’s never heard mention of Father Henderson before. Dustin only ever has complaints about your mom. Neither of you have mentioned a father until now.

“Dustin’s never mentioned-”

“He wasn't Dustin’s dad.”

You slide the scrambled eggs onto the last empty plate. Eddie watches you bring them over before grabbing a couple more plates for the two of you to eat from. Then some cutlery.

“I’m sorry if I brought up a sore subject,” he apologizes with big eyes as you sit across from him.

You begin shoveling food onto your plate.

“You didn't. I actually love talking about him, but my mom and Dustin have never really felt the same. So, I just don’t.”

“Do you want to talk about him now?” 

You finally look at Eddie. Eyebrows slightly raised, eyes a tad wider than normal, and a soft smile on your lips. He wonders if it's okay to reach over and kiss you. 

“His favorite song was God Only Knows by the Beach Boys, but I guess you probably figured that out.”

“Not a bad choice.”

You chuckle.

“I can't imagine you listening to the Beach Boys.”

“I don't, but Wayne does sometimes. God Only Knows is one of the only ones that doesn't make me want to rip my hair out,” he flashes you a playful smile.

“My dad would sing it whenever he was doing something boring. Laundry, dishes, but especially cooking.”

Eddie nods as he fills his own plate. There’s a couple minutes where the two of you eat in silence. Occasional voices could be heard outside, some cats, and the clinking of bottles as recycling goes out. The average soundtrack of Forest Hills.

“Can I ask what happened or is that not cool?” Eddie asks genuinely. 

He really doesn't know how to navigate this conversation. He doesn't want to piss you off or upset you in general. All he knows is how he would want to be asked and, honestly, he simply wouldn't. You don’t seem as closed off on that front as he is, though.

“Pancreatic cancer. My mom ended the marriage before the cancer did, though. Said it was too much for her to handle.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Eddie suddenly felt very guilty for asking.

You just shrug. 

“Where’s Dustin’s dad?”

“Who knows,” you snort, “he ran off with some woman from his job.”

“Jeez, your mom really has-”

“Poor choice in men? Yeah.”

“I was gonna say piss poor luck.”

You laugh, which loosens some of the tension that's built around the conversation. Eddie chuckles along, scarfing some food down in the process. 

“We would fly kites when it was nice out. Sometimes he’d bring me to the lake where we’d fish and swim. He liked going to the library a lot, too. I basically grew up in the mystery section. A lot of that was lost when the cancer got bad, though. All of it, really. All of it except that song. No matter how bad it got, he always sang that song,” you rattle on sadly, but with a smile.

It’s been so long since you've talked about him. It feels good. Like visiting him after a long time away. Memories are nice, but there’s something special about sharing them. It’s easier to relive them. Easier to enjoy them when you get to do it with someone else. Maybe it’s just because that someone else is Eddie. You think if anyone will understand, or at the very least respect, how it feels it'd be him. 

“What was his name?”

“Jack. Jack Coleman.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. He narrows his eyes and leans in, pointing his fork in an accusatory fashion. 

“Wait, so, you’re not a Henderson? You’re a Coleman?” He questions.

You break out in a smile. 

“Guilty.”

Eddie looks like he was struck by lightning. Like the heavens just opened up and revealed the meaning of life to him. 

“Shit, wait… I do remember you!”

“No, you don't,” you shake your head, attempting to hide how mortified that sentence makes you.

“Yes, I totally do! All your friends called you Cole. You had those sick green vans,” he wears a goofy smile.

You feel heat crawl up your neck.

“You remember my vans?”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to flush bright red.

“Yeah, like I said, they were sick.”

“I still have’em somewhere. Maybe I’ll break’em out one day,” you smile.

Both of you clear your plates after that. You really were hungry. It’s an amicable silence. One that grows more uncomfortable in your chest because you know another hard conversation has to be had.

“I know you’re not Jason, by the way. I mean, I know now. Sorry I jumped to conclusions. I've been through a lot of Jasons,” you tell him softly.

Eddie offers a soft smile.

“S’alright. Would you tell me what happened there? I can't imagine you with fuckin’ Jason.”

You chuckle.

“Yeah, he asked me for help at work and then started saying all the right things. The dating pool for me in Hawkins is small. So, when he said he didn't want anyone to know I said okay. When he pretended not to know me in public I said okay. Then, one day, he was just…,” you frown at the memory of them walking down the street holding hands, “with Chrissy Cunningham. I asked him about it, but he was pissed I called his house. Called me about every derogatory name you can think of.”

Eddie could actually kill Jason. He already hated him, but now he’s actively cursing the ground the asshole walks on. How could he treat you so shitty? How could he not feel grateful he gets to be in your presence in this capacity? 

“Well, I’d like to keep doing this. As public as possible. I want everyone to know I’m with someone this unreal,” he keeps his tone playful, but you can see the sincerity in his eyes. 

Your heart starts pounding against your chest. Eddie is sitting across from you offering you everything you’ve ever wanted in a relationship. Someone who not only wants to be with you, but is proud to be with you. It’s almost too much. 

“So, you're with me now, huh?” you tease.

“I sure am,” Eddie teases back with a wolfish grin.

“Maybe let's start with an actual date.”

“You asking me out, Hen-Coleman,” he places emphasis on getting the last name right. 

A smile forms on your lips. You don't have an issue with being called a Henderson. The different last name is why so many people don't know you and Dustin are related. So, you don't correct people anymore when they call you Henderson. The reminder that you're technically only half siblings has always upset Dustin.

“Yeah, I think I am, Munson.”

“Then I expect to be picked up at seven sharp. You better have flowers and chocolates. I’m expensive to date.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Eddie helps you clean without you asking. He takes over the dishes, scooting you out of the way and instructing you to dry and put them away. 

“I dunno where anything goes,” is his excuse.

Really, he just wanted to take on the more arduous task for you. A sort of repayment for making him food. The effortless kindness you've met him with after the sex you had. The angry, heated sex. Eddie finds it kinda funny how the two of you have fallen into this little exchange of kindness and good will considering how the day began. 

When the dishes are all done and put away, Eddie begins awkwardly fiddling with his rings. It feels like his time with you is coming to an end. He doesn't want to overstay his welcome, but fuck does he want to stay. Just hanging out with you like this makes him feel… normal. He doesn't feel like the Freak, the drug dealer, or the fuck up. He just feels like Eddie and, for the first time, he feels like maybe that's enough. 

“Is it really dumb to ask you to stay?” you ask him suddenly.

You’re standing across the small kitchen, having just put the last of the plates away. Eddie looks at you with wide, excited eyes.

“Awe, you wanna spend more time with me, Coleman?” Eddie coos teasingly. 

“Alright, forget I said anything,” you roll your eyes with a smile.

Eddie lets out a laugh.

“I’ll stay until you kick me out,” he smiles back. 

You don't kick him out until you have to go to work the next afternoon.

***

The next time Dustin calls to beg for permission for Hellfire to meet at your place, you agree without hesitation. The day before you work, but only until five. Eddie is waiting in his van in front of the store when you exit, a lit cigarette between his lips. You smile and hop in. 

“I wasn't expecting you to pick me up,” you say as you buckle your seatbelt.

You know he had work at the record store today. Eddie takes one last drag of his cigarette and puts it out in the cup holder on his side. He’s been doing that ever since you yelled at him for flicking his butts out the window. 

“Got out at four. I’m not gonna let my precious Coleman walk home if I can help it,” he shows off a goofy smile and starts to drive. 

“You think I’m precious,” you coo.

“More precious than the One Ring,” he coos back.

“Okay, you've lost me.”

Eddie glances at you in disbelief.

“You have Henderson as a brother and you don't know Lord of the Rings?” 

“Oh, that’s those books that read like textbooks, right?”

“Read like- Jesus Christ, I might have to rethink this whole situation,” he says to himself.

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I don’t have much time for reading. So, when I do, if it's not simple and to the point, I can't get into it.”

“Lord of the Rings is art. It’s a painting on paper.”

“Aren’t all paintings on paper?”

“Canvas,” he corrects, “you’re makin’ me feel real smart today.”

“Glad I can be of service,” you say sarcastically. 

“Seriously, though. That’s like… my favorite thing other than D&D and music,” his voice is more tender, more serious.

And you, he thinks. It’s far too early to admit that. Doesn't mean he doesn't feel that way, though.

“Maybe I can give it another go,” you shrug.

Eddie throws a soft smile your way. You hold onto the warmth it fills you with for as long as you can. Eddie ends up staying the night, which isn't much of a surprise. It was clear he was expecting it because he brought his D&D bag with him. It did make setting up the next day easier since he was already there. 

By the time Dustin shows up Eddie is all set up. You’re laying on the couch, Eddie is crouched beside you. His face is close to yours, a sly smile present. You’re busy giggling like a maniac at whatever he must have said. Dustin lets the screen door fall shut behind him. The sound of it slamming startles you and Eddie. 

“What’s going on?” Dustin asks suspiciously. 

Eddie smiles widely.

“Just telling Coleman here what’s in store for you guys today,” he says easily. 

Dustin visibly stiffens. He doesn't find this situation as amusing as the two of you seem to.

“Coleman,” Dustin states, eyes set on you.

You can see the hurt. It’s been so long since you've corrected someone on your last name. You didn't think about how the sudden change might make Dustin feel rejected.

“Yeah, y’know, their last name,” Eddie eggs the conversation on, unaware of the ugly feelings bubbling up.

“I know their last name, Eddie,” Dustin snaps. 

That clues Eddie into the sore nature of the subject. He glances apologetically between you and Dustin. 

“Dustin, don’t be rude,” you chide.

“You two were at each other’s throats the last time I saw you together and you’re telling me not to be rude?” 

“Well, we’re not at each other’s throats now. So, yeah, I am,” you begin catching Dustin’s own attitude. 

You sit up, causing Eddie to stand. 

“Whatever, it’s bullshit and you know it,” he rolls his eyes and throws his bag down next to the chair he usually occupies. 

“Excuse me, what’s bullshit?” You question and stand up.

Eddie is watching helplessly. He can't help but feel like he incited this situation. Dustin gestures widely at the air around you and Eddie.

“You telling me what to do. You guys are friends today, but tomorrow you’ll probably be fighting again. Isn't that how it goes with you?”

Any emotion falls from your face. Your hands shake a bit. You won't let them see you break. You won't derail their night. Besides, Dustin is right. You and Eddie are good now, but you like to blow up all the good things in your life. Ever since your father died, the idea that anything good may be permanent feels more like a pipe dream. It’s easier to discard good things before good things discard you.

“Yeah, it is. I’m going to be in my room. Have fun with your campaign,” you mumble and storm past him to your room.

The door doesn't slam. It clicks shut calmly, which is scarier. Eddie rounds on Dustin. 

“What the fuck is your problem, Henderson?” he demands.

“I don't have a problem.”

“You wanna talk about bullshit? What is it? Am I not good enough-”

“Eddie, you know that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

Dustin takes a second. He sighs, closing his eyes, and then opening them once more.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” 

The waver in Dustin’s voice throws Eddie off. His features soften as he looks at Dustin. Guilt washes over him. Sure, Dustin might be younger and Eddie might see him as a protege, or a younger brother, but he’s still one of Eddie’s best friends. Fuck, this was really shitty of him. He should have told Dustin he’s into you, regardless of how obvious it was. He should have told him you two have hooked up and are seeing where things go. Maybe not official, but exclusive. Instead, he acted like it didn't matter. Like it didn't matter that he’s seeing his best friend’s older sibling. Eddie runs an anxious hand over his face, stopping at his chin to hold it in thought.

“I’m really sorry, Dustin,” is all he can say in the end.

“I don't want an apology. I want an answer. I asked you so many times, Eddie. Every time you just dismissed me. I’m not stupid! And I don’t care! I’m happy for you, for both of you. I just… I just really wish you told me.”

Eddie takes a shaky breath. Dustin's words fall heavy on his shoulders. They're a weight he can tell he’ll be carrying for a while. 

“I should’ve. I was afraid of what you'd think. What you’d say. It’s not an excuse, I know, but… I dunno I think this is real, man. It feels real.”

Dustin does what Eddie thought he may never do again. He hugs him. It takes Eddie a second to register, but once he does he hugs back tight. He’s hopeful when they separate. 

“I think it’s great. Seriously, you both look really happy. But if you hurt them, Eddie, I’ll get Steve to beat you up.”

Eddie nods with wide eyes.

“Understood.”

“Okay, I have to go apologize,” Dustin sighs. 

Eddie watches him disappear to your room. Mike and Will come strolling in. Eddie thanks whatever is out there that they showed after all that. 

***

“So, we’ve been doin’ this a while now,” Eddie says, head lolling over to look at you.

You’re in your bed, fully clothed. These nights are Eddie’s favorite. Together in bed for the sake of being together in bed and nothing else. Eddie’s hair is splayed out behind him. The singular telephone pole light outside exposes the blush on his cheeks. It makes you smile. You like that you do that to him. 

“I s’pose we have,” your voice is soft and quiet.

“D’you maybe wanna make this an official thing?” 

He looks shy, nervous. It’s adorable. 

“I’d love to be an official thing with you.”

“Metal,” he breathes with a smile.

You chuckle and press a joyful kiss on his lips. When you pull away Eddie can tell you have an idea. Your smile gets this funny little quirk when you get an idea.

“Since we’re an official thing, I guess you should formally meet my father,” you try to sound serious.

Pure confusion crosses Eddie’s face. You gesture to the set up on your dresser. A small urn and some photos. Understanding and then mischief lights up his face. He hops out of bed and stands before the dresser. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Eddie says and bows as if addressing a king. 

You let out a little laugh. Then he’s staring tenderly at the photos. One from your third birthday. You're on your father’s lap covered in cake. Another is from one of the times he took you fishing. You’re around six in that particular photo. The final photo shows you at eight. Your father looks so much older despite it only being a few years. He’s paler, thinner, and more tired looking. You’re tucked into bed with him, asleep. Eddie can only assume it's the last photo you took with him. 

“You were a cute kid,” he comments adoringly and jumps back into bed.

“What, I’m not cute now?” you tease.

“No, you're unreal now, remember,” he smiles.

You chuckle.

“You’re unreal too, Munson.”

One thing’s for sure, Eddie was right. This official thing is definitely real and it’s definitely it for both of you. 

[nenestansunsthings]

"Hey. You're Joe Hills, right?"

The man who turns to him to looks far too normal, a casual guy with long hair and green glasses and gloves. Quackity can't imagine why they beat Wilbur. Why her people campaigned so hard for him, why they had hundreds in the lead for hours upon hours until the polls closed and Wilbur lost to her. When the guy smiles cheerfully towards him, the question only becomes more poignant.

"Yup! That's me! Joe Hills, from Nashville, Tennessee." He offers their hand to shake, and in a flash Quackity takes it. Her grip isn't strong, and he blinks in surprise when Quackity's own is firm. "And you're Quackity, right? Good job with your poll!! That was a real close win, but your people pulled through right where it mattered!"

Quackity waves it off. "I never had a doubt. Of course my fans wouldn't let me lose! I'm the sexiest red bird around here, after all!" Unbidden, his wings flutter. "But heyyy, that's not what I came here for. I came here for you! We had an alliance, didn't we? Come on, hi-five, amigo, we did well today!"

Joe blinks. "We had an alliance?"

"Uh, yeah? What, don't tell me you didn't know." He scoffs. "Your fans didn't tell you? I heard you were out there campaigning yourself. Posting shirtless videos and everything! Just my kinda guy." Cheerfully, he slings an arm around Joe, pleasantly surprised when the guy doesn't even flinch. "I thought you agreed to the alliance yourself!"

"... Oh, that alliance!" Their eyes light up in recognition. "Yeah, I saw a few people talking about that. People get really excited in my chat, y'know? Though they were pretty torn." He shrugs. "I mean, Grian's a friend of mine, even if I have no clue how he thinks. But yeah, that was all them!"

Quackity can't help but stare. "You didn't know they were allying against a friend of yours?!"

"Nope! They just kinda do what they want." Joe laughs, the sound tinged with fondness. Something in that makes Quackity's gut churn uncomfortably. They just… do that? Ally against friends? Work with people who they think will stab them in the back later? And all in the name of someone who doesn't even know what they're planning? "I think it's great that they all got together to support you! But hey, there's only one person I'm hoping will win, and you know who it is! I wouldn't be campaigning for myself if I didn't want that win."

"Ha! Yeah, I know how it is." He grins back, golden tooth gleaming brilliantly. "Don't feel too down when I thrash you, alright?"

"We'll see about that!" Normally, Quackity would be on edge from that kind of declaration, but there isn't a shred of hostility in her vice. There's only delight, friendly competition. "I have faith that my viewers will pull ahead, and that I can campaign hard enough to convince people! I've been working really hard, after all. Even bought some new rainbow eyes, just for the occasion!"

"Wait, what."

Joe blinks, and when their eyes open again they are joined by a hundred others, flickering with a thousand colours and all seeing- staring- beholding. Just before he can think the word watching, they flutter shut.

"That's not the right word for me, just to be clear," Joe chastises him. "Watching. I'm not a part of that group."

Quackity has no goddamn idea what she means. So after a moment of stunned silence, he continues.

"... Do your fans think the eyes are hot?"

"I think they're sexyman enough to win the contest," he says, which clears up nothing. "But, most importantly, I think they'd vote for me anyway! Even without my beautiful, glowing, rainbow-checked eyes. Which are, by the way, divinely beautiful, and should be appreciated."

"Hey, man, if you're the kind of guy to buy new eyes for a competition, they'd better vote for you." Quackity shakes his head. "What, did they bribe you for it? Say they'd vote for you if you blinked in rainbows? That's not a healthy relationship, man, you gotta get out of there."

Joe snorts. "No, this is all for me. But thanks for worrying! If my people ever start demanding I grow new eyes before they tip me, I'll just find new people." He waves a hand nonchalantly. "I don't think my viewers would do that, anyway."

"... Hm." Quackity hesitates, settling a few feet away from Joe. "... I dunno, man. I mean, they made that alliance without you, didn't they? Hard to think you could trust 'em after something like that. Not a lot of unity in that kind of campaign, especially if there was some kind of in-fighting about voting me over your friend."

Some tiny, tiny part of him feels a little sick at the thought. But it dies down quickly enough. This isn't the first time he's brought people to blows over loyalty, after all.

But Joe looks unbothered. "They're good people. They'll figure it out for themselves. And they understand why people would vote you over Grian, or why their friends would support you."

"Oh?" Quackity raises an eyebrow. "You talk like you've seen it yourself. Did they shake hands and make up and write songs about their reconciliation? I'd love to see that- you encourage their poetry, it looks like. They've gotta have some skills."

"Nah, nothing like that. You're thinking too big, Quackity HQ." Their sunny smile shifts, softening at the edges. "They're just friends. They don't hate each other for wanting a different person to win. If this was something important like politics- which is very important, remember to vote on both a local and national level to support what's best for your community!- then it might be different. But this is fine."

He scoffs. "Please. I've seen the posts. Some of those guys came out swinging against me."

"And they know it's an exaggeration!" she assures him. "Just look around. All across this great land of Tumblr, there are people reminding each other to be kind. To be civil. To watch whether their feelings are turning into hate, and to take a step back and breathe if things go too far. Sure, things have gone too far. But that happens in all kinds of events, not just this one. And mostly, our viewers want to be kind."

"Man. You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you." Quackity looks away. "But that's not really what I mean. It's more…"

He's not sure the words are right on his tongue. He says them anyway.

"They're supposed to be united," he tries. "I know you all wanted a Hermitsweep. Your people rule the polls. Doesn't it scare you, that they can split so much behind your back? Isn't it weird, to trust them with this?"

For a second, Joe is silent. Quackity grits his teeth, turns- but the faint green glow of his checkmarks is dim, and there's a twinge of honest fear in his eyes.

"... To be honest, it feels weird." He rests his head on their knees, fingers wrapped tight around her arms. "Just a little bit. I didn't expect this much. And the competition last round was a lot, let me tell you."

Quackity snorts. "I was there, man. No need to tell me. So much voter fraud…"

"And bribery! Don't forget bribery." Joe laughs. "But I do trust them. Whatever they do. I'll be disappointed if I lose, obviously, but it happens. It's hard to really be angry when you think about the core of all this."

"Popularity?" he jokes.

"Well, a little. I've been told Scar is not a sexyman, just a sexy man. Still not sure what criteria people are voting by. But mostly, I think it's love."

"Love?" Quackity raises an eyebrow. "What made you think that?"

Joe sighs. "I dunno. It's just… it's the only thing that it could be, really. This contest doesn't mean anything. There's no prize. All it is is just people wanting the entertainers they love most to win. And look at everything they've created for that goal."

Quackity knows. He's seen the swathes of art, the stories, the people getting out drawing tablets or phones or paper and camera to thank people who voted in their favour. He's seen old artworks shared years after their making. He's seen silly powerpoints, walls of text, analysis and promotions of videos from the starts of careers. It's a little terrifying, really, in the same way angels are.

He's pretty sure Joe would know, too.

"Yeah, not every one of my viewers joined your alliance. Even with my personal campaigning, none of them brought it up to me. But whoever they voted, whether it was Grian because he's someone they fought to see this high up or you because they wanted to share the support your people offered me, they voted out of love. Because they love me, or they love you, or they love whoever else they wanted to win."

"... They love you, huh?"

It's an odd thought. Quackity's well used to heartbreak, to abandonment. To people only staying because he had something to offer. But in this silly contest, with tens of thousands of people cheering for him…

"They love you too," Joe says with a smile. "So I'm happy you won. I'd say you're a pretty worthy opponent."

Quackity barks out a laugh, turning to Joe with fire in his eye. "A worthy opponent? You'll be taking those words back when I win. My people love me, don't they? So I'm sure as hell they'll put their money where their mouth is."

"Oh, we'll see." A thousand eyes open, turning a rainbow gaze upon him. He meets their stare head-on. "After all," Joe Hills says, "You were right about one thing. We want a Hermitsweep."

[gabessquishytum]

Can I please propose a Bathing Addendum to the Amnesia AU?!

Because 1389 Hob definitely needs a little help re-learning the 21st century protocols with regard to bathing/hygiene. And it's a delicate matter because it's not like Dream cares one bit or wants to make Hob feel bad about his natural grimy state. But Hob DID love all those fun, scented, pampering products, (his bathroom looked like an Influencer's free sample stash exploded all over it), even this version of Hob seems delighted by the comforts of the modern world, and not having fleas is SO great, so staying neat and clean could definitely be an important part of the Care and Management of the Amnesiac Hob.

(Though, the one thing he IS a bit weirded out about is how short his hair is. He keeps running his hands through it nervously & wondering how he/they/who cut it that short without slicing his ears with the rusty shears?! It's ok, though, Dream assures him they don't have to keep it trimmed. He shows Hob how to comb it back into a stubby little bun and fix it with these fucking awesome springy circle things.)

Anyway. The first time Dream gingerly shows him the shower and suggests some form of washing, he's surprised that Hob totally goes with it, easy as anything, & immediately just… strips off and even prompts Dream to join him. And Dream belatedly remembers that this kind of thing was more common where/when Hob was from, and he probably washed in the river with his fellow soldiers all the time.

So Dream. Just. Does it. Follows suit. Stripping off his tee and peeling off those tight jeans, all the while STERNLY ORDERING HIMSELF to NOT MAKE IT SEXUAL. No, no, no. It's just a couple of guys washing together.

(He does not, in this moment, realize that it might be useful to remind Hob of the current conventions surrounding adult nudity. Whole parts of his vast mind have just sort of shorted out.)

Dream struggles to keep his physical body under control so as to conceal his own interest as they step in and Hob delights in the warm, indoor rain. But Dream's body is a manifestation of his own will, and right now his own will is having EXTREME DIFFICULTY in shutting the fuck up.

But he can try. He doesn't want to make Hob uncomfortable.

Hob, however, already seems to be having some trouble. See, as tiny a shred of control as Dream has over his own Endless form, Hob is just human and cannot even hope for that much. And his interest is soon VERY clear. He knows not everyone would be opposed to having some extra fun in this perfectly normal communal bathing scenario — he has, after all, frequently kept some of his fellows warm on those cold, muddy nights on campaign if they were amenable. But he doesn't want to presume and scare the pretty lord away.

So Hob is painfully turned on and starting to hate this indoor rain, which is not at all like a river where you could just sneak into slightly deeper water and hope anyone who wasn't interested just politely chose not to notice. He's so self conscious and just trying not to look too much at the perfect form next to him and to hide his own interest — very poorly — with a soapy loofah.

But Dream, who can clearly see what is happening in the sudden spike of daydreams and also right in front of him in the shower, is so sweet about it. And he takes the loofa and gently washes Hob and soothes him and tells him there's nothing to worry about.

And afterward, they fall into the soft bed, which is definitely way more comfortable than a quick fuck in the mud on campaign, and Hob thinks he might really like this modern bathing strategy after all.

Oh absolutely!!! Here's the original amnesia au where Hob doesn't remember the last 600+ years.

I can't stop thinking about the scene in the 1993 Much Ado About Nothing film where all the dudes immediately get naked and wash in a stream(?) together while inside the house all the ladies are in the renaissance equivalent of a shower all together. The casual intimacy of washing together/washing each other is deadass so beautiful to watch.

So yeah, Hob inviting Dream into the shower with him? Very real, very lovely, and feels like an expression of how much Hob trusts Dream. It's all super weird for Hob, but even though he can't remember shit, he just has this feeling that Dream will be good to him. In fact, he has this strange, warm feeling like Dream means something really important to him. And then there's the plain fact that Dream is gorgeous and even in 1389, Hob had a weakness for pretty men.

Dream knows that he should just keep this all platonic and straightforward, but Hob is just adorable. Confused, a little clumsy, so fucking cute with his teeny tiny man bun. Dream is puddle on the floor as he lets Hob’s daydreams and his own feelings combine. So he gives in. He washes Hob’s back, and dries him of in a big fluffy towel that Hob definitely stole from a hotel, and leads him to rediscover the joys of memory foam.

Hob has lost 99% of his memories relating to sex, so Dream doesn't get to experience Hob at his best, necessarily - but maybe because of that, it's actually more special? Hob is vulnerable, a little silly, and very enthusiastic. He wants to explore and learn new things. He's absolutely fascinated and overjoyed by the concept of lube. No spit or oil needed! He can get fucked and it doesn't hurt (much)! Weirdly it also smells like strawberries!

And Hob is mainly just so excited about Dream himself. His gentle, generous and beautiful stranger! He's so in love. Doesn't matter how many memories he has.

[apricotpopsicle]

Sweet Talk

masterlist || requests || ao3

pairing: best friend!Eddie Munson x Reader

word count: 15.6k (oops lol)

warnings/tags: eddie is alive and graduating because i say so, Hawkins is fine too, fem+afab reader, "mean" reader (she's just bad at emotions), eddie and reader make fun of each other a lot! descriptions of light violence, dubious d&d knowledge (sorry), underage(?) drinking, eddie and reader both drink a little, mention of reader having hair, some angst because ofc, mentions of eddie almost dying, mentions of vomit (nondescriptive), insecurity, perceived unrequited feelings, SMUT, slight dom!eddie ig, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, light choking, unprotected p in v (plz use protection y'all, this is just fantasy!), sort of semi-public sex/chance of being caught

description: based on this ask! i definitely did way more than you asked for nonnie my bad lol

Minors DNI!!!!!

---

Your relationship with Eddie Munson has always been unconventional, to say the least.

You've been unlikely friends longer than most people in your life remember. You, however, remember vividly how it happened- the first day of third grade, Mrs. Walcott's class, during lunch. He was what the teachers called a "trouble student," all fidgety limbs and mischievous smiles. You were a "pleasure to have in class," quiet, and mostly kept to yourself.

The day you met Eddie, one of his friends had dared him to yank on your braids in exchange for a twinkie. As soon as his hand released its grip from your hair, you turned around and punched him in the face.

The lunch room went dead silent when his butt hit the floor. You hadn't hit him hard enough to hurt, just enough to stun him. But you could see in his eyes how surprised he was that the shy, mousy girl could lay him out flat like that. You thought he would cry, yell, run to get a teacher. Instead, he opened his mouth wide and devolved into fits of laughter.

You both got in trouble. And in detention that afternoon, he offered you half the twinkie he earned. You thought about punching him again.

You've been inseparable ever since.

That moment defined your whole relationship. If a stranger saw you interacting, they easily could've mistaken you for a couple mortal enemies. You were both sarcastic and a touch combative, but it was all in good fun. He really was your best friend. Your dynamic held a strange kind of intimacy- it was the kind of relationship where you had virtually no secrets from each other.

Okay, maybe you were never exactly "vulnerable" with each other, but it was good. You kept each other grounded. Even when times got hard, when his dad went to prison, when your parents nearly lost the house, you were the only people who could cheer the other up. The only ones who could make each other feel normal. And you never made a dig harder than the other person could take.

When you graduated high school and started going to the local junior college, he was so proud of you. Mostly, he was over the moon you were staying in Hawkins. He didn't say that directly, of course, but you knew. He showed his gratitude by teasing you for not getting out of town, and you teased him for being a super senior. And then, a super super senior.

It was nice. Normal. It was enough for you.

Lately, though, things have been different. You've been so busy with classes and work, and Eddie's been just as preoccupied with running his D&D campaign, and finally snatching up his high school diploma (and apparently, saving the world). You haven't been calling or hanging out like you used to. You've both been weirdly distant. Especially you.

What's even weirder, is on the occasions you do hang out, he's almost... nice to you. Not lobbing insults as fast, not so quick to poke fun at you for stumbling over a word. Maybe it's the fact that he almost died, or that you're both getting older, or... maybe he just doesn't feel as close to you anymore. But you can't get mad at him for being nice. You're definitely not freaking out about it.

And most importantly, you're not freaking out because all the weirdness made you realize you've been in love with him for years.

Nope, not freaking out at all.

But you push those swirling thoughts out of your mind. Your feelings towards your best friends aren't important right now, because today is an important day. Eddie's and your absolute favorite day of the year- the Hellfire Alumni party. An annual tradition that started after the first graduating class of Hellfire club crashed a meeting with enough booze to tranquilize an elephant.

This is the day that every current and former club member can gather together, come home from college, from new cities and new lives to play a crazy, elaborate one-shot (then throw a crazy, elaborate party). This is the event of the year for the nerds, freaks, and outcasts of Hawkins.

And this year, with your parents serendipitously out of town for the week, it's your turn to play host.

You have a solid hour before everyone is set to arrive. The game would be ending soon, but you left early to set up. As per tradition, the afterparty's host was "tragically and without any coincidence at all" sent off on a side quest early in the game to allow for plenty of time to prep for guests.

You flit from living room, to kitchen, to back porch, affixing cheesy homemade D&D decor to the walls, setting up string lights and seats, laying out snacks on the tables, and making sure coolers are stocked and readily available. There's still so much to do if you want this party up to your impeccable standards. This might be too much for one person, and you curse yourself for being too stubborn to ask for an extra set of hands. With how much effort you were putting into the party, you haven't even had time to change out of your Hellfire shirt.

The one you helped Eddie design.

You pause your fussing on the streamer you're hanging up as soon as he crosses your mind.

You'd managed to avoid him completely at the meeting, having shown up late and left early. He was just making you... nervous. Ever since his near death experience in the Upside Down, and how nice he's treating you now, you just can't push down your emotions. Any time he's close to you, you can physically feel the words "I Like You, You Idiot" being pulled from your throat.

And god, it's so hard when he just looks so Goddamn good. Jesus, it's like you can't even control yourself around him anymore. Any time he laughs, or touches your arm, or stretches to reveal a sliver of skin riding above his jeans, the urge to jump him is nearly untamable. That stretch of skin lives in your head rent free, and you start to picture the fabric lifting up and off his body, imagining him in front of you bare and soft and so warm-

Fuck fuck fuck, you need to get it together. You can never let him know he's affecting you like this, or it's bye-bye best friendship and hello awkwardly bumping into each other at the supermarket until one of you moves away.

You've decided it's much better to just push him away until you get a handle on your feelings. Keep him at arm's length. That always works, right?

Luckily, you don't have too much time to dwell. The sound of the front door slamming open returns you to reality.

Right, you're on a step-ladder, hanging streamers. Don't fall off and break your neck because you can't stop thinking about how in love you are with your best friend. How embarrassing would that be?

"I'm coming in! Oh my god- it looks like a middle school dance in here," a deep voice calls from your front corridor.

Of fucking course. Who else would show up at the worst possible time?

"Well, speak of the devil," you call back over your shoulder, ignoring his jab about your awesome decorations and trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Jesus, don't call me that," Eddie's voice appears right behind you this time. You hurry yourself to look busy with the crepe paper you're hanging. Nothing's amiss, you're not avoiding him, nobody has a crush on their best friend. Keep it cool.

"Right, I forgot about the whole 'Eddie-Munson-is-Satan-Reincarnate' thing," you turn over your shoulder to flash a shit-eating grin and feel it falter momentarily. You whip back around quickly, hoping he didn't catch sight of your panic.

Fuck, he looks so good right now. Pale cheeks tinged pink from the excitement of the evening, Hellfire shirt stretched tight across his chest, his hair pulled back into a scraggly low bun with curly tendrils framing his face, neck extended upwards to look at you on the ladder, and God wouldn't it be so easy to reach out and just bite it-

"Wish everyone else could forget," he mumbles.

Right, touchy subject. Roll it back. You want to push him away gently, not to remind him of his recent trauma. Thankfully the feds had spun some story and greased plenty of palms to clear Eddie's name. Legally, he was free and clear, but the town is much slower to forget.

"Well, thank God for government hush money," you offer, glancing back with a smirk.

He chuckles lightly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

An awkward silence settles over the room. Why is he so quiet right now? It's not something you're used to with him. The silence makes your skin feel too tight, your face feel too hot. You feel exposed under his gaze, like an animal cornered.

It's been a while since you've been alone with him, and you can practically see his unasked question hanging in the air between you- are you avoiding me?

You really, really don't want to explain the answer to that question.

He moves forward slightly, his full lips parting around the beginning of your name, so you do the logical thing. You interrupt before he can say anything.

"Is the game over? I thought I had more time," you return to the red streamer billowing loosely above your head. You may have only interrupted Eddie to prevent him from questioning you, but your statement is true. There's plenty left to accomplish before your guests arrive, and you expected more time to complete everything.

Eddie readjusts himself, retreating from whatever he was about to say.

"Nah," he tilts his head, "I had Henderson take over. Wanted to help you set up."

This throws you for a loop. You carefully turn yourself around on the stepladder to face him.

"You, Edward James Munson, left the campaign you've been planning for the past three months to help me... hang streamers?"

That's entirely unexpected. Thoughtful. Sweet, even? Some unwelcome part of you swells at the mental image of Eddie leaving the drama room early, keys in hand, eager to see you. Telling everyone Sorry guys, go on without me, gotta help my girl set up the party!

God, he makes you sick.

"Yeah, figured you'd fuck it up," he says, grabbing an extra roll of streamers off the couch and lobbing them at you. "Couldn't let that happen, could I?"

You catch the roll against your stomach with an unattractive grunt, and the misty vision of Eddie calling you his girl fades away. Right, back to being rude. Good. That's good. Less confusing.

"Asshole," you mutter amicably.

"Only for you," he smiles. You feel your heart tug in your chest, so you throw the streamers at his head. He ducks it with a boyish laugh.

You point out all the tasks that still need attending to, and Eddie makes himself surprisingly useful. Almost everything was finished prior to his arrival, but you'd be lying if you said that his help was unwelcome.

He clears off the couch and finishes laying out all the snacks, and you deal with this fucking streamer that just won't stay up, God damnit.

You both work in silence for several minutes, Eddie moving from room to room just like you did before he arrived. Hopefully with all the prepping, he doesn't have a chance to grill you, and you don't have a chance to slip up and confess anything.

Perfect. Having a task will keep you from utterly embarrassing yourself.

Speaking of your task, this streamer is the worst piece of paper you've ever encountered in your life. This is your White Whale, your Mount Everest. The bright tail of it flutters in your face mockingly, refusing to be affixed to the corner of the room. You wipe a bead of sweat off your temple and clench your jaw on the thumbtack pinched between your teeth, refusing to let this goddamned children's decoration get the best of you.

Somewhere in your periphery, you sense Eddie finish what he was doing and come to a rest leaning against the doorframe. The tiny hairs on your neck raise from the feeling of his eyes on your back.

You're fighting for your life over here, and Eddie is just... holy shit, he's laughing at your very serious, momentous struggle with the streamers!

Whatever, just focus, you think, trying to ignore how shaky his gaze makes your hands, how his laugh makes your stomach flutter, This streamer is imperative to the party's well being.

The corner of the wall is just barely out of your reach, but you refuse to readjust the stepladder again. That's basically admitting defeat. Maybe if you just- just lean over completely to the right, keeping one hand on the ladder for support? Yes! If you fully extend that should work- one arm completely outstretched with the streamer in hand, the ladder squeaks ominously underneath your feet, but you ignore that, you've nearly got it-

The ladder starts to keel over, threatening to send you with it.

Your best friend peels himself off the wall, crossing the room swiftly. He steadies the ladder with both hands, putting its legs firmly back on the floor before you can topple over. His arms bracket you in, and you return to an upright position. Ok, maybe that wasn't the smartest idea you've ever had.

He shakes his head, exasperated.

"Here, Jesus, you're gonna hurt yourself, sweetheart."

Before you have a chance to process sweetheart, Eddie climbs the ladder behind you. He doesn't even tell you to get down first, he simply steps onto the rung underneath the one you perch on. The smell of him envelopes you, the faint scent of cigarettes and weed, of drug store cologne and no-tears apple shampoo. You can feel the heat from his body against your own, pressed behind you, and it's all too much. This is too domestic of him. He's rendered you completely dumb.

His hands snake around your front to pluck the offending decoration from your viselike grip. One strong, ring-clad hand grips your right shoulder for balance. His chest flexes against your back as he leans over with minimal effort to hold the end of the streamer against the wall.

Was it this hot in here before? It feels really hot in here all of a sudden.

"Ok, now give me..." He says absentmindedly, reaching towards your lips with his other hand to pluck the thumbtack from your mouth. Your brain short circuits at the feeling of his calloused fingers brushing your parted lips. It sends an embarrassing bolt of warmth through your stomach, and if he hadn't been basically holding you up, you would have fallen off the stepladder.

"And- got it!" Eddie stabs the thumbtack through the end of the streamer with a victorious flourish of his hand. He leans back in and rights himself behind you, moving his palms to grip your waist for balance.

Fuck. Fuck. He's too close. His hands feel way too good on your sides. He's holding you close, back to chest, and you're sure he can feel your heartbeat thumping wildly out of your ribcage.

This is not good for your "pushing him away" plan. This is, in fact, the exact opposite of pushing someone away.

Eddie slinks back down the ladder, his hands sliding gently down your sides, his breath ghosting down your back as he descends. You can feel your pulse in your teeth. 

And of course, when you shakily turn around, he's offering his hand to help you get down like a total gentleman. Because of course he's doing that right now.

Stupid fucking chivalrous, crazy-hot Eddie Munson.

You need to put a stop to this. Stop letting him be nice to you before you ruin everything (and make sure he doesn't know you were ridiculously turned on by all that).

"Ok, you're being weird," you say, ignoring his outstretched hand. You step off the ladder without his help, and shove the last of the streamer roll against his chest. That puts a healthy amount of space between the two of you, and you can finally breathe again.

"I'm being weird?"

"Yes."

"I'm being weird?"

"Yes," you repeat, purposefully ignoring how he emphasizes the first word.

He pauses. You're not letting this go.

"Weirder than normal?" a lopsided smile appears on his face. You fight the urge to smile back. He's trying to joke it off, but you have to stay strong, set some boundaries. Cool the situation down before you do something you'll both regret.

"I'm serious," you cross your arms against your chest. If anyone asked you'd say they're crossed in annoyance, but it feels more like protecting your vital organs.

"Ok, I'll bite. How am I being weird?"

"You left the game early for me," you list off on your fingers, "You're helping me decorate. You haven't said one thing yet that makes me want to punch you!"

"So?" he drags a hand across his face.

"So! So, you're being... nice to me."

That sentence hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity. Yes, he's definitely the problem. Nice is definitely the problem. If he would just stop being nice, no more being in love with him! Problem solved.

An imperceptible emotion flashes across his eyes, but he recovers before you can name it.

"Aww," he coos mockingly, "I'm always nice to you, princess."

"Fuck off," you shove his shoulder gently. You hate that nickname, and he knows it. He gifted it to you in detention the day you met, with half a twinkie held out like a peace offering in his hand. You punch like a little princess, he told you, and it stuck. You hate it, and it helps to ground you further, having a taste of your normal back and forth.

You realize you haven't taken your hand off his shoulder. Withdrawing it quickly, you put another few inches of space between you, the back of your knees knocking into the stepladder.

"We're not nice to each other, Munson. Be mean to me."

"You want me," his head tilts curiously, "to be mean to you?"

"Yes!" you rapidly exclaim, much louder than you intended. He takes an unsteady step back at your outburst.

"... Ok?"

"Thank you," you breathe.

The two of you stand silent like that for a long time, you still cowering against the ladder, him still cradling the streamers to his chest, unspoken words hanging thick in the air.

Eddie swallows loudly. You feel like he's about to say something, and if he keeps looking at you with his stupid beautiful doe eyes you're either going to kick him out or tear his clothes off.

This time when you hear the front door swing open, you're desperately grateful for whomever is barging into your house unannounced.

Walking single file into the living room is the newest group of Eddie's friends/World saving partners- Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan. You thank God for the group's intrusion. Like, for real, you might give each and every one of them a kiss for rescuing you.

Steve is the first to spot the pair of you.

"Hey, Munsonnnnnn! Woah," Steve looks around, squinting as his eyes adjust to the room's sparkly adornments, "it looks like prom in here."

Eddie's back is to him, and he makes one more attempt at eye contact with you before turning to greet the newcomers. You avoid his gaze.

"Hey, pretty boy!" Eddie turns on his heels, shaking off the awkward fog between you and slipping back into his cool-guy persona, "Glad you could grace us lowly freaks with your presence!"

The pair meet in the middle of the room and do an awkward half handshake/half man-hug.

"Well, no idea how to play yD&D , but I do know how to party," Steve says, raising a six-pack high in the air.

You exchange quick hellos with Jonathan and Nancy. Robin waves at you before scanning her eyes around the room. Her expression drops when she realizes no one else has arrived.

"We're early? Oh my god, we're early! That is so lame," Robin grumbles, kicking Steve lightly in the ankle.

The group bickers and laughs, blissfully unaware of the strained tension between you and your best friend. Unaware of how, if you had taken Eddie's hand when he offered it earlier, you would have pulled him into you and kissed him right there.

You mumble something about needing to go get changed, slipping past the group and rocketing up the stairs. The boisterous conversation fades behind you, and you exhale a sigh of relief.

It's only one night. You can handle yourself for that long.

"Where's Henderson?" you faintly hear Steve ask.

This is exactly what you needed. All your fussing over the decor might have seemed ridiculous at the time, but looking out over the living room, at all your friends enjoying themselves under the fairy lights and streamers fills your heart to the brim.

You play the gracious host, grabbing everyone new drinks, directing your friends towards the bathroom, keeping the music going and the people happy. There's a lot more people than you expected, but it's a perfect scenario for you- with all this party tending, you have no time for Eddie to catch you alone.

Several hours in, with a light buzz going, you find yourself trapped on the couch, being regaled with the epic tale of how the campaign went down after your departure.

A very long, extremely thorough tale.

"- and then I rolled two nat 20s in a row," Mike informs you, absolutely beaming, "I swear, I was on fire tonight!"

"Mmmhmm," you mumble for the hundredth time in the past 15 minutes, head leaning on your fist. You definitely need more beer if you're going to indulge them in this much longer.

Dustin shoves his friend in the shoulder.

"Pants on fire, maybe," Dustin turns to you self-righteously, "It wasn't an honest roll. He totally bumped the table."

"Did not!" Mike scoffs.

"Uh, did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

The pair continues their back and forth for an embarrassingly long time. If this is the future of Hellfire, God help you all.

"Boys!" your eyes snap upwards when you hear Eddie's voice enter the circle, "Boys, boys, boys. Let's stop trying to look cool in front of the lady, shall we?"

Eddie towers over them, his features lit softly by the fairy lights above him. Donning what he believes is a menacing look, he takes on the role of the ever-annoyed parent. The boys turn to him and plead their argument, talking over each other, growing increasingly louder and more frantic. He silences them after a few moments with a dismissive wave of his arm.

"No one cares, kiddos," He tuts. They pout as he continues, gesturing to you with the cup in his hand, "And what do we say for dick-measuring in front of the nice lady?"

"Sorry," both the boys mumble to you at Eddie's behest.

Eddie shoos Mike from his spot on the couch next to you, encouraging him to find his little girlfriend. He plops down ceremoniously, two red solo cups in hand. He positioned himself close, his ripped denim-covered thigh brushing your own. The drag of his leg against yours is so intoxicating, it's hard to remember why being this close to him is a bad idea.

"Both those drinks for you, Munson? That's excessive," you tease.

"Yup," he pops the word theatrically, and brings both the cups to his mouth at the same time. He sips them both goofily and inefficiently, a dribble of cheap beer trickling from one of the cups down his smooth chin.

You pursue the drop with your eyes, and imagine following the trail with your tongue, licking a lazy stripe from his jaw up to his open mouth. You nearly have to stifle a moan picturing what it would taste like- the amber liquid mixing with clean skin and spit.

"You're an animal," you mutter, feigning disgust at his antics.

He growls playfully at you. The noise would have been weird and cringey if it didn't make you throb involuntarily between your legs. It takes all the strength you can muster to roll your eyes.

"Actually sweetheart," he wipes his mouth with the back of his tattooed forearm and passes you one of the cups, "I grabbed this one for you."

Almost in a trance, you grab the beer from him and hold it close to you. You should be making a snarky remark about not wanting to drink his backwash. But once again, the smallest morsel of affection he throws your way leaves you vulnerable and speechless.

Why is it such a bad idea again to give him a thank-you kiss on the cheek, to snuggle into his side, to praise him profusely for thinking of you?

Because, the rational part of your brain reminds you, you're going to ruin your friendship, stupid.

Right. That.

You shrug off your lovesick daze and level Eddie with an indignant look. Not wanting to rehash your previous conversation in the middle of the party, you reiterate your point silently.

What did I just say about being nice to me? you raise an eyebrow at Eddie.

He stares back, then looks off quickly, giving in to your silent demand.

Right, sorry, He throws his hands up in surrender, Won't happen again.

A derisive snort erupts from the boy on the floor across from you. Right, Henderson. You'd forgotten he was there. And unfortunately, he'd been watching the entire non-verbal exchange with your best friend. He's also annoyingly perceptive.

"Booooo," Dustin cups his hands around his mouth, "Get a room, lovebirds."

You feel your cheeks heat up, and Eddie scoffs.

"I can hardly stand being in a room with you now," he throws cheekily at you.

You breathe a sigh of relief. This is... good. This is safe ground, familiar ground. You honestly aren't sure how you'd react if he was nice to you again.

"I'd leave right now if this wasn't my house," you hide a smile on the edge of your solo cup.

Now it's Dustin's turn to scoff.

"Oh please, Eddie, you never shut up about her! It's getting really annoying. You two should do us all a favor and just do it already-"

Eddie sets his drink down and moves so quickly to put Dustin in a headlock, the kid doesn't even have a chance to react.

They wrestle childishly for a minute or two, rolling around carelessly, knocking into people and furniture alike. You watch on in fake annoyance, only interjecting to berate them for bumping into your parents favorite lamp.

Eddie releases Dustin with a huff, having successfully pinned the freshman, and throws his hands over his head victoriously.

"Congrats, Eds. You physically dominated a twelve year old. We're all so proud."

Dustin sputters incredulously, something along the lines of I'm fifteen, actually.

You giggle at that, and Eddie settles back into your side. This time, much to your displeasure and excitement, he throws his arm around your shoulders. He's touchy in general, and for all your catfighting, you're no stranger to being tucked into his side like this. But today, with your light buzz and fuzzy emotions, it feels more intimate. More dangerous.

His fingers trace absentminded circles on your upper arm, and you shudder lightly at his touch. You should throw his arm off of you, but can't bring yourself to. Not when it feels so right.

Dustin picks himself up off the floor and dusts himself off with a huff.

"Eddie's just mad because he knows I'm right. There's too much sexual tension," he says, his bruised ego shining through. Damn, that kid always sounds like such a know-it-all. It's just his tone.

Your best friend leans in close, his lips lightly brushing the shell of your ear, and your breath involuntarily catches in your throat.

"Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart," he whispers loudly, then leans back with a toothy grin.

You curse the way your stomach drops at his statement. His mixed signals are driving you crazy. He still has his arm wrapped around you, but he basically just rejected you, basically said he would never even think about you in that way.

But this, this is normal, isn't it? Exactly what you asked for? This is how you guys are, he's an asshole to you, you're an asshole to him, why should your feelings be hurt, you never let it hurt, you won't let yourself get hurt.

The boys wander to a different topic, something about how lame the graduation ceremony was this year, completely oblivious to the internal riot happening in your head.

Not even in your wildest dreams, sweetheart. What the fuck did he mean by that? It's not like you were banging down his door or anything, you never even thought- I mean, yeah, fuck, ok maybe you thought about fucking him all the time, any way he would have you, but it's not like he knows that, and God did he have to say it like you were so fucking unappealing, like even the thought of being with you was some big fucking joke-

You shake your head violently, willing the physical action to clear your mind. Like an etch-a-sketch, you think blearily.

Yeah, you're definitely done with alcohol for the night.

Eddie's eyes drift back over to you at the sudden movement. His dimples fade away, the lazily content look on his face morphing into one of genuine concern.

"Hey, you ok?" he asks so earnestly it makes hot tears prickle behind your eyes.

Now he's being too nice again, and you can't handle it. It's just all too fucking confusing, his arm around your shoulder suddenly feels too restricting, too mocking.

Jesus, you need to get yourself together before you respond. The phrase I'm fine dies on the tip of your tongue. Ok, just don't say anything revealing, don't say anything at all actually, just don't say anything-

"Am I really that repulsive?" you spit, not meaning to let so much vitriol drip into your words. The plastic cup creaks in your hand, and you release the tension in your fist. You didn't even realize you'd been squeezing it so hard. Fuck, chill out, you're both just kidding around, he didn't mean to poke the one raw nerve you've been hiding from him.

Confusion flashes across his face. You never react like this to his teasing.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Munson, you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid."

The party is still going strong, but you swear the whole world goes silent in that moment. Maybe it's all the blood rushing to your ears, or the lack of a standard sarcastic reply from your friend.

You must have said that much louder than you intended, because now everyone in the living room is trying very hard to pretend they're not listening to your conversation.

Your mind flashes back to that moment in third grade, right after Eddie hit the ground. That achingly long, silent moment after you'd knocked him down, when you were waiting for him to say something, anything, and then he started laughing.

C'mon, start laughing.

But this wasn't a childish squabble. There was venom in your words, a tidal wave of repressed emotions and raw anger and lust and hurt, feelings you didn't even have the words for- and Eddie felt it.

His face blushes a deep scarlet, and his arm retracts from your shoulder like it had burned him. You’re itching to pull him back in, to take it back, to apologize, to explain that you were just kidding, but you're frozen.

"'M gonna get some air," He stands up swiftly, not making eye contact with you.

"Eds, wait-" You reach out for him, trying to grab his arm. He slips easily from your grasp and shoves his way through the mass of partygoers, disappearing into the hallway.

Well, that could have gone better.

"Shit," you mutter, slumping back into the couch. This is exactly why you'd been avoiding him in the first place- so you wouldn't stick your foot in your mouth.

When you glance up from your wound-licking, everyone's eyes dart away from you, avoiding your gaze.

Real nice, guys.

Dustin must feel guilty for instigating your outburst, because he stands up from his spot on the floor and takes point on damage control.

"Alright, show's over everyone. Go get another drink or something," he announces to the room, waving everyone away. He plops down on the couch and awkwardly puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Sorry about them. We're just not used to Mom and Dad fighting,"

You laugh bitterly at the epithet the freshmen class had dubbed you. While it normally makes you secretly giddy to hear the kids refer to you and Eddie as such, you're not ready to give up on wallowing in your own self-pity.

"We fight literally all the time."

"No, you don't," he says matter-of-factly, "You never really get mad at Eddie. And I can't even imagine him being mad at you. What you actually do," he pauses, "is convoluted flirting."

You let out a groan. Is it really that obvious to everyone how you feel about him? You must not have been hiding it as well as you thought. That's so humiliating. And if everyone knows... that means Eddie must know too. Despite what you just yelled at him, he's not a stupid guy.

He must have figured it out. No wonder he's been so weird to you the last few months. It must be what... pity?

Oh my God. He's been so nice lately because he feels bad for you.

That's almost worse than him not liking you back.

"Christ, Henderson," you try denying, a transparent last ditch effort to cover up your feelings, "you have no idea what you're talking-"

"Are you dicking me around? You're fully dicking me around right now," he states incredulously, "You. Are. Into him."

Denial isn't going to work on the kid. He's too goddamn observant for that.

Hearing your feelings out loud like that, even if it isn't you saying it, sends a shot of anxiety through your stomach. Normally you'd dissent and evade the topic, but that hasn't exactly been working out for you tonight. And if everyone knows already, fuck it. 

You decide to give honesty a try.

"It doesn't matter, ok? Eddie doesn't... see me like that," you concede.

"Have you ever, I don't know, asked him?" He questions, his voice tipping right on the edge of condescending.

"... No."

Dustin pats your arm sympathetically, as if he's soothing a petulant child rather than someone five years older than him.

"Well, that seems like the place to start."

Still pouting, you shake your head.

"Why would I do that, Dustin? Just for him to reject me? It'll ruin what we have," you sulk and look down at your hands. The whole incident with Eddie sobered you up immediately, making the foamy cup of beer you're clutching look extremely appealing right about now. Moving the cup to your lips, you start to gulp it down. Dustin, clearly fed up with your self-indulgent wallowing, stands up and snatches the cup away from you.

"Hey!"

He holds the cup out of your clawing reach, and speaks at you loudly, in that sanctimonious tone he uses when he thinks he knows better than someone.

"You may be too stubborn to see it, but you're both so into each other it makes me sick!"

You're not even listening to him anymore. You're so frustrated at how this conversation is going, with how your whole night is going. Jesus Christ this kid is a total fucking headache! First he causes your fight with Eddie, then he totally embarrasses you by making you admit your crush, and now he's snatching shit from you? All of the misdirected irritation you've felt building since earlier balls up in your stomach, threatening to break out. Malicious words start to form in your mouth, preparing to absolutely rip him a new one. What a self righteous little-

Pause.

His sentence finally registers in your brain.

Both? You're both so into each other?

All the anger you felt dissipates in a split second. Both. Meaning, you and Eddie. Feeling the same way.

No, there's no way. It had to be a figure of speech, or a slip of the tongue. The part of you desperate to protect yourself retains there's no way that's what Dustin meant, but a cautiously hopeful warmth spreads through your chest all the same.

"He- when you say both- do you mean he also..."

Dustin cuts you off with an exasperated sigh of your name.

"Just go talk to him."

You've been doing laps around your house for nearly twenty minutes in search of your best friend. Everyone is 100% annoyed with you by now. You'd asked all your friends at least twice if they'd seen him, and only got back half-hearted shrugs and variations on "I don't know, we thought he was with you."

He has to still be here. His shoes are still by the door, and Gareth assured you that Eddie's van is still parked outside.

He wasn't on the back porch with the smokers, or in the kitchen, or in the basement with the other type of smokers. You tried checking your bedroom, but the door was locked, and from the outside you could hear multiple voices making some very emphatic sounds. Mental note- bleach literally everything in your room tomorrow.

Wouldn't it be a real cosmic gut-punch if that was Eddie in there with someone? a jealous voice in your head croons. You roughly push the thought down.

The only place left to check is the upstairs bathroom. When you reach the door you notice the light is on inside, yellow light leaking from the doorframe.

You move your hand up to knock, and waver momentarily. Your hand is still poised to rap on the door. Maybe it's not Eddie in there, you consider. Maybe it's just someone who had a few too many, and you're about to bother some poor soul hugging the toilet bowl.

Yeah, that's perfect. It won't be him. He definitely just left his van behind, walked home without shoes, and you can both take the night to cool off. You won't have to confess anything tonight. You'll call him tomorrow, apologize for being a dick, and pray he doesn't hang up on you. Everything will go back to normal.

Clinging to your false hope, you tentatively knock on the door.

"Ocupado," a muffled voice bleeds from the other side of the door.

Eddie.

Of course. You wouldn't be that lucky.

You steel yourself for whatever lies ahead, and turn the knob. Part of you prays it won't open, that he miraculously shed his bad habit of forgetting to lock bathroom doors. But the knob rotates without resistance.

No going back now. You swing the door open and shut it behind you swiftly. The sounds of music and laughter muffles abruptly as the door closes. Sitting hunched over on the edge of the tub is your best friend, his head sheltered in his hands.

"Holy shit, occupied!" He raises his head to rail at the intruder, "What part of- oh," he cuts himself off abruptly when his eyes land on you.

He stares at you intently, his jaw ticking from how hard he's clenching it. Both of you are waiting for the other to speak, neither one wanting to break the silence first. You squirm under his piercing gaze and lower your head to peer at the floor.

"The, uh, door was open," you mumble after a while.

"Jesus Christ, what if I was taking a shit or something?" he hisses.

Normally you'd wrinkle up your nose and call him gross, or admonish him for not locking the door, but you don't have the energy for that right now. You lean back against the door for support and cross your arms over your chest. He still refuses to break eye contact with you.

"... Sorry."

More silence.

"Well?" he asks pointedly. He looks pissed, more pissed than you've ever seen him, "What's so fucking important that you had to bust in here?"

His tone reignites the swell of anger in your stomach. Normally he's the funny kind of asshole, but right now he sounds like a total prick. You can't believe you were really coming in here to apologize and confess your feelings to him.

"I'll just go," you snap. You turn around to leave, gripping the door knob tightly, "This was a mistake."

You barely manage to crack the door open before Eddie appears behind you, reaching over your shoulder to close it firmly. He's boxing you against the door, his breath fanning over your neck. Against your better judgment, you register a dull throb between your legs at the position he has you in.

He reaches down to lock the door this time, still caging you in, a silent demand that you don't run away from this conversation. You swallow audibly.

He's not going to let you avoid him any longer.

Eddie lingers behind you a moment before retreating again, allowing you space to turn around and face him. His brown eyes, normally soft and jovial, are squinted in irritation. His broad shoulders shake lightly, with hurt or anger you can't be sure.

You take a deep breath and prepare to apologize for earlier, but he cuts you off before you even begin.

"What the hell is your problem tonight?"

He raises his eyebrow at you, impatiently waiting for your response.

Lie, the cowardly voice in your head says. Dustin was just jerking you around, you're going to ruin everything. Lie lie lie, you can't let him know how you really feel.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you say coolly.

"Really?" he crosses his arms and pouts, mocking your closed off stance.

"I don't-"

Eddie cuts you off before you can double down.

"I'm nice to you, and you tell me to fuck off. I'm mean, and you lose your shit. I'm walking on goddamn eggshells over here, so pick one, because you can't have both."

He finishes his monologue, his breath coming out in short puffs.

Oh my God, you think, I must seem literally crazy right now.

It sucks to have your own behavior laid out so plainly like this, to be confronted with how your actions are hurting him.

You can't even get defensive, because the worst part is, he's right. You were mad at him for sending mixed signals, but you're the one who's been avoiding him for weeks and embarrassing him in the middle of a party. And now you're flipflopping so fast he can't even keep up.

In all your self-absorbed uncertainty, you never stopped to consider how confusing you must be to him right now.

You don't answer him fast enough.

"Just tell me what you want from me!" he begs.

"I just- I want-" you start and stop several different sentences, but can't find the end of any of them. You sigh raggedly and tilt your head up towards the ceiling, harshly blinking against the frustrated tears beginning to bead up in your eyes.

You can feel him inching closer to you. When he speaks, his voice comes out gentle, low, almost... hurt?

"Do you want me to be nice to you or not?" he implores, "I'll be mean if you want mean. Whatever you want, sweetheart, I'll do it. You just have to tell me."

"I... Both. Neither?"

He huffs at that, rolling his eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

You think you're confused, buddy? Try living inside my brain.

He's not getting anywhere with this line of questioning. He tries approaching from a different angle this time.

"You've been avoiding me," he states. It's not a question.

"... Yeah." you admit carefully.

He purses his mouth tight and nods. You'd only confirmed what he already knew, what you'd both been dancing around all night.

"Did I do something wrong?"

No, you shake your head tearfully.

"Do you want me to," he sighs, "give you some space, or whatever?"

"No!" you exclaim. The thought makes you panic, a single teardrop finally spilling over your lash line, "Fuck, God no, that's not- I mean, I thought I did but- that's not what this is about."

Eddie's curses under his breath, growing tired of playing twenty questions.

"Then what is it about?"

"I-" like you, you idiot, "It's just.. I can't- God! Fuck, I can't!" you groan dramatically and bury your head in your hands.

Why is it so hard to just say Munson, I want you? It's just Eddie. Drug-dealing, music-snobby, ridiculous, overdramatic, forgetful... 

Caring, funny, thoughtful, loyal, beautiful Eddie Munson who you don't want to lose forever all because you have a stupid crush on him.

He crosses the chasm between you hesitantly. Grabbing both your wrists, he removes them from your face, replacing them with his own. He cradles your face tenderly, like you could shatter under the weight of his hands, and uses a thumb to swipe away the tear on your cheek.

He breathes your name gently, and you glance up at him through your lashes.

"Please, just... tell me what you want," he whispers. His face is so close to yours, every freckle and hair visible in perfect clarity. His eyes dart around your face intently for an answer.

What do you want? He wants you to choose what you want?

Fuck this, you choose. You choose fuck this- fuck how beautiful he looks right now, fuck how him touching you like this makes your heart flutter, fuck how badly you wish you could drop all the stupid pretense and tell him that I need you to be mean to me because otherwise, I'm gonna admit I like you!

"I like you," you blurt.

Fuck.

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up at your declaration. His hands fall from your face as he backs up a bit, and you want to scream. You actually might scream, he looks so freaked out.

"You... like me?"

Fuck.

"Yes," you repeat. You're fighting to seem confident, like that will quell the pit of fear in your stomach, will lessen the wave of humiliation threatening to drown you. His eyes open impossibly wider, an indiscernible expression on his face.

You backtrack quickly, "No. No! I'm so sorry, of course not! You know what? I take it back. I didn't mean it, I was just kidding! Just please, please forget I ever said anything, ok?"

He shakes his head and points a finger at you as you ramble.

"Nooooooo. You said," a mischievous smile spreads across his face, his voice sing-songy and teasing, "You like me. Like, like me like me. Like, you want me."

Of course he's letting this go to his head. You told him you like him and now he's laughing at you. The last thing you can handle right now is him making fun of you when you're at your most vulnerable.

"Well, if you're gonna be a fucking dick about it-" you shoot your hand out once more to reach for the door. Eddie blows out a sharp breath and pulls your arm towards him, maneuvering you to face him with your back pressed against the sink.

"Sorrysorrysorry, I’m sorry! Will you stop trying to run away from me? It's getting annoying," he says, not at all unkindly. He still has that wide smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling up in amusement.

Your face is still radiating heat. Your breath comes out in sharp pants. One of Eddie's hands moves to your hip, the other attempting to lift your chin upwards. You move your head out of his grasp.

He says your name again, vying for your attention.

"Would you just look at me," he jostles your hip playfully, "Please? You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You shake your head at the ground. Now he's trying to cheer you up when you totally just ruined your friendship? This is so fucking humiliating, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

His head rolls completely around, face-framing curls flopping in his face. His whole body tilts to the side in a dramatic display. 

And in that moment, Eddie makes a decision- you just admitted something, and now it's his turn.

"Does it really make me look stupid?" he asks, tightening the grip on your hip, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him.

You finally raise your gaze to his.

"I- what?" you blink dumbly up at him.

He quickly drags you in even closer, until there’s no space between you at all. Your hands fly up for balance, landing squarely on his broad chest.

"You said earlier, it makes me look stupid," he swallows, "How badly I want to fuck you."

You must have passed out from sheer embarrassment. That’s the only explanation for what’s happening right now- you’d knocked yourself out in humiliation, and now you’re laying on the bathroom floor, dreaming. Because there’s no way Eddie actually just admitted to wanting you, no way he’s holding you this tightly against him, and no way he’s licking his lips as his eyes dart down to your mouth.

"What..." you repeat dazedly.

His head dips down at an aching crawl, like he’s giving you the chance to push him away.

"I thought it was kind of obvious,” he chuckles, “But I like you too, sweetheart. Always have,” a boyish, vulnerable smile flashes across his face.

Instantly a tidal wave of relief floods your body. Your sigh fans across his face, still so close to your own. You didn’t ruin anything. He likes you back. 

Eddie likes you.

“We can talk about what this means later,” he murmurs intimately, one thumb stroking your hip, “But right now I really need to kiss you, so just… tell me to stop."

You don’t stop him. His plush lips brush yours briefly, chastely. Tingles spark where his mouth presses to yours, and now you know it’s not a dream. None of your dreams have ever felt this electric.

When he goes to pull away, you don’t let him. You grasp his face with both hands and pull him hungrily into you, kissing him again- harder this time, more insistent. His mouth parts under the pressure, and he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. You give him entrance immediately, and you both let out a soft moan at the feeling of his tongue massaging against yours.

It’s unreal- absolutely unreal how good he is at this. When you used to hang out alone, he would always divulge the details of his latest hookup- which cheerleader is actually freaky, which Corroded Coffin groupie cornered him at a venue. You would laugh when he proclaimed himself a sex god (of course, you’d also be secretly jealous of whichever girl he was hooking up with). But you never thought he was actually as good as he claimed, you thought he was exaggerating out of male-pride. Now you can't believe you’d wasted so much time not kissing your best friend.

A giggle rumbles up from your chest.

Oh my God, you think giddily, I’m kissing Eddie. My best friend Eddie.

He pulls away reluctantly with a final quick peck, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his.

“What?” he smirks down at you, with an expression that can only be described as adoration, “What’s got you all giggly, baby?” his hands brush comfortingly up and down your arm.

You snort again at the pet name, your heart swelling and your head lighter than air.

“You,” you ball up his shirt in your grasp and yank him back down to you, “Just you.”

He reattaches himself to your lips, resuming his worship of your mouth. Your arms slide up from his chest to clasp around the back of his neck, and you kiss him harder. One hand reaches up into the curly hair tied up behind his head, and gives an experimental tug. He rewards you with a short gasp. His tongue swipes against the roof of your mouth, almost like he’s trying to tickle you, and you giggle again. 

Kissing him is really, really hot. Ridiculously, leg shakingly, earth-shatteringly hot. 

It’s also full of silly moments. You’re both teasing and prodding at the other, trying to get the other to laugh into the kiss. But you’re also both gasping and panting, holding onto each other with all your strength, growing more and more turned on.

“You know what’s weird?” he says into your mouth.

“Hmm?”

“This doesn’t feel weird. Like, at all,” he squeezes your hips. You give his hair another gentle tug in response.

He’s right- even when you imagined what this moment could be like, there was always the underlying fear that it wouldn’t work, that you and Eddie together would be too awkward. But this is so you- so perfect.

You kiss like that for what feels like forever, taking time to explore each other. Eddie paws at whatever he can reach, the curve of your ass, the plush of your thighs, the divots of your spine.

As the kiss grows more and more heated, the silly teasing dies down. The hands wandering your body grow rougher, more frantically grabbing at you. Your underwear starts to dampen uncomfortably. Something hard and warm presses against your stomach. You’re aching to find out what.

He disconnects from you again, and you pout.

“Hop up for me?” he taps twice at your hip bone.

With his help, you brace yourself on the counter and haul yourself backwards to sit on the edge of the sink. 

“Good girl,” he praises, sharp canines flashing at you roguishly.

Your cheeks heat up at the endearment. Good girl. You’re his good girl. Fuck, that sounds so good coming out of his mouth. You cover your face with your hands and let out an embarrassed whine.

“Oh my God,” he snickers, “I so knew you’d be into that.”

“Shut up,” one hand shoots out to shove at his shoulder. He catches it and presses a mockingly apologetic smooch into your wrist. “Kiss me again.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. Two ring-clad hands grip your legs and spread them wide, an open invitation for Eddie to stand between them. He accepts graciously. Now that he has better access, he tilts your head backwards and leans down to mouth at the spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

Eddie works up and down your throat, pressing bruising kisses into the sensitive skin there. Your hands wander his body as he works, shakily pushing hair from his face, grasping his taut biceps, clutching his ass.

“So good for me,” he mumbles.

You gasp when he sucks and nips one spot particularly roughly, then soothes it with his tongue. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register that you’ll have crazy hickeys blooming tomorrow, bruises that everyone else will definitely tease you for. But you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Eddie decorated you with them so lovingly.

His hips slowly start to grind into yours, stuttering against your warm, still clothed center.

“Just let me know if you want to slow down,” his words say one thing, but the desperate way he ruts in between your parted thighs says another.

“I’m good,” You shake your head vigorously. You’re burning to keep going. You’ve waited so long to have him touch you, love you, worship you like he’s doing right now. You’re ready for whatever he’s willing to give you, “I wanna keep going. Please.”

“Fuck. Yeah, ok,” he stifles a groan at the desperation in your voice. Lithe fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt to splay against your stomach. His fingertips twirl intricate patterns on your skin, and you shiver at the temperature difference between his hands and the cool metal of his rings. 

With your permission he tugs your shirt upwards and over your head, tossing it on the floor behind him. Silently, you thank your earlier self for putting on your cute bra today.

“Is this ok?” he checks in with you, keeping his hands to himself with great difficulty. His eyes rake over you hungrily.

In answer, you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, tossing it over Eddie’s shoulder.

You lean back on your palms, pushing your chest out as confidently as you can. His eyes bug out of his head the moment you’re half naked, and it’s a shot straight to your ego.

“Holy shit, babe,” he reaches out greedily to grasp at your chest, palming both, pushing them together and then letting them drop into his hands, “Did you know you’re really fuckin’ hot?” he tweaks both nipples in his hands, grinning as they perk up under his touch.

You squirm under his praise.

“Oh, you’re shy again, huh?” he smirks, and dips down to catch the peak of your breast in his mouth. One hand flies shakily to his hair as he nuzzles at you, cradling him tightly to your sternum.

He pulls away from you with a pop, then switches to the other side. His tongue slides over your nipple lasciviously, the tantalizingly wet sound of spit on skin reaches your ears. A soft moan leaves him as he rolls the sensitive bud between his lips. 

The gentle scrape of his teeth is what breaks you.

“Fuck, Eds,” a sound embarrassingly close to a whine escapes your throat.

“Shit, baby, you sound even better than I imagined,” he mumbles against the skin of your chest.

You feel an impossible amount of wetness spreading between your thighs at his admission. He’s thought about this- the mental image of Eddie alone in his trailer, hand palming his cock roughly, getting himself off to the imagined sounds of you moaning- it’s almost too much for you to handle.

“You imagined this?” you ask breathlessly.

He looks up and scoffs, making a face that says, are you kidding me?

“Only every night since I hit puberty,” he ducks back down to suck a mark into your collar bone.

Your head is spinning. Eddie’s lips are on you, his hard cock is nuzzled against your thigh, his soft pants and curses are all because he’s touching you. This all feels unreal, and you’re desperate for more of his skin to be exposed to you.

“Your turn?” you hum, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

He disconnects from your skin with a pop and grins wolfishly at you. He reaches behind his head and pulls off his t-shirt in one fluid motion, turning at the waist to toss it into the steadily growing pile of discarded clothes.

You should be focusing on his pale taut chest, the curve of his collarbone, his bare arms flexing underneath his tattoos, the sparse trail of hair on his stomach disappearing into the waistband of his boxers- but you can’t.

Your eyes fall to his ribs immediately, to the crisscross of bite marks and scar tissue lacing his sides. You knew he’d been injured saving the world, but you’d never seen how bad it was.

He rushes back into you, eager to reattach his lips to your skin, but you hold him at arm's length. You can’t take your eyes off his healed wounds.

You must look as concerned as you feel, because he's quick to brush you off.

"It looks worse than it is," he tells you humbly, grabbing one of your wrists and pressing it to his side, inviting you to gently brush against the battle-marred skin.

Fuck, it's so easy to forget how close you were to losing him. How he could've been gone, and you wouldn't have had the chance to tell him how you really feel. The last thing you said to him would have been some dumb, meaningless quip. The thought makes you lightheaded, your breath coming in short puffs.

"Hey," he lowers his head to your level, purposefully holding eye contact with you, "I'm okay. I’m not going anywhere, I promise."

You nod erratically, pressing your hands more firmly into his sides. His heart beat flutters through his ribs against your palms. Steady. A bit elevated. 

Perseverant.

"Yeah, I know. I know, I was just thinking," you clear your throat against a voice crack, "That you look pretty metal."

“Yeah?” his face splits into a wide grin.

“Yeah. Metal as hell, Munson,” you lovingly caress the wounds on his side once more.

He pulls you into a heartbreaking kiss. Not as lustful as earlier, softer, yet more insistent. Full of heart and hope and love, and the unmistakable feeling of being alive.

The kiss quickly grows deeper and more desperate, his tongue dragging headily against the roof of your mouth. Your back arches into him when he bites at your lower lip. You both pant into each other's mouths, the press of your nipples against his chest sending shivers down your spine.

Your mouth reaches for his neck, and you mimic his earlier ministrations on you- licking a long wet stripe up his neck, suckling bruises into the hot spot right below his blushed ear. His hips give a weak stutter when your teeth catch his earlobe, and you swear his eyes cross.

“I so knew you’d be into that,” you repeat his tease from earlier, and nibble gently on the shell of his ear.

He presses into you impossibly closer, and what can only be described as a whimper falls from his lips when you leave a love bite on the crux of his jaw.

“Can I touch you now,” he sighs, “Please?”

Mmhmm, you nod eagerly. Equal parts of excitement, arousal and anxiety course through your veins- you’ve waited for this for so long, and now that it’s finally happening, it’s a tad nerve-wracking.

His hands fumble with the button of your jeans, and he glances quickly up at you with a look equally nervous and elated. You’re relieved to know he feels just as nervous as you do. It sets you at ease. Eddie always makes you feel better, even when he isn’t trying.

He pushes and paws at the fabric until it passes over the curve of your ass. You lift your hips off the counter, allowing him enough room to peel the denim off you and drop it to the floor. His eyes glaze over when he turns his gaze back to you.

You sit before him, lips kiss-swollen, chest heaving, completely naked except for a pair of tiny black of panties.

Eddie’s sanity has left the building.

“How are you even real,” he groans, more to himself than to you.

One shaking hand deposits itself on the crease between your thigh and your waiting center. You hum with need. The hand on your thigh peruses you lightly, testingly. You’d expected him to dive right in, to rip off your underwear and go to town, but he doesn’t. He draws it out, building up the anticipation.

His thumb brushes a line across your damp underwear with a smile.

“That’s cute,” he crinkles his nose when you jolt at the sensation of his thumb catching your clit. He goes back to touching everywhere but that electric spot, teasing and rubbing around it, his finger exploring you through the fabric.

“What is?” you shiver, fighting the urge to take his hand and push it back to where you ache for it most.

“How wet you are for me already,” His finger slides shallowly underneath the elastic, just barely ghosting across the sensitive skin. He raises the band of your underwear and lets it go with a snap. You jump slightly at the stinging sensation.

“Eddie!” you yelp, “Stop teasing, you’re being-”

“Mean?”

You huff a small laugh. At first, you think he’s joking. But a mischievous glimmer flashes across his eyes, and then he’s hardening his expression.

His thumb returns to your clit, and you nearly sob in gratitude until you feel how soft he’s being- just barely grazing the nub with each half circle. 

“But I thought,” he leans down and gnaws a gentle bite into your pulse point, “You wanted me to be mean?”

You shake your head desperately.

"No? So what, sweetheart" he says in between nips at your neck, "You gonna let me be nice to you now?"

His thumb circles faster, still only applying the faintest hint of pressure through the soaked fabric. You attempt to grind your hips up into his hand, but he holds your hip down flush against the counter, only allowing you to take as much as he wants to give you.

"I get to say all the nice things I've wanted to say?" he whispers against the shell of your ear. You mumble under your breath, unable to form a proper response. Eddie stills his hand completely.

You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Yes, God, whatever you want, just please, please touch me,” desperation leaks into your voice.

Eddie smiles against the side of your throat and yanks your panties down to hang off one ankle.

“Well, because you asked so nicely,” he swipes two fingers through your folds without further delay.

Your breath catches in your throat as two of his fingers circle your entrance, collecting the wetness that pools there. Fireworks flash in your vision. He dips ever so slightly inside of you, then works his hand upwards towards your clit and gives a testing rub. You stutter through a moan.

“Right there?” he strokes more confidently this time.

“Yeah, that’s- yeah,” you sigh, throwing your head back.

“Fuck,” he drops his head to your shoulder, staring at the way his fingers work against you.

He lets you rock your hips into his hand for a while as he strokes you, chasing the growing sensation. It’s like he can read your mind. He knows exactly the amount of pressure and speed you require to be shaking under him. He’s hardly even touched you, but you can feel your orgasm building up, curling around your insides like tendrils of smoke.

You’ve never needed anything more than to touch him back. With unsteady hands, you reach out to unbuckle his belt, shoving his pants half-way down his thighs unceremoniously. Your hand wraps around his dick through his boxers and gives a few squeezes. He bucks into your hands with a moan, his rhythm on your clit faltering.

You whine when he bats your hands away reluctantly.

“Don’t worry about me, pretty girl,” he whispers, refocusing on you, swiping against your bud in a way that has your toes curling, “This one’s all you.”  

His two fingers disappear momentarily, and he shushes you before you can whine again. He replaces it with his thumb, continuing the rhythm you liked before, and trails his index finger down to inch slowly into your waiting entrance. You gasp at the feeling. It’s just one finger, but it’s so long and thick that you can feel yourself stretch around it.

“You have the prettiest pussy baby, Jesus,” he presses an adoring kiss to your shoulder and gawks at the way his fingers thrust inside you, glistening with your slick.

You can’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed.

Chattering voices pause outside the doorway, and you fight to still yourself, even as Eddie’s fingers work against you, inside you. 

You’re suddenly very aware that he’s fingerfucking you in a bathroom, in the middle of a party, with all your friends just downstairs.

He adds another finger without warning, and you have to slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a moan. Eddie turns his ear towards the door, gauging the distance of the people outside, never pausing the rough drag of his fingers against your walls. His free hand raises to his lips, one finger against his smirking mouth in a hush gesture.

He pulls the tips of his fingers forward in a come-hither motion, rubbing deliciously against the spot inside you that you can never reach with your own hands. Luckily at the exact moment a loud whimper leaves you, whoever’s outside erupts into obnoxious laughter.

You both pause and turn to the door, waiting to make sure no one heard you moan. After what feels like an eternity, the voices in the hallway fade away, the sounds of footsteps thunder down the stairs.

Eddie drops his forehead to your shoulder once more, and redoubles his efforts, thrusting his fingers harder into you, the thumb circling your clit nearing on vicious.

“That was a close one, babe,” he teases, “almost got caught.”

You can feel your bottom half tightening, and your pussy starts to flutter around his hand. Eddie smiles and circles his thumb around, hitting from a new angle, and you’re about to combust.

"I ha-have a room, you know," you gasp through your fingers, your legs start to shake around him.

Eddie shakes his head vigorously into the crook of your neck.

"Nancy, Steve, an' Jonathan are using it."

Well, file that away to ask about later.

“Guess you have to try and keep quiet,” he leans up to kiss you, silencing your growing pants with his mouth.

You whimper against his lips, the hip held in his grip thrashes upwards into his hand, and he holds you steady through it. Your hole squeezes his fingers rhythmically, warning him of your impending orgasm.

“Shit baby, you gonna cum for me already?” he asks incredulously. Color stains high in his cheeks, and he looks so proud of himself, so proud of you.

You nod pathetically.

“Such a good girl,” he simpers.

The rubber band in your stomach tightens impossibly, threatening to snap. His fingers move inside you once, twice, and you’re gone.

“Eds- Eddie, I-” you lean back and come around his fingers with a broken moan. 

It’s like a wildfire, ripping through your whole body without abandon.You don’t care how loud you are, because the only thing that exists right now is Eddie- his hands, his mouth, his panting. You clutch his arm roughly, your nails leaving half-moon impressions in his flesh. He works you through it gently, lovingly pumping his fingers inside you until you have to push his thumb off your clit, shivering from overstimulation.

You catch his lips again in a sloppy, sated kiss.

“That was… wow,” you lean back, resting your cheek against the cold bathroom mirror.

It was much more than “wow”. That was better than you ever dared to hope. If you knew this would happen tonight, that your feelings would be returned, that Eddie would be smiling down at you after giving you one of the best orgasms of your life, you would have walked in on him in the bathroom ages ago.

“Very wow,” He smiles slyly and slips his fingers wetly out of you. 

The cool glass of the mirror against your cheek is a welcome contrast to the hot drag of his fingers leaving you. Your breath still comes out in heavy pants, recovering from your climax. Even as you come down, you still feel that spark inside your gut, that need for him.

Eddie leans across your naked torso to plant a kiss on your cheek, and he nuzzles his nose into your hair.

“Do you wanna stop?” he whispers into the side of your head.

Hmm? You murmur, your brain still fuzzy from the orgasm he just gave you.

“We can stop here, if you want,” he kisses your forehead, “Go back to the party, or just talk?”

You glance down at the erection clearly visible in his boxers- at some point when he was fingering you, he must have shoved off his ripped jeans completely. His chest is flushed completely, heaving silently, and you can tell how turned on he is. He’s straining against his waistband with arousal, and he’s still thinking about your comfort first.

“No!” you lean forward, and brush a finger across the front of his boxers. He shivers at the faint touch, “No, I wanna… wanna keep going.”

His hands tighten against the edge of the counter, his knuckles blanching from the pressure.

“Yeah?” his nearly growls, eyes darkening at the prospect.

“Yeah,” you smile coquettishly, “I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes roll back into his head and shut tight, almost as if he’s saying a quick prayer.

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” he kisses you again fervently, like he’s a man dying of thirst and you’re the last sip of cold water.

His hips slot between yours again, grinding intentionally this time. You exhale a moan as the tip of his cock nudges your oversensitive clit through the fabric. Your wetness spreads around the front of his boxers messily, and you’re about to tear them off him-

"Fuck, shit!" Eddie rips himself away from you without warning, leaving you cold and exposed on the counter, "Shit shit shit," he mumbles. A spike of anxiety rips through you.

"What? What's wrong?"

Eddie drops to his knees on the ground, grabbing his discarded jeans off the floor and digging through the pockets fervently. You nervously cross your arms over your bare chest, watching as he tosses the pants back down. He sighs heavily, not having found what he was looking for.

He rises up and moves to the cabinet above the toilet. Swinging the hinge open, he rifles through your toiletries, cursing under his breath the whole time. He's still in just his underwear. The sight would be comical if this display wasn't making you so nervous.

"Eds, what are you-"

"I don't have a condom. Shit!" he interrupts with his back to you, still shoving through your belongings frantically.

"Eddie-"

"You don't have some down there, do you?" he turns around, points to the cabinet underneath the sink and advances forward to squat in front of you. He grabs both your ankles with one hand and holds them to the side, placing a distracted kiss on your knee before reaching to rummage in the drawers under you.

"Do I keep condoms in the bathroom my mother cleans?" you snort, your legs flexing in his grip, "No."

"Fuck. How about plastic wrap?" he punctuates each suggestion with the slam of a drawer, "Ziploc bag?" slam, "A really thick sock?" slam.

"Eddie, stop," you giggle and grab his face between your hands, stilling his restless body. He stares up at you through his lashes, breathing hard, and trails his hands up from your ankles to grip your thighs.

"It's okay," you reassure him, "I'm on the pill. So, if you want to- I mean I really want you to- ya' know..." you trail off.

He exhales unsteadily.

"You want me to come inside you?"

Your chest tightens with slight embarrassment. Hopefully that doesn't freak him out, but yes. You can't think of anything besides Eddie fucking into you with no barrier, feeling every twitch, him spilling so deep inside you that you can feel it for days after.

You nod at him, tight lipped.

His forehead drops to your thigh and he lets out another shaky breath. You wiggle impatiently on your tailbone, waiting for him to respond. He settles his shoulders decisively, and you're almost worried he's about to turn you down. Instead he lunges up and catches your lips in a bruising kiss.

"This is my fuckin' wet dream, I swear," he yanks your hips to the very edge of the counter. He kisses you again, all tongues and teeth, and his underwear disappears in an instant. 

You’re floored. Like, your jaw is dropped, absolutely flabbergasted- and that’s not a word you throw around lightly.

“Holy shit,” you pull away to stare at him, completely naked and aching before you.

“Impressive, right?” he waggles his eyebrows at you, “Do I live up to your imagination?”

Impressive is definitely the right word. You’d felt him earlier, just briefly, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him. He easily has the nicest dick you’ve ever seen. It’s fucking pretty- a trail of dark hair leading mouth-wateringly down, blushed as red as the rest of him, and leaking pearly drops of arousal at the tip. 

It’s also way bigger than you anticipated. Like, I don’t know if it’ll fit bigger. Your eyes widen with slight anxiety.

I have no idea where the fuck you think you’re putting that, buddy.

“I mean, yeah. Better than imagination. But- uh…” you swallow. He has to know how intimidating this is.

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine, baby,” he drops the smug act and cups your face, “I’ll go slow, ok? Just let me know if I need to stop.”

With one final glance down at his throbbing cock, you give a sharp nod.

“Yeah, ok,” you steel yourself and brace against the counter as he grabs himself with one hand, giving a few short pumps before lining himself up with you.

The stretch you feel around just the tip of his cock is insane. He’d already worked you open with an orgasm around his thick fingers, and you’re drenching both your thighs with your arousal. You’re as prepared as you could possibly be, but this much of his cock inside you already makes you feel full.

“Oh my God,” he groans as he slowly breaches the ring of muscle at your entrance, “You’re so wet baby, Jesus.” You know from previous drunken conversations that Eddie has never had sex without a condom before. It must be taking all his willpower to go slow for your sake.

He moans your name brokenly, just barely inching himself inside you. You desperately want to hear that again.

You wiggle your hips gently and clench around him, anything you can do to get him to moan your name again. He has to shoot his hand to the countertop and grab it ferociously to stop himself from bucking his hips fully into you.

“Not nice, sweetheart,” he growls, “I don’t wanna hurt you. Play nice.”

Your pouting is cut off by a moan when he gently thrusts further into you.

“Fuck- how are you still so- ah- tight?” the hand gripping the counter comes up to clutch at your breast. His grip is just on the edge of painful, and he claws at you like he’s trying to distract himself, to calm himself down. You hope you’ll have finger shaped bruises to stare at in the morning.

You hum and pant, “I think you’re just really… really big.”

He huffs an uneven laugh at that.

He’s only halfway in when you hold him still with your thighs, clenching them tight around his waist and trembling with exertion. It’s not exactly painful, it’s just so much. You need a second before he continues.

You tremble for a few moments, then give him a quick nod, his cue to keep going.

“Good?” he swipes a hand down your arm affectionately.

“I’m good, I’m- I’m good,” to be honest, you could use a few more seconds. But you want him to just fuck you already so bad, you’re willing to endure a bit of pain.

He clicks his tongue in doubt. He’s always read you like a book, and he knows you’re fibbing a bit.

“Relax, sweetheart. Just relax for me, ok?” his hands drops down to your clit and starts to circle gently. You sigh and lean back against the mirror, giving Eddie ample space to bite at your exposed throat and chest.

The new angle, paired with Eddie’s mouth and fingers relaxing you, serves to open you up enough for him to bottom out completely. You both moan when he sinks fully into your heat. 

His hand removes itself startlingly from yours. Your calf comes up to rub against his hip, and you attempt to kiss him, but he’s not looking at you anymore.

Eddie’s eyes are trained straight ahead into the mirror, his brows furrowed deep, his mouth clenched hard. His arms are braced next to your shivering form on the counter, and his whole body is statuesque with tension, except for a slight shake in his shoulders.

“Eddie,” you whisper, “It’s ok, you can move now-”

“No.”

He doesn’t even look at you when he says it. He keeps his eyes trained forward, his brows cinching impossibly tighter. It almost looks like he’s giving himself an internal pep talk in the mirror.

You scoff. It’s sweet that he’s trying not to hurt you, but you’re more than ready.

“Really, I’m ok,” you wiggle your hips around his thick cock, feeling victorious when he exhales sharply, “I want you to-”

His hands grab your hips fiercely, holding you down with all his strength so you can’t bounce down onto him. You pout at him, eager for him to do something, do anything.

“I know. I know, just… give me a second,” he grits out, “Or I’m gonna finish before we even get started.”

Oh.

You hide a proud smile. Your pussy is driving him so crazy he’s about to cum without even moving. It’s ridiculously hot. It’s also something you can tease him for later, but not right now. Right now you lean back on your hands and put space between your bodies, giving him room to calm himself down.

“‘M trying to think about baseball.” he huffs humorously, “But I don’t know anything about baseball.”

You start to grow fidgety as the seconds tick by, waiting for him to move. 

You’re only getting wetter at the feeling of him unmoving inside you, filling you so completely, like he was made to fit right there.

“Eddie, please,” you whine, teasingly clenching around his length, “”S ok. Don’ wanna wait anymore, just please, please fuck me-

He tilts his hips back and then thrusts forward, and he’s finally, finally fucking you.

It's not comfortable. The counter digs into the flesh of your thighs, your panties hang garishly off one ankle, every thrust of Eddie's hips shoves your head into the mirror behind you. 

It's not comfortable, but you hardly even notice because it feels so good.

He thrusts into you, and you lose track of time, lose track of anything besides the feel of him burying himself deeper than you thought possible.

“Oh my God,” you dig your hands into the curly hair at the base of his neck, his hair tie having long since been pulled out. His forehead is flush to yours, and he’s peppering your face with little kisses, a sweet gesture in stark contrast to the filthy way he fucks into you.

“You ha-have no idea how… fuck- long I’ve wanted to do this,” he moans at the feeling of your warmth dragging wetly against him.

“Me too,” you admit breathlessly, “‘S always been you, Eds.”

“Just for me, yeah?” he says with a sharp thrust, “This little pussy is all for me?”

If anyone else had spoken to you like this, you would be beyond embarrassed. But there’s something about the way Eddie spits filth so possessively, so passionately. It makes you burn with need.

“Yes, fuck, all for you, only for you,” you whisper.

You can already feel that tension growing in your stomach again. His hair forms a soft curtain around your face, and he’s the only person in the world right now. His tongue flicks out over his lips as he concentrates, and even as his thrusts grow more desperate, he flashes you the sweetest smile.

Perfect.

One of your hands reaches back down to your aching pussy, to the place where he splits you open. You gingerly caress the place where his cock meets his body and he stutters.

Your hand trails back up to your clit and you start to circle it, chasing the orgasm you can feel squeezing your insides.

He pulls your hand away and replaces it with his own, using his thumb to work toe-curling strokes into your clit in time with his thrusts. Your eyes roll to the ceiling at the sensation, and you’re so close.

Eddie’s close too, you can feel it. His pants and moans grow higher, breathier. The movement of his hips grows frantic and erratic, and he starts to shake. He loses the ability to form sentences, the only coherent words coming out as broken curses and stutters of your name.

The hand that isn’t circling your clit slides up your body and deposits itself over your collarbone.

“Can I…” he hovers his palm over your throat, asking for permission.

“Yes, ohmygod, please,” you lean your neck up into his waiting grasp. He gives a gentle squeeze, never harder than a soft grip. It isn’t about controlling your air. Instead it feels like Eddie having total possession of you- the willingness to place your most vulnerable pieces in his hands for safe keeping.

Eddie nearly cums on the spot when he catches sight of you with your eyes shut tight, moaning his name, with his rings glinting lowly around your throat.

Neither of you are going to last much longer. The hand circling your clit doubles down, and you nearly black out. Full body shivers wrack your body, and Eddie isn’t doing much better- he looks ready to snap.

“You gonna be a good girl and come for me again, baby?” he asks you, lightly squeezing at your throat and bearing down on your clit. 

You nod and whine as his cock nudges against your plush walls, your pussy fluttering around his cock as you come hard.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” both his hands drop to your hips when he feels you coming around him, and he ruts up into the tightness. He gives a full body shake and a final broken little whimper, and then he’s spilling deep inside you.

You’re both panting, chests heaving with your release. You lean back so your shoulders rest against the (now foggy) mirror, and Eddie follows, draping himself over you, cuddling you as best he can in the cramped bathroom.

When he goes to slip out, you stop him with your thighs, keeping his cock still inside you. You’re not quite ready for him to leave your warmth yet. He chuckles lightly and drags you back up to a sitting position. You grumble, but allow him to manipulate you where he wants you. He pulls your arms up to rest around his neck, and his come down to wrap around your waist. You exchange soft breaths, both caught up in what just happened.

“Well, fuck me,” he mumbles after a minute or two, “I was always rooting for us crazy kids to get together,” he tickles lightly at your sides.

You giggle at that, and snort again when his whole body seizes up. Whenever you laugh, you clench around his now-softening, overstimulated length.

“Fuck. I gotta take it out now, sweetheart,” he warns. He slips wetly out of you and slots his mouth over yours to catch the moan falling from your lips. You feel intensely empty, but satiated. Although now, you’re not sure you’ll ever feel whole again without some part of him inside you.

Seconds later, his cum begins to drip out of you. Eddie notices as you stiffen up, eyes dropping to your naked center then back up to your face. Before you have a chance to deal with the mess, he’s dragging your panties from your ankle, up your legs, and hitching them to their rightful place over your ass. He flashes a dastardly smile, very aware that his cum will stay in your underwear, keeping the smeary mess between your thighs. Gross.

Hot.

He leans onto the counter and kisses you easily, lazily as you both come down from your highs.

After a while you part from each other. He offers a gentlemanly hand to help you down onto your shaky legs. 

The pair of you begin to redress in silence. It’s just a tad awkward. Still nice, but the vibe is a bit delicate. You can feel a question lingering in the air- where do we go from here?

“Well, Henderson’s gonna be really smug about this,” Eddie smirks, pulling his underwear and pants up his legs in one easy motion.

You pause halfway into pulling on your shirt over your head, your arms extended upwards, your belly exposed to the muggy bathroom air.

“Dustin talked to you too?” your voice is muffled by the fabric. Eddie laughs at the sight.

“Yeah, he’s the one who convinced me to leave the meeting early tonight. He helped me work up the nerve to tell you how I feel,” he admits.

You finally wrestle your shirt down.

“Oh my God,” you cup the sides of your face in embarrassment, “That kid is a little fucking puppet master! He totally manipulated us into- not manipulated, sorry, that’s not the right word, that makes it seem like I didn’t want to- you know, but I really, really did, I promise,” you ramble on, growing increasingly more flustered, “Ugh, not the point! I’m totally gonna kick his ass!”

“Well, I’m gonna thank him,” Eddie drags you into him and plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, “And then I’m gonna kick his ass.”

You laugh gently at that. Silence settles back over you again, and you back up ever so slightly to cross your arms over your chest. One of Eddie’s hands grabs at his hair and pulls it in front of his face, hiding behind it.

“So, I-”

“Eds-”

You both speak over each other, and giggle again. This kind of awkwardness is new, and sweet, and something you’re excited to explore with him. Your palm slides down his arm and catches his hand in a loose hold.

“You first?” you offer.

He nods and takes a deep breath.

"I went through a lot a few months ago,” he taps the scars on his rib absently, “And maybe it would be easier if we were just friends.”

Your heart sinks at those words. You drop his hand and retreat further. Oh. Maybe you misread everything that just happened. Just… friends. Just friends who hook up? You don’t think you could handle that.

“No, hey, listen. That came out wrong,” he huffs, and grabs both your hands in his once more, “Almost dying from those stupid fucking bats, it made me realize... I don't want ‘easy' with you. I don’t want to be just friends. And I don’t want this to just be a hookup, either.”

You exhale shakily. You’re beyond relieved, but questions still niggle in the back of your mind. Was he worried about that? That you just wanted a hookup?

"This isn't just... I don't want you to think- fuck, why is this so hard?" you groan.

"Yeah, it was pretty hard, huh?" he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up,” you shove lightly at his shoulder, “I’m trying to be vulnerable here!”

He smirks down at you gently.

“Not exactly your forte, sweetheart.”

Once again, he reads you like a book. But if you want to make this work, you have to let him know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how you feel about him. 

Be vulnerable.

Your two index fingers hook into the loops of his belt and pull him into you flirtily. You push yourself up on your tiptoes and bring your face close to his, like you’re about to kiss him.

“I think you should spend the night,” you pull back slightly just before your lips touch his. His face sours jokingly, but he allows you to continue, “And then tomorrow you should take me on a date. And then, you can ask to be my… boyfriend, or whatever.” you make a silly face at the word boyfriend.

His doe-eyes light up, and his teeth bare in the most radiant smile you’ve ever seen.

“Boyfriend, huh? Very official. I like it,” he leans in slowly, achingly slowly, and his lips are just barely brushing yours-

Knock Knock Knock.

Both your heads whip around to the door at the sudden sound.

“Hey,” you recognize Dustin’s muffled voice, “Are you guys done having sex in there? I need to pee and Gareth’s totally throwing up in the other bathroom.”

You cover your mouth to hold in a raucous laugh. Yeah, you’re totally kicking that kid’s ass later. Eddie holds his hands up to you as you're about to respond, and gives you a shh gesture. He cups his hands around his mouth like a megaphone.

“AhAhAh! Fuck ohmygodfuck I’m gonna-,” Eddie loudly fake moans and whines in a high pitched voice at the door, aiming to scar the kid for life. You hit him lightly on the shoulder, holding in silent giggles the whole time.

“EW WHAT THE FUCK,” Dustin screams, and you hear him run off loudly in the opposite direction of the bathroom.

You turn to each other and burst into laughter. Eddie throws his arm around your shoulder as you unlock the door, opening it wide, ready to face whatever comes next together.

"You're such an asshole, Eddie," you roll your eyes. Your face feels like it’s going to split from how hard you’re grinning.

"Yeah,” he gives you a quick peck on the cheek, “Only for you, princess."

___

here's where that line is originally from!

crossposted to ao3

[corrodedcoughin]

Hello!!! How're you?? Hope you're well!! I'm currently having Munson family feelings lmao

Please imagine lil pre teen Eddie settling in with Wayne, finding his footing, becoming more open in a way that he wasn't with his father. And he's really getting into his dnd. Has the manuals Wayne got him for his birthday one year. A mini or two. And he wants to get better at DMing, but he can't practice with his group because that would ruin the surprise of it all. So one day, he shyly asks Wayne if he'll practice with him. Fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and shuffling his feet. Isn't 100% sure what Wayne will think just yet

And to his surprise, Wayne says yes. And Eddie just... lights up. Smiles a big megawatt grin and starts talking about how it'll be super fun uncle Wayne you won't regret it!!!

They spend an evening making Wayne a character - a human called Wayne, they're keeping it simple - while they eat Mac n cheese for dinner. Wayne loves how happy it makes Eddie. How carefree.

And on Wayne's next day off, when Eddie doesn't have school, they play together. A mini campaign, just for the two of them. Eddie practices his skills, gets to play dnd, and hang out with his uncle all in one go. It's kind of everything to them. It's a lighthearted adventure where Wayne goes on a quest to get the perfect bait so he can go fishing and catch his dream fish. Eddie tells him what dice to roll, helps him fight a goblin and a bear, and puts on all sorts of voices for the characters Wayne meets. Eddie gets so wrapped up in it all, so excited. But when it ends he's all nerves - bitten lips and wringing his hands.

Did Wayne like it?? Did he have fun?? Was Eddie good??

And Wayne honestly says it wasn't quite his thing but he had a lot of fun. Eddie is a damn fine storyteller, has a real knack for the dramatics. He'll impress his friends, for sure.

And idk!!! I love Eddie and Wayne exploring their dynamic and figuring out where they stand with each other those first few years. It would have been a bumpy ride but they love each other!!!

Wayne getting in from grocery shopping on a Saturday, he likes to go really early so he can avoid Sally Knowles town gossip extraordinaire who Kees letting Wayne know ‘people are gonna talk if you don’t give that nephew of yours a Mothering presence in his life’ Wayne’s heard enough of it. So while it means he has to get up early, he’ll do it to escape the song and dance of busy bodies.

He’s making his way up the trailer steps, bags of groceries in hand (he’s a one trip kind of man and won’t be changed) when he hears a voice behind the door. The muffled and rushed but excited voice of his nephew barely audible through the rustling of groceries and the clattering of god knows what in the trailer - ‘okay. Okay he’s here. Go time. Show time. Time to shine. Story telling powers on.’

Wayne can see Eddie in his minds eye, turning an invisible switch at his temple. A ritual he started for their very first session. The boy had been nervous then and now, four - games? Chapters? Wayne wasn’t sure - in the nerves were still there but the excitement far outweighed them.

Opening the door, Wayne flicked his eyes over to the couch were Eddie was propped up, books spread out on the coffee table and rudimentary map laid across the table top.

Eddie’s head shot up, ‘I’ll help!’, scrambling to his feet to take some of Wayne’s provisions off of him.

‘You in a rush, son? Normally I’m shouting you through to give me a hand with these?’ Wayne was teasing. Could see that Eddie was conflicted, had Wayne forgotten that he promised to finish the story today? That it was going to find the Pond Of Dreams? Wayne loved the kid but he wanted to have a little fun too.

Setting the bags down and putting the freezer items away, everything else could wait. Not even glancing down at Eddie, Wayne stretched tall and exaggerated ‘think I need a nap after that. Don’t mind me Ed, gonna get some shut eye.’ And the thing is he couldn’t look at Eddie, if he did he’d crumble and it would all be for naught. One glance of Eddie in his home sewn cape and it’s be over.

So he hot footed it to the bathroom, hoping Eddie wouldn’t question the pre-nap detour or the backpack he was taking with him.

He could hear Eddie mumbling, frustration and disappointment evident in his tone. Then the tv going on, cartoons on high volume as he tried to distract himself. Which is when Wayne decided to re-appear, clad in his full fishing gear and rod. Along side a toy lizard he velcroed to his shoulder.

‘Well boy, you ready to go fantasy fishing? Heard there’s a dream pond waiting to be found’ Wayne tipped his fishing hat like a cowboy as Eddie’s eyes grew wide, scanning the outfit. It wasn’t much but Wayne tried to add the little details as he could; the potion belt of healing (an ammo belt he borrowed from somebody at work), the spear character wayne earned in his first battle (a pvc tube Scott Clarke was happy to provide after their last dinner where Wayne recounted Eddie’s tales) and of course -

‘Is that Creedence?!’ Eddie finally speaking up and pointing at the lizard, the decided companion and helper to Wayne in his journey.

‘Sure is kid, think he’s ready to roll. The question is, are you?’ It’s not the easiest thing for Wayne to do, sometimes he feels silly with all the fantasy and character voices that Eddie insists upon but when it makes the boy this happy? This unguarded and free? Who is Wayne to say no? Maybe the sillyness is good for him, good for both of them.

[travllingbunny]

So, The Apprentice, directed by Ali Abbasi and starring Sebastian Stan, Jeremy Strong, Maria Bakalova and Martin Donovan, had its world premiere on Monday at the Cannes festival. I have tried to avoid reading too many of the reviews, because most of them are written by people who seem to think they should be describing specific scenes (how do you write a spoiler-filled review for a movie based on real life? That's how), but I have still read several reviews in full and quotes from many others that have been plastered across social media, and seen reactions on Twitter.

And at this point I just have to address how terrible many of these reviews are.No, I don't mean in the sense that they are negative about the movie, I mean that they are terribly written and contain insane, stupid arguments. I will not be able to see the film until it is released worldwide (probably in the autumn), so I can't talk about the film itself and its quality, but some of the arguments are bad by themselves. It's not surprising that, due to the topic of the movie (you know), many are unable to be normal about it even when writing professional reviews. But can you write reviews that don't use arguments like.. (and here am I'm going to list increasingly bad, stupid arguments, with the dumbest and most insane one at the end (including a quote from a review that exudes homophobia and antisemitism))

"Why is this movie made, why now, do we really need it?" (We don't need any movie. No movie is a necessity. And maybe your review shouldn't be about you being pissed off to begin with that there's a movie about Trump, even if it's highly critical and unflattering.)

"We already know all this" (What else did you expect?! That's true of any movie or other fictional work based on real life events and people. Every such movie only tells events you already know if you have done a minimum of research on the topic -information is available online for everyone to see. .Unless you go and just make up things. Should a film based on real events include made up stuff to be better?? Not that the general audiences tend to know all about the real life topics of various biopics and real life fictional work, they usually don't because people don't read up on everything. )

-"Since these things are already known, it's unlikely that it could be a game changer in the elections" - Of course it won't. Who in the right mind ever expects a movie to change minds (people who don't like what's shown will just say it's lies and propaganda, which the Trump campaign is already saying) and affect elections?! What made you think that's what it's meant to do, or what movies generally do.

Anything along the lines of "Trump would hate/love seeing..." Why are you trying to read his mind? Especially weird when you see negative reviews based on the idea "Trump would actually love this because [reasons]" (especially wild knowing some of the extremely unflattering things shown in the movie, but these comments usually contain weird projections to the effect that he will think he looks cool because he 'wins' in the end? Which may say a lot about the people saying these things) Meanwhile, the Trump campaign is threatening to sue the movie

"The movie is tepid, doesn't go far enough... " (OK, in what way...?) "in making Trump look bad enough. it's so dangerous to humanize him" (?!) I guess the better approach would be to portray him as an alien monster from outer space who was born evil. This is obviously stupid in itself, but even wilder when you know it's about a movie where (SPOILER)................................ ....................................he is shown raping his wife............................................................................................. What does it say about you if you think this is still not unflattering enough? (Then again, Trump is not the only POTUS who has had multiple allegations of rape, sexual assault and sexual harrassment against him, in fact that's true of 3 of the 5 last Presidents of the USA including the curent one, so it's more of a feature than a bug in US politics...)

and then similar to this, but even wilder, is the absolute worst argument/criticism I've seen (and it says a lot that this is these are the only negative criticisms of the two central performances that I've seen): the performances are weak because those figures are are not caricatured enough?!

This last argument is something I've seen in only two reviews, but it's so bad that I just have to single it out.

One such is The Telegraph review, which argues that Stan's approach is "too sensitive" and that the role needed an actor who is "more of a caricaturist"?!

I thought this was the worst review I've seen, but it gets even worse in this review from something called Little White Lies (I'm linking the Tumblr repost, because I'm not giving this crap a click):

WTF?! Aside from why you would expect the performance to be campy (I know why...) apparently this dude thinks it's a failing that Jeremy Strong is giving a credible and realistic portrayal of Roy Cohn rather than making him look like a homophobic, antisemitic stereotype?! (I don't know if this dude's description of this other performance is accurate, but I'm going by what is said here.) Which this guy thinks is just the right way to go - obviously he believes (like quite a few liberals seem to) that it's OK and in fact desirable to be bigoted when it's against people who are/were bad, right wing and bigoted themselves. See, Roy Cohn was gay and Jewish and he hated being gay (true) and hated being Jewish (debatable), so it's not only perfectly OK but in fact awesome to be homophobic and antisemitic towards him? Oh but see it's fine because he was a hypocrite? Well, I have news for you - so are you. F**k off.

[qqueenofhades]

Have you seen all this George Santos craziness?? Can he keep his seat he won with all this or will they hold another election or use a runner up or something???

Yeah, I have seen it. It honestly doesn't surprise me very much? After all, it is the perfect encapsulation of the current Republican party. Truth is completely optional, principles are non-existent, integrity is a LOL, and all that matters is power. You hear any of the Republicans actually condemning it? Nah. Trump was the Liar in Chief and they have so normalized rampant deceit and industrial gaslighting as a basic political strategy that of course they aren't gonna call out a guy with an R next to his name for it, especially as long as he votes for all their stupid plans. So.

Technically, he's not under any obligation to resign (though of course if he had any decency, he would, but he is a Republican, so let us not hold our breath). Besides, he won a Biden district, so a special election would more likely favor the Democrats, and the House GOP, with their tiny four-seat majority, wants to avoid losing even more of it. I think I heard something about the House Democrats planning to formally object to him being seated; they can't prevent it, since they will be in the minority, but it will at least force the Republicans to go on record voting for him to be seated anyway. Not that their complete vacuum of principle or integrity is news to anyone at this point, but still.

Anyway, my personal guess, cynical as it may sound, is that Santos (if that is even his real name) is probably a Russian asset. All that completely unexplained money to suddenly finance his campaign, all the lies about his past, that admission of visiting Moscow "many times," and the fact that Putin is getting increasingly desperate to stop American aid to Ukraine somehow... yeah. Santos couldn't do much with one vote, but as a House member, he would have access to sensitive legislative, intelligence, financial, military etc information not meant for public consumption, and God only knows where that would end up. He's a walking national security risk as well as a pathological liar. And since that is the Republicans' favorite kind of poster boy (see: Trump, Donald J.), I guess he'll fit right in!

[littleladymab]

for the soft oc asks - for Elżbieta 🥀🌻 and for Davey Jane 🌿🍄. and for both of them - 💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

HEHEHE THANK YOU JADE 💞

Elżbieta

🥀How would your OC decorate a notebook or journal? What kind of things are written in there? Could you give an example of a nice entry?

Oh her notebook is just SO straight forward. She might do some simple sketches of things she's investigating (especially of a clue, or when trying to parse a thing), but it's just a bunch of lists and facts on a case she's working on. (If you want any emotions in things she writes, those would be letters to her mom. 🤭) no sample entry or I'll be here all day thinking about here hahaha

🌻 What little things do they notice about people or the world around them that make them happy? What tiny little treasures do they find in the normal every day that makes the world seem a little brighter for them?

Her favorite things are folk art, especially in textiles! I don't know if I actually remembered to mention it in her character reference doc I made for Bitmap, but the sash she wears around her waist was embroidered by her mom. So seeing little things like that is like, her favorite things going into towns! She doesn't have a life that will allow her to carry around a lot of little knick knacks but omg given the chance she would buy tiny figurines or dolls or clothes/textiles at any town she goes into.

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

oh god do i have any fun facts about this character??? I feel like I MUST especially as I'm going to port her into an original project barring any surprise sequel campaigns but god i can't think of any. Maybe that she was a surprise crackshot with a rifle somehow, i wrote wife the first time. I wanted her to be a gunslinger but didn't think we were going to have firearms, but lo we got them in the first session and the amount of crits I got!!!! surprise, my girl is a marksman!!!

Davey

🌿What way does your OC show that they care without using words? What way do others show your OC that they’re cared about without using speech?

omg I feel like Davey would be an expert in all kinds of love languages and cater them all specifically to individuals. He is always down to just vibe in the same space as someone, but he's a hugely physical person so his favorite ways to show love and be shown are hugs or cuddling or even shoulder bumps.

🍄 What are your OCs favourite snacks? Their favourite comfort food which always cheers them up when they’re down? Favourite meal to make? Do they enjoy baking and cooking and are they any good in the kitchen?

WELL okay I guess like in a "modern" era since that's how we've used he most often, he's a huge salty snack guy. Popcorn and potato chips! Like, simple flavors mostly? Sea salt or kettle corn, but god he probably will just snack on salty things when editing videos, rip to his keyboard he'll have to clean it so much. He doesn't bake, but he does know how to make simple meals in the kitchen. And would love to do like, cooking parties with friends!!

💫What is your favourite fact about this character and why?

every fact about him is a favorite fact no jk I think he's just one of my eternally optimistic characters! Like there's moments where he'll be like "well, shit" or panic about something but in the end he's always looking forward and always looking on the bright side of things when he can.

[[Send me some soft OC asks!]]

[tirednerd2012]

I’ve seen au’s where people swap the wheeler family and the Byers family roles and make Jonathan dislike being around will and honestly the slander is out of this world

I think even if Jonathan was in Nancy’s shoes- Socially popular enough but academically a huge nerd- he would still love his little brother so much. Any background hed still care about his brother. Not going to parties because he promised to hang with Will, or forgoing study dates with Nancy once they get close because Will has been down lately.

Jonathan loves his brother

(It also gives bad vibes in Nancy who clearly loves her siblings too. The slander all around smh)

THE SLANDER IS UNACCEPTABLE. Also tw for harsh, homophobic language used in one sentence.

First, Nancy loves Mike, they just have a more "normal" sibling relationship because of their age difference and the fact Nancy didn't have to raise Mike the way Jonathan raised Will.

But you cannot tell me that in any AU, Jonathan doesn't absolutely adore his little brother. And you can't tell me Jonathan wouldn't be the best big brother in the world still. He doesn't like parties as much as he likes staying home and watching a movie with Will. He helps the boys with their DnD campaigns and makes sure they have all the snacks and pizza they need for them. He'd drop anything and everything for Will. His little brother's having a bad day? They're going out to the arcade. Someone's bullying Will? Jonathan's confronting the kid. He and Nancy have a date, but Will's in the middle of a meltdown? He can make it up to Nancy later, but Will needs him and that's always his first priority.

Will still being the one to go missing and Jonathan is still looking for him. Tommy H hangs around him a bit due to the crowd, but Jonathan hears him say, "Will's probably in fairy land now. I wouldn't be surprised if another fag killed him." And Jonathan immediately turns around and fights him. He's suspended from school but he doesn't give a shit because nothing else matters to him. The social aspect of high school is bullshit to him, he just wants his little brother back.

Jonathan destroying his reputation for Will in any instance because there is nothing more important to him than his baby brother. Will still knowing he can go to Jonathan for anything and also knowing Jonathan doesn't like the social crowd, he just goes with it because he likes Nancy.

I also can't see Jonathan enjoying being in the spot light of high school in the way Nancy is. He doesn't like people, at least a majority of them, and he doesn't enjoy high school. He just wants to do what he needs to do and then leaves. But he's invested in anything that has to do with his brother and he wants to make his mom happy, so he just goes with it.

[herbs-and-spices-and-flowers]

Late Crossover Wednesday.

So the Fool's Gold campaign walks into a town. It was evening and they were looking for a tavern inn to have some dinner at and hopefully no karyoke. They meet a young man with a bright smile on his face handing out little samples of cotton candy. Erina went over to have some of those sweet samples and ask where they can find some food. "Oh I know the best rester...ahem. Tavern inn in this town!" "Did it come with the cotton candy?" asked Erina.

"Cotton candy? No. We don't have that. We have CATTON CANDY!" and then he points at a board with a picture of a cat on it.

Ohio Jack heard the joke and told him with his famous glare, "That pun was awful." "Oh try your thing at marketing sometime, MR!" he reacted. and then he turns to Erina and smiles saying,

"Right this way, miss to the best tavern inn in town."

And then Erina calls everyone over explaining what she had heard.

"Ok. Let's see what these guys have to offer." responded Gothi. "Heh. Catton Candy." whispered Sips.

The young man named Judah Nelson takes them to a 50s style resteraunt and says to them,

"See? We have the best inn in town. You just can't stay here for the night."

And so the crazyness began. First, Judah called Mr. Jack sus because he had a red shirt. Mr. Jack was offended for that. Next, Sneeze finds out the hard way that the sugar-bomb drink was no sugar-free. Then Erina got into a fight with Judah's brother, Micah Nelson. He then snaps and says, "Are you that stupid?!"

Now, Erina could have obliterated Micah then and there, but she took a different turn. She went and wrote down a complaint. Sips witnessed that and called Micah over. He offers him a small notebook and says, "Hey, I saw you fighting Erina back there. Here, have this. It's uncursed." "What do you mean, 'uncursed'?" nevertheless, Micah accepts the notebook with a thank you but finds out the hard way that the notebook wasn't uncursed. They uncursed him Sips uncurses the notebook and let's Micah keep it. "Erina can be a pain in your guts sometimes. I'm pretty sure you can find some use for that." "Well, I do have to write down theories somewhere." "Perfect!"

Later, one of their waiters, Cole is caught flirting with Erina. Which results in Micah tackling him and Michelle offering to take her order instead.

When they got their appitizers, they noticed that it tasted burnt. Gothi went back to old senile Gothi while going to figure out what was happening. She walks in and sees their brother, Josiah moaning that he forgot about the butter-spill. Judah walks in and slips.

"Young man, I have a complaint." "Oh, what is it, ma'am?" asked Judah. "Your soup is too hot." "Right." "And your salad tastes like it was on fire." "No surprise there." added Josiah. "AND ANOTHER THING!" "What?!" They both asked. "Where am I?"

Oh yeah. And Michelle threaten to break a few knee-caps, which Micah says that they won't do.

In the end, they got to eat some of their famous pizza-taco and I don't know what else to type here. Judah still doesn't like Mr. Jack and calls him sus. Also, old Gothi was returned to normal.

[twistyprefect]

Twisty, you're always making hcs and stuff for others like requests but I'm curious about what hc or twst people are plaguing your mind?

Please don't forget to take breaks and drink water :)

{ty anon this is a very sweet ask aekfbhaw;irgh ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ this will be the last one i do tonight, so that i do actually take a break like you guys ask me to!! everyone has been so sweet since i started, thank you all so much!! 💞💕 this is a VERY specific idea since i've been thinking about it a bit lol}

for your consideration: The Bois tm with an S/O who loves animals/is an activist for animals

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is a bit confused at first but eventually he understands; where his partner is from, merpeople and beastpeople aren't super common

he really enjoys seeing them interact with the animals on campus, especially the hedgehogs that they steal from babysit for Riddle

he realizes that it's more than just a normal love for animals when he notices them writing up a poster to encourage students to clean up their trash more

when he asks why they're doing it, they shyly explain that they've seen some of the animals trying to eat the trash

he eventually shows them his octopus form on a trip to the Coral Sea, offering to let them study him if they really want to

Floyd Leech

Floyd thinks it's adorable how concerned with the animals both on and off campus his partner is

he teases them a bit about it, but if it upsets them he backs off a bit since he knows it's something important to them

he offers to help them with any of their campaigns on campus, since he doesn't mind a bit of manual labor to make his darling happy

jokes that he's lucky he's a merman or maybe his partner wouldn't have agreed to date him

shows them his mer-eel form all the time, since he thinks the way their eyes light up is the cutest thing ever

Jade Leech

Jade thinks it's admirable how much his partner cares about a group of beings that can't even talk

he likes to watch them try and befriend every single animal they come across, no matter how big or small

loves the way they're always so gentle and hesitant to touch animals if they seem a bit scared or skittish

admires how dedicated they are to their chosen cause, seeing a bit of Azul's ambition in them

definitely shows off his mer-eel form as often as possible since he thinks it's something that makes his partner truly enamored with him (even if they always are)

Jamil Viper

Jamil adores seeing the look of determination in his partner's eyes when they go to animal rights or environmental protection events

he goes with them mostly because he knows how much they care about the cause, so it'd make them happy to have him by their side

he's pretty busy, but he can make time to sit with them under a tree and just look for cool birds or other fun animals

jokingly asks if they're only dating him because his last name is the name of a snake; skillfully dodges the book they throw at him for it

likes to gift them animal related things, and lots of them since their favorite animal changes almost constantly

Lillia Vanrouge

Lillia thinks any kind of dedication or passion for a cause is an admirable and beautiful trait

the fact his partner gets so fired up over any and all animals relatively equally is almost impressive

he likes to surprise them by showing them exotic or strange animals from trips he takes

he likes to tease them by saying he's basically an animal with his sharp teeth, so they should really dedicate more time to him

constantly makes jokes about going extinct is his beloved partner doesn't give him enough cuddles and attention; while he teases them about his frequently, he genuinely admires and supports their passion for animals

[thedamageofherdays]

This is my first weekly reading log. I've been reading some incredibly lovely fics so I figured why not share that excitement with others :) Just a little warning that most of the fics this week are explicit. My favourites are marked with 🌻

🌻 SPELEVINK by Ginny_Potter @hipsterdiva [Stucky, 9k, General]

Bucky’s back. He’s leaving me messages through IKEA plushies, Steve texts Sam. jesus christ, rogers, Sam texts back.

Or, Bucky lives in an IKEA Tiny Apartment, Steve is a dancing monkey once again, and somehow they find their way back to each other.

🌻 I Want To Teach You A Lesson In The Worst Kind Of Way by fandomfluffandfuck @fandomfluffandfuck [Stucky, 61k, Explicit]

Bucky is not an arts major, not even close. He's getting his master's in Biotechnology with dreams of going into the sort of half related medical field of biotechnology prosthetics, inspired by a childhood pet, a three legged cat called Alpine. However, the schooling system (one that normally he doesn't mind too much because he's that much of a nerd) demands that he take a variety of classes; even if they don't pertain towards his immediate interests. An art elective is one of those required unrelated classes. He's not interested.

Not yet anyway; whether he likes it or not he might end up discovering an interest in art. Or. At least an interest in the professor teaching the art credit fulfilling class as it pertains to his... non-school related interests...

i got it bad for you by howdoyousleep @howdoyousleep3 [Evanstan RPF, 4k, Explicit]

“Yeah? Older?”

“Yeah yeah, just…I don’t know, the beard? This fucking hair? Just…I don’t know— older,” he manages to chuckle nervously, gasping into Chris’ mouth when their squirming leads their dicks into lining up beautifully. Seb aches, yearns, mouth watering as he mewls, both hands in Chris’ hair as he licks into Sebastian’s mouth.

And then Chris pulls back, breathes hot on Sebastian’s cheek, his bottom lip, croons, “Like your Daddy?”

bet i look nice on you by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 1k, Explicit]

“C’mon, you said you wanted to feel, said you were up for a challenge,” Steve taunts lowly, peering up at Bucky from where he sits. “Daddy, want it. Daddy, wanna feel you for days,” he tacks on in a nasally exaggerated voice, one used with the full intention on making Bucky embarrassed, uncomfortable.

It works.

Aut Cum Scuto, Aut In Scuto by humapuma [Stucky, 33k, Explicit]

Bucky never thought he would find his Omega at just twenty-years-old. Mates usually found each other around twenty-two or twenty-three, so he was overjoyed to learn that their bond was so strong, they were drawn to one another early. Until Bucky's family attorney informed him that his Omega - Steve - was not only a long-time activist and a successful nurse, he was actually thirty-six.

Steve never thought he would find his Alpha. It had been more than ten years since they were supposed to come together, and he had long-since given up waiting. So, when a kid slammed into him on the street and tried to claim him, Steve was more than a little surprised.

Can these two overcome their differences, presumptions, and their pasts to find one another on the other side?

I didn't want the scars to show by Bittersweet_In_Boston [Stucky, 8k, Mature]

“This is Steve, one of my...co-workers,” Barton says teasingly. “Steve, this is James Barnes, the tattoo artist I was telling you about.”

Steve has heretofore been dumbstruck as he looks at James Barnes, because he is the most beautiful human Steve’s ever met, with the possible exception of Peggy 70 years ago. His long dark hair is pulled into a messy bun at the back of his head, and it frames the face of an angel, with a long-aquiline nose, a wide sensitive mouth, cheekbones to cry over, and a jawline that could kill at twenty paces, covered with a light layer of stubble.

And most importantly, large grey-blue eyes that light up and scan over Steve as Barnes shakes his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” he says in his husky voice, and this is where Steve has to remind himself how to be a functioning human being in a society.

“Good to meet you too, James,” Steve says, his voice only cracking a little. James’ hand is warm and strong and dry, and Steve could happily hold it forever. He does let go after a few seconds like a normal person, however.

“Bucky. Call me Bucky,” says James. “Everyone does.”

“OK...Bucky,” Steve says, and this time his voice behaves.

🌻 grassroots by howdoyousleep [Stucky, 11k, Explicit]

Bucky has been waiting for a moment like this.

Under the guise of a work trip, he joins Senator Rogers in New York City for his good friend Sam Wilson’s campaign fundraiser for Governor of New York. All that consumes Bucky’s mind at first is Steve’s insistence on sharing a room, a bed, so much so that he is caught entirely off guard by something much less conspicuous—one Steve Rogers back in Brooklyn.

In just two days Bucky learns more about Steve than he could have ever anticipated, and although it’s only forty-eight hours, it begins to shift their relationship, blind to the two of them. From stories about his mama to where to get the best pizza in the borough, Steve shares a side of himself with Bucky that few have ever been able to see before…

🌻 I Can't Do Everything (But I'll Do Anything For You) by Musette22 (with art from rufferto) @musette22 [Stucky, 24k, Explicit]

Steve Rogers cares about a lot of things, but dating isn’t one of them – much to his fellow Avengers’ bemusement. It’s just never been very high on his list of priorities, falling somewhere behind his work, his friends, his hobbies, and that excellent pepperoni pizza from Vinnie’s on Flatbush Ave.

That is until one night, Natasha drags Steve out to a charity music concert by some hotshot singer that Steve has never actually heard of (which would surprise exactly no one, seeing as Steve is still partial to his records and his radio plays). And as soon as Steve lays eyes on Grammy-award winning musician and international heartthrob James Barnes for the very first time, suddenly he wonders if maybe dating wouldn’t be so bad after all. Dating James Barnes, specifically, that is. The question is just: how does one go about that? Especially one like Steve, who’s never wooed anybody in his century-long life, let alone a man. Let alone a man with long, dark hair, tattoos all over his arms, and a fanbase that rivals Steve’s own.

It’s not like he can just go up to him and say something like, "You and me babe, how about it?"

[lidiacervos]

I'm still confused- how did el/riels came up with the whole spy theory for Elain..? What did she do that would make her a spy? Not telling someone where they are going and keeping a secret for someone is what my 11 and 12 year old little siblings can do. My little sister still hasn't told my parents that I gave way too much money to a homeless women. My little brother lies to his friends so well, they believe him everytime he says he can't go play with them because he has a lot to do or our mom doesn't allow it. No one, not even Rhys know that Mor is queer, Feyre hasn't told anything. Still no one knows that Helion is Lucien's actual father, Feysand have not told a soul and LoA was able to keep that secret for centuries. Feyre played Tamlin so well, he fell into her trap. Are they all spies?

We have Gwyn explaining to us what she has done with the beasts to the Illyrians during the rite and then a few chapters later we have Azriel explaining to us what it takes to be a spy. He told us exactly what Gwyn did. Yet they pretend like that scene doesn't exist and cry that Gwyn has told "Nesta's secret" to Merril. Gwyn has asked Merril to find Information about the trove BUT she hast told her for what. That is what she wasn't supposed to tell and she kept her word. How else was she suppose to find information? Gwyn informed Nesta and Nesta wasn't angry, nor sad, nor dissapointed. Even the IC knows that Gwyn helps Nesta and no one gave a damn. They pretend like all the good things Gwyn has done don't exist but really try to fish out all her flaws and mistakes. All the time they laugh at Gwyn for doing friendship bracelets, when that is a normal thing and there is a meaning behind it. She hasn't done anything wrong, so they fish out everything that seems "wrong" to them.

What Azriel does normally takes violence as well. Elain hates violence. Why would they want her to do something that she can't stand? She isn't even trained by anyone. Like it or not, Azriel is training Gwyn and there is a high possibility that they are going to train privatly. They already have done it!

I find it soooo funny that they are the ones who always yell at us and say crap like: "you hate her because she isn't your typical warrior girl 🙄" but then create a version of Elain that is exactly the typical warrior girl. They completely ignore the things Elain likes and is and give her a whole new personality that literally belongs to another person. The version they created is literally the female version of Azriel.

If it's true that Azriel is training Elain, then we would have gotten some hints. Maybe when Elain claimed she would be doing some garden stuff, make her look at Azriel- as if they have a silent conversation between them or something. We have never gotten any hints that he trains her privatly. Azriel doesn't even want her any near danger, so how is she going to be a spy?!

I was surprised when I heard from them that Elain will become a spy because I never got the vibe from her. She's better fit to be a courtier. She has proven so many times that she is fit for that role. Not a spy 😬

They turned things meant to tell us “Elain is hiding something” into “Elain would make a great spy”. It’s part of the “e/riel is perfect for each other” campaign, when acosf pointed out the opposite.

I have noticed that a lot of the theories to make e/riel work involve turning one of them into something they’re currently not…

Yeah, Elain isn’t into violence. Lucien isn’t either. They’re both social and sly, could charm a room into sharing their secrets, all out in the open. Violence is a huge part of Azriel’s life and Gwyn has at least seen a glimpse of what Azriel has done, and she hasn’t shied away from him. Right now, Gwyn has a better understanding of who Azriel is than Elain.

I hadn’t heard that anyone thinks Azriel has been training Elain, but if that were true it would have been mentioned in his chapter.

[netflixaddictedd]

10 gay books you should read (I'm making a lesbian version soon!)

Red, white & royal blue: When his mother became President, Alex Claremont-Diaz was promptly cast as the American equivalent of a young royal. Handsome, charismatic, genius—his image is pure millennial-marketing gold for the White House. There's only one problem: Alex has a beef with the actual prince, Henry, across the pond. And when the tabloids get hold of a photo involving an Alex-Henry altercation, U.S./British relations take a turn for the worse. Heads of family, state, and other handlers devise a plan for damage control: staging a truce between the two rivals. What at first begins as a fake, Instragramable friendship grows deeper, and more dangerous, than either Alex or Henry could have imagined. Soon Alex finds himself hurtling into a secret romance with a surprisingly unstuffy Henry that could derail the campaign and upend two nations.

Running with lions: Bloomington High School Lions star goalie Sebastian Hughes should be excited about his senior year: His teammates are amazing, and hes got a coach who doesnt ask anyone to hide their sexuality. But when his estranged childhood-best-friend Emir Shah shows up at summer training camp, Sebastian realizes the teams success may end up in the hands of the one guy who hates him. Determined to reconnect with Emir for the sake of the Lions, he sets out to regain Emirs trust. But to Sebastians surprise, sweaty days on the pitch, wandering the towns streets, and bonding on the weekends spark more than just friendship between them.

The fascinators: Living in a small town where magic is frowned upon, Sam needs his friends James and Delia - and their time together in their school's magic club - to see him through to graduation. But as soon as senior year starts, little cracks in their group begin to show. Sam may or may not be in love with James. Delia is growing more frustrated with their amateur magic club. And James reveals that he got mixed up with some sketchy magickers over the summer, putting a target on all their backs. With so many fault lines threatening to derail his hopes for the year, Sam is forced to face the fact that the very love of magic that brought his group together is now tearing them apart - and there are some problems that no amount of magic can fix. 

Infinity son: Growing up in New York, brothers Emil and Brighton always idolized the Spell Walkers—a vigilante group sworn to rid the world of specters. While the Spell Walkers and other celestials are born with powers, specters take them, violently stealing the essence of endangered magical creatures. Brighton wishes he had a power so he could join the fray. Emil just wants the fighting to stop. The cycle of violence has taken a toll, making it harder for anyone with a power to live peacefully and openly. In this climate of fear, a gang of specters has been growing bolder by the day. Then, in a brawl after a protest, Emil manifests a power of his own—one that puts him right at the heart of the conflict and sets him up to be the heroic Spell Walker Brighton always wanted to be. Brotherhood, love, and loyalty will be put to the test, and no one will escape the fight unscathed.

Aristotle and Dante discover the secrets of the universe: Aristotle is an angry teen with a brother in prison. Dante is a know-it-all who has an unusual way of looking at the world. When the two meet at the swimming pool, they seem to have nothing in common. But as the loners start spending time together, they discover that they share a special friendship—the kind that changes lives and lasts a lifetime. And it is through this friendship that Ari and Dante will learn the most important truths about themselves and the kind of people they want to be.

Simon vs the homosapiens agenda: Sixteen-year-old and not-so-openly gay Simon Spier prefers to save his drama for the school musical. But when an email falls into the wrong hands, his secret is at risk of being thrust into the spotlight. Now change-averse Simon has to find a way to step out of his comfort zone before he's pushed out without alienating his friends, compromising himself, or fumbling a shot at happiness with the most confusing, adorable guy he's never met.

Him: Jamie Canning has never been able to figure out how he lost his closest friend. Four years ago, his tattooed, wise-cracking, rule-breaking roommate cut him off without an explanation. So what if things got a little weird on the last night of hockey camp the summer they were eighteen? It was just a little drunken foolishness. Nobody died. Ryan Wesley’s biggest regret is coaxing his very straight friend into a bet that pushed the boundaries of their relationship. Now, with their college teams set to face off at the national championship, he’ll finally get a chance to apologize. But all it takes is one look at his longtime crush, and the ache is stronger than ever. Jamie has waited a long time for answers, but walks away with only more questions— can one night of sex ruin a friendship? If not, how about six more weeks of it? When Wesley turns up to coach alongside Jamie for one more hot summer at camp, Jamie has a few things to discover about his old friend...and a big one to learn about himself.

Date me, Bryson Keller: Everyone at Fairvale Academy knows Bryson Keller, the super-hot soccer captain who doesn't believe in high-school relationships. They also know about the dare Bryson accepted - each week he has to date the first person who asks him out. A single school week is all anyone gets. There have been no exceptions to this. None. Until me, that is. Because brilliant Bryson Keller forgot one thing. He never said it could only be girls...

The infinite noise: Caleb Michaels is a sixteen-year-old champion running back. Other than that his life is pretty normal. But when Caleb starts experiencing mood swings that are out of the ordinary for even a teenager, his life moves beyond “typical.” Caleb is an Atypical, an individual with enhanced abilities. Which sounds pretty cool except Caleb's ability is extreme empathy—he feels the emotions of everyone around him. Being an empath in high school would be hard enough, but Caleb's life becomes even more complicated when he keeps getting pulled into the emotional orbit of one of his classmates, Adam. Adam's feelings are big and all-consuming, but they fit together with Caleb's feelings in a way that he can't quite understand. Caleb's therapist, Dr. Bright, encourages Caleb to explore this connection by befriending Adam. As he and Adam grow closer, Caleb learns more about his ability, himself, his therapist—who seems to know a lot more than she lets on—and just how dangerous being an Atypical can be.

They both die at the end: On September 5, a little after midnight, Death-Cast calls Mateo Torrez and Rufus Emeterio to give them some bad news: They're going to die today. Mateo and Rufus are total strangers, but, for different reasons, they're both looking to make a new friend on their End Day. The good news: There's an app for that. It's called the Last Friend, and through it, Rufus and Mateo are about to meet up for one last great adventure to live a lifetime in a single day.