#Eddie: See. here’s an apple because you’re the apple of my eye

[morganbritton132]

Nancy sends Eddie a video the morning after her monster hunter trio sleepover and Eddie uses it as a background in a Tiktok.

So, he’s wordlessly in the corner of the screen while the video plays. It shows Nancy getting out bed, putting on her sleepers and her robe, and then walking across the hall to the guest room where Steve and Jonathan are asleep at opposite ends of the bed.

Nancy walks to the side of the bed that Steve is sleeping on and taps on the phone laying next to him. The screen lights up and shows that he’s on a call with Eddie that has been going on for the last five hours.

She flips the camera around and says directly to Eddie, “You’re pathetic.”

Nancy’s video ends and Eddie takes up the whole screen of his Tiktok just to say, “I can’t believe this is how I find out that my husband has me in his phone as Eddie Munson.”

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Diabetic Steve who is at a Dairy Queen with Robin after he went with her to an all girl punk band that’s she’s been wanting to see for years. Steve had been feeling weird all day but he didn’t want to bail at the last second because he knew that Robin would just cancel everything to take care of Steve.

(Steve would do the same for her).

Steve plops down into a booth while Robin goes to order them food. He pulls out his pod and winces when he sees his glucose level.

64 and going down. Not a good sign.

Just to be sure he pricks his finger and holy shit, he’s actually at 43. It’s at that moment, when Steve is wiping his finger with the alcohol wipe, that his phone decides to loudly beep to alert him that, “hey you’re crashing pretty hard and fast— take care of it soon!!”

Steve is rifling through his bag while Robin is already trying to rush their orders.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles to himself. “I’m out of fucking juice.”

His hands start to shake and Robin begins to freak out. Steve is always so in control of his diabetes, she’s never seen him like this. So, Robin does what any other person would do and grabs the largest blizzard she has ever seen on the online orders tray and runs over to her best friend.

“Here! Have this, I’m going to try to get you some apple juice!”

Steve just nods his head and slowly spoons some of it into his mouth.

“This tastes like shit, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, dingus. Now shut up and eat.”

The worker behind the counter comes over and starts talking to Robin after she sits in front of Steve. Steve can’t really make anything out right now since he’s trying to focus on making his hands work. But, he thinks he hears the mention of calling 911 and an ambulance.

Time passes a little slower after that. Steve somehow manages to get down enough of the ice cream that he is slowly rising again.

57 after he pricked. Thank god.

It’s at that moment that Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, walks in. He went to his best friend’s, Chrissy’s, show and needed a pick-me-up after helping her lug all of her equipment back into their vehicle.

He goes over to the online orders tray and it’s empty. He doesn’t really mind waiting. He walks over to the counter and sees that the worker is extremely frantic as she sorts some shit out.

“Hey,” he starts, his fingers tapping the fake granite counter top. “Just checking, I’m here to pick up an order for Edmundo and it’s not on the tray. Do you know when it will be ready?” He flashes an awkward smile and the worker just points to the table behind him.

“We’re working on it. Your nightmare of a blizzard was needed for something else. Give us five minutes.”

Eddie nods and slowly turned around, where he sees the most gorgeous man eating his blizzard. Reluctantly, he might add. The man has on a light pink t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, thick lensed glasses sliding down his nose. The woman across from him was clad in funky colors and had a dirty blonde bob. She was talking extremely fast and gesturing with her hands a bunch.

Chrissy would love her.

He walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.

“How’s my blizzard?”

He slowly looks up and Eddie is met with honey brown eyes and beauty marks for days. A straight nose and an angular jawline. Jesus Christ.

The woman looks like she’s about to say something, but the guy beats her to it. “It tastes like if a unicorn threw up in my mouth, but it prevented me from passing out. So… thanks.” He smiles. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie needs to become Steve’s husband immediately.

“And I’m in love.” He pauses and then sees the look of glee on Steve’s face. “EDDIE. My name is Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Eddie. Are you free tomorrow?”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddie-spooktober day 3: apples | rated: G | wc: 998

“Wow, he’s really good at that.” Robin remarks as Eddie sloshes back up out of the bucket with yet another apple caught in his grin, “Who'da thunk, huh?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathes, watching Eddie’s hair drip down over his forehead and down his neck, “He’s really good with his mouth.”

Robin chokes on her most recent swig of cider, “I’m sorry, what?!”

“Uh…” Steve feels his face turn hot, “Huh? I didn’t say anything.” He moves to turn away back into the Hoppers’ cabin, an excuse of the bathroom or a new mug of cider ready behind his teeth and Robin on his heels

“Oh no you don’t; you explain yourself this instant Steven Marie Harrington!” She demands, voice much louder than he’d like it to be, “What did you just say about Eddie Munson’s mouth??”

“Nothing that anyone—especially the Eddie in question—needs to hear! Quiet down!” He whispers in a harried tone.

He pulls her into Hopper’s tiny bathroom, snapping the door shut behind him.

“You have a crush on Eddie Munson?! Our Eddie Munson?”

Steve leans back against the door and sighs, letting himself sink to the floor. “Still too loud.” he says, not actually meaning it.

She must’ve been able to tell that he’s trying to stall, so she sinks onto the shallow edge of the tub to wait. One of her knees knocks against the bowl of the toilet, the other against the wall.

“I think I have for a little while now. Since spring break at least.” he confesses, now that he’s in the proper position to do so, here on the bathroom floor.

“You found time to get your first crush on a guy since figuring out you’re bi, and it’s during yet another upside-down related catastrophe.” Robin states rather than asks. “You’re something else, Dingus.”

“Gee, thanks for your support.”

“You have it always, obviously,” she waves him off, “Just surprised that the first I’m hearing about it is when your horny lizard brain tells me for you.”

“It’s been getting really annoying lately.”

“What, having a big gay crush on someone? I feel you.”

“No, lizard brain is being really annoying lately. But yeah, also that.”

Steve’s gaze is stuck on the slightly mis-matched piece of linoleum between his feet, but sees Robin nod her head in his periphery.

Neither say anything for a solid 45 seconds, until: “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Something… eventually… maybe…” he hedges, “Just ‘cause he’s into guys too doesn’t mean he’s into me.”

“Oh yeah, of course he isn’t.”

He rolls his eyes at the sarcasm. “I’m being serious Robin.”

“Me too.”

Steve finally looks up at her.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m being serious about my sarcasm, Steven. Of course Eddie’s into you; you saw how he was flirting with you during the whole Vecna fiasco!” Robin flails her arm around in emphasis, “How he’s been flirting with you ever since.”

“What if that’s not just for me though, he’s annoyingly charming to everyone!”

“He may be charming,” She grimaces (“Hey!”), “But that doesn’t mean he’s out here flirting with anyone!”

“He just feels comfortable with me.”

“Everyone our age knows about Eddie, Steve, and he’s still been his same dorky self with all them. You’re the only one he’s been flirting with nonstop.”

Steve opens his mouth to respond, but closes it again. 

Damn, she’s got a point.

Eddie never calls Jonathan ‘sweetheart’, or Argyle ‘big boy’... he’s heard him say once that Hopper was his first crush when he’d had one too many drinks, but she’s right.. Eddie’s only flirty with him.

Steve suddenly feels all swoopy inside. And it must show on his face somehow, because Robin says “Ew gross, you’re thinking about him aren’t you?”

“No, I’m thinking about Hopper– of course I’m thinking about him!” Steve grins, then pushes him up off the floor. “Okay, okay, I just have to make it through the rest of the day, and I’ll ask him out tomorrow when he comes in to bother us for a free rental at work.”

He looks down at Robin, searching her face for any sign that it isn’t a good plan.

She nods, “Good. Now where are you going to take him?”

The answer to that one was simple, “Movie date at my place.”

Robin snorts, “A bit presumptuous, eh Stevie?”

The floaty feeling in his gut turns into a boulder, “I mean— That’s not what— Obviously I’d love it to—” he cuts himself off for the last time at the smirk on her face. “Oh fuck you.” He shakes his head in fond exasperation as he turns, heading back out of the bathroom.

Robin’s teasing him still when the back door opens and Eddie waltzes in, the round, decorative basket Joyce had been using to put all the apples people fished out of the barrel in his arms and a(nother? The same?) apple lodged in his teeth.

He spots them and puts the basket down on the island, spinning dramatically to lean onto the tabletop to face them.

His hand comes up to grab onto the apple, snapping off a bite and sucking away the juice as he takes it away from his mouth, “Hey Stevie, Birdie,” he says over a mouthful of crunching fruit.

Steve blinks once, then turns to Robin, “I’m not going to survive 'till tomorrow.”

Before she or Eddie can react, Steve is striding across the room and pulling his sodden friend to him in a tart, apple-flavored kiss.

Robin says something about being lookout, but Steve’s too busy feeling Eddie’s mouth on his.

Until Eddie pulls back that is.

“Shit– Eddie, I’m so sorry, I—” Steve stops when Eddie’s finger comes up between them.

Eddie chews once, twice, a third, then swallows down the rest of his bite.

Ah.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes once his mouth is clear. “Now, where were we?” He tosses the apple over his shoulder and descends upon Steve once again.

divider from @saradika-graphics!

[m0llygunn]

the alligator and the weirdo (eddie munson x fem!reader)

eddie shares some of his imaginative thoughts that he has during intimate moments

cw: 18+! mature language, smut, oral (f receiving), eddie being an absolute weirdo (affectionate) an: i was reading comments on an ig post months ago and there were so many guys who were talking about the alligator thing so yeah thanks random instagram guys for this idea wc: 2.2k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Wanna hear something that you’ll hate?” 

Turning your head, you look at Eddie laying the short distance away from you in the bed. The rubix cube that was keeping him busy has been tossed to the side and he smiles toothily at you, brows wiggling as he awaits your answer. Bad news— abort immediately.  

“No,” you answer flatly. You move your book to block his view of you but he quickly tugs it away, tucking it under his arm. 

“Well, apple of my eye, love of my life,” he starts, smiling wider than ever. You don't even bother trying to get your book back, you know it's no use. Mawkishly corny, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it and you know whatever he's about to say is going to be awful with the way he's working up to it. He looks up at you, “Today is your lucky day, because I’m going to tell you anyway,” he finishes. 

“Is it actually something I’m going to hate?” you sigh.

“Yes,” he smiles, thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand that he continues to hold, keeping it hostage in his grip.

You pause, desperately trying to read him. He doesn’t give much away, just that he’s up to no good. 

Unsure and honestly afraid, you tilt your head, “but is it going to piss me off?” you ask, needing a sincere answer. 

“You won’t be angry, per se” he replies, voice pitching up with his dramatics.

“Then why would I hate it?” you retort. 

He shrugs so boyishly you almost forget to keep up your attitude. “You’re just going to hate it,” he sings matter of factly. 

“Eddie,” you whine. He squeezes your hand to his chest, rolling his eyes at you playfully. 

Tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night, he promised you that. It was supposed to be quiet and chill– you were going to read, and he was going to… do something? Anything that he could do quietly. Obviously, he's changed his mind and has now resorted to teasing you. 

“Fine, fine, you got me— I’ll tell you,” he huffs as if you’ve threatened him. Dramatic, dramatic, dramatic.  

Speaking of dramatic, you swat him lightly for his antics, smacking your free hand to his chest and he overreacts, throwing his head back into the pillow with a pained howl. His face, scrunched up in faux pain, quickly changes to a desperate plea, eyes wide and brows turning up. 

“No! Please, I already said I’d tell you. Please, no need for violence— I’ll tell you!” he rushes out, putting his hands together in a prayer to you. With a shake of your head, disapproving his boisterous behaviour, you hold back your smile by biting your lip. 

“I’m going home,” you threaten. With your hand free from his grasp seeing as he has resorted to pleaing prayers, you move to roll over him to get off the bed. 

“No, you can’t!” he reacts quickly, grabbing both your wrists and pulling them to his chest, keeping you pulled taut against him. “You can’t go, I haven’t told you yet.”

“So spit it out,” you whine. 

“Fine,” he huffs with a played up annoyance. He rolls his eyes and you purse your lips in disbelief. Disbelief for the moment, disbelief for the mood he's in. 

“Just sit here, and I’ll tell you, okay?” he smirks, dropping his grasp on your wrists but quickly grabbing your legs, pulling at you until your knees bracket his hips and you’re straddling him. You don't resist, figuring that if it truly is something you hate, you'll have the extra leverage to throw yourself off the bed and book it out of his room. 

Shooting him a quick warning look, he finally gets to telling you his oh-so-anticipated thought. 

“So,” he begins. “You know when I’m eating you out?”

Blinking your eyes slowly, you resist throwing yourself off the bed already. Definitely not the direction you thought this was going in.

Eddie smiles up at you, waiting for your answer. 

“Yes, I think I’m quite familiar with that, thank you,” you respond, keeping your voice purposefully flat. 

“Well, you know when I’m eating you out and I’m just doing such a good job that you can’t stay still?”

“Eddie,” you laugh. He raises his brows, awaiting your answer yet again to continue. “Yes. Yes, I am also quite familiar with that.”

“And when you can’t stay still, I hold your hips?”

“Eddie, I swear to god you better spit it out,” you huff, trying to hold back your laugh as you smack a flat palm to his chest again. He grins at you, eyes excited and filled with amusement. 

“So, I’m eating you out, holding your hips, and then you’re still squirming around everywhere so I’m like, wrestling you?”

“You’re not wrestling me,” you laugh.

“But I am,” he smiles, raising a brow at you. 

“You’re not… you’re just holding me,” you offer abashedly. He shakes his head with verve, and you nod your own head contradictingly. With a small wave of his hand, he continues. 

“Well, just wait for the next part,” he smiles. “So I’m wrestling you, and then your legs start closing around my head—”

“Okay.” you interrupt. “I think that’s enough,” you say, feeling your cheeks start to heat up from his brashness. Obviously you know how the whole event goes, you don't need him to break it down for you in a play by play. 

“No, I’m finally getting to it!” he laughs, hands squeezing at your hips. 

You flash him a forced annoyed glare, prompting him to continue with a lift of your brows. He dips his head in a nod, smirking, and he finally delivers his punchline, words dripped in glee and an air of proudness. 

“Whenever your legs start squeezing my head, sometimes I pretend I’m holding open the jaws of an alligator.”

“What?” you scoff, eyes narrowing in confusion. Surely you heard him wrong. 

“It’s true,” he nods matter-of-factly. “I imagine a big ol’ alligator trying to clamp my head in it’s jaw, and I’m fighting for my life, trying to hold its mouth open,” he repeats, holding his arms out wide, energetically miming the struggle of keeping an alligator's jaw open. 

So you didn't hear him wrong?

That’s what he’s thinking about when he’s giving you head? 

Mortifying. Shocking. Not surprising— it is Eddie after all. 

He finds your right hand, laying it down flat to his chest, pressing it firmly with both his hands overtop of it. Grounding you to him— nope— making sure you don’t leave is more like it.

“You’re strong, you know that?” he says with wide eyes. “You prance around here, needing me to open jars, and carry your bags, but I swear to god you’re stronger than me. Super-strength,” he says with a wiggle of his brows. 

“You… you are so…” You’re at a loss of words. All you can do is shake your head, and feel your mouth go dry as you stare at him, astonished that this is what he decided to tell you. Never in a million years would you have guessed that’s what he’s thinking.

He opens his mouth and it only gets worse. “Sometimes I pretend it’s a bear trap too,” he adds.

“Stop.”

“Or it’s like Excalibur. You know Excalibur don't you? Its like I’m King Arthur and keeping your legs open is like I’m pulling the sword from the stone—”

“Stop,” you say with a more bewildered urgency, pressing your palm to his mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile, crows feet deepening as he looks at you, eyes squinting with his amusement. 

He mumbles something under your hand but you can’t make it out— you don’t want to make it out. 

“Weird. You’re weird. You’re so weird.” you finally spit out through your shock. He licks your palm and you pull away with a repulsed squeal, wiping the dampness onto his shirt. 

“I make you cum, don’t I?” he asks, smug as ever. 

“But why are you thinking of that while you’re doing it?” you ask, riddled with mystified shock. 

“I don’t know… just kind of thought of it one day and went with it,” he shrugs. “It’s kind of good though– distracts me from blowing my load before I’ve even got it in.”

With heavy blinks, you give yourself a minute to absorb what he’s just told you. Closing your gaping mouth, you swallow back your bafflement. This was supposed to be a relaxing night– not Eddie baring his weird soul night. 

“Well… you were right, I hate it.”

“You love it,” he grins. 

“Hate it,” you emphasize. 

“Oh, but you love me, don’t you?” he retorts with his un-wipeable grin.

“We’re getting divorced.”

“Is this you saying you wanna get married? ‘cause we gotta get married first if you want a divorce,” he smirks, grabbing at your sides, tickling you. Taking his hands in your grasp, you stop him before he can really get started with the tickling, pushing his hands away and returning them to his chest with your so-called ‘super-strength’.

“I’m giving you two choices Munson– you take me home right now, or we stop talking about this,” you say with the best sternness you can muster. Oh to be reading your book peacefully, cuddling in the quietness of the room that was once promised to you. 

He doesn't like your ultimatum, you can tell right away with the way his face drops. 

“But you were gonna stay the night,” he pouts, purposefully over-jetting out his lower lip.

“Yeah and I want to stay the night,” you respond, tilting your head at him. 

“So stay the night,” he nearly whines. Like a punishment, you let him sit in his pout for an extra moment. You could hope that he's thinking over where this all went wrong, but you know he's not. Under all that pout he's still smug as hell, it's in his nature. 

“Are you going to keep talking about your weirdo imagination?” you finally break the silence.

“I thought you liked my imagination?” he says, lower lip pushing out even further, trembling slightly as he continues his overdramatic pouting, his eyes round with an innocence that he could never possess.  

“I do,” you promise. “But not when it’s working overtime while you're going down on me. I’m not an alligator or a bear trap… or some magical sword and stone— Eddie literally who thinks of that?” you can’t help but smile, shaking your head with a regrettable mirth. 

“See, I’m funny. You’re laughing.” Smug.

“You’re weird.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Later that night…

His tongue flits back and forth, sending shock waves of pleasure through your system. 

“You like that?” he hums against you. 

“G-good. Really good,” you reply through huffed breaths. Your stomach tenses, breaths staggering as you feel your impending orgasm approaching. 

You stayed the night, no surprise to you or Eddie. One thing led to another, and hours later, your earlier conversation long forgotten, Eddie was between your thighs, racking pleasure throughout your whole body with his tongue on your clit.

His fingers pushed deep inside of you, massage upwards, stroking against your walls, rubbing perfectly at that euphoria inducing spot— you can’t take it, it feels too good, too much. 

Your hands, weaved into his hair, resort to an odd combination of pushing him away and pulling him forward. Running from the pleasure but chasing it at the same time. 

His lips seal over your clit, sucking, mimicking the throb that trembles through your body. You go ridgid, sliding over your tipping point. Your legs tense, closing inwards as your body gives in to instinct, not having a single thought in your brain at the moment. Every muscle tenses harshly before your spasm begins, limbs shaking and moving all at their own accord.

Hips stuttering, jolting back and forth with your release, a heavy hand closes around your thigh, pinning it to the bed.

“The alligator! She’s back,” Eddie exclaims but you have less than a microbe of steady consciousness to parse his words properly. His fingers continue wiggling inside of you, thumb moving itself to your clit as he continues busying his mouth with his ramblings that you’re too foggy headed to understand. You think for a moment there might have been a pirate impression with an argh, but that can't be right. 

A deep, sputtering inhale, your lungs fill, clearing your lust filled brain. His movements slow, and your body relaxes little by little, melding into the mattress until you’re just a puddle of a person. 

“And that’s another win for me,” Eddie announces smugly.

“Hm?” you hum, still in a daze.

“I defeated the alligator— yet again.” he says boisterously.

You blink your eyes open to see Eddie smirking from cheek to arousal glistening cheek. At first, what he said doesn’t make sense, but then it all clicks.

An absolute loss of words. You’ve never been so dumbfounded to not have a single word— not even earlier when he first brought up his colorful, unusual thoughts. Never. 

Eddie recognizes this because he lets himself fall to your side, pulling you into him, maneuvering you like a rag doll until you're halfways on his chest, face to face, wrapping his arm around your waist.  

“You know I’m funny,” he teases, stealing a kiss from you. He pulls back, looking beyond pleased with himself. “You love me,” he sings with a cheesy grin, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Full of mortification and disconcertment, your love for him is undeniable. You love him through and through, and unfortunately that includes his inopportune imagination. 

“I’m in love with an absolute weirdo,” you confess. 

──────────── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ty for reading!

[luveline]

I've read your vampire eddie fic and its soo lovely I adore them being weird toghether <3 and I thought how will reader and eddie pass the summer? I totally see her saying shit like Vlad please put on some sunscreen lol and eddie be so grumpy

“It’s not that you don’t like it,” you’re saying. 

“No, that’s exactly what it is.” 

You sit down on the picnic blanket by his hip with a plate of summer fruit sweating in your hands. You’ve dotted a few ice cubes through the mountains of it, water melting, turning pink from the melon and yellow with the pineapple juice as the sun bears down.

“The sun is good for you,” you say, taking a slice of apple with green, bright rind in between two fingers. You have very pretty hands, Eddie’s thought that ever since you met, and they’re prettier still because of how you use them, you’re oh so gentle. “Just like this.” 

He won’t let you feed him, taking the apple as you press it to his lips, juice and water wetting his fingers. “The sun does nothing for me. I’m dead.” 

“Are you?” you ask, a genuine curiosity to your tone as you put the plate in front of him. Eddie, on his front, anticipates your next move before you’ve decided, not just because of his super senses but also because you’re a predictable creature, who loves him very much. Unlikely and true. “I thought you were only half dead,” you say, resting a hand by his ribs and leveraging yourself across his back in a hug. “Well, I thought you were undead.” 

Eddie is regrettably undead. “I forgot you were the expert on my condition,” he says, putting the apple slice in his mouth whole.

“Your condition,” you say, your face slotting into the back of his neck, forcing him to close his eyes and settle into the blanket, grass beneath it crisp from the heat. 

“My vampirism.” 

“Ah, I thought you meant your behavioural issues.” 

“Of course you did.” 

You don’t say anything back. Quiet, your hands slide up in front of his armpits, your head lolling heavily to one side. You mouth a word against his neck, a second and third, but Eddie can’t decipher what it is you’re saying even with his incredible hearing, can only feel the soft curve of your lips as they shutter closed, hot like a fresh bruise beneath his ear. 

Eddie nudges you to slide off of him, turning, cautious of the plate, to offer you his arm, and to see your face more clearly. You’ve forgone any of your fun makeups today, weary of the heat, all your wrinkles and lines in stunning detail under his gaze.

You lay on your side and Eddie lifts the arm that isn’t supporting him with his finger bent into a tight ‘n’ to stroke the skin under your chin. “You’re pretty,” he says, his knuckle rubbing back and forth. 

“You’re beautiful,” you say back. The hair at the nape of your neck is damp with sweat, and as you both lay there in the humidity, a bead of it races suddenly to sink into the fabric of your top. 

“You’re really pretty,” he says, ignoring your deflection —though for you, he doubts it’s a deflection at all, only a thought you’d had and spoken without qualm— in favour of lavishing you with some more love and praise. He opens his palm and touches his fingertips to your cheek, conscious of the heat, stringing the words together slow as the heavy pour of a maple tapper, “I don’t like the sun, it’s hot, and I’m melting, but I don’t think I mind it when you’re here too.” 

Your heart does a jump, to his smugness, an audible caper of your pulse. “Everything’s better when we’re together,” you say. 

He nods severely and lifts your chin just a touch, tilting his head to the side to kiss you. The pressure of his fangs is forgotten, a blood sate too far away to ignore the more nefarious longing that thrums at the centre of his chest, but overpowered anyways by practice, and desire; he’s gotten a thousand times better at kissing you, because you like to be kissed, and he likes to give you anything he can. 

He can’t pretend he doesn’t like this, either. You cover his hand with yours and wade in like a quick tide, pulling back and pushing in, like nips without the pain. Your hand slips into his hair. “I love you,” you say, “but you’re sweating like crazy.” 

“You’re sweating worse,” he says. 

“We’ll have to take a vacation.” 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Literally everywhere cold.” 

Eddie can’t leave Hawkins. He needs blood, and there’s only one sheriff who’s willing to source it for him. But it’s a nice idea, a fantasy he won’t ruin for you. “Where’d you want to go first?” 

“I wanna go to that place with the Northern Lights. We’d never complain about sweating again.” 

You squint at him. 

“What?” he asks. 

“Where do you want to go?” you ask. 

“Anywhere with you.” 

“Well, you’d have to.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” he asks. 

“I’m your only portable blood bag, Eddie.” 

He lays back on his back, covering his eyes with an arm as the other comes to rest on his soft stomach, whirl of a scar thick beneath his shirt. “Never gonna happen.” 

You shuffle closer to him. “One day,” you say, laying down next to him with your face nearly flat to the blanket, the heat of your body a palpable thickness he wouldn’t change for the world, dehydration inevitable. “You’ll give me a nice sharp kiss and that’ll be that.” 

“Never.” 

“Imagine it.” Your voice turns to a whisper. 

“Never, babe,” he says, he promises, the weight of his arm over his eyes like an iron. 

“I’ll just have to bite you instead.” 

You open your mouth and press your teeth to the hill of his shoulder, dull and wet, your breath like a kiss before you let your lips drift shut and give him a proper one. “Love you,” you say. 

“Love you, freakazoid.” He wrestles you into a cuddle he’ll regret sooner rather than later, wishing his vampirism were better at keeping him cool. He’s cold to the touch most of the time. Right now he’s baking. “But I’m not biting you,” he says into your forehead. 

You laugh breezily. “Not today you’re not. That’s why I made fruit salad.” 

[lovebugism]

shy!reader wiggling her way into eddie lap bc she had a hard day 😫

You don’t know how to tell Eddie you miss him.

He’s sitting in bed right next to you, scribbling down notes in a worn composition notebook. You don’t even know why you miss him, only that the couple of inches separating you from him feels cavernous.

You don’t know what to say, so you sigh. A big, deep exhale that makes your chest deflate like a popped balloon. It’s sort of what you feel like, anyway.

Eddie’s chin brushes his shoulder as he turns to you, chocolate eyes wide beneath his clear-framed glasses. 

He knows that certain sounds mean certain things, kind of like a baby’s cry. You don’t know what you want a lot of the time — you know less how to express that you don’t know what you want — so Eddie’s learned to read you like a book. Most of the time, he knows what’s going on in your head before you do.

But the grieving breath you let out now is too ambiguous for him to understand. It’s too soft to be one of frustration, too drawn out to be contentment. He decides to check the boxes.

“Are you hungry?” he murmurs.

You shake your head in response, focusing on the book in your hand but not any of the words.

“Sleepy?” he asks. “‘Cause I, for one, could totally go for a nap right now, princess.”

You shake your head again, smiling a little this time at his word choice.

“Bored?”

Another head shake.

Eddie gives up. “A feeling neither of us can name because we don’t know what it is?”

You nod.

“I don’t think it even existed before now,” you mutter, half-joking.

The boy laughs. His pink lips match the apples of his cheek. You don’t know how to tell him you want to press your faces together until you’re made of the same vibrant colors he is.

“Is it cabin fever, you think? I’ve kept you hostage here for, like, two days now. Maybe you’re gettin’ sick of me.”

“You’re not holding me hostage. I asked to come over,” you remind him, giggling softly to yourself. “And I could never get sick of you, Eds. You know that.”

You lean over to nudge his shoulder with your own. Instead of sitting back up again, you linger just against him. You find you feel a lot better now, finally touching him. The gnawing feeling is less loud but still there.

Eddie smiles in silent understanding. “Wanna hug?”

A beat passes. You feel a little bit lame for wanting it so desperately. You nod anyway.

Eddie sighs as he sets his notebook on the mattress beside him. It’s not an unhappy one. It’s not an underwhelmed one, either. It’s just a breath, really — a clean, deep inhale-exhale he can finally take, knowing you’re about to be in his arms.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he ushers with his arms spread open. “My body’s always free real estate for you.”

“Ew,” you giggle at the unintentional connotation, sliding closer to him. You duck your burning face away from his in attempts to hide the wide smile on your mouth. Eddie sees it anyway and grins back.

He lazes against the headboard while you settle against his chest, one hand wedged between your bodies and the other curling around his side. You tuck your face into the curls at his neck. He smells like nicotine and floral shampoo and skunk weed. You don’t know how to tell him you need him to lay all his weight on top of you until his natural scent becomes your own.

His chin rests on the crown of your head. He smooths a hand up and down your back. “Is this what you wanted? Just needed my strong arms to feel better, huh? Is that it?”

You know he’s joking, but you don’t laugh. You shrug. “Kinda…”

“Kinda?” he echoes. His contorted face is audible. “Do you need something else?”

He’s not bothered by it, the fact that you want something more — just curious as to how he can make you feel better.

“I don’t know…” you murmur, wriggling against him like you can’t get comfortable. “It’s just… I need to be closer, I think.”

“Closer, huh?” Eddie muses, wrapping his arms more intently around you and squeezing you tight. He presses his lips to your hair. “Honestly, I don’t know if we can get any closer than this… Well. I mean, we could, but I have a feeling that’s not what you want…”

You shake your head against his chest at the implication. You need everything but the sex right now — the holding, the contact, the tangled limbs.

“No, I just… I think I just need to… I don’t know…” you mutter, almost inaudibly into his chest. You hold him tighter. “Would it be okay if I…”

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his bangs as you trail off. You’re getting better at it, at vocalizing when you need something, but the words are hard to form sometimes, and he gets it. He did fail senior year English two times, after all. 

“You don’t have to ask for anything, you know?” he assures, practically cooing, punctuating his words with a kiss to the top of your head. “Whatever you want, you can just take it. It’s all good with me, babe.”

His words give you a minimal boost of confidence. 

You part from him, lips pursed to the side of your mouth. Eddie eyes you attentively with slow and owlish blinks behind the thick lenses of his glasses. You don’t know how to tell him you want to swim in his chocolate syrup gaze or taste the stars that twinkle inside them.

“I just wanna, like…” you trail off. You never end up finishing your sentence, actually. Without words to describe the overwhelming, unnamed feeling, you just crawl into Eddie’s lap and wrap around him like a koala.

Your thighs settle on either side of his hips, arms curling around his neck as you tuck your face into his wild hair again, pressing your chest intently against his own. 

Eddie sighs into your shoulder; it trembles like a faint laugh. His palm smooths over your back, pushing you further against him until the laws of physics prevent either of you from coming any closer.

You exhale slowly. For the first time, Eddie feels you relax against him.

“Is this better?” he mumbles into your cheek.

You nod into the side of his.

Your chests move together with each of your slow, even breaths — rising for a few seconds, stilling for a moment, then falling for a couple more. You think your hearts might be beating in the same rhythm, too.

That gnawing feeling behind your ribcage turns to sunlight.

[r3dmooon]

Secret Admirer — Wally Darling x gn! reader

summery: reader starts getting love letters in the mail. join them to figure out just who could it be!

wc: 1.5k

Master List

“Eddie, nice to see you!” I greeted with a wave. “I was just going to check my mailbox.” 

Eddie replied with a chuckle, “Well you’re right on time.”

“I’m guessing you got something for me?” I asked curiously.

“Got it right here,” Eddie beamed warmly, only to accidentally drop a few letters in his excitement. “Shoot!”

I laughed lightly, “It’s okay, here let me help.” I bent down and helped him gather the letters. Once everything was in order once more, Eddie managed to hand me the letter without any more problems. I looked down at the red envelope, my first name written in a fancy bubbly cursive. Little hearts were drawn next to my name as well. I looked up at Eddie with surprise, a knowing expression resting on his face.

“See ya around,” He waved, already walking off.

“Bye,” I replied absent mindedly, gaze falling back to the letter. Whoever wrote this definitely put their heart into it. I tried to open the envelope as nicely as I could, and quickly took out the letter. Reading it made my heart flutter. I felt a bit more self conscious, but in a good way. I felt more attractive. I put the letter away in a safe spot, feeling giddy. A secret admirer, who would’ve guessed? 

I felt light as I made the trek to Sally’s place. I promised her that I’d help paint sets for her newest play. 

“Hey…” Sally trailed off. “Something going on?”

I waved her off, my mind clouded with that mysterious letter of admiration, “It’s nothing.” 

She gave me a disbelieving look, “You look like you’re in la la land.” 

“Is it that obvious?” I asked embarrassed. “I mean…it’s not a big deal…I got this letter today.”

“What kind of letter?” Sally asked, handing me an apron and paint brush. 

I tied the apron and got started on the backdrop and whispered back, “A love letter.”

“Really!” Sally exclaimed, her eyes seeming to have stars in them. “That’s just like the next play I’m doing! Who’s it from?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied honestly. “The signature was from ‘your secret admirer’.”

The rest of the day went on. Joking around with Sally, we were nearly complete with the backdrop, but the sun started setting. I kept trying to think of who could possibly think of me like that. Would they send me another letter tomorrow? Eddie seemed to know…but I know he’d never tell me who. I let out a sigh as I laid in bed. I stared up at the ceiling blankly. I was too excited to sleep. 

The next morning, I woke up as energetic as ever. I dressed up a bit more than usual, styled my hair to the best of my ability and checked myself out in the mirror to make sure I looked alright. Anticipation running through me, I dashed outside. I didn’t see Eddie, and I checked my mailbox just in case. My smile fell as it was empty. But I quickly shook the disappointment away. I got a letter, my name plastered right on it! Someone here admired me! 

…

Unless it was a joke…

No, don’t think like that. I needed to head to Howdy’s Place anyway. I woke up earlier than normal today. Maybe a new letter will show up once I get back. The gentle sound of a bell ringing sounded as I opened the door to Howdy’s shop. 

“Hiya (y/n)!” Howdy greeted with a wave. His other hands put apples in a basket. 

“Why hello friend,” Wally smiled. 

“Hello guys,” I smiled. Walking around, I grabbed items I was getting low on at home.

“You got plans today?” Howdy asked as I placed the items on the counter. I noticed that Wally didn’t leave yet, idly standing by his basket of apples that were also on the counter. 

“No,” I shook my head. “Why?”

“You’re dressed more fancy than usual,” Howdy shrugged, bagging my items. “So, what do you got for me today?”

“Why do cows wear bells?” I asked, pausing before continuing. “Because their horns don’t work!”

Howdy let out a laugh, pushing the bag towards me, but I jumped in surprise at Wally’s laugh. I kept forgetting that he’s here! He’s being so quiet, which I suppose isn’t too unusual due to how lively our friends are. I smiled at the two sheepishly, was my joke really that funny? 

“Thank you kindly,” Howdy grinned as I grabbed the bag.

“Thank you,” I replied with a nod. Turning towards the door, I smiled at Wally. “Walk with me?” I offered as he seemed to be waiting for me to be done shopping. 

“I would love to, friend,” Wally replied back. The sun shone brightly above us as we exited the shop. I smiled a bit at the nice weather. I turned my gaze to Wally, only to find him already looking at me. 

“The weather sure is lovely,” I spoke up.

“Yes,” Wally agreed. “Days like these always give me inspiration.” We conversed some more before we arrived at my house. I checked the mailbox on instinct and my smile widened at the sight. Another red envelope sat waiting. 

“What’s that?” Wally asked and I tensed as I felt him look from beside me. I shoved the envelope in my paper bag and laughed awkwardly.

“Oh, nothing,” I dismissed. I felt a bit shy under his stare, it felt…intense. It was like I couldn’t look away. 

“It was lovely walking with you, friend,” Wally commented. 

“You too,” I smiled back. “I’ll see you around.”

Wally nodded in acknowledgement and I went into my house. I put away the food first before taking the envelope and sitting on my couch. I stared at the familiar cursive lettering of my name. I opened it excitedly and the letter was even sweeter than the last one! Gah, why can’t they just tell me who they were? 

I was kind of hoping it was Wally. I mean how could I not? He was charming, lovely, and a pleasure to be around! It didn’t help that he seemed to always pay attention to me. Sally even brought it up before. I just wanted to give him a peck on the cheek!

What if it wasn’t him though? The thought made my stomach fall flat. I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I liked Wally…I looked down at the letter in slight guilt. This person seemed to really care and like me in a way I’ve never received before…would I really give that away for Wally? Is it just the attention I like? Geeze, I need to calm down. This is only the second letter and I’m making up crazy scenarios. All I can really do is see where this will go. Maybe I should go talk to Sally? 

“Eddie!” I shouted, glad I was able to catch him as he delivered me another red envelope. It’s been a week, and I felt myself fall more and more for this mystery person who has been adamant on sending me these letters. Each one made me swoon, wishing I could know who seemed to like me so strongly. 

“Hello (y/n),” Eddie greeted back with a bright grin. “How are you this cloudy morning?”

“Terrible,” I pouted. Eddie looked a bit concerned at first but lightened up as I continued, “I need to know who's sending me these letters!”

“Now now,” Eddie chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll tell you in their own time.”

“I know,” I groaned. “I just want to meet them so badly.” 

“All in due time,” Eddie smiled, tipping his hat slightly before continuing on his way. I let out an over dramatic sigh. 

���What seems to be the problem, friend?” The familiar voice of Wally spoke up. I turned to him, startled. He always managed to sneak up on me and I wasn’t sure how he did it. I looked at the letter I held in reflex, debating on whether or not to tell him. Wally was a great friend, but so far the only people who knew were Sally and Eddie. “I’ve seen you with those red envelopes a few times,” Wally hummed in observation. “Who's been writing to you? A pen pal?”

“Not exactly,” I mumbled, feeling shy about the topic. “A secret admirer.”

“My my,” Wally teased lightly. “Someone’s become famous. Join me for a walk?”

“Okay,” I agreed, shoving the letter in my pocket. “Any idea who it is?”

“I might,” Wally grinned mischievously. 

My mouth fell open and I huffed out, “Does everyone know but me?”

“Ha, ha, ha,” Wally laughed. “No.” 

I frowned, eyebrows furrowing in thought, “Did they tell you?”

“Silly silly,” Wally teased. “I’m a bit bashful to confess this, but I’ve been the one sending you those letters.” I stopped in my tracks and stared at him in shock. He turned around and tilted his head a bit, his gaze holding light concern. 

“I hope I wasn’t overstepping,” Wally apologized.

I quickly shook my head, “No, no.” I can’t believe the person who holds my affections was actually Wally Darling. The cool and collected (not to mention skilled and stylish) Wally! 

Wally’s smile returned, his gaze never wavering, “I’m glad you feel the same.”

“I said that out loud?” I cried out, hands over my mouth in shock. 

“Ha, ha, ha,” Wally laughed, stepping closer. “You are just so endearing.” 

My brain short circuited as Wally kissed my cheek.

[rottenaero]

The shoddy water fountain in the gymnasium stops working mid year, and the principal has found out about Eddie skipping and has assigned him someone to escort him to gym.

He’s has to do some suicides since he’s skipped so much and afterwards he’s exhausted. He needs water.

Except he didn’t bring a water bottle, and none of his friends are with him because this is senior gym. He looking for a stray un-opened water bottle, because Mr. Howard definitely isn’t gonna let his go back to the actual school for a fountain when Steve Harrington approaches him and offers his water bottle.

He eyes it suspiciously, “What’s in there?”

Steve raises a brow, “Water?”

“Could be poison, I’ll take my chances without it.”

“Here, look,” He flicks open the lid and throws his head back, taking a sip. Eddie watches his adams apple bob. Finally, the guy pulls away and wipes at the stray drops on his lips. “See? Not poison.”

He tilts it his way, and he can hear the water sloshing inside, and the clunks of ice against the metal.

Ice cold.

He grabs it, and tentatively takes a sip. It’s somehow the best water he’s ever had. He almost downs the whole thing before he remembers theres still half an hour of gym left.

“Shit, thanks man.”

Steve shrugs, “It’s no problem.”

And then it continues. Everyday without fail, he’d be without a bottle, and the water fountain would still be broken, then Steve would come to his rescue with ice cold h20.

Does this guy ever get sick?

During the last week of school, and his last day of gym, Steve approaches him, backpack still on. “Hey.”

He gives him a half-hearted wave. Steve shifts his weight onto his other foot and tales the bag off his back.

“I’ve uh, got you something.” He unzips the bag, and inside is a metal bottle with packaging still on it, he hand sit to him.

He examines it, and it’s the exact same brand as the other one.

“I don’t know where you’re going, or if you even are, but I thought you could use one to take around.”

“Are you serious?” Steve nods, “Yeah.”

“Thanks,” He tilts the bottle so it’s pointing at the other guy, “But uh, I feel kinda bad, didn’t get you anything.”

“Nah, those five colds I got from you were enough.”

[homiesexual-or-homosexual]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, kinda proofread, slight possessive eddie, basketball boy flirts with you, you and eddie aren't necessarily together, tit sucking, fingering and petting (fem receiving), protected p in v sex (stay safe!!), small bit of aftercare

Word Count: 2k

Summary: you’re pretty and a lot of boys in hawkins flirt with you, and your best friend eddie gets jealous

———

Eddie pissed. Super pissed. Leg shaking and cuticles shredded as he stares across the school cafeteria. He’s been watching you with narrowed eyes all day, through the morning and every shared class.

You’re pretty, undeniably. Pretty comes with pros, and cons. But what may be pros to others are cons to Eddie. The fact that you’re flirted with on the daily and that the boys of Hawkins High can’t keep their hands to themselves are all cons in Eddie’s eyes. They don’t know you like he does. He knows your favorite color, flower, music, and food. He knows you hate driving at night because you can’t see very well, and that you also hate driving when it’s full sun outside because it’s too harsh on your eyes. And he knows you like sleeping in way too late on the weekends because school just absolutely exhausts you to the point of passing out on Eddie’s bed as soon as you touch it.

Nobody knows you like Eddie does.

The metalhead chews on an apple slice as he watches you mingle at the jocks’ table, smiling at their stupid jokes. Your smile never reaches your eyes, he notes. But Eddie almost jumps from his seat when one of the jocks grabs and squeezes your upper inner thigh. He sees you glance down and squeeze your hands together, taking a step back to maintain space.

The end of lunch bell rung and students scurried from the room, along with yourself. You disappeared from Eddie's eyes as soon as you entered the hallway. Minus your shared 6th period, Eddie didn't see you until that evening. Well, evening for him.

It was already night outside, the sun long set and the full moon sat high up in the clear sky, shining down brightly on the front lawn outside your second-story bedroom window. You were in your pjs and had just gotten settled under your blankets, burying yourself in the comfort of the many layers before you heard the small squeak of your window being opened. You whirled around, seeing a hulking figure closing your window. You hurried and frantically grasped your bedside table lamp cords so you could see the figure.

Turning around, it was Eddie, still in the clothes he wore for school, including his classic leather jacket and denim vest combo. He shook out his hair, fluffing it out.

"Eddie?" You asked, sitting up on your bed. "What are you doing here? It's late."

"Late?" Eddie looked at your digital clock on your bedside table. "It's only 10 o'clock, sweetheart."

"Eddie, you know that's my bedtime," You argued, rubbing your eyes.

"You can stay up past your bedtime just this one time, baby," Eddie pressed, toeing off his shoes and making his way towards you.

"But-"

"It's Friday night sweetheart," Eddie purred, crawling on top of you. "You'll be okay."

"Fine," You shrunk back into your blankets the more Eddie pursued you. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Just came to see my favorite girl," The metalhead settled on your pelvis, keeping most of his pressure on his knees so to not crush you.

You hummed, laying fully back on your pillows. You watched Eddie peel off his jacket, dropping it on the floor beside your bed. He brought a hand down to cup your cheek and you couldn't help but lean into his large, warm hand, closing your eyes.

Before you could even get your eyes half open, you felt something slam into your face and against your lips, keeping a soft but firm pressure. You made a shocked noise and opened your eyes. Eddie was kissing you, his other hand coming up to grab your face. You relaxed into him, bringing your arms up around his neck to keep the boy close. You feel him pull away, but not very far. Eddie opens his mouth and you follow suit, allowing spit to mix and tongues to dance.

Slowly, you let your hands wander down, dancing over the fabric of Eddie's shirt to smooth the wrinkles. You grab the end of his shirt and begin to pull up and up. Up over his abdomen and up over his chest before Eddie pulls off of you to allow you to pull his t-shirt over his head and to be disposed on the floor.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Eddie leaned down, nudging your face to the side with his to nestle himself into your neck.

“You’re the one on top of me,” You replied, moving to give Eddie more access to your neck.

Eddie pressed messy, opened mouthed kisses along your neck, adding teeth about five kisses in. He kneads at your pillow on either side of your head, moving one hand to hold the backside of your neck. The metalhead pulls away slowly, sitting back on his haunches. His lips are shiny with spit and your neck is growing cold.

“Up,” Eddie orders.

You follow, doing your best to sit up with Eddie still sitting on your pelvis. He pulls your shirt up and off you, adding it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. The boy pauses once he realizes your braless, but not for too long before he’s leaning down to take your right nipple into your mouth, pawing and kneading at the other his his free hand. Eddie licks and bites and pulls at your nipple, whines and gasps leaving your mouth as your grip and pull at Eddie’s curls, his own groans vibrating against your skin.

He switches sides, giving the same treatment to your left nipple. Eddie pops off, both your nipples erect against the cold air, shiny with spit. He sits up, hands grabbing at your sides and yours slide down his side, settling on his upper jean-covered thighs.

“You’re so pretty,” Eddie compliments, eyes half-lidded, still in a tit-sucking haze. “You know that??”

You nod, sheepish.

"Good," He pats your cheek. "Now scoot over."

You scoot inwards, towards your bedroom wall. Eddie pulls back the covers as you do. He undos the button on your little sleep shorts that you wore to bed and shimmies them down your legs, you help him with the process and kick the shorts to the floor once you’re free of them. Your panties follow soon after, landing atop your shorts.

Eddie’s fingers delve between your thighs, spreading your slick and coating his fingers in them. He grazes his fingers over your clit and you can’t help but grab his upper arm.

“Always so nervous, sweet thing,” Eddie whispers, reading your mind. “You gotta let me go so I can make you feel good, ‘kay?”

You nod and let him go, keening once he starts moving his fingers again. You feel tense and relax at the same time, his finger tips pressing expertly against your clit. He switches between swirls and fast side to side motions. Your legs shake and you try your best to keep your hips still, but with every upstroke of his finger tips your hips can’t help but follow.

It isn’t long until your lower stomach begins to tighten and your thighs begin to shake more. Eddie knows, he watches, and keeps the same pace. And he watches as you start to babble. And then tightness reaches its peak in your lower stomach and it lets loose oh so suddenly, your moans growing in pitch and your hips absentmindedly ride Eddie’s hands. You babble out Eddie’s name as your high slowly dies out.

In a moment of weakness, Eddie slips a finger inside of you, feeling your wet walls spasm around the digit. The boy builds a gentle pace as your grip his upper forearm. After a few pumps, he pulls out and adds a second finger, wiggling them in a “come hither” motion as you relax. He gives you a few more pumps before stilling.

“Ready?” Eddie asks.

You nod, “Yeah.”

Eddie stands from your bed. He sheds the rest of his clothes and opens your nightstand drawer, searching for something. He pulls out a familiar, shiny blue square and tears it open, grabbing the condom from inside. You watch as he puts it on his red tinted cock and then he's climbing in between your legs. Before you both can get fully settled, he grabs one of your more fuller pillows and pats the side of your hip. You lift your hips and let Eddie place the pillow under them before you settle back down.

The metalhead moves to hover over you and places both of his hands on either side of your head. You reach between your bodies to help Eddie guide his cock into you. With a couple scooches forward and some readjusting, the head of his cock pops in. Slowly, it sinks in and without realizing it, you're holding your breath. When the head of the cock pushes comfortably against your cervix, you let out that breath with a little whine that grows in volume a bit when Eddie pushes impossibly closer.

You're comfortable after a few seconds Eddie pulls out and comes back in, all slow. He does that maybe two or three times before stilling again. You feel him shift his weight and suddenly, there's a warm palm against your throat, not pushing but just resting.

"You're mine," Eddie says, looking you in the eye. "You know that?"

"Yeah-um uh- yes," You stutter out, his words pulling you from the thoughtless headspace his wonderfully sized cock put you into.

"Good girl," Eddie purrs.

He starts fucking you again, picking up speed rather quick until both of you are breathing labored breaths and all that's coming from your mouth is whines and moans. The boy's hips slap against yours, the sound your background noise as the only thing you can focus on is Eddie's warmth that envelopes your whole body. He moves his hand from your throat and leans down and puts his face in your neck, giving you kisses until you move your head to the side.

When you make that open space for Eddie, he starts attacking. He's biting and licking. He clamps down on a couple spots and sucks, using teeth and tongue to add to the pressure. His mouth hurts wonderfully, making you mewl and claw at his back. The action is sure to leave both of your bodies temporarily marked for the next week.

Eddie voices his pleasure when you bite down on the juncture of his neck where it meets his shoulder, his groan vibrating into your muscle. He changed angles a bit, brushing against a rather sensitive spot inside you, a spot that makes your legs shake and your voice just a tad bit higher.

Soon enough, the metalhead pulls away. His hair is messy and his bangs stick to his forehead. His eyes look foggy from being closed for a prolonged amount of time, and the fact that he's been fucking you for who knows how long now. Eddie sits up, pulling your thighs against him as he keeps fucking into you. He's looking down at you and you almost shy away from his dark eyes.

"I'm gonna-" He pauses, sighs and swallows the spit from his mouth. "I'm gonna cum. Where-"

"Inside," You tell him, already knowing what he was going to ask.

Eddie nods and speeds up, he fingertips digging into your plush thighs. His breathing gets heavier and his thrusts get sloppier the closer he gets. Eddie cums with a open-mouthed groan, skin slapping against skin with how hard he's fucking into you now. You claw at his hands at the stimulation of the growing warmth and his speed. And it's not long before he slows down, stilling inside of you for a few moments before pulling out of you.

You watch as he pulls the condom off and ties the opening closed before he drops it in the trashcan that you keep not too far from your bed. You scoot over when Eddie turns. He all but flops on the bed, letting out a huge sigh. He turns on his side and pulls you close and into his sweaty chest.

"You're sweaty," You murmur, getting comfortable against Eddie's bare body, facing him.

"Yeah, so are you," He grumbles. "Now go to sleep. I'll take you to breakfast tomorrow."

"You gonna get up for that?" You ask, poking his side.

"I'll try," Eddie responds, poking you back.

You shake your head, relaxing against the large, warm body that's practically absorbing you into itself.

[penny00dreadful]

Somebody To Love - Part 4

Hey so AO3 went down and that kinda sucked BUT it did allow me to get some writing done soooo... here you go!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

The two children Steve had sent to replace him were god damn menaces.

Well, maybe not children but they were still so goddamn young.

And they didn’t let him get away with anything. Standing over him with their arms crossed and twin looks of disapproval on their faces like the god-damn Men in Black of babysitters.

He wasn’t, like, under house arrest or anything. He was still able to get his fix whenever he wanted. He was still able to drink himself into oblivion, but they didn’t handle him with as much care as Steve had.

He had numerous opportunities to go out and get laid six ways from Sunday as well but… he wasn’t really feeling it.

Though he refused to pinpoint why.

“You know, this would have never happened if you’d just show me the list.” Eddie crossed his own arms, trying to put as much petulant haughtiness into his tone as he could muster, lying where he landed in the grass of his back garden with his pants around his ankles. At least his underwear had stayed on.

This time.

How did he get there?

Didn’t matter.

That tree was out to get him. Fuck that tree. That tree was no longer his number two favourite climbing tree. It had been bumped down to number eight to go along with the tree that dropped an apple on his head like he was Newton and the tree that had covered him in sticky sap that took forever to get off.

The woman, Max, who perpetually had her red hair in a long braid down her back, cocked an eyebrow at him. “I don’t ever remember telling him he couldn’t see the list." She said with an air of nonchalance, looking over at her co-babysitter. "Do you, Dustin?”

“You know, I think you’re right, Max." Dustin matched her tone. "I think Eddie just assumed he wasn’t allowed to see it and ran with it.”

“Hey, fuck you, man." Eddie pointed up at him. "You're supposed to be on my side. Nerds of a feather.”

"I'm on the side of the truth. Like any good scientist."

"You're a babysitter."

Dustin shrugged. "And I have hobbies."

Max rolled her eyes. “Pull your pants back up like a good little boy and I’ll show you the list.”

“I could fire you on the spot, Red, don’t test me.”

She bent low, placing her hands on her knees so she was looming menacingly over him.

“Do it." She grinned down at him. "I fucking dare you.”

Eddie scoffed. "Whatever." 

But he did still stand, bucking his pants back up.

Despite everything he was loath to admit he really liked those two. They didn't take any of his shit and they treated him like a human person rather than some mythical celebrity they had to bow and scrape to.

He held his hand out expectantly.

“Oh, we don’t have it on us.” Max said, her eyes glittering with malicious glee. “It’s on the kitchen counter.”

“Fuck off 'it’s on the kitchen counter.'”

“No, it is.” Dustin nodded. “We put it there last week.”

“We’re keeping a running tally for how many times you’ve walked past it.”

“I think we’re up to fifteen now?”

Eddie did not stomp his foot. “That’s so not fair! You know I’m off my meds!”

“You’re off your meds because of the amount of recreational shit you imbibe. That’s on you." Dustin poked him in the chest. "Maybe if you were sober for five minutes you’d have noticed it.”

Eddie turned his back on them and started to make his way towards the house. They might have had a point as to why he was off his ADHD meds but Eddie was a stubborn fucker so he’d never admit it to them.

He snatched up the list that he genuinely only just noticed for the first time because it was pointed out to him and eagerly read through Steve’s recognisable handwriting.

It was a lot shorter than he thought it would be but also it kind of covered everything?

Make sure he keeps himself alive.

Don’t let him do stupid shit.

Don’t let him kill himself with:

Alcohol poisoning.

Drug overdose.

Some super fucked up STD.

Eating shellfish by accident again.

Chasing a balloon into traffic or whatever.

If you have to put him in a protective bubble, do it.

Max, if he gets mean, get meaner.

Dustin, if he tries to worm his way out of listening to you by claiming to be ‘cool’, remind him of the time he wore a plain black suit to the Met Gala-

“Okay!” Eddie shouted into the kitchen around him, slamming the list back down with a smack. “Low fucking blow, Steve!”

“I mean, it’s true isn’t it?” Max pointed out, pulling herself up to sit on the counter.

“Listen,” he ran a hand through his hair, keeping his volume high, “It was one time and it was my first Met, I was nervous, alright?! Plus! It wasn’t even a plain black suit, it was Chanel, hello??” He waved his hand around. “It had accessories??”

Dustin leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his chin in his hands. “Steve wore yellow.”

“Yes, I know Steve wore yellow-”

“He wore a beautifully cut little yellow suit with a cape and he wasn’t even there as your plus one,” Max smirked, “he was there as your assistant and he was still better dressed than you.”

“Alright-”

“Rhianna complimented him. Said great minds think alike.”

“She was in nothing but a cape so-” Eddie threw his head back in offence. “Whatever, good luck keeping up with me, children. I’m gonna go find some prawns or some scallops and you two,” he pointed at each of them in turn, “can explain my big fat puffy face to Steve when he gets back in a few days.”

Neither of them were even remotely phased.

Eddie was practically rattling by the time Steve was due to fly back in from… wherever he’d been. Even though he probably wouldn’t see him immediately.

Like, the guy had his own home to go to, his own stuff to get reacquainted with.

His own platonic soulmate to reunite with.

So why would he call over? Steve had his own life. He had no... no obligation to come see Eddie immediately.

And that was fine.

Eddie would see him tomorrow, more than likely.

So it was no big deal.

It was fine.

It had been nearly a month since they’d spoken. It was the longest stretch of time they’d gone apart in… Jesus nearly ten years?

And Eddie had handled it fine. 

He had been so normal about it.

It wasn’t like he’d been missing a limb.

It wasn’t like half his heart had been ripped out and shipped off on a plane to wherever.

Wasn't like he'd been thinking about Steve every day, every night, every spare fucking moment he had.

Why would he?

He was... it was all... everything was fine.

He was sitting in his basement studio, plucking a stream of consciousness on his guitar that sometimes crystallised into something coherent and sometimes was something that was stuck in his head.

He looked like a ratty mess, the same worn out pyjama pants and band tees that had been with him ever since he lived in a trailer park in rural Indiana.

They were comfort clothes more than anything at this stage.

His hair… he couldn’t be dealing with his hair right now, it seemed to be out to irritate him on that particular day. Every time a strand brushed against his neck or his cheek it made him want to crawl out of his skin. He’d yanked it violently up onto the top of his head, but each repeated, frustrated shoving of a stray strand back into the bun just caused more to fall out.

He was trying desperately to distract himself but his blood was itching for… something.

He hadn’t had a good fix in a while, he wanted to be sober and clear headed for when he saw Steve again but the heightened anxiety really wasn’t helping the situation. He didn’t usually get so twitchy when he was sober, but then again, he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d been actively trying to stay away from everything. 

And maybe that shocked him a little more than it should.

Maybe it scared him just the right amount.

But it could easily be a losing battle because there were hidden nooks and crannies everywhere in his house holding some kind of mind altering substance in them. Even on the couch in his studio he could probably reach down in between the cushions and pull out a baggy of pills he'd forgotten down there at some point. He didn’t even know what half the pills he found dotted around were anymore, they could be sugar for all he knew but they were there and they wouldn’t stop whispering to him.

He wasn’t even conscious of what he was playing. It was only when he realised he was muttering lyrics to himself that he figured out what was living in his brain and automatically spilling out around him.

Somebody (Somebody) Ooh, somebody (Somebody) Can anybody find me somebody to love?

Eddie softly snorted to himself, a little self deprecatingly. Oh, the irony, he thought, especially considering-

“That’s my favourite.”

Eddie whipped around to see Steve fucking Harrington leaning against the door of his studio.

He looked, well, there was no word for it other than glowing. His skin was darker, his hair a touch lighter, the dusting of freckles over his nose had exploded in volume and pigmentation and he looked good. He looked so good. 

More than that, it was like he’d brought the sunlight back with him because he’d clearly been somewhere sunny, maybe on a tropical beach somewhere. Somewhere that suited him as a person.

It was like the smell of the ocean entered the room with him.

“Stevie!” Eddie shot up from the couch, discarding his guitar a little carelessly before all but throwing himself at him, arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging on for dear life. “You’re back! You’re here!”

Steve stiffened up momentarily, unusually, before relaxing into it, holding him tight. “I’m here.” He muttered softly into Eddie’s neck.

“Tell me everything sweetheart, how was it? Where did you go? What was it like not to have to run around after an overgrown toddler such as myself-?” Eddie pulled away with a smile, back on solid ground but his grin faltered when he noticed Steve’s own smile had an almost sad tilt to it.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He shrugged off Eddie’s concern. “Went to Hawaii. It was a good time, I’d recommend it to you but I don’t know how well your skin would be able to take that much sun.” He laughed. It was almost performative. He wouldn’t meet Eddie’s eyes anymore. “Met some people. Had some fun. You know, vacation stuff. How were Dustin and Max, could they keep up with you?”

Eddie swallowed and tried not to let the cold wash of emotion completely pull him under. “You- you met some people, huh?” He was going for light. He really was going for light, but it came out just a touch too shaky to really pull it off.

“Yeah.”

“What kind of people?”

“I dunno, people. You know, vacation people.”

Eddie nodded and tried to shove everything, everything he was feeling far, far away. He had no right to feel so heartbroken, he didn’t.

Steve was… he deserved to let loose.

And if that meant meeting some people while away on vacation, that was none of Eddie’s god-damn business. After all, it was nothing compared to what he’d been doing to Steve for years.

“Right.”

Steve frowned at him. “What’s with the face?”

“What face?”

“That face.” He circled his finger around Eddie’s head. “You look like I just killed your dog.”

Eddie shook his head. “Did you find what you were looking for? Out there?”

There was a pause.

“I thought I did.” Steve crossed his arms. “I thought I had… escaped it, I suppose? But,” he sighed, “I think I know now it’s going to be with me forever.”

He looked up again, fixing Eddie with that same sad smile, like Eddie couldn’t see right through him, like he couldn’t tell. But how long had Steve been looking at him like that and how many times had Eddie not seen it?

Steve had thought he'd escaped him.

Or escaped his soul-crushing and unrequited love.

But was it even unrequited?

Last month Eddie would have been sure the answer was an unfortunate yes, it was unrequited.

But now he wasn't so sure.

The last month without Steve had been torture.

Steve had left on vacation to escape Eddie's effect on him, had met up with vacation people and thought it had worked...

Then he came back and...

Eddie needed to sit down.

He dropped himself heavily back down on the couch and put his head in his hands.

“Sounds like some kind of tragic love story.” He muttered into the space between them.

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice was soft. “I think it is.”

Eddie looked up at him, heart breaking in two just from how resigned to his fate Steve sounded and Eddie could feel it. He could feel it, like he knew, like he felt the same, like he’d been… for all this time…

“What were you escaping?” He asked, his voice smaller than he was used to hearing it. It was a dick question, it was a hard question to even get out but he had to know.

He had to be sure.

Because if he was sure then maybe…

Steve looked at him with his big sad eyes and his resigned posture and defeat written all over his figure. “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Stevie-”

“No. Please, Eddie. I… I can’t.”

“Why?” He pushed the word out into the air like it had personally offended him. “Why can’t you just talk to me about this? Why can’t you tell me? We tell each other everything. You’ve never hidden anything from me.”

Steve laughed, some cold, sad, biting thing. “Eddie, I've been hiding this thing from you for years.”

“But, please, Stevie, I need to know. I need you to tell me. Because, I don’t know. Maybe-” Eddie reached out, trying to grasp at Steve’s hand but Steve pulled back violently.

Like Eddie could burn him with just a touch.

“Don’t. Just- I can’t tell you, you know why I can’t tell you!”

“No, I don’t!” And Eddie really didn’t. Why was this so hard, why was it so hard for him to just… admit it?

“Because!” Steve stood in front of him, sudden and frantic, like a man who’d been clinging onto his last threat of patience and sanity and had just lost his grip, hands in his hair and staring at Eddie with wide glistening, pleading eyes. “Because I’d have to leave! I couldn’t stay if I did tell you! It would- it would be unethical and unprofessional-”

“Stevie, you know you’re more to me than an employee.”

“Yes, I do, but…” Steve deflated all at once, the very soul inside him crumpling under the weight of everything. “But what would happen if I did tell you?” He whispered, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “We’d try to continue on as normal but now there’s this thing hanging over every interaction we have from now until forever and you’ll start to get uncomfortable and it’ll be a thing. And you’ll never be able to look at me as just a friend anymore and I’ll get so distracted I won’t be able to do my job and I’ll have to go, for both our sakes and that would kill me, Eddie. I need you in my life like I need fucking air, as fucked up and infuriating as you are, I need you in my life.”

“But,” Eddie was making a valiant effort to will away the lump in his own throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt so unsure about something, like every word had the power to destroy if he picked the wrong one. Like everything around them was ready to shatter like a Prince Rupert’s drop if touched the wrong way. “What if that doesn’t happen? What if… what if we gave it a go…?”

Steve somehow slumped even more, dragging his hands down from his hair to cover his face, another laugh breaking out of his lungs that was clearly mingled up with a sob. “That would be even worse.” He murmured. 

“How could that possibly be worse?! Would it really be so bad to be in a relationship with me?”

“Yes, Eddie!” Steve hissed, glaring at him with red, shiny eyes. “Yes, it would! Because I know you. You don’t do relationships. Any ones you have had you’ve imploded before they go anywhere past semi-serious and I cannot do that. I cannot be given a taste and then just have to go the rest of my life without it because you got bored or self-destructive or realised it wasn’t what you wanted, that I-”

Steve abruptly cut himself off and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes again. “I can’t do it, Eddie. If I just became another notch… I don’t think I’d ever recover. It would destroy me.”

Eddie put his own head in his hands again, ignoring the jerking movements of his bouncing knee. The worst part was that he couldn’t disagree with what Steve had said about his attitude with people, about how he treated those he was with. 

He couldn’t even be angry or defensive about it because it was true. It was so true the both of them knew it was plainly factual, there was no point arguing.

Anyone he’d ever had a relationship with before, he’d either dropped once the shine had worn off, or shoved away using cutting words or sunk himself so deep into drugs and alcohol it was a miracle Steve had ever been able to drag him out.

Because it was always Steve dragging him out. It was always Steve listening to him bitch and moan about how love was for fantasists, no one was ever happy in relationships, having to cut themselves down by half to accommodate someone else, how he’d never catch himself in that trap for as long as he lived, how he’d swear off ever chaining himself down to bullshit monogamy again.

Until the next pretty face or bouncy ass walked by.

Of course Steve would think that about him. Eddie thought that about himself. Believed it about himself until very, very recently, when even the thought of Steve leaving his life forever sent a cold spike of dread and desperation through him.

“Okay,” Eddie rubbed his face. “But, what if… How do I- what if I prove it to you?”

Steve inhaled deeply then exhaled harshly toward the floor and dragged his hands away from his eyes. His face was blotchy and wet and miserable, his eyes were raw red and resigned. 

“Prove what?”

“That I…” Eddie dragged a hand through his hair, gripping on tight. “That I want to be serious about this. That I- if I get a chance, if you give me a chance to have you, that I’m going to keep you. Forever.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Eds.”

“I’ll keep it.” Eddie raised his head, meeting Steve’s eyes again and trying to will his sincerity across the room. “I’ll always keep it with you. If you love me like I suspect you do, I’m gonna work every god-damned day to keep that promise. Because I think I’ve been in love with you for just as long-”

“Please,” Steve’s voice cracked, harsh and painful sounding, “don’t say that if you don’t mean it-”

“I mean it.” He clasped his hands in front of him, almost begging Steve to hear him. To understand just how serious he was. “I swear on everything I hold dear, I mean it. I swear on my guitar I mean it.”

Steve looked so… he looked so hurt. Like everything he’d been hiding from himself, everything he’d been hiding from Eddie for so long, for years was all coursing through him at full force.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest and considered him.

“I’ll think about it.” His voice was quiet, but it wasn’t so despairing as it had been.

Eddie stood. He wanted to get closer, he wanted to wrap Steve up in his arms and never let go, he wanted to make it better but he didn’t dare move any closer.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know. I think right now I just need a little time. And space. Again. I might have to extend my vacation just for a few more days. To get my head on straight.”

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie exhaled, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Whatever you need, baby.”

A wounded, painful sound was pulled from Steve’s throat against his will and Eddie flinched backward.

“Jesus, shit. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Steve just shook his head, not meeting his eyes anymore. 

“Dustin and Max will be back tomorrow morning.” Steve didn’t raise his eyes again, keeping them firmly on the ground as he picked up his bag.

Eddie could only whisper out a small ‘okay’. He felt like if he said or did anything else, Steve might shatter into a million tiny pieces and he couldn’t- he wouldn’t let that happen.

The same way it had happened a month ago, Eddie watched Steve leave the room, staring at the door long after he’d gone.

But even though it was the same this time, it was also different.

Because now he had a terrible hope building in his chest.

Now he had work to do.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 AO3

It was Chanel, hello?? It had accessories??

An idea of Steve's yellow suit

And, of course, Rhianna's iconic cape

This is the video I watched to visualise Eddie playing away in his basement studio. Watch it and let your mind wander 🤭 (specifically 1:23 is the part Eddie is playing in the fic)

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring, @child-of-cthulhu, @sweetwaterangel, @anaibis, @katytheinspiredworkaholic, @littlewildflowerkitten, @hallucinatedjosten, @estrellami-1, @gregre369, @stxrcrossed186, @novelnovella, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere, @thesuninyaface, @messrs-weasley

[walli3darl1ng]

Okay hear me out!?

Shapeshifter reader????

Like they can shapeshift into whatever animal, person, puppet. Oh oh! And reader loves to prank the welcome home crew, like one second there wally the next there Barnaby! 'Buying' apples from howdy!

I just love the ideas the morning gives me so here we are lol

From: a new friend 🌜

To: you!💖

BRO reader is such a prankster! Like not to the point of annoyance ( you don’t do it everyday) but to the point that everyone is just cautious and fearful of each other.

I see them having code words or phrases with each other to make sure it’s not you like:

Wally Sees Barnaby

“Hey, Buddy. What’s in apple pie?”

“Wha-apples?”

“Y/n”

“How!-“

You have a unique ability, a gift some say. But you can change forms to who ever and whatever you’ve seen with your own eyes. Sadly, no you can’t change into a mermaid or dragon.

If you physically seen the living organisms or object you can turn into it!

You’re been living at the Welcome Home neighborhood for a while now, you remember the time you first got here.

First terrorizing the neighborhood as the iconic black cat; dubbed ‘the neighborhood’s chaos’ or just ‘Chaos’.

scaring Eddie when he would open up the mailboxes to deliver mail.

“Ah!- Chaos! Off you go!”

Scare the butterflies away when Frank would try and catch them. Using the poor guy as a stepping still to get to them.

“No, Chaos!”

Take Julie’s dolls and hide them.

“No, no, Chaos! Not Mr. Wiggins!”

Steal merchandise from Howdy’s.

“What was that noise? Chaos! You better not be taking the jalapeños!”

Scaring Barnaby…just to scare him.

“Good, good, chaos…Ah!!”

“Barnaby, they haven’t noticed us yet..”

Never leaving Sally alone.

“Chaos, stop, no don’t scratch that!”

And with Wally…well let’s say it’s a love-hate relationship. You’ll mess up his painting, splash around the pant and make Home dirty. Yet, he can’t stay mad at the adorable, big eyed cat face.

“Chaos, you know not to mess with my paints…”

Now you’re not all bad. No you’re misunderstood. You just wanted attention and stumbled about the neighborhood filled with new friends! Poppy’s the only one to see that, she’ll always keep a bowl of good and water for you and will sometimes have you around while she bakes.

Now it’s a big misunderstanding how you manage to join the neighborhood and let’s say it cost you your leg.

You still have it by the way, don’t worry.

They had a meeting about your mischievous ways. And traps were set, one caught you and injured your leg. And to get a better look you changed back to your form but that was the same time they check the traps and saw you.

“Chaos?”

“Yeah-well-I..it’s actually Y/n.”

And that was a few months ago and you’re all healed up. Wally was strolling down the street when he sees you skipping along. And well if you’re you, he doesn’t need to worry.

“Hey, neighbor!”

“Oh! Hi, cutie. Are you going to Howdy’s for an apple? I’m getting a jalapeño.” You smile. You always give the neighborhood nickname and treat them with love because well, that’s how you are! And because you feel bad for terrorizing then for so long.

“Mhm! But I need a favor.”

You walk inside with a chime from the bell above the door and greet Howdy. “Hi, Big Brother!”

“Good afternoon, sweetheart! Are you here for a jalapeño?” He muses with a smile and shuffles your hair.

You nod and hold you arms out with your palms up to receive your treat and then asked him for an apple. For extra sweetness? Regardless he gave it to you.

Next was Wally, who only gets one for obvious reasons.

Then, Barnaby, what’s with everyone wanting apples?

Then it was poppy getting her supply for baking sweets and when he saw that her feathers were a little discolored he knew it was you, but how can he prove it?

“Apples for apple pie, poppy?”

“Well, yeah, of course-“

“Y/n i know it’s you.”

“How?!” You didn’t have time! Run! “Wally! He’s onto us!”

This is the best I could do while listening to this lecture🫠

[cloveroctobers]

SILENCE — ANGEL REYES x OC x CANE TEJADA | Part ii.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m actually doing a part two since I never do those because they don’t ever preform as well as the first but after that (terrible) finale I couldn’t resist. Thanks for the support on the first one, hopefully this will bring some sense of more life for Angel. if this is my last piece for him then why not also go out with a little something? He’s the last man standing apparently so here’s a send off on my part.

WARNINGS: language, hints of coping mechanisms? Or Mental illness Therapy is mentioned, I’ve also been binge-watching 9-1-1 from the beginning, I’m currently on season 4 I think! which is why Eddie’s character is mentioned but he doesn’t make a appearance so please skip over this if you’re feeling some type of way about that and are looking for a eddie based fic. I will be writing something for him soon btw. There’s also a little surprise towards the end for certain lovers who might read this.

*GIF and photos DO NOT BELONG TO ME!

Read part one here. + using this prompt and number 21. Timing

*ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *

Solay’s half asleep, the soft horns sounding from the NBA game Cane’s got his hands on was actually comforting and it often reminded her of nights when her and her sister would fall asleep on the couch together while their father watched the game. It was late, once watching the clock going from midnight to 2 am, she was once wired, greasing cane’s hair and brushing his waves before securing the doo-rag around his head.

It was a typical night, their version of normal until harsh knocks sounded at the door, breaking Solay out of her slumber. Her eyes felt heavy but she was alert and so was Cane as he paused the game, picking up on the knocks that appeared at the door some more. He tossed the controller onto the coffee table, moving slowly as he reaches underneath the cushion of the couch Solay was lounging on.

His low-lidded eyes briefly met her’s as he brings a single finger up to his lips after taking the safety off. Cane’s on his feet now while Solay shortly follows after, reaching over to turn off the side lamp and ready to head to the back of the home to check on her son, Xavier.

Cane wasn’t sure who it could be, he knew it couldn’t be any of his people considering the situation back home but he figured it could be Tariq’s bitch ass, you just never know with him. He’s against the door now, peeking around but all he could see was a shadow of someone.

Yanking the door back to fly against the wall, he’s quick with his grip as he aims the gun right at Angel Reyes who hold’s out a arm while he cradles his son.

“Fuck you want?” Cane asks.

Angel looks down but it’s not like Cane cares, although it seems he lowers the gun just a bit, for the baby’s sake.

“I need to talk to soso.”

“Nig—, you know what time it is? Knocking on the damn door like you the feds or some shit? What makes you think it’s okay to show up here unannounced at this time of the night?” Cane’s tone is clipped.

Angel shifts Maverick in his arms as he says, “that’s a conversation I need to have with Solay, not you.”

“Last time I checked, she ain’t with your ass no more and I’m the man of this house so you want to run that by me again?”

A house Angel was damn sure Cane didn’t put a penny down to help with the mortgage.

The darkness underneath Angel’s eyes was deafening but the twitch of his brows was evident that he had no intentions of backing down. He still felt a way about Cane showing up to his house and Angel thought he could do the same. If this was his house but Angel couldn’t see himself in the big apple.

It was only right in his eyes.

Before he can send a rebuttal at the shorter brown skinned man, Solay appears from behind Cane, who lets out a sigh before sucking his teeth.

“Enrique Iglesias is here,” Cane informs Solay who pulls her robe tighter around her body.

She hasn’t seen Angel since the funeral for Felipe. Understandably so, he needed time to grieve but she figured he was doing it alone due to the decline of Ezekiel’s relationship with the man and that couldn’t be healthy. And it wasn’t like Solay saw Angel much before that either, he showed up to the second therapy session but it was clear that his mind was somewhere else. Which wasn’t unusual when it came to his precious club but Solay didn’t pry since it seemed like Angel was always on the go or lost in his thoughts. It’s not like she didn’t care but he was the one who encouraged her there to these sessions but her gut also told her that it would always be only a matter of time.

Until he moved on to something else.

Timing was never something Angel managed well. If shit came at him, he was usually thrown for a loop depending on what it was and never had guidelines for plans or anything like that. He was more take things as they were tossed at him type of person but ever since EZ got into that president’s chair and Angel got the chance to raise Maverick, he was also changing.

“Angel…” solay started as she took in his appearance, she could tell that something was wrong, “what’s going on?”

Angel swallowed the lump in his throat and if Cane wasn’t in the room right now, he probably would have collapsed into Solay’s arms. She could see that, she could sense that. It was in his eyes, that he was hurting and sure way back when that might have gave Solay the tiniest bit of satisfaction but that’s not where they were now.

She was annoyed he stopped showing up to the sessions but brushed it off after awhile, saying that she “knew it,” up until Felipe was gunned down in Angel’s childhood home. There was always something going on with Angel and although they were trying to work on their relationship, Solay knew she couldn’t be selfish.

She didn’t have the heart to be.

Solay waved Angel in, despite the incredulous look Cane shot her way. She’s locking the door behind him and rests her hand on Angel’s lower back, which surprisingly makes him flinch as she does.

A brow raises at that but Solay says, “come into the living room.”

“Yeah okay…where’s Xavy?”

“Sleeping like yo ass should be.” Cane mutters, while Solay sends him a sharp look.

He places the lock back on the gun and puts it into the waist band of his basketball shorts, clasping his hands in front of him as he eyes Solay being so gentle with a dude that didn’t deserve it. Cane was heavy on that, “fuck the fact that he’s your baby’s father, after everything he put you through? Why are you still concerned when you knew he was gonna pull that shit? He doesn’t care about you like I do and I’m not even sure he gives that much of a fuck about Xavier.”

This was said after Angel stopped showing up to the sessions and Solay didn’t want to hear it. It didn’t feel like cane’s place—although she vented to him and he did the shit-talking to mainly make her feel better—and it also wasn’t angel’s place to feel a way about her seeing someone else.

Solay inhales as she sits on the coffee table, crossing one leg over the other as she takes in her ex-husband. He’s barely blinking as he stares off in space and Solay isn’t sure what to do about this.

“Talk to me,” she says bringing Angel’s dark eyes to meet her doe ones, “what happened?”

Angel places his lips against a sleeping Maverick’s temple that he cradles and then blows out a breath, “where do I start? Luisa’s gone, just buried my pops, now EZ’s dead—which I—I played a part in, I’m out the club and now I need you and Xavier to come with me to Arizona.”

Cane is laughing it up now while Solay is almost at a lost for words. She wasn’t surprised about Luisa but it would probably explain why Angel was checked out and why he moved in with Felipe. They haven’t really talked like they used to be able to do so hearing all of this—about what was going on in Angel’s world was a lot to process.

It always was.

“What do you mean…EZ’s dead?” Solay croaked out, shifting as she held out a hand to silence the man behind them.

Angel rubs at his exhausted face now, “The club found out…now it’s over. I buried him myself out on the road and I wish I never encouraged him to be in this shit you know? Maybe he’d still be here being a smart ass. My brother’s gone and I don’t got nothing left. This dried blood on my hands…it’s not worth it no more. Which is why I need you and Xavy to come with me before the feds come because I know they will. It’s only a matter of time.”

Solay searched Angel’s eyes and they held sincerity. It was all finally coming full circle now, what she’s been telling him for years…that the club’s brotherhood wouldn’t end well. Not when there was so much dirt, blood, lack of values, and deceit behind it. She had no issue speaking her peace on the club way back when (she also felt a way when she learned that EZ was getting involved fresh out of being locked up but angel didn’t want to hear that shit either) and sure she got along with some of the men there but it’s not like she was ever clueless to what it was. Solay was tired of constantly looking over her shoulder when it came to Angel’s club and that feeling never went away, even when she gave birth to their son and even when they were officially divorced. Everything was crumbling down around Angel and he was trying to get out for good.

“You want me to just pick everything up and follow you to Arizona?”

Angel dips his head, “yeah, it’ll be different this time. And I’m not saying let’s go off and get remarried or nothing like that but we could be something real. A family again.”

“Yeah a real fucked up one,” Cane comments, making Angel realize that he was in fact still in the room with them, “so let’s get this straight? Your daddy’s gone, that bitch you cheated with up and left your ass—which probably means she’s six feet under too—yeah I know exactly what she’s really into and it’s clear you’re too dumb to figure that out still, and now for a club to kill one of their own…it’s evident that your brother was some sort of snitch who got what was comin’ to him. But the ultimate disrespect is you coming back up in here with your tail in between your legs, thinking you can just take back what you lost long ago.”

“Listen man, you watch your damn mouth when it comes to my blood.” Angel points a warning finger at the man who chuckles; not the least bit threatened, “this is much bigger than your fucken ego. I’m looking out for Solay and our son, this don’t got shit to do with you. Never has. You can leave and go back to your own crooked shit in New York and leave Solay and my son out of it.”

Now isn’t that the coffee calling the kettle black?

Cane furrowed his brows, “Now you wanna win the father of the year award? You ain’t never been shit as far as I can tell and you’re never gonna be shit. Solay’s not going nowhere with you, she’s good on that.”

Solay got to her feet now as Angel glared at Cane who was all smirks, knowing he could get underneath the vulnerable older man’s skin so easily, “I’m going to need the both of you stop speaking for me.”

Both men kept their heated stares on each other but Cane couldn’t take Angel seriously with a child in his arms. The silence was weighing down the living room as Solay began to pace the floor. She didn’t know all of the details and didn’t think she would with Cane in the room. There was truth in his words when it came to the club—this Solay knew, although she was always on the outside when it came to anything revolving around the Mayans.

“Cane…I need a minute.”

“Aight, let’s go.” Cane was ready to lead the way back to the bedroom with a nod of his head in the direction of the room but a shake of Solay’s head had him confused.

Solay met Cane’s hooded eyes, “with Angel, alone.”

“I know you’re not considering leaving with this clown, So.”

Angel shrugged his shoulders, “It shouldn’t matter to you no way, the only reason you still stuck around is to get some product right? Now that that’s gone—you don’t need me or Solay. So maybe you should start saying your goodbyes now.”

Which provoked cane to whip out the gun again, until Solay reached for his wrist, making cane glance at her, ready to shove her hand off but he moved his stare back to Angel who had a sly smirk on the corner of his own lips.

“You act like you’re the only one I can do business with.” Cane tightened his stare, “Heroin ain’t really my lane but I thought why not since I’m here? You fucked that up like you constantly do and there you go again assuming shit about my relationship with Solay and you don’t know the first thing about it.”

Angel lifted his shoulders, “I know you ain’t no better than me and you don’t really care about Solay as much as you claim you do. It’s all a game but the difference is I’m always gonna be around, you on the other hand are disposable and I’mma always have my son’s best interest at heart. Solay’s the bonus.”

Cane rolled his eyes, “Let me find you a gold sticker for your forehead—

“ENOUGH!” Solay screams at the both of them, carefully peaking over at the sleeping baby afterwards,“this back and forth is getting on my nerves. Let me think in peace for a little bit, just go Cane.”

She orders.

Cane kisses his teeth and walked off, knowing that it was best before he might actually let some bullets fly.

Solay massaged the space in between her thin brows as her mind began spinning. She thought about all the bad the club brought to her front door and she was just leveling up without it.

So it seemed.

Now here Angel, a man she used to be in love with, a troubled man she wanted to spend forever with once upon a time, the man she shared a child with, was here telling her he was out. Out of the club, something she wanted for years for him because she knew that club wasn’t his purpose. He didn’t see it then but he saw it now. Solay’s faced a lot when it came to the club, with Angel’s disappearing for days at a time making her believe one of those days he wouldn’t come home to her, quality time being cancelled so he could be more dedicated to that club instead, cleaning up his wounds due to all sorts of danger he was involved in, he fucked those bartending bitches behind her back while some of those men smiled in her face knowing his dirt, to having a false sense of protection that led to being tied up, beat on so bad and left alone in a burning building years ago—which she just finished paying off a hospital bill for.

All of those instances let Solay know that The Mayans weren’t some saints by any means but Solay knew Angel loved that brotherhood once upon a time. He was slowly changing and morphing into something else—maybe something better—over these last couple of years but Solay figured that’s what happens when on-going lost comes your way. Gives you a bit of a wake up call and proud wasnt the word she would ever use (everyone that he lost still mattered to her as well) but it was about damn time.

It’s just unfournate how it all played out and there was so much to weigh out here. Solay knew she and Xavier would probably be harassed despite Angel being officially out of the Mayans. The war doesn’t just end and given what state Angel was in—numb yet determined, sitting in her living room clenching onto Maverick, Solay knew this war would just brew many more.

She would be affiliated no matter what and so would their son and so would Mavy—if not more thanks to who his mother is or was. This would always be Angel’s doing and she wasn’t blaming him, that wouldn’t get her anywhere she realized but it was a fact. She was with Angel right when the club was just an idea, a one night stand which later turned serious not long after he got patched in, back when he and Coco just moved into the Azure apartment complexes. The Mayans ripped through Angel, that much she could tell and many in her position would jump at the chance to shout at him, “I told your ass!”

Except Solay closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, rolling the tension out of her shoulders before she met Angel’s stare.

“Tell me all of it but take it easy when it comes to…Ezekiel.” She tells Angel, feeling a twing in her own chest at the thought of the brother she couldn’t save.

Angel held his ex-wife’s stare and inhaled a shaky breath, “…alright.”

Life in the desert was not something Solay thought she would ever be part of. She immediately thought of dry skin 24/7 when she had combo skin. Yes there were deserts back home but at least there was a downtown area that wasn’t far from her home. This transition was certainly just that. She’s in the kitchen in a daze, the southwest home is quiet in her mind as she’s drying the last dish. Her eyes are set on the two square windows by the dining table off to the side of the strangely shaped kitchen, back pressed into the kitchen sink.

It’s a early Monday afternoon, September just hit the calendar and she’s lost track of time. A hand catches her off guard as they tug on the belt hoops of her Jean skirt, making her gaze turn down to her seven year old who’s peering up at her with her mirrored doe-shaped eyes and his father’s nose.

“We’re back from the pool, mommy!” Xavier signs as Solay smiles sweetly at him, hand going around his shoulders to squeeze him to her hips.

She didn’t even pick up on him entering the sliding doors by the dining room, her mind elsewhere.

Labor Day came around much quicker than expected and they had their little celebration that Sunday but Xavier seemed to love the water and couldn’t get enough. Which means Angel was on duty for taking him and Maverick to the pool out back while Solay did a few minor things for work online and cleaned up the lunch angel ordered.

Solay signs, “Did you have fun?”

“Always!” Xavier laughs with a nod of his head.

“Good, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The boy groans as Solay gives him a stern look while he spins on his damp heels before stomping out the kitchen and headed towards his room.

Solay lightly laughs with a shake of her head.

“Xavy pouting about clean up time again?”

“Yeah the usual,” solay shrugs as the man makes his way over to her while she reaches to brush a wet strand of a two year old Maverick’s hair back, “everything go alright out there?”

Angel bends to put Maverick on his feet, the little man taking off on his chubby feet to find his big brother, “yeah, why wouldn’t it be? It’s hot as shit out there though. Isn’t autumn supposed to be here by now?”

“We just touched September,” Solay states kind of ignoring the question he asked back, “and you’re the one who picked Arizona, not me.”

Angel lifts his chin, “you could have talked me out of it though.”

“You don’t listen to nobody but your own big ass head.”

Angel shrugged as he leaned his elbows back on the dark wooded island that was rolled and locked in place on a angle in the kitchen, “seriously though, I’ve seen you in here looking like you’re off in space and shit. You sure you’re alright?”

Ever since Solay made the decision to be here with Angel, Maverick, and Xavier, Angel always made it his task to question how she was holding up. Like it was devastating or like she had regrets being here but that’s not truly how she felt. She wasn’t sure how she felt, Solay couldn’t really explain it. She just knows she feels something unsettling often. After Angel told her the truth back in her old stucco home in Santo Padre, she knew getting the hell out of dodge was also the best option.

They weren’t together but they found a new therapist and communicated much better. Angel worked two jobs, first considering a semi-truck driving job but declined once he knew how much hours he would have to put in and how long he would be away from his family. He was persistent on turning over a new leaf. Of course he still had scraps of his own money and Luisa’s blood money but he promised Solay that he wouldn’t use that money when it came to renting their home. He could do whatever he wanted with it but not when it came to their new home or Xavier. So he worked as a custodian at a middle school full-time and a delivery driver on Friday and most Saturday nights.

Solay signed over the building to her second in command at her shop to continue running her business in Santo Padre and if she wished to turn it into her own, she could. Solay was expecting and waiting for the day that would happen. Her main focus was running her e-commerce shop for her beauty line which continued to be successful and having her products distributed in over seven spas in the major cities of Arizona. She was still doing well and adapted to the new setting although her family was very vocal on this big leap.

Her dad still wasn’t vibing with Angel like that after all these years and knew from the jump that he continued to get his daughter into some mess. It really wasn’t like that but a father always knows and he had no problem booking flights with his ex wife, Solay’s mother to vacation in this hot ass desert right at their house. Her big sister on the other hand? She made it routine to talk to Solay and her nephew, Xavier almost every day.

In a way having Solay’s family around a few times out of the year kinda made him forget missing his own. Almost. Even when he was got in disagreements with Solay’s opinionated father. He could laugh about it once he dropped them off at the airport and brush off the touch of overbearingness because that’s just how Solay’s family was.

He was still down to go to the end of the earth with her as he eyed her in a new light now. Part of him expected Solay to just kick him out that night and keep him away from Xavier. Instead he gave her the littlest bit of time to decide, on his terms and even though everything seemed to be moving rapidly to him, he understood that Solay didn’t operate like that. Things could be drippy when this type of news was delivered and felt overwhelming. She had to sit with all the information Angel gave her, then analyze it all and take Xavier into account before moving forward.

Maybe this was just what they needed, a change of scenery, away from the Mayans and what that town brought into their lives. It wasn’t perfect by any means but life was much more slow-paced now. Initially this is what Solay wanted, a soft girl era but there was always this haunting feeling that shifted from her chest down to her gut.

“Do I?” She asked, snapping out of it.

Angel started tossing a plum up into the air, “don’t know if you notice but you just did it again. Felt like twelve hours later that you answered me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you mean it though?”

“What?”

“You’d tell me if something is wrong right? If you don’t want to do this anymore—

“Shush. It’s not ideal but it works for now.”

Angel dipped his head at this. He was very much aware that Solay could run off into the night if she truly wanted to but she was also invested in beating the odds. She wanted a stable home for their son. It made sense to Angel and knew it didn’t to anybody else and sure it was rocky at first with Xavier having trouble adjusting to the new environment—which kicked mama bear Solay in play, who had no issue telling administrators to be more accommodating to those with special needs (there was a serious lack of specific hearing impaired schools in small towns like this and santo padre but at least back home there was one educator that was also an interpreter) —Angel had to hide the chairs let’s just say that and Angel also had no issue telling the kid that picked on Xavy that he’d “fuck him up,” which the kid repeated but his own parents didn’t believe that surprisingly.

Probably because the wife and her husband had their eyes on angel. Solay was completely convinced that they were swingers but Angel laughed it off until his ass got squeezed by one of them at a third meeting.

“Alright then…wanna talk about that date with the firefighter?”

Solay scowled, “it wasn’t a date.”

“You went to a cooking class together this time around and a escape room before that, which he had a advantage to considering his job by the way. I’d say it’s a date, why are you being so weird about it?” Angel’s tossing the fruit up in the air but frowning over at the woman.

Solay scratches at her scalp above her scarf in irritation before moving to leave the kitchen and entered the living room that’s right next to it, “i’m not being weird about it. I just don’t think I need to talk to you about it.”

“Why not? I’m not feelin’ no type of way about it if that’s what you’re thinking. are we not besties now?” Angel followed after Solay who flicked the reruns of a talk-show off.

Solay scoffed as she looked over at angel in disbelief, “we’re roomies at best.”

“Exactly, besties.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I think it would help Edgar sleep better at night if you just admit yall are going on dates.” Angel teased as he leaned towards Solay who gave him the hand on her way by.

“That’s not even his name!”

Angel called out to her, “I know it starts with an E though. I gotta be close.”

“Eddie.” Solay told him, “Short for Edmundo and that’s all I’m gonna say about him to you.”

“Edmundo? Awl shit, you got a type!”

“Shut the hell—I’m gonna tend to the kids.”

“Yeah uh huh, you can get away from this conversation now but I’ll just ease drop some more when you’re gossiping about ‘im when you’re on the phone with big sis.” Angel commented as Solay rolled her eyes and made her exit.

If you asked solay she would say Angel’s the one being weird about this. It’s been two years since they left and Angel was keen on seeing solay get back out there and find her perfect match or whatever. He seemed to be more for it than Solay herself. She wasn’t really searching when Eddie came along in a bar (with a few others) she was having dinner solo in and she definitely brought it up to their therapist, who said it was Angel’s way of trying to make up for the unhappiness he brought her.

Still that was more weird than them living in a house together raising their sons in Solay’s eyes. A more normal reaction would be Angel grilling the casual dates Solay went on but now he was ready to hear how it was going and when he would meet them. Solay’s only been on two dates with Eddie and he was a complete gentleman, had a excellent job, a bit dorky and nervous? which gave Solay the indication that he did like her a little bit when he stumbled over his words asking her out for the first time but knew how to keep a conversation going, it was easy flowing. Almost too easy and Solay wasn’t used to easy.

At all.

She’s helping an annoyed Xavier with a Luke-temp bath, putting her thoughts on mute after hearing Angel tend to Maverick in Xavier’s room, coming up with all sorts of sound effects as if they were pilots (she thinks) since Maverick seemed to enjoy airplanes.

“Mom,” Xavier gets Solay’s attention again, sticking his finger into her nostril.

She flinched back making the boy laugh in her expense while she shook her head at him with a disapproving smile. He’s pointing behind her at the counter and Solay turns as she sits on the closed lid, reaching for her vibrating phone, which shows its her old employee calling her.

“Hey Idil, I know you’re not working on the holiday?” Solay greets after putting the call on speaker.

There’s loud shuffling on the line, which makes solay furrow her brows a bit as she turns back to the phone, “Idil?”

“Sup, so. You miss me?”

Solay pauses as she picks up on the familiar voice, “…Cane…what’re you doing?”

“Business. That’s all I’m good for right?”

Things didn’t end the best with Cane as to be expected when Solay told him what she planned on doing. Which included putting the house on the market, packing up half of her things, having some of it shipped out, leaving a small portion to sell with the house, discussing the way her business would be ran in Idil’s hands abruptly, and most importantly leaving Cane behind. She learned all about him showing up to Angel’s house with his little brother Dru, threatening him to stay away from Solay and to see how they can get in on Ez’s supply of heroin to move a percentage of the product in New York. Cane heard about the new president from word of mouth on the streets but he was the first to actually take the trip and do something about it.

Solay came into sight and he got a little distracted but when cane learned her background, he was close enough to get that connect but he also found fun in getting on Angel’s nerves. Which left Solay to question if any of it was real, she was tired of men taking for her weak when she opened up her heart to them which is why she was a little emotionally cut off—so she thought but she was always passionate or sensitive—depends who you ask.

“What do you want?”

Cane huffed, “how you know I ain’t just supporting a black owned business? What if I want to keep my skin looking like a Hershey’s kiss?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Yeah but you had enough time to fuck off with Antonio banderas and kick me to the curb though.”

“You sound pressed.”

“Nah, I handle shit.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Solay’s eyes were in slits now, “you know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t want anything else to do with your bullshit.”

“Why not? We had a good time together don’t you think?”

“I’d Rather not reminisce about the past.”

“See, I find that hard to believe. You in that clay box ass house with a nobody raising his kids, one of those kids that’s a product of him not being loyal to you. Not loving you. Like you ain’t shit to him, he treated you like you were temporary. Which is something I would have never done to you but you’re too blinded by him for whatever reason. Sounds like you ran right back to the past because you’re scared of something real.”

Solay cackles as Cane voices his thoughts to her, like he just read her. “Scared, maybe? Real? That’s unlikely with you. You didn’t step into what we had as a forever type of thing, it was all lies on your part too. All the red flags were right in front of my face and I don’t know how you don’t get that you’re no better, Cane. I know one things for sure, I wasn’t ever afraid to lose you, so stay the fuck off my line.”

With that she ended the call and only imagined he was probably screwing somebody in the shop now if he wasn’t running product through it. Idil couldn’t be that fooled or backstabbing right? She knew how cane operated and it’s been silent for two years now, not hearing from him and her accepting that most of it was probably not genuine was just Cane trying to get ahead.

Solay was over these men trying to get the best of her when she felt like didn’t deserve this. She was knocked off her path moving to Arizona but perhaps this was part of her healing. At least that’s one way she tried to look at it, putting boundaries up and vowing that she didn’t see being in a romantic relationship again with Angel Reyes. What she saw was: she needed to move on from all the hurt, find happiness behind the success and continue being a good mom to Xavier.

Solay was done with the drama.

“Soso, everything good?” Angel called from behind the door.

Solay had her eyes trained on Xavier, her hand resting on his coarse damp hair. She calls back out to Angel, “yup, all good. Hey, what do you think about taking the RV out for a ride a little later? Go sight seeing.”

“Fucken finally!” Angel cheered from behind the door while a small smile appeared on her lips, “I’m driving though.”

That’s right, Angel made the purchase of a RV for the hell of it last summer while Solay looked at it as a possible exit plan. Did Angel know that? No but she planned on telling him at some point. Did she need to jump ship just yet now that it’s been brought to her attention that cane was still keeping tabs on her? Maybe so but for now she just wanted to enjoy this holiday.

She’s on autopilot as she’s getting Xavier dressed into some lounge clothes that would be suitable for their outing later. After finishing twirling his coils, she sends him off to run to where Maverick and Angel are horsing around—easily joining in on their fun. Solay stands in the doorway, arms lightly folded as she watches them bond with each other, like a family should.

This time it felt like it was time to stop catering to everyone else’s needs always first yet that could be dangerous if you didn’t have balance but Solay was ready for something more. No one was going to get in the way of that, she vowed. She deserved to have genuine joy that didn’t end with her crying herself to sleep at night. That didn’t mean to find that in someone else because you’ll be dependent on that person always and that’s not something she wanted to do anymore, be dependent on anyone else for love, this she learned in therapy but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the company of a certain firefighter if she got out of her own way.

She should text Eddie back.

A lot can happen in two years and her attitude shifted being in the same space as Angel again. It wasn’t necessarily intentional in the beginning it’s just that it was always something with him. Now it didn’t feel like she was simply tolerating him anymore, no it wasn’t all sparkles and sunshine either in this present time but the bad moods stopped being constant. Solay’s mind was always on the move and being someplace else away from her main family, gave her the chance to really sit with her emotions and that brought up a lot some days.

She had to learn that her life wasn’t some play in a dream land or that she was out in the audience watching, like this was euphoria or anything along those lines.

This was actually her life and as she watched a tatted shirtless Angel settle into his newfound life with his boys, warm smiles and head thrown back while he silently laughed as he interacted with both boys in harmony, Solay let a smile of her own split onto her face.

It’s after 3PM when the family of four make their way out into the Arizonan heat that’s good at sending people to do a quick face plant. Solay’s checked the weather every hour before they deemed that now was a good time to go out, the temperature only went down four degrees which absolutely didn’t feel like much as she held Maverick’s little hand and Angel led the way while Xavier ran from his side and up ahead.

Forgetting something in the house, she tells Angel as he’s standing at the dining table inside the cool RV while the boys sit side by side.

“C’mon so!” Angel groaned, “We’re just going on a thirty minute drive and coming straight back, you tryin’ to take the whole house?”

Solay raises a finger in the air as she’s going down the steps, “better to be prepared than not to be if we get stranded.”

“Don’t put that kinda energy out there, cariño.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You’re starting to sound like your mother.”

“Run that by me again?”

“Nothing. Go head.” Angel fanned his ring covered hand at the arched brow Solay sent his way.

He then snickered down at the boys who watched their interaction as he spoke and signed, “Joking,” to Xavier and Maverick.

The heat blew across her skin as she peered down at her phone, house keys swinging on her finger until she stopped in her tracks, looking up and over at the two young figures standing before her.

“You must be Tariq and…”

“Oh, I’m Brayden!” The blond boy on his right beamed with a hand pressed to his chest in greeting, making the taller of the two cut his eyes at him.

Brayden shrugged innocently at the look Tariq sent him while Solay let out a sigh and placed her phone into the back pocket of her Jean skirt.

“You don’t seem surprised to see us.” Tariq noted while Solay held out her hands.

“Not really, when you get older it’s always something. So…what’s the plan here boys?” Solay moved her hand to press against her forehead, blocking out the scorching sunrays.

The two share a look with each other while Solay awaited for them to spit it out. They were here for a reason and Solay was open to hearing them out since they came all this way after all but it’s not like she wanted to be wrapped up in their bullshit either.

They just met and she really owed them nothing.

“Do you know a Don? Don Carter.” Tariq starts and he picks up on the expression on Solay’s face.

She doesn’t say anything but Tariq picked up the expression on her face much faster than Brayden could register it.

“He’s this detective who’s wife got killed years ago and he was never able to solve the case. We have proof that shows Cane pulled the trigger that killed her and we need your help to get him out the way or else our asses are done for.” Brayden added.

Solay answered, “Detective Don Carter is my cousin.”

“I knew it.” Tariq smiled as if this solved his problem, “if we hand him the truth and you lure Cane back here, we can either take him out or Don can do whatever he needs to: throw his ass in jail or take him out himself. Whoever gets to him first besides you.”

Brayden brushed off his shoulders before the teens gave each other dap, “Yeah, team work baby!”

Solay shushed them, making the smiles wipe right off their faces, “what makes you think I want to be involved with Cane again? I’ve moved on, whatever else he’s got going on doesn’t have a thing to do with me if you haven’t noticed.”

“That’s not true though,” Tariq frowned, “you know he’s obsessed with you more than he’s on my shit and that’s saying a lot. He’s gonna disrupt whatever you got going on until he wins.”

‘What exactly does he think he’s going to win?’ Solay thought to herself as she tilts her head to the side at the teen’s words, Tariq would know that side of Cane since that’s not the side she got to see but he did fool her before.

“So the plan is: you want me to trap him for your sake? Which again, doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Yours too. He did you dirty, right? Aren’t you sick of him because I sure am.” Brayden asks, making Solay cross her arms.

“That’s my cousin’s business not mine.” Solay almost sasses, “I’m on a clean slate this time, I’m just trying to be a mother and be a legal business owner, no more dealing with men that have bad shit attached to them. take that shit to Don and leave me out of it. I heard he moved out to New york.”

“Well…” Brayden sucks air between his teeth with a wince.

Tariq states, “we can’t go back to the city just yet.”

“Why not?”

“Cane’s stupid ass, the rest of the tejada’s, and Effie set me up that’s why!” Tariq was heated, rightfully so.

“I tried to take him out but I guess that wasn’t enough to be fatal,” Brayden is apologetic but Tariq just dips his head in thanks, a silent understanding passing between the two boys.

“Wait…you shot Cane? He just called—nope.” Solay begins walking by the boys, done with the conversation while shuffling her keys as she heads back to the house, kicking up dirt while she went.

The boys were pleading as they followed after the older woman but she was not trying to hear anymore.

“Hey!” Angel called out to the trio, making both Tariq and Brayden whip around to face the mustache wearing man who stood on the steps of the RV, shotgun aimed right in their direction.

“Shit, shit! Don’t shoot us man, we really come in peace!”

“Shut up, Brayden.”

“Angel,” Solay calls from the path of the doorway and gives him a shake of her head to tell him not to pull that trigger.

Solay takes her eyes off Angel and says to the boys, “wait here, preferably away from my ex-husband’s eyesight.”

“No problem! You got it!” Brayden disappears, hiding behind the southwest exterior while Tariq holds Angel’s stare who turns them into slits, “what’re you doing, riq? Didn’t you say he’s in a motorcycle club? those motherfuckers get rowdy.”

“Nah, he was. Then he disappeared. He might be our answer too.”

The door slams shut behind them, making the teens turn back to Solay who’s locking up the home while carrying what appears to be a trinket box. She meets their stare as she steps down onto the dirt and nods her head, “follow me.”

“Not if you’re gonna have that guy kill us!”

“Nobody’s dying,” Solay says over her shoulder as she leads the way back to Angel, “my kids are inside the RV.”

Brayden let’s out a whistle of relief as Solay steps up to Angel, reaching up to lower the gun down, her eyes saying something which gets him to put the safety on lock.

“This is Tariq and Brayden,” Solay let’s Angel know as they make their way into the RV, making the man let out a groan of annoyance.

“Our kids are here and it’s a holiday, why are you two pulling up now?”

Tariq presses his elbows into his knees after taking a seat on the couch parallel to where the two kids sit, “To get rid of your remaining problem: Cane Tejada.”

“Oh…the fucken bed bug.” Angel rubs at his face in irritation while Brayden snorts at the insult.

Solay cut her eyes at him, motioning to their kids, leaving the man to hold his hands up in surrender and then sticks his tongue out at Maverick who looks his way. Solay places the headphones onto the toddler’s ears and gently rubs Xavier’s shoulders, although he’s too involved in his tablet to care about the new guests.

Tariq and Brayden give the same rundown they just gave Solay and Angel listens carefully. He rubs at his face in thought over this, on one instance this could go in their favor but on the other hand it could also go very wrong. It became knowledge to Angel that Cane was still keeping tabs on them and that didn’t sit right with him. This means they never knew what he would do or when he would do it, he was always unpredictable like that and the last thing Angel wanted was Cane messing up what he and Solay came so far to have together.

This was the first time Angel got to really start over and he knew from the beginning that Cane was not the one for Solay. Standing here now just proves that.

“We know a guy that can probably help you guys more than we can,” Angel says after a moment, his eyes meeting Solay’s as she nods her head also thinking the same thing.

Solay doesn’t say more as Angel moves to the driver seat, leaving her to tap and motion for Xavier to slide over before she reaches over to hold Maverick in the safety of her arms.

Brayden’s more antsy than Tariq is, who seems to have this calm but cautious demeanor analyzing everything around them just in case they needed to flee from the RV. His guard was secretly up but he did his research, he found out what Cane’s plan was coming out to California but wouldn’t realize how this would backfire on him.

Tariq didn’t care to know the full details on Cane’s fraudulent relationship with the braided woman but he could see the appeal in Solay. With the way she moved on her own, with Angel and interacted with the kids, there was power in her soothing aura. Tariq could tell that she was over it though and that she’s also been through some shit but if she wanted to fully dead the situation, she would even if that meant she didn’t have to get her hands dirty herself.

The drive from the desert into the Mountain View and ramps was not what Tariq was really used to on a daily but the ride was long enough. Angel’s soon pulling up on the side of the road before shutting the engine off.

“We’re here,” Angel says through the rear view mirror before unbuckling his seatbelt.

Solay looks in his direction before turning to the two boys, “before you ask, there’s a pay phone up ahead and you’re going to take this number and let him know that Majesty and Sunny sent you.”

Tariq takes the slip of paper from Solay who rocks Maverick on her lap, “How do we know you’re not setting us up?”

“You don’t.” Angel calls out while Solay blinks.

She shrugs, “that’s not the life we live anymore but if it’s to get the bad off our backs…hopefully this will be worth it.”

“Are you sure this guy will help us?”

“His ass is always into something despite the fact that he should be dead with the rest but I know he’s been itching to get into it. To get his hands on something again…he’s a dumbass just like you two.” Angel fills the two in while they share a look, unsure but knew they didn’t have much else to lose.

They didn’t have many on their side right now.

Solay chipped in as she rests her chin on top of Mavy’s dark hair, “And just like you used to be.”

“That’s before I became a dad.”

Solay hummed in disbelief.

“Alright before i became a better one!”

Tariq got to his feet now while the pair smiled at each other from across the vehicle, “aight thanks for looking out.”

“Sure…but promise me this will be the last time we see you.”

Brayden glanced at Tariq who stood by the stairs, “as long as this guy comes through.”

Solay tunes that response out.

“Uh wait, how do we know it’s him?” Brayden asks as Tariq heads towards the door but also pauses on the last step.

“…he goes by Guero.” Angel says as Tariq repeats the name with a nod of his head before pushing the door open.

Once both boys are off the RV and shut the door closed, Angel starts the engine again and pulls off leaving the boys behind to their own disarray.

Solay turns with one arm to pull Xavier to rest against her chest, her attention turning to the blur of trees lingering in the now partly cloudy sky, lost in the silence that she welcomes again while Angel briefly glances at the sight of her in the rear view, just wondering what’s going on inside of that head of her’s.

He hoped it was tranquility just like he was searching for within himself.

ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *ੈ ╭──╯ . . . *

Continue along with my September anthology prompts here.

[ladykailitha]

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write at least 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

My only problem is that I tend to file name what the title is so I can find it easier, so...here’s what they were called before I titled them.

“File” Names

Metal Band AU

Strip Club AU

Sugar baby!Steve/Sugar daddy!Eddie AU

Snippet

“Cher,” Eddie said to Chrissy, “how’s that crush coming now?”

Chrissy hit his arm. “Oh yeah, it was bad when she was just a cute waiter, but now she’s got this weird sibling relationship with the hottest dancer you’ve ever hired, this is way worse.”

“Glad you made the distinction about hired dancer,” he huffed. “If I‘m not the fairest of them all, I start throwing apples.”

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, we should have a fairy tale night where everyone dances to different fairy tales. With your looks you’d be perfect for Snow White. The pale skin, the dark hair, just add the red lips and it would be perfect.”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “We could even do it on a Sunday, because most of the fairy tales are about envy right? Snow White, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, even Hansel and Gretel. Start coming up with fairy tales you’d want to do and we start practicing for it.”

“You’ve got it, babe!” Chrissy said with a kiss on his cheek.

****

It's that great and wonderful time of the week again! WIP Wednesday!

You'll notice no Boy w/a Bat this week because I'm too close to the end and don't want it spoiled for you guys.

The game runs from 8am-11pm EST.

Send in as many asks as you want as often as you want.

@mira-jadeamethyst @zerokrox-blog @forgottenkanji @w1ll0wtr33 @thesecondfate

@acingthecounts @beelze-the-bubkiss @just-a-tiny-void @kultiras @niniel-karenine

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

If you're not comfortable writing this that's completely okay

Can I request Eddie with an FTM Reader boyfriend who has really bad cramps and he's dysphoric because he's on his period, and Eddie tries his best to help?

This could go from cuddles to "sex helps with cramps right?" With a sprinkle of breeding kink?

Again if you're uncomfortable, I understand

Hi, thanks for the request and your patience. I feel really touched that you feel safe enough to come with me for this request! As a note, I am not a trans man and thus, my depiction of this event will not be fully accurate. If there is anything that I have portrayed inaccurately, please let me know and I’ll be happy to correct it and learn more. I am completing this request in the hopes to allow others to be seen and to create more space for trans people in the community. 

Disclaimer: Some of what has been portrayed in this blurb is based off the interviews and research conducted in the article, “Queering Menstruation: Trans and Non-Binary Identity and Body Politics” by Sarah Frank. I recognize one article is not enough to get a full picture of an entire community. But I hope there is something that this fic gets right for folks and that it expands this conversation even just a tiny bit. 

CW: This request does deal with periods and feelings of dysphoria. If that triggers you, please do not read. Seriously--don’t do it. There is a read more higher up than I usually do to accommodate. 

Eddie Munson x Trans!Male Reader. Reader is 20.

Send me a request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

_____________________________________

There is a cruelty to it all--you’re sure of it. As you’re curled up under the sheets, back of your hands wiping at your cheeks, you are sure that this has to fall under the stark definition of cruel and unusual punishment. The worst part of it all is that it’s not unusual. One week out of every month--it’s supposed to be natural and yet, something about it hangs like an anvil ready to take your head. Maybe it’s the language--what you grew up around. Maybe it’s more than that, maybe it will always be more than that. But the inescapable fact of your reality is that you are here--curled up under sheets. 

To make matters worse, the cramps are horrible this time. So much so you puked at work and got sent up. It’s a reminder of a simple fact: this body isn’t really yours. Not yet anyway. This body is not doing everything you wish it wouldn’t. This body still doesn’t show who you really are. But you’re carrying it around, all 206 bones, all twenty feet of small intestines, fingers, toes, elbows, eyeballs. You’re carrying around a body that still mocks you for an entire week out of the month. Twelve weeks in a year. Much too long to suffer and too many times to feel like the butt of a cruel twisted joke. 

“Baby?”

You turn your head, pulling it up off the pillow just enough to see Eddie’s head peeking in through the door. His eyes are still big, wet, and bright even in streaks of daylight behind the partially open curtains. “Hi,” you whisper. Your voice is thick and rough--probably from the lack of water. 

“How-how can I help?”

It’s like Eddie knows. You rest your head back onto your pillows and let out a sigh. “I-” you start, and then stop hearing how your voice catches in your throat. When you blink, tears fall down your eyes, along the apple of your cheek down to your ears. “Don’t know,” you conclude.

Eddie’s careful and quiet as he approaches. The bed dips and you can hear him shucking off the layers. He doesn’t unravel you from your sheets. Instead, he curls one arm around your waist and rest his cheek against yours. There’s some scruff, no doubt from the couple of days that have lapsed since his last shave. 

The thought lights your chest on fire. It’s a soothing tactile sensation. You wish you could bury it pores of your skin. You want turn, face Eddie better and when you go to plant your feet, a sharp zing of pain runs from your spine to your stomach. The movements are paused and you bury your head in your pillow before the shaky shout climbs out of your chest. The frustration--sadness and fear intertwined as well--bubble up and out of your lips into the pillow. Eddie’s arm squeezes around your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft against your cheek. “Hey, I got you, sweet boy. It’s okay.”

He means well. You know he does. You try to focus on the soft and steady pass of Eddie’s palm over your stomach. It’s reassuring just a little. It lets you know you’re not physically alone. 

“There’s gotta be something I can do. Tea? I think I can be trusted not to burn down a kitchen to fix some tea. Hot compress?” Eddie’s fingers find your chin, sliding up to your cheek. He wipes away some of the fresh tears that have fallen. “Please,” he whispers. 

You can’t tell if he’s pleading with you or some unfathomable force of the universe. You hope whoever is out there listens. 

“I don’t know if I can move right now,” you whisper out shakily. “I’m not even sure I’m thinking at all.”

“Greg said he had to send you home. Said you puked.”

You nod. “I did.”

“You take anything yet for the cramps?”

The words makes your skin crawl, and you try not to react physically to it. “I fell asleep once I got home. I think I got crackers and ginger ale down.”

The bed shifts again. Eddie’s warmth leaves your back and side with the shift. There’s a crinkle somewhere to the left of you. “If this is a fresh sleeve, you only got a couple down.”

“Sounds about right,” you hum. 

“Did you keep it down?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Eddie’s hair greets you before he does, some wisps of the ends falling around your nose. “You stay here. Don’t move a muscle and I’ll be back in a minute okay?”

“Okay.” That much you can do. 

You can only listen to the shuffle. The bathroom door cracks open, the medicine cabinet clicking open. There's a rattle and you're pretty positive that it’s Eddie grabbing some meds. There’s more clicking. The light from the hallway dims and then Eddie’s shadows pass along the walls. He’s further now from you, probably in the kitchen. You listen and listen and listen. 

“Can you do me a solid?” Eddie asks. 

You catch his body halfway hanging inside the room as he rests his weight against the wall and the door. “Depends.”

“Ah, there he is. But what’s your favorite mug?”

Your brows furrow at the question. “I-I don’t have a favorite mug.”

“Nonsense. You have to have that one mug or cup that if you drink something out of it it just tastes better. Now c’mon cough if up.”

You laugh--not that you really want to, but because the question is so ridiculously Eddie that you can’t help it. “Uh, there’s a mug from my trip to Arizona that I really like.”

“Got it, Arizona mug. Thank you, lovebug.” Eddie’s gone again, you watch him disappear this time. 

“Arizona mug does have a nice ring to it,” you mutter to yourself. You blink your gaze over to the alarm clock to check the time. It’s just before 4. You got sent home from work around 11 this morning. 

Eddie has a ritual--comes by your job after work and hang out until the end of your shift, usually around 4:30. You two usually head to someone’s place--his or yours. There’s some TV or a rental if you two didn’t get to it over the weekend. Usually you play a game with Eddie---he barters with you about helping with dinner and you tell him he has to complete at least two homework assignments. It always ends with you letting him do some of the prep if it’s more involved and then you taking over at the end. 

And it means today, Eddie went to your job, probably worried about the lack of your car being there and then came racing to your place once your boss let Eddie know you’d been sick at work. You hope it wasn’t too bad of a scare. There was no way for you to get the information to him while he was in school that wouldn’t cause him to skip. Maybe it’s selfish. But if you’re honest, you just couldn’t deal. You didn’t want to verbalize it. Thankfully, you hadn’t to fully. 

You’re sure after the first two waves of this, Eddie can put the pieces together. You’re grateful that he’s giving you the grace. But you know you have to push yourself up soon. It’s going to suck. You hope you don’t vomit again when you do. If only could have a body that didn’t hate you. 

You take a deep breathe--inhaling in through your nose and then pushing it all out through slightly parted lips. “Just to the bathroom. It’s okay.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to move a muscle?”

“I-it’s just I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Eddie nods, a hum leaving his throat. “Not before some meds.” You nod, taking the few pills from him and swallow it down without taking the cup of water. “Metal,” he snorts in return. 

“I try to when I can. Can you help me up please?”

“Of course, yeah.” Eddie sets the mug, denoting the stop in Phoenix, Arizona, and scoops you up from your seated position. 

“I am a full human being, you know, right? A grown man, thank you,” You huff, allowing Eddie to carry you to the bathroom. It’s a little shaky at first, but he gets you there. 

“Just because you have a tax paying job does not mean you get to boast about it.” 

“It’s not like I’m making the big bucks, or anything.”

“It’s something. A job someone has to do.”

“Riveting work it is to be a line cook,” you snort. The two of you cross the threshold into the bathroom then. Before Eddie sets you down, you bury your face in his shoulder. You want to tell yourself it’s okay. But it doesn’t feel okay. Nothing feels okay. “Just one more second.”

“Take all the seconds you need.”

You don’t need to tell Eddie that if you wait too long you’re probably bleed all over him. But you highly doubt he’d care. But it’s already awful enough dealing with the period by itself, you don’t think you’d have the mental capacity to handle ruining Eddie’s clothes and yours at the same time. 

You inhale--the musk of Eddie’s cigarettes, cheap cologne, the slight twinge of sweat from P.E. no doubt and try to still the racing thoughts. Just a few more days. But that’s just for now. Then there will be a next time. “Fuck this!” you huff.

“I’ve got something else you can fuck that’s for sure,” Eddie snorts. 

You huff a life, nothing serious, but it’s just enough. Eddie kisses your temple. You take another inhale and then nod. “I’m okay.”

It’s not without a grunt and the crack of a knee that Eddie sets you down. “Good God,” you tease. “You’re getting old.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you have something I can fuck.”

Eddie’s touch on your cheek is tender. “I do. I always do, but only if you want it.”

“Such a gentleman,” you coo. You mean it to come out with some bite, but it comes out gooey like melting chocolate from your throat. 

“Only when you deserve it,” Eddie snarks. “I save it for special occasions.”

“Like you don’t look at me like I’ve hung the stars when you have sex.”

“While that may be true!” Eddie huffs, cheeks turning red. “Fucking sue me for loving my boyfriend, okay? God. Now, I’m going to leave. And you only need to shout if you need me okay.”

You nod in response. “I love you too, Eds.”

Eddie’s grin lights up his whole face, like it always does. Watching him smile feels like you’re basking in a ray of the sun. It warms you top to bottom, and you’re never really able to stare him directly in the face, lest it blind you. He presses another kiss to your lips. “Now, all offers are still on the table once you’re done. I’ve read orgasms help with cramps.”

“Maybe once the meds dull some of this.”

“Sounds delicious. I await with bated breaths.” Eddie’s steps take him over the threshold, hands locked aroun the door handle. “But seriously, holler if you need me, okay?”

You nod, a soft affirmative falling from your lips. The door slips shut. You wait a beat, then two. You pop the doors to the under sink cabinet, grab what you need and then watch the door again. “Holler,” you state. Nothing louder than your usual volume and the door cracks open. 

Eddie’s face peers around the crack. “Yes, baby?”

“Just missed you,” you return. That and you’re trying to ground yourself again, remind yourself you’re on Earth. 

“Missing you too. You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll be done in a second.”

He nods, backs out of the crack and then shuts the door again. “I was thinking though, like, there’s a really cool mug in the cabinets you got. It’s a Scooby Doo mug. And I’m thinking there’s no way the Arizona mug is your favorite. I mean, Scooby Doo is right there.”

You’re still on Earth--and whatever that meant you weren’t sure. But you’re glad to be Earthside with Eddie. Poised with the pad in hand, you sigh. “Eddie, you cannot berate my mug choices while I’m sitting on the toilet. Didn’t Wayne tell you to never kick a man while he’s down?”

Eddie’s laughter floats in through the crack under the door.

[toaster-hair]

There’s a Human in the Neighborhood! chapter 3 part 1

(Theres not really anything gross in this chapter, its like a part 1 to the next chapter. Also, some accidental reader x howdy!)

The sun hit you right in your eyes as you woke up. You got up and stretched a bit, your eyes feeling groggy. You rubbed them a bit to get the eye boogers out. By this point, you were quite well adjusted to your sweet little puppet town. One odd thing though, other than the fact that every other resident was a puppet, was the odd lack of an economy. Almost everyone were unemployed, and were always offering things out for free. You, on the other hand, still had to pay for all of your human things. You were still living off the money you brought with you. You actually applied to a new job only a town away not too long ago, and your first day starts today! You were just glad your neighbors were kind enough not to make you pay for anything for so long.

Sally was an actress, but she really only put on plays for her friends. You certainly hadn’t seen her in any movies before.

Frank was a Lepidopterologist, but he didn’t really seem to do anything with that degree. Other than like, stalking Howdy.

Speaking of Howdy, he was one of the two neighbors with an actual job. And he didn’t even ask to be payed in money! He only asked to be payed in jokes or observations, he used to occasionally ask for payment in a kiss on the cheek, but Wally would always stare at you two when you did, so he eventually just stopped asking. The only other neighbor with a paying job was…

“Oh, howdy Y/N! You’re right on time, I have a letter just for you!” Eddie greeted you as you walked out of your house. You smiled and waved, taking the letter out of his hand. It was from your parents, which was odd. Even if this town seemed a bit old fashioned, you still had modern tech. They could have just called you or better yet just sent a text. Eddie watched you open the envelope in your hand. To your surprise, there was 100 dollars inside! “Wow, Y/N, thats a lot of money! What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m probably going to use some of it to pay for my train ticket. Say, what do you do with your money?” you asked him. “Oh, why don’t you follow me?”

You followed him into Howdy’s place. Wally was in there, crunching an apple with those pretty eyes of his. “Y/N!!” he got up from his seat, holding onto your knee and looking up at you. “Oh, hello honey.” Howdy greeted you. Wally snapped his head back to look at him. Eddie walked over to the counter and began to talk to Howdy. You couldn’t really hear him because Wally was calling for your attention, asking you how you’ve been as he hadn’t seen you that much recently, asking you what you plan on buying and how you’re going to spend your day. 

“Oh honey!” Howdy called you over “Come on, we’re going in the backroom.” You blushed a bit, this pet naming was pretty new, so you weren’t used to it. Wally slowly let go of your leg as he watched you make your way over there. Howdy opened the backroom door for you and Eddie, letting it close behind him. Inside the backroom was multiple large jars full of money.

“You see Y/N,” Eddie started to explain to you “As a community, we all decided it was better to just not use money. That it would be better to provide our services for free for eachother. Overtime, we learned how to live without much care to money, living off of stuff we could find easily without pinching a single penny. Any kind of money we get or find we put in these jars. Howdy has to buy stuff for his shop, so hes usually the only one taking money out of these jars. But if one of our neighbors needs help paying for something, like say installing a toilet, we’ll gladly crack a jar open for them.” You nodded as he explained. “So, if you feel as though you have too much money, you can just come here and add it to a jar. Only if you want to, we won’t force you.”

“We thought making everyone work jobs would make everyone unhappy.” Howdy chimed in. “So, it’s really only us handling the money. Do you have a job, Y/N?” 

“Oh yeah, I do actually. I’m starting today.” You then checked the time on your watch, horrified. You were late! You ran out of the building in a rush, waving everyone goodbye, as you ran to the train station.

[lovebugism]

omg omg omg I can’t wait for tcar part 9 🥹 I miss eddie spaghetti and peach so much 🥹🥹🥹

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | sunshine, sometimes

summary: the gang searches for peace of mind at lake lemon. after an enlightening conversation with steve, eddie unknowingly stirs up a storm. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader, mentions of past steve harrington / f!reader

tags: experienced!reader, idiots in love, domestic bliss (road trip edition), newly established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, the gang's all here! TW probable typos, swearing, mentions of b*lly h*rgrove and toxic relationships, kissing, heavy petting, fingering, eddie coming in his pants (vol. 3), smut 18+

( PREVIOUS ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You think it’s entirely possible that you made Eddie up in your head.

Sleeping next to you, painted in satin shades of pale pink and milky white, he looks exactly like a dream.

His curls are wild, spread across his face and cotton pillow in a chestnut-colored halo around his head. Soft snores billow from his rosy mouth in heavy, even breaths — a heavenly sound you think could lull you back to sleep all over again. His long lashes flutter against the flushed apple of his cheek, made a gentle strawberry shade from the ardor of his slumber. The soft color splotches the tip of his nose and the plush of his lips.

Eddie’s made of all the prettiest colors you wish you could paint. Maybe then he’d finally see himself the way you do. He possesses an otherworldly kind of beauty — one bordering on religious — something holy people used to sacrifice themselves for.

And here he is. In your bed and on your mouth, like a vivid ruby lipstick stain you’re not rushing to rub out just yet. Or ever, if you had anything to say about it.

“I can feel you staring, weirdo,” Eddie mumbles, slurred and heavy with sleep. The words come out muffled because his face is shoved into the pillow.

You’re not as embarrassed at getting caught as you probably should be. 

You could deny it if you wanted. His eyes are still shut. You’ve got every ounce of plausible deniability to defend yourself with, but for some strange reason, you don’t feel the urge to. He was far too pretty not to be unabashedly examined, like a piece of art you could stare at for ages and find something new in every time.

“Really?” you hum in return, voice as quiet with leftover fatigue as your sleepy smile. “I didn’t know my boyfriend had superpowers.”

The smile that tugs at Eddie’s mouth is absentminded but no less sincere. It’s lopsided and rosy and full of all the love he has for you. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of being called your boyfriend. He figures his chest will swell every time he hears the words — as long as they spill from your mouth, anyway.

“You weren’t supposed to know about that,” he teases quietly — eyes still shut, grin still pressed into the pillow.

“I can keep a secret,” you promise in a whisper. Your hand rises from beneath the fluffy comforter to spread across his cheek. Your palm settles warmly at his jaw as your fingers brush a few rogue curls from his forehead. “As long as you give me a kiss for it.”

Eddie’s smile, weighed down by sleep and adoration, only widens at your words. 

His button eyes are swollen as he blinks the haze of sleep from them. It feels a little like his heart has stopped when he’s able to see you clearly. 

It’s like he’s looking down a high-up cliff or staring into the deep abyss of outer space — a warm, empty, and lurching feeling in his chest that only comes from witnessing something so profound.

The profundity in question is you.

It’s your wild hair and puffy cheeks and crooked smile. It’s the way your swollen eyes twinkle with adoration at an ungodly hour of the morning. The way your honey voice seems to match the golden sunrise. You’re an angel in the flesh — a divinely ethereal being wearing his Hellfire tee to sleep in. 

The beauty you are takes him by surprise for all of half a second. It makes him forget how to breathe and makes his brain go all fuzzy. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time every time he looks at you.

“Well, as long as it’ll keep you quiet,” Eddie huffs, feigning annoyance, as he lifts his head off the pillow to settle onto yours. 

His plush lips press against your subtle smile a second later. Your mouths entwine something heavy, like maple syrup or marshmallow fluff — a kiss so full of sleep and distant longing.

But that’s all it is. A kiss. It’s nothing more than an innocuous peck that Eddie stamps upon your mouth. His nose smushes into the side of yours, and he’s gone as quickly as he came. 

Your shut eyes flutter open again. They widen when Eddie ducks down for another sneaking peck. He lingers a few moments longer this time, like he can’t quite get enough of you the same way you can never seem to get enough of him.

Your grin grows. You feel a bit like you’re glittering all over when Eddie settles back onto the mattress. But maybe that’s just the rising sun peeking in flaxen shades from the window — or maybe it’s love sparkling like orange embers in your chest. Maybe it’s both. 

Maybe loving Eddie feels pink and gold like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

It’s just as easy, anyway.

“Ooh,” you singsong with a smile as you prop yourself on your elbow. “Two for one deal, huh?”

The boy shrugs one shoulder. His leadened lids fall over his chocolate syrup eyes when sleep threatens to pull him under again. He shifts against the mattress to get comfortable, though it’s much harder without you pressed against him.

“I gotta secret identity to protect, sweets. Gotta make sure we keep it under wraps and everything, you know?” The tired boy’s mumbles are followed by a hearty yawn that scrunches his sleep-ridden features.

“Well, you can pry this secret from my cold, dead hands,” you lilt quietly, leaning down to sprinkle a featherlight kiss to his flushed cheek. His skin is warm against your mouth, rosy with a good night’s sleep.

“Well, except for Robin,” you whisper shortly thereafter. “I have to tell Robin.”

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh.

“And Steve, too. He’ll be mad if I tell Robin and not him.”

“Right,” Eddie scoffs with a tired nod against his pillow.

You can tell he’s trying hard to stay awake for you. He’d done this the night before, too — kept talking to you even though his body was threatening to shut down after a long day of school and road-tripping. You’d called him out on it then, and he confessed that it hurt too much to stop talking to you. He said he’d rather be exhausted than miss you, even for the faintest fraction of a second.

A smile hints at the corners of your lips as you stare down at the boy. You duck down once more to brush a fleeting kiss to the warm apple of his cheek — there and gone again. 

Eddie sighs at the heavenly feeling, then scrunches his features in annoyance when the mattress shifts beneath him.

“Where are you going?” he grouses over the sound of your padding feet and the door creaking open. He’s got one tired eye squinted when he rises to look at you over his shoulder. His untamed curls are as drenched with sleep as the rest of his softly swollen features.

You stand in the doorway and smile back at him. You don’t look nearly as exhausted as he does. That’s only because you spent the better part of the morning ogling at him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

It wouldn’t change anything, anyway.

Slumber looks too good on you. It’s got you glowing like a pink and orange sunrise, grinning like the morning dew has kissed you. It’s a very distinct part of your beauty that took Eddie several days of unabashed staring to understand. You’ve got a far-off kind of quality about you, dreamlike. 

You’re a nymph made of flower petals with unearthly eyes and angelic lips. You’re a swan princess who’s enchanted his imagination. His mind can’t go anywhere without bumping into thoughts of you — like some romantic spell you’ve cast upon him.

Still a bit grumpy with sleep and overcome with yearning, Eddie makes a mental note to add you to a future campaign. What better way to tell someone you love them than by making them your muse, solidifying them in the history of you forever?

“I’m gonna tell everyone that my boyfriend is basically the metalhead equivalent of Clark Kent,” you joke with a crooked smile that flashes your similarly crooked teeth.

The door creaks when it shuts behind you. Eddie’s chest aches with the empty feeling of missing you. The warmth of adoration lingers, however, as though you’d never left at all.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Thankfully, no one had gotten Jason Voorhees-ed while you were sleeping.

You make your rounds about the cabin, peeking into darkened bedrooms and making sure everyone was where you’d left them. You knew Robin hadn’t truly meant her words from the day before, about Ted Bundy or some equivalent creep stalking the woods of Lake Lemon. She’s sincere but in a blatantly irrational sort of way. Sweet but slightly insane. She’s an illogical genius that unintentionally gets in your head.

You’re grateful to find that you hadn’t woken up in the middle of slasher film, however. You’re able to exhale a trembling sigh of relief as you walk into the kitchen.

Steve The Hair Harrington unknowingly keeps you company as you break out the supplies needed to make a couple of teenagers a sufficient breakfast. His soft snores fill the quiet cabin from where he’s sprawled out in the center of the pull-out couch in the living room. He’s twisted in a thin white sheet and gripping a single pillow like his life depends on it.

He used to hold you like that, too. Like you were a buoy in an ocean and the only thing keeping him afloat. He’d cage you in his arms with a grip that only seemed to intensify with his sleep. It felt like being suffocated almost. But in a good way.

The memory is glittering with reminiscence instead of soaking in heartache. 

You don’t miss being with Steve, nor do you miss the person you were when you were with him. You do miss the closeness of him, though — in the simplest, most human way. Also, you just really like taking the piss out of him and all his little idiosyncrasies.

With his sleeping form so near, everything you do feels so much louder in the quiet. The fridge closes too aggressively, the eggs crack too sharply, the cabinets close too harshly. You grimace with every noise you make, checking over your shoulder to make sure Steve hadn’t heard from across the room.

He hadn’t. ‘Cause he tends to sleep like he’s hibernating.

He doesn’t rouse when a humming car crunches against gravel when it pulls into the driveway outside — or when the bowl of pancake batter in your hands clatters to the countertop accordingly.

The milky white concoction sways in the container, splashing in pearly dots onto the gray granite. You’re too distracted to focus on the mess. Your heart starts to race at the appearance of the sudden visitor with the irrational thought that Ted Bundy was strolling up to your doorstep like some kind of offbeat traveling salesman. 

God, you need to stop hanging out with Robin so much. Or watching so many horror movies. Maybe both.

Because it’s only Nancy. 

It’s sweet, beautiful, lithe Nancy Wheeler and her beat-up Station Wagon. 

Her curly hair is cropped at her shoulders, hastily combed through and pinned out of her face with a butterfly clip. Her pretty pink skirt swishes around her knees as she reaches for a leather satchel in the backseat. Her purple and white Emerson College tee is tucked into it, matching the same-colored Converse on her feet.

“Hey,” she greets with a pretty wave and delicate smile when she catches sight of you in the doorway.

“Hi…” you respond, mixed with a breathy sigh of what should be relief. 

Because she isn’t Ted Bundy — or some local Lake Lemon serial killer. She’s far too pretty and far too kind to be either of those. But your heart still thrums something fierce against your ribcage when you look at her. You’re still drenched with ice-cold fear when you know you should be relieved.

But despite your clammy trembling hands, you hold the door open for her.

She winces at the sight of Steve’s sleeping figure on the couch, ocean eyes widening at his freckled back peeking from beneath the thin sheet. Her footsteps become noticeably lighter as you lead her into the kitchen. 

It’s far too big for just the two of you. The open space is filled only with a distant awkwardness and the potent smell of sweet vanilla you’d dropped into the pancake batter.

“Sorry…” Nancy grimaces as she sets her bag on the dining table, as though her company was something she needed to be excused for. Her bushy brows pinch together, and her doe-eyes swim with apology. “I know I was supposed to be here last night…”

You shift your weight on your feet across from her, arms wrapping around yourself for further comfort. She’s just a few feet away from you, but the distance feels cavernous.

“Yeah, is— is everything, you know… okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just— it’s dumb,” Nancy scoffs out a laugh, shrugging off your worry with ease. Her gaze flits to the ceiling. You can see smudged eyeliner around her eyes, like she’s still wearing yesterday’s makeup. “I got carried away with the school paper after school, and I didn’t get home until late, and I… I figured I should just wait until morning to make the drive, you know?

You nod slowly in response — for a couple seconds too long, maybe — as you think of what else to say. “Well, was, uh— was traffic okay, at least?”

“Yeah. It was fine,” she answers and bites back a yawn. “People around here are amazing drivers, you know, so… It was a perfect, anxiety-free three hours.”

Her plush pink lips curl into a smile. 

Yours follow suit, but the breathy laugh that spills from them feels much more forced.

“You’re probably tired, huh?” you wonder, then ramble before she can answer you. “I could get Steve to move upstairs with Robin— or Robin can come down here, and you can take the bed. Unless you wanna share with her, but fair warning, she does kick in her sleep, so…”

A giggle spills from Nancy’s mouth. It’s a soft, bubbly sound that squints the edges of her eyes. Her pointed chin tucks to her chest like she’s trying to hide the gentle grin from you. 

You can’t tell if she finds your babbling amusing or endearing like Eddie does. 

You quickly realize you don’t care — you’re just proud that you’ve made her smile. And, fuck, you can’t even blame Steve for wanting her more than you because look at her. You should hate her, yet you can’t take your eyes off her.

“No, I’m good. We can… deal with all that when everyone wakes up, I guess,” she dismisses with a shake of her head. 

You vaguely catch her eyes darting past you to the tornado of breakfast behind you — a whirlwind of uncooked food, miscellaneous containers, and crumbled napkins. It’s a mess only a gentle, well-meaning child could make. That’s what you feel like most days, anyway, so you guess it kind of fits.

“Do you want help with breakfast?” Nancy wonders when her gaze flits back to you.

You can’t tell if she’s asking to be kind or if she really wants to. You decline either way. “No. You’ve— You’ve been driving all morning.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a wavering smile.

Her grin is equally sheepish. She falters, a tad bit awkwardly at first, before mumbling something and heading out the back door to explore.

A trembling sigh of relief shakes through your chest when the sliding glass door swishes shut behind her. 

It gets better over time — the preliminary tension that settles like suffocating humidity between the two of you — but it never gets any easier. A forgive but can’t forget sort of rigidity you can’t quite smooth out.

You get only a few more minutes of uninterrupted solitude after Nancy’s gone. The last bit of peace you’re bound to have all day.

A door clicks open and shut again from down the hallway, followed by the subtle scuff of socked feet against carpet. 

Your eyes widen softly when Dustin appears from around the corner, though you figure you really shouldn’t be surprised. Of course he was the kid that woke up before the rest of his friends. You feel a bit like you should fix him a cup of black coffee while he reads the business section of the newspaper. He’s far more mature than you were at fourteen.

“Oh,” you hum quietly, a soft smile twitching at the edges of your lips. “Morning.”

Dustin’s swollen eyes squint at you. His gaze darts around the room, as wild as the chestnut curls on his head. It’s strange not seeing him in his usual Thinking Cap. He looks a little foreign in his baggy blue Scooby Doo pajama pants and baggier yellow Camp Know-Where tee.

“Where’s Eddie?” he wonders aloud when he turns back to you, like he can’t quite fathom seeing one of you without the other somewhere nearby.

Your chest aches. You don’t know why. 

Well, you do, but you figure it shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does. 

Dustin was Eddie’s friend. He had zero obligation to care about you the same way. He didn’t have to like you past his not-so-subtle admiration for your boyfriend, but it still hurts that he doesn’t think you’re as cool.

“Uh… Still sleeping. I think,” you lilt, voice as high and light as the salty breeze slipping past the slightly ajar backdoor.

“Oh. Okay.” Dustin nods and doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t seem as weighed down by the silence as you are. He peeks over his shoulder at Steve’s rousing figure on the couch and then at the pots and pans of food on the counter. His tired blue eyes fill with light when they flit at you again. “Can I help?”

He’s suddenly aglow with a boyish sort of enthusiasm. His bushy brows raise and a smile pulls at his face, and you find it dreadfully hard to tell him no.

“Sure. If you want to, but—” You’re about to prattle on and on about how he shouldn’t feel obligated to. That he’s a kid on vacation and can sleep in if he wants. That he shouldn’t have to worry about helping you if he doesn’t really want to.

But he’s already walking to the sink, flipping on the faucet so he can wash his hands.

Your aching heart swells with warmth.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The rest of your friends wake up one by one.

Mike and El come out shortly after Dustin, the latter already dressed for the day. She’s a ray of sunshine compared to her grumpy boyfriend. His hair is a wild raven halo, and his cheeks are lined with indentions from the sheets. El hangs on his arm in a pair of jean coveralls, sparkling like the cerulean waters outside. 

“Wanna call Hopper?” you ask the blushing girl from where you scramble eggs at the stove.

She nods with her cheek smushed into Mike’s shoulder, eyes wide and sheepish like she’s embarrassed about wanting to talk to her dad. You don’t blame her for it. You tend to call Hopper after most minor inconveniences. 

Dustin mans the kitchen while you help her with the telephone. He’s very meticulous about the cooking, like he’s got flipping pancakes down to a science. He’s too good of a sous-chef for you to get mad at him for stealing from the stack every now and then.

Robin and Max are sitting at the dining table by the time you get back. They’re practically zombies, silent and grumpy, with their freckled features scrunched like they take offense to the early morning.

Lucas is the last of the kids to come out, though a part of you thinks it might’ve been intentional. 

He’s traded his pajamas for day clothes — Hawkins Tigers track pants and a fitted t-shirt. He idles in the kitchen for several long moments with his trembling hands balled into fists. You can tell he wants to sit next to Max. The thought of rejection keeps him from gravitating towards her, though. Instead, he stands at the counter next to Dustin and tries to hide his grieving.

Steve comes second to last — which is strange, because he was the first one there in a sense. The volume in the kitchen grows too loud for him to ignore. When he comes to the begrudging realization that there’s no falling back to sleep, he decides to join the rest of you.

His feet trudge down the hall when he returns from the bathroom. The only remnants of slumber he wears are the sweatpants and wrinkled t-shirt he’d thrown on sometime after waking up. His structured features are seemingly too sharp to be weighed down by fatigue.

“Where are those little shits going?” he wonders in the place of any actual greeting. He eyes Mike and El as they depart through the sliding glass door. His bushy brows scrunch in confusion and distant worry — neither of which ever seem to leave him.

“Probably to talk to Nancy—”

“What?” Steve sputters, wide-eyed and gaped mouth. “Nancy’s— Nancy’s here?”

Your brows pinch at his shock. You scrape fluffy yellow eggs from the skillet into a large bowl, fit to feed a sizable family — yours of which has squeezed like sardines into this cabin. “Well… You did invite her, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…” he trails off, features twisted in puzzlement. His anxious hands prop against his sweatpant-clad waist. “When did she get in?”

“This morning—”

His eyes fly open once more. His head whips over his shoulder, like he might see her standing there, then turns back to gape at you again. “And you didn’t wake me up?”

You scoff a faint laugh at him. “Why would I wake you up?”

“‘Cause he’s in love with her,” Dustin answers for him, mouth full of the pancake he grips in his right hand. “Obviously.”

“Shut up,” Steve squints at him with all the annoyance of an older sibling despite having been an only child all his life. His irked features relax when his cinnamon gaze flits to you. “Where is she now?”

“Uh… She went for a walk a while ago,” you answer absentmindedly, as though she hadn’t been on your mind the whole time. “I think she’s sitting out by the beach waiting for everyone to get up now, though.”

You and Steve share similarly narrowed eyes when you look out the kitchen window. The brunette girl sits at the square table outside the cabin. You can only see the profile of her pointed features as she smiles up at her younger brother and his girlfriend — a look so full of annoyance it can only be love.

“Maybe take it down a few notches before you try to talk to her, alright, Stevie?” Robin teases from the dining table.

“Yeah,” Lucas lilts with a slow nod, obviously playful in his dogpiling. He leans against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, trying hard not to smile too wide. “You look a little crazy right now, man.”

“It’s only ‘cause you little shits drive me crazy,” Steve defends in a monotone.

“Go tell her breakfast is almost done,” you advise with a sincere smile, though your eyes sparkle with mischief. “You can use that as an excuse to talk to her instead of whatever bullshit you were about to make up.”

Steve nods with a flat face. “Thanks, Peach.”

Dustin and Lucas help you transport the containers of food to the rectangle dining table — pancakes, eggs, sausage, and only halfway stale biscuits. Basically whatever leftover groceries you could find in the cupboards and the fridge.

Steve is too busy idling in one place to bother helping. With his eyes trained on the sliding glass door, it’s too apparent that he’s in his own head. He’s trying hard to work up the courage to talk to a girl he’s known for years now. 

As you sit in your seat at the table — beside Robin, across from Max, with a spare chair open for Eddie on your other side — you watch the fidgeting boy from over your shoulder. His pointed features harden slightly with his newfound bravery, his chest puffing with a wavering breath in. You watch him take a firm step towards the door, but he’s stopped in place by three bodies already walking towards it.

Nancy was already on her way back, with Mike and El at her side. Steve had been too late  — too doubtful of himself, too frightened of the pushed-away problems he’d caused. He’s forced to share awkward, trembling smiles with his first love and not a thing more. 

You feel his heartache as if it were your own.

Eddie’s footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the spiral staircase when he finally comes down.

Your heart warms at the very sight of him, as though you were looking at the rest of your life in the flesh — wild hair, swollen eyes, wrinkled t-shirt, and all. It’s too early to smile as wide as you do.

“Morning, Eds,” you greet, because everyone’s too busy stuffing their faces or writhing in unrequited love to do it for you.

His lips curl into a soft smile, weighed down by fatigue but rosy with his love for you. The pink expression grows when he sees the full table and the seat you left open for him. “Morning, sweetheart,” he lilts in response.

“How convenient,” Dustin squints from the head of the table, adjacent to Lucas and Eddie’s vacant seat. He’s got scrambled egg clinging to the side of his mouth as he chastises, “You show up right when breakfast is done.”

“Sorry, Dusty Bun,” Eddie apologizes with a teasing inflection that would imply that he’s not actually sorry. His chair scrapes against the kitchen tile when he pulls it out from under the table. “It’s not my fault I have impeccable timing.”

Your eyes dart to the boy standing beside you. They dance across his sleep-ridden features as your lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile. 

You know better than anyone that he’s only ever late to everything. The only time you can count on him being early is if there’s a Hellfire campaign or when he’s coming in his jeans. 

Eddie grows sheepish with the same understanding. His cheeks flush with a poorly hidden smirk as he sits down next to you. “Don’t say anything, Peach,” he mutters quietly to you.

The table, now sufficiently full, seems to thrum with life. Whether they’re picking at their food like Steve and Lucas, or stuffing their faces like Dustin and Robin, you can’t help but smile softly at each of them. 

They feel like family — like you’ve upped and carried your home with you three hours away. You’d forgotten what not being alone felt like before now. Your chest swells with a newfound life you didn’t even know you were missing.

“Uh, did everyone pack a bathing suit?” you wonder aloud with a bright smile on your face, a measly question to fill the silence and the sound of silverware against porcelain plates.

Everyone nods and hums soft “yeah”’s with their mouths full — except for Eddie. 

The boy beside you stills with his fork in front of his mouth. His dark eyes go wide as he looks over at you. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters in the place of an answer. “I was supposed to pack a bathing suit?”

You find his forgetful disposition rather endearing. You can too easily imagine him standing in the middle of his bedroom, mouthing everything you told him to pack while counting them on his fingers. You can see his brows furrowing with a distant pout while he asks himself “what the hell am I forgetting?”

You’re too in love to be annoyed with him — or ill-prepared.

“I packed trunks for you. It’s okay,” you murmur in response, voice as quiet as the smile you look at him with.

Eddie’s chest aches. It’s too warm to be his heart breaking — too fluffy and sticky and sweet. It’s a burning sort of pain that can only be pure, unadulterated love. 

“God, you are the woman of my dreams, baby,” he confesses lowly, mostly to himself.

You only hear the words leave his mouth because he’s leaning in to kiss you. You don’t meet him halfway, but instead grin softly at his efforts, which you know are bound to be interrupted.  

“Hey!” Dustin scolds through the bite of biscuit in his mouth. “No kissing at the table!”

Robin licks syrup from the corner of her mouth, then concurs through her pancakes, “Yeah. You wanna make everybody here puke or what?”

“Or what,” you answer the rhetorical question, meeting her deadpanned expression with a smile. You tilt your head to your shoulder and scrunch your nose. “Preferably, at least.”

“How about everyone just keep their hands to themselves, yeah?” Steve advises in a monotone. His honey eyes flit around the table with a significant focus on you and Eddie and Mike and El. He waves his fork in his hand, still piercing the cooled piece of scrambled egg he hasn’t eaten yet. “How about that?”

“Okay, Hopper,” you scoff to yourself.

El snorts a quiet laugh from across the table, on Max’s other side.

Steve flashes you an annoyed glance from across Robin sitting between the two of you. Despite his monotoned features, his eyes sparkle with an adoration for you he couldn’t conceal if he wanted to.

He tries to, anyway. 

“Bite me,” he grumbles with narrowed eyes.

Eddie huffs dramatically from beside you. The sound gets your attention — makes you turn your head to look at him again — which is all he really wanted to do, anyway.

“Stop flirting!” the boy grumbles, wide-eyed and chewing through his mouthful. “I’m sitting right here!”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie Munson was never supposed to believe in love at first sight. That stuff was for children, chick flicks, and over-played ballads — not metalheads who’ve never been loved before and have had to improvise all their awkward tenderness accordingly.

But then he met you. And he didn’t love you then, but he knew something was different. Off. Metamorphosing, even. 

It was different from love — whatever strange, foreign thing he was feeling way back when. It didn’t hurt nearly as much, and it didn’t feel like every single one of his atoms had been set ablaze. It was softer, warmer, a gentle familiarity in a stranger who just wanted to get high.

You sat down in front of him on that rotted park bench in the middle of the woods, and it felt like he was staring the rest of his life in the face. There was no falling head over heels like all the songs on the radio said there’d be, but rather an “Oh, hi, it’s you. I hope it’s always gonna be you.”

He feels that foreign, fluffy feeling in his chest even now as he stands on the shore in a pair of trunks you bought because you knew he’d forget his. He watches you wade into the cerulean sea with a lily sort of hesitance. You’re so much smaller than the wide-open, but he loves you so much you seem swallow it all whole anyway. 

You’re a pretty little thing in a canary yellow bikini, sunshine incarnate. Your thighs are round and full. The pudge of your stomach is soft and tender. The scarred marks on your back and shoulders are like so many little kisses, each of which he longs to give you in return.

You possess an intimidating sort of beauty, one that Eddie found easier to admire from afar. You were entirely too captivating — warm and gentle like a summer rain dying to be danced in.

“Stop being such a baby!” Robin calls from further in the water. Her sandy-colored hair is a darker shade from the salty sea and pushed back over her forehead and ears. 

Her chapped lips curl into a pink smile as she looks up at you. Not even she could hide her admiration for your fantastical, demoniacal beauty.

“The water’s not even that bad!” the girl continues in half-hearted taunts. “Just run in!”

“It’s cold!” you insist, shivering when a brutal breeze brushes by. You tense and tighten the grip you have on yourself. Your arms are crossed over your chest in a feeble shield that does little to protect you from the water nipping at your ankles.

Robin cackles at your wincing.

Eddie might’ve defended you if he wasn’t so lost in the eternal blue of you, more infinite than the water you stand in or the sky you idle beneath. 

You look so soft in the golden sunlight, so diabolically angelic. Lithe, unholy, yet pure all the same. Built for sin but looking just like Heaven.

Eddie Munson wasn’t supposed to fall in love. He wasn’t even looking for it until it tripped him, ate him up, and spat him out. The universe does whatever the universe wants sometimes, he figures, and if you can’t laugh at their stupid jokes, then that’s on you.

“Holy shit…” Eddie mumbles as the realization pierces him like a dull needle between his ribcage. That searing, subtle feeling of being in love. 

It’s frightening more than it is anything, really — the understanding that you’re diving into something that could ruin you, something you’re going to let ruin you. There’s nothing but a thin line between love and horror.

“Huh?” Steve hums with a cartoonishly scrunched nose and furrow to his brow.

He was the only one close enough to hear him. Everyone else was separate but still near, using every inch of their reserved space. 

Nancy’s reading a book in one of the lounge chairs with El and Max sunbathing on towels close by. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are roughhousing in the water — no doubt irking Steve and his lifeguard-esque spidey senses. Robin, meanwhile, was still coaxing you inside.

Eddie’s head snaps in Steve’s direction. He squints through the wisps of gray smoke rising from the grill. “Huh?” he repeats like the idiot he is.

“You said something.” The brunette boy responds. Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“No, I wasn’t,” Eddie sasses back despite having been caught red-handed. He shrugs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “I was just… I was just talking to myself.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause that’s not weird or anything.”

Eddie bites back a too-harsh jeer. He watches Steve flip a steaming burger on the tiny grill in front of him with a floundering sort of finesse. He scoffs out a laugh. “Making fun of me isn’t gonna compensate for you having absolutely no idea what you’re doing over there, you know?”

“How hard can it be?” Steve wonders, bouncing his shoulders and gesturing with the spatula in his hand. “They’re burgers. Just flip ‘em before the burn, and they’re golden— well, not golden, but… you get it.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the boy’s blind optimism. Steve’s got all the trappings of a rich kid who never had a fend for yourself night where dinner was just chocolate milk, dry cereal, and pizza rolls. “I thought growing up in the suburbs, you would’ve perfected the art of grilling by now.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly have anyone around that often to teach me, so…”

Steve isn’t exactly playing the woe is me card. He’s just stating a fact that most everyone in Hawkins seems to know by now. It blows the wind out of Eddie’s sails, anyway. 

It’s hard to understand sometimes that Steve’s got his own thing going on — his own secrets with his own trauma he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. Eddie spent his whole life thinking that if he was richer, or if his house was bigger, or if the kids at school liked him more, he might’ve been happier growing up. 

Steve Harrington is living proof that that’s not always true.

Eddie walks a few steps closer to the grill. The smell of smoke and cooked meat pervade him instantaneously. He snatches the spatula from Steve’s hand, who’s too off guard to dodge him. 

His frizzy curls bunch at his shoulders when he tilts his head to the side, flashing the brunette boy a sickly sweet smile. “Let the trailer trash show ya how it’s done, Stevie.”

“First of all, don’t call me that,” he retorts with a flat face, golden biceps crossed tight over the chest of his fitted tee. “And second of all, what the hell do you know about cooking?”

“When you grow up in a trailer park, you know how to make at least two things by the time you’re seven-years-old — pizza rolls in the oven and burgers on the grill.”

Steve’s honey eyes narrow. “I don’t trust you not to poison us, Munson.”

“What? You think I’m gonna poison a bunch of kids and my girlfriend? That’s, like, the lowest of the low,” Eddie defends with bubbly laughter sputtering from his mouth. He flips a smashed burger and lets it sizzle over the low flame before pointing the spatula in Steve’s direction. A mischievous glint sparkles in his eye. “But you, Harrington? You should definitely be worried.”

“…Girlfriend, huh?” 

Eddie, visibly surprised by the lack of a comeback, glances over his shoulder at the boy. His fleetingly puzzled gaze gives way to a teasing pink grin. “Yeah… Jealous?” 

It was a joke, but Steve starts to stutter over himself like he’s guilty of something. “What? No,” he argues between forced laughter. “Why would you— Why would you even say that?”

“‘Cause I actually had the balls to ask out the girl I like, and you’ve been ogling at Nancy for an hour trying to figure out how to talk to her without coming off like a total creep.”

“That’s not… I wasn’t doing that.”

Eddie shrugs. “Okay.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I said okay!”

“Jeez…” Steve concedes with a dramatic huff. “I have no idea what Peach sees in you, ya know?”

“Me neither, honestly,” Eddie confesses with a distant smile, grinning at the grill like he can see you in the wisps of thick smoke. “I always thought it was my strong arms and sparkling personality.” 

“See, that’s what I’m talking about! You can’t be serious about anything!”

“I can be serious about some things.”

“Yeah?” Steve muses with raised brows and a smile that says otherwise. “Like what?”

There’s a million stupid jokes Eddie could make just to piss him off all the more. He swallows them all down in place of something more real. “I don’t know… Peach is pretty cool, I guess… Don’t really wanna fuck that up…”

Steve nods, proud of the answer he wasn’t expecting. “Good. Don’t.”

“And what would you do if I did, tough guy?” Eddie jokes, narrowing his eyes at the boy beside him. “Beat me up?”

He answers without missing a beat. “Yeah.”

“You don’t exactly have the best track record for that. I’m pretty sure you’re on a world-record losing streak, actually.”

“I don’t have to win,” Steve assures with a strange sort of sternness to his words. 

Eddie is visibly shocked by the sudden seriousness, wide-eyed and confused. 

The brunette boy sighs before explaining. “That time I got into that stupid fight with Hargrove, it wasn’t about trying to beat him, you know? I was trying to— I don’t know— I was trying to… keep him from hurting the people I cared about, I guess.”

“Peach?” Eddie presses with furrowed brows.

Steve shoots him a dumbfounded look, confused by the confusion. “She didn’t tell you about that?”

“...No?”

“Then, uh… Never mind.”

Steve closes in on himself all over again — an impenetrable brick wall with abs and a chiseled jawline. Eddie feels so suddenly left out, like there was some secret everyone was in on but him. He abandons the grill entirely. 

“Nope. No way. You have to tell me now.”

“I don’t have to tell you shit, Munson,” Steve scoffs, side-stepping the wild-haired boy and taking his place in front of the grill. The burgers are cooked through now, perfectly seared and smoky. He plates them all like he wasn’t on track to burning them. Eddie lets him do it.

“I swear to god, I will give you food poisoning on purpose, Harrington—”

“It’s not my story to tell, alright?” Steve interjects the half-hearted threat.

“Well, I mean, it sorta is because you were just about to tell it, so…”

The brunette grumbles something under his breath like a rolling storm cloud.

You and Robin watch the encounter from afar, both of you someways from shore. Now submerged to your shoulders in the sapphire water, you’re not nearly as cold as when you first stepped in. It feels as soft as silk now, sparkling around you like diamonds every time you kick your feet to keep yourself afloat.

A smile quirks at your mouth at the sight of the bantering boys — one you used to love and one you think you’ll love forever.

They’re complete and utter opposites of each other. One golden, one pale. One broad, one lean. One with trimmed honey locks that shine golden in the sun, and one with long curls so dark they seem to reject all light entirely. 

They both wear deadpanned looks of utter annoyance on their features, having no idea how close they’re standing to each other.

“The sexual tension is ripe between those two,” you confess to Robin, though it’s mostly for yourself.

“Think they’re gonna kiss?” the brunette girl jokes as she blinks salt water from her eyes.

“I don’t know… They might…” you observe quietly, squinting in the distance in a feeble attempt to read their lips. The conversation seems heated — well, as heated as it gets between two boys who think they’re better off as enemies. 

You long to understand what they’re saying and mourn the fact that you don’t.

“Bet I can get them to kiss by the end of the night, though,” you answer more finally and with a glint to your eye — a result of your looming mischief rather than the glittering sun above you.

“Please, don’t say it…” Robin grimaces.

“Truth or dare,” you singsong with a beaming grin.

The girl makes a pained sound at your words. She bubbles her freckled cheeks and squeezes her eyes shut tight. She ducks herself beneath the water in attempts to hide there, knowing there are some things you just can’t run from.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You hold onto your love for Eddie like so many flowers in your hand. 

It’s a collection of wild things — honeyed daffodils, fluffy white daisies, and pretty pastel forget-me-nots. Their vivid green stems feel like stripes of hardened silk in your palm. 

Maybe you’ll shape them into a crown later, place them on top of your lover’s wild curls the next time you see him. You hope that isn’t too long now.

Max was the one that wanted to go on a hike. Upon the other boys’ insistence of tagging along, she spat like venom in return — “No boys allowed.” And, quite frankly, none of you were in any position to deny Maxine Mayfield of anything.

Robin hadn’t even wanted to go until that moment. She complained she was too tired after a day in the water to spend an evening in the woods. The thought of making fun of Steve seemingly cured her. 

“Yeah,” she lilted with a smile, voice raspy from hours of nonstop laughter. She slid a cap over her drying locks, leaving it backwards and lazy on her head. She bounced her brows and walked backwards behind the group of you. “Go on your own hike, Stevie.”

“We will!” Steve argued in return, like a child not easily left behind.

You can’t be sure of what they’re up to now. Nothing, maybe, or perhaps everything. You just hope Eddie’s missing you as much as you’re missing him — innocently, gently, childishly. 

Maybe he’s seeing your face in the crystalline waves of the sea like you’re seeing his face in the satin petals of the flowers in your hand.

“Having fun?” you ask Max over the subtle crunch, crunch, crunch of grass and leaves and twigs beneath your feet. 

The redhead’s eyes widen at the suddenness of your presence — or rather, how slow she’d been to register it. Noticing her languishing stride, she puts more pep in her step. 

“Tons,” she huffs.

You become a silent observer of Max Mayfield for a moment. You blink at the girl beside you —  with pretty red plaits down her back and pale shoulders peeking from her tank top — and try to make sense of her. It’s an impossible task.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” you confess with a quiet laugh.

“I’m not,” she affirms with her own scoffed-out chuckle. She tucks a rouge wisp of amber hair behind her ear and averts her gaze to her beat-up sneakers. “It’s… actually been kinda fun so far.”

With a blooming feeling of relief and slight accomplishment, you nod in response. “Good.”

“I just wish the boys weren’t here, though,” she admits with a distant girlishness, kicking a rock with the tip of her shoe. It clunk, clunk, clunks down the hill. She screws her freckled face. “They’re making it all… weird.”

“Weird how?” you press gently. 

You don’t want to push her so hard she closes up again, but you don’t want to stay so quiet she thinks you don’t care. It’s tricky work, getting close to Max Mayfield — like digging through a brick wall with a plastic spoon.

“Weird as in… I don’t know— they’re making it something it’s not supposed to be, you know? Like, Dustin is cool, but that’s because his girlfriend just dumped him and everything,” the girl rambles with a shrug. She lifts her arm to duck beneath a low-hanging branch, scraping her calloused palm against the wood as she goes. 

You’ll hear a low thud moments later when Robin smacks her forehead against it. She’d been too busy explaining how to tell the difference between poisonous and nonpoisonous mushrooms to Nancy and El — the former only half as enthused as the latter.

“El and Mike are always sneaking off to suck face, and Steve and Eddie keep ogling at you like they’ve never seen a girl before, and Lucas won’t stop asking me if something’s wrong, and—”

“He’s just trying to check up on you,” you interject gently, letting the wound-up girl take a much-needed breath.

“Yeah, well, it’s annoying,” she grumbles like a thundering rain cloud. “I’m trying to forget my problems, not talk about them.”

And, honestly, you think she might be onto something. Teenage girls are basically tiny pessimistic philosophers — your problems don’t exist if you don’t look at them, she tells you in essence. The logic is cynically sound to an unhealthy degree. It’s a poison apple you’ve plucked from the tree and eaten whole once.

“You gotta talk about them eventually, Max,” you tell her. Not because you have, but rather because you haven’t, and you’ve seen where that’s gotten you.

Max stops in her tracks. She turns ninety degrees to glare at you — arms crossed over her chest, bushy brows quirked like the right side of her lips. She looks bitterly amused at your words. 

You cower beneath her icy blue stare. You know you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Oh, yeah? Like you’re talking about them, too?” she sasses with all her practiced teenaged apathy.

You falter. “Yeah, well… Don’t do what I do, alright? Do what I say.”

Max scoffs. It sounds almost like genuine laughter in its curtness, as though it were truly sincere. She shakes her head with a cynical smile. “Face it— we’re both hopeless…”

Her words leave you stunned, as though she’d pierced you with the poison tip of them. There’s an edge to them that cuts you and leaves you bleeding as she walks on without you. The wind brushes your exposed skin, a reminder that the world is still going even though it feels like it’s frozen still. 

Robin and El walk by you a moment later. The former rubs her aching forehead over the brim of the cap on her head. The latter is elbow-deep in a drawstring bag looking for a bandaid to give her. 

Nancy, either poetically or cruelly, is the one who notices the splintered ache you are.

She smiles with her pretty pink lips and blinks at you with her stone-blue eyes. She’s as pretty as she ever was — with her bare, sun-kissed face and oversized cardigan pushed up to her elbows. It’s hard to admonish someone who looks as sweet as she does. 

Her attention alone is enough to heal you, like a dog licking a weeping wound. You hate her as much as you worship her. The loathing feels religious.

“Who are those for?” she questions innocently, motioning to the flowers in the limp hand hanging at your side.

“Oh, uh, they’re— they’re for Eddie,” you sputter in a mumble, suddenly aflame with embarrassment. You turn your red-hot cheeks away from her and look at everything but the girl in front of you. “It’s… It’s stupid…”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s sweet,” she disagrees, grinning so sincerely it scrunches the sloped bridge of her nose.

“I don’t know, I just… I felt a little bad about leaving him behind, so…”

“He did look a little like a sad puppy when we left,” Nancy confesses in a soft giggle.

You roll your eyes despite the lovesick smile on your face. “He always looks like that when he doesn’t get his way.”

“He really likes you. I can tell.”

Your heart lurches at her words. 

“What the hell do you know about him?” is first fleeting thought that scorches your mind. “He isn’t yours. You don’t get to know him.” 

The misplaced anger is raging crimson, vivid enough to taste. Or perhaps that’s just the metallic tang of your blood as you bite your tongue.

Your rage is engraved into your bones at this point. 

It isn’t fair, not to either of you, so you swallow it down.

“You think so?” you wonder instead.

“Oh. Totally,” she scoffs like she’s never been surer of anything in her life. 

Her sneakers scuff against the rough terrain of Lake Lemon as she starts walking again, towards the sound of trickling water. You follow behind her on instinct and watch her angled profile flit to the blue sky above you. Gray clouds start to gather in the distance, concealed by the green of towering trees. 

“The way he looks at you… It’s really sweet.”

“Bet it makes you miss Jonathan, huh?”

“I always miss him,” she answers without missing a beat, though she seems so suddenly forlorn. “Even though I know I’m not really supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” you press with pinched brows.

She tilts her head and looks at you beneath her lashes. “We, um… We broke up, actually.”

“Oh. Shit,” you stutter, surprising even yourself because you hadn’t meant to say the words out loud. It makes you that much more embarrassed at yourself. “I— I’m sorry. I didn’t— shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” Nancy assures kindly, giggling and bringing you at ease again. She smiles so softly, like she isn’t hurt by it all — by what you’ve said or what she left behind in Jonathan. 

You squint at her with a question on your tongue. How can you seem so happy after having lost a piece of yourself? you want so desperately to ask. How has that not ruined you entirely?

She sighs, still with a reminiscent smile. “I haven’t really… you know, talked about it, so…”

“Are you…” you start, but trail off again. Your head whips from her to the rocky trail you descend down, trying to keep focused without tripping over yourself in front of her. God knows you’ve done that enough for a lifetime. “Are you okay?”

Nancy thinks on your words more than you expected her to. “Uh, yeah. I think so. I mean— I guess that’s what this trip is about, you know? Trying to be okay again.”

You nod in response. You figure that’s why you ultimately asked Max to tag along in the first place, and why her friends had decided to join — those heartbroken and otherwise. 

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Nancy follows quickly with wet eyes and pinched-together brows. She’s waiting for you to condemn her, though you’re not entirely sure why.

“For… what?”

“You know, not telling you I was coming and… everything.” 

You wonder if she truly does mean everything or if it’s just a figure of speech. Nancy has a world of things to say sorry to you for — she knows this, most barbarically so.

“Steve told me it was normally a him, you, and Robin thing. He said you wouldn’t be upset about it or anything, but I feel like… I don’t know… like I’ve intruded or something?”

“No,” you assure almost instantly because you know what non-belonging feels like. You don’t want it to eat away at her like it did you. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” the girl presses with a twinkle in her eye.

“Totally.”

She exhales a sharp chuckle through her nose. It’s almost a sigh of relief — like your words have removed a hulking weight from her bony chest. “I was so scared things were gonna be…”

“Weird?” you finish for her when she trails off.

Her sheepish smile matches your own. She nods. “Yeah.”

“That was forever ago,” you shrug, repeating the words you’ve been telling yourself for ages now. It made everything much easier to stomach. You found it much safer not to feel any of it at all — to keep the hurt from touching you entirely.

Nancy nods. Her words leave her mouth, soft like a song and kissed by sorrow. “I know, but… Things were…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t have to. 

You were there for all of it. Most of the bloodshed was yours in the end.

“Yeah,” you huff so deeply it deflates your tightening chest.

“It was all just bullshit, you know?” Nancy says, shaking her head like she’s detested by the memory. “Steve shouldn’t have done what he did, but… It wasn’t like I was raring to stop him.”

“It wasn’t your job. You didn’t know me— you never had to… defend me or whatever.”

“I know, but… I think maybe I should have.”

The two of you stop in place and share a look of distant longing. Not the kind you often give Eddie — not the kind full of puppy love — but rather one of acute understanding. 

She didn’t know you, and you didn’t know her. You thought it was better off that way. Her presence was so often forced against your will. Like Pavlov’s Dog, you knew she only ever came with your inevitable heartache. Steve drifted to her like she had her own gravitational pull. He only came back to you when she was gone.

Jaded by heartache, you learned to hate her. The wrath ate away at you accordingly. And here she was — all your anger in the flesh — extending an olive branch and trying to make you whole again.

“Whoa…” you hear Robin croon lowly in the distance. 

Your attention leaves the piercing moment and darts over to her. She stands between El and Max in front of a leaning willow. She parts the weeping leaves with the palm of her hand and marvels at something further in the juniper you can’t see. 

You give Nancy a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes — too weighed down by the heavy moment — but it isn’t any less sincere. You walk away from her and towards the three others. It takes her a moment or more to follow you.

Past the swaying willow is a shrouded cove. The clear water is kissed by streams of sunlight poking through the fluttering leaves. It possesses a hearty smell of rain and wet grass, the very breath of spring. 

It’s a corner of the world that feels so pure, so untouched by the rest of the world. You can hear words hidden in the rippling water — “Swim with me,” it calls to you. “Let me cleanse you. Let me save you.” 

“Sweet…” Max hums to herself, apathetic as ever, though utterly unable to tear her eyes from the sight before her.

El nods, similarly mesmerized. “Yeah. Sweet.”

Robin turns to you, smirking all cool in her backwards cap and baggy jeans and thumped forehead. She bounces her brows and beams. “Bet the boys haven’t found anything this cool.”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Hey, look!” Dustin shouts to the others, eyes squinted with the intensity of his grin. He holds up a shining red rock, made smooth from the water rolling over his feet. “I’m pretty sure it’s a gemstone! Like, a ruby or something!”

He’s met with several unenthused gazes from the rest of the boys on shore. 

Mike squints at him from where he sits next to Lucas in the sand, both of them equally mopey without their girls to bring them back to life. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s just a rock,” the raven-haired boy monotones.

Dustin’s smile washes away like the ebbing tide at his ankles. He looks back at the weighty thing in his hand and realizes that he doesn’t actually know the difference. “Oh…”

“What do you think the girls are doing right now?” Lucas wonders aloud. He can’t go more than five minutes without bringing them up, which Dustin has bitterly observed a number of times. 

He’s more worried about Max than anything, about her eagerness to get away from the boys — from him. He doesn’t know what he could’ve done so wrong to make her pull away like she has. His chest aches with the uncertainty.

“Talking about us, probably,” Mike answers.

“That’s a little sexist, Mike,” Dustin scolds as he walks back on shore, kicking up white sand behind him as he goes.

“What do you think they’re doing then?”

“Talking about you,” the curly-haired boy retorts with narrowed eyes. “‘Cause you’re a dick.”

Mike squints an eye as he looks up at him, shielding his vision from the white sun. He flips the boy off with a pale, bony finger.

Eddie watches from a distance. He stands beside Steve in front of the bubbling white waves, though it’s not really by choice. He’d much rather be standing next to you. He searches for you in the pearly waves and weeps because nothing compares to the real thing.  

“Well, why don’t we just find out?” he offers with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“Uh, because they said no boys allowed,” Steve answers like it’s obvious.

Eddie meets the boy’s furrowed brows with jettisoned ones hidden behind curly bangs. “…Okay?”

“And, I don’t know— I kinda don’t wanna get my face ripped off.”

“And what would poor Steve Harrington do without his pretty little face?” the wild-haired boy singsongs in response, face scrunched in feigned sympathy.

Steve squints. “You know what? Please, leave. I encourage it, actually.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his head to his shoulder. He blinks at the boy beside him with glittering chocolate eyes that match the frizzy curls billowing in the breeze. “But then who would I annoy?”

“I don’t know. Your girlfriend, maybe,” Steve responds in a monotone, grunting softly as he bends down to pick up a handful of rocks from shore. He flicks his wrist to skip them across the water. It becomes quickly apparent that he’s never done it before. Each pebble plops hopelessly into the salty sea. “Anyone but me, preferably.”

“But you can’t break up with me, so… that’s an obvious bonus.”

“Jesus Christ…” Steve mumbles within an annoyed exhale. “You are the most insufferable person on the planet, you know that, right?”

“Tell me what happened with Billy, and I’ll leave,” Eddie challenges with narrowed eyes.

It’s too good a proposition not to give any thought to. Steve thinks about it for a beat, then shakes his head and turns away. “Yeah, no,” he concludes, skipping another rock that sinks to the bottom almost immediately.

“Why?”

“’Cause you annoying the shit outta me now is nothing compared to what Peach’ll do if she finds out I told you.”

“And what’s that?”

Steve shrugs. “…Be mad at me?”

Eddie scoffs and crosses his pale arms over his chest. “And that would just be… inconceivable, right?”

“I spent enough time pissing her off.”

“What’d you even do, anyway? Or is that another secret everyone seems to know but me?”

Steve shoots him another bitter side-eye. He tosses out another pebble. It bounces on the water once and then disappears beneath the surface. “I think these are questions for your girlfriend, Munson.”

“No, these are questions for bros, Harrington,” Eddie jokes, shoving the boy on his shoulder. His touch is more aggressive than he realizes and it makes the disgruntled brunette stumble slightly to the side. “Isn’t this the sort of things bros talk about?”

“Oh, my god…” Steve mutters to himself, shaking his head and wondering how he got here. What was supposed to be a trip with you and Robin has turned into him babysitting with Eddie fucking Munson.

“Am I not bro enough for you, Harrington?”

“That word has lost all meaning now—”

“C’mon, just tell me, man,” Eddie pleads with a newfound seriousness. “Every time I almost get something outta her, she just— she clams up, you know? I love her and everything, but fuck— it feels like she only lets me know her so much. It’s agony sometimes, dude.”

Steve doesn’t mean to, but he melts.

Maybe it’s the foreign emotion he’s getting from the local freak, or maybe it’s the confession that’s unknowingly slipped from his lips. 

He sighs. Then shrugs. “It was a long time ago. And I was a douchebag.”

Eddie snorts. “Figures.”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” Steve bites. 

Eddie curls his lips around his teeth, puts his mouth in a tight line, and stays silent. 

The brunette boy continues. “I liked her and everything, but I also liked Nancy, you know? I really liked Nancy. I mean, Peach was a lotta fun, but Nance— she was the kinda girl you wanted to settle down with.”

Eddie feels his chest tighten, and the confession’s only just started. 

You were fun. The most fun he’s had in his life. He’d kill to settle down with you, to have an entire future of fun. There was never any but with you — I love you, but it’d be a bad look to settle down with the town slut. Eddie wants all of you, the good and what everyone else has collectively decided is “bad.” 

He loves the sound of your laughter as much as he loves the sound of your moans. 

He wants a lifetime full of both.

“—So every time Nancy broke up with me, I’d go back to Peach. And I wouldn’t tell her about… about any of it. You know, that I still wanted to be with Nancy and everything. And that’s… I think that’s the worst part about it. ‘Cause she thought there was a chance we would get together, you know? And I wanted her to think that, ‘cause I wanted her to always be there when I was— when I needed her…”

Steve squints off into the blue — where the darker-colored water meets a lighter-colored sky. The white sun casts harsh shadows on his already chiseled features. His face scrunches into something sharper, whetted edges of held-back emotion.

“A part of me knew the only reason Peach stuck around was because she thought I’d finally come to my senses and ask her out, you know? But I was… so far gone for Nancy back then it’s not even funny,” the boy confesses. He exhales a curt, cynical chuckle from his nose and shakes his head at himself. 

“I knew I was gonna keep chasing after Nance, but I couldn’t let Peach know that because I didn’t wanna be... I don’t know… alone, I guess? I needed someone to go to when my heart got broken., you know? But when I went back to Nancy— over and over and over again— it’s like… where’d Peach go? Who did— Who did she have to turn to, you know?”

Silence rolls in like the whispering breeze. It settles heavy like the gray rain clouds on the horizon.

Steve sighs like a strangling hand has finally let go of his throat. Like he can finally breathe again after saying all that out loud for the first time. Beside Eddie, the boy stands golden, grieving, and utterly changed. Steve towers over his old self in the memories he wishes he could get rid of and mourns the people he can’t un-hurt.

And it fucking sucks. 

What he did to you sucks. The person he used to be sucks. And it sucks that he’s changed too much to hate now. Where is Eddie supposed to put all the anger simmering in his chest and scratching at the back of his throat?

“And, yeah,” Steve suddenly concludes, flicking his wrist to toss another rock out to sea that’ll never see the light of day again. “That went on for a while until she got with Hargrove, which was… a total fucking train wreck.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to respond, so he just laughs — a short, sharp, and scoffing breath. 

“Wow,” he muses with his brows raised and hidden beneath his bangs. He shakes his head in complete and utter bemusement as he looks over at Steve, eyelids as heavy as the forced smile on his face. “You guys are fucking assholes, you know that?”

Steve exhales sharply from his nose in place of a laugh. He shakes his head in agreement anyway. “Believe it or not— people can change, Munson.”

The wild-haired boy squints. “Really?”

“I did. Peach did,” he answers with a shrug, then averts his gaze entirely to mumble, “You did, too, I guess…”

The half-heartedly grumbled phrase feels almost like a compliment — more so when it’s spilling from the mouth of someone he used to hate but has grown to sort of tolerate on handpicked occasions. 

It’s great beauty, to grow and shift and become the person you were also meant to be. And what praise it is to be seen in your becoming.

From a brief distance, they hear a soft and relieved “Fucking finally,” spill from Dustin’s mouth.

Eddie turns and finds you coming down from the trail. Well, you and the rest of the girls you ditched him for, but all he can really see is you. 

He’d missed you in a way he knows he shouldn’t have. Not just because you were only gone for one measly hour, but because that one measly hour ate away at him as though it were eons. 

He knows he shouldn’t miss you so hard, but sometimes the absence feels strangely fulfilling. It’s a reminder that you’re real and not some dream he made up in his head. A reminder that he’ll meet you again because you’ll always come back to him.

“Have fun?” you ask when he’s close enough to hear you. You’ve got one eye squinted to shield from the sun and also to conceal the beam threatening to take over your features.

“Oh. Tons,” Eddie scoffs in a deadpan. “Didn’t even miss you.”

“No?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Well, I didn’t miss you either,” you confess in a similar lilt and with a similar grin that drips with honeyed adoration. “’S why I spent the whole time picking these flowers for you.”

You shrug and hold out your left hand, where a bushel of tiny flowers rests softly against the edge of your palm. It’s a mixture of vivid colors — of greens, blues, purples, and yellows. They’re wild and beautiful and drenched in sun. A whole lot like the love he has for you.

The dull ache of his broken heart sears with warmth when you put it back together again.

Eddie’s toes dig into the sand as he fills the short distance between you. He curls his fingers around your elbows, takes you in his arms, and feels whole again. With a rosy smile and sparkling chocolate eyes, he groans, “Oh, god, I hate you so much…”

Your cheeks hurt with how large your grin has grown, with how hard you try to hide it. It’s not nearly as painful as the adoration burning wildfires behind your ribcage. “I hate you more, Eddie Spaghetti.”

There’s no need to admit you’re only joking.

The words are so obviously playful. 

And both of you know what they really mean, anyway.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

The heavenly cadence of spring rain sings a wild song on the old tin roof.

It began first as a few gentle taps, a sparse sprinkle that tricks your brain into thinking it’s not really there at all. Then the greying clouds gave way to darker, more ponderous ones. The soft drizzle became a roaring rain that fell all together, all at once.

A foggy grey covers the cabin and lulls its inhabitants to sleep. Swim-tired, sunkissed, and energy-spent — you all return to a sweeter sort of peace. The sudden exhaustion feels like rose petals. It’s gentle, pure, and liquid smooth. 

Robin clocks out first, and in record time. She stomps in from outside, terribly sunburnt and complaining relentlessly — before and after a cold shower. She shoves a burger in her face and passes out on the couch soon after.

Steve makes fun of her for it, but he goes right after her. He lays opposite her on the small couch, both of them fighting for room, even in their sleep.

Nancy went a lot more quietly, and only after the millionth time you assured her that she was more than welcome to take the bed. “It’s not like Robin has any plans of sleeping upstairs right now,” you joked, nodding your head over to the brunette girl who had her chin tilted backward and her mouth wide open.

You can’t be entirely sure what the kids are up to now, but they’ve all returned to the bunk room. It’s quiet, but not suspiciously so. You figure they’re all either sleeping or fighting it, so you decide to give them privacy while you sit alone in the kitchen — waiting for Eddie’s shower to end and for Hopper to get off the phone with you.

“Having fun?” the man wonders politely.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum in response, cheek propped lazily against your fist as you lean over the granite countertop. You’re too heavy with fatigue to do anything else. Your legs are sore and your skin is sun-drenched. Slumber all but sings your name like a siren out at sea.

“What about El? She doing okay?”

“Yep.”

“You’re watching her and Mike, right? You’re not letting them go off alone?”

“Yes, Hopper,” you singsong in an impatient-sounding sigh.

The man huffs out a laugh that crackles from the other line. “You sound like you don’t wanna talk to me, teacup.”

“I’m sorry. ‘M just tired. Running after kids all day is exhausting,” you confess in a series of barely intelligible mumbles.

“Exactly. That’s why you wear protection—”

“Hopper!”

“I’m just saying!” Jim defends between a bout of gruff laughter. “I don’t want you  coming back from this trip and having a mini-Munson nine months later, alright? That’s all I’m saying.”

You have a hard time placing his intention — if he’s truly being protective or if he’s just making fun of you. He’s more than aware of Eddie’s secret, after all, so you coming home with a mini-Munson is virtually impossible. But, then again, no-parents-empty-cabin surely has its own lewd history.

You figure it’s a healthy mixture of both, and decide to take the piss out of him, too.

“Oh, trust me, lurch. There’s gonna be a million mini-Munsons when I get back. What do you think I’ve been doing all this time, huh?” you argue with squinted eyes and a sudden fire behind your sunkissed lassitude. “Please ignore the sounds of moaning and squeaking, by the way.”

A beat of utter silence passes. 

The other line is perfectly mute. You can’t even hear his breathing.

“…That’s not funny,” Hopper grouses in a monotone.

“I’m not laughing,” you retort, giggling anyway. You couldn’t hide them if you tried. Fuck, you miss annoying this man in person. 

You collect yourself with a sigh and continue. “Believe it or not, I’m perfectly abstinent, okay? I’m not some kinda fiend that… You know what— I don’t want to talk about this with you, actually.”

Hopper exhales a sigh of relief when you cut yourself off. “Good. I checked out of this conversation about a minute ago.”

“I’m good. El’s good. Everyone’s currently sleeping, so… Thanks for checking in, lurch.”

“Remind me to ask for Harrington next time I call.”

“Will do.”

You hang up the phone with a smile and a plan to trek upstairs and tell Eddie all about it. You’ll sit on the bathroom counter and laugh about it with him while he finishes up his shower. You’ll leave out the million Munsons part, of course, because you don’t want him to think you’re a total weirdo.

Eddie finds you first.

“Mini Munsons, huh?” you hear the boy chuckle behind you.

Your heart lurches against your ribcage at his sudden arrival. You spin around to face him, features wide and gaping as you figure out how to worm your way out of this one. “I was— I was just kidding. Hopper was being annoying, you know? So I was… I was just fucking around with him…”

Eddie meets your wild-eyed shock with a much cooler, pink smile. It’s lopsided and wide and beautiful. Leaning against the wall, he bounces his shoulder and juts out his lip. “Well, I know that’s your favorite pastime, so… I guess I won’t hold it against you.”

You know he’s joking, but you exhale the breath you were holding in relief anyway. “Thank you…”

He walks the short distance to meet you. His bare feet pad against the kitchen tile until he’s close enough to wrap you in his arms. He carries the smell of your body wash with him — a warm, floral, and sweet scent. His hair is damp and pulled back out of his face, dripping onto the neck of his t-shirt.

His palms are wide and lotion-soft as they smooth up your forearms. “Uh… Everyone’s asleep now, I think, so… You wanna go talk?”

He looks at you so sweet, you’re almost certain it’s code for something. Not sex, maybe, but something almost as gratifying. It’s Eddie — he kisses you stupid like he was made to do it. You’re more than happy to make out like teenagers until the rest of the cabin starts to stir again.

“Sure, I do,” you answer with a shrug, trying to keep an air of nonchalance about you even though you’re beaming up at him like schoolgirl — some innocent being that’s never been hurt before.

You let him lead you up the spiral staircase with that same giddy grin. You barely let him shut the door behind you before you’re pushing him against it. 

You hear him gasp quietly when your arms wrap suddenly around his neck. He’s tense when your body presses against his, like hugging a mountain’s edge. It takes him a moment or more to respond when you start kissing the breath from his lungs.

He finally relaxes with a soft exhale that fans against your cupid’s bow. His idling hands settle over your hips, fingers threatening to crawl beneath your cropped shirt when it rises to reveal a sliver of your skin. You’d kill for him to touch you further, but his touch stays perfectly still. You’re just glad he’s holding you at all.

He tastes like nicotine, soda, and summertime — clean, boyish, and nostalgic. Your tongue swipes gently over his plush bottom lip for more. You expect him to open up further for you, to let you explore the mouth you already know like the back of your hand. You’re heartbroken when he pulls away from you entirely, missing him the second he’s gone.

Eddie’s grieving in a similar way. It’s hard for him to part from you when you kiss him like no person on earth has ever been kissed.

He breathes out a soft laugh as he peers down at you. He grins crookedly with his freshly swollen lips. “Not that I’m not enjoying this or anything, sweetheart, but when I said talk, I really did mean talk…”

Your blood runs red-hot. “Oh…” you sigh like an idiot because you can’t think of anything else to say. You feel like a total fool — spent ages denying the slut stereotype just to jump someone’s bones the second you got them alone. Maybe they were right about you.

Eddie sees you second-guessing everything, watches you form a long-winded apology inside your head. He follows up quickly to quell your worry. “No, it’s okay— it’s kinda my bad, actually. I guess I should’ve clarified.”

You muster a trembling smile when you step back from him. You’re cold the second he’s gone. You have to fight back the shiver that crawls up your spine. “Well, you did say talk, so…”

“Yeah, but how often do I say things I actually mean?”

“Sometimes,” you answer sheepishly, gazing at him from beneath your lashes in a sincere response to his half-joke. “I hope…”

I hope you meant it when you said you liked me, is what you’re really trying to say. I hope you meant all the nice things you’ve said about me, ‘cause I don’t think I could handle them never being real.

He seems to hear everything you don’t say. 

His rosy lips tug into a slow smile as he tilts his head to his shoulder. “Well… maybe when it comes to you, sweetheart.”

Your girlish smile returns to you — wide, innocent, unhurt. You like feeling this special. You like Eddie belonging to you in a way he doesn’t to anybody else. It’s a primal sort of possession, a borderline unhealthy one for someone who loves like it’s breathing.

“What did you wanna talk about then?” you wonder, then scrunch your nose with a distant wariness. “It kinda seems serious now.”

“No,” Eddie scoffs, walking away from you and towards the bed. “Not serious.”

The mattress squeaks under his weight when he flops down onto it. You want to scold him for being so rough with an obviously aged thing that doesn’t belong to him. You’re already gravitating towards him with an unrealized smile on your face. 

You sit down beside him, far more gently than he had. You settle on top of the fluffy comforter and curl your legs behind you. Eddie lays on his side, propping his head up with one hand and using the other to trace the faded scars and beauty marks on your thigh. 

His finger trails absentmindedly over your skin in a featherlight touch. Chills erupt over your skin, and he smiles to himself. You’re still learning how to be touched so delicately.

“Spit it out, Eds. The tension’s killing me,” you laugh with words you’ll regret a second later.

“I don’t know… I just— I wanted to ask why you never told me about Steve,” the boy says with a nonchalant shrug, like the words don’t suck all the breath from your lungs. He’s too busy watching his finger dance across your skin to see the shock flood your features. “Like, I knew you guys had— a thing or whatever. But I didn’t know… you know, the rest of it.”

Despite being unable to breathe, you try to muster a laugh. “This sounds like a pretty serious topic, Eds.”

His wide-eyed gaze matches your own. His stare darts upward to meet yours. The chocolate of his irises are full with brooding. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. Actually, he spent his entire showering thinking of ways to bring this up that would be the least painful for the both of you. But in true Eddie Munson fashion, he can’t ever say the right thing.

“No! No, it— it doesn’t have to be. I was just… It was just a question, you know?” he sputters hopelessly. He glances away and mumbles to himself, “A really dumb, stupid question…”

Despite the overwhelming urge to find the deepest, darkest hole and hide there, you can’t tear your eyes away from the boy in front of you. You’re not really looking at him, though, much too deep in your own head about the whole thing. 

You can’t stop thinking about what he must’ve heard — how he felt when he heard it. Did he think of you differently? Even for a fraction of a second, was he embarrassed at the very thought of you?

“Are you saying that… Steve told you about… all of it?” you ask slowly, terrified of the answer.

“Uh, yeah…” Eddie hesitates, equally as apprehensive. “Honestly, I think we were going a little insane with the girls around…”

He exhales sharply through his nose in place of a laugh and flashes a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It ebbs away a moment later.

“Why would he do that?” you wonder with wide, wet eyes. The question is more for yourself than anything. You can’t begin to understand why Steve would’ve opened up about such a thing — to Eddie, of all people. Your Eddie.

“I asked him about Billy—”

“What do you know about Billy?”

“Well, he brought it up, but—”

“So you spent the entire time talking about me?” The laugh that spills from your mouth is bitter, cruel. 

Eddie, who’s never known you to be either, chuckles emotionlessly back. “Well… No. It just— It just came up, I guess.”

You smile despite the emotion swimming in your glassy eyes. It makes the boy cower inside himself, unsure which contrasting reaction to pay the most attention to. “My relationship with Steve and Billy just… came up?”

“Yeah. It’s not a big deal, babe—”

“It’s not a big deal because they weren’t your exes,” you bite like a snarling dog. “If I spent the entire time talking about you, you wouldn’t be too happy about it either, would you?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “I didn’t come up? Not one time?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. The volume of your answer and its blurted sincerity take him by surprise. You wave your hands wildly as you ramble. “I told Nancy that I missed you and that I couldn’t wait to see you and give you a bunch of stupid flowers—”

You motion to the makeshift bouquet sitting on the nightstand. They idle in a clear shot glass Eddie found in one of the cabinets. He couldn’t stand not giving them a home.

“—While you were off with Steve, talking about everyone that’s fucked me over!”

Your rage is as wild as it is brutal. You’re painted red from the slaughter you’ve been forced through. It’s given you claws and teeth accordingly. 

Like a stray dog that bites the gentle hand trying to feed it, you’ve been so obviously mistreated. Eddie knew that before he knew you — ‘cause he’s got eyes, as well as a bleeding heart. Someone didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved, and now the memory turns you cruel.

“It wasn’t like that, okay?” Eddie presses with an urgency you can feel on his hand curling intently around your calf. His fingers tremble with sincerity. His dark eyes swim with it, too. “I just— I wanted to learn more about you because you never tell me anything!”

“Yes, I do!” you scoff.

“Then why do you never talk about Billy?”

“Why do you care so much about Billy?” you cry with a broad, disbelieving smile. “Why do I need to talk about him? He doesn’t even matter— he doesn’t even exist anymore!”

“Because something obviously happened! And if that thing is bothering you, I wanna be able to make it better!”

“That’s what therapists are for, Eddie. Not boyfriends.”

“Yeah, not any that you ever had,” he scoffs to himself before he can stop it. 

You tense beneath his hand. He deflates with a sigh — squeezing his eyes shut and asking himself how the hell he manages to make the bad shit that much worse. 

“Sorry. I’m— I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t bring any of this up to hurt your feelings, alright? I just wanted to— I don’t know— I just wanted to talk about it, okay? That’s all.”

You can tell he’s being sincere. That he really did just want to talk about it, and that he really is worried about you, and that he really does want to make it all better. He wears it all over his face. His features are soft and blurred and utterly genuine.

You haven’t yet softened your sharp, whetted edges. “You said we didn’t have to. That this trip was supposed to be fun.”

He flinches at the way you spit the words at him. They’re coated in vinegar, venom. It sinks into his skin and maims him accordingly. His bushy brows furrow, the corners of his mouth turn downward, and his eyes go glassy — a sad puppy indeed.

“You’re not having fun?” he wonders in a wounded whisper.

His hurt becomes your own. It only makes your anger tower mountains over you. “Not anymore,” you answer lowly and through a tense jaw.

Eddie’s spent a lifetime screwing things up. He’s spent a lifetime apologizing for them, too. This one aches worse than all the others combined. “I’m sorry…” he mutters quietly.

You’ve never seen him this somber. This sad.

The broken look of your lover’s heartache cracks the hardened porcelain you’re made of. You let out the breath you were holding in a trembling, heavy sigh. “No, don’t— Don’t apologize.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t have brought it up…” he confesses with his gaze cast downward.

You bring a hand to the one idling on your leg. You rest your soft palm over his bony knuckles. Your touch is much warmer than the iceberg you were just minutes ago. 

“It’s okay. You were just curious. I shouldn’t have blown up the way I did,” you concede. The softness he’s more familiar with finally returns to you. The corner of your lip quirks into a wavering half-smile as you joke, “But if you want the entire list of guys that have fucked me over, it’s a really— it’s really fucking long one.”

You laugh quietly at your joke. 

But Eddie knows it’s not really a joke, so he stays unsmiling.

His touch is still soft, though. He takes to rubbing your calf again — a slow and measured up and down — a reminder that he’s still in your corner. “Well, you can tell me about it when you’re ready.”

“What if I’m not?” you wonder, hesitant and testing the waters. “Like… What if I don’t want you to know all that stuff?”

Eddie’s gaze flits away from yours as he ponders the question. He purses his lips to the side and nods to himself, visibly deep in thought. “Then I’m good with not knowing,” he answers after a few, long moments.

“Are you?”

Again, he thinks.

“Not really. No,” he responds, still as honest as he’s always been with you. He grins lopsidedly and bounces his shoulder. “But if it means I get to keep you, then… Yeah.”

You exhale a breathy laugh at his words.

Eddie’s wavering smile breaks out in a sheepish beam at the sight of your more genuine grin. 

“Can I have a kiss?” he whispers to you, as innocent and mousy as a child.

Your hand gives his a reassuring squeeze. “You never have to ask, Eds…” you remind him.

You lean down to press your mouth against his. He tilts his chin to meet you halfway. It’s chaste and lingering — a delicate peck that expresses all the swirling emotions neither of you could name if you tried. 

“There isn’t anything about you that I wouldn’t want to know,” Eddie confesses after he’s pulled away from you. The breath of his words fan across your cheek, he’s still so close to you. His deep galaxy eyes dance between both of yours. “You know that, right?”

A smile tugs slow at your mouth. “Now, I do,” you nod in return, even though you’re not sure if you believe him. 

He only says that because he doesn’t know you — the deep, dark you that you try to keep hidden from yourself and the rest of the world. He’d learn everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve done, and he’d hate you. He wouldn’t be able to look at you the same.

You can’t stand the thought of Eddie looking at you the way the rest of Hawkins does — with eyes squinted and twinkling with an admiral sort of disgust. So you’d rather him not know any of it at all.

Silence dances into the room as effortlessly as a spring breeze. The rain’s offbeat cadence taps hard against the sliding glass door across the room. You have the sudden urge to walk outside and stand it. You think it’d be easier to drown in the warm deluge than in your own thoughts.

Eddie’s rosy mouth turns slightly upward. Yours does, too, in anticipation of what he’s about to tell you.

“Wanna fool around?” he wonders, if only to brighten the heavy grey mood.

The sound of your laughter is sunshine — a metaphor he’s been trying to write for years. “You can’t just say that every time we’re alone, Eds!”

“Why not?” he challenges just to tease you.

“Because you know we can’t,” you answer with a soft sort of sternness about you. Your eyes are firm with sincerity, though they sparkle with mischief.

“We’ve been here almost two days, and I haven’t got one whiff of Jason Voorhees, babe.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you mutter, then whisper more quietly. “There’s people downstairs.”

“Well, you can be quiet…” Eddie lilts, grin lopsided and pink as he rises off the mattress to lean closer to you. His breath fans across your chin, coated with nicotine and something sugary. He tilts his wild head to the side and raises his brows in question. “Can’t you?”

“I’m not sure that you can, Eds.”

“Don’t worry about me,” the boy assures, voice low and suddenly serious.

His warm palm travels up your calf, smoothing over your knee and curling around the side of your thigh. His touch is almost as all-consuming as his stare — deep chocolate brown, as infinite as a galaxy. You fall into them accordingly. You couldn’t deny him if you wanted to.

You try, anyway.

“Eddie…” you start, a warning that trails off when he squeezes the buzzing skin of your outer thigh.

“Lay down,” he urges. It’s too soft to be a genuine command. It gives him ample opportunity to turn it all into a joke on the off chance you reject him completely.

You don’t. You couldn’t.

You find yourself slithering past him and closer to the headboard before you realize you’re doing it. It’s like you’re made of magic, totally under whatever spell he’s unknowingly cast upon you. Your head’s swimming with his sorcery as you lie back on the pillows. 

Eddie follows you, resting his body above yours. It’s a comfortable sort of weight, heavenly even. He props himself up on his forearms so he isn’t crushing you completely, though you wouldn’t complain if he did. 

You want him to ruin you, and then you want to thank him for it.

The untrimmed edges of his curls hang down over his face. They tickle your jaw when he kisses you with the ardency of someone who wants to swallow you whole. His tongue swipes against yours, slow and more aggressive than either of you expect. He sucks on your swelling bottom lip right after.

The gray world around you explodes with a burst of a thousand colors. You can’t see any of them because the inner workings of your mind have been stripped away and replaced totally with Eddie. His nose nudging against yours. The taste of his mouth. The texture of his tongue. The warmth of his breath. His hand traveling down down down your body.

His palm starts at your cheek, cupping sweetly at your jaw so he can open your mouth wider for him. Then his touch trails down to your neck, taking a brief pitstop to feel the rapid thrum of your racing pulse, before falling to your chest.

You think he must be able to feel your pounding heart through your t-shirt when he cups your breast. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple in time with his tongue diving deep into your mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile when the combined efforts make you shiver.

His fingers smooth over your ribcage, then your stomach, and then your hips. 

It’s a touch featherlight, yet steady and earnest at the same time. His hand creeps slowly over the thin fabric of your shorts and settles between the warmth radiating between your thighs. He cups you gently through your clothes and kisses the breath from your lungs. It’s like he’s trying to kill you.

You buck your hips slightly upward in a silent plea for more. 

The boy above you has the nerve to pull away from you to ask, “This okay?” 

His hair is mussed from where your fingers had entwined so intensely in his chestnut strands. His lips are rosy and swollen and wild. You get lost looking at him. 

With dazed eyes trained on the pink mouth you so desperately want to kiss again, you nod like an enthusiastic child.

“Can I do more?” Eddie wonders through heavy breaths.

“Please,” you hear yourself say, right before your hips cant against the subtle weight of his palm.

You watch with wide, unblinking eyes as Eddie brings his hand to his mouth. His pink tongue darts out to lick the pads of his middle and forefinger, leaving them glistening as he slithers them into your shorts. 

His efforts to be easy with you are appreciated but virtually unnecessary. You’re as slippery as satin for him, drooling in anticipation for him to make you feel good. 

He slides two fingers into your trembling pussy with little effort. The fatty edge of his palm settles over your swelling clit. Your head tilts back against the pillow while you exhale a pretty moan.

With your eyes fluttered shut, you don’t see the crooked grin tugging slow at Eddie’s mouth. “Shh…” he shushes, only half playful, before engulfing your mouth again and swallowing each of your gentle cries. 

He’s moaning with you, though, at the soft squelch your pussy makes when his fingers sink to the knuckle inside you. You feel the smooth metal of his rings on the outside of your cunt and the inside of your thighs.

And fuck, you’re so pretty for him — always so pretty for him — that it makes him forget about the ache of his stiffening cock. His yearning for you throbs like a heartbeat. He wants so desperately to fuck you, to really fuck you until he’s got you gushing all over his lap. But he figures he can settle for this for now. 

But the way you’re moaning for him just now? It doesn’t really feel like settling.

“You’re so pretty,” he hums lowly, almost to himself. “Have I told you that?”

He has. Plenty of times within the few months he’s been able to do that without it being too weird. It feels like the first time he’s ever said it to you, anyway.

A breathy moan spills lightly from your lips, like a spring breeze coated in sunshine. It’s the total opposite of the storm swirling outside the bedroom. 

Your cunt involuntarily squeezes his fingers at the compliment — walls sticky, hot, and pulsing. You all but melt around the two digits he presses inside you.

He figures you must like the praise, which is great ‘cause praising you is the easiest thing on the planet. 

“You have such a pretty pussy, too,” he confesses in a gritty whisper.

You moan for him again, a muffled cry stuck in your throat.

“Feels so warm around my fingers… And you’re so tight, baby— I don’t know how I’m gonna fit my cock in you—”

His words are as sinful as they are vivid. 

Behind your shut eyes, you can see the vision of him on top of you. You can feel his sweaty body sticking to yours like glue — similar to the honey you leak for him while he fucks you. 

If you try hard enough, you can almost replace his fingers for his cock. You know it’s nowhere near as pleasurable as the real thing, though.

The thought of him fucking you — making love to you — has you whining and writhing beneath him. Your hips jut upward, looking for pleasure and running away from it all at once. His fingers squelch as they push in and in and in. You drool impossibly more for him, drenching his fingers and his rings and the cotton sheets below you.

“You could take it though, right?” the boy above you wonders, swollen lips quirked in a heavy half-smile. “You’d take whatever I give you, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

You hardly recognize him now. Not because he’s teasing you — because you’ve gotten more than used to that — but because he’s so damn confident. 

He talks to you with the finesse of a guy who’s done this a thousand times, to a thousand different girls. You’re the first, and you know this, but he’s ruining you like he created you.

You nod with a satin sigh.

The silent admission makes Eddie’s head spin. 

He shouldn’t have you in the first place, the metalhead freak he is, yet he’s got two fingers inside you and your permission to go further. And he wants to — god, he wants to — but he’s scared it’ll drive him crazy. 

Crazier than he already is for you, if that’s possible.

“Get on your side for me, yeah?” he whispers to you, surprising himself with his newfound dominance.

You’re too far gone to do anything but obey him. 

You maneuver onto your side like he asked, feeling like your bones are made of melted honey. Eddie follows you. He keeps his fingers nestled deep inside your thrumming heat as he curls in behind you. 

His stiff, aching cock is hard and heavy against your clothed ass. Despite the layers of clothes separating you, his warmth presses so intently against you. You clench around him at the feeling — tighter when his fingers begin to crook inside you. You tilt your head back and moan, rutting further back against him.

Eddie smushes his nose into your hair and hums a moan in his throat. His heavy exhale fans against the shell of your ear. He keeps working you open with his fingers, a slow and measured rhythm he maintains with the thrusts of his hips.

He’s terribly sensitive, almost embarrassingly so. You drive him too wild for anything else. Even like this, without being inside you and with his clothes still on, he feels like he might explode.

You’re much of the same. The pad of his thumb rubs mercilessly at your swollen clit as his fingers coax you towards a head-spinning orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure crawls up your throat, strikes you like lightning, and swirls in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t run from it if you tried.

It doesn’t stop you from canting your hips back and forth — a feeble attempt to cope with the overwhelming pleasure Eddie gives you with nothing but his hand. With his pale arm caging your side and his lean body behind you, curling and melting with yours, you can only get so far. 

All you can do is take it.

Eddie whimpers delicately in your ear as he humps your ass. He babbles in faint whines — things you don’t think he realizes he’s saying. 

“You’re so hot, baby,” he slurs heavily, swollen mouth tracing the shell of your ear. “So soft, too... Fuck... Keep grinding back on me like that— shit, yeah, just like that. ’S gonna make me come in my fucking pants, baby.”

If you weren’t drowning in the void of your own pleasure, you might’ve asked him to come. No, begged him to. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” you would’ve assured him, only slightly teasing. But you don’t do any of that because his fingers are shoved so far into you that you can feel them in your throat. 

Or maybe that’s just your impending climax choking you. 

You couldn’t form an intelligible sentence if you wanted to, either way. 

Instead, you roll your hips back against his cock and act like he’s fucking you for real. The idea of it alone sends you catapulting into an orgasm. You’re so far gone for him — for the freak of Hawkins — you let him ruin you while you fall for him like the rain pounding at your window. 

Effortlessly, unapologetically, and over and over and over again.

Eddie dampens his boxers in the same way you drench his fingers. His twitching cock drools for you, more and more as he nears his peak. He hasn’t felt anything as gratifying as grinding against you like this. He’s bound to be a fucking goner the second he’s caught inside your snug pussy. 

“Can feel you trembling for me, you know?” he continues to ramble, only half-aware of the sin spilling from his rosy lips. His thumb presses against the fleshy hood of your clit. He’s barely moving it, but the pressure alone has you buzzing.  “You’re gonna cum so hard for me, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over my hand?”

You bite back a cry — quite literally, with your teeth caging your bottom teeth — and lean your head back to bear your throat. You throw a hand back in search of Eddie. Your fingers twist in the mussed curls at the crown of his head.

“Mm, Eddie—” you call in a muffled cry, overwhelmed and half-frightened by how good he’s making you feel. By how hard you’re about to cum for him.

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos sympathetically to you, crooking his fingers in time with his grinds against the plush of your ass. His cock starts to ache all over again, this time with hunger. 

Through a breaking voice, he begs. “Go on and cum for me, yeah? Let me make you feel good, baby. Cum all over my fingers, baby— I need it… I fucking need it. I’m so fucking close—”

You bury your face in the pillow when you cum, crying his name into the cushion for only the two of you to hear. You tense, thighs shaking and toes curling, as you gush around his fingers — like the pouring rain outside. 

You drip mercilessly for him, a slippery mess between your thighs you know you should be ashamed of. You might’ve been, if it were anybody else.

Eddie stills behind you, though his fingers remain relentless. He coaxes you completely through your orgasm just as he’s reaching his own. His moans come out in gasps — choppy, sharp breaths through a swollen mouth. His aching cock spits in the confines of his boxers, several warm loads that cool too quickly. 

He trembles through his high, trying to trek through its entirety but growing so suddenly sensitive. 

You let him work you through yours. His fingers, now wrinkled at the pads, are frozen inside you while his thumb circles softly at your delicate clit. You twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Your hand leaves his hair to grab his wrist, a silent plea that you can’t take anything more.

And the two of you just lie there, for several long moments — sticky, blissed-out, and so intently pressed together. You let the heavy moment of your ebbing orgasms linger. You decompose together in the heavy honey of pleasure.

It’s all so messy, but then again, everything seems to be. 

His hair, his fingers, his boxers. 

Your thighs, your bed, your heart. 

Words. Life. Love.