#eddie is impressed and tries to do the same with chrissy

[hawkinsbnbg]

Eddie: Your argument is invalid.

Steve: Babe, back me up.

Robin: So here's my input in Steve's point–

Eddie: Wait, that's not how it works–

[love-byers]

the first time i saw this, when i was NOT a byler shipper, i thought el was running TO mike. i thought we were getting a sweet moment where el runs to mike and he puts an arm around her or hugs her.

then i realized she was running away from him. 

and i was like, why?? they're supposed to be the couple why does she not want his comfort??

and even after will calls her out on doing mike wrong by lying to him, even after she sees that mike is attempting to talk to her and comfort her, that he's not angry at her, she still tells angela to lie to mike. more lies. that's how much she cares about keeping up the persona. had angela lied to mike, el would've continued lying to him the entire week. something she knows in her heart is wrong and not fair to mike.

this is a theme in s4. putting who you want to be seen as before being honest with your bf/gf. going above and beyond to preserve your lie, to be seen as who you want to be.

chrissy does that with jason. who she portrays herself as is completely different than who she really is and what she's really going through. jason has absolutely no idea chrissy is struggling and refused to believe chrissy would buy drugs, because chrissy didn't want to tell him. who knows how jason would've reacted if chrissy was honest, we don't know because chrissy didn't trust him enough to tell him. that's not love at all, that's sad.

this is a point in s2 as well. murray calls nancy out for being afraid to be her true self, and she stays with steve because she doesn't have to be her true self around him. she is her true self when she's with jonathan, and that's why they worked together. that's love.

the exact same thing happens with chrissy. the first time we see her genuinely smile is when she's with eddie. she's sweet and charismatic, and had she lived she totally would've gone to eddie's show, something you never would've expected from her, something her boyfriend, the person she pretends to love, would NEVER do.

robin and steve reinforce this too

you fall in love with the person who makes you feel accepted, the person who makes you feel like you can be who you are. the person you trust with your true self.

mike and el don't trust each other enough, they don't understand each other well enough.

they would have to change their behavior towards each other by leaps and bounds, and we're already at the last season. there is no time for that. stranger things isn't a multi season show about the complexity of romantic relationships and the healthy way to resolve problems. there is no time for that in just about any movie or show, especially a sci-fi show. you know what's way easier and way more likable? pairing your character with someone they naturally click with, who bring out the best in each other and for some reason can't help but be their authentic selves when they're with each other.

did it with jancy, like i said earlier

did it with lumax. when lucas and max talked on the bus max found herself spewing about things she'd never even said out loud before, and she had to stop herself. something about lucas just made her feel comfortable, like she could be herself and tell the truth. she trusted him.

"You're nothing like your brother, okay? You're cool and different, you're super smart, and you're like, totally tubular."

jopper too! joyce constantly had to hide things from bob, she was insecure about their family not being normal.

"This is not a normal family."

"It could be."

though bob had good intentions, the message of the show is not trying to be normal when you aren't. whatever it is about you that makes you weird or different, whatever you've been through that changed you, stay true to it. dont bottle it up and try to be someone else. all of vecnas victims in s4 were doing this, and it didn't end well for them.

they even did it with dustin and suzie. dustin constantly tries to impress max with his teeth, then in season 3 he says suzie thinks kissing is better without teeth. he doesn't have to be insecure about that or try to impress her. she likes him for him.

mike isn't comfortable being his true self around el either. he's insecure about his interests, he feels like he has to act older and cooler to impress her.

you shouldn't be with the person you feel you have to impress. you should be with the person who relieves that pressure, who makes you feel like being the authentic you is enough.

jonathan and nancy, lucas and max, joyce and hopper, dustin and suzie,

cough WILL AND MIKE cough...

[darklilacs]

How to talk to your crush? Advice number 1 - don’t talk about your nipples

✨️✨️✨️

Cupid was a bastard. There’s no other explanation for why he had made Eddie fall in love with the most “out-of-your-league” boy ever.

Eddie’s poor heart skipped a bit every time Steve Harrington was near. Yeah THE Steve Harrington -retired king of Hawkins High; the most beautiful person Eddie had ever seen; a weird, pretty creature created to haunt Eddie’s dream, through sweet fantasies full of kisses.

Eddie was hopeless. He was a man enough to admit that. He needed help to woo his future husband. And who’s the better option, if not his favorite three apples tall person- Chrissy?

She had a plan. A vision, if you will. She made him buy a fancy spy shit (a wireless earpiece and a microphone). She will tell him what to do through mic and Steve's heart will be his!!

He walked into Scoops Ahoy with a stupid assumption, that he got it. 

“Ahoy, I’m Steve and today I will be your captain. What can I get for you?” Steve smiled.

Oh.

Oh, this is great. He is in a good mood. 

“Ahoy! Can I get a U.S.S. Butterscotch?” Eddie said, losing all of his confidence.

Wow, he almost lost his shit 30 second in. A new record. 

“Talk to him. Say something interesting. You have to intrigue him.” Chrissy voice almost gave him a heart attack. Steve's presence makes him forget about the fact, that she was watching and was trying to give him advice and commentary. 

Something interesting. Okay, he can do that. 

“Did you know, that the skin on your tongue has the same texture as your nipples?” Eddie leaned on the counter nonchalantly.  

He could hear Chrissy facepalming through the earpiece. 

“Something interesting about you, dumbass.” Chrissy tried to save the situation.

You have to give it to her. Maybe she couldn’t stand another love song with the message: “Straight boy (derogatory) doesn’t want me and I'm sad about it”?

Steve looked at him, puzzled.

Yeah, Eddie definitely made an impression on him. But different than he had hoped for. 

“Did you know that my tongue has the same texture as my nipples?” 

“STOP TALKING ABOUT YOUR NIPPLES FOR GOD’S SAKE,” Chrissy didn’t bother to be quiet. Her scream was audible from outside, where she should be hiding behind fake plants. 

“Congratulations,” Steve laughed. 

Holy Shit. 

He laughed. 

Angels started to sing in his head. Eddie felt in that moment like a new God’s favorite child. 

He will spend at least thirty minutes writing about it in his diary, while kicking his feet. 

“Is there anything else you want to share with me?” Steve asked, giving him an ice cream. 

“I have a choir in my head,” Eddie informed him, without a second thought. 

Shit.

He didn't wait for Steve's reaction. He couldn’t handle it. He threw the money on the counter and left quickly.

[theewritingroomm]

A Friendly Favor - Part 4

Summary: As his best friend you are required to help Eddie when he needs it. Especially for everything girl related, including helping him impress Chrissy Cunningham. The only down side… you are hopelessly in love with Eddie Munson.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader (platonic), mentions of Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham

Word Count: 1,046

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, swearing, mentions of unrequited feelings, angst,

A/N: If you asked to be tagged, I tried to tag y'all, those highlighted in blue I could not tag you.

I do NOT consent to my work being translated or published onto third party sites - including AO3 and Wattpad. 

Previous Part

It had been weeks since that night at Eddie’s. Weeks since you had told Eddie what you felt, weeks since you had talked to him at all, weeks since you had sat at the same lunch table as Eddie or attended a Hellfire meeting. It had been weeks since the last time you talked to Eddie and he seemed to be doing just fine. 

Eddie was still performing his theatrics in the hallways and in the cafeteria. He was still going toe-to-toe with Jason and his lackeys. But worst of all was all of the new things that Eddie seemed to be doing now that you were out of the picture. 

Now that you were not around to go to Hellfire meetings and sitting at the lunch table with the guys, Chrissy had taken up residence. She was the one sat next to Eddie laughing at the things that he did and said. She was the one who sat next him in the woods during his deals. She was the one who was sitting front row at the Hideout watching Eddie in his element. And the nail in the coffin for you was the fact that the pair were the talk of the school. There wasn’t a place you could go without hearing about Eddie and Chrissy and how cute the two were together. 

It made you want to scream. 

“Hey Y/N,” you heard from down the hall. Turning towards the voice you saw Dustin Henderson making his way towards you. 

It wasn’t that you had an issue with Dustin, quite the opposite actually. Since he had been coming to Hellfire meetings and hanging around Eddie he had quickly become your favorite newbie. He was funny and witty in a way that had your sides hurting from laughter most of the time. You and Eddie had adopted the boy as your younger brother rather quickly, hardly spending any time after school without the freshman. But since the incident with you and Eddie you had seen about as much of Dustin as you had of Eddie. 

You sighed as the boy got closer. Shutting your locker as he stopped next to you. Dustin had a smile on his face when you turned to him. But upon seeing the worn down expression on your face, the corners of his mouth dropped slightly. Dustin had grown fond of you in the time he had been friends with Eddie and seeing you upset was not something he particularly enjoyed. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his original question dying on his tongue.   

You looked down at the younger boy and shrugged. “I’m fine, as much as I can be.” 

“What does that mean? Is that why you haven’t been coming to Hellfire?” 

You shook your head, trying to clear the millions of racing thoughts that were swirling around in your head. The whole thing was so complicated that you weren’t sure how to even begin telling the younger boy what was wrong. 

“It’s a long story Dustin,” you turned away from the boy and began to walk down the hallway. 

You hoped that he wouldn’t follow you. Knowing that if he did you would end up breaking down and telling him what had happened between you and Eddie. And you could not guarantee that he would comfort you, for all you knew he was going to take Eddie’s side. Further cutting you off from the group of friends you had. 

“He’s taking her to prom.” Dustin exclaimed. Stopping you in your tracks as the words rang in your ears. 

You slowly turned to face the younger boy. Your heart heavy in your chest as you did, recalling how Eddie had shot down the idea of prom months ago when you had brought up wanting to go. He had claimed it would be too ‘conformist’ of him to go and it would go against everything that he believed in. you had accepted it back then, but now…. It hurt. 

“What?” the word got caught in your throat as it tightened with unshed tears. 

“He’s taking her to prom and I think it’s getting real serious.” Dustin tried again. He was hoping that it would get you out of the daze you were in. 

Again your heart clenched. It hurt to hear about how well Eddie and Chrissy were doing, especially when you were so far outside of the loop now. But you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself. 

You sighed, “Well that’s good for them. I hope they’re happy.” 

Finally you were able to walk away from Dustin. Tears welling in your eyes and falling as you rounded the corner to find solace in the first empty classroom that you saw. 

You were finally able to find a classroom. The lights were shut off and the door partially cracked. You listened for a moment, trying to see if anyone else had found the empty room and decided to take advantage of it. When you didn’t hear anything you slowly pushed the door open and finally felt comfortable enough to let the first stream of tears fall down your cheeks. 

As the door swung open and the light from the hallway filtered into the room. As you wiped the tears from your eyes you finally looked into the room. Thus, finally noticing that the room was previously occupied before you had found it. It was occupied by the two people who you were trying your hardest to get away from. 

Standing in the middle of the room, oblivious to the fact that the door had been opened were Eddie and Chrissy. Chrissy was sitting on the edge of a desk, caged in by Eddie leaning against her. They were locked in a passionate make out session, her hands making a mess of Eddie’s already wild curls and his hands were slowly making their way under her cheer skirt. 

The sight left you frozen in the doorway for a moment. Your mind was racing at the sight in front of you, cementing what you had heard from Dustin. It’s getting real serious. After another beat you quickly turned on your heel and ran. You ran down the hall and out a side door, no true destination in mind. You just needed to get away. 

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[penny00dreadful]

Part 8

[Part 1] [Part 7] [AO3] [Cover Art] [Eddie&Chrissy Art]

The tours around the kingdom continued, though thankfully not by Billy this time, even if he tried his luck.

But that didn’t mean they were entirely pleasant affairs. More often than not, the queen insisted on joining them, quite clearly hinting that she didn’t think Chrissy would effectively be able to show off all of the joys of their home country.

Which meant that whenever Steve was taken out into the city below, it was done in a litter, closed off from the citizens and with guards surrounding them, scaring the people into moving out of their way with glaring eyes and hands firmly on their swords.

The market stalls were no better. Steve was being treated to the finest seafood and wares the people had traded for, but they all seemed terrified of him and even more terrified of the queen.

A single frown from her in their direction had them apologising profusely and almost begging her for the opportunity to make it right.

Even if it was something as small as an imperfectly presented platter of food.

More than once Steve had tried to jump in and assure them that everything was okay, but Chrissy’s hand on his arm and the small shake of her head was enough to keep his mouth shut and not rock the boat despite everything screaming at him to do just that.

He suspected that it was more for his sake than for hers. As the days went on the queen’s smile seemed to slowly become more and more strained around Steve.

He got the distinct impression her dissatisfaction with him and how gentle he seemed to be in all things was wearing away at any previous politeness she might have had. 

Robin and Eddie were with them almost always, not carried in their litters but following along behind on foot.

Steve would be more uncomfortable with it if they both hadn’t seemed to take the opportunity to bend their heads close together and conspire with each other.

Or gossip.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what they would talk about, but he could take a guess based on the frequent glances in his and Chrissy’s direction.

No doubt Eddie had heard of the shared affections between Robin and his best friend and he seemed to be just as supportive as Steve had been.

If he were in Eddie’s position, he would have been talking up his best friend as much as he could, as it was he didn’t actually get too much of a chance to do so.

He and Chrissy were far more heavily watched than their two advisors and even when they did have a moment alone, all Chrissy seemed to want to do was talk about Eddie.

His passions, his tastes, his musical ability, how well read he was, how kind his heart was.

If Steve didn’t know any better he’d think that Chrissy was trying to talk Eddie up to him in the same way he had thought about doing for Robin.

It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Chrissy’s efforts, but they were essentially unnecessary.

Steve had fully admitted to himself that it was more than just friendly affection or a simple infatuation and attraction he had for Eddie.

His heart was full every time he looked at him, every time Eddie smiled at him or blinked those big eyes at him, Steve was enchanted.

He was funny, he was catty, he was rude and unrestrained and energetic. He was captivating.

And Steve was drawn to it, like a moth to the flame.

It didn’t hurt that Eddie also seemed to at the very least find him attractive as well, as much as that pulled his plush and lovely mouth down into a frown sometimes.

He seemed conflicted. Almost mad at himself for developing an attraction but he was also slowly becoming less and less ashamed of himself.

Steve had caught him watching his ass a number of times. Or his hands. Or his mouth.

Not that he could really say he hadn’t been doing the exact same thing.

But he understood he was putting Eddie in a bit of an awkward position, having to approach a crowned prince for a chance at romance. But if anything was to progress… it was the best way for things to start.

If Steve approached him… he worried Eddie would feel trapped. 

Like he had to comply for Chrissy’s safety and Steve would never want to put him in that position.

He wanted to pout about it and kick rocks, making them skitter along the cobblestones streets as he was brought down to the docks, but again, he was confined to this ridiculous litter.

He was to be presented with Stoirmeach’s extensive collection of warships, the naval force that was the primary draw for marrying into this kingdom and it wasn’t like he didn’t want to know about something that could aid his people if it came down to it, but he would have appreciated maybe a moment to himself.

Something he felt like he hadn’t gotten in days and days.

Steve sighed to himself as his litter came to a stop and there was a knock on the door, telling him they had arrived. He’d request a few days off once they got back, just time enough to catch his breath and center himself.

They were well into their second week here at this stage and he felt like he hadn’t stopped moving even once.

And it appeared that that was not due to change any time soon. 

The local carpenters and tradesmen were already beginning to construct the arena for a day full of jousting and feasting and revelry that was soon coming.

The celebration would take place a day or two before they were all due to leave to head back to Torthúil in under two weeks, to give everyone a chance to recover from the merriment and Steve thought that those two weeks couldn’t pass quick enough.

He was looking forward to the jousting though.

There had been several raised eyebrows when he had expressed his eagerness to compete, but he got his way.

It had been too long since he sat astride a horse.

Steve stepped out of his litter and stared up at the intimidatingly huge ships in front of him, creaking and swaying with the waves, sails fluttering, the smell of fish and salt in the air.

He expected Chrissy to appear at his side, same as she had done on every other tour, taking his arm and smiling demurely, if not a little strained whenever her mother was around but always genuine when she looked at him.

Instead his arm remained empty and when he looked across at the other litter he found Chrissy leaning close to Eddie’s side, muttering to him. 

Eddie himself barely seemed to be able to hear her, his wide eyes fixed on the gargantuan ship above as though he expected it to topple over on top of them.

Chrissy moved slightly and as Steve approached he could see Eddie’s hand white knuckling her long sleeve, hidden between their two bodies.

Robin was by his side as they stepped lightly towards them, coming into their line of sight before they were on top of them so as not to frighten Eddie who was clearly very spooked.

“Steve, do you mind if I stay by Eddie’s side for this tour?”

Steve looked over at him, Eddie still had his hand fisted in Chrissy’s sleeve and his face was a few shades greener than Steve was used to seeing it, eyes no longer fixed on the ship but instead now fixed on the water, only a few feet away.

Steve wanted to reach out and brush a hand over his cheek, press his palm into his back, curl him into his side.

Instead he had to content himself with asking, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine.” Eddie muttered through gritted teeth. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He seemed to be one loud noise away from turning and running.

And based on the amused looks the Stoirmeach guard were sending their way, that would just make things worse for him in the end.

Steve nodded at Chrissy, sending her a small smile when she let out a sigh of relief and prised Eddie’s fingers from her sleeve, instead curling his hand around her elbow.

Steve fell back in line with Robin as the ship's Captain came down the gangway to greet them, keeping one eye on Eddie as the Captain bowed to him and began explaining their military tactics, leading them with a sweeping arm back up the ship.

As they were led around the deck and shown the various provisions, equipment and weapons on board, Steve noticed that Chrissy always oriented herself so she was on the outside, closest to the water, keeping Eddie further into the deck.

As the tour went on, Eddie went nearly white as a sheet when they were led below decks to inspect the canons and he didn’t much improve as they went topside again.

He looked like he was about to pass out.

He kept rhythmically swallowing and there was the slightest tremble to his hand not curled around Chrissy’s elbow, fear and apprehension painted plain all over his expressive face.

Was he seasick? Did he not like ships?

There was the sound of sniggering behind him and Steve heard “oops” before a Stoirmeach soldier pantomimed slipping on the deck, throwing his hand out and shoving Eddie towards the edge.

His hand slipped from Chrissy’s elbow and he flew back, white hot panic burning bright in his eyes.

The railing was quite high and so the chances of Eddie going overboard were relatively slim but Steve had moved before he’d even registered it. Even if he had allowed himself to think about it, he wouldn’t have wanted to take that chance anyway.

He lunged forward, catching Eddie tight around the waist and pulling him in close and safe to his side before either of them had a chance to hit wood.

Eddie clung to him like a drowning man, like he was trying to stay afloat, no matter how much it might damage his pride later, almost unable to hold his own weight up with the shock. He was shaking like a leaf in a strong wind, all colour gone from his face and on the verge of passing out completely.

Steve kept him upright, kept him tucked in tight and turned his head to glare at the soldier, promising a world of pain with his gaze alone as the soldier seemed taken aback for a moment at the level of hate that was sent towards him before quickly averting his eyes and mumbling out that he had slipped.

Steve gave Eddie a little squeeze, quiet and unseen, just a small dose of encouragement, though he wanted to do much more before he gently tilted Eddie into Chrissy again, never once taking his eyes off that soldier.

Once Eddie was safely passed over, clutching tight onto Chrissy in the same way, Steve turned his whole body, taking a step to the side to block them from sight.

“What is your name?”

The soldier in front of him opened and closed his mouth silently. 

The entire ship was dead quiet apart from the sounds of Eddie’s shaky breathing behind him, even the wind and sails had ceased to blow.

“An-Andy Johnson, Your Highness.”

“Well, Andy Johnson, I suggest you watch your footing better in future.” He practically growled. “Wouldn’t want any unfortunate accidents to befall you.”

Andy blanched, nervously swallowing before giving Steve an apprehensive bow, like he was scared to take his eyes off of him.

“I think we’ll conclude this tour for today.” Steve said, turning his charming smile back on the Captain who was also glaring at the soldier, most likely for ruining his chance to brag to a visiting prince. “Perhaps we can continue another time?”

“Very well, Your Highness.” The Captain bowed to him, leading them back down the gangway and towards their litters.

“I hope you won’t let the action of one rogue soldier colour your whole experience here.”

One rogue soldier? Steve thought. All of the soldiers seem to thrive off of cruelty.

Steve shot back a strained smile and nodded, waiting until Chrissy and Eddie were bundled away before he stepped back inside his own litter.

He  was able to last barely a half an hour before temptation won.

He was standing in front of Eddie’s bedroom door with his fist raised to knock, but he halted at the last second, biting at his lip.

Eddie probably didn’t want to see anyone right now, he had been so shaken up, on the verge of fainting.

Both he and Chrissy had disappeared before Steve’s litter even stopped in front of the castle doors.

But Steve was so worried.

He couldn’t get the look on Eddie’s face out of his head. The raw panic and fear in his expression as he went careening towards the edge of the ship and towards the water.

Steve had never seen Eddie as vulnerable as he just had and on top of it, being practically assaulted by that guard filled Steve with so much anger on top of an almost terrifying wave of protectiveness.

“I can hear you shuffling around outside.” Eddie’s muffled voice came from behind the door. “Just say what you came here to say and fuck off, I’m not in the moo-“

The door swung open and Eddie blinked at Steve in surprise and blinked at his hand, still raised ready to knock.

“Stevie?” Eddie baulked, clearly not who he had been expecting to be standing behind his door. “What are you doing here?”

He had the colour back in his cheeks and his eyes were bright and alive again. His outer leathers and boots had been shed, leaving him in just a soft billowing dark undershirt and his leather pants. He still wore his jewellery and he had taken the braids out of his hair. He was dressed for comfort and he looked so soft.

It felt almost indecent to see him in such a state. 

“I…” Steve swallowed, finally lowering his hand. “I just wanted to check on you. See if you were okay after… everything.”

“Oh, a personal visit from royalty?” Eddie smirked, raising his eyebrows, completely comfortable in his state of undress. “Why not save yourself the trouble and send your advisor instead?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m not here, officially. This isn’t like… a political visit.” His eyes drifted downward, unfortunately settling on the curves and creases along Eddie’s undershirt, hiding what Steve knew to be a trim waist inside bunches of fabric. “I was just worried about you.”

“Well, aren't you very sweet?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth tilted up a little and he halfheartedly shrugged one shoulder.

He’d done it, he’d confirmed Eddie was okay. Eddie was fine.

So why was he still hovering?

“I suppose the polite thing to do would be to invite you inside,” Eddie said, tilting himself out of the way, “though I don’t think I have anything particularly royal to offer you by way of food or drinks.”

“I don’t mind.” Steve said, stepping into Eddie’s room, completely ignoring any part of his brain telling him this was a bad idea or just outright unseemly.

He was met with an explosion of green. Fluffy or shiny or cascading plants hanging from the ceiling or sitting on shelves or dotted around the floor and nearly every surface. There was a roaring fire against one wall, giving the room a warm orange glow against the approaching evening darkness.

It smelled like Steve had walked into a forest, the green scent of leaves and dirt and wood surrounded him but underneath it all, there was that familiar spicy, warm smell that always followed Eddie around.

Steve was left shuffling as he closed the heavy wooden door behind him. “So… how are you?” He asked while Eddie padded back over to his bed, perching on the edge and crossing his legs underneath him.

“I’m fine.” Eddie shrugged.  “It’s nothing I’m not used to anyway.”

Steve frowned.

“You know every time you say something like that it breaks my fucking heart.”

Eddie’s face slackened in surprise before he hid it, closing himself off again.

“Then I’ll try to stop saying it to you from now on.”

“No.” Steve took a step forward. “No that’s not what I mean I just… I don’t like the shit you have to deal with. It’s obscene.”

Eddie scoffed. “I’ve been dealing with it all my life, it’s no skin off my back, Stevie. I’m the weird Outsider freak. I mean, are you honestly going to tell me things will be much different back in your own kingdom?”

“Yes.” He answered with as much conviction as he could.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Of course you’d say that. Maybe it won’t happen in front of you, but it’s the same wherever I go.”

“It is not the same back in Torthúil. No one will treat you that way.”

“Because I’ll be part of the future queen’s household,” Eddie waved his hand, “yeah, yeah.”

“Eddie.” Steve stepped forward again and caught the waving hand in his own. “People won’t treat you like dirt back home. We’re not like that. And if anyone does-“

“They’ll have you to answer to?” Eddie snarked, disbelieving, eyes focused in on their clasped hands.

“No. They’ll have Dustin to answer to.”

Eddie tore his eyes away from their hands to look up at him from his still seated position. “Who’s Dustin?”

“He’s a little shit is who he is.” Steve’s eyes were still down on their hands and he couldn’t bring himself to break the touch. “The son of the Mistress of the Royal Kitchens and very, very self assured about what he feels is right. He didn’t stand for people initially having reservations about Will and El when they first came into the household and he won’t stand for any kind of hate towards you.” He brushed his fingers over Eddie’s rings, giving one a gentle turn around before he started inching his touch down Eddie’s thumb.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think of the kids much while he was here, he knew it would just send a stabbing pain of longing through his heart but he allowed himself to feel it now. 

“Before I came here, the kid gave me a run down of what he had read about your people, about your Nightbloom flower,” Steve's fingers caressed the edge of a green leaf inked into that thumb, “and your markings. He’s fascinated by them. You’re probably going to be bombarded with questions as soon as you arrive.”

Eddie was watching the path Steve’s fingers were making with attentive eyes, but he too didn’t pull away.

“How old is this kid?” He asked, his voice low and soft, like he didn’t want to disturb the moment, the quiet between them only punctuated by the crackling of the fire and the gentle whistling of the wind outside the now dark window. 

“About Max’s age.” Steve muttered back. “Thirteen or so.”

Steve continued to press his fingers along Eddie’s thumb, slowly following the vine down and into the loose cuff of his sleeve, brushing a light touch against Eddie’s pulse point, wondering just how it would taste if he was to press a kiss to that pulse-

It was the tiny little inhale of breath coming from Eddie’s plush lips that snapped Steve back to himself and he dropped Eddie’s hand like he’d been burned, stumbling back a step.

“I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what… I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s hand dropped back to his lap, his fist slowly tensing and releasing like he was trying to get the feeling back but a small little hopeful part of Steve thought that maybe it was to help keep the feeling of Steve’s fingers on his skin.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Well, you gotta let little Dustin know that I won’t be selling out the Nightbloom secrets just so it can be commercialised and added to your Rainbow Sea. That flower, it’s important to my people and I won’t have it turned into another trading opportunity that will only benefit your kingdom, with no love or care taken for its cultivation.”

Steve tilted his head to the side.

“So you do know how to grow it?”

Eddie’s shoulders tensed and his mouth pulled down into a frown. He uncrossed his legs, allowing them to come down and hang over the edge of his bed, like he was positioning himself in case he needed to fight.

Steve held his hands up. “Listen, you don’t have to tell the kid anything you don’t want to-“

“You’re telling me that you yourself don’t want a rare flower in your collection?”

Steve had an almost wild thought of blurting out that he would love to have a rare dark flower in his collection, but he wasn’t talking about the Nightbloom. 

He almost shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. 

What was this? 

Some epic romantic legend? 

“If you don’t want us to know how to grow your culture's valued flower, then you don’t have to tell us. Dustin and El might pester you a little but you’re not required to tell them anything you don’t want to.”

Eddie still had a distrustful frown on his face but his body relaxed a little more, leaning back on his hands and knees falling open a little more.

The movement pulled the leather pants tight, the fabric straining against his thighs and his crotch, almost highlighting them and Steve was a weak man, completely powerless to resist the draw.

“Does His Highness see something he wants?”

Steve snapped his eyes back up, face flushing with the realisation he’d been caught staring.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, an apology.” Eddie pouted, a little mean, spreading his legs a little further. “Come on, Highness. We both know you’re going to have me at your beck and call once you get me back to your kingdom. Are you going to tell me now that you’re not going to take advantage of that?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth in shock, trying to speak but there wasn’t anything coming out. 

Something sour was twisting in his gut. 

He hated what Eddie was insinuating. He hated it.

“No.” He vehemently shook his head. “Never. Not like that.”

“No?” Eddie pushed himself to his feet and stalked towards him.

He grabbed Steve by the hips and walked them back until Steve hit the bedroom door. He leaned in close, pressing his nose into the delicate skin of Steve’s neck.

“I could provide such good service.” He rumbled. 

“Eddie what-” Steve brought his hands up, placing them on Eddie’s shoulders. “What the hell has come over you?”

He was reeling. 

The shift in Eddie’s behaviour had come so fast and so sudden he didn’t know what to do with it and it made him feel almost lecherous the way his heart was hammering out of his chest, having Eddie pressed up tight against him, chest to chest.

“I see how you look at me,” Eddie whispered to him, breath tickling his ear. “I just want to know what is to be expected of me once we leave here.” He slowly nosed his way back down over Steve’s jaw. “You want to fuck me, is that it?”

Eddie ducked his head and Steve’s body betrayed himself, letting out a shaky exhale at the feeling of lips against his neck.

“Or does His Highness want to get fucked?”

What on earth was happening? Steve’s brain was whirring, attempting to maintain control and not be lost to the haze of lust that was overcoming him despite how wrong everything felt.

He prefers to freak people out. Says you can see who people really are when you’ve taken them by surprise. With all of the politeness and etiquette stripped away, there’s only them left.

Steve, hands still on Eddie’s shoulders, pushed him back, keeping him at arm's length.

“Stop.”

Eddie’s eyebrows were pinched, not in confusion or hurt, but in irritation almost. His cheeks were bright and his breath was ragged, his shoulders were tense.

Steve’s gaze darted between Eddie’s trying to find a reason for what had just happened.

When he found nothing but guarded emotions, his shoulders slumped and a heavy sigh escaped his mouth.

“Do you…” he shook his head, taking a bolstering inhale. “Do you actually want something like this or are you just testing me?”

Steve was pretty sure he knew what the answer was, probably a little bit of yes to both, but at this stage he was at a loss of how to assure Eddie of his safety that didn’t sound performative or an empty promise anymore. 

He didn’t know how to help Eddie trust him.

Eddie seemed determined to doubt him and while Steve understood why, it didn’t mean he wasn’t still hurt by it.

“What would you do if I said I didn’t want this?” Eddie snapped back, crossing his arms, but staying within Steve’s grip. “That I was just testing you?”

“Then…” Steve dropped his hands from Eddie’s shoulders in defeat.  “I’m sorry to have put you in such an awkward position.”

“And I’m not going to end up in your dungeons or-“

“No!” Steve nearly cried out. “Gods, Eddie!” He side-stepped to get some more space between them, retreating further into the bedroom and away from the intoxicating smell of Eddie. “Listen, I understand you’ve been through the shit and you’ve dealt with assholes for your entire life but when have I ever shown you that I am one of them? Do you really think I’d lock you up in our dungeons if you rejected my advances or that I’d chain you to my bed and make you comply? Have I given you such a disgusting impression? Do you really think so lowly of me?”

Eddie’s face had gone slack with shock at Steve’s outburst but now he seemed to be ready to match Steve’s level, turning and pointing at him. 

“I don’t know what to think about you! You confuse the shit out of me! You haven’t been able to take your eyes off me since we first met and even after you encouraged your best friend to pursue your future wife, you still didn't try to get me into your bed? It doesn’t make any sense! People in your position always try to take what they want regardless of what anyone else says.”

“When have I ever done that?!” Steve almost growled in frustration. “Yes, I like you, I’m attracted to you. Yes, I’d love to bed you but I didn’t want you to feel pressured! The idea that you might have felt like you had to reciprocate to keep yourself or Chrissy safe fucking terrifies me. Nothing scares me more than the idea we might have started something, only for me to find out at some point in the future you never felt that way? That the person I was with never really wanted it, never really cared for me the same way? It scares the shit out of me, Eddie. I am past the point in my life when I just want someone in my bed and that’s it.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I don’t want someone who’ll bend over for me whenever I ask them to, I want something reciprocal. Equitable. I want someone who isn’t scared to tell me ‘no’ when they want to, or tell me when I’m making a stupid decision or argue with me if I’m being unreasonable. I want a relationship, not just a bedwarmer!”

Eddie was looking at the ground, his face unreadable, arms crossed and mouth in a tight line.

“Is that what you want from me?”

“Yes. But not if it is something that you do not want too.”

Steve released his hand from his heart, bringing it up to run through his hair, the fire crackling merrily beside him and the wind whining outside.

“Listen… I… I’m gonna just go, okay? I’m sorry about what happened to you today and I hope you’re feeling better, and I’m sorry for any… confusion I’ve caused.”

He straightened out his doublet, smoothing his hands down the front and rolled his shoulders back. 

Eddie still had not moved from his position, he hadn’t looked up, he was still staring at the floor and continued to stare down as Steve stepped back around him.

He had a hand on the door handle and had only managed to pull it open an inch or two before it was slammed closed again, a ringed and inked hand flat on the wood next to Steve’s head.

When Steve let go of the door handle, slowly, Eddie too lowered his hand and took a small step back.

He didn’t turn around, didn’t glance back to look at him, just waited for an explanation, an answer, something.

“I…” Eddie started, then stopped. “There… it’s happened before.”

Steve finally turned, leaning his body back up against the door.

“What’s happened before?”

“People have… made demands of me.” Eddie was staring now at the wood just over Steve’s shoulder, his arms crossed again, a hand clasped at each elbow. “They thought I’d cower or simper or give in and I never did. So I learned… to keep my guard up and be careful, so… I just had to be sure.”

Steve felt his own mouth pull down into a frown now.

“Who?”

He was pretty sure he knew exactly who and he’d rip the blonde curls from his head if it was the last thing-

“Doesn’t matter.” Eddie finally looked up at him and shrugged. “I’ll be out of here soon enough, right?”

Steve’s frown didn’t budge. “Right.”

“So you…” Eddie’s eyes were exploring his own, much the same as they had many times before. “You want… a relationship with me.”

Steve closed his eyes and tipped his head back, feeling it thunk against the door.

“Yes. But not-”

“Not if I don’t want it too.”

“Yeah.”

“I do.” Eddie said. “Want it too. If I could have it.”

Steve opened his eyes and tilted his head back down, to find Eddie standing much closer than he had been before.

There was something that felt terribly like hope blooming in his chest.

“Can I…” Eddie chewed on his lip for a moment, before finally setting it free. “Can I kiss you?”

Steve studied Eddie’s face, waiting for any kind of hesitation or regret, and kind of uncertainty but he didn’t find any.

“Okay.”

Eddie stepped forward slowly, gently taking Steve’s face in between his hands and leaned in.

His lips were warm and plump and soft, just like Steve knew they would be, they pressed against his own like they belonged there. 

They fit. 

Steve’s hands had a mind of their own, worming around Eddie’s waist, pulling him tight, flush against his chest, leaning both of their weights back against the wood of the door.

It didn’t take long for the swipe of a tongue and a soft almost whimpering exhale to sound in Steve’s throat, but he stayed where he was. Despite his want to shove Eddie back on his bed and ravish him until he was a trembling mess, he didn’t allow himself that luxury. He wanted Eddie to be assured of his safety, so Steve wouldn’t do anything unless Eddie wanted it.

But apparently Eddie did want it.

He pulled Steve away from the door and turned them, mouths still attached until he pushed and Steve went crashing down onto the mattress.

He wasn’t alone for long because a second later, Eddie scrambled onto his lap and laid his body flat against him, sealing their mouths back together like he was a starving man.

It was only when his attention moved onto Steve’s jaw and neck that Steve was above to uncloud his mind enough to speak.

“How far-“ Steve huffed out, getting cut off when a set of teeth latched onto his throat. “How far?”

“Whatever you’ll give me. I’ll take it.” Eddie muttered against his skin.

Steve chuckled a little.

“You’ll take it, will you?” He punctuated his words with a little roll upwards of his hips, both in an attempt to drive Eddie a little wilder, which worked, and to feed the animalistic urge in his blood to rut up against him.

He could feel Eddie’s lips stretch into a grin.

“Seems only polite. You’re a guest in my room, after all. It’s fitting I should be a good host.” He ground his hips down over the last two words. The two of them were hard and panting, their faces flushed and Steve could see the minor bump, bump, bump of Eddie’s pulse in his neck.

“You sure?” Steve breathed out. “You want everything? Because we can-“

“Oh yeah, sweetheart.” Eddie sat upright, putting all of his weight down on Steve’s hard dick. “Give me everything.” He rolled his hips around, punching the wind straight out of Steve’s chest.

“Alright, shit.” Steve breathed. “Okay. I can do that.”

“But I’m staying up here. I want to see everything.”

“That’s…” Steve exhaled as Eddie started working at the buttons and straps on his doublet. “Good, yeah. Yeah, that’s good.”

He didn’t know how Eddie managed it, but he was being manhandled up into a sitting position before he could even get his mind around what was happening and in the next few seconds he had his doublet and undershirt stripped off.

Eddie was still in his lap but he froze when he finally took in the sight before him, staring down at his chest, his eyes blown black and his mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

“What-“

Steve was shoved back onto the mattress hard and Eddie splayed his fingers out wide, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s chest hair.

“Oh, fuck me.” Eddie muttered.

Steve winced at the sting a little but it was still on the good side of pain.

“Soon.” He smirked back, rolling his hips up and his heart kicked around wildly in his chest as Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re fucking perfect.” Eddie gave his chest hair one last tug and shakily stood back up on his own two legs, hands flying to the strings holding Steve’s pants closed.

Steve sat up, hands snapping to Eddie’s ass still surrounded by leather. He squeezed those little cheeks tighter and pulled him closer.

Eddie’s fingers didn’t halt their movements but he sighed softly as Steve pressed his face to Eddie’s chest, nosing through the thin undershirt material he was still wearing, opening his mouth and laying his wet tongue flat over the raised point of one of Eddie’s nipples.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Steve muttered, allowing his lips and teeth to drag over the pert and sensitive nub of flesh.

“In a minute.” Eddie breathed, gritting his teeth, trying to keep his focus. His hands were beginning to shake and couldn’t help but grin against his chest, squeezing his fingers tight once more.

He continued to suck and flick at the nipple in his mouth, feeling a spark of pride and arousal course through him whenever Eddie stuttered in his movements.

Steve slowly worked his hands up, slipping his fingers under Eddie’s shirt where it was messily untucked at the back, feeling that soft smooth skin underneath explode in goosebumps at the smallest brush.

“Okay, fine, fine. I’m getting undressed.” Eddie pouted, giving Steve’s shoulder a weak shove, trying to push him away but Steve stayed right where he was, holding on tight.

“I’m rather enjoying myself here.”

“Stevie.” Eddie whined out, almost begging and Steve had to bite down on his nipple at that, he had to, he had no other choice, the sound was just so delicious.

The sound that came out of Eddie’s throat was enough to drive him completely wild.

Steve unlatched his mouth and shot to his feet, pulling Eddie’s undershirt over his head as he did it.

Steve knew that Eddie had ink in his skin, he’d seen small peeks of it over his collar and disappearing under the sleeves on his hand but he had no idea Eddie was as covered in ink as he was.

The green and blue vines dotted with leaves ran up the entirety of his right arm, starting at his hand and  ending at his neck. They extended the whole way down his side as well, skating around his shoulder and across his ribs before disappearing into the waist of his tight leather pants.

Steve held his ravishing off for just a few moments more, trailing over them with a light finger, following their path while Eddie stood and watched him, his breathing ragged.

“Did you do these yourself?”

Eddie just nodded, eyes never leaving Steve’s face.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

The sound of a dry throat swallowing brought Steve’s gaze back up. 

He tilted his head a little questioningly and Eddie glanced away.

“It’s just not… something I hear every day.” He shrugged, trying to pass it off as nonchalant but Steve took his chin with gentle fingers, bringing their eyes back together.

“Then it’s something I’ll have to say to you every day from now on, won’t I?”

Eddie’s face lit up red again, the beautiful blush on his cheeks radiating down his neck and spilling into his chest and he brought his hands up to cover his face, letting out an almost hysterical giggle.

“Fuck.” He muttered, peeking his eyes out in between his fingers. “How are you real?”

Steve didn’t answer him, just pulled his hands away from his face by the wrists and brought him in for a kiss as sweet as honey.

Eddie’s knees went weak and he stumbled a little, Steve catching him fast around the waist again with one arm to hold him up right, while the other started working at the laces of his leather pants. 

“Stevie,” Eddie muttered against his mouth, “Stevie, please. I need-”

“What do you need, my love?” Steve whispered back, slowly peeling Eddie’s pants down his hips.

Eddie’s knees did go out from under him at that, the two of them falling backwards onto the bed in a heap, much the same way they had been only a few moments before.

“I need you. Please, Stevie.”

“You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Their kisses became heated again and it didn’t take much longer after that for Steve to hurriedly get his pants only half way down his thighs, kissing down every inch of available skin he could get his mouth on while Eddie stood, trying to kick his way out of his own leathers, fingers digging into Steve’s shoulders for balance.

“Do you have something,” Steve asked, kissing his way back up Eddie’s chest, “to ease my way in?”

“Yeah, it’s-” Eddie tore himself away from Steve’s grip with a great amount of effort and stumbled on shaky legs over to his desk, rummaging around in one of the draws before practically pouncing back onto Steve’s lap, a corked bottle of oil in his hand.

Eddie yanked the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, spitting it somewhere across the room and tipped it over, liberally coating his fingers.

Steve had expected him to reach behind himself, begin to open himself up, but instead, he took Steve’s cock in hand, getting him wet, giving him a few pumps for good measure that zapped through Steve’s body like lightning, his eyes slowly slipping shut at the ecstasy.

The hand on him disappeared and Steve opened his eyes at the sound of a breathy moan, Eddie’s oiled up hand had disappeared behind himself and he was slowly rocking his hips back and forth, hovering up on his knees.

Steve relaxed back flat on the bed, bringing his hands up to rest behind his head and he settled in to watch the vision above him.

Eddie sent him a cheeky little smile, peeking down at him through his bangs and Steve had to try not to flinch as a hand grasped him hard again.

“Are you ready?” Eddie asked, that mischievous grin lighting up his face.

“Are you?” Steve shot back, gripping his hands tight at Eddie’s hips.

Eddie didn’t answer, just placed one hand down flat on Steve’s chest for balance and sank himself down, almost painfully slowly, that pink blush spilling over his chest as his mouth hung open.

When he finally bottomed out, small little breathy whines crawling up his throat as he adjusted, Steve had to use all of his self control to stop himself from grabbing him and fucking him through the stone wall across from them.

Eddie folded himself down, bringing their mouths back together and with a stuttering exhale against Steve’s lips, he began to move.

Time was lost to him, Steve didn’t know how long Eddie bounced on top of him, riding him down into the mattress below. It was like all intelligent thought left his head and all he knew was Eddie on top of him, surrounding him, warm and wet and letting out the most delicious sounds, rolling his hips in such a way that Steve didn’t think he’d ever be able to recover. 

His hair was sticking to his forehead, the heat and smell of the two of them becoming almost overwhelming, that familiar spicy scent cutting through every time Eddie bounced down particularly hard.

When his breath started to come hard and fast and his face was twisting up in pleasure, Steve surged up, crashing their mouths back together, digging his hands into Eddie’s hair and he drove himself upwards, in as deep as he could reach, swallowing down Eddie’s cries with an almost feral hunger as he came untouched in Steve’s lap.

Steve followed not long after, holding Eddie tight to him as he whimpered into his mouth, unwilling to let him go for anything or anyone.

[Part 1] [Part 7] [AO3] [Cover Art] [Eddie&Chrissy Art]

As always, major thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the magnificent beta work, @arelliann for their beautiful artwork, dividers and header, and to all my cheerleaders helping to keep me motivated. 🥰

[hbyrde36]

Times Like These (The Anniversary Edition)

CH 1 CH 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10

Chapter 11: Broken

WC: 4999 | AO3 link

The house was a flurry of activity, with everyone rushing around to make their final preparations as the clock ticked down to dusk when they would set off for Benny’s to put their plan into motion one last time. 

At least Eddie hoped this would be the last time. 

He didn’t see Steve again until they arrived at the old abandoned burger place and started unloading the sound system, speakers, and wire from the back of his van, stacking it all near the gate that led to the Upside Down. 

Hopper and Nancy stood guard with weapons drawn as he and Steve traversed back and forth into the other dimension, making sure everything was set up and ready to go for Robin and Chrissy to provide the distraction that would draw the bats away from Vecna’s lair.

They stole sideways glances at each other as they worked, not speaking or even properly making eye contact until El pulled them both aside to talk.

“It does not change much from your side of things, but I wanted to explain. I will not be piggybacking into Eddie’s mind. I will wait until Henry is distracted and go into his mind directly.”

Eddie tilted his head, impressed. It was a good idea to change tactics. “Like sneaking in the back door while he’s looking out the front. Okay, yeah, I get it.”

“Yes!” She agreed brightly. “Since he has seen in your mind and has an idea of our plan he will be looking for me in your memories, while I will be sneaking in through his.”

“So what do you need me to do?”

“You still need to think of some happy memories to hide in. The longer you keep him busy, the more time I have to get close before he realizes. The important thing is, you must keep moving, do not let him get too close. I will not be looking for you, so you will be on your own. Jonathan will signal Joyce again with the flashlight when it is time for Steve to pull you out.”

She held Eddie’s gaze firmly until he nodded his understanding, then turned to Steve. “But—If he starts to float, do not wait. Pull him out right away.”

Steve dipped his chin. “I will.” 

“What if you need more time?” Eddie asked. 

“I won’t.” She insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument.

All too soon it was time to separate, the goodbyes and good lucks a bit more somber this time around without the rest of the kids there to witness it.

Hopper gave Eddie an unexpected pat on the back before walking off with Joyce to share a private moment by the cars. Jonathan shook his hand, while Nancy gave him a warm smile and a squeeze on the arm before the two of them wandered off as well, keeping an eye on El while she waited for her dad.  

Robin was the next to approach, pulling him into a surprisingly tight hug, and whispering a quiet “good luck” before giving up her place to Chrissy and making her way over to where Steve stood.

Chrissy took him into her arms, rocking them side to side as she buried her face in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing her in as he held her back, this precious girl, the only constant he’d really allowed himself to have this go around. She whispered soft words of encouragement to him, making him promise to stay safe while he did the same to her.

When they finally broke apart he found himself staring over her shoulder at the place where he and Steve had shared their own emotional goodbye in the last loop, the moment everything had changed, when he’d been cradled so gently in the other boy’s arms. 

It was the same spot where Steve stood now, holding Robin this time, as they too made quiet promises to each other to be careful, where he gave her his baby, his precious nail bat to protect herself with, because weapons would be of no use to him where they were going, wouldn’t help if and when Eddie started to float. 

“Remember, no matter what happens, one way or another I’ll see you on the other side.” Chrissy said, drawing his attention back.

He tried to smile at her, to nod, but the pit in his stomach wouldn’t allow for much more than a twitch of his upper lip. He took her hand instead, squeezed it. 

“See you on the other side, Chris.”

He looked up again to find Steve’s eyes on him now too, and they walked together in silence to Steve’s car, Joyce already waiting for them in the passenger seat. 

Eddie did his best to clear his head on the way to the Creel house, staring out the window as he cataloged the happiest moments of his life, pretending not to notice the way Steve kept trying to catch his eye in the rear view mirror.

To be extra safe, they parked Steve’s BMW behind the dilapidated house where it couldn't be seen from the street. There was no reason to think Jason would be out looking for them this time, but they were taking no risks. 

Before they parted in the front yard, her for the jungle gym across the street, and them for the attic where they suspected Vecna would be lurking on the other side, Joyce faced them both and smiled.  

“You can do this honey, I know you can,” she said, cupping Eddie’s cheek with one hand before doing the same to Steve with her other. “Take care of each other up there. I’ll come check on you after the final signal.”

-

Eddie could feel Steve's gaze on him again, the weight of it heavy, as they held their lamps aloft and carefully climbed the stairs to the attic. They had to be as quiet as possible, so as not to draw Vecna’s attention before the others were ready.

They took up positions by a window, leaning against the wall on either side of it so they could see out to where Joyce was waiting to signal them, and after a moment of eerie silence, where they could hear nothing but the barest of sounds emanating from both of their headphones, Steve pulled a notebook and pen out of the inner pocket of his jacket, scribbling something on it quickly before holding it out to Eddie.

Scared?

Eddie made no move to take the pad out of his hand, only stared down at the single word inked there in stark black on the white page. He swallowed hard, shrugging as he looked away from Steve’s penetrating stare. 

Of course he was scared, he wanted to say. He was fucking terrified. 

That their plan wouldn’t work—that it would. 

That he’d die and it would all start over again—that he’d die and it wouldn’t, no more 1ups, game over.

Steve pulled the notebook back to himself, flipped to a fresh page and wrote again, shoving both the pad and pen forcibly into Eddie’s hands, as if to say he wouldn’t take silence for an answer this time. 

Why didn’t you want me here?

Though they were more than fair, the words stung to see. 

God—Eddie had really fucked up, hadn’t he? And it wasn’t like this was the first time it occurred to him that he’d handled things badly this time around, he was well aware, but it was hitting him hard now as Steve stared at him, looking so hurt and angry. 

But what could he do? They were out of time for confessions or explanations. 

Eddie wrote back, knowing his short apology was entirely inadequate, but it was all he could offer under the current circumstances. 

I'm sorry, It’s complicated. 

Steve read the note with a clenched jaw, shaking his head.

The signal came then, three flashes through the window from Joyce, and Eddie was officially out of time. He met Steve’s wounded gaze and wished he’d been brave enough to do it all differently. 

At that moment Eddie made up his mind, and maybe it was a little—or a lot—too late, but he decided this was it, it was going to work this time. He could do this, El could do this, they could all do this. And when it was over he would tell Steve everything—all of it. From what they’d been to each other once—what he’d hoped they’d been at least—to how he felt about him now. He would hold nothing back, and whatever would be, would be. At least then he could say he’d tried.

Steve started to tuck the notepad away but Eddie reached out to grip his wrist, stopping him, and gently pried it out of his hand, jotting his last words down as quickly as he could. 

He pressed the pad of paper back into Steve’s grip, holding it for a few beats longer than necessary, letting their touch linger as he looked deep into Steve’s eyes one last time, pleading with him to understand. 

I AM sorry. Talk later? Let me explain?

Steve pursed his lips, face softening slightly as he took the words in. 

Suddenly there was another flash on the window, Joyce signaling them again with her light. They needed to hurry. 

Eddie gave Steve a sad smile, wordlessly removing his headphones and handing them over along with the Walkman he unclipped from his belt. He turned, feeling safe with Steve at his back and looked up into the rafters—could almost picture Vecna hanging there by all his tentacle-like vines in the other dimension.  

“Okay asshole, I’m here—no music. You win. I give up.”

Eddie waited—thirty seconds, a minute—to see if anything would happen, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy. 

It was always going to be a long shot, making Vecna believe he was actually here surrendering. The enemy knew their plan, had seen it play out in different ways through Eddie’s own memories. If he was going to pull this off, he’d really have to sell it.

He took a deep breath and opened himself wide, letting the pain he’d been collecting like rain water fill his heart to spread throughout his chest, running through his veins like a raging river. All those things he’d tried to push down, and hold back, and sure, they’d spilled over once or twice over the course of days but now he let it flow freely. He thought about it all—the terror of seeing Chrissy succumb not once, not twice, but three times on his watch. He recalled his own deaths too, how he’d known on some level exactly what end he was sentencing himself to when he’d cut the rope, leaving Dustin safely behind as he went to lead the bats away. 

He remembered every moment of failure from the first loop to this one in vivid detail.

And Steve. 

He thought of Steve, and let Dustin’s voice fill his head again, weakly crying out, He’s gone.

Eddie sniffled, choking back tears as he took a few shaking steps forward, closer to where Vecna should be, and away from his heart, dragging his feet through the thick coating of dust on the old wood floor. 

“I thought about what you said, about this being my fate?” His voice, though hollow and ruined, was loud in the unnatural silence of the room. 

“You were right—” He shook his head, dropping his voice low, almost a whisper. “Of course you were right. I’m no hero. I can’t save anyone—I can’t even save myself.”

There was a shuffling behind him as Steve moved. Eddie didn't turn to see but he could feel the other boy getting closer and held out a hand to ward him off. The movement stopped immediately.

Eddie hung his head, listening, standing stock-still as seconds gave way to minutes, and still nothing. 

Panic began to set in. Their whole plan was hinging on this, it all fell apart if he didn’t get Vecna on the hook.

“Come on goddammit!” He shouted, kicking an old coffee can full of nails clear across the room with a loud clatter. “You offered to end my suffering and I want–I want out… whatever it takes. I just want it to be over!”

One deep breath.

Two. 

“What are you waiting for?! You want me to beg? I’m begging! Take me you motherfucker!”

Another sound, a creak and a footstep, the air behind him shifting. Eddie readied to wave Steve off again but the other boy started to speak before he could even lift his arm. 

“I knew it. I knew it shouldn’t be you.” Steve snarled. “You can’t even play bait right. Have you always been such a complete and utter failure, Eddie?”

Eddie knew better than to fall for it this time, and he knew Steve better than to think he’d ever say anything to him with that level of vitriol in his voice, no matter what he’d done.

The guy was good, though. Eddie had to give him that. Subtle, just like before he had no way of knowing exactly when it’d happened but he was in Vecna’s thrall now. 

It was time.

He backed away from the thing that had again stolen Steve's beautiful face and turned it into something twisted, slamming his eyes shut against the image, doing his best to conjure up the first good memory in his arsenal. 

He sat across from Wayne at the little two-seater table in the kitchen in the trailer—a room in a place that was so comfortable and familiar to him now, but on this day, his 12th birthday, still hadn’t quite felt like home yet. Wayne had to work that night, couldn't afford to take the time off, but did his best to make the day a special one for his nephew anyway. He’d woken up much earlier than usual and taken Eddie into town, so he could spend what few quarters he’d managed to scrounge up playing games at the arcade. Now they were back, about to dig into a small but decadent triple chocolate cake, Eddie’s favorite, after splitting a couple cans of SpaghettiOs for dinner—Eddie’s other favorite.

He didn’t expect to receive any gifts. 

It was already the best birthday he’d ever had, and his only wish when blowing out his single birthday candle had been that he get to stay with Wayne forever, and maybe return the favor someday—take care of Wayne when he was old and Eddie was grown. 

But though he hadn’t been expecting any presents, he’d be lying if he said that the guitar Wayne gave him that night wasn’t the best one he’d ever received. Before leaving for work that night Wayne showed him three chords—G, C, and D, and told him if he could master those he’d be able to play something like half the songs on the radio. 

Eddie nodded reverently, and Wayne chuckled, dropping a kiss on the top of his head before leaving for his shift. 

He practiced those damn chords until his fingers bled, and loved every minute of it. It was still his happiest birthday to date.  

The trailer faded away and suddenly he was in the backstage area of the Hawkins Middle School auditorium, waiting for his turn to go on at the annual talent show. 

The other two members of his band stood watching the other acts from the wings with wide eyes, but Eddie? He was transfixed by Chrissy Cunningham as she rehearsed, twirling her pink glittery batton with incredible precision, throwing it up high in the air, and catching it with ease each time.

Until the one time she didn’t, and the stick bounced off of her palm and landed right at his feet. Eddie smiled and quickly bent to pick it up, moving to hand it back but as she reached out began to twirl it between his fingers like it was a drumstick, a skill developed out of boredom and as a way to hone the kind of dexterity he needed in his hands to play the type of music he loved. 

She giggled, clapping at his display when he bowed and returned the tool of her trade. 

He liked making her laugh, he realized—just plain liked her full stop, actually.

They sat and talked as they waited their turns and Eddie discovered that Chrissy was kind, and as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. He found himself wishing they could be friends, as dumb an idea as that was. She was a cheerleader, a popular kid, top of the food chain, and he was already well on his way to earning the title of Freak. They could never be friends, save for these few stolen moments behind the big black curtain. 

Except Eddie knew better now. They would be friends someday, best friends if he had anything to say about it. For a moment he wished he could go back for real, tell that little boy and girl how they’ll save each other—how much they’ll come to mean to each other one day. 

The theater lights went out, throwing the backstage area into an abrupt twilight as the scene around him shifted and changed—no longer age-worn linoleum cracking under his sneakers, now his bare feet rested on soft carpet, the walls surrounding him covered in the most hideous plaid wallpaper.

It was dark, the room unlit save for a few slivers of moonlight peaking in between the blinds as he climbed into the bed where Steve already lay. It was a night from exactly one week ago, in the previous loop, the last one they’d spent together before dying. 

Steve pulled him close, wrapping him up in his arms, entwining their legs until Eddie didn’t know where he ended and Steve began. 

It all felt so real, and so good. Like coming home. 

Steve was warm and solid and when Eddie nuzzled into his neck he didn’t pull away, he leaned in, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s hair and pressing lips to it. 

It would have been easy to stay there in that memory as long as possible, but the fear of Vecna showing up and tainting it in some way was enough of a motivator to have Eddie wracking his brain for the next happy thought. 

He hadn’t really prepared for more than this, he wasn’t exactly a walking fount of good times, and it felt like he’d already been stuck in this mindscape, or whatever it was, for too long—but he tried. 

The only thing on his mind now was SteveSteveSteve, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when he blinked and found himself back behind Benny’s getting ready to head into the Upside Down, only to hear those two little words fall from Steve’s lips right behind him again. 

“Eddie, wait.”

He smiled to himself, waiting for the familiar touch of Steve’s hand on his elbow but it never came, instead there was a cool rattling breath on the back of his neck. 

Eddie whirled, gasping at the sight and scrambled backwards to get away from the vile creature that was now in front of him, much too close for comfort. Vecna, in his true form, a humanoid nightmare covered in taut sinewy flesh and raw meat.

His heart pounded and panic crawled up his throat like bile as he backed into the building, his hands slapping at the wall, searching for the gate that should be there. He just needed to get away, get enough distance between them so he could think, maybe come up with another memory to hide him. 

But then the wall was gone, something more like wet tree bark beneath his hands now. His vision swam, the light around him growing and changing, the sky no longer the blues and pinks of dusk—he was surrounded by a blood red haze. 

His fingers kept searching anyway until they brushed up against cold dead skin. He recoiled, screaming, and looked back to find the body of Fred Benson wrapped up in vines, and mounted like a trophy on a pole. 

This was not his memory, he’d never seen this place before, but needed only one guess to figure out where he was. No longer stuck in his own mind he must be in Vecna’s now, with no idea how to get out. 

A rushing sound filled the space between his ears, the rhythmic whooshing of blood as it pumped through his body, so loud inside his own head.

There was a thing out there that could help him, it was… it was right there on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t—

His vision narrowed, the world whiting out around him, tipping on its side and he felt himself falling—falling for much longer than it should have taken to hit the ground. 

He landed on his back, blinking hard and tried to sit up, but he was so tired. He’d been running—hiding from something. He was almost sure. 

A familiar sound began far off in the distance, he strained to hear it, tried to recognize it, but his own pulse was still so loud and distracting. 

A pair of legs in jeans and sneakers—moving, alive—a girl, came into view.

He shrank away from her, unsure.

“Eddie? You shouldn’t be here. It’s time for you to go.”

“I don’t—how—what?”

Oh. 

The girl was El, she was his friend. He couldn’t remember before, couldn't seem to think straight.

“El,” he breathed, as she helped him to stand, shaking his head to try and clear some of the fog. “I–I don’t feel so good.”

“He’s dying, Eleven.” Vecna’s deep rasping voice boomed nearby as he approached them. “You can’t even save one of your friends, yet you expect to stop me?”

He raised a long gnarled claw in Eddie’s direction but El stepped in front, mirroring him with her own hand raised, the force of their power like a shimmering heat in the air between them.

Suddenly the strange noise got louder, and it wasn’t just noise, Eddie could make out the vocals now, the beating of the drums, the thrashing of the guitar.

“You hear it, the music?” Eleven shouted to him as she continued to hold Vecna at bay. “That is Steve calling you back to him. Look for him, Eddie. Find the way out. You have to hurry.”

The more he concentrated on it the better he could hear the rhythm and pulse of Master of Puppets being pumped into this place, beckoning to him—Steve and Joyce too, shouting his name—and he felt a little more like himself.

“What about you?” Eddie asked.

“I’ve got this.” She said, never taking her eyes off her target. In the next instant she let out a primal scream, a fierce shriek unlike anything he’d ever heard before, and Vecna went flying up in the air, his arms seemingly pinned to his sides. 

Eddie cast his gaze around wildly, looking for anything out of place in this hellscape, and finally spotted a faint light on the horizon that had to be his portal. He ran. It was a long way off but he gave it everything he had, arms pumping, legs burning. 

He stumbled, woozy and lightheaded, but caught himself—kept going. 

As he got close he could see himself floating there in the attic, Steve clinging to his leg, reaching for his hand, and without a second thought hurled himself head first into the mirage.

-

Eddie took a deep shuddering breath.

It was dark.

He was cold.

He couldn't feel anything.

“Steve?” He sobbed.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Arms tightened around him and suddenly Eddie could feel again, everywhere Steve touched him at least, and something hot and wet that was dripping down his face. 

It was still dark.

“I can’t–I can’t see anything.”

Steve rocked him gently. “You’re safe. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

He tried to move, to touch back, but there was an awful grinding pain.

Eddie hissed. “My arm—”

“Don’t try to move, okay? I don’t–” Steve's chest shook, Eddie thought he might be crying. “I don’t know how badly you’re hurt yet–”

It all went quiet abruptly.

Eddie drifted in the dark. It was a lot like the place he went between loops. 

“Eddie? Eddie?!”

He came back to himself with Steve shaking him, screaming his name. He tried to respond but every effort felt like far too much. Maybe he was dying again. If so, at least this time it would be in Steve’s arms. 

There were far worse ways to go.  

-

Eddie woke up.

It was a first for him, at least in recent experience, to wake up from unconsciousness in a hospital like a normal person instead of falling back into his body in the past.

His head ached but it was a distant thing, thanks to good ol’ prescription painkillers no doubt.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, a little stunned that he could see at all, but it was blurry and unfocused. There was a shapeless form wearing Steve’s clothes asleep in a chair by his bed, what looked like Robin in another by the door. He wondered how long he’d been out, if it was the same night. He tried to raise his arm, to reach for Steve even though he was too far away. But the arm was too heavy in its cast.

He fell asleep before he could try again. 

When he roused next, it was to low voices arguing quietly nearby.

“You don’t know that.”

“Seems pretty fucking clear to me, Robin. I’m–I'm gonna go. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Steve–”

“Don’t! Just—call me if anything happens?”

“Okay.”

A door closed, heavy and final.

That didn’t sound good. 

Eddie burned to know what they were talking about but sleep once again sucked him under mid-thought.

-

When he woke for good the sun was shining in through the windows, and Wayne, Chrissy, Robin, and Dustin were all sitting around his bed. He could see again.

It was Wayne who first noticed the change, jumping up out of his chair to hover over him.

“Boy you ever scare me like that again I'll kill you myself, you hear me?” The man muttered as he leaned down to give him a hug.

Eddie chuckled hoarsely into his uncle's shoulder, and could have cried with how happy he was to see him and his familiar gray stubble, the smell of Marlboro Reds wafting off his jacket. “I missed you too, old man.”

“You-all keep an eye on him,” Wayne said to the small crowd as he headed for the room’s door. “I’ll go and tell the nurse you’re awake.” 

Like he was going to get up and run away. 

Eddie carefully pushed himself up into a sitting position with his one good arm, surprised to find he wasn’t feeling worse. 

“What happened?” He asked, now that they were alone.

“They got him!” Chrissy beamed. 

“Hopper said they burned what they could–” Dustin elaborated, swallowing thickly. “And chopped the rest up into little pieces after El destroyed his mind. It’s over, for real this time.” 

Eddie sagged in relief, sinking back into his pillow.

“Oh thank fuck. Do you think that means the rest of it’s over too, the loops I mean? I don’t think I can do it again, man.”

“Well, since we don’t know what caused you to start looping to begin with there’s no way to know for sure, but if the catalyst is you dying, and here you are very much alive even if you did give us quite the fucking scare you asshole!” Dustin swatted him in the shoulder above his cast.

“Hey! Watch the goods!”

“I would say odds are you're safe from having to go back again. As long as you don’t, y’know, die for a while.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Eddie grinned, hoping to draw a smile out of the kid, but he remained solemn and serious.

“Good.” Dustin said, flatly.

Eddie sighed. “Dustin, I–”

“We almost lost you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie wanted to say more, but voices could be heard making their way down the hall towards his room, and he needed to know what he was supposed to say to them.

“Listen, quick, before they come in.” Robin jumped in, grasping the situation just as he had. “The official story is that you were attacked and kidnapped by the same serial killer who murdered Fred and Patrick, the long lost son of Victor Creel. You managed to escape, and Joyce and Steve found you on the side of the road and brought you here. If anyone asks for details just tell them you don’t remember.”

The last word was barely out of her mouth when the door swung open, revealing Wayne along with a doctor and two nurses, who quickly went about examining him. 

He got lucky—very lucky. As bad as he’d looked when he was brought in, unconscious and pale and covered in blood, it all boiled down to a few bruises and a broken arm. The doctor’s had worried for his sight, since much of the blood had seemed to come from his eyes, but on closer examination they couldn’t find an actual wound, and he passed a vision test with flying colors.

They wanted to hold him one more night for observation, but that was it. Come the next day he’d be free to go home, with a follow-up appointment scheduled for 6 weeks from now to come back and have his cast removed. 

Still, throughout the course of the day everyone paid him a visit, with one notable exception.

Steve never showed. 

No one brought him up and Eddie was too afraid of the answer to question it. 

He’d asked if they could talk later, pleaded with Steve to let him explain—and supposed his absence now was answer enough. Clearly Steve had decided he wasn’t worth hearing out. 

Chapter 12

Special thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Reblogs are always appreciated, and if you want to be tagged just let me know! I'd be more than happy to do so 💜

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[astorytotellyourfriends]

Sorry for this but you’re my favourite writer and I just thought of this and had to share so I could get your thoughts! Hellcheer Wedding Singer au 😳

ANON NEVER APOLOGIZE I AM SO HONORED YOU CAME TO ME WITH THIS AND YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LOUD I SCREAMED WHEN I READ IT BECAUSE THE WEDDING SINGER IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE MOVIES OF ALL TIME!!!!!!

i too thought about this recently (idk why i haven't watched it in ages and i need to fix that asap) and TRULY why hasn't anyone done it yet!!! it's perfect for them!!!!

like i can absolutely see eddie and the cc boys doing wedding gigs (def under a different name tho i doubt corroded coffin would be popular with the wedding crowd) but still holding out hope for the dream of making it as a real band!!!

he meets chrissy at one of the last gigs he does before his own wedding and they hit it off, comparing notes about what they would and wouldn't do at their respective weddings (because she's engaged too, though she and jason haven't set a date yet). she makes him promise to sing at her wedding and eddie of course says yes but only if you promise to waitress at MY wedding (which gets a laugh out of chrissy and if eddie weren't an almost-married-man... he might've tried to make her laugh again).

but then he gets dumped by his longtime girlfriend, tammy (obviously), AT THE FUCKING ALTAR and eddie falls into a deep depression. he gives up on the gigs and music altogether because tammy basically told him he was never going to amount to anything if he kept being a wedding singer and she didn't sign up for this!

having witnessed eddie getting left at the altar and the impressive meltdown at his first (and last) gig post breakup, chrissy makes it her mission to try and cheer eddie up. it's probably (definitely) misguided, but she tells him that he has to return to music eventually because she and jason have finally set a date and he promised!!!

etc etc they become closer friends, eddie slowly realizes he's falling in love with chrissy and that jason's a huge fucking tool (and is cheating on her every chance he gets) but he can't tell her. he doesn't wanna break her heart! but of course chrissy's going through the same turmoil because she's absolutely falling for eddie too and realizing she's not in love with jason anymore but she can't just throw away her relationship, can she???

more drama etc etc eventually tammy comes crawling back and then there's miscommunication where tammy and chrissy meet and tammy introduces herself as eddie's fiancee and chrissy is heartbroken because she'd finally made the decision to tell eddie how she feels but instead she just runs right back and tells jason they should just get married NOW instead of waiting for their wedding.

and if i really wanted to go full ridiculous, i'd absolutely write the whole plane to vegas nonsense INCLUDING BILLY IDOL BEING ON THE SAME FLIGHT and eddie singing a song he wrote for chrissy over the plane intercom (CHRISSY THIS IS FOR YOU????) and then getting the girl AND securing a record deal bc that's just how things work in romcoms obviouslyyyy

anyway yes i am absolutely here for hellcheer in the wedding singer thank u for letting me ramble about it ilysm for this 🥰🥰🥰

[vitaegratis]

“Worried, and… probably a bit hurt. You confided in me, that wasn’t easy, but you did it. You trusted me, and for me to not do the same… you’re too polite to say it, or nudge, but it probably felt like I didn’t trust you. Or like I wasn’t ready to let you in, be that close to you.” After how long it had taken for them to share other forms of intimacy, it would have been a reasonable concern. “It was never that, Chrissy. Honestly, I trust you more than I trust myself. If I made you doubt that, I’m sorry, babe. I love you too.” So very much. Giving a small smirk at her hand squeeze, his resolve to show her just how much when they got back home later only hardened. “I know it’s okay to talk about them, and that I can, with you… I’m just… not used to it. I’m comfortable with you, I promise, and it’s not even an ‘I don’t want to overwhelm you’ thing. Not really. It’s just. When you spend so long keeping it all in, letting it out and actually confronting that can be… scary.”

Chrissy knew that. He knew she did. It was scary, but she had done it anyway. Which was pretty brave. Pretty impressive. Pretty attractive, if he was being honest. “As for Ronnie, I… yeah. I’m glad too. She was really the only friend I had that was with me that far back. Remember, Jeff, Gareth, and then… your age and younger. She had her own family baggage, lived with her grandma. Same the trailer park. People used to think we were siblings, honestly.” Eddie had tried to kiss her once when they were 13, only for her to shut him down - she didn’t like him, or anyone, like that. Was that something he should tell Chrissy? Would she find it reassuring that they were platonic? Did she need to be reassured, was it arrogant of him to wonder? Who wanted to hear about their boyfriend trying to kiss someone else when they were little? Maybe it was cute, but he felt it’d just be… weird. Bah. Overthinking. Off-topic. His mom. “I know you believe in that stuff, and I’m not even saying you’re wrong. Again, I trust you more than I trust myself.” He was a cynic, he knew it. Or, he had been. “…it’s not a stupid suggestion. It could help.” He would say it couldn’t hurt, but. Well, he knew it probably would. Didn’t mean it wouldn’t help though. Be therapeutic. If there was even a small, unlikely chance that his mom could hear him… why pass it up? Pausing in front of the nearest coffee shop, he gave a soft smirk as he looked up - much as Chrissy had done a few moments earlier “Miss you too. Every day.”

---☁︎｡⋆｡ Hearing Eddie admit that he shouldn't have kept her in the dark so long about his parents caused a squeeze in her chest. Biting her bottom lip, Chrissy gave a nod. "I had been worried, I won't lie," quietly admitted the blonde. It was the last thing she wanted to say while Eddie was finally being honest with her, but at the same time she did want to let him know. The blonde was tired to pretending to be okay with things and she knew that her boyfriend wouldn't want that for her, either. "But I love you, too. So very much." And she did. He wasn't blameless and neither was she, so Chrissy could stomach the hurt that this caused. "It's okay to talk about your, uhm, feelings. It doesn't make you weak or anything," she answered quietly. "I don't pity you if that's what you were worried about. But maybe it would do you some good to talk about her, and your dad." She perked up at the mention of Ronnie. Chrissy knew of her, and she remembered that her and Eddie were tight. Were.

--- Attention turned back to Eddie, saying, "I'm glad you had her during that time," before falling quiet again to listen. Nodding as he spoke and giving encouraging hand squeezes, Chrissy kept present with that he was saying. "Well," she sounded out as Eddie's talking seemed to wane, "I do believe in that stuff and it was a sign. I... Maybe you could try talking with her?" The suggestion sounded more like a question, like she was unsure of her own suggestion. "I mean. She's still here with you and speaking out loud to her might make her feel more present in your life? Its- I, uhm, know it's a stupid suggestion. But. It could help." It was accentuated with a small shrug as she fell quiet once more. She took one more chance. "I think your mom misses you."

[wroteclassicaly]

She’s Trouble

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: Tired of trailing behind, feeling like you don’t matter much, you decide that 86’ isn’t only going to be your bestfriend’s year.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Word count: 16,185

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of drug usage, blood, NSFW, smut, drinking, Eddie is angry and sad in this, masturbation, slight voyeurism, breeding kink, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, angry sex, creampie, angst, fighting, rough sex, Dom!Eddie, and MORE!

A/N: I started writing this based off the scene of Eddie smirking at the cheerleaders he lets by after his cafeteria speech. And, well… it’s spawned itself a new life and turned into a whole lot more than I planned. But so is the life of an author, am I right? ;) Eddie is a dick in this, Reader is a lot more vocal than I’ve written before. I wanted to do something a bit different and I hope this accomplishes my mission?

I wanna thank @littledemondani for helping me out of my brain fart on which direction to take this! Also, do check out her masterlist, which is pinned at the top of her blog (it won’t let me link it here). She’s an incredible author and a fellow Eddie Munson slut, and one of my longtime best-friends! ♥️

Side note: I’ve also shifted a few things in the timeline of the show, for obvious reasons. The whole Eddie/Chrissy thing doesn’t happen on the same night as in the series. Chrissy and the reader have a good interaction and Eddie is a dickhead, but his reasoning will be explained. Also, while the reader is wearing a bustier top, this is an all inclusive fic, where the reader can be anything you imagine! I believe anyone can wear anything that they choose to—regardless of their size, so don’t let that bit of the story deter your perception, as I’ve left it open-ended! ;)

Enjoy! I’ve got a lot coming up soon! Part twos of multiple fics, prompts, plus other goodies! <3 - Kristen

~*~

You watch the way that he tries to be cute and coy towards them, attempts to impress with a dramatic wave through of his hand. Short skirts, tight little tops, bouncing ponytails, and a shitload of generic gossip on their painted lips—they pass by, everything included but those damned pom poms. Apparently they are giddy at his little show of calling out every group but your own in the cafeteria. Your eyes roll so hard that you feel a protesting sting, ignoring it to stab your fork into whatever creation is wiggling on your lunch tray. All the guys—freshman to seniors, and you—the only girl since founding, and Hellfire Club’s treasurer/manager to Corroded Coffin—make up the outsider table.

This year, however, you’ve felt so fucking off base with this group and their antics that you’re getting exhausted pretending to care about their shit when they don’t respect you or yours. Dustin, Lucas, and Mike are always the sweetest to you, even with Lucas joining a sport, he’s still quick to always give you a smile and a nod whenever you pass him in the halls. They’re young, unlike Eddie and the older guys. You’re finally a senior this year, but still behind your bestfriend by a year in age. All this used to be okay, Eddie multiplying how much he repeats the grade, you trailing behind him like a lost puppy without any brain of her own, but now—it’s unbearably smothering.

And thus, it’s been building. You’re over bringing chips that are from your personal stash and using your gas to go buy smokes with your small work paycheck, or clean equipment for Eddie’s band, or stay up all night just to design campaign posters for Eddie, only for him to be so fucking stoned that he doesn’t even appreciate it, nor remember it.

“Fucking fake losers,” Jeff mutters.

“So fake,” Gareth agrees, both looking towards Eddie as he settles himself back down, wiggling his brows at you.

It’s an unsettling pressure that boils inside you, crackling, and as soon as you look into your best-friend’s brown doe eyes—it all comes apart. “You wanna talk about fake?” Your chest pumps a rush of adrenaline, helping careen the words off your tongue before you can stop them. Everyone’s attention snaps quicker than you’re prepared for, eyes wide and shocked. Sure, you’re vocal and sassy, but never outwardly angry. “The fact that all of you will condemn the basketball players, but would give up any of your seats at our table for one of the bitches in a skirt that they chase, if they popped their gum or batted an eyelash. You’d all be a bunch of drooling, little horndogs.” You can feel your heart racing with each pronunciation of a word, rising from your seat, knuckles white from gripping the edges of your yellow tray so hard.

You hear Dustin whisper a ‘whoa’, but your vocal vomit doesn’t stop.

“Frankly? I’m fucking sick of all this.” You pick the tray up and slam it down for good measure, unwrapping your messenger bag from around your seat, and you leave the table of gaping young men behind you, not even indulging yourself in Eddie’s bugged out, concerned stare.

You don’t even have time to throw your bag across your chest, when Jason Carver shouts out from behind you, “Damn, look at Munson’s slut go!”

It seems your group aren’t the only ones taking an interest in your outburst. Your breath is engorged in jagged pants of pitiful air, a fire coursing through you faster than you can handle, your skin singing, prickling with goosebumps. Your cheeks redden in humiliation, your feet swiveling and carrying you, fast and quick to their table, you throw your bag off, body like some damned slow motion track. Everyone notices Eddie’s antics, but you’ve never garnered any attention. It’s a surreal high.

Your combat boots click across the cement flooring, your hair like a dead weight across your back. Carver and his entire group are expectant, chairs scraping across to get out of your way. It’s all such a blur that you don’t even know your fist has collided with Jason’s face until you feel the pressure bite into your knuckles, a crunch beneath your force. He shrieks, his friends jumping to his aid, your stance shifting, ready to take anyone on. Your ears are bubbling with a murky static, applause in some direction, shouts in others.

Your name is being shouted from two different directions, the one you see stomping angrily towards you belonging to principal Higgins. He’s calling for help, shoving his finger in your face, motioning to your shirt. “This Hellfire Club does nothing but cause trouble!”

You snort, completely coming off your hinges, shaking the ends of your shirt, before stepping back and flinging it over your head, leaving you clad in your jeans and a leather bustier top no one could ever picture you owning. You’ve always kept your shit to a minimum to draw less attention, but you liked the support it provided your breasts with. You spin around, hands in the air, using the shirt as a lasso, tossing it at your old table. You begin to giggle, honestly wondering if you should visit the school nurse, but uncaring. Higgins is literally sputtering, making you snort, waving a hand. “I’m a slut, I’m trouble. Anyone have anything else to add? No? Yes?”

You bend back over to snatch your nap sack up, motioning to Higgins. “Lead the way to your office, Sir! Please fucking do.”

The pep in your step as your principal is angrily leading you from the masses is such a euphoric feeling, you’re sure you’ll never feel again in your life. You can taste the drama on your tongue’s tip. You don’t even spare your friends a glance, not wanting Eddie to have a morsel of satisfaction. This is your moment. Not as Eddie Munson’s best-friend, not as his groupie. As Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.

~*~

Eddie Munson has been clutching your discarded Hellfire shirt, doused in your perfume that is brimming his nostrils full, damn near trembling for the past twenty minutes that finish up lunch. He can’t move, that swelling between his legs keeping him glued to his seat, all the images of your fist soaring into Jason Carver’s face, ripping off your clothing in front of Higgins and the entire damned school. He went from concerned, angry at how you acted, to so fucking turned on that his stomach knotted up, sucking him to where he’s seated, his cock throbbing in his jeans. He’s never seen you like this.

The guys are silent, unsure what to say, how to even go about comprehending the you they just saw, that even Eddie himself has never heard of. He knows one thing for sure—okay—two. He has to find out if you’re okay and what’s going on.

~*~

You roll your eyes at the lovely note, signature of a three day suspension secured by Higgins at the bottom. Crumbling it up, you slide it into your back pocket, rifling through your pin tattered bag for a cigarette. You already know where you’re gonna go, and it sure as hell isn’t home. No one is there and no one is gonna care about your minor indecency. You can forge your mom’s signature, much like you do every good grade you bring home that she’s never around to see, or every comment from a teacher about how your folks are missing out.

It’s quiet at your house, your space. You parents more or less sleep there when they’re not gone on business. Pinching the filter, you cup Eddie’s stolen Zippo, that ashy hiss helping beckon that sweet bitter taste in past your lips. You don’t desire that home front solace right now, craving different scenery.

Maybe I’ll get lost…

You feel like Hawkins is your oyster, and you’re eager to explore on your own terms, by yourself. You’ve got your smokes, your pocket knife, and a pen and paper. That’s enough for you to make a decision.

Skull Rock it is.

~*~

One thing about Indiana is the ever predictable bite of hot weather that March brings. Spring is automatically Summer in the Midwest, and this is no different. Your leather top had stuck to your skin in an uncomfortable crunching press, making you eventually discard it, leaving you topless, your only accessories a chain with your birthstone pendant and a thicker silver chain, with a cheesy little guitar charm (a present from Eddie) nestled between your breasts. Your form is shaped against the rock behind your bare shoulder blades, a cool sensation that has you tilting your head back, stretching your neck, treetops breezing above you—tall and luscious. You smile softly, undoing the flap on your bag and seeking out your Walkman and sunglasses.

In moments your eyelids are fluttering closed, shielded from sun rays, your Walkman clicking in place, readying Heart’s Barracuda to nick your ears, coasting in welcomed caresses. It’s not thick heavy metal, but it’s you. And in the serenity of these woods, another cigarette you allow yourself—you begin to drift off in a galactic solitude that is solely your own. You’d learnt how to count beats, read sheet music, even sing a few notes from Eddie, so getting into your song’s groove isn’t hard for you, your fingers wrapping around your chain, tapping underneath the swell of your breast along with the chorus. You’re off the precipice and gone, demolished to the point you don’t hear the familiar footsteps, the sound of your name, or leaves and dirt crunching beneath white Reeboks, nor do you hear a throat-deep groan at his discovery.

~*~

Eddie and you always share this in synch kinda shit, which creeps a lot of people in your circle out. Eddie, however, welcomes it today. When he couldn’t find you after abandoning his lunch, spent what was left of the day attempting, only for Henderson to tell him he’d heard you’d been suspended for a few days—he made it his personal goal to find you. Your parents are gone so he knows the times you do and don’t like to be at home by yourself. And with the way you lashed out at everyone, you won’t go anywhere he has easy access to.

That leaves one place. Skull Rock.

~*~

The drive feels shorter to Eddie this time, but the walk longer. He has to shed himself of his denim and leather, tossing it over his shoulder and clambering up the path towards finding you, keeping your club tee in his back pocket. The more he walks, the more he wishes he brought a drink or his smokes, which remain on his dash. If he’s wrong and you’re not here, he isn’t sure if this is reality anymore. This day has been one big mindfuck.

Thankfully, as he hears a loud tone droning over the clearing, a soft hum, his heart patters in his chest, nostrils inhaling sharply. He rounds the corner’s pathway, already calling your name, his eyes widening, jaw unhinged, fists clenching at his sides. You’re reclining against the boulder’s curve, black shades perched over your eyes, hair draped across your neck, your boot clad ankle crossed over the other, a cigarette perched into your puckering pair of lips, your layered chains swaying, slumbering against your skin, and fuck—your tits, Eddie winces, gripping himself to adjust—frozen.

He can’t not notice how your nipples are reacting to the air. He can’t not detail your shape, how your waist is formed, zeroing in on the baby bat you’d gotten to match his larger ones, inked into your ribcage, and he certainly isn’t forgetting your jeans that are settled over your hips. His eyes glaze over, heat prodding his flesh, shrouding him a veil of desire and raw ache. You don’t notice him, calls of your name falling on mainstream rock’s ears. He doesn’t think approaching you is smart, like a cat and mouse, your behavior for once—unpredictable.

Has Eddie just not been paying attention to you that much lately?

Suddenly, when he’s debating a cowardly retreat, baiting his internal monologue for an excuse, your audible gasp is heard, his name crushed between your gritted teeth.

Fuck.

~*~

In all of his glory—stands your best-friend. He’s balling and un-balling his fists, eyes darting rapidly, tongue sucking against his teeth, feet ready to carry him far away. And the more he avoids your stare, the angrier you get. So what, you’re not good enough to look at because your breasts are out? Modesty to a back burner, you take your crossed arms off your chest, scraping your smoke out on the rock, pushing your glasses into a perch upon your head, body facing Eddie as you stand.

I dare you.

Your eyes complicate a challenge—craving him in your proximity, and hating his grunge blanketed sight. Eddie’s neck is a really pretty thing when he tenses, his jugular agitated against a harsh gulp of air. He answers you by meeting you in the clearing, palms sweaty, scrubbing over his back pockets. It’s a cool damned drink of water, as if you’ve been without, making thee Eddie Munson squirm. But he’s still your best-friend, and you are half naked.

Covering yourself back up so he will look you in the eye, you tuck your arms into a push beneath your sternum, forearms shielding your nipples. It’ll have to do.

“Eddie, what the fuck are you doing here?” You snap before he can voice a concern or a question.

Tethered to deep breathing techniques, Eddie is insulted, and is biting back in his acidic response. “After your own personal talent show antics at school, I was worried about you. Excuse-the-fuck-outta-me, Y/N.”

A bitter laugh comes from you. “Oh, you’re focused enough on my shit to actually be worried about me? How kind of you, Edward Munson.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Eddie is raising his voice, sizzling in a cautious rage. He’s usually happy-go-lucky with you, but you’re pushing these fucking buttons he isn’t aware he’s been hiding.

“You really need a list of reasons? Wait,” you say, moving to circle him, pinching your thumb between your teeth, “you’re probably, completely oblivious, because I’m just Y/N. I’m not your club, not your band, not one of your groupies that flounce around for an ounce from you, then leave your ass for their jock boyfriends.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raises a hand, rings clattering together. “When the fuck did all this start, Y/N?”

Your arms fall back at your sides with a loud ‘thump’. The heating has settled, your high wearing off, truth remaining as to why you’ve been upset in the first place. A caverning hurt carves its place into your chest, igniting an anguish that drowns you. You’re defeated. “It started when my best-friend forgot that I’m my own person and not his servant. Or maybe it began when my person was so stoned that he barely acknowledged a test I fucking flunked to stay up and make his campaign posters—which, may I add—he also gave zero fucks about-“

“So all this is because I didn’t kiss the very ground you walk on for some posters that you practically begged me to make, and wow—your A+ average went to an A. Curse me into the deepest depths of hell, please.” His bracelet slides down his wrist as he palms his heart.

Maybe you’re not the only one who is changing. Eddie hasn’t ever disregarded you in such a crude manner. Your tongue is practically salivating in need to layer on biting and cruel words, things you won’t be able to come back from. You remain silent, mulling over what to say, glaring, docked, stinging prickles of tears. It’s an elating elevation when the words do come. “I’m your best-friend, Eddie. Not your little groupie. I’m tired of you preaching about conformity, when all I do is conform to you. You don’t ever let me pick music, you always take for granted I’ll give you and the guys rides when your van isn’t working, despite if I might have something to do that doesn’t involve an all male ensemble. I spend my money to buy you cigarettes and snacks for the meetings. I manage gigs, I clean your band’s equipment.”

Eddie sniffs, looking pointedly at you, doe eyes dark and growing increasingly fed up. “Didn’t know you were keeping a tally, Y/N.”

“That’s… That’s all you’re taking from everything I just said to you, Eddie?” You can’t keep that hurt out of your tone this time.

Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms, coldly spitting out, “Seems to me like you’re sick of me. And that’s not my problem, that’s yours.”

Your head is swimming in turmoil, all your acting out and emotions swirling into a mindfuck. He doesn’t care. You’re standing here finally pouring your entire soul out in heaps and your person is pouring gasoline on the pieces, dangling a match.

“I’ve never kept a tally, Eddie. I do these things because they make you happy, and that makes me happy, but it fucking sucks when you don’t appreciate them or care about anything in my life, either.”

“That’s what you really think, Y/N?” There’s a flatline in how he’s speaking to you.

“No,” you murmur, “it’s what I know.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding. He kicks at the ground with the toe of his shoe, brows raising. “Breaking Jason Carver’s nose and my cold, dead heart.” He splays a hand across his chest. Those rings, which are always a comfort to you, reflecting off the sunlight, dripping in judgement.

Your trembling wavers, crackling sentence structure falling apart. “Eddie. Don’t.”

“No. Fuck you, Y/N. Seriously, fuck you!” He shouts, snapping a finger in your direction.

Your hands rub up and down your goosebump soaked skin, finalizing what you need to do. Heaving in a deep breath, a sentence escapes your lips. And you pray, pray Eddie will heed this warning and value what you have enough to understand, to work it out. “Maybe it’s time to fess up to the fact that 86’ needs to be a bigger year for us both.”

Mind reader. A power you’ve never wanted more than in this moment as you claw at the cusp of your best-friend’s reaction. Outwardly, Eddie shifts, Adam’s apple bobbing, thumb swiping underneath his nose. Your mouth waters, throat reflexes threatening a fountain of vomit. And Eddie takes your warning, slaying through it, every bit of ground beneath your boots threatening to cave in.

“You’re right. Hell, Carver is right. You do act like my slut. And you have every right to change it, because it’s only holding us both back. And it probably has been for a long time.”

Kicking you would’ve hurt less. You’re unable to see Eddie’s form longer, muddled to a watery silhouette, your brave bravado dissipating. You won’t beg him. You’re nothing to him anymore, he’s just confirmed. You try not to think about the first time he taught you how to dance before your first snowball, or how you both snuck Jim Hopper’s cigarettes when you’d get in trouble at school and be sent to see him for minor misdemeanors, or Eddie’s pride when he managed to get you on stage to sing one song with the band, rubbing circles on your back the whole time you both sang to a trio of drunks, or splitting beers on his van’s roof and nearly breaking limbs when it started raining and you had to climb down, how he taught you to drive in the fancy neighborhood and you knocked over the mayor’s mailbox, when you watched him buy his ‘sweetheart’, tears in his eyes at a possession so gorgeous and all his own, his hands gentle as they held you the nights you cried from one stupid thing that felt massive to you, when he was your person and you were his.

Your wet, quivering breaths are what you hear. Birds chirping, wind rustling, even Eddie’s heavy breathing drowned out. It takes what feels like eternity, before Eddie is slashing the quiet, guarded and stoic. “You need to put a fucking shirt on.”

Your jeans are covered in tear drops from a bowed head, fingers shaking hard enough that your knuckles roll into a crack at the motions. You wipe your tears in time to see Eddie hold out your Hellfire shirt—second edition—his being the first. His reverie breaks briefly, and you think… maybe. It’s gone in those brown eyes that you can no longer read or recognize. Filled with loathing and disgust at you, his last words imprinting on your psyche, a physical recoil.

“On second thought. You won’t be needing this anymore.” Eddie makes his way around you and finds his lighter atop your bag, flicking a flame to life and nudging it at the end of your shirt. It catches quick, burns fast, like every fiber of friendship with Eddie Munson.

Eddie tosses the tattered, charred remains to the forrest floor, pocketing his lighter, walking away from you and out of your life.

~*~

He can’t stay any longer and watch you fall apart, not when he’s running away from his cowardice. And he does, run. He moves and clambers, stumbles until he’s from you and the cries that he hears pour off your lips. His chest is thumping sporadically, pulse in his blurry vision. His five fingers catch a tree, slamming, splintering, a sob breaking free of his tear soaked lips.

Eddie Munson forces himself to remember how unsure you looked in your dress when he held you around your waist, never feeling more himself in his entire life than he did with you— at thirteen—during some cheesy school dance, how you entertained his tunes so he could teach you the counting method he uses for his music to move your feet to the beat, all your encouragement every time he hit a new note, or your midnight phone calls to ask what he’d like on his posters, your body trusting him to keep you safe on those nights when everything became too much for you in your life, but you had tried to hide it, or when you both snuck in to see Carrie when you were pre-teens and you couldn’t sleep without him, so he made a makeshift mattress next to your bed for a month, about that time you were so tired from an all nighter that he had walked into his room and found you curled up in his bed, using his vest as a makeshift pillow, your nagging him to study more, because he’s always capable of anything he sets his mind to, and those cookies—the only thing you can bake without having to call for Hawkins fire department—a container you’d brought for him and his Uncle, still sitting on his kitchen counter.

He was your person and you were his. And now? You’re gone. Eddie runs away. He keeps running, leaving you to your own miserable anguish, drowning in his own, getting himself in his rust bucket and going back to his trailer to get completely fucked outta his not-so-right mind.

~*~

By the time your suspension is over and you can no longer barricade yourself into your room and finish off another bottle from your dad’s liquor cabinet—it’s sheer dread. You’re not only the freak who broke Hawkins Highschool’s Prom King’s nose, but you’re the freak without anyone by your side—a true and thorough outsider. As you stand outside your school, nails pinching into already weakened threads dedicated to your bag’s strap, you’re really regretting those couple of drinks this morning and how you’d poured more vodka into a flask to take your Tylenol with. Hell, it’s not like you can get a fix from the school dealer anymore, is it?

Those damned double doors are louder, a jolt to your already throbbing headache, fluorescent lights sparkling in your retinas through your shades that cover a nursing hangover and distraught, red and puffy eyes from a three day sob fest. Each step your boots make sounds like you’re walking to your death, your outfit—sans any Hellfire related attire—is all yours. Your two chains limited to one, Eddie’s gift waiting in a cardboard box you’d half-assed assembled, and tossed in random shit he’d given you. The deeper you get into every hallway, making simple turns you know like the back of your hand, your nausea grows as to what might be awaiting around each corner. Or who. It’s a short lived relief upon arrival at your locker.

You pinch your shades off, raw eyes protesting the moment fresh tears staple your skin in brushes. In red letters, diagonally capitalized across your door contains what you haven’t wanted to face since it happened.

The freak got dumped

You choke on your salvia, throat wet and enduring a suffocation strong enough to have you gagging on the piece of toast and water you’d forced your famished form to consume this morning. You barely make it into the toilets before double over and expelling everything, diaphragm on fire, bones vibrating through tosses. Hair dangling in your face, plastered to your mouth, you sniffle and tremble, vision blurring. You ponder getting yourself fucking expelled, but you made this whole ordeal about it being your year. If you retreat now, what will that do? Mustering all your strength, your courage, you flush your bile, clean off your mouth and face, pop a mint, take a swig out of your flask, and make your way to your first class.

~*~

By the ever popular lunch time, you have managed to clean your locker and pinpoint the culprit (an ashamed that a girl broke his nose, Jason Carver), but neither of you speak on it. You keep your head down, you focus on your school work, you take your Tylenol, and you sip on your vodka. Enough to keep an edge off, but not enough to send you down a despairing hole filled with regret and torment. You know you’re being stared at as soon as you hit the line to get your tray. It’s fake smiles and refusal to acknowledge it that gets you in search of an aisle, and hopefully out of sight. You aren’t so lucky…

“Hey, Y/N! Over here!” You hear an all too cheery voice belonging to Dustin Henderson. It halts you in your tracks, a wince causing a physical recoil.

It’s not his fault you and Eddie no longer have anything resembling a relationship, and he apparently has not told them, and they’ve not seen Jason Carver’s masterpiece.

Good.

What isn’t good is that Eddie is very much at your old table and you know it’s unavoidable. You wished you had borrowed some concealer for your under eyes, but it’s too late. There’s a grand staircase cloaked in invisibility beneath your feet, your stomach knotting in crushing vices, your cheeks stained with red. You walk to your former friend group, trying like hell not to side eye Eddie Munson. Keeping a steady focal point without blinking against your scratchy lower lids is damn near impossible. And guys are going to be guys—much to your chagrin. Gareth is drawing further attention where nothing needs to be, popping off with a, “Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

“A week long bender,” Jeff chimes in.

Biting the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you shrug a shoulder. Better them having knowledge of your binge drinking celebration than knowing about how messed up you are.

Don’t look at Eddie. Is your mantra for today.

He, on the other two hands, is not prioritizing that same aspect.

“So what if I did? I know of about ten girls who can drink your asses under the table, myself included.” You smirk, gripping your tray’s edge.

“Been holding back on us?” Gareth is grinning from ear to ear. It eases your shouldered weight tremendously, breaking tension in your table’s ranks.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” Mike Wheeler interrupts, his hands flipping towards a desired target, one that you wish you could keep pretending you never knew.

Fuck it.

You really crave for some divine intervention to help you, because meeting those chocolate brown eyes that are distraught, angry, and rimmed red—your heart constricts to painful blows, windpipes crushed beyond speaking capabilities. Eddie’s been somewhere off planet earth with that kinda high, you remember seeing his demeanor that way only a handful of times, including this one. Maybe he does care? No, doesn’t matter, don’t go there. It’s over and done.

Still, that idiotic, massively moronic part that Eddie owns of you—it’s billowing hope. Eddie Munson dashes it in seconds flat.

“No.”

You glance away, jaw twitching to control an automatic quiver. Dustin is laughing it off as a joke, someone else asking why. Eddie reclines his legs in your empty chair, loud enough to get your attention back. He wants me to see.

“No traitors.” It’s a simplistic answer, aggressive, no room to argue.

Ever-the-curious-freshmen, Dustin and Mike peg their leader for questions. You halt it, tone breaking apart, fingers tucking into your shirtsleeve as you balance your lunch on one hand and wipe across raw flesh to clean fresh tears from your eyeline. That’s when Eddie does look away.

Coward.

“It’s okay, guys.” Is what you say.

“What’s going on?” Gareth asks.

“I won’t be around meetings or practices anymore, but I’m still here if anyone needs anything, okay? You know where my locker is, and where I live.” You pat yourself on the back for that robotic but truthful statement.

“Unless you’re sick of everyone else too…” His deep voice rumbles.

Like a deer in headlights— you’re frozen, a blinding rage of hurt and red hot anger pouring over you in a storm. You explode. Picking up the first thing in your sight, which happens to be on your plate—a glob of some chocolate goop (possibly a brownie)—it’s slung directly at your former best-friend’s crisp white Hellfire shirt. Your second cafeteria incident that, yet again, everyone notices. Eddie yelps, shouting out your name in brisk spits.

You further it, abandoning your food in a repeat of days ago, floating to his side and shoving him back two steps. Eddie stops his rapid shirt swipes and immediately presses his form into yours, chests smashed, food squishing through your top. His hair is frazzled from the humidity, his toffee colored irises slowly polishing into a thick black gloss of dilated pupils. He sucks his tongue against his teeth, swaying into you, not touching you with those hands, an air about him that is beginning to swarm your initial reaction and bend it over, fucking it into the next decade. He’s taller than you remember, but you latch onto your own, tasting that cigarette soaked breath, lips hovering over his, hot tears matting your lashes.

Whether it’s regarding his inability to respond to your reasoning for this whole situation, his lack of expression, your self-disappointment for something roused inside you at his huffing proximity, you crown him with a title off a jagged voice box, damp in her sorrows, just as Dustin steps between you two, gently prying. “You’re a fucking coward, Eddie Munson.”

Teachers are starting to flock in, and you shake your head, hand over your eyes briefly, before sprinting in strides from the room in search of a place to collapse.

~*~

If you had told yourself at the beginning of the school year that you’d be in a camaraderie with the girl’s bathroom—you would have laughed. And if your mind had convinced you otherwise, you’d have expected Eddie to be right beside you, arm around your shoulders, sharing his lunch, making stupid jokes, coming up with lame ideas to make you feel better, but in that endearing Eddie Munson kinda way. You let out a soft cry, giving up on that stinging beneath your lids. You’re a hot mess and the whole building probably knows how alone you really are now. When the outcasts cast you out, where else can you go?

Clenching onto the sides of the ceramic sink, bag slipping off your shoulder and onto the floor, you keep your head bowed between your shoulder blades, not noticing someone come in and approach you, a gentle set of fingers laying upon your shoulder. Through foggy vision you can make out the green colors of her uniform and her perfectly straight ponytail, her face seemingly concerned. Your laugh is exhaustion on steroids, expression bombarded with emotion. “Okay, what the fuck is next? A girl craves some independence and the whole school turns against her. Let me guess, your boyfriend sent you to get even? Why don’t I make it easy for you and you can call your friends in here, and… and—“

Great.

Your lungs start to burn, your ribcage pounding with an erratic heartbeat, throat feeling like it’s been dusted with a thick blanket of ash. You’re panicking in front of Chrissy Cunningham. That alone has you feeling more pathetic than ever before in your life, and it worsens your heaving sobs—broken and unguarded. Chrissy’s eyes are drinking you in, irises glossing over with tears of her own. She grasps your other shoulder and squeezes, not releasing her hold on you, her soft voice strong when she speaks, but gentle enough between the expanse of your shared airspace.

“One, two, three, four. Okay, now deep breath in, and release it for me, Y/N.” She’s actually calming you, keeping you steady on your feet, which feel as if they’re sinking into the flooring below like led weights.

“Chrissy…” You aren’t sure how to articulate, still alarmed and attempting to breathe with her.

“I’m right here. Just keep breathing and counting with me.” And you do. And that’s when it hits you.

She has experience with this mind numbing panic too. That otherworldly anxiety. You feel a connective pull towards the cheerleader—seeing—not this persona you’d imagined, but her calming features, her easy going manner towards you, how she lets you find your lifeline, but also lends you her own in case you need it. When your breathing slows, she gives you a look, a silent communication of question. You may be able to breathe a little easier now, but it doesn’t stop the weight of your situation from crashing down and demolishing what’s left of you.

“Can I… I’m gonna hug you, is that okay?” At this point, if she’s going to put a sign on your back you don’t care. You need the human connection, the comfort. You agree and your schoolmate takes you into a light grip, but folds her arms around you and lets you bury your cheek against her perfumed sweater.

You both stand in the embrace, no trace of awkwardness, a sense of kinship and knowing. It’s when you pull back that hint of a questionable concern with her, wiping your sore eyes with a hiss. She notices.

“Are you here because of Jason? I just need to know.”

“Jason was a dick, Y/N.” Her language shocks you, having only heard her be proper before.

You laugh, your first genuine giggle in days. It’s contagious, as she joins in, hip jutting against the sink. “No, I’m here on my own terms. I promise. I saw what happened with your friends…”

“Yeah, I can imagine how everyone must be amused right now.” You bite your lip, facing away.

Chrissy gives you a saddened smile, but attempts to reassure. “I know this is gonna sound incredibly lame coming from me, but you’re stronger than all this, Y/N. The way you’ve stood up for yourself these past several days… I admire it.”

You frown deeply, wondering if this is a trick, because no way is Chrissy Cunningham admiring someone like you.

“You admire a loser that can’t even manage her own newfound independence?”

“No,” she says with a pause, looking down at her French tip manicure, before facing your curious gaze once more. “I admire your ability to stand up for yourself, despite what everyone is saying or doing to you. It’s a good quality to have, one that many of us are afraid of, you know?”

There’s this hollow pain in her eyes and your continued recognition has you pulling her in for another hug—this time for her benefit, rather than yours.

“Looks like we’ve fallen into the cliché trap, Cunningham.” You grin, pulling back.

Chrissy tilts her head, curious. “What do you mean?”

“A freak and a cheerleader thinking the same as what their peers think, and getting each other totally wrong.”

Her sweet eyes light up, her head nodding. “That’s exactly it.”

You share a knowing smile, a newfound bond forming. Chrissy situates her small shoulder bag, pulling out a compact and tugging you by your sleeve. “C’mhere. Let me fix that.”

She takes a gentle hand, not rushing as she speckles your sore under eyes with her own stash of makeup. After she blends it with soft fingertips, she snaps the lid closed and places it back in her bag, turning you to the bathroom mirror, brushing some of your hair through, giving your back a rub. “Is that any better, Y/N?”

Your circles are mostly covered, puffiness disguised enough where you won’t be embarrassed. You look and feel much better, and you’re overwhelmed with gratitude for the blonde at your side. You incline yourself into a swivel, leaning in her direction. “Chrissy Cunningham, I think you’re one of the sweetest people I now kinda, sort of know.”

Her giggle is infectious, and she gives you another squeeze. You drop down to swoop your messenger bag into your arms, grabbing out a your notebook and a pen, scribbling your home phone on it, hesitating, before handing it over. “If you ever need to talk to someone about all the bullshit, whatever it is, consider me your new confidant.”

She holds the simple sheet paper as if it’s another lifeline and you’ve just given her a treasure. Going back into her own bag, she has a cute little pink embroidered stationary paper that she jots her number on, and uses a smiley face to dot the i in Chrissy. Seconds later, her friends and a group of other girls burst into the bathroom, gossip on their lips. You and Chrissy flash each other a secret smile, and you make another hasty retreat.

~*~

Eddie had to hear a bunch of shit from the guys, overly bearing questions sounded off by Henderson and Wheeler. The eventual revealing by a passerby group of cheerleaders about your specially decorated locker, had surprised him too. As if there’s not already a weighted dagger wedged into his ribcage, one interlocking into his heart muscle—he lost control with his bitter mouth again, and it fueled your temper. But deep down, deeper into those subconscious recesses, you both felt that ignition start, a kind of coercing heat that is waging an internal war in Eddie’s head. His sole reason for blocking you out and refusing to talk about anything with you in the woods.

Eddie Munson is in love with you. Eddie Munson needs to fuck you.

It’s something he’s always done—built walls, got high, stayed drunk, coped with humor, hid behind his guitar or his campaigns. And without his right hand woman, he feels naked, too vulnerable to all the bullshit he’s tried to keep out. And your absence has become a set course for his weakening concentration on anything that isn’t you. His ultimate warrior princess is also his Achilles heel. Your feelings in wanting to branch out, they scare Eddie.

His brain is flipping logic into thinking you are seeing what everyone else sees in him: freak, failure, piece of shit, a nobody, a criminal. He pushed you out before he could pull you back in—easy, abrupt. And it’s not just changing him—no—he could smell your vodka soaked breath across the table, see your eyes swollen and glazed—absent. For the first time in years you weren’t wearing your limited edition shirt (thanks to him), and Eddie isn’t sure why he expected you to still have his chain around your neck. It fucking hurts.

As the room slowly falls back into their daily routine, Eddie loses his appetite and leaves his herd behind, urgent to get the fuck outta this building, out of Hawkins. Hell, maybe even the country. Like you, however, Eddie Munson’s retreat isn’t one that is unscathed. In his urgency, he smacks straight into you, stumbling over his own clumsy ass feet, gripping your forearms to keep you both steady. He’s processed your scent before he even takes in your beautiful features.

Fuck…

You look less like you’ve been partying all weekend, but Eddie knows better. Your pupils are dilated to the bright overhead lights of the hallways, making your sclera more visible. It’s bloodshot red, lower lids swollen and tinged a rough crimson beneath the fresh makeup that Eddie now sees. He swallows and looks away, but he doesn’t let you go. His grip isn’t harsh, it’s simply what it’s always been with you two. Easy and sturdy, safe.

You’re the first to downcast your gaze, focusing more on your shoe wear than on Eddie. It kills him. Even through these notions, this fear, whatever anger you’re both harboring, it’s as if this whole damned school and everyone passing you two are mere bodies, Eddie Munson and Y/N Y/L/N floating, tethered. His stomach churns its lunch contents, teeth clenching tightly. You make a brisk dart off, but Eddie attempts to catch you, instead tugging too hard on your shoulder strap, causing your bag to dump and spread out its contents at his sneaker clad feet.

Eddie’s eyes are quick to see it before you realize. Shining underneath hallway lights, scattered amongst notebooks and pens, is a small flask. His brows perch, he crouches first, scooping it away from your jutting hands. Gareth’s words rewind and play on repeat in his head.

“Damn, Y/N lookin’ like she went on a bender.”

The way his heart rate spikes, hostilely spitting that acid all over his lungs, battering his throat muscles with a pummeling storm. He’s already sure what he’ll smell if he presses the lid to his nostrils, but Eddie has to feed his anxious curiosity, unscrewing the cap with nervous hands, sniffing, shrugging off your grabs. It burns his mouth from its strength, his distraction giving you enough leeway to wrap your hands over his fingers and pull. Eddie locks your digits within his own, second thoughts gone. Against everything inside him he is getting angrier by the second, the anger masking itself, easier than being petrified and scared in front of you.

And Eddie is scared. Is he really so fucking stupid to think you weren’t at all affected by any of this?

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Your fingers sliding through his own, flood him, prickling every vein running beneath his skin, cutting off his blood flow—scorching.

~*~

Having Eddie’s hands on you again, his body so close, despite your shame at his discovery, it’s a feeling that comes more natural than breathing. You avoid his question, feeble grasping docked.

“Why do you have a flask full of fucking vodka?”

“Will you keep your voice down!” You hiss the words, finally breaking off him and retrieving the rest of your items on the scuffed up floor, and securing them back into your bag, Eddie holding back your liquor.

“Did you drive to school drinking this crap? Tell me you didn’t, Y/N, cause’ I swear to god—“

You chortle, a humorless boom smacking across your chest.

“Eddie, this faux best-friend act is getting old. Your on and off switch is enough to drive anyone to drastic measures. But don’t flatter yourself into thinking I’d be an idiot and drive drunk. Not even for you.”

His irises that are glossy with concern, they cave to dilating pupils, an animalistic rage priming them. “Oh, you have got to be the most clueless bitch alive, Y/N.” He steps towards you, frame towering slightly. You’re not afraid, never fearing if he’ll do something, because that is not Eddie, no matter what. But, you are very much dripping with rage at his words.

He pockets your flask in his left back pocket, rings clinking against it as he pats it for good measure. You try to dive around him, beneath his arm, but he swoops in on his own, using that strength for his slender frame, literally scooping you into a half bring-away, only discarding you back onto your feet once you’re both outside. You try to shove at him, palms resting on his stained club shirt. The bell has rang to signal your free period, but you don’t give two fucks, giving up and being the one to leave.

“Who’s the coward now, huh? You’re gonna walk away from me when I call you on your shit, Y/N?”

You spin on your heel, dirt and gravel specks crunched beneath your step. “I thought I was a clueless bitch, Eddie? A traitor? Or, your slut.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Guilt briefly flickers across his features, but he shuts it down tenfold. “Just because we’re fighting doesn’t mean I want you to destroy your fucking liver or your life. Jesus Christ, you really think I’m that big of an asshole?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore!” You fling your hands into the air. “One minute we’re at each other’s throats, the next you’re up my ass. I don’t know what to do here, Eddie.”

“Thought you craved some individuality and independence.” Though there’s meant to be flare behind the words, Eddie’s tone has splintered across each word, voice breaking apart. Your guts sink into your ass, as does a particularly pointed swallow that stabs at your jugular.

“Didn’t say I wanted to be completely independent from my best-friend.” Your own response is gentle, voice soaked with impending emotion.

Fuck. Stupid fucking tears burning again. Not right now.

Eddie’s attention snaps back on you, proximity closing in. His jaw clenches, he moves it from side to side with a closed mouth, sniffing, whistling air through a wet breath. “Feels like you’re leavin’ me and I can’t do anything to stop it…”

It makes sense suddenly. A catapult of truth slamming right into your chest, spreading throughout your body.

He thinks I’m leaving him. That I want to leave him.

As if the last seventy two hours haven’t happened, better yet, as if they haven’t mattered in the grand scheme of things—you’re the one that meets Eddie, reaching to push that curly hair from his eyes, his head downcast and posture sullen. His brown eyes are brimmed with tears that spill over his lash line, a permanent frown creased between his brows, mouth red and spit slick. Those freckles on his nose are suddenly very prominent to you. You’ve never seen Eddie Munson this vulnerable. Your heart shatters, the ache so physically strong that you have to remain close to him to hold on and find that strength again.

How could you have gotten this so monumentally wrong? Maybe if you’d have expressed what you meant more instead of feeding off Eddie’s anger. His communication and yours both need nurturing, but your sudden shift in mood must’ve made him feel like you wanted to abandon him, not just do things for yourself. He may not realize that yet, but you do. And it fucking sucks.

“Eddie. I’m sorry.” It’s all you can say in the seconds that your heart heaves into your throat.

He shakes that shaggy mane. “Don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, especially you.” He backs away from you and you see his entire expression crumble, tears spilling onto his cheeks.

That pain drowns your throat, seeing him cry because of your lack of explanation and mutual avoidance. You chase after him, running around to block his view, unable to let him go, gripping onto his waist beneath his jacket to keep him planted. Another familiarity. He tenses beneath your touch before relaxing.

“Eddie, will you please listen to me? I think I know what’s going on now.”

“And look who is the one flipping her emotions this time.”

“Because, I… Eddie, I—“

“What lame ass line do you want me to buy, Y/N? You think I’m not used to worthless promises or idiotic reassurances? Yeah, good.” His sentence is fragmented, voice rough and breaking apart on each word. “You know I still care about you, but I don’t need you to lie to me, you don’t owe me a damn thing, I promise you—“

You press a finger to his quivering lips, halting him. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a pause in the universe, your legs heavy, fingertip stroking along the plumpness of your best-friend’s full, lower lip. Eddie’s chest is moving up and down swiftly, tongue against his teeth, that warning look. You fail to heed it and Eddie’s hands tremble at his sides before he gives up and cups the sides of your face, bringing your foreheads together. His lips part to speak, your finger still on them. “Think we’re in trouble here.”

You can do nothing but nod as his declaring statement, inclining your head further, nose nudging his own. It doesn’t feel as if you’re standing any longer, every mean thing that Eddie has said, every disproportionate attempt of yours to communicate—obliterate, shrouding you both in the process. His breath is hot as his mouth opens and he sucks your finger inside, tongue licking its tip, biting the digit between those milky white teeth. It sends that throbbing nudge, snapping between your thighs, making you arch into your best-friend. You whisper his name and his fingers move along your jaw, across your ear, sliding through your hair and rubbing a pathway to your necks’ nape, sending an army of goosebumps across your flesh, the coolness of his rings stimulating your skin.

“Yeah, you feelin’ it too?” Your lids flutter closed, Eddie using his thumb pad to brush the corners of your lashes, signally for you to open them. “Didn’t say you could stop looking at me, did I, sweetheart?”

You grind against him, unable to stop. Your last several days, everything between you both is on hold, these buried urges able to finally win out. This dominant side of Eddie Munson has you an inward and outwardly quickening pile of mush and hormones, of fucking need. Eddie about loses his cool when you obey him, pupils blown, mouth looking parched and in need of his kisses. He leans, walls starting to slip, resolve crumbling, his pouting mood long gone.

Years of built up tension and confusion, being rightfully by one another’s sides, it all comes apart, the seams, begging to be repaired into what it has to be now.

You envelop his hold on you, hands sliding into slips beneath his jacket, around his waist, tracing over his back, before dipping under his armpits and grasping his shoulders, knuckles pushed down by his leather jacket. One more step and he’ll kiss you. He’s closing a gap, no more breaches, you tapping his shoulders right down to the blades in encouragement. It’s parted mouths hovering over one another, cigarettes and vodka, school lunch and weed, it’s—

“Hey, guys! Higgins is so pissed off right now… After that shit went down in the caf, he’s ready to expel you, Y/N! Pretty fuckin’ sure.” You hear Gareth approach, and just like, Eddie releases you.

You have to steady yourself, want simmering into a slumber in your belly, not yet gone, but still reminding you where it lives. Your glare is directed at your mutual friend. Eddie, feeling as if he’s been doused with ice cold water, and the moment is shattered, you see those walls rebuilding rapidly, and she shrugs off your hand, leaving you and Gareth, and that slickness that has collected in your panties.

~*~

You aren’t sure just exactly what Eddie is feeling, but you’re very aware of what you are. So driving to his place once you know Wayne has left for the night shift—it’s a no brainer. You’d debated bringing Eddie your box of treasures, even your necklace, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe, maybe your best-friend doesn’t want you to…?

Want.

A dynamic shift in your relationship, or what it used to be. You can barely sit still as you wrack your brain through all the levels of hazy blurs. So much has happened in three days, but… today, with Eddie nearly kissing you on the mouth, and you nearly grinding against him in the Hawkins High parking lot—yeah, you two have to talk about all of this. As you squirm in your seat, hands tightening around the wheel, that approaching trailer park sign signals your arrival to his residence. You can’t stop the way your heartbeat feels as if it’s ping ponging around in your throat, or that anxious twitch of your mouth’s corner—forget even attempting to deny your cascading memories of the way his chocolate irises wore an expression unlike anything you’ve ever seen on Eddie Munson.

His trailer comes into your sights, that tickle swooping your guts and holding them hostage. You swallow a thick ball of anxiety, parking next to his van, cutting your engine. The lights are all on and you’ve got no excuse to chicken out. It’s your year too, right? Fucking fuck it.

With your keys clutched in your palm, you make your way to Eddie’s trailer, rasping on his door lightly. You don’t hear his music blaring, so he might be reading, planning a campaign, writing some music he’d mentioned wanting to practice with the guys soon, get a feel for its sound—just last week. You have given about three octaves of knocks and are about to give up, head pressed the door, thinking he was just lost in lust earlier, and maybe you’d fucked up on your end beyond repair. Exhausted by the stampeding pain that brings your insides, you flip the Munson’s spare key off your key ring and unlock the door. A bold move—albeit—a very stupid one.

That familiar scent of Eddie and Wayne’s shared carton of cigarettes hits your nose, along with the leftovers from dinner you see sitting out on the stove. Your cookies, which have been devoured, are missing their note. You panic, briefly thinking Eddie probably trashed it, only to come back from that brink seconds later. It’s not what you’re here for. You glance at the couch and it’s empty, not even Eddie’s usual indent on the cushion is there.

Swinging your keys from your pointer finger, you peek down the small hallway to Eddie’s closed door, light spilling out underneath. He could be sleeping, possibly ignoring you, or he snuck out the back door…

Your feet make an echoing squeak across the trailer’s flooring structure, your fingers twisting the knob and pushing, pausing, deciding to go ahead. If he wants you to leave then you’ll go, if he’s asleep, you’ll go, if he left… You can’t fathom that thought, another ignorance that you partake in. You aren’t sure exactly what you expected, but seeing your best-friend’s tallish frame, with his back facing you, lean leg propped atop his mattress, right arm bent at a very clear angle, his left propped on one of his many amps he’d apparently moved since you’d been here last—is sure as hell NOT it. Eddie’s curly hair ruffles and is jostled across his shoulders with each movement his arm makes, his delicious ass clenching as his body thrusts into his rhythm, the outline of his chain on his perspired neck and damp strands of dark hair—clear. You don’t have to hear the thick, slick and wet stroking to know what he’s doing to himself.

You cross an ankle over the other, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to bounce on the balls of your heels to get relief. Your fingers white knuckle his banged up door handle, your mouth parting. Whether it’s that bond you two share, or your very visible labored breathing, Eddie’s shoulder blades pinch together, his motions abruptly cut. He turns as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be—definitely something you aren’t prepared to handle. It’s like your mouth is speaking for you, eyes in a trance, enslaved to your lustful abiding.

Fucked out, blown up pupils shave off the color of your irises, your tongue gliding across your teeth, that take a turn to sink into your bottom lip, your toes curling in your shoes. You feel hot, body battered in melting flames that won’t cease, won’t let you get in a normal burst of air flow. You know without having to fix your posture that you’ve made a mess between your legs, panties soaked to hell—completely ruined. You’re honest to fuck not sure if you can make it out of here in an upright position, that painfully strong ache tackling your cunt, breaking off your common sense, leaving you Eddie-drunk. Helping yourself to a swiping look between his legs, he’s still got a ring clad hand wrapped around a very generous girth—shiny—a length that leaves saliva pooling on your tongue’s tip.

His chest is slick with sweat, tattoos glossed beneath, nipples hard from the cool air let into his bedroom. Which, you note, is really fucking hot, and the window is steamed up. Your eyelids flutter in rapid blinks to help you reign yourself in, but all you see are glimpses of Eddie’s fist around himself, that creamy and swollen head, full balls on either side, trimmed curls at the base of his shaft. You want to die. And oh, what a sweet and sinful death that would be.

“Mhm… fuck.” You say through the gap between your panting mouth, words take the opportunity to bust free, joining a high pitched whimper.

Eddie’s chocolate eyes are completely black, leaving no room for anything else but purely raw desire. They widen, a sharp heave in his inhaling chest, abdomen flexing as he holds himself tightly. When you don’t move Eddie takes the initiative, slowly approaching, a softness there beneath the want and knowing. He reaches your space, still giving you enough, but you’re able to still feel that radiating body heat. Neither of you speak, because what is there to say right now?

You’d be a pleading mess of profanities, apologizes, and begging to be taken and used.

Thankfully, Eddie makes another move before you. His spare hand joins your own on the door knob, fingers brushing your knuckles, encouraging, giving you one more opportunity if you’re in distress or uncomfortable. You hook onto his offer and you surprise you both by finding something to say after all, throat parched, yet still damp with wanton rasp. “Start touching yourself again, Eddie. Please?” Fuck, well there’s a beg.

Eddie, assuming you want a show, nerves being dipped in lava and left to forever sizzle and smoke—gives in, both of you shutting his door and closing the two of you off from the outside world. He doesn’t wait for you to back away, pushing his hips to a rise, his cock gliding through his closed fist. You let him lean over you, frame against his door, watching his legs spread to widen his stance, obeying your plea. He almost asks, but assumes it would be too hopeful if you would want to touch yourself in front of him too. You’re out of your mind, common sense obliterated for all eternity, watching your bestfriend practically pin you to the door and fuck himself in front of you.

Those sounds you’ve imagined, pictured, they’re even more pronounced in person. Some low enough that it’s a stifling whimper, a needy sobbing. If you don’t do something about the gnawing throbbing between your thighs, it’ll be total combustion. There’s an empowerment that winds itself around a pulsating set of nerves in one’s decision to masturbate in front of their best-friend. That coolness works itself in your palms, your fingers tossing your keys over and onto Eddie’s dresser, toeing off your shoes, his eyes steamy in their grasp on your every move.

You’d wished you had brought your camera to photograph his expression when you walk over to where he stood in front of his bed, turning to face him, your fingers undoing your jeans and the zipper, a resounding echo in the room, Eddie’s tongue poking out on his upper lip, he holds himself around the base, the urgency to fuck his hand as you take your seat on his mattress and scoot with your back to the wall, hips lifting to help you pull off your jeans and panties. You struggle momentarily, but neither of you are saying a word, gazes steady and unwavering.

Discarding your clothing with a soft thump onto his floor, you’re heartbeat thumps in your throat, ribcage taking an unsteady hammering of its resounding drumming. You heed Eddie’s silent command to continue, agreeing to this turning point between you two. Your thighs fall open and that sticky want strings to your swollen folds, glistening in the creases of your thighs, your cunt sopping wet. You’re dripping, and Eddie isn’t missing it when your arousal finally does drizzle from your neglected pussy and onto his bedsheets. You shift to get comfortable, hand cupping yourself, immediately smothered in your own juices, legs falling into a drop, toes finally able to curl without the barrier of your shoes, bunching Eddie’s sheets.

Eddie watches you from where he can see, still eager to be closer, but unable to stop himself from stroking along his length, teasing that vein that runs alongside his cock. You do it again, rubbing your palm up and down your lips, a crude squelch causing Eddie to almost black out, and you shiver. He releases himself, heavy and hot between slim thighs, and he’s moving. He puffs out a gravelly hiss from pursed lips, stalking towards you and giving a cat like crawl across his own bed, planting himself shoulder to shoulder with you to your left. He must be feeling the overwhelming change that is occurring, as he reaches for your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze.

You gravitate towards your hand, fingers slipping through your slickness, your head bowing in embarrassment. Eddie grips your chin and tilts you his way, shaking his head, that same hand dropping to your thigh and lifting to pull up and to the side. And he looks. He fucking memorizes you between your legs with these little mewling coos of appreciation that cement themselves into your subconscious. You do the same, helping yourself to an up close and personal view of what he’s been hiding.

Eddie leans forward and cups the nap of your neck, his other hand taking your wrist and removing it from your self-touches, shushing your protesting whine. He brings it up to his mouth, which is hovering close to yours, your own fingers pressed against your lips, and he licks a straight stripe up your creamy covered palm, humming underneath his breath as he does so. You want to slap him and ride him on every available surface in this trailer. You’re the one to speak, having to.

“Eddie…” It’s a meek little trail-off.

Eddie lets go of your wrist and uses that hand to pull his cock off his stomach, a wet patch left behind in his happy trail. He still doesn’t let your neck go, his fingertips tapping an invisible beat, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He’s laughing, tufts of air settling across your mouth. You narrow your gaze, moving to shut your legs, Eddie’s hand quickly preventing the action, stroking the meat of your inner thigh. “Only fair if I’m exposed, sweetheart.”

“But… you’re laughing.” And it hits you then, why he’s really chuckling in that Eddie Munson way. It’s an incredulous and mind boggling turn of events. Best-friends that broke up when they were never together, now side by side and in a very compromising situation.

You grin and falter into his embrace, your hand working its way into a wind around his neck, taking sweaty strands in scoops between your fingers, his pick chain draped across your knuckles. Eddie licks across his bottom lip, tapping your hips as he moves, your hands falling, and sprawls his legs into a propped spread, cock neglected and flushed, much like the rest of his skin, that you’ll die if you don’t put your marks on. He’s motioning for you to turn in a slow facing position in front of him, and that’s how you end up—vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. He’s muttering words, huddled and unintelligible, reaching out and tugging you to him by your ankles, stopping, resting, eyes dark as they do a once over to gauge your mental stability. When you don’t protest, palms splaying out to keep yourself upright behind you, Eddie lets his legs flatten against his sheets, a smirk pattering his lips, indenting its knowing presses beside his mouth.

His exhale catches on a ragged breath, a passionate declaration signing off on what’s about to occur, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pulls you close, your ass resting on his hairy thighs, waiting, held, his arm wrapping around your lower back and lifting you completely into that ink splattered, silk-slick chest, his skin sticking to your long sleeved t-shirt, ruining it with sex-soaked perspiration. You think that there’s nothing—no—you know that in this entire world, no matter what, that whatever will happen to you is never going to compare to the moment when Eddie’s maneuvering hands glide your wet cunt over his cock, using your drenching heat as his own personal lubricant. Your ankles lock around his waist, no choice from the close band that your best-friend has re-tethered you to him with, leaving no room or space where you’re not touching or breathing in the other. Your arms curl around Eddie’s neck, hands draped down his back as you help yourself to pinching and clawing the flesh beneath, relishing every little grumble and groan off his pretty lips. Your face takes solace in his neck, nosing your way through his curly hair, nose bumping his chain to lift so that your mouth can claim him.

“Fuck.” His throat constricts around a swallow, your teeth sinking into a piece of Eddie’s flesh and biting, releasing, lips closing over that angry spot to soothe, tongue tasting salt, licking it off, indulging.

He lets your have your way with his neck, a particularly harsh slap landing on your ass in following of your mouth on his jugular, letting your tongue following that curvature into his jawline. You don’t stop his wandering hands, you don’t dare fight off his vice grip on the globes of your ass, his kneading, using as them leverage to place you right where he wants you. You let him take control, an unspoken agreement, a having to have. Your head falls back as Eddie rolls his hips beneath, rocking his lap, solid presses that drag his fat cock over your embarrassingly wet pussy, scattering your thick arousal and smearing it across his happy trail, getting caught in that patch of curls at the base of his shaft. You’re dripping all over him, quite literally. Caught on a trapped hum, hung in its hisses between your clenched teeth, you croon into Eddie’s neck, your stomach tightening, that velvety drag of his dick through your swollen folds making your lids flutter closed, colors dotting in their dances—translucent.

You aren’t sure where to move your hands, comfortable with having them shred Eddie’s back and empty out the past few days of frustration and desperation. Eddie encourages, palming handfuls of your ass, creating a cresting twist, a thigh trembling rub of sopping wet desire. He’s merely whimpering, appreciating, not overly vocal until his swollen head catches your neglected clit, and his head drops back, fingers pinching so tightly into your skin that it burns.

“Oh, shit. Dammit, baby.”

You’re simpering on a series of whimpers, agreeable and speechless. Eddie is feeding off it. “Yeah? You needing this too? Little clit feels so good rubbing on my dick, sweetheart. You want me to do it again?”

When you’re not immediately able to be vocal, Eddie pulls back a little, shoving his hand between your thighs and drags his rings directly through your arousal, coating them in a glittering shine. His first real touch where you need him the most. You both inhale sharply. It’s the pain from the cool metal of his jewelry that makes it feel so fucking good. He curses, telling you how messy you’re being, flinging his hand in your sights, dragging you in a pry off of his neck, holding your jaw and flashing his knuckles.

“See what you did, messy little angel. You gotta clean em’ now for me.”

His eyes are so fucking demolished, brown crushed beneath a midnight sea of black and insatiable attraction. You’re mewling, tongue lolling out, licking that metallic onto your tongue, sloppily sloping around his knuckles, lips suckling what your tongue can’t catch, your own taste fresh off your mouth. That’s when Eddie brushes a calloused thumb across your bottom lip, tugging it down to expose your teeth, and he brings your lips to his, a feral groan stealing your breath, sharing your juices in your first kiss. It’s a shift in the energy you share, a no going back, no running away, a fate sealed. Eddie loses all control and flips you off his lap, pinning you beneath him, kissing you with such feverish vigor that your hand tangles into his messy curls, and you pull, hard.

His tongue licks your lips open, greedily removing what’s left of your taste that remains. It’s noisy and nasty in the expanse of his small bedroom—diabolically sinful. One hand caresses your throat’s expanse, the other dropping down with a snapped wrist between your thighs, palm smacking your cunt, a guttural groan vibrating from his mouth into your own. Saliva strings on the break away, Eddie’s gaze switching to watch the hand on your cunt, out of it.

“Your pussy always this wet, baby? Or is it just for your best-friend?”

“Only for you, Eddie. Always you.”

Fallen into the depths of satisfaction, Eddie permits a slender digit to drag down your slit, taking that thick honey with it, a squelch echoing in the room when his finger wiggles its way inside of you. You clamp around him, chest heaving with shaky breaths.

“Jesus Christ. You’re gonna drown my dick when you let me fuck you, aren’t you?”

You’re incoherently babbling, tapping the hand that’s on your throat, hungry for it. “Tighter.”

Eddie’s brow raise is comical, a surprise coating his features. “So miss Y/N likes it rough? Never woulda guessed.”

You gulp a pump of air that vibrates across his hold, trying to gain more depth from his finger. It’s moving in exploration of your softly wet walls, an excess of arousal being pressed out upon that squish. Eddie tightens his hold on your throat, before he taps his fingers to your jugular and releases, hand toppling down your side and caressing, bringing. “Fuck, my best-friend’s got such a perfect little pussy. S’ made to be destroyed and used.”

You’re nodding so hard that the motion causes a cracking pop in your neck, Eddie laughing that noise under a cute breath. He’s thick with it, wiggling in a second finger and causing you drop your hands back behind you and push into the sensation, chasing, hunting it.

“Desperate to get away from me all week, now look at you. What a whore.”

Eddie has a mouth on him, something you’d always wondered about in your daily daydreams and nightly fantasies. As vocal as when he’s singing with his band. He’s saying words to you, snapping your attention, you’re whining as his fingers leave your cunt, and he’s pulling you into him so hard your lips split apart, cushioning his cock, cradling him in that overwhelming slick. He must not have meant for that action to cause it, as he jumps when you do, this feral look flickering behind those heated orbs. You know… it’s time.

Eddie is barely able to stand, clumsily bringing you with him by a laced grip in your hands. He gets you upright and you’re dizzy, his hands taking purchase on your shirt (the only remaining piece of clothing on you), and rips it with gritting teeth and anger, as if he’s pissed it’s not the club shirt, or sickened with himself for destroying yours—you’re not sure. Spit pools at the corners of your mouth as you let him tear off your tattered tee and yank your bra down, impatiently yanking the clasp apart and discarding it, helping himself to your tits, closing those plush lips over a nipple. Your hand wraps around his throbbing cock, fingers barely touching around the width, squeezing him—tugging. His hips stutter and he whines against your breast, teeth biting the flesh with a harsh precision.

Your other hand works its way through his wet curls and massages his scalp, tenderly altering in beckoning strokes, ones that switch off into root tugging pulls. Eddie’s hands keep your breast cupped, switching off to the other, whilst you dip lower and fondle his balls, letting your pinky drop off and scratch into his inner thigh. He’s doing that humming thing underneath his fucked out tone again, and you’re focusing your attention on his cock, thumb pad stroking that weeping slit, spreading it around and over that vein, enchanted with how it causes a thin bright shine over him, your own cream matted into the curls at the base of him, pathed up his stomach. His mouth leaves your chest and those big hands grip your cheeks, both of you watching as you jack him with a sticky tug.

Fuck me.

“Who’s the whore for his bestfriend now, Eds? You gonna admit that half the shit I’ve done this week has gotten your dick so hard you can’t decide what you’ve hated me for more,” You say, pausing to twist your grip, making him fold into your holding hand, “my smart mouth or how much you need this.”

Your powering dominance is short lived, hand falling off his erection, with Eddie kneeing you into a shove until your back collides with his desk, his arm reaching around to push most of its contents off and onto the floor, not caring where any of it goes. He nudges your thighs apart and slots his lean frame between, thumb catching the corner of your mouth, his instruction clear, yet awaiting your consent to cross this no back-stepping boundary. “M’ gonna fuck you right here, and you’re goin’ to watch me take you, Y/N.”

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna pass out at any given moment.

“I’m gonna watch you, Eddie.” You agree, zoning out and sprinting after your pleasure.

“Good girl.” Eddie breaks briefly, mouth on your shoulder, hand winding your hair around his fist and tugging it back so hard that the ache inside of you becomes an inferno. He finds the underside of your chin, voice honey-hot. “Because you’re not leaving this room until there’s a puddle of me running back out of your cunt.”

You launch forward so fast that Eddie falls into you, chest smashing against your breasts, your lips crashing into his for a brutally intimate kiss. You sink your teeth into his bottom lip and tug, biting down so hard you taste copper—licking it up and making Eddie’s cock jump. His ring covered hand attaches itself to your throat and he drags you off your prop against the desk, spinning you around and securing you to it, those hairy thighs pressing into you, wet cock so close to where you need him the most. His hand wraps around your hair again and lifts your gaze to that small opening in the mirror where posters and his most prized possession hangs. You’re flushed and soaked with sweat, mouth swollen and streaked with red from biting into Eddie’s plump lip, your pussy dripping thick strings of your creamy essence, slowly slithering in dangles from your pussy and onto the floor.

“You’re so fucking messy, Y/N. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, baby?” Eddie is like the devil on your shoulder, and you, you’re his angel of eternal damnation.

You’re about to beg, but Eddie saves you the trouble, his fingers tapping in tips down your spine, caressing, stroking, before they spread your lips apart and dip inside, palm flat. “Should fuckin’ split you open, do it raw. Cum so deep inside that you end up pregnant with my baby and have no choice but to always think of me, be around me.”

Though there’s a tease behind his passionate words, there’s this primal exclamation that overtakes you and you clamp down on his fingers. A series of fast paced images are vivid in your mind. Your tummy swollen and breasts heavy, Eddie having you bent over like this—one hand on your belly, the other on your throat, feeling your pulse galavant beneath his touch.

“Y/N… Fuck, sweetheart.” He’s so fucked in his descending tone that the depth is gruff and tipping off his diaphragm, you imagine. He presses his cheek against your own, chin resting on your shoulder as you drink each other in, in the mirror’s expanse, Eddie’s tone weak. “You really willing to carry my kid?”

You meet his eyes in the cluttered mirror, nodding, a softness carving out permanent residence in your features. It’s a topic you’d never shared with anyone else, never banked too much on thinking about, but beyond the idea of how hot this all is, you can’t imagine a scenario like this that doesn’t involve Eddie Munson. Vulnerable and barely above a brisk whisper, you’re answering him with, “Yeah, Eds. Want a family with you.”

At your admission, he lets his hand go in languid thrusts. You groan and let your head shift, but Eddie is jerking you back to stare into the glass, both of you panting and on the cusp of an out of body experience. It causes you to grin, licking your lips as your best-friend pumps those experienced digits to cause a purposeful squelch, his rings clinking together. His hard cock is pressed between his own stomach and your back, that pre-cum pooling onto your lower back and smearing in streaks down your ass. You’ve had more than enough teasing and you’re well aware that Eddie has too.

His look briefly falters, turning to mouth at your chin, a silent question. It’s you who uses your words, or rather, trembles in your feeble attempt. “Eddie, just put your cock inside me, or I swear I’ll—“

He’s smirking wildly at your slack-jawed expression when his fingers slide out of you and stick together with your cum, to which he helps himself to and coats his cock, then lines himself up and presses the thick head into your opening, leaning down to bite at your shoulder and leave an exposed imprint. Your legs feel like jello and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. He’s going to ask you to beg, and you’re an all in willing participant. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t. He inhales sharply, you hold your breath, and both of you watch him sink into your slick and soft cunt, inch by inch, until his balls rest against the globes of your cheeks.

You’re still holding your breath, releasing it when you feel him sigh, grip on your hair loosening a little, too caught up in the fact that he’s where he belongs, after so much time doing without this. Your legs are about to buckle, jerking, toes curling against the carpeted floor, overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, and by your best-friend’s cock throbbing in your aching pussy. “E-Eds…?” It’s a pathetic cry of a question.

Eddie’s brows pinch together, sweat beaded between. He grips your jaw and his fingertips tap you back to meet his mouth, hovering over your lips. “S’ okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” He briefly drops the playful gimmick, reassuring you that he’s right here with you.

It’s more than enough to have you arching back into him, a brash pummeling of his hips that sends you into the dresser, having to reach out and catch yourself. Eddie is quick witted, gripping your wrists with one hand and pinning them behind your back, stepping with you in toe, elongating his arm to snatch those handcuffs on his wall, that cold metal biting into your wrist, that dull noise presenting itself as the cuffs lock you into place, Eddie gripping onto the chains’ excess expanse, using it as a leverage. A sliver of a chalky moan trickles off your kiss-swollen lips, appreciative. The way Eddie is manhandling you has you so fucking euphoric that you’re sure you’ll be in a comatose state before either of you can cum. Your best-friend’s large hand finds purchase in your hair again, drawing his hips back, the other on the chain of the cuffs—steadying himself into a rhythm, riding you like all that matters is your destruction and his ultimate ownership.

Eddie Munson has owned you since the very moment that you two met.

The way he’s executing such precise and rough thrusts, making sure you’re high on the bring up, toes pressing into the carpet, that you’re stuffed full of his fat cock until it hurts, twitching in overstimulation, sore and fluttering walls eager to be soaked in everything he has to give you, that you are taking in every inch, catching every ridge, leaving you a shambled, panting mess, in pieces only being put back together again when Eddie will allow your release. His hair is tickling your shoulder blades, his fingers leaving the cuffs to press into your mouth and curl over your tongue, relishing in how you gag around the digits. You’re weak, so fucking weak for him, and he knows it.

“Can’t wait to hear you gag on my cock, Y/N. If you have trouble with these bad boys?” He puts an emphasis, wiggling his fingers against your tongue, giving them a secondary push to over extend your gag reflexes, his dick twitching inside you.

You bite down on his fingers, sucking them in, accepting his challenge, willing it to happen. His balls slap into your ass, heavy and hot, every movement causing the metal to rut into the skin of your wrists. He’s got a steady tempo going, alternating it by dipping his hips to bring you with him, letting you nearly collide with your chest flush to his desk. He reaches up and shoves that poster back by peeling tape, revealing more of your fucked out forms. Your eyes widen at your disheveled and unrecognizable appearance, Eddie using your cuffed hands as reigns. Riding you so hard that you can’t breathe anything but his hot air curling around the shell of your ear.

“Dammit, you are such a good girl for me, Y/N. Always pictured you takin’ my cock, but you’re not even crying yet, just taking what I give you.”

Yet… Fuck me running.

Your scalp is tingling with a prickling crowd of flames from his harsh grip, his other hand reaching to smack your ass, using some mechanism on the cuffs—albeit—struggling with his spit soaked fingers that were just in your mouth, to unlatch them and discard them at your feet, and he watches the flesh of your ass cheek redden and jiggle beneath his biting palm. You fist your fingers into a strewn pair of his blue denim jeans left on the desk top, dipping your forehead down and arching your back, trying to look between your own legs from this new angle to see Eddie’s cock cradled in your puffy lips. He tuts at your unsuccessful action, forcing you back into watching him doing his hard work—the hardest he’s worked at anything (sans his band or the campaigns, if he’s being honest with himself)—to make this unforgettable for you. He hits that spot located inside, the one you have to strain an arm to barely graze, and you lose all coherent capabilities.

“Eddie… that’s, oh my god, oh FUCK. Right there!”

Eddie’s throat crumbles under a weak pant, which ends up coming out as a whimper. He remains firm, however, still using your hair to keep you right where he wants you, his other hand reaching around to pet his own shaft as he slides out just enough to make you wetter.

“Yeah, baby? That spot gonna make somethin’ happen for you?”

You don’t answer, mumbles and babbling gibberish. He shakes that precious head of his, curls tickling your back and shoulders, a sigh breaking free. “Sorry, sweetheart. Can’t believe we’re doin’ this in front of you. Both my girls right here with me, one of them at my fuckin’ mercy.” Your attentions snap over your shoulder and you see Eddie looking at his fucking guitar, that is one of the only things remaining on the mirror. You gape, but aren’t surprised in the slightest.

He continues on, pretending he doesn’t see your partial seethe. “Makin’ a mess all over me, but I bet you like to see it too, don’t you?” He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, still talking to the inanimate object. “Both my sweethearts are such sluts for their owner.”

You can’t help that rattle that clamps around your bones and slices through your spinal cord, seizing your abdomen, right down into your cunt. Owner? You have zero time to warn him, ask if you can, alarms unprepared, skin slapping on skin, his taste on your mouth, his breath on your flesh, that slippery glide that has cum running down your thighs, and it’s a sudden wave crashing over your insides and drowning them in your painfully interstellar-esque orgasm. Your eyes burn with tears as you watch your best-friend feel what’s happening, realizing. He’s covered in your release, and instead of being mad, he is influencing you like the little devil that he can be, plump lip pressing to your ear lobe with one continuous command. “That’s it. C’mon, Y/N. Drench my dick.”

You wish you could bottle the feeling of your first orgasm with Eddie Munson, your best-friend—forever. Finding yourself growing into that vulnerability that comes with the high, you seek to find solace in Eddie’s arms, whimpering at the overstimulation of his thick cock. With that connection still in tact, Eddie is spinning you around, dick sliding out with a messy mixture of arousals covering you both—his member completely doused in your cream, painting the trimmed curls at the base of his shaft with even more of you, slicking back some more of that happy trail. You want to be embarrassed, but as he’s red faced and struggling to breathe, you know that there’s no need to be. He steers you back onto the bed, falling easily between your spread thighs, drawing them up and around his waist.

He presses his forehead into your own, kissing each corner of your mouth, rings circling in dusting sweeps on the apex of your thighs. His voice is a shivered whisper. “Fuck, baby. You okay?”

There’s words on your tongue, Eddie’s taste on your mouth, things you’ve known for years, but are unsure if Eddie has, or if this is something he needs because he’s afraid you’ll abandon him, but that he doesn’t feel what you do. Your head is spinning and Eddie brushes sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, taking his cock through your swollen folds, pressing that spongey head into your clit—both of you crying out. “Y/N, m’ right here. Care to join me?”

And god help you, the way that you look at him. Really allow yourself to see him this way—unabashed—it stirs all those feelings Eddie has bottled down since forever. You press your thumb into his mouth, your other hand sliding down to grip onto him, gliding your hand back and forth, relishing in how his abdomen tenses, muscles flexing, body gravitating towards whatever you’re willing to bestow. He doesn’t let you touch him much longer, taking what your hand isn’t around and guiding it back into your cunt, that scrumptious burn brimming you, making your thighs drop open, back arch, only to tighten your ankles around him, digging your heels into his ass. He suckles your fingertip into his mouth, licking the digit in until it’s down to the knuckle.

Your head presses sideways, cheek on his pillow, inhaling his shaving cream and that spicy scent. He pauses his movements, making you frown in displeasure. He lets go of your spit tainted finger, gripping your chin, a possessive fire overcoming him. His irises remain completely black, putting you deeper into that comatose trance of agonizing sin. “I want you to fucking say it, Y/N.”

You start a beginning questionnaire, Eddie shaking his head and pressing in harder on your chin, fingers splaying across your jaw, rings pinching your chin in the most delightfully painful of ways. “Say you want me, tell me you fucking need me. That you’re not tired of me, and that you’re proud to be the freak’s slut.”

Your hands wind around his back and you sink your nails in as hard as you can, bearing down on him, sucking him in deeper, both of you in a state of no return. His hand tickles down from your face and grips your neck. “Still sick of me, baby?” He situates your gaze, lifting his hips to a raise so that you can see where you’re connected. You’re inconsolable, that fire already blazing your gut, turning every sense into nothingness.

When Eddie starts back up again, he slams himself into you so hard that your vision goes dark and you shred your own bottom lip open, body moving closer to his wall due to the force. He’s licking beneath your jugular, words sensual and filthy, making your entire body spike in a sudden electricity. “Gonna cum in every hole you’ve got, so you remember that they’re mine.”

This time you’re more than ready to give him a warning, body beginning to shake beyond your control, breaths stuttering in your chest. Eddie reaches down between you, calloused thumb flicking your clit. Everything is so fucking wet and the way it sounds in the expanse of Eddie’s small room, it has you opening your mouth, out of control and greedily begging for more.

“Eds, harder. Please? Almost…”

He’s grinning in that special way that weakens you—heart and soul, body and mind. “So much more than a slut.” His thrusts become choppy, his own babbling tone turning into Eddie-speak. “You are way more than you know, Y/N.”

You fondle his pick chain and bring him into your immediate airspace, mouths hovering. He’s nearing his end, cock getting fuller inside you. “Need you to tell me how much you love me.”

You both completely go slack. Eddie stops himself all together, body trembling, head bowing. Your heart rate increases, feeling as if you’ve skipped a staircase thousands of feet in the air and you’re now free falling.

Love… You don’t have to think twice.

Your hands move to cup his face, holding on, your eyes shining with tears at all overloaded emotions and senses. “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.”

At your admission, those beautiful eyes—dark with remains of passion—they fill, and he gives you his all, driving his cock into you in calculated presses, trying like hell to get you to cum first. When he speaks, his voice cracks apart. “Let me know that you’re right here with me, Y/N.”

“I’ve always been here, Eddie.” Is what you manage, thumping your hand against his wrist and helping him bring his fingers back to your clit.

He doesn’t let you look away, noses smashed together, sticky foreheads pressing, hair curtaining the apples of pink, sex stained cheeks. Your eyes widen as that knot begins to tighten in your stomach, unraveling so violently that Eddie has to grip your quivering thigh in one hand, the other keeping steady on your clit. You dig into his back, other hand tugging on his hair, and Eddie is giving a throaty seduction. “That’s it, be my good girl and cum again for me.”

And you’re coming apart at your very core, every cell exploding and rebuilding, gluing yourself to Eddie to seize the ache that scrambles your insides and leaves you breathless. He’s cursing, keeping his finger on your clit to help you coast over the high, immediately following you with the lowest, sweetest, whimpering moan that you’ve ever heard. Both of your eyes still drinking in the other’s pleasure, tears spilling over your lash line as Eddie’s hips cease and he holds, his cock swelling and that soft, creamy warmth coating your sore walls in spurts. He collapses onto your chest and you hold him there in a vice hug, his hand still trapped between your exhausted bodies. He gently eases it out, groaning around the wetness that he’s all too eager to sample until the layer of shine is off his fingers.

Holy shit and fuck me…

Your legs fall to the side, unable to stay upright any longer, Eddie keeping a hovering hand to soothe your shaking. He kisses your neck with a plush mouth, his chain dangling between your breasts. You’re petting his hair—which is so soaked it’s as if he’s been in the rain or come from the shower—off his forehead, wincing as he slides out and keeps himself by your side. You gasp and he joins, fascinated by your cum and his own seed pouring from your cunt. He raises up a little. “Mhm. Let me see?”

He props your thigh, sliding his fingers back and forth, zoned in on his bedsheets being ruined from the literal puddle of your shared cum that runs from you. Seconds pass and he grins widely, plopping onto his back, his fingertips caressing your shoulder, down to your arm. It’s a comfortable quiet, even with the intense meaning of the words that were spoken, until Eddie starts with a, “So..?”

And you cut him off, trying to get your uncomfortably hot body closer. “So I love you. And I have never stopped needing you, or wanting you, Eddie. I just hope all this wasn’t because we were fighting and you got scared I would leave, and —“

He doesn’t let you finish this time, that chocolate-ly brown ring swinging back around his pupil in a brisk develop, showcasing the moisture in his eyes. “I was scared because I love you so damn much that I would charge headfirst into Mordor, or some alternate dimension without any weapon or any shield, just for you. You gotta know that, Y/N.”

His softness, that glittering fragility, it makes you seal your mouth to his, kissing him full of your feelings. He cups the nape of your neck, drawing in closer, thumb coaxing a shiver from you as it passes over a certain spot behind your ear. On a wet break away, you’re nodding your head. “Guess we spent all week fighting when we should’ve been fucking and talking about our feelings.”

Eddie smirks, then is serious. “Be that as it may, I’m sorry I’ve been shit at showing you I appreciate all that you do for the guys and me. And for forgetting that you are your own person too. S’ not like I meant to, I swear. I just get so fucking caught up and I shouldn’t take for granted anything that has to do with you or with us.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my best-friend, Eddie Munson?”

While it’s still true, you’re wondering when the words leave your lips. Eddie just fucked you so hard you probably won’t be able to sit down for a week or walk upright for hours, so friendship isn’t exactly the most appropriate term anymore, is it?

Eddie taps his fingertips to your temple, drawing your dazed expression, clinging to the cosmic connection once more. “M’ yours, Y/N.”

“Oh yeah, Munson?” You’re so high that you could fly out of here right now and make rounds around the whole globe. Your chest is aching with a tempo that promises new hope and ease.

Eddie is giddy too, that wide set smile, cheesing. “Just gotta get you a new shirt.”

The memory of your old club attire being one with the forest floor seems like so long ago. Eddie knuckle grazes your cheek, apologetic. You shush him. “I ruined yours, so we’re even.”

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes and he’s tackling you beneath him, pinning your hands in a lace above your head. “Nah, we are just getting started on bein’ even, baby.”

~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @gothbitchshit @thisishellfire @ethereal27cereal @likedovesinthewnd

-I really need to form a bigger tag list! I’m sorry :/-

Lemme know if you want on my general tag list, please! :)

[queers-gambit]

Tears in the Rain

prompt: feelings are confessed and a decision is made; the only thing left to do is heal and be okay.

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 8.4k

note: Eddie's 19, reader's 18+, and Chrissy's 17-18 years old. and yes - The Book of Unholy Mischief was published in 2008, but i still use a quote from it, oh well - roll with it!

warnings: Hanahaki Disease AU, cursing, unrequited love, y'all know the drill - angst! hospitals, and minor description of surgical procedure. again - angst! please proceed with maturity and caution. is this a happy ending? depends on your mental state idk anymore. ✅ no spoilers

other Eddie Munson Hanahaki Disease fics: Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses Gone with the Sin

It started in the 8th grade, spitting out bits of petals and scraping them off your tongue when nobody was looking; subtly wiping your hands on your jeans and pretending you hadn't. Your child's mind was overwhelmed and confused by the sight but figured it had to be normal, never asking any questions, because who would ever believe your symptoms?

You kept this secret to yourself like you did many others, never sharing with anyone the pain that was slowly creeping through your veins. You didn't even tell him - the boy who made your heart race and palms get sweaty. The boy who made your mind go blank and simultaneously race with thought. He's been your friend since the 1st grade, best friend since 3rd, you thought you could share anything, but after the talent show in 7th grade and you saw the way he was held hostage in his seat while watching Chrissy Cunningham do her cheer routine, you knew things couldn't stay the same.

His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, and it was the first of many star-struck looks Eddie would give the strawberry blonde. A look you'll come to understand would never be directed at you.

Everything around you was changing but you refused to be left behind, so, you changed with the times; you changed with your friend. Your hair was cropped short as his grew out in unruly curls; you wore black almost everyday (like he did), you might've even learned how to play guitar so you two could have another bonding experience, and you even joined his stupid fucking Hellfire Club because you thought you could impress him with your Dungeons and Dragons knowledge that you didn't spend all summer studying over.

When you got to high school, your symptoms changed - just like you did. It wasn't fair, but you never tried to fix what was wrong; Nancy Wheeler spending hours with you in the library as you feigned a personal project you needed to research, searching for any solution. Your friend didn't know you found answers the summer before high school, the summer puberty hit you like a bullet train; the summer everything changed.

You knew something was terribly and fatally wrong yet never bothered to fix it, because why bother putting forth effort into an inevitable end? Your options were limited and neither sounded better than the last.

Option One: you succumb to your symptoms and suffocate. Two: you got a surgery to remove the blooms growing in your lungs - but it would in turn take away all known thought and memory of your beloved. And Option Three: confess your feelings and pray to any and every known God, Goddess, Deity that he would return them.

However, you worried that if he did return your affections - whether he verbalized them or not - you wouldn't be in this predicament to begin with. So, you sucked it up and kept quiet because having him as just a friend was better than forgetting him, or losing his friendship. You were never good being alone but found being alone with him was better than being by yourself. You chose to remain strong and silent, despite the way you withered away inside; you chose to stay close, even though his proximity made your heart crack. You chose to borderline torture yourself because you knew walking away would take more bravery than sticking around.

But in the words of Ellie Newmark, "Unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before."

You positively refused to turn "bitter and mean", so, you plastered a smile on your face and never gave anyone reason to think anything could be wrong. You never thought there'd be anyone after him, because you were enamored with everything he did and the very idea of being in love with anyone except him drove your heart into your throat. The idea was unimaginable.

The first semester of high school, your chest got heavier with meat but also pressure, causing a terrible tightness that left you feeling as if you were breathing through a sauna; your lungs constricted with tendrils of prickling pain, and soon, those bits of petals were fully intact, giving you first sight to what was being hacked out of your body - white chrysanthemums.

After a bit of research, you discovered these particular flowers were used in European funeral bouquets - but not many others. You discovered white chrysanthemums were a symbol of death, grief, and mourning in some Asian cultures, and it did little to quell the worry in your chest.

Yet, how oddly beautiful to suffer through this; where your own body betrayed you but produce something pure, innocent even, despite being slathered with a halo of tacky blood.

However, you feared life without him and even if it meant your heart would permanently weep, you would sign yourself up for a lifetime of pain if it meant he stayed close. If it meant he stayed in your life. If his hand would continue to hold yours. If his smile would grace your sight, if those pillowy lips would form precious nicknames that always made you feel on top of the world.

You'd mourn yourself, in order to preserve and celebrate all he was.

For years, you persevered through the unimaginable pain in body and mind, and for years, you and he grew closer than ever before. In the 10th grade, things changed again - but this was only because you caught yourself about to confess your feelings for Edward Munson. Panic-inducing fear halted the words before they could slip out, and instead, it caused a violent coughing attack.

One so intense that it made you turn away from Eddie and get back in your father's car, driving away from his trailer as your palm was slathered in a slick, sticky mixture of blood and limp white petals.

You felt immense guilt when you glanced in the rearview mirror, Eddie's shocked, confused, and concerned figure standing on his porch - watching you drive away, and wondering what had gone wrong. You two had been smoking, sure, but Eddie often thought that you could smoke him under any table, any day. Maybe he had indulged you too much, and maybe your lungs and throat were going raw from it all - spurring a bud of guilt to sprout in Eddie's gut.

He didn't let you smoke going forward.

You accepted the new limitation because you couldn't handle telling him the truth. You chose to suffer for him, you chose to remain close and depend on him more than you should've. It became increasingly painful to live through your days, and to your heart-stopping fear, the pain was tenfold when you were nearest Eddie.

Eddie, who was oblivious to your pain.

Eddie, who couldn't pick up a fucking hint.

Eddie, who you've been in love with since you were a kid.

Eddie, who you spent every birthday and holiday with.

Eddie, who only ever wanted the pretty, popular head cheerleader... And not you.

Still, his friendship was better than nothing at all and you dealt with the staggering pain that soon left your limbs weak. Surely, the pain of losing him wouldn't match the pain you had now, so, you stuck it out.

You and Eddie hung out every weekend. You went to his shows at The Hideout, you helped him do his homework and study. You defended him against bullies, you'd wipe his tears, hold his hand through tattoos, you brought him new customers to up-charge his drug sales. You loved him, and you did what you could to show that without needing to verbalize it.

You laughed with him, cried, watched movies; went to concerts, checked out books in the library on how to fix automobiles to help him tune up his van. You remembered his Uncle Wayne's birthday and got him a new mug each year, you taught Eddie how to bake, you both would raid the music store and spend his drug money - and he'd always buy you a new record, even if it "wasn't real music".

Because that's what best friends did - they loved each other unconditionally.

And for years, you'd watch him stare after the pretty captain of the cheer team; her oblivious to his staring and him oblivious to yours. It was like a never-ending circle, watching the three of you idiots tiptoe around feelings and truth. Yet Eddie was focused on what was in front of him in the form of Chrissy, never bothering to ever check to see what was behind him - in the form of you.

Because you were always there. A constant presence tethered to his soul, forever being a safety net during the times he pushes himself too far.

The stake in your heart drove deeper when he'd ask your opinion on his hair - wondering if Chrissy would notice the trimmed dead ends (like you did). He'd ask you what flower was your favorite, because he wanted to impress the pretty strawberry blonde with a pretty bouquet. He asked you for a mixtape of your favorite love songs - learning a few of them on his guitar in the hopes of serenading the girl who you'd never be.

Thing was, Eddie was the only constant in your life and you felt it was impossible to walk away from him; some kind of chain keeping you from ever wondering too far. He was there from Day One, never leaving your side, and always knowing when something was wrong - until now.

When your symptoms graduated to coughing out blood daily, he didn't notice. When your chest was ready to cave in, making your breaths ragged and wheezy, he didn't notice. When your eyes became dull and lifeless due to the consistent pain that didn't let you rest through the night, he didn't notice.

What he did notice, was how Chrissy Cunningham was paying him slightly more attention since she and Jason Carver broke up. He noticed when her hair was different, he'd rave about how good she looked in the color green, gush to you in excitement when Mr. Lang had assigned them as project partners, and how Chrissy told him how funny she thought he was.

And the first day they decided to hang out together outside of educational purposes was the day you coughed out a full bloom. Floating on the surface of the water plugged in your bathroom sink was a white chrysanthemum, speckled in bright red blood; a string of red-stained saliva dripping from your mouth as you stared in shock. The face scrub popped lightly on your cheeks and fingertips, but your skincare routine was forgotten as you registered the newest symptom change.

This was new, this was much more painful. The usually beautiful flowers slowly grew in your lungs, sprouting thorns the longer you fought against your feels - refusing to admit defeat, and confess your deepest, longest kept secret.

For the following days, you were excusing yourself every single class period to retch into a toilet bowl, the blooms now sopping wet from your blood due to the shredded rawness of your throat and lungs.

Eddie didn't notice because Chrissy's perfume was still in his nostrils. Her swaying ponytail still behind his eyes. Her beaming smile painted in his mind, and fingers tingling from the ghostly memory of her hand in his.

Thorns sliced your throat, stabbed your tongue, and shredded the inside of your cheeks when you tried to spit them out as quick as possible. It was like your blood was made of glue, keeping the blooms and thorns stuck to your mouth and lips - no matter how your river of tears tried to wash them away. Or how your sobbing breath tried to force them out into the toilet - they just wouldn't budge.

Petals and flowers and thorns stuck to you, like your love for Eddie.

And Eddie didn't notice because Chrissy was wearing that skirt today, and he was telling you all about how beautiful she was instead of focusing on spending quality time with you; instead of noticing how you visibly shrunk into yourself in an effort to quell the pain throbbing in your chest and head, in an effort to block out the pain of hearing the boy you love gush about the girl he loves.

Breathing became harder, as if something were blocking your lungs. Blocking the passageway air needed to travel; blocking you out of your life. It took a physical toll; color of your eyes dulling, hair drying of any moisture, bones protruding from the harsh symptoms that refused to ease in severity. You felt fear for the first time since the 8th grade and this had all first started; trying to weigh your options over what to do.

Three options...

Eddie didn't notice your turmoil to make a decision because Chrissy agreed to a date with him.

Before you know it - years have passed since your first indication of symptoms. You prayed for deliverance, but God couldn't hear you through your gargled cries; coughing petals and blooms out between blobs of thick clots. Your pillow cases were all soiled, yet you couldn't replace them - it was futile with the way blood shot from your mouth and nose. You ran through tissues more than tampons, and your bedroom became something akin to a hospice room.

Eddie didn't notice when you dulled of life.

Being as you were now seniors, you figured showing up at Eddie's trailer in the middle of the night wasn't totally weird. After all, you both had sought refuge with the other since before you really understood what friendship meant. With worry and fear dropping your heart to your feet from the weight of your panic, you hopped in your beat up Toyota and drove through town to reach Eddie's home; used tissues scattered across the passenger seat - all saturated with blooming drops of blood.

You had no idea how to explain what was happening, but you needed to tell him. You needed help, and if there was a chance all of this could be over if you just told him the truth, you were willing to let down your walls. Eddie had always told you he'd do anything to help you, and you just banged your hands on the steering wheel as you tried to rid the idea from your mind that that, too, had changed.

When you got to Eddie's front door, the lights were on and you prayed he'd answer despite the late hour. You knocked, waited; knocked again, waited some more. After 4 minutes, you were pounding at his front door until it was shoved open - forcing you back a step - and to your horror, there stood Chrissy Cunningham... In Eddie's favorite Metallica shirt.

And only his shirt.

"Oh, hey," Chrissy smiles awkwardly, shifting her weight over her feet. Her shining strawberry blonde hair is strung off her neck in a messy bun that makes her look fucking ethereal. "Um, Eddie's in the shower... Do you want me to go get him for you?"

But the small blemish poking out from the collar of the shirt she wore made you shake your head through tears; trying to offer a small smile. "No, oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to interrupt. Shit, my bad, Chrissy," you backed away down the stairs, needing to use the railing to save yourself from falling over.

"You weren't," she assured. "We were, um... Done. H-He's in the shower, why don't you come in?" Her brows pulled together as if a string was threaded between them, offering sweetly, "I was gonna make some tea, do you want some? We could, um, hang out? Until he's out of the shower, i-if you want?"

FUCK! You knew Eddie didn't have fucking tea, so, the sweetheart must've brought it with her and now, she's offering to make you some? God damn it. Why'd she have to be so nice!?

"Oh, yeah, um, no, no thanks, Chrissy, that's really nice of you, but it's really nothing. I should just get going, I'll talk to him later, um... H-Have a nice weekend, and I'm sorry, again."

"Are you sure? You look kinda upset - I don't think you should drive right now."

Eddie didn't notice - but one look from Chrissy Cunningham and she had. If your heart wasn't broken before, it was now.

You nodded despite the pain swelling in your chest, "Yeah, no, no I'm fine - I should've just called. It's not a big deal, I'm sorry again, um, good night, Chrissy, um, yeah - just, yeah, have a nice night."

She nodded, "You, too. I hope you feel better, I'll tell Eddie you stopped by."

You trusted that she would, returning home and with petals still sticking to your tongue, charged into your mother's room. She sat up in her bed in shock - late night shifts taking their toll and leaving her sleep deprived. This was her first weekend off in months, and you felt terrible for interrupting her, but you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You needed your mother. You needed her more than ever before because your fear was tangible, and you weren't ready to die.

See, thing is, your mother was borderline your best friend (besides Eddie, that is). She and your father had been high school sweethearts, married, and he died in a tragic car accident on the night your mother was going to tell him she was pregnant on their first wedding anniversary. She never dated, she never brought a man home, she only focused on you. When you got older, she figured she could work more and you were happy to support her; taking up more house chores to save her from any unnecessary stress.

It was just you and your mother... Until Eddie, then, he was a constant presences at your dinner table. He had his own Christmas stocking your mother knitted. His favorite snacks kept in a stocked up supply for whenever he chooses to visit. And you and your mother would spend an entire day baking a cake for his birthday before hosting a full meal for him and his Uncle Wayne.

Your mother never had an issue with doing any of that because she was grateful for Eddie being in your life. It made her feel as if you'd never be alone.

However, you now felt like a burden, but the moment your mother clocked your tears and trembling hands clutching bloody tissues, she was beckoning you to her chest and begging you to tell her what was wrong as she rocked you soothingly.

So, you confessed. Everything.

From that night in 7th grade when you saw Eddie mesmerized by Chrissy Cunningham for the first time. That being the night you coughed out petals... And how everything changed and got worse from there on, and you didn't understand what was wrong, why you were suffering.

You told her about how you were now coughing out the full thorny blooms, how the bleeding wouldn't stop; how the pain was festering, spreading, and suffocating your heart, mind, and soul.

You told her about tonight... What you saw... How nice the cheerleader had been, how you couldn't find it in your heart to hate her, and how you didn't know what to do anymore.

You told her how Eddie didn't notice anymore - he couldn't see you - because he could only see Chrissy, and it was slowly killing you.

It took all night to explain, and your mother sat you at the kitchen table. She made you hot tea and plated a few cookies - talking well through the night and into the morning. She wanted to understand everything and as the sun breached the horizon, she was encouraging you to tell Eddie how you felt after reading the same book you had that explained the disease you suffered from.

You told her she was crazy, but she begged you to at least try. She validated that you had the right idea in going to his trailer; she thought that you and Eddie had always been cute, that you'd make a great couple; and though your sense of style had changed again (after it didn't get Eddie's attention, like you'd hoped), she still thought you two complimented each other well. "You balance each other, my dove," she whispered. "Tell him. Please, for your own sake."

So, you bucked up the courage to tell him on Monday. You'd see him at school and couldn't back down, leaving it neutral grounds for you both to be honest and open in. Or, so you hoped.

That morning, you caught Eddie before he could enter the school and asked to talk to him. "Shit, I meant to call you, doll," he breathed, looking at you with concern. "Chrissy said you were upset and showed up at my door - are you okay? What was wrong? I'm sorry I wasn't there."

So, when Chrissy points it out, he pays attention. Instead, you just answered, "It's okay, I'm okay. Um, c-can we go talk? Privately?"

"Of course, yeah, c'mon," he agreed, leading you to the lesser-populated hallway to slip into the old drama classroom that now posed as the Hellfire Club room. Eddie sat on his throne but leaned forward on his knees to hold your hands as you took time to think over in your mind what you wanted to say.

"Eddie," you whispered. "I-I just really need to tell you something, and you have to promise not to hate me after."

He nodded, "I could never hate you, pretty girl, and you know you can tell me anything."

"Right," you sniffled. "Well, um, listen, I just want you to know that I-I value this friendship more than anything, and never want to jeopardize it..."

"Okay, now you're scaring me," Eddie chuckled. His hands squeezed yours, encouraging, "C'mon, sweetheart, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You nodded, blurting, "I'm in love with you."

Only the silence stretched between you two like an oversized bubble of Hubba Bubba - popping as your words registered in his mind. His eyes just shot between both of yours, mouth opening to form a word before sighing and shaking his head. Panic and fear gripped your heart, lungs, and mind in a tighter vice than the white chrysanthemums' roots.

"You can't be," he finally whispered brokenly.

A record scratched in your head, "What?"

"You can't be in love with me," his head shook as he repeated his statement. "No, no, you - you can't be."

"Why can't I be? Is it that hard to imagine?"

"Because you're my best friend - you're supposed to be my best friend!" He looked spooked, startled, unsure, and like he was going to have an anxiety attack. "You can't be in love with me, you're just - no!"

"Well, I didn't exactly plan it."

"Just - stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop loving me!"

"You don't think I've tried!?"

"Try harder!"

"For fuck's sake, Eddie! You don't think this is hard enough?"

"Well, it'd be easier if you had some kind of restraint!" He snipped, wiping a hand down his mouth. "Shit, I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?"

"I-I don't know!"

"Well, why tell me?"

You gulped, fearing telling him the truth now. Instead, you just whispered, "I-I take it you don't feel the same?"

"Shit, sweetheart," he sniffled, shaking his head, "y-you know I love you but... But no, I-I'm not in love with you."

You nod slowly, blinking even slower, "No?"

"I'm so sorry - fuck, God damn it."

"It's not your fault," you promised. "I-I didn't mean for this to happen, okay? I swear, I didn't want to do this, I never wanted things to change between us."

He nodded sadly, "I get that, I do, but I think I need time to think."

"Wait, what? Think about what, Eddie? L-Like - you need to think about us? You need time to think about us?" You squeaked, panic swelling. You started to cough lightly, that sticky feeling clogging your throat again.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Because I'm with Chrissy and I don't think she would like... This."

Now you understood... "So, because you're dating Chrissy, you can't be friends with me? We've been friends forever, Eddie, why does this have to change things?"

"Because you're in love with me! I didn't want you to be, you were supposed to be my friend. Just my friend!"

"I'm sorry it happened, but why does this mean we can't still be friends? I've dealt with it this long, I can go longer - "

"Because I'm in love with Chrissy, and can't do this to her! For fuck's sake, why'd you have to do this, huh? Why'd you have to fall in love with me right when I got a girlfriend - "

"It didn't just happen, Eddie, I've been in-love with you since middle school! But notice how we stayed friends! Please - please, we can stay friends, this doesn't have to change anything."

He shook his head, standing abruptly, "It changes everything. I gotta go - I just can't be here, I'm sorry."

"Eddie! Please! Wait, just wait, please, let me explain!" You begged, watching him flee the room; the door slamming in an echo around you and forcing the tears teetering in your waterline to fall pathetically. You felt your heart nailing you to the floor, tears falling numbly down your cheeks; hands shaking and coughing getting worse. Your hands finally found feeling again and rose, covering your mouth and nose to catch the splatter.

You hacked as your lungs shriveled to expel whatever clogged them, falling to your knees and needed to use two fingers to reach in the back of your throat to pull a full floral bloom out; blood dripping off of it and from your mouth to soak into the old, dingy carpet. The thorns pierced your finger pads when you rolled the short stem between them, the flower falling into the puddle of blood you'd spat out.

Stumbling to your feet, you kept a tissue in hand and covering your mouth; the material slowly saturating as you punched your mother's number in the outside payphone.

"Mom?" You begged into the receiver, wheezing and sobbing through the pain. Everything had changed, again. "I-I need you to take me to the hospital. Please, Mommy, i-it's hurts. 'S blood everywhere, an-and the pain - Mommy, please, it hurts so bad."

Your mother was pulling up in a skidding halt within 6 minutes. Her rubber tires burned over the pavement, slight smoke wafting into the air to indicate not just her speed, but her harsh stop when she saw your body bolting towards her.

From the side of the school, moments before the first bell rang, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler watched you fully sprint for the car and how fast your mother pulled off, sharing an uneasy look before darting for the same payphone and calling Steve Harrington.

But they couldn't find you all over town, opting to wait at your house instead. They only waited for about an hour before your mother's car was pulling into the driveway.

"You gonna tell them?" Your mom muttered, smiling and waving at the three teenagers.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Doctors said keeping it a secret doesn't make it easier, right?"

She nodded, "For whatever it's worth, my dove, I think you're making the right decision. This took a lot of bravery, but you're going to get better, and you're going to feel better, too."

"I know," you whispered with a watery smile. "Just gonna suck until Thursday."

"I'll call the school, you're gonna be out for recovery for at least 2 weeks."

"Don't forget my post-op appointment," you nodded.

"Right," she agreed, opening her door and triggering you to follow suit. "Hey, kids," she beamed at your worried friends.

They greeted her politely (but enthusiastically) before she was excusing herself and heading for the house. It left you to stand before the three people, who, up until a few years ago, you wouldn't have imagined being real friends with.

Technically, you and Nancy Wheeler had been friends since before Eddie; Robin and Steve coming into your life through inter-dimensional circumstances before choosing to stick around.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked first, looking the most worried. "We saw you running from school and thought something was wrong."

"So, you blew off school to stalk my house?" you teased lightly, trying to alleviate the pain settling on your heart after leaving the hospital.

"Exactly," Robin crossed her arms. "You ran like something was chasing you - we knew something was wrong. What is it? A-Are you okay? I mean, you looked pretty spooked, we were afraid something else came back - you know - "

"Okay, Robin, yeah," you chuckled lightly, interrupting her rapid words. "Um, I appreciate the concern, but it could've waited."

"Not when you've been acting funny for months now," Nancy shook her head. "Don't think we haven't noticed; you're skinnier, you look like you haven't slept in weeks, you carry tissues around like you're paid for it... What's up with you?"

"And I've clocked the constant nose bleeds," Steve nodded, arms folding against his chest. "Look, if something's going on, you're going to need friends through it, and we're willing to take on the job."

Your heart swelled slightly and you nodded, blinking quickly to keep the tears down. "Um, yeah... Yeah," you sniffled, looking up at them as the emotion couldn't be kept out of your voice, "something's going on, and um... I-I think I would like to tell you guys about it. Do you mind waiting in the backyard? I've gotta grab a book from inside, trust me, it can explain some things better than I can."

Nancy looked nervous as her fingers twisted together; Robin nodding before nudging her along. Steve shifted on his feet and dropped his arms, clearing his throat, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nodded with a whisper. "Just hang tight."

He nodded with crinkled brows of concern, heading off behind the two girls as you bolted for the front door. Your mother was heard in her room, on the phone, and you dropped your school bag on your bed, snatched up the library book you checked out every year, and made for your backyard.

As kids, you and Nancy loved hanging out here because it was spacious, and your mother had a beautiful garden with patio furniture nestled amongst the greenery. At the white-washed table, Steve, Nancy, and Robin waited together, muttering quietly, and left you to take your seat.

Sighing, you opened the book and slid it forward; Nancy's hands darting to pick it up and read swiftly as you began your tale. After voicing everything to your mother, you had a better idea of how to word it all; starting with when you realized you had a crush on Eddie in the 5th grade, how it festered in middle school, and when you realized you'd only be friends - so, you kept it that way.

You told them about the tiny bits of torn up petals, then how they became intact. Next, you explained how things got worse for you; blooms being coughed out with blood, how Eddie crushed majorly on Chrissy, and then to how everything hit rock bottom.

You explained the petals changed into full blooms, sprouting thorns as you stuffed your feelings deeper inside your cracked heart. You explained the constant pain, the confusion, the sleeplessness, showed them the cuts on your lips and in your mouth; even picking a leftover petal from the inside of your cheek to prove your point.

Steve's hand deftly reached out to examine it.

You explained the mental anguish of loving someone who couldn't love you back; the anguish of being so close - yet so far; and the anguish of knowing you were being killed from the inside, out because you couldn't let go of your overwhelming feelings for Eddie 'the Freak' Munson.

Then... You told them about Chrissy and Eddie at his trailer when you went to tell him the truth. How you confided in your mother for the first time in years. How you were encouraged to tell Eddie - and how it royally backfired, which lead you to today.

To your decision.

To your appointment at the hospital that your mother bullied administration into giving you last minute.

To meeting the cardiothoracic surgeon that diagnosed you with, as the library book highlighted, Hanahaki Disease.

Steve had tears in his eyes; elbows bent on the tabletop to keep his folded hands in front of his mouth, like he was physically suppressing his emotion with the petal laid to the table. Robin stared at you the whole time, never once making you feel as if you were talking to thin air; brows crinkled and perked at appropriate moments, never interrupting.

Nancy had read the entire passage before slamming the book down and letting her tears fall. She listened intently as you explained to the three that you had to choose one of three options, and immediately after that, you told them you had come to a decision.

You'd made the appointment and you were to under the knife that Thursday before returning in two weeks for a post-op check-up that would ensure all of the blooms were cleared from your lungs. And after today, you had discovered the plants were creeping up your esophagus and if you waited, soon, it would kill you.

"Well, why're you upset?" Robin asked gently, reaching for your hand. "This is good, right? Y-You'll be cured!"

You nodded in agreement, but it was Nancy voicing, "She'll forget Eddie completely."

"What?" Steve asked, looking between you and Nancy urgently. "Are you serious?"

"It's the only contingency in exchange for my life," you nodded.

"You've been friends forever," he shook his head, leaning back. "No, I just - I can't believe him. He doesn't love you back? That's just bullshit - c'mon!"

"Steve - "

"No, seriously!" he cut Robin off, her hand tightening in mine. "We've all seen how he looks at you, how he behaves! It doesn't make sense, it's not possible. He's just scared," his head shook still, looking angry with pinched brows. "He's scared and he's not thinking."

"No, Stevie," you whispered, "he understands, and trust me, he doesn't feel the same. It's okay."

"You'll forget your best friend," Steve shook his head. "That's not okay."

"It's a small price to pay, right?"

Nancy nodded, "If it means you're out of pain, and you won't die, yeah, I'd say it's a reasonable price to pay."

You agreed, "It's gonna be okay, but I'll be in recovery until the surgeon okay's me to return to school and normal activity."

"Will you remember why you need the surgery?" Robin wondered.

"Apparently not," you shrugged.

For the next few days, you remained at home and prepared for your operation. Your mother worked extra shifts because she was taking Thursday through TBD in order to take care of you, and your friends visited you everyday.

Nobody spoke of Eddie, who had asked Robin that Wednesday where you were - only to receive a fierce glare and slammed locker in his face. Chrissy's brows furrowed at the aggression, worrying something was wrong with you if your friends were shunning Eddie. She reminded him of how upset you'd been when you showed up at his trailer, his mind flashing to when he found a bloodied white chrysanthemum in the Hellfire room after he left you when you confessed your feelings for him.

He knew that was why you showed up at his trailer that night, and his heart constricted as he grew cold in your absence. He had to admit, if you've had these feelings since middle school, you never let it interfere with your friendship and he was a fool for blowing up at you.

Could it really be that hard to love you? Was the idea that far fetched?

The day of your surgery, your mother and you pushed out of your front door at 4 am to make it to the hospital for pre-op; blood work; all the standard procedures that needed done before you were sliced open and roots carved out of your lungs. And to your honest shock? Steve Harrington was waiting on the street, leaning on his car, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old hoodie.

"What're you doing here?" You wondered, oblivious to your mother's knowing smirk.

Steve shrugged lightly, "Figured you'd want a familiar face around, and Nance and Robin have tests in school today - otherwise, they'd be here, too."

"'Too'?" You repeated with a soft smile.

"Yeah, well, I-I'd still be here," he nodded. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding with a soft smile. "I think I'd really appreciate the, um..."

"Support? Comfort? Seeing my pretty face when you wake up from anesthesia?" He grinned.

"All of the above, Harrington, c'mon," you chuckled, waving him with you. In your mother's car, she kept conversation light as a distraction when your nerves flared the closer you drove to the hospital; the boy in the back doing his best to chime in charmingly. Steve was allowed to stay with you once in the pre-op procedure room (again, your mother bullied hospital admin into letting him stay), and cracked a few really poor jokes while needles were poked into your skin.

Medicine was administered, your hair stuffed into a surgical cap, vitals taken for a final time - and then it was time to go.

When you were wheeled away, Steve squeezed your hand and your mother kissed your forehead; both wishing you luck, reminding you of your brave decision, and sent you down the sterile hallway. While staring up at the blinding, florescent lights of the operating room, a gas mask was placed over your mouth and the anesthesiologist instructing you to count backward from ten... And your heart begged you to change your mind.

Begged you not to erase Eddie. Begged you to jump off that table.

But your mind told only your tongue to move, and you counted, "Ten."

Eddie's soft hair through your fingers, "Nine."

Eddie's stupid grin when he's showing you a new guitar riff he'd mastered, "Eight."

Eddie's laugh, "Seven."

The warmth of Eddie's hugs, "Six."

His hands holding your cheeks, thumbs sweeping to clear your tears as he would coo to you, trying to calm you down, "...Five..."

"She's out," the doctors nodded to one another; scalpels clinking over the sterile table, machines beeping to indicate vital readings, and rubber gloves snapped into place as your hospital gown was peeled away, and disinfecting betadine squirted over your skin.

Across town, in the hallways of Hawkins High, Eddie was pacing by your locker. He looked disheveled, not himself; confused and scared, by what Robin could judge.

"What're you doing here?" she shot venomously, using her hand to push his chest and force him back a step from your locker.

"Where is she?" he begged. "Please, Robin, I know she's hurt - I know I hurt her, but I have to talk to her an-and she hasn't been at school all week. Please - I have to talk to her."

She used your combination to open your locker and set the packet of missed work inside for her to pick up at the end of the day, sneering, "It's too late."

"No, it's not - "

"No, seriously, Eddie," she snapped, the locker slamming in an echo. "It's too late for you. She's let you go, time for you to do the same."

For two weeks, Eddie repeated the last words he'd said to you, how broken you looked when he said he didn't love you. The words you said to him, then how you weren't seen again, to that bloody flower he found, and how Robin, Nancy, and Steve were all giving him the cold shoulder. He thought over what went wrong and every single way he was going to make it up to you, because while he might be in love with Chrissy Cunningham, there was never replacing you - and he needed you.

Eddie needed you.

And his heart sunk to his stomach as he realized how bitter he's turned; shunning Chrissy, becoming testy, canceling Hellfire, and missing you to the point he was tugging his hair out of his scalp and chain smoking cigarettes.

Loving you was easy and maybe he's loved you longer than he's known - longer than he ever wanted to admit. But missing you was hard, and Eddie wasn't accustomed to it.

It was supposed to be easy between you two, but when you confessed your feelings, Eddie felt everything become messy and change. Eddie Munson wasn't very good with change. He missed your laugh, he missed your comfort, a few times he'd even looked up to his bed when he mastered a new guitar riff - and feeling his heart sink in disappointment when he only saw Chrissy.

Granted, she was smiling at him, but it wasn't your smile. Tears filled his eyes when he realized he spent every Friday with Chrissy, finding new ways to impress the cheerleader, and feeling crushed when he remembered he never needed to impress you. You were always proud of him, you always encouraged him, and with a single look, you could say more than ever opening your mouth.

Eddie needed you, and he had ruined any chance of loving you properly. But Edward Munson was stubborn and not willing to give up, not until you were beating him off with a stick. The two of you had been friends forever and he knew you had some fights, but one way or another, someone was always apologizing and together, you could move past the issue. So, until you were telling him to fuck off, he was going to try - because you had never given up on him.

Two weeks of nothing. Two weeks of your home's voicemail. Two weeks of nobody answering the front door. Two weeks of confusion, heartache, and stress. Two weeks of smoking packs of cigarettes, of snapping at Chrissy, of praying to a God he's never prayed to before.

When he saw you that Friday, Eddie's heart leapt into his throat and he gave a strangled gasp before sprinting across the carpark to make it to your side. You were surrounded by Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, all three piling out of Steve Harrington's car - who now leaned on his driver's door, mid-conversation - and he thought you looked more beautiful than ever.

The weight you've lost had slowly built back up now that you weren't constantly vomiting. Your head had cleared, your heart feeling lighter than ever before, your veins racing with helium, and the bags under your eyes had cleared. In fact, your eyes looked clearer than they ever had, and your skin was practically glowing.

God did you look good.

Eddie panted your name, coming to a skidding halt as Steve pushed off his car and looked at you with worry.

Why would Harrington need to worry about you?

"Oh, uh, hi there?" you nodded at him, tugging your binder closer to your chest and sending a cautious look to Robin.

But Eddie's heart was in his throat, "I-I need to talk to you, please."

To his horror, you shook your head, "Um, I don't think we actually have anything to talk about."

"What? No, we have so much to discuss, please, I know I was a jackass and you don't deserve that - "

"Wait, hang on, I-I'm sorry. You don't understand, we don't have anything to talk about," you chuckled weakly, "because I don't know you."

Ice shot into Eddie's veins, stuttering, "W-What? Th-That's not funny, doll, don't joke like that."

You looked at Nancy for support, whispering in a small, panicked voice, "I don't know him, do I, Nance? I don't think I know him."

"No, honey," Nancy assured, smiling softly at you before glaring at Eddie. "He's just a classmate."

Eddie knew Nancy was protective of you but what the hell was going on? What kind of a sick prank was this? Look, Eddie knew he's pulled some mean jokes in his life but this? This wasn't mean, it was cruel, and he didn't find it funny in the least bit.

"What? No - what the hell are you guys talking about?" Eddie begged, looking between the four teenagers. "Sweetheart, it's me - it's Eddie. It's your Eddie, please, what do you mean you don't know me - what's going on? This isn't funny, sweetheart, please, okay? Look, we've known each other a decade, right, how can you - how can you not know me?"

"I'm really sorry, um... Eddie? Was it Eddie?"

His heart shattered, shards stinging as they were pumped through the rest of his body. "Sweetheart, no, please, I just... I'm so sorry, but this isn't funny - "

"Look, I'm really sorry, but this isn't a joke, I really don't know you," your head shook. "And I would remember someone I've known a decade - right?" You asked Nancy again, looking nervous. "I-I don't know him, but he knows me. Nancy, I-I don't understand, I don't know what's wrong. Is something wrong with me?"

"No, honey," she rushed to speak, sending Steve a pointed look when stress made your eyes shine. "You're okay, you're okay, it's okay."

"Okay, hey, hey, hey, okay," Steve stepped in, pushing Eddie back a few steps. "You need to back off, you're upsetting her."

"I'm upsetting her?" he repeated, tears collecting as his feet tried to plant against Steve's force. "She doesn't remember me - "

"Back off, dude," Steve warned.

"I'm really sorry," you called to him, genuine look of distorted pain over your face. "I'm sorry," you repeated to Robin and Nancy, "I-I don't know him, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I don't know what's wrong, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey, breathe, okay? It's all fine, it's all good, you're okay, I promise, just try to focus on breathing," Robin assured, hand rubbing circles over your back.

"No! Baby! You do know me!" Eddie begged over Steve's shoulder as Nancy turned you away. "Please! No! You know me, baby! Don't do this, please, please, I need you! Sweetheart - please! I need you, and I'm so sorry for what I said! Don't do this! No, please, I-I'm sorry!"

His heart glued itself back together just to shatter once again when Robin took your books to let your hands slap over your ears to block him out as Nancy directed you away - Steve still pushing Eddie back.

"Dude!" Steve snapped with anger coloring his iris' a darker shade, "You're fucking upsetting her!"

"Steve, please - "

"No," Steve shook his head. "You had your chance, and it's too late. Okay? Leave her alone, she doesn't remember and doesn't need you trying to 'remind' her when it's already done, dude. Okay? It's done."

"What the hell does that mean? Please, Steve, I need her - she's my best friend and I can fix this," Eddie begged.

Steve felt fleeting compassion for the other boy, seeing the distress and heartbreak over his face. Steve sighed, glancing back to see you being spoken to softly by Nancy and Robin, assuring you it was okay not to remember the boy with long hair, before turning to look into the eyes that had broken your heart on too many occasions.

"She doesn't remember because you were removed from her memory, Ed, you were just... All of you was removed from her, okay?" Steve sighed finally. "Look, it's hard to explain, but do yourself and her a favor?"

"Anything."

"Go to the library and look this up," he pulled a torn piece of paper from his pocket, handing it over. "It'll explain what was wrong, and you should hopefully be able to piece together why she can't remember you. Don't make this harder, all right? She's finally okay, and you were so sure you didn't want her that it's time for you to be okay without her, too. Don't do this to her, man, you get me?"

"What did I do?" Eddie whispered.

Steve gulped, shaking his head, "You couldn't love her back."

Eddie stood there, piece of paper clutched in his fingertips like the petal of a flower, as Steve turned and headed for you three girls. He lifted his arm to bring you in for a side hug, assuring you that it was okay not to remember - while Eddie stood there, like you had so many times, watching with tears and heartbreak in his eyes.

He didn't go to classes, he obsessively searched books for the Hanahaki Disease Steve told him about; finding his answers, and never finding peace. He had to live everyday watching you really bloom into your own person; becoming more radiant by the passing second, realizing he was draining you of your life before, and how there wouldn't ever be room for him with you now.

When you graduated with an acceptance to your first choice college, you returned home in your cap and gown with a giggling Robin and Nancy; planning on changing and getting ready to hit a few grad parties already. The girls were so excited that you were feeling (and looking) better now that they didn't want to waste anymore time and insisted you all hit a few parties. However, before you could hop up the stairs to your room, a large bouquet of flowers caught your attention.

Sat on your kitchen counter was a thick bouquet of white chrysanthemums. There was no note, no signature, but something in your gut twisted with knowledge. Your fingers reached out to gently stroke the petals before smiling lightly, leaning in to sniff them, and then turn for the stairs to rush up to your bedroom.

All the while across town, a long haired metalhead in a matching green cap and gown, tipped a bottle of Irish whiskey to his lips; a single stemmed white chrysanthemum rolled between his fingers; old polaroid photos scattered around his body on the floor, tears sliding down his cheeks, and regret echoing across his mind.

[call-me-eds]

Chivalry Kills

Masterlist

Eddie x Reader

Angst, fighting, smut, fluff

Eddie is a perfect gentleman to everyone, and it makes you feel invisible to him.

“No, really, guys, I’m fine. Don’t let me get in your way.” You were straining to carry an amp, albeit the smallest amp the band used, to Eddie’s van as they leaned against the back wall of the bar, sipping beers.

“We gotta get you in a weight lifting class,” your boyfriend joked, coming over to help you load the equipment into the car.

“Or maybe you could load your own car. Or pay the freshman you hang around five bucks to do this,” you joked. He lifted his beer bottle to your lips, a small reward for helping out like you always did. 

You were more than happy to do it, needing to get some energy out after watching their high voltage performance every week. Eddie kept telling you that you didn’t need to, he could handle it, but you wouldn’t just sit there and let him do all of the work. He wasn’t even crazy about the idea of you driving to The Hideout by yourself to watch their set. One week he tried to leave after their minimal soundcheck to some and pick you up, but he ended up having to jump right on stage after bursting through the door.

“It’s fine, I am able to get here alone. It’s safe,” you promised him.

“You shouldn’t have to, though.”

Ever the gentleman, Eddie went out of his way to be as gallant as possible. He planned thoughtful dates, tried his hardest to never let you open a door for yourself, and always made sure you were taken care of when you were being intimate. He was constantly sweeping you off your feet. Well, you and every other girl in Hawkins.

It was cute when he gave El, Max, or Erica a piggy back ride. It was endearing when he didn’t let Robin walk on the street side of the sidewalk. It was funny when he hit on Joyce right in front of Hopper.

It was infuriating when he paid every other girl in your age group attention, and stopped trying to impress you.

“You’re chewing right in my ear,” you slightly pushed Eddie away from you, just handing over your lunch that he was picking from. 

“What are you going to eat?” he asked through a mouthful of carrot sticks. 

“I lost my appetite all of a sudden,” you said. He shrugged and continued chomping away and talking with his friends. Despite the hustle and bustle of hungry teenagers, you were able to spot Robin looking around the cafeteria for a familiar face. You tapped Eddie’s arm so he would release his hold on your shoulders. “See you later, okay?”

He sent you off with a slight nod of his head.

“Save me,” you grabbed Robin’s elbow and led her out of the cafeteria with you. She followed without a word, and you two went down to the newspaper room where you knew you would find Nancy.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” she smiled when she saw you. 

“I needed to hide,” you said. “Boys are so annoying.” After a rough morning of sleeping past your alarm and certainly flunking a test, you were in no mood to be spit on or yelled through about fantasy games, shockingly.

“Who got under your skin?” Robin smiled. Neither of them expected it to be Eddie. From what they experienced, he had nothing but good manners. Sure, he picked on Steve, but they both considered that an admirable quality. 

“It’s just been one of those days,” you sighed. “Distract me, tell me what you’re working on,” you asked Nancy, sending her into a spiel you gladly let overtake your thoughts. 

When it was time for the afternoon to officially begin, the three of you walked through the halls together, heading in the same general direction of your next classes. Only a few more left until the end of the day and then beginning of the weekend. You could do this. 

“It is always weird to see them together,” Robin commented, looking down the hall at Eddie, Chrissy, and a few other cheerleaders.

“She’s making his life a lot easier,” you explained, relieved that he was getting terrorized much less, even if he made his way into the good graces of the Hawkins High Elite by selling them drugs.

“Looks like he is, too,” commented Nancy as you all watched him take her books from her arms. You weren’t bothered by it. He was being his normal, generous self. What did bother you, though, was his arm tossed around her shoulder, mouth close to her ear saying something that was making the beautiful girl laugh. They looked like they were floating down the hallway, made lighter by each other’s presence.

“I shouldn’t overreact to that, right?” you asked, starting to fidget with the hair tie around your wrist. “He just doesn’t have to be so touchy. It’s inappropriate, what if she was uncomfortable with that?” you didn’t give them a chance to answer.

The bell rang overhead and made your brain rattle.

“Don’t overthink it,” Nancy stressed, but she saw how your mind was already running away with the minor incident. “We will see you later, be ready by 8!” Right. The party you promised to go to. Usually on Fridays you and Eddie drove around, making pit stops for him to do deals. You liked being in the car with him, passing by the secret night life of teenagers that he was contributing to, but you two were happy to stay on the outskirts of.

With his new friendships, he was coming around to the idea of actually attending one of the parties he served. Nancy wasn’t a stranger to the scene, so she broke you both down, encouraging you to give it a try, even if just for an hour. It had to be better than getting drunk or high by yourselves. Honestly, it was getting kind of sad.

“8 o’clock, got it,” you nodded, going off toward your next class.

The next time you saw Eddie, he was waiting for you by your locker after the last bell had rang.

“Hey, Babe,” he smiled, giving your butt a gentle smack. It wasn’t the most romantic gesture, but your feelings of annoyance from lunch had seriously diminished, and you just wanted to be close to him.

“Hi,” you said, throwing the books you wouldn’t need over the weekend into the metal square and slamming the door shut. “Let’s go,” you grabbed his hand and he squeezed it affectionately.

“We just have to wait for Chrissy, we’re giving her a ride home,” he said. You nodded and let him lead you to her locker, where she was talking to her other friends. They confirmed with you and Eddie that you’d be at the party later, and then the three of you walked into the fresh air like you were the best of friends.

“Ooh, it’s getting cold out,” you complained, frowning at the fall air taking over the town.

“It feels good, this sweater is so hot,” Chrissy said, pulling at the turtle neck uniform she was wearing that day. Eddie turned the air on for her when you all got in the van, making you shiver more intensely than you were outside. 

It didn’t take long for you to get to Chrissy’s house and drop her off. She asked if you wanted to get ready with her for the party, but you honestly couldn’t imagine starting your evening any earlier than you already had to. Her eyes genuinely dropped when you thanked her, but declined, and it almost made you change your mind. But then you remembered Eddie’s hand on her back.

“You’re going to dance with me later, though, right?” she asked, the smile returning to her face.

“Definitely,” you conceded.

“Only if they play something other than the shit on the radio.” Eddie appeared outside of your window, right next to where Chrissy’s hands were draped. You turned around, expecting to somehow see him still sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. He must have gotten out when you were distracted by the cheerleader. With a wave from Chrissy, your boyfriend started to walk her to her front door as if it wasn’t 3 o’clock in the afternoon in a suburban neighborhood. 

When he got back to the car after 7 minutes, you clocked it, of giggling, you were pissed off.

“So what do we want for dinner? I’m sure you’re hungry after giving me your lunch, which i don’t think I ever thanked you for,” Eddie grabbed your fingers and went to bring them to his lips like he did a million times before, but you pulled your hand back.

“I think I just want to relax before the party,” you shrugged. “The math test didn’t go well.” you told him, because he didn’t ask.

“Okay, that sounds good, too. How about we take a nap and-”

“Can you just drop me off and we can meet up later?” you asked, aware of your less than sweet tone. He could tell something was wrong, but chalked it up to the test and knew you’d feel much better if you had some time alone.

What he didn’t count on, though, was your solitude making your anger fester. All you could see was him touching her, her gaggle of friends laughing at his jokes, and the way he had been brushing you off. Eddie made everyone feel so special by doing nice things for them, and you wanted to be the only one on the receiving end. 

By the time you, Robin, and Nancy were approaching the front door of the parentless house, you were practically stomping.

“Relax, Hulk,” Robin teased as you whipped open the front door like someone was hiding behind it.

“I need a drink,” you sighed, heading straight for the kitchen where there were bottles of liquor and a keg. “What do you guys want?” You didn’t wait for an answer, making a strong concoction that you split between three cups, yours a little more full than the others. The drink eased your emotions a bit, and you felt your anger level slowly coming down.

Eddie was set to meet you at the party. Even though you didn’t want to be with him earlier in the day, now you were itching to see him. 

“You keep on looking around like you’re expecting Judd Nelson to walk in,” Nancy said, waving her hand in front of your face. “Let’s go, come on,” she waved her finger so you would follow her to the living room, where people were dancing.

“Y/N!” The high-pitched voice cut through the crowd, and you saw Chrissy bouncing toward you. You recognized how sweet it was that she was trying to get closer to you after becoming friends with your boyfriend, and you wanted to put more of an effort in with her.

“We’re dancing, come on,” you grabbed her wrist and pulled her along with the three of you.

A few months ago, you would have gotten a lot of stares, and not just because of Robin’s off-beat dancing. The cheerleader, the bank geek, the journalist, and the outsider all together. Add the freak into the mix, and it’s a wonder you weren’t put on a poster in a guidance counselor’s office.

“My girls!” Eddie showed up and threw his arms around you and Nancy. 

“Hi,” you grinned, leaning up on your toes and pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth. He winked at you and took your hand, twirling you around. Finally, he was giving you the attention you were craving.

Just as quickly as he gave you butterflies, he opened the window and shooed them out. There were only a couple of blissful minutes until it took a turn. 

It was common knowledge that Chrissy was single and available, and it didn’t even take half a song for someone to ask her to dance. Understandably, watching your boyfriend give another guy daggers with his stare because he was dancing with his friend didn’t exactly put you in the best of moods.

“He’s getting a little handsy,” he said, loud enough for your group to hear.

“She’s fine,” you said, grabbing his hands and putting them on your waist, trying to get him to focus on you. He nodded and began to bounce back and forth on his feet again, keeping a protective eye on Chrissy.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie leaned down into your ear and nodded toward the back door, where someone was waiting with a $20 bill in hand. You nodded and he walked off, putting on his best salesman face. 

“I’m taking a break,” you said to Nancy and Robin, going into the kitchen. As soon as Eddie came back inside, you were going to grab him for as alone a moment you could get at a house party.

“Hey, you coming to check up on me?” he walked back inside and you wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling you into him.

“Of course, I have to make sure you’re being safe,” you mocked. He laughed and the sound went right to your heart. “So, what do you think of the party?”

“It’s interesting,” he nodded. “I think the last one of these I went to was in the 8th grade, and I played spin the bottle.”

“We can play if you want,” you smiled. He picked up an abandoned beer bottle on the counter and tipped it towards you before leaning in. As soon as your lips met, your hands went to his hair, playing with the curls. Even though you were surrounded by your peers, you felt like you were the only two people in the room. You went to lift yourself up on the counter, but Eddie twisted around so he was leaning against the countertop.

Your hands moved underneath his shirt and he tugged you closer, mouthing against your neck. 

“Eddie,” you laughed, getting shy and pulling away. “Eddie!” His mouth was still open, as were his eyes. While he was kissing you, his eyes were trained on his friend in the living room, who was preoccupied with a boy herself. His eyes snapped to you and he knew he had been caught.

“Uh-”

“What, did you need a better view?” you slammed your palms against his chest and he tried to grab your hands, but you ripped them away. 

“Sweetheart-”

“No,” you snapped, spinning around and storming away. You thought you’d be able to get through the party despite your nerves and apprehension, and that Eddie’s presence along with your friends’ would keep you safe. The day was horrible from the beginning, you should have just stayed in bed.

“Woah, woah, what’s happening?” Robin and Nancy saw you fly by and followed, despite you holding up your hand to keep them at bay.

The cool night air shocking your system and your high emotions became too much to handle, and your breath became shallow. You were shocked to see that Chrissy had followed them outside.

“I’m okay, I’m fine,” you calmed your friends, although your shaky voice gave you away. 

“Look, it’s fine, I’m going to go inside, call Steve, and we’ll be on our way home in five minutes,” Robin said, going to rush back into the house. 

“No, I don’t want to ruin the night,” you shook your head. “I just need a minute, I promise,” you said, but their watchful eyes weren’t leaving you for a second, not even blinking.

“Want me to go find Eddie? Is he still finishing his deal?” Chrissy asked. They saw how your eyes went dark and your panic turned to rage. “Okay, not Eddie.”

“Chrissy?” The four of you turned around and saw the boy you had all just become acquainted with, the one that was dancing with Chrissy. “Are you ladies okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” she smiled. “You said you drove here, right?”

“DD tonight,” he nodded. “Are you sure you’re alright, do you need me to take you somewhere?”

“Let’s go home,” Chrissy nodded, taking your hand. You understood why Eddie liked her. They were two peas in a pod: protective.

“Can you go tell Eddie?” you asked Nancy.

“Tell Eddie what?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. “Are you okay?” He was looking around at the four of you, but his eyes stopped when they locked with yours. You felt like he was looking right into your heart, and could see that it was hurting.

“We’re going home,” Robin said, maybe the most assertive you had ever heard her. 

“Alright, let’s go,” he swept his arm out so you would all start to walk to his car, but you stayed put.

“Bob is taking us home,” you told him.

“Rob,” he cleared his throat and corrected you. 

“No,” Eddie said. “I will take you all home.” Again, you all stood your ground. “Y/N,” he frowned at you.

“I will call you when I am cooled off and ready to talk,” you said, turning around and starting to walk away. You heard the scurried footsteps of your friends behind you, and a soft “Sorry, man” from Rob.

The ride home was silent, which you were thankful for. The energy was buzzing around you with everyone wanting to ask what happened and how they could help.

There was nothing they could do. You knew you had to talk to Eddie, but you didn’t want to have to do that. He was so perceptive of everyone and everything going on, but he didn’t take into account how his reactions to outside circumstances made you feel.

The following afternoon, you still weren’t ready to talk to Eddie. However, when your phone started to ring, you knew he was on the other end. You also knew that if you didn’t answer, he would probably show up.

“Hello?” you tried to hide the angry inflection in your voice, but it was impossible.

“Great, so the stranger you went home with didn’t murder you,” he bit across the line. It was from worry, it came from concern. 

“Yep,” you nodded. “I’m still not ready to talk to you, so I am going to hang up.” He should consider himself lucky that you were giving him that much of a notice instead of just ending the call.

“Babe, come on,” he sighed. You wanted to give in, and not have to tell him how hurt your ego was, but if you let the feelings fester, it would be so much more detrimental.

“Later,” you said. This time, you did not give him a warning, just hung the phone back up on the receiver. 

You were most confused that Eddie didn’t think this was a big deal. He was kissing you and looking at another girl. Pushing you to the side, again, to put his attention on someone else that didn’t need him. You couldn’t help but feel like you were falling through the cracks in his life, and it was soul crushing. He was number one for you, and you were low on the list of people he felt he needed to keep in line.

Eddie had to be in control. If he knew that everyone was okay and that he was a part of that, then he wouldn’t lose anyone. Everyone and everything would stay exactly how it was, which was good. He was so busy concerned with everyone else he didn’t realize that you were dipping under his radar, and treating you less and less like a girlfriend.

When the dust of your mind settled, and you knew the point you wanted to get across, you started walking to Eddie’s. He would be home now, you were sure. And if you needed to leave, then you could. You were going to be the one in control now.

You knocked on the front door, and it opened a moment later. Eddie had the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, the cord tangled around his wrist.

“I gotta go, okay?” he moved aside and you walked in, sitting in Uncle Wayne’s recliner. There needed to be some physical space between you two for the conversation to stick. You would both melt away if you were caressing or could look too deeply into each other’s eyes. “If you can’t get a ride, just call.” You heard the phone hang up and Eddie came into view in the small living room.

“Hi,” your voice was low. The last time you used it was on the phone with Eddie hours ago. He sat on the couch across from you and leaned his arms on his thighs, immediately starting to tap his foot.

“I am so angry at you, Y/N.” This was not how you expected the conversation to start. Groveling, sniveling, and begging was more in line. “You just left last night! With no explanation or no clue to where you were going. That guy doesn’t even go to our school, he could have been anyone!”

“What are you, my father?” you asked. “I don’t have to report my location to you, Eddie.” He scoffed, sending your blood pressure through the roof.

“I don’t care how pissed off you are, you can’t just do that. And taking our friends along with you? I mean, come on.” That was the last nail in his coffin.

“Oh, we want to talk about everyone else? How about how you walk Chrissy to her door like you just took her out on a date? Or how cute and cuddly you two looked walking in the hallway, whispering in each other's ears? Or how about how you were fucking looking at her when you were kissing me last night?” you stood up and were digging your fingernails into your palms, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Is that what you’re so mad about? Chrissy? We are friends, Y/N, she is doing everything she can to extend an olive branch to you,” he remained seated, hoping to bring down your energy level and contain the conversation.

“Oh my God, no,” you groaned, putting your hands over your face. He wasn’t absorbing a word you were saying. “You are so busy worrying about everyone else that you’re treating them like your girlfriend and me like someone you just met off the street.” Your breathing was getting heavier and your voice caught in your throat. It didn’t feel good to be saying these things, you didn’t want to hurt him, He needed to know how his actions were affecting you.

“What are you talking about? I am always looking out for you all and-”

“You’re supposed to be treating me special, Eddie!” Finally, it came out. You didn’t come with the intention of saying that, you weren’t even sure if you really knew that’s how you were feeling. “You care so deeply about everyone and I am left behind. Don’t let me keep you trapped in this relationship if you just want to be friends.” A tear rolled down your cheek as your deepest fears came to the surface.

“What? Y/N, no,” he got up and kneeled on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hands after you didn’t recoil away. You couldn’t meet his eyes, keeping your stare trained on his fingers slotted between yours. 

It was sad that you hadn’t felt this close to him in weeks. Every time you looked at him his eyes were trained on someone else. Dates were cut short to give someone a ride, meals were shared so no one spent their evening alone, and kisses were shared while he was looking at his gorgeous friend.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

“I just, I need a little more from you. Or just all of you every once in a while, you’re breaking yourself off into pieces to give to everyone and I get what’s left over,” you explained. Finally, you lifted your gaze to look at him, and he was listening along like you were telling him the secret to eternal life.

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I’ve been horrible to you,” he sighed. You didn’t want to make him feel bad, everything that was making you upset was coming from how much he cared for other people.

“Eddie, you haven’t been horrible.”

“Look at the way I’ve been making you feel. I mean, I love you, and I haven’t been showing you,” he gripped your hands tighter. Your brain went on pause. 

He loved you? You two hadn’t spoken those words to each other yet. Eddie didn’t even realize what he had said, just kept rambling on with his apology. No matter how nervous you were to bring everything up to him, you were happy that you did. Even though there were a lot of times where actions spoke so much louder than words, Eddie’s acts of love for everyone in your lives didn’t diminish how he felt for you. 

Why had you ever doubted it in the first place? He brought you into his life so fully, letting you take up the space by his side. You learned about his D&D strategies, he was receptive to getting some help in school for maybe the first time ever, and he opened up to you. He didn’t need to make grand, sweeping gestures. The issue wasn’t the wonderful, selfless, enchanting things that he was doing for everyone; the issue was that you didn’t see the meaning in the small things he only did for you.

“-and maybe I just don’t know how to have friends. I’m still learning that and how to be an actual, real boyfriend. I’m sorry,” he said again. You didn’t say anything, just tugged his hands in your direction so he was close enough for you to kiss him.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, pulling away from his shocked face for just a second before going back towards him. You pressed your lips to his in quick succession, trying to get him to respond, but he was frozen.

“I’m confused,” he said once you had put more than an inch of space between you.

“I love how kind you are to everyone in your life, and I’m sorry that I didn’t understand. I love you,” you repeated.

“Jesus, that’s what I thought you said,” he was the one to surge forward this time, collecting you in his arms and moving you closer to the edge of the recliner you were still in. “I’m going to be better,” he promised.

“Me, too,” you brushed his hair out of his face tenderly, and he put his hands over yours again. “I know you weren’t trying to ignore me. You’re not built for that.” A blush reached his cheeks and grew down his neck. 

“No, I’m built just for you,” he said. The cheesiness of the line didn’t make you giggle like it normally would, because you believed it now with your entire heart. 

“Come on,” you whispered, grabbing his hand and going to his room that you had become familiar with. 

The sex you’d been having was fun and boisterous, you didn’t cross into emotional. That was another level you hadn’t reached yet, not until tonight. 

Eddie didn’t get the pleasure of taking off your first layer of clothing, you threw off your sweater while you were still in the doorway. 

“Let me,” he said when you brought your hands to the bottom hem of your t-shirt. You nodded and he slowly dragged the cotton up your torso, trying to keep eye contact with you until he got the neckline stuck on your necklace. The small blunder took the edge off of the seriousness in the mood, and you laughed until he freed you and you could see him again.

“There you are,” you breathed. He gave you a close-lipped smile, bashful. “My turn.” The hand-me-down flannel he had on was worn-in and impossibly soft. The buttons slipped through their holes like butter despite your shaking hands.

You sat down on the edge of his bed and started to untie the strings on his sweatpants. Eddie had been happy to continue picking them up everytime they dropped below his hips every minute, but he liked when you subconsciously tied and untied the bow when you were relaxing on the couch. 

While he was thinking of your gentle hands working the material, he felt them suddenly massaging over the bulge that was not so well hidden by his boxers. The cool air coming from his open window was the only thing stopping him from breaking out into a sweat once those hit the floor, too, and he was fully naked.

Your hand was slow, wanting everything to be as enjoyable as possible. This wasn’t drunk sex after a night with the band, this was making love. There was lube in the drawer, you bought a new tube last week, but you spit as graciously as you could onto your hand, getting the base of his shaft wet while your mouth worked on the rest. 

Unlike his voice, Eddie’s whining was high-pitched. Just as you had done for him earlier, he gently moved strands of hair off of your cheeks. He wasn’t concerned with them being in your way, he just wanted to look at you. He could only handle it for a minute.

“Baby, you gotta stop,” he said. You knew it, too, could feel the way his thighs were starting to shake and the amount of precum leaking out of him. He popped out of your mouth, and you were moving backwards on the bed so he could lay over you. The eye contact was intense while he worked on the button of your jeans, but it wasn’t scary. It felt safe.

“I love you,” he pressed the words into your mouth with his. The tension in your body had been displaced, and you were pliant against him. His tongue moved against yours with the same rhythm of where his hand found your chest. You sat up to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, but the moment Eddie was able to fit his hand between your back and the bed, he had already gotten it undone.

Normally, you would have made a comment about him having a suspicious amount of skill and he would have bit back, but the only thing coming out of your mouth was soft groans.

“Please, Eddie,” you begged. For what, you’re not entirely sure. You already had all of him, in any way that you wanted him. He would make sure that was never a doubt in your mind again.

He nodded, knowing what you meant even if you didn’t, and separated from you for just a moment to pull the denim off of your legs, turning them inside out in the process. You shimmied your underwear down your legs in what you were positive was extremely unsexy, but Eddie looked like it was the most R-rated thing he’d ever seen.

His knees hit the floor in front of you for a second time that day, but now instead of taking hold of your hands, he gripped your ankles and hooked them over his shoulders. Chapped lips sponged your thighs equally until there was nothing left to kiss but the middle, and Eddie didn’t hesitate for a second.

You sucked in a breath as his tongue began to wiggle it’s way between your soft folds. One hand was placed on your stomach, keeping you pinned gently to the bed, and the other was sneaking unsuspectingly to join his mouth. 

“Oh,” your eyes almost went to the back of your head while Eddie’s were on your face. He tried not to smile, because then he’d have to stop suckling on your clit. Somehow, he was able to apply the same exact pressure as his fingers swiping inside of you, unnecessarily getting you ready for him. There were times when you loved the sting that a lack of foreplay allowed, but his confession relaxed you that you knew he would meet no hesitation.

The both of you could sense that there couldn’t be another minute before you were fully connected, so Eddie made his way back up your body while you reached over to grab a condom from the value box he had gotten.

“It’s a good investment,” he had said when you first saw it, and he was right. 

He ripped the packet open with his teeth and shoved his fingers inside much less gently than he had with you. Your feet gently ran up and down his legs, needing to be close to him.

“Okay,” he said softly, leaning over you. His weight was on one arm, while the other snaked between you where you couldn’t see. When the tip of his cock was brought to your entrance, you felt like you were an opposing magnet, being heaved to him.

There wasn’t a hiss, a groan, or a whimper when he pushed into you. You were both relieved, but looking right at each other was all-consuming. 

“I love you,” Eddie said, hand that was not supporting him finding a resting place right under the curve of your breast.

“I love you,” you rubbed your nose against his cheek, breaking the spell of his eyes and finally feeling all of the sensation he was bringing.

Slowly, his hips dragged back and forth. You tried to match him but his leg pressed firmly to yours, telling you to stop. He would take care of you.

Nothing had ever felt like this before, so secure and pure. The earth could have opened up beneath you and you don’t think you would have noticed.

“So good,” you nodded, pleasure shooting through your entire body. Eddie didn’t need the assurance, he could feel your body pulling him in. Which was why he was confused when you put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away.

You really just wanted to flip him over, but when he figured your plan out he maneuvered you so you were in his lap while he sat up. His arms were hugging you close, your chests pressed against one another while you were both trying to adjust to the new position and how deeper Eddie felt.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Perfect,” you nodded, hips starting to twitch with the want to move. You started to move, forcing Eddie to soften his grip on you. He couldn’t hold himself up without losing focus on not finishing this too early, so he allowed himself to flop onto his back. The feeling of your nails instantly digging into his pecs made him think you were nearing the end as well.

“I’m going to cum soon,” he grunted out, not having the mental capacity to have more eloquence. You didn’t either, apparently, because you just grabbed one of his hands and started to rub your clit using his finger.

“Come on, Love,” you panted, and Eddie spilled into the rubber a moment later. The feeling of him throbbing inside of you was what you needed to tip over the edge, and both of your heads went fuzzy with pleasure.

When you returned to clarity, Eddie had a tear coming from each eye. You wiped them away with your thumbs and leaned down to cement it all with a kiss. 

“No,” you complained when he gently rolled you onto your side and pulled out of you. He just nodded and kissed you sweetly.

Another word wasn’t spoken for a few minutes. He threw away the condom, and then you took his place in the bathroom to wipe yourself down. He held out a long shirt for you from his drawer and he slipped into clean boxers. You clicked on his radio while he started to pick up and fold your clothes.

You had no clue how you were so blind to his love.

After smoothing over his comforter, you shuffled onto the bed, knowing he’d join you the moment you opened your arms for him. He patted the small pile of your clothes and crawled beside you, pulling you into his chest.

“You’re my favorite person,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel that way.”

“I’m sorry I freaked out. You didn’t deserve that,” you swallowed thickly, the heaviness of your earlier words seeping through your bliss.

“No more apologies,” he decided and you agreed. After a minute of silent hugging, he spoke again. “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you I loved you, you know.” You grinned, a bit of spark coming back into the energy.

“Oh? So you didn’t just blurt it out so I would forgive you and have sex with you?” you teased. 

“Of course not,” he laughed, rubbing your arm. “I was going to do something big.”

“Like what? Get the marching band to serenade me? Spell it out in cigarettes?”

“I was thinking take flight lessons and write it in the sky. That way you couldn’t deny it,” he said.

“I would never,” you said, turning to face him. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Thank god.”

[aloneinthehellfire]

Something In The Water

It's You And Me, Always: Part 2

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

It's You and Me, Always Masterlist

Summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since elementary school and you both assumed that friendship was all you were destined for. However, when you both experience Chrissy’s supernatural death, you are pulled into the secrets beneath Hawkins and find that your feelings for eachother aren’t what they seem.

Warnings: mentions of death, mutual pining, something in the water

Word Count: 1.2k

<- Part 1: It's You And Me

Something In The Water

You didn’t know how you ended up in a boat drifting along Lover’s Lake to find some sort of gate into a supernatural world but it sure as hell was too late to turn back now.

It all pretty much started when Jason and his gang had managed to hunt down your hideout. The others had told you both about how the town was reacting; the police searching for you and Jason Carver taking the justice for Chrissy into his own hands.

He didn’t waste his time chasing you both out onto a boat. He and his friend, Patrick, had jumped in after you, putting their muscles to the test as they swam toward the boat. You had tried explaining, but he wouldn’t listen. Jason had never liked you very much, not since you were always telling Chrissy she deserved someone that actually listened. But the fear had set in. He wasn’t just going to hand you over to the police. He was going to kill you.

Everything then happened in a flash of images. You remembered Patrick floating in the air, dying. You then briefly remembered the rush to shore, hiding out at Skull Rock until the others finally found you both. Eddie freaked out about the whole situation. He didn’t think he was over-reacting and neither did you; it was a normal human reaction to witnessing supernatural murders. You on the other hand… you felt numb.

It didn't take long until Dustin had figured out where some sort of ‘gate’ was, leading the others with his supposedly broken compass. They had briefly explained the Upside Down to you, not that you could focus on their words. All you knew was that it was some kind of portal into another world, one that held nightmares. One that held the monster that had killed your friend.

Truthfully, you didn’t need to be convinced to get on the boat with the others on Lover’s Lake.

“It’s not too late to stay on shore.” Eddie said to you, trying his best to convince you off the boat and to safety.

“Same goes for you.” You challenged, smirking when your best friend sighed in defeat. You knew he had only come onto the boat for you, to make sure he could protect you.

Soon enough, the compass in Nancy’s hand starts to spin uncontrollably. You weren’t an expert on compasses but you knew that it meant the gate was directly beneath you.

“We’re here?” You wonder out loud, everyone peering over the edge of the boat as if the gate would be suddenly visible.

“I can’t see anything.” Robin murmured, sitting back with a sigh.

“Not from up here.” You don’t know where this burst of confidence came from but you were now standing up in the boat, discarding your jacket and tying your t-shirt so the material wouldn’t get in the way.

“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie was the first to react, picking up your jacket and holding out to you as if you would come to your senses and stay on the boat. Stay with him.

“Diving down. What else does it look like I’m doing?” You respond, still focused on altering your outfit.

There was a chorus of protests pouring out of the boat until you held your hand up, quietening them.

“I’m a trained lifeguard and I can hold my breath for over 3 minutes.” You explain, Robin’s eyes widening; impressed, “If anyone can dive down there and see if this gate thing is underneath us, it’s me.”

You directed your last statement to Eddie. He rubbed his face, conflicted. Obviously you were the clear choice for this but he had this deep rooted fear that it wasn’t safe. That you weren’t going to come back to him. He wanted nothing more than to tell you right now how he felt, just in case he never got the chance. But there were also 3 other people on the boat with you and he wasn’t confident enough for an awkward silence. Especially if you didn’t feel the same way.

“I’m coming with you.” Steve suddenly announced, standing by your side.

“He’s a good swimmer.” Nancy added.

Robin nodding along to her words. “Also a trained lifeguard.”

From the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw Eddie clicking his jaw and stiffening his body. But you knew better than to think he was jealous.

Eddie was, in fact, jealous. He didn’t understand why; maybe it was your teasing from earlier about Harrington that had dug into his skin but he wasn’t going to protest. He wasn’t a strong swimmer and he definitely didn’t want you down there alone. It took everything in him not to scoff when Steve took his shirt off, however.

“Steve?” Nancy called out, looking up at him, “Be careful.”

As they shared their own moment, you looked to Eddie, offering a small smile.

“See you soon.” You said out loud, mostly to Eddie.

And with that you dived into the water with Steve close behind, swimming through the shockingly cold water and heading down to the faint red light…

“It’s been a while now, right?” Eddie tries his best to make it sound like an honest question and not panic.

The seconds feel like hours as Eddie sits there, waiting for you to come back to him. Robin had told him it had been a little over a minute. Considering you can hold your breath for much longer, he shouldn’t be worried. But every reminder that you aren’t there by his side strikes his anxiety.

The loud splash of water makes him jump, exclaiming. He peers over to see Steve floating, wiping water from his face. But you weren’t there. Eddie’s heart stops for a moment, his mind flying through every possible scenario that could possibly be keeping you down there.

His thoughts were interrupted when you finally broke through the water, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t begin to describe the relief he felt in his chest to see you.

“We found it.” Steve panted, looking at you. Your eyes were still trying to comprehend what they saw at the bottom of Lover’s Lake.

“Yeah, we did.” You confirm, wiping water from your eyes and letting them focus on the wild haired boy by the edge of the boat. Eddie grinned at you, causing your heart to flutter. God, you loved that smile.

“It’s pretty wild. It's more a snack-size gate than the mama gate, but still, it's pretty damn big.” Steve continued, nodding at you.

Eddie leans over the edge, extending his hand out to you. Your heart skipped a beat as you thought of snuggling up to him for warmth. Lord knows you needed it.

You and Steve start swimming closer to the edge of the boat, grateful to leave the water and begin a plan. You reach out your hand to Eddie, fingers brushing against his until, you felt something else brush against your foot.

You quickly look to Steve, his confused expression only fuelling your curiosity.

“Can you feel something?” You ask. Steve didn’t get the chance to reply.

He disappeared into the water without so much as a sound. Panic flooded your body as you feel something wrap around your ankle. You look to Eddie, eyes wide. He leans over further, desperate to pull you out of the water.

You knew it was too late.

Part 3: Bats Out Of Hell ->

-

taglist: @aedicn | @yourdailymemedelivery

[midnightartemis]

Hellfire and Brimstone

Chapter 4

Eddie Munson x afab!reader (she/her), sheltered!reader

Rating: E

CW/TW: Abortion, talk of pregnancy, mentions of rape (coercion by a partner- not Eddie), drug use, religious trauma, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort… let me know if I missed any

Chapter warnings: Derogatory language towards angel, blood

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This was a bad idea.

Your parents really had alerted the whole town about your “disappearance”. Now, all the eyes were on you and all the whispers were about you, too.

Eddie holding your hand only poured fuel on the fire. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Eddie saw you in a way that no one ever had. He helped you with zero demand for something in return. Really that was all it took to win your loyalty and you would go down fighting for him.

Eddie, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure of this fact. He saw the stares and heard the whispers and was so certain you’d let go of his hand that he started to do it for you. You just gripped his hand tighter, a determined look on your face as you marched up to your locker. Eddie leaned up against the lockers, glancing down the hall, frowning. “Are you sure you want to do this, Angel?”

“I’m sure.” You paused as you pulled out a notebook and some spare supplies. “Are… you not sure?”

“I’m… usually I’d say fuck it, but… I mean, it’s social suicide for you.”

You laughed. “Social suicide? Really? Do you care about that?”

“Do you?”

“Eddie, when I came to Hawkins, I was a social awkward homeschooler and spent most of my time reading religious doctrine. I was never expecting to be high on the social ladder.” You slammed you locker shut, laughing at yourself. “You know, it was Chrissy who took me under her wing and pulled me into that friend group. Ever since… it just hasn’t been the same. I think her friends only tolerated me because she liked me.”

You never talked about her. It was too painful. The only one who you thought might understand had been Jason. And he had only been using you. You didn’t pretend to know what grief did to people, but it had turned Jason into something horrible.

“You okay, angel?” Eddie brushed a piece of your hair away from your eyes. You nodded.

“Yeah. I just miss her… a lot sometimes.” You tried to shrug it off, not wanting to wallow in that misery more. “I should get to class.”

“Where to, my lady?” With a flourish, Eddie bowed like an 18th-century gentleman and offered his arm. You giggled and took it, despite the stares it got you from your classmates.

“Why, good sir, I am off to English comp in room 12.”

“It would be my honor to escort you to your classroom, Lady Angel.”

“Such gentlemanly behavior from a scoundrel.”

Eddie raised a brow. “My lady, I may be a scoundrel, but I will never break your heart.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Sir Eddie.” You winked up at him and swore he blushed. You let Eddie lead you through the halls towards your class.

You thought Eddie would part ways with you in the hall since he wasn’t in this class. But he followed you in.

Victoria was already sitting at her desk. Her long red hair cascaded over her shoulders. She turned from the other girls as you walked in. “Hey! What the hell happened this weekend? Your parents were calling everyone.”

“Oh.” You cursed yourself silently. You hadn’t thought of anything to say to them. You didn’t want them to know the truth of it. You weren’t ready for the world to know. It was too private. Too personal. You froze. “I uh–“

She glanced behind you, already bored. “Ew. Get out of here, freak. What the hell are you doing here?”

You cast a pleading glance back at Eddie.

“Thinking about transferring,” he jumped in, smoothly. A wave of relief washed over you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, grinning up at him. “I’ve actually been tutoring him. Though he doesn’t really need it. He has an impressive library.”

“There’s like barely three weeks left in the semester. Wait–“ Victoria caught the look you gave Eddie. “What the fuck is going on? You’re not seriously flirting with that freak, are you?”

“Alright, class!”

You jumped as your English teacher hurried in and set down a pile of papers on her desk. Eddie slipped into the seat next to you.

/What the hell are you doing?/ you mouthed to him.

Eddie put a finger to his lips and grinned mischievously. You rolled your eyes and grinned as Ms. Hadley started sorting through papers and speaking about them rapidly. She hadn’t even noticed The rogue student sitting in her classroom. You were fighting against the urge to giggle when you heard a high pitched cough behind you.

You looked back to see Victoria with her hand held up and lips pursed. “Ms. Hadley.”

Ms. Hadley trailed off, looking up from the stack of papers. Looking a little perturbed to be interrupted. “Yes, Miss Jennings, what is it?”

“Eddie is not supposed to be in here.” Victoria lowered her hand. “He’s causing a learning disturbance and I can’t concentrate.”

Ms. Hadley glanced from Victoria to Eddie with a frown, like she honestly didn’t remember if Eddie had been in her class this entire semester or not. “Is this true, Mr….. Munsy?”

You bit your lips together, trying to not burst out laughing. Eddie, however, had the best poker face you had ever seen. “Well, Ms. Hadley, I don’t see how I can be causing a disturbance just sitting here quietly and listening attentively to you. As you know, it’s near the end of the year and could go either way if I graduate or not. So, I wanted to see what my classes next year might be like. What do they call it in college? An audit? I just heard so many wonderful things about your class.”

Fucking Eddie silver tongued Munson. Ms. Hadley looked equal parts flattered, flustered, and horrified at the prospect of having Eddie in her class next year. You knew he was bluffing but you also knew if he wanted to, he could.

“Very well,” Ms. Hadley nodded. “You can stay.”

“What?” Victoria hissed.

“Ms. Jennings, judging by your second draft of your final paper, I would say Mr. Munsy is not the cause for your distraction. Now,” Ms. Hadley started handing out papers as the rest of the class giggled. Victoria shrank back in her seat, pouting.

You’d expected Eddie to run off after first period, but he followed you through math and biology. Each of your teachers falling for the same lines he gave Ms. Hadley.

“How are you doing this?” You leaned over to whisper to him as your beaker of acid boiled.

Eddie winked. “Nat 20s, angel.”

You flushed at the nickname, though you had no idea what he was talking about. God he looked cute in his white lab coat and the safety glasses making his hair all wild. You wanted to kiss him again. So badly.

It wasn’t until lunch that you realized his true intentions of following you around all day. No one was looking at you as you walked into the cafeteria. Instead, all eyes were on Eddie. All the whispers were about his latest antics. You looked up at him, bewildered. Eddie just shrugged and smiled down at you. “I have my ways, Angel.”

“You’re a wizard.”

“Nope. Just a bard. With high charisma.” Eddie grinned.

“A what?”

“Oh, I have so much to teach you.” Eddie led you across the cafeteria to a small table where a bunch of freshman sat, some you remembered barging into Eddie’s trailer. Dustin…. Mike. Lucas and Erica Sinclair. And Max. The boys were engaged in a heated conversation and the girls were chatting quietly with each other, rolling their eyes and laughing.

You paused, a little nervous. Even if they were just freshmen. Eddie placed a steady hand on the small of your back. “Come on, Angel. They’ll love you.”

You took a deep breath and walked with him to the table. Dustin looked up first, a huge grin on his face. “Hey, Eddie!”

All the eyes at the table quickly turned to you. Eddie took the lead. “Ladies, gents. Angel here is going to be sitting with us. Do try to corrupt her with your vast knowledge of our evil doings.”

You raised your brow as you sat down next to Eddie.

“Dungeons and Dragons.” Dustin popped a grape into his mouth and pointed at his shirt. It was one you’d seem Eddie wearing before. Hellfire Club. “It’s our group. Eddie’s our DM.”

“What’s a DM?” You’d heard of the games name through your father’s sermons but you had no idea what it actually was. You were certain though it wasn’t actually satanic. It was just a game.

Eddie brushed a strand of hair away from your face, grinning. “Well, you see, Angel, I means that I rein supreme.”

Your breath caught as he smiled at you, teasing.

It all fell apart when a bang echoed through the cafeteria. You jumped and twisted around to see Jason staring at you and Eddie, a tray of foot at his feet. “Get your hands off my girl, freak.”

Every eye in the cafeteria turned to look at Jason. Then to you. It was dead quiet. You were frozen to your seat.

“I knew you got concussions, Carver. Didn’t realize you thought it was the fifties.” Eddie’s voice darkened. He hand wrapped protectively around your wrist. “She doesn’t belong to anyone. Especially not you.”

Jason’s eyes focussed on you, pleading. You knew now he didn’t really mean it. “Come on, babe. I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. We can figure it out.”

You were crying, shaking. You weren’t sure when you started. You shook your head, no, as a feeling you’d never felt before began to burn in your gut.

Jason stepped closer and closer. A desperate look on his face. “Come on, baby. Let’s go somewhere else. We can talk about this right? You don’t want those freaks.”

You stood as Jason came to the table. Eddie stood beside you. You weren’t sure if you were holding him back or if he was holding you back.

“No, Jason.” You shook your head. “No. I’m done.”

“Come on, babe,” Jason reached for you and something inside of you snapped.

“I said NO!”

Jason froze. The saccharine smile on his face faded into something far more sinister. His voice lowered, though the cafeteria was dead quiet and everyone could still hear. “You shouldn’t talk to me like that, baby. Or everyone will find out what a little pregnant whore you are.”

You weren’t sure who moved first- you or Eddie. One moment Jason was in front of you, the next you were on the floor with aching fingers, watching as Eddie pummeled the shit out of Jason’s face.

“Eddie.” Your voice was nothing compared to the jeering from the students around you. You tried to go for him but someone caught your arm. You looked back to see Robin. And behind her, Steve pushed through the crowd, ran by you, and yanked Eddie off of Jason.

Eddie struggled against Steve, spitting blood as Jason weakly pushed himself to his feet. Eddie seethed. “That thing should have killed you. Not Chrissy.”

Jason snapped with a roar that sucked the air from your lungs. Robin held you back as Jason lunged forward with a fist that sent Eddie and Steve flying into the arms of Jason’s friends. They were pushed back into the ring as Todd stepped in with Jason. Steve wiped a bit of blood from his lip and shared a look with Eddie.

From behind them, Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Will stepped into the circle behind them. It wasn’t enough to overpower Jason and his friends, but it was enough to give them pause.

And enough time for your teachers to break through the wall of students and get in the middle of it.

“Munson! Carver! Harrington! Principal’s office. Now! The rest of you, disperse.”

As rest of your classmates scattered, you tried to push through them to Eddie and Steve. Mr. Jones and two of the gym teachers had the three boys by the arm as they drug them to the principals office.

Eddie kept his eyes on the floor. If he looked up and saw Jason’s stupid face, he wasn’t sure he could hold back. The left side of his face pounded in time with the bruising skin on his stomach. He could taste copper on his tongue but couldn’t tell if he bit his tongue or lost a tooth or both.

Mr. Jones tossed him in a chair right across from Principal Waterford. Steve sat beside him and on the other side of him, Jason.

Eddie had been here before. He knew how this was going to go already.

Principal Waterford sighed and pressed her manicured fingers to her nude lips. “Mr. Munson. I was hoping with less than three weeks left in the school year, you wouldn’t be back here.”

Eddie smirked and winced. “Trust me, I didn’t want to be back here either.”

Jason scoffed and Principal Waterford’s narrow features turned to him. “And I was expecting better from you, Mr. Carver. Or are you actively trying to lose your scholarship?”

Jason didn’t have a good retort to that. Eddie smirked.

“And you, Mr. Harrington–“

“It’s not his fault.” Eddie looked up, pleading with the principal. “He was trying to break it up.”

Principal Waterford looked between the three of them, her eyes landing on Jason. “Is this true?”

Jason nodded curtly, his head in his hands.

“Very well. Mr. Harrington, you will not be punished. As for the two of you–"

“Yeah,” Eddie grumbled. “Three-day susp–"

The door flew open before he could finish his sentence and you rushed in. Behind you stood a red-faced secretary who had tried to stop you and obviously failed. “It’s not his fault.”

“Miss Smith, as admirable as it is to stand up for Jason–"

“Not Jason. Eddie. He was only trying to protect me. I-I started the fight.”

Indeed, he could see the cut on your lip. Eddie looked away and grabbed the arms of his seat. It was all he could do to not jump over Steve and try to land another blow.

“You started it?” Principal Waterford raised a plucked brow incredulously.

“Jason called me a pregnant whore,” you said quietly as you raised your right hand to show your red knuckles. “I punched him first.”

The principals lips parted.

Eddie stared at you a little in awe, a little terrified for you. He reached for your hand and pressed his lips to your knuckles. You smile softly down at him.

Jason laughed. “What? You think some trailer trash is going to take care of you? He knows it’s not his right?”

“Mr. Carver!”

“Just saying, if we’re going to get it all out–"

“He’s helped me more than you ever have,” you hissed.

“Sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend on the day of her funeral…. Real classy–"

“Mr. Carver, that’s enough!” Principal Carver slammed her hands on her desk as she stood. “What the hell has gotten into you? One-week suspension. No sports. And a written apology to Miss Smith. Miss Smith, Mr. Munson. Two days, out of school suspension for both of you. Mr. Harrington, get those two out of here.”

Steve walked you and Eddie out of the principal’s office. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying not to cry as you headed for the main doors of the high school. Warm spring air hit your face. You tried to take a breath as you walked straight for Eddie’s car. You got in the passengers seat.

Eddie and Steve paused outside of the van, talking. They both looked as you and Eddie shrugged. Steve clapped him on the back and the two boys parted. Steve headed back to the school building and Eddie climbed into the driver's side.

He took out his keys and turned the ignition. “Two days, Angel. Where to you want to go?”

You thought about it for a moment. A wave of exhaustion settled over you. “Anywhere that’s not here.”

Eddie flipped the gears into drive.

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[phoenixwrites]

I've seen a couple of complaints on how Chrissy is characterized in fanfic--which is a wee bit frustrating to me, because one of the fun parts about Chrissy is every fanfic writer gets to choose how to characterize her and it's all kinda valid. I love a Chrissy who discovers a love of metal as much as I love a Chrissy who never gets into it and sticks with Madonna--I love a sexually experienced Eddie Munson who gets into fights regularly and a virgin dork Eddie Munson--both are perfectly valid headcanons to have about them. We simply do not have enough canonical information to make firm judgments. Chrissy gets, like, fifteen minutes of screentime total, which gives us leave to make choices about her. Which again, is part of the fun.

So I want to impress a few thoughts on WHY Chrissy is characterized so often as unhappy in her life or her relationships.

A lot of us project our own unhappy adolescence onto Chrissy. Perfectly valid thing to do.

We know that Chrissy was emotionally and likely physically abused by her mother--Vecna's visions for both Fred and Max were based on actual memories, it's not a leap to assume the same for Chrissy.

We know jacksquat about Chrissy and Jason's relationship, except that Chrissy's smile is rather fixed when Jason calls out to her during the assembly (compare to the scene where Eddie makes her smile--it's just an obvious difference.) And we also know that Mason played up Jason's jealousy of Eddie--he's said so in interviews, which is why he was so angry when Lucas tried to tell him that Chrissy went to Eddie for help.

Chrissy did not go to her friends or her boyfriend for drugs. Popular 'queen of Hawkins High' probably had any number of friends who could've gotten her drugs--but Chrissy chose to go to Eddie and to keep it private. Why? There are a number of possible reasons, but Chrissy being unhappy and not feeling safe enough to go to her friends is a large reason as to why writers characterize her as so isolated. I was a good girl in high school too, but if I'd wanted drugs, there were a number of avenues I'd have pursued before tracking down the "school freak".

Was Jason abusive? We simply don't have enough information to say so definitively. I can see it going either way. He was perfectly fine with his friends physically assaulting an 11-year-old girl and nearly killing Lucas--even in the throes of grief, that makes me pretty suspect of him as a character. Some of us are projecting onto Jason and that's fine--but at the same time, I've seen plenty of writers redeem Jason and give him pathos--more pathos than the show ever did, frankly.

My point is, because Chrissy, Eddie, and Jason don't have enough canonical screentime to make definitive judgments about who they are as characters. Which is where fandom comes in and it's one of the most fun parts about it. So even if you're not a fan of a fandom drope, it doesn't mean there isn't REASON for it to be there.

[penny00dreadful]

First Impressions - Chapter 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 AO3

"I have to tell you something." Eddie mumbled one night after he had crawled into Chrissy's bed and hid himself under the covers.

"Oh?" He heard Chrissy's reply from above him. She shuffled down to join him below the horizon of her bedsheets. "Something juicy I hope?"

Eddie shook his head though he wasn’t even sure if she could see it. "Something serious."

Her overhead lights were off but her fairy lights were still on, bathing the room in a soft glow that just barely made its way through the sheets to them.

"Okay." Her voice was a little softer this time around. "Hit me."

He took a bracing breath in. "I found out a while back… when you and Robin kinda stopped talking, apparently Steve and Robin have a bit of a history with being fucked around by people and I think Steve was scared you were gonna destroy her heart so he kinda convinced her to stop things before they started after that night at The Hideout. I know you tried to call and fix things but it didn't end up going anywhere and that's why. He was scared for his friend and wanted to protect her and we know you were only just coming to terms with yourself but they didn't know that. I think they still don't know that. So yeah. Steve was kinda behind it all. In a way."

Eddie tried to search for her eyes through the darkness but the light was so low he could barely see her. His brain was doing that thing where if he stared at a face in the dark for too long, that face started to twist and distort, only adding to his inability to work out her expression.

"Why are you telling me this now?" She asked, whispering the words between them. Her tone gave nothing away.

"I should have told you sooner. You deserved to know. But when I found out I was still so jumbled with my own feelings and you weren't doing well either and I didn't want to add to your… turmoil, I guess?"

He paused, waiting for some kind of response from her but she just gave him a curious “Mhm?”

"You know I've found a lot of things recently and had some sense knocked into me-"

"Knocked into you? More like clubbed into your thick stubborn skull." She teased, her tone lighter than he'd expected.

"Yeah." He breathed, laughing and finding her hand in the darkness. “I don’t know, I guess I just felt like now was the right time.”

She squeezed his fingers in the silence that followed, running her thumb over his rings.

"I get why he did it, I think? Like I'm not really that surprised. We’d talked about some of our previous relationships between the three of us and I don't know everything but I do know that if I thought you were being jerked around by some straight boy like that I probably would have done something similar."

Eddie laughed more fully this time. "I thought the same thing. That I'd do the same for you but that took me a while to admit to myself."

"Yeah, no shit. Took you a while to admit a lot of things."

"I know." He buried his face into her mattress, groaning.

"So have you accepted the fact that you want to fuck the living daylights out of Steve Harrington?"

"Chrissy!" He hissed, covering his face with his arms."The liquor store is closed, I cannot have this conversation with you without some wine."

"Fine. We're doing this tomorrow and you are going to tell me everything . No getting out of it. Also you're staying here in this bed tonight.” She squeezed his hand tight. “If you don't like it, tough shit."

Chapter continues on AO3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10

[nanlanmoarchived]

thefreak-86​:

As the pair made their way back to where everything changed, Eddie kept a hard stare on the back Jessicas head, even making sure to keep his distance, just in case. He didnt really know what to say to her, what mind of questions he wanted to ask but he just knew that it was time for them to talk. Hed kept an eye in Hawkins. Any disappearances, strange deaths, and such like but he’d found nothing. He was glad in a way that she had started the conversation “You do. Did. I mean did.” That’s one way to piss off a vampire. “Books told me vampires can control a person just by looking at them so… I was just trying to be safe. It’s probably not true is it? I made myself look a dumbass.” He babbled, still struggling with the turmoil inside him.

He stood straight, hands in his back pockets, and looked towards the woodland. Chrissy. His mind silently remembered. He swallowed back the memories. “You don’t repulse me, Jess.” Eddie’s voice cracked a moment but he clenched his jaw to steady himself. “The other week, I said about how I can’t go through all this again?” He slowly turned to look at her, meeting her gaze with flared nostrils. “I’ve experienced some weird shit, Jess. Hawkins is kinda, um… cursed. What we liked to call it. I lost a lot of people because of this place, this thing, the Upside-Down? It’s been almost a year and so, when you….” Eddie shuffled on his feet uncomfortably “…you told me what you are, I thought maybe I was cursed. That bad shit was just gonna keep coming my way because of the Upside down, man.” Eddie’s voice began to tremor & his hands shook like it was mid winter. He gave his eyes a quick rub with his fingers, trying to settle himself. “But there’s been no weird shit happening in Hawkins again. So, you’re just, uh,” He sniffled “you, right? The world has vamps and shit in it too? Do I gotta carry a wreath of garlic or something? Or is that bullshit.”

Originally posted by how-to-find-neverland

She couldn’t help the cringe. She’d repulsed him. Fantastic. What a way to make an impression on your crush. As Eddie stammered through what he’d read all she could keep her gaze on the ground in front of her. All she wanted to do was run and hide to be completely honest. It was a mistake telling him what she was. Her Maker was right, no matter how human she might’ve been, she was still a monster. 

As Eddie continued on, her gaze rose to watch him through her lashes. Part of her wanted to laugh, to prompt him to say he was just kidding, but he was so serious that all she could do was listen. Whatever he’d been through, it was bad. Her lips pulled into a soft frown, her shoulders lifting, “Yeah. I didn’t know either, until I got picked up. I was goin’ to my first party.” She laughed softly, her gaze dropping again, “No garlic, but yeah, some of us can control humans’ thoughts. I’m not good at it yet. Bill doesn’t want me usin’ it to get a better grade or make someone do somethin’ stupid because they pissed me off.” Jessica sighed, her attention turning back to find his. “I didn’t know-- About Hawkins.” She offered, “If I did I would’ve. . . I don’t know.” Because she honestly couldn’t say she wouldn’t have done the same thing, but maybe she would’ve tried in a different way. “I’m sorry. I’d say I wished I wasn’t like this but if I wasn’t I’d still be livin’ in the middle of nowhere with my drunk ass dad and not here.”