#eddie munson is still alive shut up
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Eddie survives the Upside Down by sheer force of Steve Harrington's will. He, Robin, and Nancy come upon Dustin sobbing over Eddie's very alarmingly still body, and Steve doesn't even hesitate to heave Eddie over his shoulder and carry him to the gate. He refuses to think about whether or not Eddie is dead and this is pointless — he'll be damned if he doesn't try everything. They manage to get Eddie through and escape themselves before the earth starts ripping itself open, and Steve carefully lays Eddie on the bed in the RV, tearing down the road at an ungodly speed, driving straight for the hospital.
He's so singularly focused on not letting Eddie die that he doesn't remember about Erica, Lucas, and Max until he watches in horror as a gurney carrying Max comes flying through the doors of the emergency room, Lucas and Erica running behind it. The nurses stop the Sinclairs from following her through to the surgical wing, and Steve hurriedly vacates his seat, pulling the two kids into a hug, apologies pouring from his lips. Eventually, he stops babbling, and everyone takes a seat, Steve wincing as he does so.
The bites on his sides still smart, but he can — and will — wait to get seen himself until he hears something about Eddie. When they'd shown up, Steve carrying Eddie bridal style and screaming for help, everyone around them had thought Eddie was dead; after getting him on a gurney, a nurse yelled at everyone to shut up as she pressed a stethoscope to Eddie's chest, and the next thing Steve knew, Eddie was being wheeled away from them to surgery. Dustin had fallen to his knees, appearing to be praying to anything listening, and Steve nearly joined him. Somehow, Eddie was still alive. Steve refused to be seen until he knew that was still the case.
Hours pass before they're allowed in to see Eddie; when they are, it's somehow more horrifying than the moment Steve had found him cradled in Dustin's lap. Eddie is still motionless, but now he's paler, there's what looks like a hundred wires coming out of his body, and a tube is breathing for him. Steve hazily registers the doctors explaining that the blood loss was significant, as were the wounds littering Eddie's body, and that it's going to be a waiting game to see what happens next. He startles when he hears the gentle comment that if Eddie doesn't wake within a week, it's unlikely he ever will; Steve refuses to even consider that as a possibility.
Nancy manages to talk Steve into getting his own bites cleaned and stitched, which turns into taking him home for a shower and a change of clothes; they're still driving the stolen RV, and when Steve pulls back into the hospital parking lot, he hesitates before climbing out. Eddie's denim vest is still sitting on the sofa, bloodstained and ripped all over. Steve digs through the cabinets of the RV until he finds a sewing kit, and brings the vest inside with him.
He carefully washes out as much of the blood as he can in the bathroom sink, and plops into a chair at Eddie's bedside, pulling out red thread and a needle from the sewing kit. Nancy, Robin, and Dustin all exchange looks before simply sitting in silence, watching Steve carefully begin to repair every tear in the fabric.
Eventually, Nancy gets a hold of Wayne Munson, who enters the room, sees Steve hard at work on his project, and doesn't say a word — he just pulls a chair up next to Steve's, claps him on the shoulder, and reaches out to pat Eddie's leg through the hospital blankets. Neither Steve nor Wayne leave their spots other than to use the bathroom, and nobody tries to make them.
Three days into Eddie's hospital stay, the door opens, and Eleven, Jonathan, Will, Mike, and someone Steve doesn't recognize enter the room. Steve looks up, unblinking and on the verge of unseeing, before turning his attention back to the vest; two small hands reach out and cover his, and it's only then that he registers who's standing in front of him. Eleven is looking at him sadly, and hesitates only briefly before she leans forward to hug him.
He grips her tightly, and takes a shaky breath before holding a hand out toward the Byers brothers and Mike, and sooner than anyone can blink, there's a massive huddle of arms enveloping Steve. For the first time since leaving the Upside Down, Steve lets himself cry; nobody comments at it, nobody even acknowledges it — other than Eleven, who gently wipes his face with her sleeves when they finally separate.
More chairs are dragged into the room, and suddenly Eddie is the most popular patient in the hospital — tied with Max, of course, as the group takes shifts between the two rooms. Steve and Wayne are the only permanent fixtures in Eddie's room, just as Lucas and Erica are the only permanent residents with Max.
Steve finishes patching the tears in the vest, but Eddie hasn't woken up yet, so his fingers itch to keep going. He pulls out a spool of white thread, and outlines the jagged stitches he made before, carefully working his way over the entire vest once more. When he finishes that, he grabs black thread, and repeats the process.
He's in a sort of trance as he stitches away, conversations happening around him but sounding like they're miles away. It's not until someone physically stops his hands moving again that he realizes the words are being directed towards him; confused, he looks up and jolts so strongly he nearly tips his chair backwards. The person who stopped him working this time is Jim Hopper, and for the first time since the doctor gave them the stupid timeline, Steve feels hope. If Hopper can come back, Eddie can too. Eddie can too.
On day 6 of Eddie's coma, Steve speaks for the first time, tired eyes looking at Eleven beseechingly. "Can you... will you see if he's still in there?"
Eleven takes the bandana Wayne passes her and ties it over her eyes, one hand gripping Eddie's, the other intertwined with Steve's. She focuses on the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the wheezing of the oxygen pump, the sounds allowing her to drift into the in-between. She finds Eddie curled in a ball, hands clutching his sides, tears silently streaming down his face.
As she did with Steve, she gently reaches out and wipes his face clean, and waits for him to acknowledge her; he eventually looks up at her and his eyebrows furrow. "Who are you?" he asks, voice scratchy with disuse.
"Eleven," she says, holding out her hand to you.
"Henderson's friend?"
Eleven nods. "Come. Time to leave here. They're waiting for you."
She pulls Eddie to his feet and starts walking forward, focusing her hearing until she can isolate Steve's breathing pattern under the din of the hospital machinery. Her eyes fly open under the bandana, and she rips it off, turning to look at Eddie expectantly. For a moment, there's nothing and then —
Eddie starts choking on the breathing tube, Wayne starts yelling for a doctor, Steve breaks down in fresh tears, and the kids are cheering.
It's hours of examinations later that Steve is finally able to return to his seat at Eddie's side, everyone, Wayne included, giving him a minute alone with Eddie. When he enters, he notices Eddie is holding the vest, tracing his fingers over Steve's haphazard stitching.
Sheepishly, Steve raises a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I did the best I could."
The stitches zigzag across all the places the fabric had been slashed, both by demobat talons and sharp bushes in the Upside Down forest, and Steve's work has it looking like branches of lightning working their way across the vest. Eddie shakes his head and looks up at Steve, eyes wide and shining. "You fixed it."
Steve shrugs and Eddie shakes his head again. "Harrington.... Steve. You... you fixed it. For me."
Steve inches forward in his seat, and reaches out to grab one of Eddie's hands. "I dunno, I kinda think I fucked it up. But I could tell when you threw it at me that this was something that was important to you. I didn't let that place take you away, why would I let it take your things?"
Eddie laughs, head thrown back against his pillows, hand squeezing the absolute life out of Steve's. When he finally settles, he looks at Steve bashfully, head dipped down just enough that he's looking up at him through his eyelashes. "Talk about a declaration of unambiguous true love," he whispers.
Steve doesn't seem surprised or put off by Eddie's assessment; in fact, all he does is beam at him before lifting Eddie's hand to his face, pressing a featherlight kiss to his bruised knuckles.
"Take me out on a date first, Munson. Then we can start throwing words like love around."
As the room fills with the sound of Eddie and Steve's laughter, the rest of the group filters back in, including Lucas pushing a wheelchair-bound Max; Steve looks around at all of them and sighs around a soft smile.
They won.
#Steddie drabble#stranger things drabble#steddie#Steve Harrington#Eddie Munson#my fic#originally the lightning stitching was going to be intentional#Steve thinking about the red lightning in the Upside Down#and thinking about it as the backdrop to Eddie's playing#but I kind of like the idea of it being accidental and Eddie thinking it's metal as fuck#1k
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the combo "they have to work together and they hit a realization on how its not too bad" + "fuck you" "when" w eddie pleeeasseeee
ty for requesting :D — the kids hatch a plan to get their favorite arcade workers to stop hating each other. it works out a lot better than they thought (enemies to lovers, 1.5k)
You wipe down a few grimy tables — all of which seem to be perpetually sticky at The Palace Arcade — with nothing but a damp cloth and a stubborn determination. You’re interrupted by a finger poking you expectantly in the back.
You look slowly over your shoulder to find Max Mayfield standing behind you. Her auburn hair is parted into two plaits, and her freckled arms are crossed firmly over her chest. She leads the pack of regular teenage boys that typically accompany her here, obviously meaning business.
“Street fighter?” she wonders vaguely, in the place of any actual greeting.
“Out of commission,” you answer in a monotone before turning back to the table in front of you. You keep scrubbing at the stubborn ring of dried soda until she taps you on the shoulder again. “What?” you say with a dramatic huff.
“I know you got it working again,” Max insists with an arched brow. “Just like I know Keith’s keeping it hostage in the back so no one else can play.”
Both statements are only partially true.
Eddie Munson and his self-proclaimed magic fingers (which you’ve begged him to stop referring to) managed to bring the dead machine back to life. Mostly. It lives primarily in the back room now, because there’s no use in bringing it out if it’s hardly alive. Keeping it to yourself, and away from the sticky fingers of middle school kids, is just a bonus.
You blink at the kids with a deadpanned stare.
Dustin Henderson, getting the sense that you’re about to shut them down again, decides to blurt, “We’ll help you wipe down the tables!” You meet his offer with an unwavering squint, wondering how far you can push him. He caves immediately. “And… clean the bathrooms.”
Lucas whips his head to the side. “Dustin!” he shouts.
“What?” the curly-haired boy cowers.
“It’s a deal,” you hum with a proud grin. Abandoning your bleach-stained cloth on the wiped-down table, you walk through the group of teenagers and towards the back hallway. “Follow me,” you usher unenthusiastically.
You find that the dead machine is still, in fact, dead when you burst into the back room with a gaggle of high schoolers behind you.
Eddie’s popped open the bottom compartment to try and bring it to life again. He lies on his back with the top half of his body swallowed in the machine, working on the inside wires with lanky, tattooed arms. The hem of his shirt rides slightly upward, revealing the softness of his stomach and the trail of hair sprinkled there.
With your senses partially delayed by the strangely pretty sight, you don’t catch the kids running out of the room until they slam the door in your face. You rattle the metal knob with an aggressive hand. It refuses to budge.
“Ugh— You little shits!” you shout at the closed door.
Eddie, startled by the sudden chaos, bangs his head on the machine when he sits up. “Shit,” he grimaces once he’s fully in view again. He rubs at the top of his skull and squints over at you. “What the hell’s going on?”
“They locked us in here,” you grouse.
“Who?” the boy wonders with his face twisted in confusion and very distant disgust. “Why?”
“You’re not coming out until you kiss and make up,” you hear Dustin Henderson instruct, though his lisp is mostly muffled through the shut door.
“When I get out of here, you guys are dead,” you threaten in a monotone to the out-of-sight teens. “You know that, right?”
“We’ll take that risk,” Lucas snickers.
You huff when you hear them shuffle down the hall again, leaning your weight on the locked door with your eyes fluttered shut. Eddie just watches you, still sitting in the same position on the vibrantly patterned carpet. “I’m confused…” he mumbles after a few seconds of heavy silence.
“Unsurprising,” you scoff.
Eddie laughs to himself. The boyish sound strikes nothing short of inhuman rage in your chest. An impossible fire to breathe through. “Well, you’re particularly bitchy this morning,” he lilts and rises from the ground.
“I’m supposed to be working, but instead, I’m stuck in here with you,” you deadpan. “So I think I’m allowed to be a little bitchy right now, Munson.”
“Well… I’m on break, so…” He flashes you a stupid pink grin as he reaches for the outdated Pacman machine, which has conveniently plated his PB&J. He plucks the sandwich from the napkin it sits on and takes a sloppy bite. Jelly smears along the corner of his mouth. Your face swirls with disgust at the sight.
You turn back around and bang at the door with a closed fist. “Alright! You can let us out now!” you yell, hoping someone can hear you. “This isn’t funny anymore!”
“Stop trying. It’s too late,” Eddie mumbles with his mouth full. “They’re long gone. Probably for the next several hours… Either until Dustin beats his Dragon’s Lair high score or until one of them gets home and thinks to themselves… ‘Wait. I feel like I forgot something…’”
He rambles mindlessly to himself while he tugs the brown crust off his sandwich. He pops the piece of bread into his mouth and flits his gaze back to you. He finds you swallowing down a smile. ‘Cause you refuse to let the freak make you laugh.
“Whatever. I’m not taking the fall for this,” you huff and shake your head.
You sit on the cracked pleather stool across the room from Eddie, in front of a deconstructed machine. The boy scoffs at your dramatics. “Shut up. Keith loves you. We both know I’m gonna be the one getting blamed for this shit.”
“Good.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “This is your fault somehow.”
“Trust me, sweetheart. This isn’t any better for me than it is for you.”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”
Eddie downs the rest of his sandwich in another too big bite. “Getting locked in a room with the Princess of Hawkins High isn’t exactly a bucket list item for me,” he says through the mouthful, then licks peanut butter off the pad of his thumb. “It’s more of a waking nightmare, honestly.”
You try hard to stay composed. You know he’s just fishing for a response. He wants you to be angry, and the problem is it’s working. You break before you mean to. “Fuck you, Eddie,” you bite, eyes narrowed in a challenging squint.
The boy approaches you with a tightlipped smile. He peers at you beneath his lashes, half-hidden in his hair as he flashes you an innocent look. “When?” he quips.
He towers over you while you stay sitting, scowling up at him with an emotionless glare. “You’re insufferable,” you deadpan after a few long moments.
Eddie’s grin widens. “I know.”
“And I hate you,” you press, just to really drive it home.
You might be overcompensating. Just a little. Almost like you’re prefacing what you know you’re about to do. ‘Cause he’s close enough to kiss and too pretty for his own good. The proximity is maddening.
“Wanna makeout about it?” Eddie smirks.
You don’t humor him with a response. You just grab him by the neck of his Palace Arcade tee and drag his mouth down to yours. The kiss is full of tongue and teeth, passionate with hate and a lingering fury.
His lips are softer than flower petals and taste faintly of sweet jelly. He kisses you with his delicate mouth, hard enough to knock you into the broken machine behind you. He holds the wooden edge of it with one ringed hand and cradles the back of your neck with the other. The thing hits the wall every time his tongue swipes against your own.
His touch is achingly loud. The rattling of the door knob across the room almost goes unheard. You hear the comically loud squeal of rusted hinges and push apart from each other like you’ve suddenly caught the plague.
You swipe Eddie’s spit from your mouth with the back of your hand as Keith bursts into the room — with wide-eyed teenagers standing behind him.
“What the hell!” Eddie gapes, lips rosy and softly swollen.
“Sorry…” Lucas winces. “We thought we heard banging.”
“I told them not to bother you,” Max chirps knowingly from behind him.
“We were scared you guys we’re, like, actually fist fighting or something,” Mike confesses.
You rise from the stool, keeping several conspicuous inches between you and Eddie. You nod and pull your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “Well, we were actually, so…”
“Fist fighting?” Dustin echoes.
“Yep.”
“With… your mouths?”
You swallow hard. “…Uh-huh.”
Silence lulls over the tiny backroom, making it feel that much more suffocating. You decide to make your escape with a heavy sigh, shoving past the bodies in the doorway without so much as a look their way.
Eddie follows behind you — not because he’s on the same mission, but because your ass looks really good in those jeans.
“God…” Keith grumbles behind him, in his signature slurred monotone. “This is so coming out of your paychecks.”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble
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🧸 Beary soon 🧸
Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, June 2024 edition
Prompt: stuff, 483 words
Rated: G
Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Mutual pining; Tooth-rotting fuff
“Careful,” Eddie says as Steve sweeps a horde of tiny demons off the desk. “They're delicate.”
“Oh, yeah?” Steve gripes. His arms are sore from carrying boxes and his head hurts. “How about you pack them yourself?”
“I’d love to,” Eddie grins obnoxiously. It tugs on the bandage covering his jaw, where the bats almost tore out his throat. “But alas, I’m under strict orders to rest.”
He settles against the headboard of his bed and winces as the movement pulls on his stitches.
“So you’d rather watch me work my ass off?”
“Exactly, big boy.” Eddie winks at him, and Steve feels himself flush for reasons he’s been refusing to examine ever since the spring break from hell. “Now go. If you can’t handle them with the appropriate care, I’ll get Henderson to do it. Carry those out to the van.”
He gestures at another pile of boxes, like a king giving orders, and returns to his comic book.
While he lugs the first box outside, Steve silently marvels at how much stuff the Munsons have in their tiny trailer. At least the new one is a little bigger, so hopefully it’ll look marginally less cluttered.
He's on the porch steps when the box tears. Books and random trinkets scatter in the grass. Steve swears and drops to his knees.
A shoebox is in the dirt, lid half open. It's labeled PRIVATE in big, black letters.
Maybe, Steve thinks later, he should've looked away. But he's tired and annoyed, and he figures one look at Eddie's stash of titty magazines won't kill either of them.
There's no titties in the box. What greets him instead is his own face, eyes closed, features limp. A polaroid of him, asleep by Eddie’s hospital bed. One of the kids must've taken it, given it to Eddie after he woke up.
There's more.
Wrappers from the candy he snuck in when Eddie wouldn't stop whining about the hospital food.
The card and little stuffed bear Dustin insisted he buy from the gift shop, because everyone was supposed to get Eddie something. The bear is wearing a tiny shirt. It says Get well beary soon. Steve frowns. Why would Eddie keep a secret box full of worthless junk he gave him, like some schoolgirl with a-
…
Oh.
“Stevie?” Eddie hollers from inside. “Are you still alive? Do you need me-?”
“No!” Steve yelps. He drops the bear as if singed, then crams everything back into the shoebox, slamming the lid shut so hard the cardboard dents. “I mean … stay where you are, you're supposed to be resting.”
“I'd rest a lot easier if you weren't smashing my stuff left and right,” Eddie grumbles. “But whatever you say.”
Steve's head feels light and tingly as he carries the shoebox over to the van.
Looks like he'll need to have a talk with Eddie soon. Beary soon, preferably.
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fanfic#steddie brainrot#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#steddiemicrofic#hype's microfics
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“Still alive?”
Eddie Munson x female reader
summary: a relaxing day at home and eddie wants to play.
warnings: smut, language, mentions of spanking, reader calls herself fat, rough sex.
There was something so sexy about watching you paint. Maybe it was how your face scrunched up in concentration. Maybe it was how cute you looked, hair put up and comfy clothes with old paint stains. It was a hot day, so it was spent inside for the both of you. Eddie had lounged on the couch all day watching movies, a cold beer in his hand. When you broke out your canvas and paints, he didn’t pay much more attention to the film on screen. He watched as the white board turned into a bowl of fruit. First it was grapes, then a red apple, then a pear. Now you were working on a pineapple, halfway down with the green and brown spikey stems.
You looked adorable. Little grey, snug shorts just cut at the curve of your backside, black crop top covered in colored paint stains. Your paintbrush end was in your mouth, your eyes into slits as you thought about your painting. You always criticized your work. He didn’t understand why. You were extremely creative. You’d entered into the local fair and won awards almost every year. You liked your paintings to tell a story, is what you always told Eddie.
The polaroid camera sat on the coffee table beside him, and he quietly reached over and brought it to eye level, clicking the button as the room quickly flashed. You jumped at the noise. “Hey,” You looked back with a smile. “I look a mess!”
“You look beautiful.” He corrected for you, setting the camera back down as he held the polaroid. “I’ve been watching you for hours now. I don’t know what the hell I’m even watching now.”
“Friday the 13th chapter 2.” You laughed, turning back to your painting. “I wondered why I felt eyes at the back of my head. Thought maybe we had a ghost.”
“Oh, no.” He shook the picture. “So scary.”
He groaned loudly as he sat up from the couch, glancing at the tv as Jason sliced someone up with his machete, and happily trotted over to you. “Look how pretty.” He swung his arms around your neck, bending down to show you the picture with a cheesy smile.
“God, I look fat.” You cringed. “I’m slouched over. Throw that shit away.” You waved your hand so you wouldn’t have to see it.
“Fat?” He said incredulously. “It’s amazing how you can turn my compliments into insults. You’re too harsh on yourself, babe.” He put the picture in his back pocket, clapping your shoulder. “So, tell me what the story is with this beautiful bowl of fruit.”
“Farmers market opens next week.” You touched up your stem on the pineapple. “Thought maybe they’d like to hang this up by the register.”
“That’s nice of you.” He smiled, admiring the bright colors. “Joyce get hired there?”
“Mhm.” You hummed. “Starts opening day. I think Nancy wants to get a job there too.” You tilted your neck to the side as he kissed it lovingly under your ear.
“Mhm.” His vibrations warmed your neck.
You smiled, dipping your brush in yellow paint. “You’re gonna mess me up, Eddie.”
He dipped down to your shoulder, pulling down your tank top strap to kiss the exposed skin. “Don’t let me distract you, babydoll. Just lovin’ on what’s mine.”
“What’s yours?” You raised a brow in amusement.
He hummed back in response and you could feel his smile on your skin. “Eddie,” You rolled your head back. “I’ve got to finish this by tomorrow.”
“Come on, play with me.” He came up to kiss your cheek, making your smirk. “I’m tired of watching movies.”
You rolled your eyes and put down your paintbrush. “Fine,” You dramatized. “You want your dick sucked?”
“You make having sex with me sound like a chore,” He scoffed, pushing his curls out of his face. “I’m so touched.”
You chuckled and grabbed at his shirt. “Shut up.” You pressed your lips against his, standing on your tipy-toes. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he slowly walked you the both back to the couch. When the backs of his knees hit the couch he laid down, pulling you on top of him.
You kissed him slowly and lovingly, noses rubbing together, little sounds mixing with the violence on the tv screen. Your bare legs rubbed against his jeans, a little warmth growing in your belly of contentment. “Am I boring you?” He cupped the back of your neck, lightly pulling at your hair.
“A little.” You challenged, grinding your clothed body against his own. You whimpered when his large hand cupped the space between your legs, adding pressure in just the right spot.
“There she is.” He smirked slightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. “See, if I was boring you, angel, you wouldn’t make that pretty sound, now would you?”
“More.” You breathed, leaning into his opposite hand he had on your face, your pussy pounding in the palm of his other.
“I don’t know,” He tsked, petting your face. “You were getting a little too mouthy for my liking, sweetheart. Maybe I should spank that bad attitude out of you, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t let you come.” He rubbed his hand against your shorts, his dirty words making you throb desperately. 
“Please,” You begged, fluttering your eyes. “I want to come so bad. I’m sorry for being bad.” You could feel how hard he was against your bare thigh, and you reached out to palm his erection just like what he was doing with you.
He stiffened with a small groan. “Fuck. You’re a fuckin’ wet little thing, aren’t ya’?”
You nodded quickly, reconnecting your lips together in a quick tangle, rocking your bodies together like the ocean currents against the sand. You tumbled together, furiously removing articles of pesky clothing until your naked bodies were on display. Your wet arousal shined between your thighs, his hard cock resting against your slit as you tongue danced with him.
He sat up and twisted you around so he could be on top, leaning down to kiss you hard, dark curls falling down like a curtain. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”
You blushed deeply at the demand, obeying his words as you did so. You whimpered when he looked down at your push, aligning the tip of his thick cock. “Beg me for it.” He pushed out a husky breath.
You groaned and rolled your head to the side, arching your back for me. “Please,”
He rubbed himself up and down, circling your clit that send electric shock waves into your body, making you shake. “More.”
“Please, please, Eddie,” You had tears in your eyes. “I want your cock so fucking bad, please- oh,” He pushed himself in, the both of you simultaneously moaning. He thrusted in, bottoming out, his balls against the curvature of your backside.
He grabbed your hands and put them above your head, holding them there tightly as he began pounding into you. You’d never done it in this position before, not with your legs like this. It only made it more exciting for you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cried, panting heavily as tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. He looked down to his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy, your arousal making him glisten. He grunted, the weight of his thrusts making the couch squeak across the floor.
“Oh, god!” You sobbed, trying to move your hands. “Right there! Just like that, please don’t stop!” Your praises only made him go harder, your legs still dangling on his shoulders. He fucked you hard and deep, his cock abusing your g spot. You knew you wouldn’t be able to walk after this.
Your orgasm brewed in your stomach, your legs shaking from how cruel he was with you. You loved it in every way. “Gonna be my good girl again?” His words came out shaky, still domineering.
“Mhm, yes!” You mewled, arching your back. “Oh, god, you feel so good, give it to me, give it to me-” You chanted, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone.
“Fuck,” His stomach warmed and the ball inside was tight, coming down to kiss your lips. He let go of one of your hands to slap your clit, making you squeal. “Bad girl.” He trembled, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Been a bad- shit, bad little girl,”
“I’m close.” You cried, singing whimpers of songs that made him climb the ladder to release. “Almost, almost,”
Both of you came simultaneously, you sobbed and whimpered with you, his hips moving slower, but deep to ride through the release. He collapsed on top of you, his softening cock still inside of you. Your vision was blurry, your legs falling off his shoulders. Your breathing was erratic like you had been punched in the gut.
He gave you a wet kiss on the side of your neck, a tired graze of his lips that tickled. “Still alive?”
You chuckled, holding out a thumbs up to him.
#lana’s shit post#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#stranger things#stranger things season four#joseph quinn#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader
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It started with babes. Babes is completely platonic right? Nothing out of the ordinary there. Eddie was known for being over dramatic, why would nicknames -or in this case, pet names- be any different?
Babes wasn't even that over the top, so why was Steve blushing like a school girl after it was said in passing?
Steve definitely knew why, although, he was going to pretend he didn't. But he knew, about himself, about Eddie. A couple months after spring break '86 Steve had a very enlightening talk with Robin about his feelings. Towards Munson. Those completely and totally platonic feelings.
And a couple weeks later, as though Eddie was so in tune with Steve's discovery, Eddie came out to Steve at a campfire with Robin and Nance. Those two had wandered off, Eddie made some comment about "Good for Robs," before realizing his mistake. That was, until Steve said "Yeah, good for Robs," and Eddie just had to ask.
"You know about her? Y'know..."
"What? Eddie? Of course! She's my best friend."
"And you're ok with it?" Eddie was kind of shocked. Great 'King' Steve wasn't going to sick the dogs on Hawkins Local Lesbian? And it seemed like he had known longer than Eddie?
"Yeah, when you survive hell and back enough it's pretty hard to hate anyone for being gay." Steve left off the part where he was also into guys. He knew Eddie was ok with that, clearly ok with Robin, but Eddie might not be ok with being the guy Steve was into.
"Oh. Well," Eddie didn't know if it was the couple beers he had downed, or his newfound safety with this big ol' group of misfits, but he was comfortable asking Steve, "What if I was like Robin too?"
"Are you?" Steve asked. He wasn't going to get his hopes up over hypotheticals, but he could admit he had feelings for the older boy. He wasn't sure what feelings to be honest,but he was figuring that out as he went. He just knew they were more than platonic.
"Well, technically I'm the opposite of Robin, y'know. Not attracted to women. But yeah, I am." Eddie stared into the camp fire, torn between hoping that it would eat him alive, or that it would simply stare back.
"Okay, thanks for trusting me." Steve responded, plain as day.
He had asked Robin, if someone were to come out to him (granted they were not just drugged by Russians), what would she have wanted to hear. And he finally got the chance to use it, seeing the way Eddie's shoulders dropped in relief.
"So you're like actually ok with it?"
"Like I said, been to hell and back with you, who you love doesn't mean a thing over that."
" Yeah," Eddie said,"But most straight guys don't like it when gay guys flirt relentlessly with them."
"We'll keep that one between us then, won't we?" Steve wasn't entirely ready to correct Eddie on the straight thing, so he just didn't acknowledge that part. He chose to ignore the blush rise on his face, blaming it internally on the heat of the fire.
He also tried to ignore that at that point, the nicknames picked up.
It started with babes. Then baby, which made Steve's brain flutter. Then sweetheart. Eddie only used that one when he wanted something, and yet Steve still loved it. Stevie was one of the fan favorites. Not really a pet name, but used just as lovingly as one. Sometimes Eddie held out the end, in a sing-song voice. Made Steve weak in the knees. Eddie knew what he was doing.
It was babe that made Steve do something about it. Eddie used sweetheart, baby, Stevie, around everyone. In front of the kids, on his various trips to Family Video (whether to buy or annoy, who knew). But babe. Babe was just for Steve and Steve alone.
So of course, the only logical order of events was for Steve to start using them back.
It started with babe, the obvious choice. Fight fire with fire, or whatever. The meaningless pet names ended with babes too.
Because after Eddie kissed Steve to shut him up, they suddenly had meaning.
#short n sweet cause ive been gone for too long#in more personal news! just got cast as one of my lifelong dream roles in theatre yesterday!#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve stranger things#eddie stranger things#steddie blurb#steddie drabble#steddie fanfic#steddie ficlet#pet names
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Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby
Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie
⚠️18+: sexual tension, slight drinking, pining, smut. yes. smut. loads of it. i won't spoil it, but yes, everything. (no omegaverse)
wc: 16K
A/N: roe finished a new chapter of baring teeth and it didnt take her 6 months? lets call that progress! i hope yall enjoy this one...
Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!
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CHAPTER 17
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
You are dying. You are absolutely certain you are fucking dying. You were regaining consciousness and you wanted anything but that. Why be alive when you feel like this? Your stomach is messed up, your head is banging tremendously and you feel as if a bulldozer ran over your entire body.
You mustered a small whine, and you tried to stretch your limbs but everything was painful. Everything hurt and you wondered what you did to deserve to feel like this. Well, you could not have drank as much as you did the day before, so maybe you do deserve it a little for not having any self-control.
You didn’t want to open your eyes.
You could already feel the light burning your pupils through your eyelids. It was an orange hue, and you couldn’t manage to even open a bit of your eye. You just want to rot in bed until you actually die. What impulsed you to drink that much yesterday? And how did you even get home? How did you manage to get in bed if you knew you couldn’t stand by yourself?
You whimpered in pain as you tossed on the bed. You could smell the smoke of the club on you, probably still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. You could feel the tightness of the shirt and the elastic of the pants. You could also smell cologne, one that is quite familiar if you had to be honest. It was wooden, kind of, but it was very penetrating.
You whined this time as you received another pang on your head, the more conscious you became, the more you were aware of your headache. The more your stomach turns. The more you grew uncomfortable in every position you turned, making your distressed noises louder.
“Can you shut the fuck up?”
Now, that made the headache leave for just a second because your eyes snapped open like plates as you lay on your side. And there, looking at his profile, was Eddie, with an arm over his eyes in order to cover them. Your heart stopped completely, and then you could hear the blood rushing to your face, to your ears, even behind your eyes.
You, where were you? Why is Eddie next to you? Why is he here? Why? Oh, god. Did you two… Oh fuck, oh no, you would remember it, wouldn’t you? You definitely would… But what if you didn’t?
You felt a cold sweat invade your body as you quickly sat up on the bed, opening your mouth to talk, but the sudden movement was a bad idea, because as soon as you did it, your stomach betrayed you. It swirled around, the nausea unbearable and soon you realized you were in Eddie’s home.
You could worry about the reason for being here later, you need to run to the bathroom, quick. You haven’t been to his room, ever, and you quickly got up from the bed, ignoring the ache that your body felt, and rushed out of the room, leaving Eddie on the bed.
He was in his own hell as well. Probably not as bad as yours, but he still felt pretty horrible. His head wasn’t the problem, it was mostly his stomach, and hearing you emptying your own on the toilet from across the hall was making it all worse. He groaned as he slowly got up from the bed, feet hitting the floor and–
“Fuck.” Was his only response as his stomach yelled for attention. He quickly got up and rushed down the spiral steel staircase, his feet clinking and rattling it all as he rushed to the secondary bathroom below, right next to the kitchen.
You were hugging the toilet seat now, your throat burning from the intensity of the emptying of your stomach. You hated vomit. You hated to puke… But sometimes it was what your body needed, and as minutes passed and you were sure there was nothing else, you did feel slightly better. Your stomach was a bit more settled than before, not swirling as much.
You flushed the toilet, and with a groan, you got up on wobbly legs. You felt disgusting, wearing the same clothes as the night before, but you weren’t going to ask Eddie for clothes. No. What were you doing here anyways? How did you even get here?
The clothes were a clear indicator that nothing happened the night before. You can barely remember the club. The last thing you remember was the champagne you were taking, and then beer? You had flashes of dancing with Robin and Nancy, then with Steve… Why are you here with Eddie?
You looked around the bathroom, and it was dark, industrial style, just like his whole house. Black walls, or bricked, with steel and wood furniture. You walked to the sink and you almost screamed at the reflection. Your makeup was all over your face, your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, and you’re pretty sure you had dried drool from the corner of your mouth to your ear.
You looked like a monster. You wanted to shower, you wanted to wash yourself, take everything off, and take care of the fucking headache you were suffering. You looked around and decided to open the cabinet of his mirror. You found some face lotion, and it might help with the removal of your makeup, but something else caught your attention.
A pill bottle, with Eddie’s name on it. You reached towards it, wanting to know the name of the medicine he was taking as your curiosity picked up. Your hand stopped when you heard the clinking of the stairs, signaling he was coming back up. You put a bit of lotion in your hand before putting it back inside the cabinet, closing it.
You put your hair behind your ears with the hand you had no lotion on, and then began to clean your eyes with the cream. You then rubbed it all over in rushed motions, feeling dirty all over. You turned on the water, letting it warm up as you kept rubbing the lotion into your skin. You then bent over to wash your face, rubbing your hands and taking off the cream and makeup as best as you could.
You straightened up, looked into the mirror again and rubbed underneath your bottom waterline to take the last bit of mascara off. It wasn’t completely clean, but at least it was better than before and you felt tidier. You grabbed the toothpaste and put a bit on your finger to then try to brush your teeth with it. You gurgled some water with it, making it foam in your mouth before spitting on the sink.
You wiped your mouth and you groaned as you felt the headache hit again. You looked at the door and dread came over you as you knew you had to face the owner of the house. You took a deep breath in and walked out of the bathroom and then took steps into Eddie’s room, only to find him shirtless, looking through his drawer, his back turned towards you.
Your eyes were transfixed onto the ink on his back, finally being able to see it. He had a demon, an imp, on his right shoulder and moving down, and then some kind of markings, or symbols, followed by other drawings on his other side. You couldn’t help but stare at him, your head tilted to the side as you studied him, but the panging in your head made you snap out completely.
“Fuck…” You whimpered and that made Eddie finally turn around, tiredness in his features, his hair down. He felt his stomach turn in anticipation of seeing you after last night, wondering what conversation would be presented today.
“Morning.” You only grunted at his response as you held your head. He gave a nod as he rapidly threw a shirt over himself and then looked inside his dresser again, taking another shirt out and throwing it on the bed, as well as some pair of sweatpants on a drawer below. “Here, wear these. Yours smell like alcohol and smoke.”
You rolled your eyes at him which only made you wince. You gave him a nod as you walked towards the clothing on the bed and he was expectantly looking at you. If you were faking you didn’t remember, you were a great actress. You were acting almost normal, but probably it was the fact you couldn’t even think. You looked horribly sick if he was being honest.
“Thanks… You have any advil? Ibuprofen? Just anything, a gun works too.” You joked with a raspy voice and he chuckled, rubbing his own head.
“Yeah, I’ll wait for you downstairs.” He left the room, going back towards the stairs to try to prepare the ibuprofen and some breakfast for the two of you. He was gonna wait until you were a little more focused, but what if you actually didn’t remember anything from yesterday night? He remembered it all.
He remembered the way your lips felt on his, the way you were desperately eating him whole, your tongue, your taste, your scent… He remembered it all despite the haziness of the drinks. He remembered how his hands wrapped around you, gripping your body and pulling you to him. How you pressed yourself on him, moaning into his mouth and–
If he doesn’t stop thinking about it he is going to get a hard on and he won’t be able to either hide it or control himself with you here.
You looked towards the clothes on the bed, and your gut turned at the idea of wearing something of his, but the night clothes were a little too much already. The elastics were killing you and you really wanted to wear something comfortable for your headache and overall state.
You gulped as you slowly took off your clothes, wobbling a bit due to the dizziness the headache provoked. First, the top. You realized quickly that you had no bra on, the cups of the top having pads on for support. You felt heat spread on your face as you pondered on putting the shirt on or not.
But being comfortable won over embarrassment, and you quickly put it on. A little loose, which helped with the lack of bra look. Then, you took off your pants and you felt so relieved to toss those constricting, yet really nice, pants away. You quickly put on his sweatpants, tying up the knot on the waist so they wouldn’t fall. You looked down at your bare feet and you looked around his room for the first time.
You saw pictures hanging on the wall, posters, vinyls in frames, and then a guitar. It was red, and it was certainly from the 90’s or 80’s. That must be Eddie’s most precious guitar. Then you turned towards the pictures that were on a corkboard, all pinned up. You saw him with Steve, then a picture of him with Nancy, and you smiled as you saw a picture of him in a green graduation gown, holding a diploma with his uncle next to him.
Your smile faltered a bit at seeing his uncle. He had shown you pictures of him, but never ones that were when he was completely healthy. He looked like another man. You took a deep breath in, about to look for something to wear on your feet, but then a picture caught your attention.
It was a picture of you two. It was a picture Steve had taken while sitting in Jonathan’s bar. You were looking at eachother, drinks in hand, smiling. You felt your heart start to beat rapidly the more you looked at it because you two looked like a couple. Steve had uploaded the story on Instagram and more than one person had asked if you two were dating.
Why couldn’t they understand you two were friends?
Why can’t you understand that?
Just friends.
You snapped out of your thoughts as you looked on the floor, seeing a pair of slippers. You put them on, giggling at the size difference, but you didn’t want to catch a cold for going barefoot on cold floors.
You walked out of the room and headed downstairs, the clinking announcing your appearance to the man who was cooking some grilled sandwiches for the two of you. You grimaced at the smell, your stomach turning at the idea of eating something. Could you even get anything down?
“As much as I appreciate the food, I don’t think I can eat anything Munson.” You sighed as you walked towards the kitchen stools to sit at the island counter. His back was towards you, his hair up in a bun this time, much to your dismay. You shook that thought away, closing your eyes as you felt another pang of pain thanks to your headache.
He turned around and the air got knocked out of his lungs as he saw you with his clothes on. Maybe giving you something else to wear was a bad idea. It was worse than seeing you in your club clothes. Way worse. He felt heat run all over his body as he stared at you while you rubbed your temple.
How are you able to get him riled up by just wearing his Limp Biskit shirt?
“You’re gonna eat because it will make you feel better.” He went towards his fridge to get his jar of water out, placing it on the island counter where he had already put two glasses for both of you and a pill of ibuprofen.
You immediately lunged forward, filling both glasses with water and grabbing the pill. You threw it into your mouth and chugged the entire glass in a matter of seconds, realizing how dehydrated you were. He was stunned, wide eyed, looking at your display. He already had some water and his own medicine, but he grabbed the glass either way and took a sip from it.
“Shit…” You moaned with delight at the cold liquid running down your dry throat. Eddie’s grip on his glass tightened at the sound as he quickly turned around, trying to think of anything but you. You, who was sitting in his house in his clothes and did you think that he didn’t notice you didn’t have a bra on?
He put the glass on the counter and flipped both sandwiches from the pan to the two plates he had prepared. He grabbed them and turned again to put a plate in front of you and then one for himself, sitting across. He grabbed his glass and sat down with a groan, which caught your attention.
You felt your body becoming hot as you side-eyed him. You wanted to kill him for looking so good, even with a hangover. You probably looked like a wet raccoon that was kicked multiple times out of a Chuck E. Cheese.
“So…” He started, wondering if you showed any kind of nervousness, any at all, but he didn’t see any of that, perplexing him. Just a pained face after taking the first bite of your sandwich, making him frown. “Hey, it’s not that bad.”
“It’s not, I just feel like I have a war in my stomach.” You forced yourself to eat another bite as he took a bite from his. It was silent for a second, your stomach turning in nerves as you looked at him. “How uh… How did I end up here?”
And now Eddie knew you didn’t remember shit. He couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief at the situation. You two finally crossed the line and you didn’t remember it at all. You tilted your head as an angry frown came to your eyebrows at the lack of response. He cleared his throat as he took a sip of his water and then looked at you.
“Argyle. You were too smashed to go home alone.” He stated and looked back down at his sandwich, taking another bite from it. You read his expression, noticing a certain frustration behind his tone.
“Did I… was I a burden? Did I cause trouble for you?” And he looked up at you, realizing how he came across, and shook his head, your shoulders losing the tension you didn’t know you were holding. You suddenly noticed that he had his TV on, music playing in low.
“No, you weren’t. It’s just my hangover face, Peach.” He cleared his throat as you nodded and took a bite of your sandwich, noticing the more you ate, the easier it was to gulp food down. He licked his lips as his eyes kept looking at your face. “I’m guessing you don’t remember shit from last night?”
And you rubbed your temples in embarrassment. It was all foggy. Absolutely everything. Flashes of the night coming to you, but it was just you dancing, or drinking, or grinding against Robin.
“Not most of it, no… I drank too much. That first bucket of champagne was a mistake.” You giggled and looked up, connecting your eyes to his. He was looking at you with a serious face on, but you felt yourself sinking into the brown irises, your smile faltering as you felt those stupid butterflies in your stomach.
There was silence between the two of you and then you heard it in the background. A song. “Pray for me” by The Weeknd started playing.
More flashes.
Someone. You made out with someone.
You remember the cologne.
It was the same cologne–
Your eyes widened like plates as you almost fell out of your stool, gasping as the memory became clearer the more you listened to the song. No, no, it cannot be. No, it was someone alike. Eddie only smirked as he sat back on the stool and took a slow sip of his water, realizing you had remembered.
“No… We didn’t. Right? We–”
“Made out? Yeah. Glad you could remember Peach.”
Your body froze, and your blood went cold as you sat there. You felt it draining from your body, not knowing where it was ending at, but that was the least of your problems. You started remembering it vividly.
The intensity of it, his tongue, his smell, his taste, the way he pressed himself into you, how he devoured you and you didn’t hesitate to return the favor. You slowly placed your elbows on the counter and you grabbed onto your head, running your fingers through your hair as you clenched your eyes tightly.
“Oh god…” Eddie only chuckled at your response, taking a bite out of his sandwich.
“And you were the one that came onto me. Didn’t think you’d be that bold.” He was mocking you, but the embarrassment washed over you as you remembered how you pressed your ass against him on purpose, trying to rile him up. He even warned you that you were crossing a line.
Not only that, but you remembered that you were the one who kissed him. You were the one who made all the first moves yesterday night. All the flirting, all the innuendos. It was all you. You fucked up. You fucked it up.
“Shut up… Goddamnit Eddie, shut up.” He grinned at your words, looking over at you as he raised his eyebrows.
“That’s the same thing you said before you kissed me–” And you slammed your hands on the counter, glaring up at him as you felt your body burning with anger, embarrassment, shame, and also arousal. You couldn’t deny how good it felt. How amazing he was. How perfectly you two molded together.
“We’re gonna forget it happened.” That was your response, making Eddie’s smile fall completely. Were you serious? Forget it? After weeks of dancing around the line you two didn’t know if it was worth crossing? A line that was crossed already?
“Humor me. Why?” His voice was low, a bit threatening as if he was warning you to choose your words carefully. You straightened up, clearing your throat as you held your head high, showing him your word was final.
“Because… It was the alcohol. We’re friends, just that.” And oh, that made him mad. So you think you can rile him up, kiss him, give him the idea something more can happen, only to then say this? He felt played with. Even he never fell that low. He was always honest with his needs, with his wants. Girls he hooked up with and got attached, he cut them off to spare them from heartbreak.
“Right. Friends.” He chuckled humorlessly at that, shaking his head as he looked down at his glass of water, taking a sip from it, hoping the cold drink would simmer the flames down a bit. You frowned at his response, crossing your arms over your chest.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He shook his head as he looked back at you.
“Are you always that touchy with your friends?” Your breathing stopped at his question. The air around the two of you grew tense and heavy. You felt it pushing you down onto the floor, like an elephant’s foot. He was staring at you with a piercing gaze, and you felt a shiver running down your spine as you saw how he was inspecting you.
You clenched your legs together as you moved in your stool, trying to ignore the ache that was forming between them. It was just a stupid crush, a crush that had to pass. But he couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips as he stared at you, as if he had figured out something from you.
“Maybe. I made out with Robin once.” You admitted, and honestly, you did. And Eddie knew it, he was there when it happened. A guy was not leaving Robin alone, not understanding the word no. So you did what a good friend does. Pretend you are their partner.
“That was situational. Ours was a little different, don’t you think?” His voice was low, angry. You understood him, you truly did. You’ve been following this game of flirting with him, you are to blame for this one, but now you know that it cannot happen again. You are not satisfied with just one kiss, but nothing else can happen between you two.
You can’t lose Eddie. You are too fond of the friendship you have.
“And it won’t happen again. Like I said, I was– driven by alcohol, and you were drunk too.” You tried justifying it, and it only fueled Eddie’s irritation. He wanted to kill you right now, or rather, bend you over the counter so he could fuck your brains out until you forgot your name. Show you everything he could do to you, ruin you for everyone else.
You two were looking at eachother, the air completely charged, the sparks flying all over the place. You felt your heart beating in your throat and you saw him opening his mouth, only to then chuckle and shake his head, making you frown.
“Right. Let’s pretend it didn’t happen.” And his gaze went back to his sandwich, finishing it in three bites. You blinked once, not expecting it. Why did you feel disappointed? He agreed with you, didn’t he? What else were you expecting? It’s not like he was gonna force you… or convince you… or punish you for what you did the night before.
You opened your mouth to talk to him again, only for a ringing to interrupt you. He looked over to his phone, answering it with one swipe. You heard Steve’s voice on the other side, making you tilt your head. You whispered to him, a frown on your eyebrows.
“Is that Steve?” Eddie shushed you with a swat of his hand, continuing to talk to his friend.
“I can’t understand shit Steve.” Again, you heard Steve on the other side, almost yelling at him. Eddie clenched his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I forgot, but I have a hangover, can you blame me?” More talking on Steve’s end as Eddie nodded. “Alright man, stop yelling at me, the ibuprofen didn’t kick in yet, and I’m a little… irritated at the moment.” A glare was sent your way and your mouth dropped in disbelief.
Why is he irritated? You were just being civil, rational, a good friend that doesn’t want to throw the friendship away for a simple fuck. Were you wrong for doing that? Were you an evil person for it? You scrunched your nose at him, anger now fueling you at his attitude and you stood up from the stool as he watched you while talking on the phone.
You walked towards the couch, seeing your shoes sitting on the side. You winced at the idea of wearing the heels again, but it was your only footwear to go home. Eddie hung up and stared at your figure as you scratched your head, not turning to look at him. He felt your irritation, as well as your nervousness, or uncertainty. He wasn’t sure.
“I need to call a cab and go home. I just want to lay down and rot.” He wanted to go towards you and kiss you senseless again so you realized how hard it would be to forget about it. How stupid is it to even try to forget about it, like you are doing right now. Wanting to change the subject, pretending you hadn’t just remembered everything from last night.
But he understood as well. The mixed feelings of crossing a line that maybe you were afraid of doing so. He closed his eyes, coming to terms that maybe that was it. He won’t be able to taste you again, nor taste you fully. He won’t be able to know your body, to know what you like. He won’t be able to have you the way he wants to, because you value his friendship.
So, he will accept your decision.
“I’ll take you home. I have to go to Steve’s anyway.” His voice startled you, making you turn to look at him. He had to make up for his irritation from before, probably telling you some of his truth. “I get touchy when drunk too. I made out with Nancy once. Kissed Argyle on the mouth, as well as Robin. I received a punch from her though.”
You blinked at his comment, confusion and– disappointment filling your core once more. What? Wasn’t he angry before? You felt the air lose its tension, and the hotness you felt around you left, only making you yearn for it again.
“Oh…” Is all you muttered, not knowing what else to say. He sighed, getting up from the stool, and pointing a finger at you with a serious look in his eyes.
“You though, you owe me.” You were startled by the statement, tilting your head with a squint of your eyes.
“What? Why!?” You raised your hands up in a motion of ‘What did I do?’, making him chuckle.
“Because I had to deal with your drunken ass yesterday. I couldn’t leave you alone, what if you choked on your own vomit Peach? Also, I cooked for you and saved you from a headache.” He gave a few taps to his temple and you rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Oh, so you being a good friend means I owe you?” And that comment was not liked. Neither of you liked that. You didn’t like calling him that… but he cannot be more than that. Eddie’s eyebrow twitched, but he masqueraded it with a grin on his face.
“Me being a good friend doesn't come for free.”
And him saying it… only made you even more annoyed.
Things returned to normal after it and you didn’t like it one bit. It was your decision, it was your say. It was you the one who told him you two were just that. Friends. Friends who send eachother tik toks, memes, joke about what happened at work to both of you that day.
Just like before. Before the bantering. Before you– Before you broke up with Billy. Those first days of friendship, those first weeks and months where it was just you two having fun. Sure, you have noticed his instagram stories before, but you hadn’t paid attention to them. You never lingered more than one second on the story. Now, you lingered five… maybe ten. Maybe you even took a screenshot here and there.
You had to stop. You had to, but as the days passed, you remember the kiss more and more. You remembered the heat of his body, the way your fingers ran through his hair, the way you wanted his leg to press in between your thighs, and how he gripped your waist and held you tight.
It was intense and you wanted that intensity once more. You wanted to feel him again and even more. It wasn’t enough, and you told him it was, lying to him as well as yourself. You weren’t an idiot… you knew he was pissed about your decision, but he still respected it. It was just a crush. It was just that and you two had to leave it behind.
But can you?
Can you really put it behind you? How? How when you hadn’t tried him the way you wanted to? How when you touch yourself to thoughts of him? How when you still hadn’t returned his shirt and sweatpants from a week ago and you still use them to sleep?
And how can you put it behind you when the bastard looks fucking great in a goddamn short-sleeved black turtle neck, showing off his tattoos as he pours drinks for him and Steve in the kitchen of his house.
You were standing on a corner, next to Jonathan as you two watched the people all around you. You had greeted Jeff and Gareth, Eddie’s coworkers, or well… workers since he is the boss of the shop. Then all your friends were here too but then… there were also strangers.
“I think they’re friends from clubs? Or– I don’t know who the fuck these people are.” Jonathan comments while you take a sip of your beer, promising yourself to not drink much tonight. Who knows what you might do if you have more than what you can take?
“I have no clue… maybe it’s friends from friends from friends…” You tried to pitch in but– You couldn’t help to look at all the girls that were in his home. You heard the doorbell ring, even through the music and Eddie patted Steve’s shoulder before going to get it. He opened the door and you took a sharp inhale of breath as you saw a blonde greeting him with two other girls behind her.
Eddie smiled at them and the grip on your can tightened. You felt your stomach flipping, and you tried to push it away as best as you could. They’re just friends. Absolutely. Of course, just like you are, or Nancy or Robin. Just friends.
But you couldn’t help but wonder if he fucked one of the girls here… or a few.
You didn’t believe Eddie would be stupid enough to put girls he fucked in the same place, well, unless he planned to fuck more than one. That thought made you take a large sip of your can. You had tried to set your eyes on someone else but you couldn’t. Your eyes drifted to the same dark-haired man with tattoos showing.
You realized you ran out of beer and saw Steve sauntering over. You excused yourself to get another can, moving through the people that laughed and drank. It wasn’t a big party, but there were many people, probably twenty, or a bit more. You reached the kitchen and opened his fridge to take a can out, only to feel another presence next to you.
“Now, don’t overdo it tonight Peach. Don’t want to take care of you again.” You closed your eyes as you felt irritation bubble inside of you, turning to look at him. His eyes scanned your face, his eyes moving down your body as you turned to put the can on the island counter behind you, opening it.
You were wearing a small simple black dress with straps, heels on your feet. It wasn’t too much, but it wasn’t casual. Your perfume was a tad stronger than other times, knowing you sprayed yourself a few more times than you usually did. He stood next to you, grunting when he realized the drink he prepared before was gone, grabbing another red cup for himself to start preparing himself another one.
“Don’t worry Munson, not planning to. It’s my second one of the night, and we have been here for two hours already.” You say as you take a sip of your can. His eyebrow raised up in question at the hint of anger behind your voice. The irritated tone you delivered that phrase with.
“Damn, if you are getting bored you can leave Peach.” He says as he rolls his eyes, pouring rum into his cup. You side glare at him, looking at all the people around you.
“Who are all of these people anyway?” You asked and he looked at you and then at the people around him.
“Friends I met, some were clients from my shop, and then it’s just friends of friends.” And that was that. Before you could even process it, the next question was out of your lips with so much venom that you didn’t even recognize it yourself.
“And I bet you fucked more than two of the women here, right?” He was shocked at your question and before he could say anything you were gone.
And now, Eddie Munson was angry.
He was fucking pissed, and as he took the first sip of his drink, he knew you weren’t going to leave his home tonight. Not without answering the many questions he has. Why were you playing hard to get? Why tell him to be just friends and then say stuff like this? Why tell him to forget it all when you clearly didn’t want to either?
He clenched his jaw as he walked towards Leslie, an old worker at his shop before she got married. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he talked, a smile on his face as he did.
“And George stayed home tonight, playing with his own friends. I just needed a night out by myself you know?” She says and Eddie nods at that as Gareth chuckles, shaking his head.
“I can’t believe you are married still. I remember when you told us you didn’t believe in such things as marriage and shit.” Eddie smiled as Leslie started bantering with Gareth, but he caught something in the corner of his eye.
You.
You were looking his way. It was a mixture of a glare and a squint as Nancy talked with Robin. You straightened up and pretended to look around you instead of him and directed your eyes back to your two friends. His jaw clenched once more as he realized what you were looking at. He wasn’t a fucking idiot, and you were pissing him off.
He had been civil, not letting the kiss ruin the friendship you two had before, just like you wanted. He had been sending you memes all week, talking about your car and even making fun of you still about how old it is. No flirty remarks like before, but now you do this.
Why do you care if he fucked any of the girls here? Why do you have to make those kinds of comments to him? Why would you glare his way because he had his arm around another girl’s arm? Why would you tell him to forget about the kiss and stay friends and just that, and you act like this?
And you, you don’t want to be obvious, but you can’t help yourself. You are watching the girls that talk to Eddie throughout the night, see with whom he acts differently. Maybe see if seeing him flirting with someone else makes you realize that your decision was correct. That your decision of staying just friends was the good one. You know it is. You know it is for the entire group dynamic, not just the two of you.
But why do you have this sensation of regret? Of knowing you might be missing a chance? You want to shake off the feeling, the nauseous-like feeling swirling around in your stomach. Maybe it’s time to stop drinking for the night. You place the half-empty can on the small table next to the couch and see Eddie leading the girl he had his arm around up the stairs, where his room was.
Your stomach twisted and you closed your eyes because you were being dumb. You and he didn’t do anything, you just made out, nothing special. He is just a friend, you wanted this, you have to keep your word. You have to–
“You okay?” You’re startled by Robin, looking at you worriedly. You blink a few times to center yourself back to the present and turn to look at her, a fake smile spreading on your lips as you nod at her.
“Yeah, just kind of spaced out.” You try for your voice to not sound strained, as if you didn’t feel your heart hammering, pounding to come out of your chest. Suddenly, you hear the stairs again as Eddie talks to the woman who follows him. A sense of relief washes over you when it was only a minute since they went upstairs, nothing could have happened.
You shouldn’t feel relief. You shouldn’t be feeling anything at all, but all you fucking remember is that kiss.
You stayed with Steve, telling him to take you home afterwards while Robin and Nancy left a bit early, as well as Argyle. One hour later all the strangers left one by one, and not a girl in sight that stayed behind. You were pitiful. You knew it. But you couldn’t help yourself.
“Ready to go?” Jonathan asked and you nodded, walking over to the coat hanger to look for your coat, only to find that it was gone. Dread filled you as you thought someone mistakenly took it, or worse, stole it. You didn’t know more than half the people in here so–
“Peach, I left your coat upstairs in my room. It was getting a little crowded in that hanger.” His voice startled you, turning to face him. He was towering over you, a look in his eyes that you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. A smile was on his lips as he kept talking, “Plus, you are staying behind.”
You frown in confusion at that, your eyes still connected with his. You tilted your head in question as Steve grabbed his coat alongside Jonathan’s jacket.
“Why? You need help cleaning?” He asks and Eddie chuckles as he looks at his best friend.
“Yeah, and she owes me. Isn’t that right… sweetheart?” He tilted his head at your nickname and you knew that it wasn’t that. He doesn’t want to clean the mess that is his living room and kitchen. Jonathan whistles as he puts on his jacket.
“Well shit, I’m glad I’m not you.” He comments and you turn around to look at them, your face still stunned at the turn of your night. Your nerves were breaking you from the inside out. Was he going to yell at you? Break the relationship for how you acted tonight?
“You’ll take her home later on?” Steve asks and Eddie’s hand presses on your right shoulder, and you notice the slight pressure on it, more than needed.
“Sure.” Steve only gives Eddie a pointed look and you didn’t want them to leave, but you couldn’t stop them. There was no excuse to make them stay, or to wait for you since you and Eddie are on good terms. They waved at the two of you and finally walked out of the door. You felt the hand on your shoulder leave you as Eddie passed by you, grabbing the keys from the small key holder next to the door and locking it.
Your heart was running wild, feeling the hot air all around you, the pressure of it, the tension. It came right at you like a punch to the gut. His head slowly turned to face you and you could now see the fire in his eyes. Eyes you never saw before. Eyes that make your knees quiver, threatening to give out on you.
“Ed–”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
His voice was deep, demanding, and authoritative. You felt a shiver run down your spine, sweat starting to form throughout your body, from the tip of your fingers to your toes. His eyes were piercing you, making you bleed. His jaw was clenched tightly and you knew you had to stand your ground here, so you crossed your arms over your chest.
“Well, helping you clean, so it seems?” You tried not to make your voice sound small, but how his body language reacted made you even more nervous. His body turned to face you completely as one step was taken towards you.
“Oh, you know very damn well you’re not staying to fucking clean.” Your heart was beating rapidly as you looked at him, feeling like a small rabbit being hunted by a wolf. You managed to gulp as you stood your ground.
“Then I don’t know what the hell you mean.” He laughed dryly, not believing your attitude right now. Better be straightforward with you before he loses his patience.
“Cut the fucking crap Peach. What the hell was that comment about the girls here? Why the fuck would you care?” You winced a bit at it, feeling ashamed and embarrassed about the outburst, but it was out of your own control.
“It was… It was just a question!” His eyes widened in disbelief for a second as he shook his head at you.
“Was it? Was it really? Because you didn’t even give me a chance to answer, so it felt more like a complaint.” He wanted to rip you apart right now. His anger and his pent-up attraction towards you were making him get way too riled up. He couldn’t believe how much you could affect him, but here he was.
“A complaint? No, it was just me wondering if there were any girls you fucked in the party, that was all.” And he only responded in a low voice.
“And so what if there were?” Your stomach flipped. He was right and you didn’t want to admit it. Not for a second. You turned around and started walking towards the stairs, needing to leave as soon as possible.
“Can’t a friend simply ask something out of curiosity?” And Eddie’s patience was about to spill out of its glass, all it needs is a few more drops. He groans, no, growls at your words as you start walking up the stairs, him following right behind, his steps louder than yours.
“A friend? A fucking friend? As far as I remember friends don’t glare at one another when they’re with someone else. As far as I fucking remember Peach, friends don’t flirt with eachother–” His voice was annoying you, your pent-up arousal towards him, your anger towards the situation, all of it was overwhelming you. “-- where the fuck are you going!?”
“Home! I’m getting the stupid coat you purposely put in your room to make me stay behind!” You reached his hallway, and you heard the quick clinking of his shoes catching up to you. You were about to turn to go into his room when suddenly you felt your shoulder being grabbed, forcing you to turn around as he slammed you against the wall, not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you in place.
His chest was moving up and down rapidly, as much as yours was, and then, his other hand came to wrap itself around your throat, not putting any pressure on it. You were about to talk, taking a breath, but you were interrupted when his lips crashed into yours. His body pressed against you, and your breath got knocked out of your lungs.
He moved forcefully, with purpose, as his lips slotted with yours, sometimes teeth knocking by the desperation of his kiss. You were stunned still, your lips being taken by his, making them move the way he wanted them to. The hand that was on your shoulder pressed on your waist now, and the smacking of lips vibrated throughout the small hallway.
Your heart hammered in your chest, your blood rushed to your ears as you felt a hot sweat, a hot wave that ran all over your body. You flushed all over as your breathing quickened. You pressed your hands on his chest and you pushed, separating him from your lips, his hands ripping away from your body as he slammed on the other side of the narrow hallway, in front of you.
You were breathing heavily just as much as he was, staring at one another with glares, with defiance, with a challenge. You were sober, and so was he. There is no excuse this time, no playing games, no lies. He waited, knowing the cards were on your side now.
And fuck the stupid invisible line.
You went forward, hands slamming on his chest to push him into the wall as you raised up to clash your lips against his, roughly, messily, your body showing him just how much you want this, how much you have been wanting this. He groaned into the kiss, delight filling him all over as you reciprocated the kiss, the neediness, the attraction.
His hand flew towards the back of your neck, pulling you into the kiss, his tongue parting your lips and you willingly let him, needing to taste the tobacco on him, just like a week ago. You needed to feel him, completely, and you just had to promise yourself one thing. One small yet enormous thing.
This has to be a one-time thing.
His other arm wrapped around your waist and your hands traveled north, towards a place that had been there a week before. Your nails went towards his hair, his half bun still holding his hair up. You wanted to rip it off, but you knew it would be a nuisance for him. His scruff tickled you as your tongues danced together, desperately, as if your time was running out somewhere in the universe.
You pressed your body against his, your belly coming in touch with the bulge that resides inside his pants, making you gasp in surprise. You felt your pussy throb in need like it always did whenever he looked better than usual. You felt your blood rushing to your head at the overwhelming feelings of it all, at how your skin was burning you, like a raging fire.
He groaned into your mouth as he devoured your lips, his tongue ravishing yours, fighting for dominance. Goosebumps raised on his skin as he felt your nails graze his nape, and he needed you. He needed you. He fucking needed you. He had to taste you, he had to make you scream, show you what you have been missing, what he has been missing.
He moved, lifting you two from the wall and slamming you back to the other side, just like you were minutes before. He begrudgingly pulled away from the kiss, but instantly clashed his lips on your neck, making a moan get stuck in your throat as you felt his teeth nipping at your skin. You felt his hand desperately reaching down towards the hem of your dress, grabbing onto it and yanking it upwards and over your ass, leaving you on your thong out in the open.
Your eyes were wide at this intensity of his, but you didn’t dislike it. No, on the contrary, you were loving it. You wanted more. You wanted to feel him more. Wanted to know what else he can give you as you felt him suck on your neck, drunk on your perfume, drunk off of you.
The hand that lifted your dress went towards your ass, cupping it with his large hand, and you felt his digits digging into your skin. He moaned into your neck and then his warmth was gone as he dropped to his knees right in front of you. Your eyes snapped down towards him, your belly contracting in need, your stomach just doing overwhelming flips.
You felt a tad self-conscious, but it was quickly wiped away when he leaned forward to press a kiss to your right thigh, his hands running from the back of it towards your calf. He kissed your knee before lifting it up so you hooked it over his left shoulder. The position familiar to you, but you couldn’t bother remembering it. Not when he was looking at your clothed center as if it were his last meal.
He bit your inner thigh gently as your scent worsened his state of arousal. His dick twitched in his pants as he raised his hands, his left one going over your thigh, and grabbed the elastic of your thong, the small strap that was on the left side of your hip. His eyes locked with yours and you knew he was asking one last time for permission, for approval.
You could back out. You could tell him to better not do anything… but where would that lead you? To feel disappointed again? To yearn for him? To want him more than before? No… You don’t want that again. You need to try him. You need to experience him, or else this crush might never go away.
So you nod as your body flushes all over, and then, a snap.
You gasp as the thong uncovers you right in front of his face, still hooked on your right leg. He was grinning as he leaned forward, kissing right at the top of your clit, on your belly. Your hands were pressed against the wall behind you, looking down at him with pleading eyes. He gave you one last look and then he dove in.
His left hand went to your ass while the other gripped your hip. His lips gave a teasing kiss to your clit, making you shiver on top of him which only urged him on. His tongue darted out next, licking a strip through your cunt, savoring your juices and he swears you were the most delicious one.
He knew you were. It must be the pent-up anger and sexual frustration he had with you that probably makes you delectable right now. He just needed the taste, that’s all. But fuck if you weren’t delicious.
And then your eyes widened when he started licking, no, devouring you. And you raised your hand to your mouth, throwing your head back as you muffled your moans into your knuckles. You were being consumed in a way you never experienced before. You felt his tongue all over, his lips enclosed on your folds so he could run it back and forth. The noises were filthy, but he was determined to break you with his mouth.
He noticed how you were holding back your moans, making a growl vibrate in his throat, his mouth unlatching from your pussy so he could bite, a little hard, on your right inner thigh. You yelped at the feeling, your hand moving away from your mouth as you glared down at him with glossy eyes.
“Moan. Let me fucking hear you, friend.” He mocked you and your mouth fell open, stunned, ready to go at him with words, only for those to fall dead in your throat. His tongue was back on you. The tip of it flicked your clit before it went back down to your folds, and then, you felt it enter you.
You finally let a moan out of your lips, your left hand coming to grip the back of his head to hold onto something, anything at all. And the sound of your moan made him groan in need against you, wanting more, wanting to make you fall apart even further. He wanted his name on your lips, he needed you to scream for him.
He felt your warmth all over his tongue as you gripped his hair, sending jolts of electricity down his body, reaching the tip of his cock. He’s sure he is already leaking precum, knowing he is riled up to no measures. Your mouth was still open as moans left it, soft yet sharp breaths as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, leaning against the wall behind you.
You felt him licking, sucking, kissing, flicking, you just felt him all over you, leaving no place untouched. His digits dug into your skin, your legs trembling at each strike of pleasure he gave you. This was new. Completely. You felt good, way too fucking good. After these months of bland hookups, Eddie eating you out, and just doing that, made all of those burn in shame.
“Fuck…” Was a small little word that fell from your mouth and it urged him to continue, to break you further. His fire for you made him grow impatient with the need to taste your climax, making his muscles tense, clench and unclench, just as your pussy was doing on his tongue.
He pulled away reluctantly with a pop and a slurp in his mouth, moaning softly at your taste. He was eating you but it was not enough, he needed to go deeper, harsher. He needed to brand himself into your memory, claim a small part of your brain that you won’t be able to erase.
“Trust me.” You were panting as you looked down, about to tell him to shut up and keep going, only for a squeal of surprise to leave your mouth. His right hand was urging you to lift your other leg up, to put it over his other shoulder. Your hands pressed against the wall behind you as you grew unsure about the new position.
“Eddie, you won’t be able to–” His eyes connected with yours, a glare in them, something that told you to not defy him at this moment. You felt the need to comply with his request so you braced yourself on the wall and your eyes widened when his left hand went to hold your waist, pinning you to the wall, while his other hand hooked on the back of your left knee and hoisted it up over his right shoulder.
Then his hand joined his other around your waist, holding you up with his strength and you hooked your ankles together behind him, biting your bottom lip, afraid of falling to the floor, your fingernails digging into the wall behind you. You opened your mouth to tell him that you weren’t sure again, only for it to be silenced by him going in once more.
He ripped a moan out of your throat as his tongue licked from your entrance to your clit, filthy sounds of his saliva and your juices mixing together, slurping, squelch, everything sounding absolutely dirty and erotic that your senses were overloading.
He was pussy drunk, his pupils dilated as he ravished you, as he tore you apart with each lick. You couldn’t even care that he was holding you up all by himself, you were looking at the ceiling, your body already flushed, feeling as if you were burning up with a fever. You couldn’t believe you heard moans coming from him doing this to you.
He held your waist, not even feeling your weight, only caring for your taste, only caring for the taste of your impending climax, wanting you to yell his name which you have yet to do. His nose hit your clit each time his tongue dove into you, the tip of it flicking against your walls which made you mewl, your back trying to arch only for his grip to keep you stuck to the wall behind you.
Your climax started to build up, your belly burning and contracting in itself as you panted on top of him. Your senses were overloading, your rational mind was all over the place. For one, you knew you shouldn’t do this, but on the other hand, you couldn’t stop it, not even if you wanted to. You couldn’t find it in you to care anymore, at least not for now.
“Eddie, Eddie–” His name came out of your lips as you felt the coil turning and turning in your belly, everytime he flicked your clit with his tongue. At the sound of his name, he opened his eyes and he realized he won’t be able to see your face when you cum, and he won’t have that. He preferred to see you than taste you, after all, he could lick his fingers afterwards.
He pulled away from your pussy, chin glistening, a string of saliva in between his lips and your clit. You whined as you looked down at him with a pained frown. What the hell? Why? Why did he stop? He made you take your right leg off him, and the moment your heel pressed onto the ground again you felt like you were gonna tumble to the side, but he kept you up thanks to your left leg still on his shoulder.
He tapped on your leg for you to move it off him and you groaned in disdain, wanting to curse at him for stopping, for edging you the way he just did. Was he probably regretting it? Did he come to his senses maybe? You felt your heart beat rapidly as you saw him getting up from the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, once you set your other foot down.
He towers over you once more, his eyes clashing against your cloudy ones as you feel your legs about to give in on you. His pupils were dilated, the brown of his irises was gone. You gulped as you opened your mouth to say something only for his lips to clash into yours once more.
You tasted yourself in his mouth, moaning into the kiss as his lips moved on yours. Your hands were about to move from the wall but you stopped your movements when you felt his hand rub your belly as it went further down. You jolted, making you pull away from the kiss with a gasp when his middle finger touched your sensitive clit, making the coil return to your belly once again as if it had never left.
Your gaze went downwards, looking at how he coated his fingers in your juices, a trembling sigh escaping you. You felt his other hand pressing underneath your chin with his index finger, and he made you look back up at him at the same time he teased your entrance with his fingers.
“I’m gonna watch you cum around my fingers Peach.” Your mouth fell open at his words, only for then to feel your eyes roll to the back of your head when his middle finger entered you. He groaned at the feeling of your warmth, the sensation going straight to his dick, which was now hurting from how hard it was, and the pants were too constricting on him. You were so warm, so fucking perfect, and he knew he had to prep you for what he was going to do in a matter of minutes.
You felt his fingers grab onto the sides of your chin, making you pucker your lips slightly as you looked at him again. His gaze was intense as his finger started pumping in and out of you. Your moans were breathy, hot and he could feel them in his face. He saw how a sheen of sweat was over your forehead now, and he could feel your body temperature burning as his finger picked up a pace, your legs spreading a little wider for easier access, making him chuckle.
“Eager.” He mumbled and you whined at how he was making fun of you, only for a moan to escape you, this time throaty, his ring finger joining his middle one. Your knees started shaking as you felt him go in and out of you. You could feel the thickness of his fingers, rubbing perfectly against your walls as your fingers dug into the wall behind you, trying to keep you up.
“Fuck–” You cursed as you felt him curl his fingers inside of you and your belly started screaming and turning into itself as he hit that spongy part inside of you. He smiled as he looked down at your wrecked face, your eyes being filled with tears of pleasure as your mouth never closed.
He immediately started a rapid and brutal pace, the squelching of your pussy with his fingers filling both of your ears. You were drenched for him and he was in love with the feeling of it. He pressed his palm over your clit, keeping the pace of his fingers and your eyes widened when you started thrashing underneath him, the pleasure becoming too much as you felt your climax threatening to destroy you.
“Cum.” And that order was low, and you felt it vibrate in the deepest part of your brain. He felt your body start shaking and he ripped his hand off your chin in order to press his entire forearm over your torso, keeping you stuck to the wall.
Your vision went white, your pussy clenching around him like a vice, throbbing, as your climax hit you like a fucking truck. It was earth-shattering. Your hips tried to move away from him, but also against him. Your moans were all over the place, not even knowing if you were saying anything or just crying out.
You could see his delighted smile through the fog, as he saw you squirm, helping you ride your orgasm. His pace slowed down as you slowly got some clarity back into your body. You twitched as you breathed heavily, whimpering at the sudden overstimulation. His arm left your torso, grabbing onto your waist to help you stand steady on your heels again.
He pulled his fingers out of you, and you felt so empty all of a sudden and you let a sigh escape you as your body felt like plummeting to the floor. It was one of the biggest orgasms you had in your life, and you didn’t know he could do this. You couldn’t believe he had this power all along. Your eyes followed his fingers as he smirked at you, darting his tongue out.
“What–” He closed his eyes as he licked his fingers and then put them in his mouth, sucking on your juices, on the awaited climax and he didn’t contain the pleased moan. He felt his dick twitch at your taste. Sweet. Very sweet. Like a peach.
That action made your entire self burn up once again, the shakiness slowly stopping as he opened his eyes again to look at you. Your chest was going up and down as you caught your breath, and he tilted his head in question at you.
“What’s wrong, friend?” Your eyes widened as anger rose from deep within once again. It gave you the needed strength to pull yourself from the wall, feeling your juices running down your inner thighs, and your hand found the back of his head so you could pull him down and kiss him again, ferociously, bruisingly.
He groaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you as he took a step back, and guided you into his room, his foot hooking onto the edge of the door and pushing it closed with a slam. You weren’t even phased at the sound of it, you just kept kissing him as one of his hands was splayed on your back while the other was kneading your ass, fondling it. In that small walk, your broken thong fell down your leg, and naturally stepped out of it.
Your hands found purchase on his biceps, running towards his chest and then downwards to the hem of his shirt. You tugged on it, and he broke away from your lips, desperately, his breath hitting you as he ripped his shirt off his body, throwing it somewhere in the room and then slamming his mouth against yours again.
You wanted to look at him, see the body you saw on the instagram stories, the one you took a screenshot of and resides in the gallery of your phone. But you cannot stop kissing him, it’s too addictive and he feels the same with you. He was eating you whole as if he were trying to suck the soul out of your body and maybe he was.
His hands moved towards your shoulders and he quickly put them underneath your straps, pushing them down your arms. While he did that, your hands went towards his belt, unbuckling him, but he stopped you, pulling away from the kiss. His eyes opened the same time yours did and your pupils clashed together, but before you could think, his hands pressed on your chest and you were pushed backwards, making you yelp.
Your back bounced against his soft mattress, and your breathing was quick, elaborated, and you raised yourself up on your elbows to see him intensely looking at you, ripping his belt away from him. Your mouth filled with saliva as you saw his body, the tattoos that scattered all over his chest, tummy, arms, and part of his neck and you just wanted to reach out, run your hands all over, and lick and trace each patch of ink.
He quickly unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them before pulling them down his legs with a harsh push, and when he straightened up, your eyes almost bulged out of your skull. Your eyes were trained on the bulge that was strained in his boxers as he looked down at you.
He was huge. The biggest you’ve ever seen.
He knew his size, and he knew how this would go, just like all the times that he had sex, he knew it was going to be too much. But that wasn’t going to stop him from having you, not at all. He stepped out from his pants and boots, and he reached down towards you, his hands dipping into the top of your dress and tugging it down from your body. You helped by raising your upper body off the mattress, and then your hips as he undressed you from your last garment of clothing.
He threw the dress to the side and unclasped your heels, and you shook them off, your eyes never leaving his bulge, your cunt throbbing at the thought of having it. He dove in again, crawling on top of you, guiding the two of you to the middle of the bed, his right knee hooking underneath the back of your left one, and he pushed it upwards, spreading your legs for him to slot himself in between them. And then, you felt him.
You threw your head back at the feeling of him against your pussy. You knew your juices were drenching the fabric of his boxers but you didn’t care and he didn’t either. The only thing the two of you could think of right now was to fuck like rabbits, fuck eachother into oblivion, fuck eachother until one of you simply passes out.
His lips found your neck as he rubbed himself against your wet cunt, finally moaning into your skin as he got some friction on his cock. He heard your moans, your arms wrapping around him and then the feel of your nails on his back, scratching as his thrusts were a little harsher. His patience was running thin as he felt a sweat all over his body. His chest felt as if it were on fire and he knew that if he didn’t have you now he was going to go crazy.
Your hips moved against his and nothing felt more delicious than this. You barely recognized yourself. This felt too good and you weren’t ashamed of your actions, of showing just how turned on you were.
But you wanted a taste first.
Your hands moved to his shoulders and you used your strength to push him away and rolled the two of you over so you would be on top of him. He bounced underneath you, a little startled at the change of position. You were looking down at him and he finally saw how much lust your eyes were holding for him, and it probably matched his.
You dipped down, and your lips kissed his neck, making him close his eyes at the feeling while your hips were rubbing against his bulge. You moaned into his skin, feeling your clit being hit just right. You sighed as you started moving downwards, your lips kissing his torso, his eyes opening to look down at you.
No one did this for him. He didn’t mind that they never did but now he realizes what it feels to be truly desired. It felt like you were worshiping him and fuck if he didn’t love it. Your kisses found way towards his stomach, his small formed abs as you kept crawling backwards and then a bit of panic set in him as you held the hem of his boxers.
You bit your bottom lip as you pulled away, hooked your fingers and pulled those boxers down, and the moment his dick sprung out, your eyes widened at the sight. It was longer than average, thick, and you never saw anything like it before. You were awestruck, but Eddie thought otherwise.
He thought you were hesitating, wondering if you would feel pain. It was always the same for him. They would retreat slightly at the sight of it and he would promise to not go all the way, and he always kept that promise. He opened his mouth to say something, to tell you that you didn’t need to do anything, but then he felt something he hadn’t felt in a while.
You leaned down, your tongue lolling out of your mouth, and licked over his tip. He held in a whimper as he raised himself up on his elbows to watch you. You were on all fours, ass in the air as your upper body leaned down so that you could lick him, with the flat of your tongue, from base to tip.
He shuddered at the feeling, and he could see how hypnotized you were with him, and that made his dick twitch. A smile broke on your face as your hand wrapped around it, letting the other one rest on his thigh. He then saw you let a drop of saliva fall out of your mouth and onto the tip. Your hand went upwards and you lubricated it with your saliva and then you moved it back downwards, starting to slowly stroke it.
He groaned into his throat, throwing his head back at the feeling, only for his eyes to snap open again and look back down to you. Your mouth closed on his tip, sucking on it and his mouth dropped open at how you looked. He felt his stomach turn as you took more of him into your mouth and you moaned, sending vibrations all around him.
Oh, you were fucking perfect. He hasn’t been inside you yet and you are already the best he’s ever had. Your eyes were closed as you started to slowly bob your head up and down, helping yourself with your hand to reach the rest of his cock you know you won’t be able to fit into your mouth.
You were getting wetter as you sucked him off, his moans filling your ears as you slurped on his cock. You’ve never felt this hungry for a dick before, like, you’ve never had this intense need of tasting it before. But Eddie… Eddie you needed a taste of. It’s not even about reciprocation of him eating you out, it’s pure desire. Your own desire.
You needed to know how far you could take him, so you unwrapped your hand from around him and relaxed your throat. You breathed through your nose as you bobbed downwards, taking more than before and his eyes widened as you kept going. You almost made it, a little more than half in your throat, but then you gagged, knowing it was your limit.
He whimpered, and it was the most delightful sound you heard from him yet. Eddie Munson whimpering. You should record it. You moved upwards and your hand wrapped around him again, as you continued bobbing your head. You moaned when you started tasting the precum in your tongue, and it was tangy, a little bitter, but it was still good.
Eddie was breathing heavily as he saw you pulling away with a ‘pop’ only for your tongue to dart out and dip the tip of it on his slit.
“Oh, fuck me.” He threw his head back as he closed his eyes, feeling them rolling to the back of his head. You smiled with satisfaction as you kissed his tip before getting it into your mouth again and swirling your tongue all around it. His eyes snapped wide open and his hips jerked when you rubbed his frenulum with the tip of your forsaken tongue.
You took him back in and you quickened the pace of your head bobbing and your hand. You heard yourself slurping, your saliva all over his dick, and your hand helping the movements. His belly tightened and you saw it as his hips jerked slightly when you, once more, teased his frenulum. You pulled away with a pop and smirked as you looked at him with half-lidded eyes, saliva running down your chin.
“Someone is liking this a bit too much, isn’t he?” It was time to be cocky with him and his eyebrows met in the middle, as if he were angry, and he glared at you as you looked back down on his dick. Your pussy throbbed as your smile faded from your face.
You wanted it. You needed it. Maybe it is what you have been needing all this time. Maybe this– Maybe you could finally feel full. You bit your bottom lips as you desperately tugged on the hem of his boxers to pull them all the way down. He caught on and raised his hips to help you remove them. You wiped your mouth afterwards with the back of your hand.
You raised your head to look at him, to ask him where the condoms were but he was already stretching to the side, opening his drawer. You bit your lip as he took out a black foil condom, getting himself back in the middle of the bed. He sat up and looked at you as he ripped the foil open with his teeth. Your hands instantly flew to grab the condom from his hand before he could react.
He closed his eyes as his jaw clenched when he felt you rolling the condom down on his cock. He needed to fuck you like… yesterday. He opened his eyes again, ready to throw you to the side so he could get on top, but his eyes expressed confusion when you threw one leg on the other side of his hip and you pressed your hands on his chest, urging him to lay back down.
You could literally have hearts in your eyes from how cock drunk you felt, without the cock being inside you yet. You rubbed yourself along the shaft, letting your juices lubricate it. Eddie winced, loving it, but he had to warn you, he had to tell you he had to change positions.
“Sweetheart– Peach– Listen–” You glared down at him as he talked, and his eyebrows were knitted into a worried frown as your hand got in between them and you raised your hips upwards.
“You regretting this Munson?” Your voice was low, challenging, and fuck no. He would never regret any of this. Ever. His hands gripped your hips, trying to warn you not to move.
“No, fuck no Peach, but I have to warn you–” He choked in surprise when he felt his tip go inside of you, and fuck you were so warm, but he had to stay focused. He could hurt you if he didn’t. “Sweetheart– It won’t–”
“Shut up Eddie, for fuck sake–” Your hands gripped on his chest as you sank lower and lower and his eyes were wide as he saw himself disappear in you, his fingers digging into your skin as he felt you engulf him more and more, and you were reaching the area that he knows would be painful if you tried any further. He gasped out, looking back up at you.
“Shit– Shit–!” He was trying, but you were deaf to his words. He felt himself burning inside out but you, your eyes were going wide as you threw your head back. There was more and more, and it never stopped. The stretch was insane, and Eddie– Eddie wasn’t shutting up.
“Munson–!” It was your last warning before you slammed down on him.
His eyes went wide as he choked a gasp, his head thrown back onto the pillow as he felt you engulf him completely. As he felt someone taking him all for the first time. Covering that area that no other girl could ever take. He was choking on his breaths, the sensations sending vibrations and shocks all over his body. He had to check if you were okay, first and foremost. He looked back at you, his eyes still wide as he breathed heavily.
Your head was thrown back with blown eyes, and you were trying to regain your breath that was knocked out of you. You felt… you felt– Full. You were filled. Fuck, it feels good. He feels so fucking good. A shiver ran down your spine as your senses started to kick in from the initial shock. With your head thrown back, you raised your hips back up and Eddie’s gaze turned down to where the two of you were connected and then–
You slammed back down again, knocking a loud groan from him and a delighted moan from you.
Oh, how good it felt. He was so deep, so deep inside you and you needed to feel it even more. More. More. More. You were primal, and it was a new feeling that you didn’t want to stop. You were oblivious to how Eddie was feeling, not knowing that he had never bottomed out before.
So, you weren’t aware of how he was staring at you. How his eyes were wide and his chest was bright red. How he trembled every other second. And now, he saw you raise yourself up again, your hands on his chest to use as leverage before you slammed back down once more, knocking another moan out of his lips.
You were adjusting, and you rutted your hips on him, back and forth, and you moaned loudly as you felt the tip of him just abusing your g-spot in each hip thrust. He was speechless as he looked at you. You weren’t in pain, you were enjoying this. You were moaning, and he could hear the squelching your juices made against his pelvis.
Against his fucking pelvis.
You smiled with delight, and you closed your eyes as you finally let your head fall forward, and Eddie saw your contorted face of pleasure. His mouth was open in awe as he stared at you, and then you raised your hips back up and that’s when you started a slow pace. A slow, but deep pace.
His hands were gripping tightly onto your hips, and he felt his body becoming hotter and hotter, his mind becoming hazier as if something was trying to take control of him. Your pace started catching more rhythm and you started bouncing on him, choking moans out of your lips as you felt him hit the deepest parts within you.
“Fuck– Fuck– It feels so fucking good, what the fuck–” You were spouting nonsense, yet it was still the truth. You were confused, not recognizing yourself, your voice, your desperate movements, and how your mind was being rendered stupid. You never felt this, with anybody, not even with Billy.
He twitched inside of you, everytime your walls rubbed over the base of his cock made him choke. How the fuck were you able to do this? Maybe there were in fact people made for him, and you are just one of them. His pupils dilated, his breathing heavy as he started groaning through his teeth at each bounce you did on him.
Your nails dug into his chest as you kept going and then your eyes opened to look down at him. His hips raised up from the bed and his grip on your hips tightened. You could see his jaw clenching as a vein popped out from his neck. His nose flared and you thought you were seeing an animal for a second there and then–
Your mouth fell open as he started thrusting in and out of you, wildly, keeping you in place so you wouldn’t bounce down on him. He was abusing your insides and it was so good, so fucking good. You heard the slapping of skin, the squelches, and your choked moans as you looked down at him, but you weren’t really seeing. You couldn’t focus your sight, feeling a pleasure you’ve never felt before.
He was taking and taking, letting himself go wild for the first time in his life. It was an ecstasy he never felt before, and he just felt– so feral. The moment he noticed your cockdrunk face, he knew that you weren’t in pain. He knows you are loving it just as much as he is.
He kept going, abusing your cervix in the most amazing of ways, your g-spot being rubbed over and over. Your belly burned, your climax slowly building up, and his eyes were trained on your body as it shook from how fast he was pumping himself in and out of you. He saw you leaning down as your back arched upwards, your mouth open in a constant ‘o’ as your eyebrows met in the middle.
One of his hands shot from your hip to the back of your neck, his thrusts never stopping, not even feeling the slightest bit tired. His touch made your eyes clash with his. You couldn’t even formulate a word, just choked moans as he kept going. He growled as he pulled you down, making your face dive in the crook of his neck while his other hand moved and his whole arm wrapped around your waist.
Your eyes widened when you felt your spongy part being stimulated more than before. The bending forward, helping his cock reach it. Your nails dug into his chest as you moaned into his neck, a babbling mess, drool coming out of your mouth.
“Fuck– Baby–” He moaned your name as he gave one sharp thrust, sitting deep inside you, making you gasp, your breath knocked out as the two of you breathed heavily. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you felt like your whole body was up in flames. You were growing tired, but you didn’t want this to end. No. Your hips instinctively moved on him, back and forth and he cursed under his breath.
Your world turned, and now you were looking at the ceiling, your chest going up and down as you tried to catch your breath. He was on top of you, his dick still deep inside of you, both his elbows on each side of your head. You looked beautiful like this, wrecked by him, drooling, tears slipping out of your eyes. Good.
He leaned down to take your lips with his, and his hips started to slowly move against you, and your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you parted your legs even farther for him. You moaned into the kiss as he rolled his hips, meditated thrusts that were smoothly deep, and all too delicious.
His tongue invaded your mouth when a moan left you, and you felt his base rubbing against your clit at each push forward. You could hardly focus on the kiss. Your mind a hazy mess, the only thought process being, ‘I need more’.
You were intoxicating, poisonous, and yet addictive. He won’t be able to get enough of you, he knows it. This won’t be enough and he hopes it won’t be either. He will make sure it won’t. He’ll make sure you will still want this afterwards. He’ll make sure you remember how he felt, what he made you feel, how he made you scream.
He pulled away from the kiss and raised his upper body up, looking down at your disheveled form. One of his hands went behind your left knee, holding your leg as he started moving a little faster than before. Your hands gripped the sheet beneath you as you stared at his form, at his eyes looking down at you.
It felt like an out-of-body experience, for the both of you, forgetting who the two of you were, or what relationship you had before this. He does remember the amount of times, the mouth that is now crying out his name at each thrust said mean things to him, and it prompted him to slam his hips harder into you.
“Eddie–!” You choked out, your belly turning, coiling all around as your climax kept growing and growing. His harsh thrusts making you jerk upwards, the bed slightly swaying back and forth at the movement. He smirked through his breaths, the sweat on his forehead and chest glistening with the soft and bright moonlight coming through his windows.
He looked down at where the two of you were connecting over and over again and he still could not believe he was bottoming out, that all of him was being engulfed by someone, by you of all people. He groaned as he felt your walls fluttering around him and you started choking on your own moans.
He looked back at you, leaning downwards again, his arms cradling your head, his breath on your ear as his thrusts turned short and fast. Your eyes widened, your hands finding his back, nails dipping into his flesh. It was a perfect rhythm, rubbing you in all the right places, the feeling of his pubic hair creating friction on your clit.
“You take me so well Peach… fuck– you take me so fucking well–” He moaned out with nothing but the whole truth but it was enough for your walls to start clenching as your back started to arch towards him, your belly burning, turning into itself.
“Oh– Fuck, I’m– I’m gonna–” And he let go of you so he could kneel back up, his thrusts still short and fast but he pressed his right hand on your knee, while his left one pressed on your belly. He darted his thumb out and pressed it on your clit as he pressed down with his palm as well, pushing your belly down.
You gasped, arch arching as your hands were now gripping the pillow under your head, moans, grunts, groans, whines, whimpers and his name. His name was on your lips like a prayer, like a worship. His thumb rubbed circles as he watched intensely, his curiosity and his need for you to cum around him, for him to feel it for the first time making him go insane.
You took a sharp intake of breath as you felt yourself break, coming undone, vision seeing stars as you clenched all around him, with a death grjp. Your climax hit you once again, whimpering and squealing at the intensity of it, and Eddie… Eddie was grunting through his teeth as he felt you clench around him, around his cock, from tip to base. It felt too good. Way too fucking great.
He didn’t want you to stop climaxing, he couldn’t. He needed it again, he needed you to keep clenching on him like this. He whimpered at the feel of you, looking down at his dick going in and out of you still, with a bit of restraint that felt incredible. Your body fell on the bed again, your walls unclenching after a few seconds and his hands moved towards your hips, his thrusts unrelenting, not letting you rest up.
“You– You’re gonna give me one more Peach.” Your eyes were watery at the overstimulation, but fuck if you didn’t want it to stop. His chest was ignited with newfound fire, his balls starting to tighten, but no, he wasn’t going to cum until he felt you around his dick again, until you cum around him once more. This new experience was just too great for him.
“I– I don’t know– Fuck– I don’t know if I can–” You mumbled, bouncing at his mercy as he kept railing into you. He only chuckled through his moans, and you could hear a low growl coming from deep within his chest. He guided your hips to meet his thrusts and your hands flew to the headboard, trying to ground yourself into a hard surface as it started slamming against the wall thanks to how hard he was thrusting into you.
“Yeah, you fucking can. I won’t stop until you give me another.” He was demanding, ordering you to do something you didn’t know if you even could, but he did indeed not let you rest. He didn’t let you ride the orgasm out. He didn’t let you take a breather. Your G-Spot never stopped throbbing, and you could feel the coil in your belly start to alarmingly turn again. When your eyes widened as he felt your pussy flutter, he only smirked, “There she is.”
His pace quickened, sweaty skin snapping against yours, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP. It was echoing all over the room, just as loud as your moans, your cries, feeling your whole body burning up, tensing, your muscles trembling now and then as you were on the edge of falling off the cliff.
“Shit, shit, shit, Eddie– Oh god– Oh fuck–” You cried out, almost sobbing as tears of pleasure rolled down the side of your face, throwing your head back onto the pillow as your walls started clenching and unclenching around him and he moaned over you, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist now.
“Fuck yes baby, cum around my cock. I need to feel it again– Please, please–” And you cried his name out as you arched your back off the bed, and he groaned in pleasure, your name tumbling out his lips as you tightened all around his cock. This orgasm was the biggest of them all, of the last two you had. You’ve never had a multiple orgasm before, and it felt so good.
He was breathing heavily, his chest red all over, and he clenched his teeth as if baring them. His vision went white and he clenched his eyes, tightly, relishing in the feeling of you around him. All it took was two more pumps into your tight heat and then– He came.
He grunted loudly as he shook all over, a whimper mixing in the middle of his breaths as he felt his seed shooting into the condom, spurt after spurt. This was the hardest he’d ever cum in his entire life. You whined as you felt him seething inside of you as he came, and amid your post orgasm, you could see his contorted face. A face that showed pleasure.
The last shot came, and he sighed out with trembling breaths, his heavy panting mixing with yours. He slowly opened his eyes to find you lying before him, eyes now closed as you tried to stop your legs from shaking. The overstimulation was now painful, and all you wanted was to rest. You were drained and so was he.
He groaned and you whined when he slowly pulled out from you, his eyes slightly widening at the amount of cum that was at the tip of the condom. He saw how spent you were, and he leaned down, kissing your cheek softly, his voice low, almost a whisper.
“Rest Peach, I’ll clean you up.” You mumbled something, your brain slowly shutting off, your energy gone. Your conscious mind was already squashed, can’t even think of what had just happened.
Eddie crawled backwards, his legs trembling as he got on his own two feet, huffing as he felt them wanting to give up on him. He shook his head to center himself again, tying the condom and walking out of his room to go into his bathroom. He threw the condom in the trash and turned to look at himself in the mirror.
He was still breathing heavily, less than before, but still pretty heavy. He saw his face, flushed and then his neck and chest were red. His pupils were still dilated and he took a deep breath in to calm himself down, making numbers in his head to figure out if he missed any of his pills. But he didn’t.
His body reacted to you in ways it never did with other girls. He’ll have to ask if it could be possible, but in the meantime… His hands went to the sink, washing them, growling when he remembered– He shook his thoughts away. He can’t think like that. He sounds possessive and he is not like that. He can’t be like that.
He brushed his teeth and washed his face. He grabbed a small towel and drenched it in warm water. He cracked his neck as he walked out of the bathroom again and entered his room, to see you in the same position, but he now knows you had fallen asleep. He walked towards you and he pressed the towel on your inner thigh, making you flinch but you didn’t wake. He cleaned you up, being extra careful when he passed over your puffed up pussy.
He smirked in victory at the sight of it, at how much of your own climax he gathered in the towel. He flipped it inside out and with it he cleaned the drool and tears off your face. You started mumbling something as he held your face in his hand, looking down at you.
“Eddie…” You breathed out. He felt a tug somewhere in his body, but he didn’t know where. He clenched his jaw as he pulled away, putting the towel on the night table. He knew the two of you would talk the next day. He was excited about it, wondering what is going to happen between the two of you after this.
He wrapped you in his blankets and then got into bed next to you. Your body instantly felt his, and you moved to cuddle his arm. He chuckled at you, his gaze looking up at the ceiling as he realized his energy was too spent, too drained. His eyelids started to drop, the images of you flashing behind them.
He had so many questions, but maybe there were just no answers to them. It was simply that way. But out of all the girls he’s been with… you, being the only one… He had to stop thinking about it, maybe he was just trying to look for something that had no explanation. He gulped as a smile broke on his face. One thing is for certain.
It will happen again… and again… and again.
end of chapter 17
a/n: after 17 chapters, now that's slowburning at its finest.
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𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃
(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)
*NOT Mature, SFW — incorrectly flagged
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.
Summary: . . . After almost losing you in a scare related to your preterm labor, Eddie is reluctant to meet his newborn son, whose life still remains on the line, until some convincing from you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.
a/n: congrats on making it to part two! we still have quite a bit of angst to get through but we're almost through the storm! this part (even though i wrote Wayne's World as a whole) was my favorite to write, and i'm sure you'll be able to guess why. word count is 6k. good luck and happy reading! and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈
Hours passed by, Penny had fallen asleep in his lap again and so had most of his friends with the exceptions of Jonathan who looked like he could really use the sleep, Eden and Wayne. Steve would snap awake every once and a while, careful not to jostle his sleeping girlfriend. Nancy was asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder while Argyle used Eden’s lap for a pillow. Barb and Robin were hanging off chairs in the most uncomfortable looking positions, Robin’s snores almost painful sounding. The ‘kids’ (teenagers) had been picked up by their parents, only agreeing to go home if they could come back to wait with him first thing in the morning.
Eddie didn’t rest for a single second, mind torturing him with horrible, horrible thoughts. One played in his mind on loop; he was holding Penny as he walked out of the hospital. They were on their own.
It held him captive, he hadn’t even noticed your doctor approaching him until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Mr. Munson?”
Wayne and Eddie traded quick glances and he handed Penny over, trying not to disturb her too much in his rush but she just curled up to Wayne.
Eddie stood up, already feeling lightheaded. That voice in his head that had been torturing him whispered something cruel to him, enough to make him want to cease existing: maybe you, somewhere in this hospital, already gone and he didn’t know it. Was she about to confirm his worst fears?
“I apologize for the fright we gave you. Your wife started hemorrhaging and she lost a lot of blood.”
Yeah. Eddie’s world was ending. It was over.
“But we were able to stop the bleeding and get her a transfusion. She’s stable and she’s going to be just fine.”
The relief was almost crippling, the heaviest weight he’d ever felt on him was lifted. Eddie wanted to cry, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to compose himself before he broke down in front of another doctor.
“We have her in a room, probably hold her for a couple of nights, depending on her recovery. Would you like to go see her?”
“Yeah, yes, please.” He nodded rapidly, wiping furiously at his eyes.
Dr. Eisenberg nodded and began walking down the hall, “If you’ll follow me.”
Eddie turned, ready to ask Wayne to look after Penny when Wayne cut him off, “Go. I'll let ‘em all know she’s okay and send ‘em home. They probably won’t be able to see her tonight or in the mornin’, but I’ll stick around. Let me know when I can come on up.”
Eddie wanted to hug him, but he really needed to see you.
“Thank you, Wayne. For everything.” Then he was scrambling after Dr. Eisenberg, who had stopped to wait for him.
The walk to your hospital room had Eddie ready to tear his hair out, he’d wanted to just ask your doctor for your room number so he could sprint the rest of the way because her pace was much too slow. He was desperate to get to you, to make sure you were really still alive.
“Here we are,” she stated, pushing your room door open. “Hello, again, Mrs. Munson. I brought someone who’s been waiting for you.”
Eddie’s breath hitched as Dr. Eisenberg stepped to the side and he finally saw you, eyelids heavy from whatever sedation you were still trying to pull yourself from, and a smile on your face that only widened when you locked eyes.
“Hi, baby,” you slurred, sleepy little smile not going anywhere. And neither were you.
The rush of emotions he was experiencing was too much, he burst into tears where he stood as Dr. Eisenberg closed the door behind her on her way out.
“Eddie…” you mumbled out, reaching the hand lacking an IV out to him.
Of course you were trying to comfort him, you were the one confined to a hospital bed, having just barely survived a traumatic birth and you were still trying to comfort him because you were perfect.
He slowly approached your bed, hot tears—he was surprised his body could even still produce more tears given how much he’d cried in the last few hours alone—streaming down his cheek. Eddie really did collapse when he reached you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
You wrapped your arms around him, holding him to your chest as best as you could, though you had no idea why he was crying, brain too hazy.
Eddie didn’t sob, just silently shook as he wet your neck, inhaled your scent, felt your warm skin and pulse beating beneath his lips. He hadn’t lost you, you were still here.
Ideally, he’d be holding you and squeezing you hard enough to ensure you’d never leave his arms again, but even in his emotional hysteria, he was mindful of your condition.
Eddie pulled away, large hands framing your face as he pressed desperate kisses all over your face, making sure every inch was caressed with his love before he focused on your lips, mouth meshing messily against yours.
You could taste the salt of his tears, feel a couple of stray ones catching where your lips met. While he may have been feeling a mixture of emotions, all you could feel right then was content and still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia.
When Eddie felt he’d conveyed his love for you sufficiently, he pulled away, a wet and hoarse chuckle escaping him when he realized you could barely keep your eyes open.
“You sleepy, baby?”
“Mhmm.”
“Get some rest, sweetheart,” Eddie’s thumb stroked over your bottom lip before resting over the center of it, “just, please wake up.”
“Okay,” you mumbled, eyes already shut. Still, you managed to press a kiss to his thumb before you slipped into a blissful slumber.
While you slept, Eddie had one of the nurses phone up the waiting room and sent Wayne. The poor man looked exhausted, but the relief on his face was evident when he saw you sleeping peacefully.
He looked like he wanted to cry, too. Instead, he just cleared his throat, blinked to keep the tears away and spoke low so as to not disturb you or the sleeping toddler in his arms.
“Everythin’ alright?”
“With her?” Eddie’s red rimmed gaze drifted back to you, focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing, “Yeah.”
Wayne nodded once and they both stood there in silence for a few minutes as the world began to turn again. Something still wasn’t right, felt wrong. He could tell by the tension his boy still had, arms crossed as he crouched in the seat next to your bed.
“And the baby?”
Eddie flinched as if Wayne had shot a gun off in the air rather than mention his son.
“I don’t know.”
Wayne watched him with a careful eye, Eddie looked almost like he was vibrating from the force at which his leg was shaking, even your hospital bed appeared to be affected by it, though not nearly enough to disturb you.
As much as he wanted to comfort him, for once, Wayne didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say and he had an inkling that anything that came out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard by Eddie. He was lost in the dark crevices of his own mind.
The most he could do was offer to give him some alone time, he was sure his boy wasn’t keen on others sticking around right now, even him.
“I’ll take Penny home, me and Maude’ll watch her.”
Eddie shook his head, a look of panic flashing over his face, “No, that’s alright. She can stay with me.”
Wayne was reluctant, mouth set in a frown. Penny was a good girl, usually, but he didn’t know if Eddie could really handle her along with processing everything going on around him.
“Really, we wouldn’t mind─”
“I need her.”
That shut Wayne right up, he and Eddie shuffled to exchange Penny from his arms to her dad’s without waking her. She stirred momentarily then shoved her face into Eddie’s neck, her little body falling slack once more.
Wayne gave his shoulder a good squeeze, ran his hand gently over Penny’s back before he leaned down—and in a rare show of affection—pressed a brief kiss to your forehead.
As he was walking out of the room, Eddie felt the panic crawling down his throat again. He croaked out a broken, “Wayne─”
Wayne paused in the doorway, turning to acknowledge Eddie but his nephew didn’t continue, just looked scared. For a moment, Wayne was caught off guard, sucking in a breath as his boy looked young for the first time in a couple of years.
Now, he knew you and Eddie were young. He’d been aware of it when you got together, aware of it when you told him you were pregnant with Penny but sometime after that, he stopped seeing your age, stopped seeing Eddie’s as the two of you grew up for her. Now, right then, he remembered with startling clarity that Eddie wasn’t even twenty-five. He looked so young because he was.
Eddie didn’t have to say anything else because Wayne knew exactly what he wanted him to say.
Wayne nodded slowly, mouth pressing into a firm line of determination, “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”
Eddie choked up, held Penny a little tighter and Wayne went on his way.
He found himself settling back into the seat he’d dragged near your bed, cradling Penny as she remained blissfully unaware and drooling on his scrub top.
Wayne wasn’t wrong, she’d probably be a little too much for him but she was his kid, it wasn't like he could just hand her off to people when life came at him like this and he really did need her right now. Again.
You were here and whole, but somewhere else in this hospital, a member of his little family was still slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t let the other one out of his sight, couldn’t lose her, too.
Once more, Eddie remained restless as the hours passed. He sat in mostly silence. He’d turned on the tv near your bed, the volume high enough to drown out the sounds of the hospital outside of the room but much too low to wake you. Rain trilled against the windows, much more gentle than it had been earlier. The storm had also passed, and if there was even an ounce of humor in him, he would have been amused with how this storm seemed to fester like a black cloud looming over him.
It’d been a normal day up until he’d gone to Lucas’ birthday party, but he’d been skeptical about leaving you, worried something would happen. The metaphorical little black cloud formed over him, as a result, and so did the actual black clouds, quickly calling for wind and rain at high speeds.
And when Eddie had found out you were okay, you were alive, his black cloud disappeared, though it left behind damage and a cold atmosphere. The real storm had also run its course, leaving behind weather that reflected exactly how Eddie felt.
Penny squirmed in his grasp, and he realized he’d tensed up so he quickly relaxed, shifting her into a more comfortable position in his hold.
“Why don’t you give her to me?”
Eddie’s head snapped over to you, surprised to find you awake, somewhat lucid and watching him with a small smile on your face.
“Because you just had your insides removed and put back in,” He smirked, another wave of relief washing over him. You’d woken up, you really were okay. You weren’t going to leave him.
You rolled your eyes, making a vague hand gesture to brush the subject off, clearly the surgeons hadn’t removed your sass.
“She’s tiny and there’s more than enough room on here for both of us.” You hissed as you slowly shimmied your way to the side of the bed and Eddie frowned.
“Okay, how about you don’t move so we can limit the amount of heart attacks you give me today, yeah?” You knew Eddie must have been worried so you didn’t take the lack of humor behind his words and the tension on his face personally.
A quick glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie. New day, but I’ll keep my antics to a minimum.”
Insistently, you patted the spot next to you, perfectly Penny sized and high enough to guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally move against your incision.
With a sigh, Eddie complied, gathering his daughter up. Tensing up disturbed her but full on moving her didn’t, most likely used to being carried into your home after she’d fallen asleep in her car seat or on the couch.
She didn’t stir when he laid her down, either. You both had to rearrange her limbs into a more comfortable position, one that didn’t make it look like she was possessed. Once Eddie tucked her in, he let out another sigh and cast you an apologetic look, big brown eyes wide, glassy and full of sorrow.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” It was the last thing you deserved after what you’d gone through.
The sincerity in his voice almost hurt you, it was heavy, as though it carried more weight than just a simple apology for his tone.
You held out your hand and Eddie immediately slipped his over it, locking his fingers with yours, squeezing as his breath hitched.
Your hand was so warm and soft. At one point in the last twenty-four hours, he’d thought he’d never get to feel it again, never get to hold your hand or see your pretty face. Never get to say…
“I love you,” he blurted out, the panic he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those three words to you climbed right out of his belly, trying to claw its way out of his chest. Eddie took in a shuddering breath, head shaking as a hot tear escaped its confinement, trailing down his cheek. He moved to the other side of the hospital bed, so he wouldn’t crush Penny, and took your face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, hoping he was able to convey just how much he loved you.
He needed you to know.
“Eddie,” you mumbled as he pulled away, only to hide himself in the crook of your neck again. You could feel his tears against your skin and it alarmed you. “I love you, too, baby. What’s wrong?”
“I thought I was going to lose you,” he confessed and you felt your heart seize up, “I thought I was gonna lose you twice in the same damn day. I was so fucking scared, sweetheart.”
When he’d been driving to the hospital, there had been a moment when he wondered if you’d still be breathing when he got there. It made him want to throw up so he quickly squashed it and forced it to the back of his head. It hadn’t been ideal when he’d entered the operation room, he didn’t like seeing you get cut open but it was comforting to see he’d overreacted. You were getting a c-section, you weren’t on your deathbed.
Until you had been.
And for the second time that day, he thought you were going to die, thought he’d somehow cruelly manifested this for you and himself.
“I’m alright, Eddie.” You freed your hand, grabbing his to cradle your cheek with.
“See? I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, you’re not going to.” Eddie pulls away from his hiding spot to stare down at you, the wounded puppy look still firmly in place so you add a little humor, hoping to get a smile out of him, “There’s no way I’m checking out this early, I can’t risk you moving on when you look this good.”
Eddie’s hand was so big his fingers were tucked into your hair, his palm alone took up most of your cheek. His fingertips lightly massaged the area of your scalp available to him as the hurt on his face morphed into an earnest look, somehow more vulnerable.
“There’s no moving on from you, you’re taking my soul, my heart, all of it with you when you go. You’re the love of my life, my everything. And that—fuck, it terrifies me because I’d still have Penny to take care of and I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know how to pull myself out of it, if it’d even be possible and quite frankly, I don’t ever want to fucking find out.”
Eddie was more than happy to have those types of questions remain unanswered for the rest of his life.
“You’d be able to do it, I know you would. You would be able to take care of Penny and the baby.” You knew he would, your husband would pull himself out of his depression to make sure your children were okay because of how much he loved them, despite his grief.
Eddie flinched, something you were quick to clock. You didn’t need to ask, he could see the question reflecting in those beautiful eyes of yours.
He had to break the news. You were already in a frail condition and he had to tell you the baby you’d almost died to have, your son, might still die.
“Honey, the baby—he—fuck, he’s uh…there’s something wrong with his heart.”
The way your face plummeted shattered something inside of him.
“What?”
“He’s got a hole in his heart, the doctor said it was pretty common amongst heart defects but since he was born so early, it’d be difficult to medicate him or perform an operation. All they can do is keep him under observation, he still might not make it because of how young he is.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping back to meet your pillow as you tried, and failed, not to cry. Why was this happening? You blamed yourself, why hadn’t you been able to keep him in your belly? Why had your own body betrayed you? Why had you failed your baby?
“This is all my fault,” you declared, eyes and cheeks growing wet with your tears.
“No, no, sweetheart.” Eddie was not about to let you take the blame for something out of your control or even allow you to believe any of this was your fault. “You can’t possibly believe this is on you. These things happen, it obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s just circumstance. It’s not your fault and it’s not the baby’s fault. You did everything you could and more. Okay?”
He leaned in, finger stroking gently across your cheekbone as he caught a tear. You sniffled, nodding once as he pulled you back together.
“What does he look like?” You asked, snuggling back into the pillow as Eddie coddled you.
He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “I—I don’t know.”
That elicited a small frown from you, “You haven’t seen him yet?”
Eddie swallowed hard, gaze moving away from you, “No.”
You waited, watching a series of emotions pass over his features. Eddie often tried to keep his internal struggles to himself, a habit you noticed once you became friends with him (ironically, through some trauma bonding) and even into your relationship. You hadn’t expected him to confide everything in you right away, though you had let him know should he ever need someone to talk to, you’d be there.
Now, it wasn’t a matter of if he would, it was when. It didn’t take him long.
“I don’t know—I guess,” he pursed his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the all too familiar burn of fresh tears. How many times had he cried in the last twenty-four hours? He felt ridiculous to be so emotional, then again, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this tragic situation, so he was due for a couple of breakdowns, “I know if I go down there and I—I look at him, I’m gonna fall in love with him and then what? He dies. I can’t do that, not if I’m gonna lose him forever. I can’t.”
Eddie was leaking tears, not yet sobbing but well on his way as he made his confession. He couldn’t stomach seeing his baby boy if he was going to be taken away from him, if the two of you would have to put a tiny little coffin—a size that should never have to exist—six feet into the ground. He’d been put through the fucking ringer but Eddie couldn’t do that. It would break him.
Eddie’s confession had you crying as well, you shared his pain. You didn’t want to lose your baby, either. You couldn’t remember what he looked like through the haze of your fatigue when you’d given birth to him, but if you tried to think hard enough, you could remember how it felt to have him in your arms in the passenger seat of Wayne’s truck. The first time you’d held him and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
Even if it was, you were grateful you’d had the chance to and you knew Eddie would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to see him, didn’t get to meet him.
“I know you’re terrified, Eds. It scares me, too.” You grabbed his hand just as it slipped away from your face, encouraging him to look at you. “I don’t want to lose him, either. I want to take him home. I want to cuddle with him, nurse him, take tons of pictures of him with Penny and with you, but most of all, I want to make sure he knows I love him.”
It killed you to imagine your baby in an incubator, small, helpless and with no one but the nurses, who could make the time to check on him in between all their other patients, offering him comfort. Human contact. And if he did end up passing, he could do so alone in there, not knowing how loved he was.
“I know you love him, Eddie, and you don’t want to lose him. But you can’t lose him if you don’t have him, baby. I hate that this is even a possibility for us, but I’d rather have held him and lost him than to never have picked him up at all. I’ll be okay with whatever you decide, but do you really want him to die without having gotten to meet his dad?”
Eddie let out a choked sob as he shook his head. He didn’t want his baby to die at all but you were right, if he did lose his kid, he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over the same thing Eddie had been upset with himself for when he thought he’d lose you. He’d been unable to recall the last time he told you he loved you. Only, he’d know he never told his son.
“I’ll be right back,” he swore and you nodded just as he leaned down to give you a kiss. He wiped away his tears, inhaled a particularly violent sniffle and you watched as he left your room to finally meet his baby.
Eddie felt almost disorientated as he navigated his way to the NICU. He’d been there once, briefly, to check on Penny when she’d been there for a few hours, but that was a couple of years ago and he’d needed the assistance of several nurses and staff to direct him, but he finally made it.
The entrance room, where the viewing window was located, was nearly empty. There was a woman further down, gazing through the large window.
Eddie approached it with caution and his heart racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t too difficult to find his baby. His son was in an incubator, close to the window and labeled ‘MUNSON’. For the first time, Eddie got to take his son in. He had been right, he fell in love with him at first sight.
He was smaller than some of the other babies, bigger than others as well and surprisingly well developed. Kind of calmed Eddie’s nerves, just a little. He had a couple of monitor pads attached to his tummy with an additional one wrapped around his tiny foot. Other than the nasal cannula, baby Munson didn’t have a whole lot of tubes attached to him like Eddie had imagined and he could see a smattering of hair on his head, somewhat light in shade but he had a feeling it would darken soon to resemble his own.
It was hard to tell if Wayne and Penny were right in their description of him, Eddie couldn’t tell if he was still pale since the baby was cloaked in blue light, but he assumed his son had gained some color by then. Eddie also couldn’t make out his eyes, those were covered by some sort of eye cloth, most likely for protection. He looked a little odd, obviously resembled a baby and while his features were almost indistinguishable, appearing a little generic, as his face still needed to develop a little more, Eddie could see hints of familiar features.
He looked like newborn Penny, well, so far. Her features had obviously changed since then, and still were, but he was promising to look almost exactly like she had when she was born. And Eddie thought Penny looked a lot like you, so it got a smile out of him, regardless of the fact his son was bound to resemble his family.
Eddie watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest with concern. Was he supposed to be breathing that fast? Was he okay?
“Which one is yours?”
Eddie turned to peer over at the woman who’d asked him the question, “Munson.”
Eddie watched as her gaze moved over all the incubators until they found the correct one.
“Oh, he’s a cute one. And his breathing looks incredible.”
“Really? It’s not too fast?” He asked, the worry in his voice obvious.
“Considering it’s his first time pumping those lungs, I don’t think so, no. Looks like he’s breathing real good to me. Mine needs a little help.” She pointed through the glass to an incubator that housed a baby with a tube in its mouth as well as individual ones in each nostril unlike his son’s nasal cannula. Eddie felt horrible.
“I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize but she waved him off, a smile still on her face.
“Don’t be, that’s all mine is here for. As soon as she figures out how to keep doing it on her own, she’ll be back with me and my wife.”
Right on, Eddie thought. Before he could continue their conversation, a nurse knocked on the window.
She gestured down to the baby, “Is he yours?”
Wow, this glass must have been thin, he could hear her pretty good.
For some reason, Eddie still assumed she couldn’t hear him and only nodded. She disappeared for a minute and emerged into the room through a large pair of doors.
“Would you like to hold him?”
Eddie glanced at the other occupant and she gave him a nod of encouragement.
“Yeah,” he rasped out, turning to look at his son through the window once more, “Yeah, I would.”
Eddie was nervous the entire time as she prepped him with instructions. While they were concerned about the hole in his son’s heart, he was well developed, had strong vitals, good reactions, even for thirty weeks. He was so good that had it not been for his heart, he probably would have been sent home at the same time as you, given your longer than average stay due to your c-section and preeclampsia.
And when she placed him in his arms, the love he had for his son almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he almost denied himself this.
“Can I touch him?” He asked, after he’d stopped marveling at the small face—eyes still hidden—in his arms.
“Mhm, we’d encourage it. Babies, even born preterm, are still very much so human. He craves the contact, it might even encourage him.”
Eddie didn’t hesitate, fingers gently stroking over the soft fluff of hair on his son’s head. This close, he could see it all pushed towards the middle of his head, like a mohawk. His baby was already metal straight out of your womb, it made him chuckle.
The nurse stepped away to tend to another baby, giving him a little privacy. Eddie maneuvered his son so he was resting on his chest, little head pressed against the spot just over his heart.
“Hi,” he whispered down to the baby in his arms, “I’m your dad.”
Much to Eddie’s awe, the baby nuzzled his head against his chest, making him still. He didn’t know why, but he’d believed his son wouldn’t be able to move for some reason. It was nice to know he was wrong.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” he laughed, the sound soft, “I’ve been looking forward to it, you must have, too. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh? Couldn’t wait in your mom any longer?”
Eddie ducked down to kiss his little head, lips remaining there as he moved to sit in one of the few chairs of the NICU.
“It’s okay, though. I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” Even if the outcome wasn’t okay, right at that moment with his son in his arms, everything felt like it would be. And if his son needed encouragement, Eddie would give it to him.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you, your mom had to talk some sense into me. She loves you a lot, you know? Probably jealous I’m down here and she isn’t, but only because she physically can’t just yet.”
Eddie’s hand went to support the back of his head as he moved the baby down to hold in his hands, staring down at his little face.
“I’ll bring her down to see you again as soon as I can, though. So you gotta keep fighting, okay? I know things are hard for you right now, not as easy as the other babies in the hospital, but I know you can do it. I love you so much, your mom and I just want to take you home, so you gotta beat this, okay?”
Eddie rocked his baby, gentle swaying motions as he pressed kiss after kiss to his head.
“I see you’ve made it down for a visit,”
Eddie glanced up at the face of Dr. Houseman, she didn’t look as intimidating as she had when she’d first approached him in the waiting room.
“Sorry to disturb you, but I’m very glad I caught you. I heard your wife is doing well.”
“She is,” he confirmed, with a relieved grin.
“Good, I’m glad. Have you been given an update on your little guy?”
Eddie recounted what the nurse had told him and Dr. Houseman looked pleased.
“Well, I have more news for you. He’s proving to be much stronger than we’d initially anticipated, and while his vitals were already good on intake, they’ve improved tremendously in the last few hours and so have his responses. I think he’s figuring out what he’s capable of doing; how to breathe, how to move, how to eat—we introduced him to a rubber nipple to check his latch response and it’s good, not quite there yet, we’ll have to get creative with his feedings but I think he’ll be able to latch onto his mom soon.”
She must have caught the way Eddie perked up at her use of the word soon. That meant his baby had a fighting chance.
“These first few hours after a birth such as his and with his condition are crucial. While he’s still significantly weaker than an average full term newborn, your baby seems to be a fighter. Should he survive this next night, I believe he’ll make it. He’d just need some time in here while the hole closes up, but it just might not be too much for him.”
She left him with that news and a parting smile.
Eddie held his son for a few more minutes before a nurse returned to put him back in his incubator. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d promised him he’d be back.
When Eddie got back to the room, his heart was a little lighter and he was able to smile when he saw you giving Penny, who was now wide awake, kisses. He pressed his back up against the door and watched for a few moments as you leaned in and gave her a loud kiss. She’d go into a fit of giggles before demanding another with an again!
“Daddy!” Penny beamed the moment she saw him and Eddie grinned as he made his way over, lifting her into his arms when she held hers up to him.
“Hi, pretty one. You sleep good?”
“Uh-huh,” it was clear she was distracted and didn’t care about his questions, no, she had some of her own. “You see my baby?”
Eddie raised an eyebrow, trading an amused look with you.
“Oh, he’s your baby now?”
“Ya, he’s—he’s my baby.” She nodded with a grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.
“Well, then yes. I saw your baby,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose.
“Wha’helooklike?” Penny blurted out, eyes wide as she waited for his reply.
“He looked a lot like you.”
“Nooooooo,” Penny laughed, shaking her head against her dad’s, “He is my potatoes, not anoda Penny.”
“It’s true!” Eddie laughed with her as he put her back down by your side and leaned in to give you yet another—he’d never stop giving them to you—kiss.
“He looks like her?” You asked, after you’d returned his kiss.
“Mhm,” Eddie fell back into the seat he’d occupied hours earlier. “Looks like she did when she was a newborn. He’s not pale—like a potato,” he directed that part to Penny who just laughed into her little hands, “anymore, at least. I don’t know whose eyes he has, they were covered.”
Eddie was right about you being jealous, you were practically green with it.
“I wish I could see him,” you stated sadly, frown on your lips. You knew, realistically, if he started to decline, they’d most likely let you out of bed to see him or bring him up to you, but still. You’d rather it not come to that.
“Ran into his doctor while I was there, she said he’s got a better chance.”
Your eyes lit up, “Really?”
“I was just about ready to kiss her.” He nodded and you made a face, nose doing that adorable scrunch he loved so much.
“Okay, well, don’t do that.”
Eddie snickered, “It was a figure of speech, baby.”
“I know, I’m just saying it on her behalf,”
“On her behalf?” Eddie pouted, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.
“Yeah, I want to kiss her, too, but—uhm, Eds, you might need some sleep ‘cause—you’re hot, you really are, but you also look insane right now.”
Eddie got up to make his way to the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, nearly jumping once he’d turned on the lights.
His eyes were beyond bloodshot, his eye bags were dark and very apparent, his skin had an interesting almost gray like tinge to it and his hair was a wreck. Eddie looked like he belonged in a psych ward.
“Jesus,” he shouted loud enough to be heard by you.
“It’s okay, Eds. You’re still beautiful to me!”
Eddie did end up sleeping. Turns out the chair he’d been sitting on was also a pull out bed. You insisted that he get some rest, and while he did, you changed Penny’s diaper and got some hospital room service for the two of you, you’d even picked something out on the menu for Eddie to eat once he woke up.
#pennyverse#dad!eddie munson#dad!eddie munson x reader#dad!eddie munson x mom!reader#eddie munson x pregnant!reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x reader angst#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#dilf!eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fanction#stranger things 4#stranger things volume 1#stranger things volume 2#stranger things vol 2#stranger things vol 1#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x black!reader#eddie munson x you#joe quinn x reader#joseph quinn x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfic#girl dad!eddie munson
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Trailer park Steve AU part 61
part 1 | part 60 | ao3
cw: mentions of canonical minor character death
Chapter 14
It's twilight by the time they make their way to Rick's place — gnat clouds swarming, sun dipped low, Lover's Lake an inky smudge beyond the blur of passing pines. Steve’s not totally sure how they got here, this dusty service road that's more pothole than pavement; one minute he's bitching about doomed love and double VHS, the next he’s taking the scenic route to a drug den.
There were some important moments in between, he’s pretty sure.
He’s also pretty sure he blacked out somewhere around the moment the morning news reported that an-unidentified-Hawkins-student-who-very-well-could-be-Eddie-Munson was found dead in his fucking trailer.
Kinda difficult to resurface from that one.
Feels like his soul’s got swimmer’s ear.
Even hours later — after Dustin and Max burst into Family Video talking a mile a minute about how Eddie was alive and they needed to use the phones; after Ernie stupidly gave a reporter Steve’s name, swearing up and down on the TV that his neighbor Steve Harrington was an upstanding young man who would never do something like this; after they spent an agonizingly long afternoon lying low and taking backroads to avoid the cops because the cops probably suspect Steve of murder now, oh god—
“It’s this next right up ahead,” Max says from the back seat. There's a map spread over the bench between her and Dustin, and Steve blinks himself awake; gives her a nod in the rearview.
Beside her, Dustin’s munching on Twizzlers he stole from the store — window down, easy slouch, just way too chipper for the situation at hand. "So Steve," he says conversationally, "now that you're a fugitive, does that mean—?"
Steve cuts Robin a pleading look.
Robin reaches back and smacks the little twerp upside the head.
"Ow!" Dustin whines.
"Shut up, please," Robin smiles.
Max makes a sound like she's trying not to laugh and checks the map again. "Right here," she says, pointing. "After that weird tree stump."
They turn onto another road that could be generously described as paved, once, several decades ago, and eventually, the winding path lets out onto a slightly nicer street. Aging but cared for, Holland Road is a crowded row of little lake houses, trailers and shacks with manicured shrubs and chipped fence paint, weeds growing through the sidewalks beneath pristine American flags. Steve pulls into the driveway of #2121.
It looks abandoned. Dark inside and out, a truck parked on the curb that's likely been there for a while, its tires sagging in a mulch of old wet leaves. There’s an autumn wreath on the front door.
“You sure this is the place?” he asks as they climb out of the car.
Max sasses him for questioning her navigation skills, Dustin unsuccessfully tries to land a revenge slap on Robin — a move that earns him a retaliation wedgie and a wrestling match he was never gonna win — and Steve pops the trunk and feels a hundred years old. Feels every bit the exhausted dad trying to keep the family road trip together as he grabs his nail bat and slings his duffel over his shoulder.
"You planning to spend the night?" Dustin teases from Robin's armpit, still bent double where she's got him in a headlock.
"No, just-" he drops the bag at their feet with a grunt, “doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”
Dustin’s eyes bug out. “Is that a can of goddamn bear mace?”
“Keep your voice down!” Steve hisses.
“You keep your voice down!”
"Should I just go ahead and choke him out?" Robin offers.
Steve considers it for a second: knock 'em all out, stuff 'em back inside the car. Go do this shit quietly by himself.
He rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips.
"You're no fun," she pouts, but she lets Dustin go.
Dustin grabs flashlights and walkies out of the bag, passes them around the circle. They take a moment to steel themselves — huddled together in the dark, shoulders tense, the creepy house looming ahead. Sharp shadows stretch toward them. Croaking sounds creeping from the edges of the lake.
Robin puts her flashlight under her chin like she's about to tell a scary story. "Alright, kiddos," she says in a deep, ominous voice. "Let's go rescue Steve's ex."
Stunned silence in the sudden vacuum her words create. Steve lets out a tired sigh. Dustin’s jaw is on the curb.
“His WHAT?” Dustin shouts.
Oh, my god. “He’s not my ex."
Robin rolls her eyes and says ‘sure’ under her breath, and Max turns to Dustin, laughing. “You didn’t know they were a thing?”
“We’re not—” Steve tries again.
“What were you trying to get them back together for then?”
She seems genuinely curious. Dustin seems three seconds from spontaneous combustion. “What was I WHAT?!” he yelps, limbs everywhere. Reminds Steve of Eddie so bad it hurts.
“Okay,” Steve interrupts, clapping them both on the shoulder; drops his voice to a harsh whisper. “In case you two forgot, we’re here to rescue Eddie.”
“Who you’re dating.”
Dustin’s voice is small, disconnected, his gaze far away. Like he’s shellshocked.
“Jesus Christ.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “I— Yes. No. It’s complicated.”
Max snorts at his answer, Dustin makes a series of faces like he's gonna need seven years to process, and Robin interrupts his crisis by waving her flashlight like a traffic guard, walking backward up the hill as she directs them toward the house.
“Why don’t we just go find him first?” she suggests, making a rainbow with her hands, flinging light through the grimy windows. “And then Stevie here can answer alllll your big gay questions.”
Steve glares at Robin. Dustin glares at him, narrowed eyes for a full ten seconds like 'yeah, you fucking better,' and then he takes off up the driveway hollering Eddie's name.
—
part 62
tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)
#trailer park steve au#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#max mayfield#dustin henderson#reefer rick#my writing#my fic
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the devil i know
chapter ten: i'm gonna stay faithful to the devil i know
(repost)
fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist
pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader
summary: Your full moon rite sparks some unexpected confessions.
cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking, piv sex, rough sex, name calling, public sex, exhibitionism, mild choking, brat taming, dumbification, reader is in heat, sex in a cemetery, eddie is a tease, marriage mention, sex pact, demonic rituals, love confessions, animal death mention, dead dove: do not eat
please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.
ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI
It doesn’t take you long to find a rickety motel in the middle of rip-roaring Cleary, across the river from Eastwick. You don’t imagine you’ll stay long enough to warrant another rental house or apartment, but you don’t want to think about what you’ll do when this is all over. You didn’t stop to collect anything besides a change of clothes after your apartment went up in flames; you hopped out the bedroom window and took off in your car, trying not to focus on how the fire never burned you, or how Eddie kissed your hand before disappearing into the flames.
The motel is backed up by trees, trees, and more trees. It’s a sprawling campus with two two-storey buildings, and a bungalow of a few cottages. The check in desk is inside a small reconstructionist Victorian-style house that doubles as a tavern on the weekends.
Thankfully, it’s not the weekend.
You stalk up the stairs of the second building, careful not to be heard by other guests. The motel still uses physical room keys; yours boasts a tag that reads 237. You slip mostly quietly into your room, and shut the door before leaning heavily against it. Checking in took more confidence than you have at the moment. You weren’t sure if the clerk could still see blood in your hair or your skin, smell the smoke on the clothes you’d quickly snatched from your dresser before the flames could touch them.
You’d washed off by pulling over and jumping into the river on your way out of town. The water was fucking freezing, and now instead of blood you have river water in your hair. Go figure.
You walk forward and collapse onto the motel bed. The box spring squeaks, the A/C unit clatters as it turns on, and you flop over to stare at the asbestos popcorn on the ceiling.
You laugh. You got out of everything easily; being attacked by Andy, your shithole apartment burning to a crisp, and (god forbid) skinny dipping in the Eastwick river. Eddie’s mark still burns on your wrist, under the sleeve of your sweater.
You don’t have anything now, aside from your car and the clothes on your back, and the money in your wallet. The police are stupid enough that they’ll assume you’re dead. You’re sure that if the complaints about gunshots aren’t enough to convince them, the blood on the walls that hasn’t been boiled away by the fire will.
Dante emerges from the shadows, barks happily once and hops onto the bed to settle beside you. He doesn’t have blood on him anymore, thank god– you don’t know what you’d do if you had to leave the motel with random bloodstains all over the white linens.
And the darkness forms into the shape of your lover, who sinks onto the bed beside you and stares down at you with the darkest, most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen in this life or the last. Eddie’s cheeks flush the prettiest carnation pink to match his lips when you reach up and trace them with your fingers. You lift yourself up to settle into his lap, all smiles as you wrap the demon around your little finger and catch his bottom lip between your teeth.
And you… you’re alive, and you can do anything that you want.
Whispers in the dark. Footfalls behind rotted trees, scuffs of earth that haven’t actually been stirred. It can’t entirely be in your mind. The crossroads is a volatile place at night, and even worse when the moon is full.
You asked a very confused motel clerk where the nearest crossroads she knew of was– she directed you to something in the center of town. That wouldn’t work, of course. You could only imagine Eddie throwing you down in the middle of an intersection and fucking you halfway to Sunday in front of the entire town.
You’re sure he’d love to do that, too.
You sighed and just ended up asking Eddie if he could tell you where the closest one was. If he’s a crossroads demon, it only stands to reason that he’d have a spidey-sense for that sort of thing.
There’s one about a hundred yards into the trees behind the motel. Take your time.
Of course, he isn’t there when you arrive. You don’t know why he’s drawing things out, while your body is breaking out in a cold sweat at the thought of him. Considering you fucked again last night, after you got to the motel, managing not to blow the place up this time, you would think that you’d gotten your fill.
But no, your body is still going insane with fever and lust, like it just can’t sit still without him there. The moon hangs overhead, bright white in the sky. There’s the littlest peek of it through the tree cover, but it’s enough to let you know that you have the right time, and you’re certainly in the right place. Your body knows that it’s in a more liminal place, now.
You tear at your clothes. You throw your shirt over your head so that your bare chest can hit some sort of fresh air and, theoretically, find some relief. You yank your pants off roughly and toss them into the bushes. All it does is cause another form of stimulation– the cool night air on the dampness of your skin, paired with the burning realization that you’re undressing in public.
Sort of. You’re the only one here. Or, at least, the only living person.
You’re not… nervous. Per se. You just don’t know what to expect out of a full moon rite. Will the ground split open and swallow you? Is it just gonna be a normal fuck with your demon boyfriend? Are you going to be able to walk afterwards?
“Probably not.”
Eddie. His presence pulses, screaming at you from across the clearing. Two paths cross in the center of it, creating an X on the ground where he stands, like he’s dead on a target.
“Look at you, getting started without me.” He chuckles. “And here I thought I was excited.”
The rabid animal in your chest leaps for him, and you follow it, like everything that you’ve felt and done for him up to this point has been preamble. Eddie’s arms come around you like they’re meant to be there, and you want them to be. Forever and ever and ever, until the meek inherit the earth and the sea swallows the land, et cetera.
Until the only thing left in the universe are your intertwined souls.
Your kiss is brutal, bordering on desperate rather than sweet. Eddie giggles into it– you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing that soft, manic giggle, or feeling it on your lips as you kiss him.
Eddie is too sweet for Hell and too chaotic for Heaven. You’re not sure how to reconcile it. At the end of it all, you don’t really see how spending eternity with him could ever be a bad thing. You don’t see why you wouldn’t give him your soul, again and again.
Eddie’s hands cradle your face, stroking strands of hair away from it while his eyes glow warm and inviting. “Did you get everything you wanted, sweetheart?” he asks, his fingers toying with a little strand beside your ear, curling it tightly around his fingertip before letting it slip free.
You think about it. In total, roughly two weeks have passed since you first signed over your soul to Eddie, and so far you have everything to show for it. You had your promotion, you got your car, a new dog. You killed your shitty ex and now you have a real reason to get the hell out of dodge.
It doesn’t seem like it makes sense. It doesn’t seem like a happy ending, but it is. It’s the happiest ending in the world for you, because you don’t have to stay in Eastwick with all the stones being thrown and taunts being yelled in your direction. And you’re in love with him.
You fell for the demon you sold your soul to, in a grand fucking total of two weeks and counting. And if that doesn’t scream irony, you don’t know what does.
“I did,” you say, nodding between his hands. You suck in a deep breath, smelling his smoke and the warmth of his body, and it makes your chest ache. “You’re what I want, Eddie. I love you so much.”
Eddie stops, blinking his fiery eyes at you. “What– what’d you just say?”
“I said I love you,” you repeat. You’re not taking it back. Not now. And you don’t have the ability to feel embarrassed about it, either. “I love you, baby. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before–”
“That’s because you’re in heat, baby,” Eddie insists, anxiously stroking your hair again like he’s trying to self-soothe. “Your body’s just gearing up for the rite, it’s not– you’re not in love with me–”
“Yes. I. Am.” You shoot him a caustic glare, balling your fists against his shoulders. “You can read my mind, right? You must know, Eddie. I think I started falling in love with you the minute you showed up with that stupid smirk and I– I fell for you, and I don’t care about the deal or heat or fucking rites, I just want you.”
Shushing you, he pets your head with a gentle hand. He sounds pained when he says, “I’ve loved you since Lacey brought me your petition.”
You freeze at that. “Lacey?”
Eddie nods.
“My… my dog?” You can’t wrap your head around it. Your blood is pounding in your ears, adrenaline making your hands vibrate as they grasp at him. Your dog– your sweet little girl who you thought was simply gone forever– is still protecting you, still pulling strings to give you a happy ending? “Lacey brought my–?”
“She chose me,” he tells you honestly. “She chose me for you. Because… she knew I was meant to be yours. And I am. I am yours. Forever, if you’ll have me.”
You’re nodding, excitedly, but you also smother him in a kiss before he can continue. You’ll have him forever, and ever, and even longer after that. Your need and your love both stretch on for eternity, and Eddie won’t say no to it. He’s kind of selfish that way.
He takes your wrist, and raises it to kiss the mark of his name on your skin. His eyes meet yours, and the mark burns, glowing orange and bright like it’s just been placed there.
“Eddie, what–? ” You whimper, your grip tightening on Eddie’s shoulder, but he just cradles you against him, soothing his lips over the mark on your skin until it stops burning, seconds later.
“Have to start the ritual, baby,” he says, and winks at you. “Doesn’t count if we just fuck like idiots without clocking in, y’know.”
His hands on you are wretched as sin, kneading at you like he’s just trying to memorize your body. You make a soft noise in your throat, letting your head fall to his shoulder with a huff of breath. Your eyes feel heavy as you breathe in his scent– his smoke, his fumes. They surround you, shrouding you in comfort and warmth, safety in the unforgiving cold and empty night.
“I’d do it without the ritual,” you hear yourself murmuring into his shoulder, your lips grazing across his tattered denim vest and up onto his neck. There’s a pulse beneath his skin, something that feels so human that it makes your own heart tremble in your chest. You can’t seem to stop yourself from talking, now. “I’d fuck you anywhere. All the time. I just fucking want you…”
“I know,” he chuckles, his hand cradling the back of your neck. “So let’s have some fun, yeah?”
You nod. You expect him to lower you down onto the ground, something like last night but with dead leaves and dirt all over you instead of blood. But instead, he just presses a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth, and then he swats your ass so hard that it makes you gasp.
“C’mon baby,” he whispers into your ear, his eyes and touch burning hot. “I know a spot.”
And with a blink, Eddie disappears, leaving you alone in the crossroads.
“Wait, what–”
A noise in the bushes makes you startle, and then something pushes you from behind, urging you into the trees. You yelp, and then a voice in your ear says, Trust me.
Stumbling, naked and delirious with lust, you trip and throw your hands against a tree to steady yourself. Darkness clings to the black night around you, just like your mind clings to every sound behind you, alerting you of Eddie’s presence.
It takes a good amount of you stumbling through the trees, guided by gentle prods at your back and sides, before you start to hear things behind you. You wonder if he’s climbed up into the trees and he’s watching you from above, like some angel of death.
The ground is uneven and damp from recent rain. There’s no path before or behind you, just infinite trees, looming out of the abyss apathetically. The trees don’t care what you do. They’ve been here, time and time again, and you’re sure that you are the least horrible thing they’ve seen.
In retrospect, you probably should have brought a flashlight. At least you’d be able to see him, wherever the fuck he is. Or where you’re going. You’re moving by the light of the moon in the trees.
He wouldn’t let you, like… actually eat shit, would he?
Eddie appears close to your shoulder once, just a flash of glowing eyes and a brush of a hand on your bare shoulder, a huff of breath in your ear. Toying with you, letting you know that he’s still there, guiding you in the direction that he wants. You whirl around to grab for him, but he’s already gone, leaving nothing but a giggle and a puff of smoke in his wake. He makes it clear, you can’t catch him; he’ll just appear, whenever and wherever he pleases.
You watch him skulk through the trees up ahead, just wandering as though he has all day. As if you aren’t aching for him and seething with rage at the trees that appear out of the darkness just to get in the way. His eyes are yellow, glowing in the dark like beacons, letting you know exactly where to go.
He leads you to a cemetery.
The back fence backs up to the trees, bent and mangled from teenagers breaking into it at night to party. Eddie disappears into the shadows, phasing out of existence in your periphery, leaving you alone to duck into the cemetery and weave through the weathered stones.
You can feel Eddie’s breath on your neck, even though your other senses tell you that nothing is there. It ignites every nerve in your body, raises the hairs on your skin. You stumble around a mausoleum, and that’s precisely when a looming shadow figure steps right in front of you. Clawed hands solidify out of the darkness, clad in heavy rings, and grab you by the waist.
“Eddie!” you screech as he materializes in his full form, monstrously large and covered in writhing, living tattoos. Enormous pointed horns and sharp teeth, black bat wings curling around you as he pulls you into him with a grin.
“You know you can’t hide from me,” he purrs at you in his low, demonic voice, and it might come off as disconcerting if you weren’t entirely in love with him. If you didn’t know that his claws will never bring you any pain that you don’t want, and his wings caging you in only serve to protect you, rather than imprison you.
You press in close to his hot chest, smelling his smoke and his aether, near purring, yourself. “Thank God for small favors.”
Eddie laughs, dragging his hand up to cradle the back of your skull. He bends down and kisses you sweetly, in a way that disarms you. So much more tender than you expected, savoring and long. He gives a deep sigh, and looks down at you with his beautifully glowing eyes, swirling with lava and ash, warm and near doting. “Much more romantic, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” you scoff, glancing around at the lonely tombstones in the darkness. “Real inviting spot you picked, honey.”
“I knew you’d like it,” he murmurs. And then sharper, when a mischievous grin crosses his face.
And he grabs you by the hips and spins you around to throw you down across the steps of a mausoleum.
“What– Eddie?!” Your stomach hits granite, your hands slapping against the hard, cold stone beneath you. Your knees brush the edge of a step and you squeak at the shock of the temperature, but something long and thin like rope wraps around your thigh and yanks you back towards him, spreading your thighs and making you collapse forward, your torso bumping the stone.
You yelp. “Do you have a tail?”
“Surprise, surprise,” Eddie murmurs into your ear. Then he drops the seductive tone to add, “Kinda cool, isn’t it?”
You find yourself giggling, pushing backward to press into his warm chest. He’s so big in his true form– hulking, like all of his bones have to grow in order to accommodate the amount of power he emanates. He crowds you, hovering over your bent body on the steps. “I fucking love it.”
“I know you do,” he hums. His tail, still wrapped around your thigh, pulls your leg until your knees widen. A quiet gasp leaves you when his hand, large and weaponized with sharp claws, cups your sticky cunt. “Think I can’t tell how much you fuckin’ love this? You were just made to be my whore, weren’t you?”
His teeth scrape your shoulder as he rubs your pussy, his whole hand rocking between your legs and kicking up a lewd squelch into the air. You choke, arching your back and wiggling your hips further toward his.
“Please, Ed– fuck!” He replaces his hand with his cock, and the moan you make is pornographic. Your breasts scrape against the stone underneath you, your nipples hard from the cold and the rough texture of it. The chill is fading, slowly being warmed by your body and his, practically burning hot in comparison to it.
His cock glides teasingly through your folds, making you keen softly; the sound still echoes, bouncing off the granite and into the cavernous mausoleum, louder than hell. Straight ahead is an abyss full of the dead.
Eddie pauses. “You know, it occurs to me that this is technically our wedding night– I mean, right?”
“Oh, nevermind about that,” you huff, wiggling your hips back against him. He’s right there, and you’re so fucking wound up that you can’t bring yourself to have a goddamn conversation at a time like this. “Just– dammit, Eddie, fuck me already.”
“No, I mean, really,” he muses, still not moving. You groan. “Like, if we got married on the dark moon, then isn’t this technically the consummation? I mean I know we already fucked and everything last night–”
You growl and jam your hips back against his. “Eddie, shut the fuck–”
His clawed hand clamps down over your mouth. You squeak, and then roll your eyes as he continues, “Prepare for the first day of the rest of your life. That’s how it goes, right? Or– no, wait. That’s not for weddings…”
You slam your hands down on the granite, roaring as hard as you can against his hand while you writhe back against him, trying to get the words that are running around in your brain across without saying them. The empty mausoleum creates an echo chamber that throws the sound of your roar back at you.
Eddie obviously gets the message, because he chuckles and pinches your cheeks between his fingers. His claws press into your skin as he tuts, “You want to fuck me so bad you’re gonna throw a tantrum about it? Really?”
You whimper, shaking your head slightly but still trying to force back against him. His tail yanks your legs further apart, making you lose your little bit of balance and slip back down against the granite again.
“Oh no no, baby, that won’t do,” Eddie coos, sounding so saccharine sweet, but you don’t think there’s anything sweet about what he’s thinking. “Look around. You’re in my house now, and I get all night to fuck that attitude out of you. Consider this a courtesy.”
And then he all but slams his cock into you in one go, throwing you forward across the steps with a wail that could scare all the ghosts back into their graves. He doesn’t give you time to adjust– just starts fucking into you with abandon, letting you scratch at the granite beneath you while you scream from the overstimulation.
You’re so sensitive after having gone a full day in heat, even though he’d given you everything you wanted and more last night. He’d been so gentle and giving, made love to you slowly and passionately on the cheap mattress in your motel room, careful to make sure you didn’t burn that place down.
There’s nothing of the sweet and slow of last night when he weaves his fingers into your hair and yanks your head back by the roots, growling, “Say, ‘Thank you, Eddie.’”
“Thank you, Ed– FUCK!” You moan obscenely loud, arching your back as your eyes nearly cross. His brutal pace is too much all at once, making you go slack, literally fucking you dumb.
You can’t think. You drop your head onto the granite step beneath you and just let him use your body, because nothing in heaven or on earth will ever feel as good as it.
In Hell, maybe.
“That’s it,” Eddie snarls at you, with the sound of skin on skin filling the air as punctuation. “Little brat always telling me to shut up– how’s it feel when I do it to you, huh?”
He strokes over something inside you that makes you lose all train of thought. Fire burns inside you, your voice cracking as you moan, rutting back against him to get him to hit there again–
And Eddie snatches you by the hips and lifts you until your back is entirely against him as he pounds into you. Manhandling you until you can’t move or kick, you just have to stay and take it.
“Stay down, like a good fucking girl,” he spits, his fangs scraping your shoulderblade as he bends over you. Your hand wraps around the edge of one of the steps, nails scratching audibly against it.
His balls slap your clit from each angle, and a moan dies with a squeak in your throat when he hits your g spot again, making you contort and writhe despite his hold. Eddie hisses behind you, feeling you tighten on his cock, his breath breaking across your skin in waves of warmth.
“Right there, sweetheart?” The snicker in his voice is infuriating. You’d snap at him if you weren’t unable to speak from the way that he fucks into you again with the same fluid motion, making stars burst behind your eyelids. His breath hitches, an audible groan in his throat when he says, “Love all those little noises you make when you’re getting fucked dumb. I could do this for ages, baby, you have no idea–”
“Oh fuck, please, Eddie–” You’re so wet, the sound of the slickness of it nearly echoes in the cavern of the mausoleum. Your face burns, your body breaking out into a sweat.
“Mmm, what is it?” Eddie’s clawed hand comes up to wrap around your throat, completely eclipsing it and pulling you to him. “What more do you need, huh?”
It’s like the minute he finds the pace and angle that has you mindless, he focuses all his energy on it. You feel like you’re melting, your body turning into that same lava he embodies and molding with his own. Spinning and swirling until you’ve fused together and nothing can separate you.
You let out a noisy whine. “N-need– I need to cu– hmm–”
Eddie croons, “Yeah? Little witch needs to cum? Gone all day without it, you just have to cum so soon?”
Your eyes nearly roll back into your skull when his wings slam down on either side of you, cracking the stone steps you lean on with the force. He uses his free hand to stroke down your tummy, over your pelvis to where the lips of your pussy part around his cock. Eddie parts his fingers, gliding them around the seam of your cunt to feel the way that he pumps in and out of you, your body stretching to make room for him.
“You think you deserve it?” He whispers threateningly, beginning a torturous back and forth with his fingers, avoiding your clit entirely. You don’t think you can stand much more teasing– everything in you is wound up tight and ready to snap, your toes curling hard as your muscles flex in warning.
“Yes– yes, Eddie, for the love of fu–” You get cut off because Eddie squeezes your throat a little bit, making your sentence die with a moan.
“Just do one thing for me,” he rasps, sounding wretched and beautiful and so close to losing it, himself.
“Anything, I’ll do anything–”
The push and pull is intoxicating. You feel ecstasy vibrating in your limbs, removing any other thought or sensation from you until all you can focus on is him. Eddie, your demon, the one who was made for you and the one who was fated to be brought to you.
“Say that you love me again,” Eddie says, a gentle waver in his voice that makes your breath hitch and your heart race. “Tell me again, I want to hear it.”
You were always going to end up here. It just so happens that you came together sooner, rather than later.
“I love you,” you whisper back, and it feels like your entire body will burst with the intensity of it. And he kisses your shoulder once, just enough for you to know that he heard you. Enough for you to know that in spite of his teasing and his mind games, this is the truth.
“I love you so much,” Eddie tells you as his breath ghosts your ear, lighting a fire beneath your skin. And his fingers drift up to your clit.
When you cum, it’s with a cry that resounds in the cavernous chamber of the mausoleum and bounces back out into the hazy night. He grips your hips hard and fucks you through it. You feel lazy, sated, unable to move or speak or do anything other than take everything he gives you with weak whimpers that sound so much louder to your ears than they actually are.
Eddie growls and fills you, until you drip with him and the evidence of what you did here; the first of many full moons to come.
He cradles you there on the mausoleum steps, giving you sweet kisses as your body stills and lowers into a thick, post-orgasmic lull. You curl into his warmth, naked in the pale moonlight and shivering a bit from the early autumn chill.
“Hey, you know…” Eddie says after a moment, pulling you from the soft refrain of your thoughts, “I wasn’t entirely kidding about this being… my house. I guess.”
“You live in a fuckin’ mausoleum?” You slur tiredly, your head lolling to the side to look up at him.
“What? No, not the—” he sighs. “We’re, ah. Technically in the Otherworld right now.”
“Oh.” You blink up at him, watching the way the embers in his eyes swirl and glow bright orange. “Oh?”
“Yeah,” he scoffs, a bit of a half laugh that lets you know he’s embarrassed. As embarrassed as a demon can be, more or less. “It’s kind of where stories of the Witches’ Sabbath come from. Certain rituals… when the demon is present… they take place in the Otherworld.”
“And what does that mean?” You whisper up at him with a conspiratory grin.
“Just look.” Eddie gently tilts your head up, prodding you to look out across the cemetery. And you gasp.
Spirits. Ghosts and ghouls and the like. They mingle among the stones, the above ground tombs, the trees. A bonfire in the distance– the near distance, just in the treeline– shows you another rite happening. Another sabbath.
There are more witches in Eastwick than you thought.
“Holy shit,” you breathe, sitting up in Eddie’s arms. Mist hangs in the air, getting thicker the more your presence within the realm solidifies. Everything is eerie, foggy like it’s happening in a dream.
“A lot more fun than your standard crossroads,” he muses. “Am I right?”
You glance back at Eddie, all scars and horns and sharp teeth, but looking no less beautiful than he always does. You’ve chosen the prettiest of all the demons, you’re sure of it.
Or, is it that he chose you? Or… weren’t you chosen for each other?
A little figure materializes in the darkness, galloping toward you on tiny legs that don’t seem to touch the ground. The smoky figure of the Dachshund shifts in and out of focus– she’s getting the hang of manifestation, slowly but surely. It’ll take more work, but she’ll get there.
“Lacey?” you whisper, bending forward to let the little figure sniff your hand. She doesn’t need to, though. She barrels toward your hand and bonks into it at full force, her smoky head dissipating for a second with her excitement. Despite how much you wish you could pet her, you giggle, and it sounds echoey and strange in the liminal atmosphere. “Oh my gosh, I missed you so much.”
“She missed you, too,” Eddie says fondly, twirling a lock of hair at the base of your neck around one of his clawed fingers. “She might have to wait a little bit until she can hang with you in your realm, but as long as you’re here…”
He trails off, watching as Lacey yaps and happily runs back and forth in front of your legs, excited to see you again.
“Well, it’s only appropriate, considering who brought us together,” Eddie concludes, chuckling a little when she tries to jump on your legs and still passes right through them. “Lacey, she isn’t from this realm. You won’t be able to cuddle just yet. Aww– she’ll get there. She’s a smart one.”
You turn to gaze at him, teary-eyed and lovestruck in spite of your surroundings. “What do we do now?” You ask him shyly, in a whisper, as if you’re afraid that one of the spirits will hear you and take exception. As if you didn’t already fuck nasty right in front of them.
Eddie smiles, and the embers in his eyes explode into picture perfect fires. Roaring with love and affection. “Whatever you want, baby.”
There’s a rhythmic drumbeat from within the trees, where the witches dance around the fire with their respective demons– just as you always imagined a stereotypical witch’s Sabbath might look like, if old accounts from ye olden days held any merit. You tug Eddie by the arms, leading him toward the bonfire, the drums mimicking the rhythmic thump of your own heart. Lacey excitedly zips around your ankles, passing directly through them in her haste on occasion.
You dance.
And you dance.
And you fuck on the tomb of some guy named Roland, whose stands off to the side as a ghost, glaring at you the whole time. You don’t care at all. You’re looking at Eddie the whole time, anyways.
He’s everything you could have wanted and more.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#stranger things#tdik!fic#stranger things fic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#demon!eddie munson#demon!eddie#roses*
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Mr. Munson (part one)
older!eddie x fem!reader smut
word-count: 689
minors please do not read! @eddiemunsons-missingnipple thank you for letting me use your older!eddie edit for the header! DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU’RE 18 OR ABOVE! Thank you for all your support! Reblogs/interaction are very much appreciated I hope you guys enjoyed this!
Being spread out and vulnerable for your older neighbor wasn’t something you would’ve ever expected to happen, yet here you were. The older man above you smirked as you squirmed beneath him, moaning softly as he ran his rough hands over your body.
He had a bit of a reputation from years ago, apparently he was a suspect in a murder, although he didn’t actually do it. The town still hated him, but you were drawn to him. He was mysterious and possibly the most handsome man you had ever seen.
Right now, he looked like he wanted to eat you alive, leaning down to suck a dark spot onto your neck, grinding his hips down against yours, causing the roughness of his jeans to rub right against your bare clit. You shivered from all the sensations running through your body. “Feel good baby?” He whispers into your ear softly, his words contradicting his rough actions.
You nod softly, letting him spread your legs for you, the wetness from you pooling down onto the bed beneath your ass. He sits up, staring down at where you needed him the most, with a dark look in his eyes. “Such a pretty pussy, it’s all for me yeah? Just for me?” You moaned loudly, his pointer finger circling against your clit, rubbing faster and faster as he awaited your response.
“I-it’s all yours Eddie! Fuck, please need you.” He laughed watching you struggle to lift your hips up, searching for something more than just his finger. He pulls you up by your neck, making you sit up on your elbows to look up at him. “That’s a good girl, I’m glad you know who owns you. Now, you’re gonna behave and watch me take my cock out, and if you don’t, you’ll get to watch me get off while you get nothing. Understand?”
You swallow, pouting up at him, you wanted to retaliate but you knew he was serious. “Yes sir.” You whispered, watching him sliding his belt off through the loops. You’ve never seen him before but just the bulge that had been hiding away for the past hour was enough to tell you that he’s big. He pulls off his pants and boxers in one swift motion, watching as you look down at him and bite your lip.
He was perfect, long enough that you knew you’d be feeling him all the way in your guts. There was no doubt in your mind that for at least the next week you wouldn’t be able to walk. “Beg me for it.” He growls out, pumping himself in front of your face. Your mouth watering as pre-cum slides down the head of his cock. “P-please Mr. Munson.” You whine, jutting your lip out and batting your eyelashes at him the best you could.
Suddenly Eddie stopped stroking himself, pulling back and looking down at you confused. “Where are you at?” He says, you sit up confused and look around. “W-what are you talking about Eddie?” Suddenly, a hand is waving in front of your face, snapping you out of whatever trance you were in. “Sweetheart? You okay?” Your face falls as you look at Eddie, standing in front of you at your front door fully clothed.
“You don’t look so great, maybe you should lay down.” He says, a knowing smirk breaking out over his face. The wrinkles by his eyes crinkling. You nervously look away from him, realizing that none of it had even happened at all, Eddie had been standing here for the past few minutes watching you daydream about fucking him. You’d never be able to show your face to him again.
He goes to walk down the stairs of your porch before turning back around looking up at you, “Oh and sweetheart, you talk when you zone out.” Your eyes widen even more as you go to shut the door quickly, but not before you hear him mock you in a high pitched voice, “Please, Mr. Munson.” He laughed, walking back to his own house with a hard on, and a smirk plastered on his beautiful face.
#older!eddie smut#older!eddie#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x female reader smut#eddie x you#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie x y/n#eddie munson smut series#older!eddie munson#eddie munson x reader smut
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can we talk about the first time you suck bby boy eddie's fingers? like it's all innocent and everything but he'd be sooo turned on. because I think about it a lot
✶ ┄ EDDIE'S FINGERS !
summary: you're obsessed with eddie munson's fingers. so obviously when you have the opportunity to put them in your mouth, you're going to. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader warnings: finger sucking??? it's a little bit suggestive a/n: anon... you're so right. this is absolutely something everyone should be talking about.
( MASTERLIST )
here’s the thing about eddie
the kid’s got some gorgeous fucking fingers
and all of the rings he wears just adds to it really
he’s just trying to bake a cake for wayne’s birthday but that's seriously all you can think about
you’re sitting on the counter behind him while he tries to figure out how to work the mixer by the stove that’s been collecting dust about as long as he’s been alive
his back is to you and you can see the muscles of his back flexing through his t-shirt while he tries to put the thing together
and you try to warn him about putting it on the highest speed immediately but he doesn’t listen
so obviously he gets cake batter all over his arms
his so very, very pretty, beautiful arms—
thankfully you’re not in the splash zone so you come out unscathed
but eddie’s a total mess and so is the counter
everything (including him) is covered in batter and flour and sugar
and he just keeps adding to the mess
he’s so concentrated on making sure everything tastes right he doesn’t care about anything else
when he successfully gets the cake into the oven with minimal damage done, he starts working on making the icing from scratch
because ofc he made everything from scratch
i seriously believe that this man is a whole ass baker and no one can tell me otherwise (baker!eddie anyone???)
but he keeps taste-testing each batch and you can’t help but watch him so intently
he dips his fingers into the bowl like an animal and scoops the icing up to his mouth
his cheeks hollow while he sucks the sugary substance from his fingers
and you watch the profile of his face contort from delight to disgust and then to confusion
he furrows his brows and scrunches his cute lil nose
and walks until he’s standing between your legs
“can you taste this for me, babe? i can’t tell if it’s good or not”
he all but shoves the bowl at you
and he’s basically holding it with the palms of his hands because 1. it’s sticky and messy and 2. his fingers are also sticky and messy with bits of icing still on them and his rings
“i don’t know… are you sure it’s not gonna poison me?”
“pinky promise, sweetheart”
and obv he’s expecting u to go for the wooden spoon he’s got sitting in the bowl
so you can imagine his surprise when you grab his wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth
he almost drops the entire fucking bowl
he watches with suddenly heavy eyes as you suck the icing from his knuckles
and flick your tongue at the tip of his fingers
and then tilt your head to the side to lick off the remaining icing on his silver rings, just for good measure
your eyes flutter shut a little and you hum and the taste
and eddie’s breathing gets all heavy and his eyes glaze over
because holy shit now he wants you to do that to his dick
you pull back with a nod
“could use a little more sugar”
eddie pulls back and hopes his face isn’t as red hot as it feels
“yes ma’am”
got any blurb requests? send 'em here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱
#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson imagine#stranger things imagine#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie spaghetti hc#published by bug#st headcanons
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We got each other (and that's a lot)
Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18
Prompt: Hurt/Comfort
Rated: M
CW: Violent imagery; aftermath of injury
Tags: Steve got vecna'd (he's okay, though); Angst; Trauma; Fluff
Notes: Continued from day 3. They'll be fine, they just need to kiss some and get a lot of therapy, probably.
Wanna see these soft, broken boys sleeping? Check out the heartwrenching art by @house-of-the-moving-image
Eddie drifts.
Inky blackness surrounds him like cotton, every sound, every thought muffled. His neck and fingers and arms still hurt, but it's the dull kind that comes with exhaustion, the tingle of adrenaline finally rushing from his body. Some distant part of him is still stirring, demanding that they stay alert … but the darkness is warm and soft and alluring as it pulls him under.
Something cold touches his hand.
Eddie flinches awake, heart kickstarting in his chest, fear zapping into his limbs like an electric current.
He fell asleep, he realizes, and the terror of it claws its way up his throat like a slimy, rotten tangle of vines. He fell asleep and when he opens his eyes it'll be to find Steve floating under the ceiling again, to find Steve's mangled corpse on the bed, eyes sucked from their sockets, face twisted in an eternal, grotesque scream, it's too late and he fell asleep, he fucking fell asleep while-
Steve is awake.
Steve is awake and he's looking at him and he's alive and his hand is lying on top of Eddie’s. It's cold and there's a needle in it from the IV cord and he's ghastly pale against the sheets, but he's smiling softly and he's alive, he's alive and Eddie wants to scream, to cry, to kiss him and never stop, to hold him and never let go-
"Hey," Steve whispers.
"Hey," Eddie croaks. "You look like shit, man."
"Aw," says Steve, and the corners of his mouth twitch and Eddie thought he'd never see his smile again and shitshitshit don't cry, Munson, don't cry. "Thought I was pulling it off real well."
He jerks his head in the general direction of the cast on his right leg, the one on his left arm. Eddie thinks he'll hear the sound of the bones breaking in his nightmares for the rest of his life.
"Typical," is what he says. "Half dead and still worried about your looks."
Steve hums a not-quite-laugh. His fingers caress the back of Eddie’s hand.
"Is he …?"
"Dead," Eddie blurts. "For real this time. It's over."
"The kids?" Steve's fingers twitch.
"Fine," Eddie says, watches how Steve's entire form sags with relief. "Buckley and Wheeler, too. And everyone else. It's over."
"I- good." Steve screws his eyes shut, gulps. Draws a shuddering breath. "That's good."
Eddie watches how his shoulders start shaking. Following a sudden impulse, he flips his hand and tangles his hand with Steve's, careful not to upset the needle. Steve blinks down at their entwined fingers.
Eddie forces himself to smile and rambles on before either of them can question the gesture.
"El was so fucking metal, you should've seen her. Like, the way she obliterated that douchebag? Remind me to never get on that girl's bad side! Seriously, man, I don't think any of us would be here if she hadn't-"
"Well, I don't think I would be here …" says Steve. "... if it hadn't been for you."
Eddie’s words barrel to a stop. Steve’s fingers tighten against his, trace the callouses on his hands. Steve’s smile is small and soft, but his eyes are serious, trained stubbornly on the ugly pattern of his hospital gown.
"I thought you hated Bon Jovi."
Eddie huffs. "Fuck, yeah, I do. Forcing me to besmirch my Sweetheart's strings with that mainstream shit? You owe me big time, man. Better start thinking of ways to pay me back."
"Yeah?" Steve raises their tangled hands lightly. "How's this for a start?"
And then, before Eddie can even wonder what he's about to do, he ducks his head and presses a kiss to his knuckles. His lips are soft and warm.
Eddie blinks. Waits for the world to stop spinning.
"For … a start?" he repeats dumbly.
Steve's eyebrow quirks.
"Dude, I'd like to do so much more, but I'm glad I managed to lift your hand, to be honest. We should also first talk about stuff, I guess."
"Oh," Eddie says intelligently. "You mean … like that thing you wanted to tell me?"
"Yeah, like tha- … that thing." Steve needs to interrupt himself for a huge yawn halfway through. Since one of his arms is in a cast and the other hand is refusing to let go of Eddie’s, it ends up open-mouthed and adorable. "Probably'll have to sleep some more b'fore that, though …"
"Sure thing," Eddie is out of his chair and fussing with the pillow before he realizes what he's doing. Steve's eyes are already drooping as he helps him settle down. "I'll … I'll be outside, tell the others you're-"
"Eddie?" Steve's grip around his wrist is light as a feather, but he still stops like he's been tethered in place. When he turns, there's fear swimming in those pretty eyes. "Stay? I don't … I'd rather not be alone."
Eddie is back in his chair before Steve can finish the sentence.
"Can you…" Steve's eyes are slipping shut again and his words are slurred, so that Eddie must lean closer to catch them. "D’you think you can sing? So I can find my way back, if- … Your voice is like light."
Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know if there's anything he could possibly say to that. So he says nothing. Just swallows around the lump in his throat and takes Steve's hand and starts singing softly.
By the time Steve's breath evens out and his fingers go limp, Eddie’s other hand has found its way into his hair.
Eddie keeps singing for a long while.
For as long as he's here, Steve will always have someone to guide him back.
Part 3
All my holiday drabbles
#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie brainrot#steddie fanfic#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#steddie holiday drabbles#hype's holiday drabbles
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Eddie Munson x cheerleader! Reader (enemies to lovers) they say that they hate each other, but they sleep together after every party they go to, after some time, they realize they have feelings for each other and they decide to confess and they realize they've been dumb all this time
I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3
I can't lie....I fucking love how this turned out and love the ending 🫶🏻 I hope you guys feel the same.
The line between love and hate
There was a thin line between love and hate. Y/N and Eddie both stood on the side of hate when it came to each other. At least, they liked to believe that.
Y/N was a cheerleader. Perfect in every sense of the word. Preppy and cheerful. Bows in her hair and a bright smile on her face. Popularity that filled her head and got her the things she wanted. She was beautiful and she knew that. She didn't struggle to have guys falling to her feet b
Eddie was a troublemaker. He enjoyed pranks and making teachers wish they picked a different job. He had a close group of friends but didn't venture out to make new relationships. He enjoyed cigarettes, weed, and liquor. He had a sense of bad boy charm that had girls falling his every step.
Two of the schools most wanted bashed together into one heated and hated situation.
Y/N hated Eddie more than she hated anything in her life. She hated his curly hair, she hated the way she tugged on it when he ate her out. She hated his brown eyes, the way they got so dark when he pushed himself inside of her. She hated his lips and how soft they felt against her skin. She hated that she never felt his lips against hers and she hated that she cared.
Eddie hated Y/N with every part of his body.... except one part. He hated that everyone worshiped her. He hated that all the guys wanted her. He hated her long legs and how they felt wrapped around his body. He hated her perfect nails and the way they dug into his back. He said her smart mouth and the way she gagged around him. He hated how amazing her cunt felt and how her voice said his name. He hated her.
And they made it obvious. Everyone in town knew Y/N and Eddie could not stand each other. Many could see the sexual tension binding the two together. Girls were jealous of her for the way Eddie's eyes watched her. Boys were jealous of him for the way Y/N's scent lingered on him.
"So we meet again." Eddie teased, his lips on Y/N's neck as his hands pushed down her skirt.
"Shut up." She moaned, her hands in his hair, clenching around him as he pushed himself inside of her. Her back against the door, Eddie's strong hands holding her up as he fucked into her.
The party was alive on the other side, their friends searching everywhere. A knowing look in their eyes when Y/N came into view, marks on her neck and lipstick smeared. Eddie is behind with messy hair and lipstick on his collar. They didn't bother to hide anything.
Everyone knew but some guys didn't care. Some guys still went after her just to give it a shot. Eddie didn't bother with other girls. He had some sort of connection to Y/N and he didn't find it anywhere else. He hated that.
~~~
Eddie felt his blood boil when he saw her talking with a guy. The music was too loud, he couldn't hear their conversation. But Eddie felt like it was a slap to his face. His hickies still covered her neck as she batted her eyelashes towards the guy. He couldn't tell if it was an act to make him jealous, or if she truly wasn't interested in Eddie at all.
Wait, why did he care? Why did he feel jealous? Why did his stomach hurt watching her lips press against someone else's, lips that he never had the chance to kiss?
Eddie wasn't sure why, but he marched over to them. He yanked the guy off of her, barely seeing his face as Eddie landed a punch straight across his cheek.
"EDDIE!" Y/N gasped, she went to kneel but Eddie grabbed her arm. His angry grip was tight on her skin as he marched outside.
"LET GO OF ME!" She yelled, throwing off his grip. Eddie paced angrily in front of her. She could hear his heavy breathing and practically steam coming out of his ears.
"What is your problem?" Y/N snapped
"MY PROBLEM?" Eddie screamed, but he tried to tone down his anger when she jumped.
"I mean FUCK!" he gripped his hair. He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't even sure why he was so mad.
"Are you jealous?" Y/N asked, she wasn't sure why he'd react the way if he did unless he was jealous.
"I don't know!" Eddie spazzed, his hands waving in the hair. "I think so? But I don't know why! I never really thought about my feelings for you, but something about you kissing a guy! When we don't even kiss, it just feels like a kick to my gut." Eddie explained. He was open and vulnerable. All he wished was that she took care of him the way he needed and didn't leave him stranded.
"Do you like me, Eddie? Or do you hate that I'm not owned by you?" She asked, she hoped he liked her. Underneath all that hate, piles and piles of hate it all hid the true feelings she had for him.
"Both? I've never picked apart my feelings. Hating you was just easier since you hated me. I don't want you to be with anyone else. I don't want anyone else touching you or making you laugh. I want to be the only one." He explained, throwing himself down on the curb. Y/N nodded and moved to sit next to him.
"I don't hate you, Munson. I like you and I knew I shouldn't because we are so opposite that I figured it would never work. But I can't tell you how jealous I feel hearing girls talk about you." She confessed, it felt good to say it to him. No more hiding behind the line.
"Then why didn't you ever push for something more?" He asked.
"I'm a cheerleader, Eddie, I figured you liked the sex but would never feel anything real for me. You hate the crowd I'm with. I figured you'd hate being with me."
"We never truly hated each other, did we?" Eddie chuckled, shaking his head at their stupidity.
"I don't think so." She giggled, she moved closer and leaned her head on his shoulder.
"If you wanted to kiss me, you could have the whole time." She whispered.
Eddie didn't say anything and she thought she said the wrong thing. But then his head turned, and his finger picked up her chin.
His eyes stared into hers as he nervously licked his lips. She felt her body take a sharp intake of air as she waited. Her hands clenched together as he slowly leaned in.
The way he took over the kiss had her head spin. He was strong and in control. His arm wrapped around her body to move her closer. His warm lips moved perfectly against hers. Her body felt fuzzy.
Eddie never knew kissing someone could feel so good. It felt like the last step they needed to make to confirm their feelings. He dreamed of kissing her and it was better than he ever thought it would be. Her lips were soft and warm. He could spend all night kissing her.
There was a thin line between love and hate. Y/N and Eddie both stood on the side of love when it came to each other.
Tags!
@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson request#eddie munson angst#eddie munson angst x reader#eddie munson fluff x reader#eddie munson x cheerleader#eddie munson x cheerleader!reader#eddie munson angst to fluff#ashwhowrites
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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers
CHAPTER SIX — IN MY ORBIT
PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT
summary: it's escape from new york, if by new york you mean eddie munson's trailer. he knows you need to stay away from him, you know he needs to stay away from you, but honey... who else is gonna tell him there's an 'e' in roane county? content warnings: MINORS DNI obviously, my god. we've got your usual here-- mentions of masturbation, both male and female, white hot motherfucking yearning of the sexual and emotional kind, a surprise nancy wheeler, little women references, sticking it to the teacher we don't need no education style, eddie munson says acab word count: 12.2k
Dear hooker from the Christmas card in Minneapolis, can you shut the fuck up? I need to think!
Dear Bilbdoolpoolp, you nutty sea bitch goddess, do me a solid and send me a diversion– tear the roof off this trailer– I need to think!
Dear Lacy, quit looking at me like I just bit the head off your Virginia Woolf doll. I want to suck face with you so bad, like really goddamn bad, and you seem like you want to do it to me as well, what with your whole, like, big doe eyes and all that shit, but I need.
To think.
It’s not what Eddie wants to clamp over your mouth, but it’s what you’re getting. His hand, his whole ringed hand, which takes up the better part of your face so all he can see is your eyes flashing from possibly turned on (jury’s still out) to confused to plain angry.
“Mmmphmph!” you squeal against his hand, and he pulls his most panicked, most pleading expression out of the bag.
“Lacy! Lacy. Lay-cee,” he hisses, teeth grit and spittle flying,”Do me a favor, do me a favor for once in your life and be. Cool. Be cool.”
His fingers slide from your mouth and your jaw is set all hard. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?!”
Right. Ice princess. Totally. Totally. “When I said be cool, I meant be quiet!”
“Ed.” That gruff rumble is coming from right outside his door. Eddie holds an index finger to his lips, and motions, like a goddamn kindergarten teacher, for you to do the same. Because that’s all you seem to understand. And you roll your eyes, but you do it anyway. And he– fuck, you’re cute.
“Yee-aah?” he calls back, tone about as even as the Appalachian mountains.
“Can I–”
“No!” Eddie barks, seeing that door handle twist a fraction of an inch. What would Wayne do, if he caught you in here? Would his brain explode all over the trailer? Would that be the end of the last truly good Munson family member? I mean, probably not, but he’d be all disappointed in Eddie and that would be worse. So much worse. “I’m not… Decent.”
You, still with your finger planted in the indent of your cupid’s bow, do a bad job of suppressing a snort. “Who are you, Rita Hayworth?” you hiss, and Eddie raises his hand to seal your stupid lips up again. Stupid. Lippy. Stupid lips. You bat it away, motioning like, okay, I’ll be cool!
Who the fuck is Rita Hayworth, anyway?!
“Well. Get decent,” Wayne says, a single knuckle rapping on the door–that means get movin’, “Need to talk to you.”
And far be it from Eddie to keep the man he’s effectively betraying by stowing you away in his bedroom waiting. Up like a shot, he lifts the needle from the skipping record, pausing by the door before he heads out to meet his fate.
He can tell by the look on your face that he’s blown this. Whatever it is– was. He had a perfect precipice of a moment, and he’d totally shot himself in the foot. But Eddie would sooner see you alive and unkissed than dead of pneumonia in the freezing rain, ‘kay? Call him a hero, whatever.
“Just–”
“--shut the fuck up,” you whisper, hands drawn up in surrender. Realizing that there’s nothing funny about this situation. “I got it.”
The door whumps closed behind him, shaking the entire trailer in its wake, and you wait all of three seconds before racing to it and pressing your ear up against the paint-chipped wood.
What’s going on out there? Is it about me?
How could it be about you? Unless Munson’s uncle had some kind of sixth sense, some breach in his cerebrum that alerted him once you crossed the threshold of his precious trailer. Come to think of it, you don’t remember seeing a second bedroom in this thing.
You’d be lying if that didn’t elicit a little pang of pride– my trailer’s better than your trailer, you jealous? Doesn’t answer the question of where the Munson uncle sleeps, but at least you and your mother had a two-bedder.
To your flaring frustration, the Munson men have opted to use an indecipherable muttering gravelly man octave with which to discuss this pressing business. That could or could not be about you. Insanely inconsiderate that this is the one time that Eddie Munson isn’t the loudest voice in the room, a ball of fury and sound and action knocking over everything in its wake. When it was the one time you actually wanted to hear what he had to say.
You also regret to inform yourself that that wasn’t all you wanted from him, up until about forty-five seconds ago.
The white-hot embarrassment of being caught ready to throw a leg over him–the white hot embarrassment of being caught holding onto his wrist in the record store, of him catching you falling out of his van–descends over you in a wave that almost takes you out at the knees.
But you’d wanted it– you did, in one suspended moment that you couldn’t pawn off on being high or drunk or wildly angry, sobbing soaked out in the rain. You had looked at Eddie Munson, in his dark, bottomless eyes and took in his slope of a Grecian nose and his dumb, effusive mouth with the pink lips and the pretty teeth and you had wanted it. Him. Him and the nebulous it that he would inevitably end up doing to you.
He wanted you back. You thought.
When Eddie slips back into his bedroom, you’re peeking through his blinds. Your trailer remains in total darkness, that criminal slip of a key obviously still jammed in the lock. You look over your shoulder at him and his brow is set in such a weird and distant crease that you think– shit. Maybe I hallucinated all that. Maybe that was all me.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice flat and near silent. What happened out there?
“My mom,” you start, “She…”
Never came home, is where you were going with it, but you don’t get to finish. “Okay,” he says, all absent. He flicks off the bedroom lamp as he passes it, this unconscious motion that leaves you both stranded in a blue-tinged darkness.
In the moments it takes your eyes to adjust, he’s sitting next to you on the bed.
“I’m gonna sleep on the floor,” he tells you. His irises are shiny and hard and serious.
Oh. The kind of tension you want to poke at.
“Don’t be stu–”
“I’m not bein’ stupid, Lacy.”
You blink. Your faces are close. In the dark, the fractals of him would be easier to not remember in the daylight. You could pick out the parts you wanted–his cheekbone, his jutting jawline, the sloping corner of his mouth–and not puzzle them together in the morning. You could separate it. It could be fine. A non-event.
“It’s cold,” you press, your voice low and solid, “and you don’t have another comforter.”
“How do you know that.”
Lucky guess. “I just do.” Just let me have this without having to ask for it.
I am a little afraid, I don’t know of what, and you’re the last solid thing I can grab onto.
Or lay next to.
“What side of the bed do you sleep on?”
“All of it.” God, he’s so obstinate.
“Pick a favorite.”
His mouth–his mouth–scrunches up the way a shitting cat’s might. You puncture the silence with a visible shiver. This staredown is horrible.
“Fuck. Fine.” Point to Lacy. Eddie, arms out, gestures to the side of the bed furthest from the door. “Get comfy.”
In a scramble, you dig yourself under the comforter, pulling it all the way up to your chin. But now the shivering has started, and there’s no sign of stopping it– real, muscle seizing, teeth-chattering shivering.
Eddie mumbles something like Jesus Christ, or God help me or some other plea for mercy, and slides in beside you, pitching himself at the very edge of the mattress. Arms folded over his chest.
“You gotta quit shaking!” he hisses.
“I am fuh-reezing!” you seethe back.
You kick your knees up into your arms, facing away from him and curling yourself in the tightest of balls and really, really working hard on calming down your wracking because, honestly? Little embarrassing.
The mattress crreeaaaks. A shift in weight.
“Are you really that cold?”
You put that shaking to good use and nod in the affirmative. “Ice princess, right?”
Like you were putting this on for show. God, he’s such an asshole.
The way he gulps is borderline cartoonish. “Okay.” A shaky breath. “But we have to not make this weird.”
The mattress shifts again and you feel his weight edge closer to you. You relax a little from the fetal position, head craning to peer over your shoulder. He was– hovering, as much as one could hover when lying in a horizontal position.
“Munson, are you trying to cu–”
“Stop it. Stop making it weird. I’ll throw your ass out that window and it’s a cold snap and you’re already cold blooded so you’ll, like, double fucking freeze to death.”
But he wouldn’t. Of that you were fairly confident.
Eddie’s hand edges toward your waist, positioning his front side ever closer to your back, which feels… not horrible at all, until–
“No. Nope. That’s not gonna work.”
You have to bite back a smile. Boys. Boys and their stupid, simple penises.
He flops back against the mattress, head angled to the ceiling. Awkwardly, he jigs an arm up, like some puppeteer’s yanking his string. His hand hits you square in the back of the head.
“Ow–”
“Shut up. Get under here.”
Slowly, and almost shyly, you rotate your shivering body a cool one-eighty degrees and find him concentrating resolutely on the ceiling. You glance up. There’s black mold on that ceiling. You wish you had noticed that before, but when up shit creek, et cetera. Inching and inching, you settle in next to him, head nestling into his armpit.
His arm gingerly curves around you.
You bring your hands up to your mouth, fingers curled in fists like a little kid.
Your leg brushes against his, accidentally, racking up the leg of his flannel pants. You can feel the hair against your bare calf– strong, ticklish.
And you can hear his heart.
Jackrabbity. Thu-thump-thu-thump-thu-thump.
So’s yours.
He is so warm.
“Hey,” he whispers, tone a little softer this go around, “Can I ask you something?”
You do a tiny swallow and hope it’s not obvious. “I guess.”
“... Does it stink down there?”
Eddie Munson smells like cigarette and soap and that warm smell from the dryer. You inhale and hope it’s not obvious.
“Yes. You’re ripe. It’s disgusting.”
“Good. ‘night, Lacy.”
“Goodnight, Eddie.”
–
Eddie wakes up with a painful inhale and two of his rings tangled in your hair.
Shit! Fucking shit! See, he was supposed to stay awake, stay alert, make sure Wayne didn’t like, suddenly develop a tendency to sleepwalk and stumble into his room while you were all… curled up next to him. With your freezing little ice blocks for feet. And your lashes fanned out across your cheeks. And your tiny little kitten snores, you goddamn bitch.
But for as freaked out as he was–and is, girl in his actual human bed and everything–Eddie started nodding off here and there. And suddenly, here and there became the morning sun beaming directly into his stinking retinas from a crack in the blinds.
He is now hyper-aware of your hand curled beneath his sternum and your boobs pressing against his side.
The following procedure needs to be handled delicately, like a bomb.
Because the other thing, among all the other other things, is Woody fuckin’ Woodpecker has come calling this morning too.
Now, blue sky situation, ideal world, you’d just be able to scoot that hand a little lower and help him out with such an issue. But since he blew any shot of you wanting that along with any semblance of dignity he held in your eyes last night, that is a no-go.
He needs a Bible level miracle to will himself soft and untangle his rings from your hair without you waking up. And he also needs to wake you up and smuggle you the ever-loving fuck out of his trailer.
Careful, careful, careful– he starts picking strands out from around the silver, wondering how the hell he let himself just… tousle his hand around in your hair without, I’unno, getting turned into a pile of dust.
Then you make this noise– this little mewl, like mmnnrgh?, and Eddie’s entire body skips a beat. He needs to commit it to memory, record it to the ongoing multi-track mixtape he’s unconsciously been creating in his mind. Lacy’s Greatest Hits, featuring dick-in-fist chart toppers such as Who Died and Made You My Parole Officer?, Sorry, I Don’t Teach Remedial, and an eight hour loop of you saying his name. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.
He wants to pull you on top of him, rings-in-hair and all, and kiss all the broken little mmnnrgh?s out of you ‘til you don’t have the breath to make any more. ‘til all you’ve got is his name on your tongue, your Siberian cold hands under his shirt.
And if he keeps thinking thoughts like this, he’s gonna kill himself!
This is not helping. You are not helping.
With some absolutely saint-worthy maneuvering on his part, Eddie gets his fingers free of your hair, but it’s not the gentle tug that wakes you up–
It’s a certain eardrum-perforating WHOOP-WHOOP.
Eddie Munson never thought he’d see the day where he was thanking whoever down there that’s lookin’ out for him for the sound of a cop car. Instant boner killer.
But also–
“Issat-thefuckin’-cops?” you slur at an almost normal volume, rising from underneath Eddie’s arm.
He shushes you, all harsh and wiry and you’ve just woken up, bleary-eyed and not yet able to comprehend your surroundings. Which, boy howdy. He darts to the window like an animal alarmed, peering out through the blinds.
“Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”
“What’s happening?” you whisper-ask, slapping consciousness into yourself with a palm to either cheek.
“Lacy, on a scale from one to ten,” Eddie seethes, scanning his view from the window, “How likely is your mom to report you as a missing person in under 24 hours?”
Your stomach drops with an acidic, awful clunk. Going out and making a fool of us. Your mom, caring only when she absolutely has to.
“Eleven.”
Eddie turns his big, siren-eyed stare on you.
“Then we gotta get you outta here. Like. Yesterday.”
You, now, you’re at a total loss. A total loss that’s made your blood turn bad under your skin, a total loss that has made you want to strangle your own mother, but a total loss where it actually matters. “I can’t believe she’d–!”
“Don’t matter, sweetheart! Does noooot matter– this the first time you ever got the cops called on you or something?”
You blink, remembering red and blue lights outside of your house in Loch Nora. But that wasn’t for you. Technically. Figures why you suddenly feel morning-sick nauseous, though.
“Well, mazel tov,” Eddie says, misreading the memory and starting toward his door.
You scramble for him, tugging at him by the bottom of his t-shirt. “Where are you going?!”
“Running interference. We need a distraction,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Okay, sorry for not being an accomplished criminal.
“Interference. Yeah. You’re good at that.”
He hits you with a sneer. “Not my first rodeo. You post up by that window and watch– when the coast is clear, I’ll give you a signal.”
“And then what?”
“And then– and then what?!” Eddie gasps, totally incredulous that you’d even try to ask– to seek his guidance, or whatever, “And then you’re on your own, kid! I’m already about to throw a match into the powder keg of your stupid hot mom, I’m not gonna stick around to watch her blow up!”
A quiver escapes your pinched lips, one that nearly says don’t go.
You’ve been taking care of yourself for a long time. That’s not the problem. The problem is tasting what it’s like when somebody helps you and realizing you haven’t had your fill. That, and your mother’s wrath which is your father’s wrath if you blow your cover and word gets back that you were hanging out in Al Munson’s boy’s trailer.
Nuclear fallout. Worse than Eddie’s room.
Eddie notices that you’ve been quiet a half-beat too long– and not just because you are both pressed for time, he puts his hands on your shoulders. Reassuringly, hurriedly. He shakes you, pump-pump, snap out of it.
You’re still gripping the hem of his t-shirt.
“Hey.” His voice is quieter. “This is gonna be fine.”
“Before you go out there, I– I need to ask you something.” It’s all compulsion. Why are you helping me? Why are you being nice to me? I don’t deserve you being nice to me.
Do you regret not kissing me last night? Do you regret not doing it right now? What am I supposed to do if I regret it too?
“Lacy?”
“Did you fuck Cass Finnigan in the ass?” Oh, yeah, there it fucking is.
Complete bafflement. Eddie seems to completely short circuit, powering back to life with a groan. “Wh– how did you know that?”
You huff, because it’s all you can do.
“I’m the goddamn Oracle of Delphi.” Finally, your vice grip of his shirt loosens. “Well. Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Okay, insulting.
Eddie stalks out of the room, head reeling on several different strata levels. By someone’s infernal grace, Wayne has already left for the day–it’s 7AM; way to get a headfirst start on inconveniencing the boys in blue, Lacy’s mom–so Eddie has ample space to flail his arms around wildly, frustratedly, cursing himself out before grabbing his uncle’s insulated parka from the coat rack and heading out the front door.
“Officers,” he says, half-wishing the zip on the jacket would choke him out so he wouldn’t have to put himself in the line of fire like this, and for what. “What���s uuuup?”
“Perfect.” That clipped yap comes from behind a cloud of smoke, teeming out of your mother huffing back a Dunhill. “There’s the little curr himself. Ask him where my daughter is, why don’t you.”
Well, now Eddie sees where you get it from.
“Shouldn’t you be on your way to school, son?” one of the officers (Callahan, if Eddie’s last speeding-ticket-receiving memory serves) drawls, clearly not all too concerned with the happenings here. But, considering to your mom, who can resist a Blanche DuBois type in a crisis, right? Definitely runs in the family.
Eddie lets his tongue loll out in an exaggerated hack-cough. “Sick day.”
“Then you oughta be inside, right?” Cops, man. Our nation’s greatest thinkers.
“I would be,” he says, taking on the haughty tone of– well, of your mother, “was it not for that obnoxious weew-weew of yours rousing me from my sick bed.” He even clutches at the lapels of the coat, shivering for effect. That one’s for you, baby.
“And y’know what, while we’re on the subject of noise…” You weren’t wrong when you said that he’s good at running interference– because he’s good at being a nuisance. “I’ve been meaning to put a call into you guys. You guys, police guys.” Eddie moves to stand in the negative space between your trailers, however many feet it is.
“See how much distance it is from here–” he points to his trailer where, if you’re not totally fucking this up, you’re watching from the slits in the blinds of his bedroom, “--to here?” Other arm goes up. He’s standing there like Christ the freakin’ Redeemer, and the cops’ attention is pulled right to him because he’s got priors and he might do something weird and they’re idiots. Your mom is all about Eddie too, forgetting to be concerned and distraught for half a moment.
Munsons have that effect on people.
“... yeah?” Callahan says, prompting a wild-eyed Eddie to go on.
“I should not be there,” again, a nod to his own trailer, “and be able to hear Englebert Humperdinck from in here.” He waves a wild arm toward your trailer, edging a couple steps closer to it. Big ol’ brown eyes here locks his gaze on your momma. “Lady, that’s crazy. What are you doing playing ballads that loud?!”
Lacy Sr goldfishes back at him, mouth bobbing, presumably-last-night’s lipstick bleeding. Still so very hot.
“I mean, look, I get it, you’re writing a letter to daddy in jail–and that sucks, and if you need company, you know where to find me–but can’t you do it a little quieter?” Eddie says, a wholly believable impression of a flabbergasted man. The cops almost seem to buy it.
“I am not in there playing records–” “Right, you’re too busy letting your daughter go missing under your nose. Listen, ma’am, this might not be Loch Nora, but around here, we got respect for our neighbors!” Oh, he is a honey-glazed Christmas ham.
A honey-glazed Christmas ham that is advancing towards your trailer door and dragging the attention of the attending adults with him, indicating you with a subtle two-finger salute that you better get out of his.
You snap the blinds back into place. Motherfucking go time. Until you realize that you have no shoes to speak of, just your book bag and whatever’s left of your steely reserve. You’d tossed your sneakers into that bag with your sodden cheerleader get-up– where the hell was that now?
You shove on the sizes-too-big work boots by the door and make it happen.
Eddie’s out there just pantomiming like his life depends on it and you take the steps in front of his trailer two at a time, as silently as is humanly possible– and fuck, it’s cold out here, but the cold helps! The cold makes you faster, more decisive, more agile simply down to the fact that you need to get out of the fucking cold. Adrenaline is sparking off at the base of your throat, making you a little dizzy but a lot determined.
You catch Eddie’s eye as you sneak, sneak, sneak around the back of your trailer. He gives you a not entirely subtle thumbs up and yells, “Yes! Yes, I think it’s an issue pressing enough for the law, I am a goddamned high school senior! I can’t study if the dulcet tones of Paul Anka are breaking my focus every five minutes!”
“Thought it was Englebert Humperdinck?”
“She’s got a catalog of records on her like you wouldn’t believe!”
Then it’s just hands on the outside of the trailer, feeling around for like, a trap door, some loose paneling, anything.
“Oh, so we couldn’t have sprung for a model with a freaking back door?!” But a window is kind of like a back door, you realize, and you’re a goddamn cheerleader. You’ve got a core of steel.
A lot of elbow grease is required to slide open the window of your tiny living room, but by god do you crank that thing. Army rolling onto the couch and into a bunch of boxes of breakables–living mausoleum, great to see you again–you freeze. That’s a lot of clattering.
“Did you hear that?” Your mother’s voice.
“I’m shocked you can hear anything at the volume you’re playing those Rat Pack records, duchess.” Eddie. You choke out a silent laugh as you dash to your bedroom.’
Alright. Alright. I gotta make it look like I was up to something… First word that comes to mind? Slutty. Because that’ll make the police no longer give a shit what you were doing (she brought it on herself) and effectively redirect your mother’s rage.
Hands tear off the borrowed boxers and Stooges shirt and grab the first thing in your mess of half-unpacked clothes. A form-fitting jersey dress in dark blue, which you throw on without thinking of underwear. A calf-length pea coat on top of that. The nearest pair of loafers to go with. You’re not formulating this outfit, okay, but one cursory look in the mirror and it sure does scream walk of shame.
But at least it doesn’t scream walk of shame from trailer across the way.
Then, your front door creaks. “No, I know I heard something in here…”
Fuck! Fucking fucker! As delicately as humanly possible–so, not very–you ease yourself out of your own bedroom window, book bag in tow.
I’ve gotta make this look believable.
You land on the ground with a soft thump, mere feet from your front door. There, Eddie is holding up the rear of the party walking into your trailer. You, not a goddamned second to lose, break into a soft jog and do a fucking make-believe loop around Eddie’s place, heart hammering in your ears.
You, a professional in willing your own reality, call out a super convincing, “Mom?” as you approach your trailer from the opposite side.
As if you just got here.
“Lacy?!” she squawks, darting right back out from whence she came. She barrels past Eddie, the two Hawkins police officers following close behind.
“What is… going on?” you ask. Lying– you come by it natural.
“Where the hell have you been?!” your mom shrieks, and she would slap the shit out of you if she could. You see that much in her fiery eyes. “You know, I came home this morning to a key broken off in the lock of our door and you were nowhere to be found! Nowhere!”
You cannot help yourself, unable to stomach her self-righteous display of motherly concern. “So where the hell have you been ‘til this morning, Mom?”
Her mouth hardens into a line. Comin’ real close to getting backhanded in front of the cops.
“I came back after cheerleading last night,” you explain, eyes going all earnest and wide as you include the cops in your little spin– paying special attention to Callahan, because he’s not not a little cute, okay? “It was raining like crazy, and I was trying to unlock the door and–you know how that lock sticks, Mom–my key just broke off! In the door! I was like, gee, what do I do? And you weren’t home, Mom. And I had no idea how I could reach you. Mom.” The second she gets you alone, she’s going to strangle you. Worth it, for the look on her face. “So I went to a friend’s.”
Callahan seems to drink in your disheveled appearance. “A friend’s, huh?”
“Just a friend’s, Officer,” you simper, batting your eyelashes, trying to steam up the little piggy’s horn-rimmed glasses. “Promise.”
In the near background, Eddie Munson silently gags. You have to force the corners of your mouth down to keep from smiling.
“I’m so sorry to have wasted your time, gentlemen.” Your mom’s chipped manicure tightens around your bicep. “Get inside that house. Now.”
“Hardly a house. Doesn’t even have a goddamn back door.”
The cops give a good ol’ salute and get to getting, their quota for community service just about totalled for the day. Passing by Eddie on your way to the front door, your mom rolls her eyes. “Typical.”
Over your shoulder, you throw him a twisty little grimace. A mouthed thank you. Seriously.
“You ladies keep that racket down, now,” he calls and watches your mom muscle you past the doorway.
Slam goes the door, the trailer seeming to shudder with it. And then it’s quiet. Still. Eddie sighs out a big, cold lungful, his eyes trained on your front door. Without the immediate distraction of you, the memory of last night’s hushed and furrowed conversation with Wayne gathers over him like a stormcloud, heavy with thunder, pregnant with rain.
Your dad called.
Al Munson never calls. He just shows up. He never calls, unless he’s trying to take the temperature of a place. A place that’s recently been occupied by a family he had a significant part in completely blowing up– yours.
Eddie has… no idea what he’s supposed to do about that.
Because Eddie Munson deals in absolutes.
And he, unfortunately, evidently, obviously, absolutely cannot stay away from you now.
–
So following the events of that fateful Friday, you had no good goddamn idea how to behave. You spend the weekend without a single sighting of Eddie Munson, much to your confusing chagrin, and you really did try your very best to behave normally about this.
But for the first time in a long time, you were completely alone.
No chittering friends to distract you. No stilted lunches with your mother. No conversations into rusted handsets through shatterproof glass.
You drifted around town, retreading haunts that really should have elicited some kind of feeling in you. They used to, y’know, when you escaped the neon of Starcourt (before it burned down) for the mothball-scented stacks of the bookstore.
Which, fittingly enough, was just called The Bookstore. Way to establish a town-wide monopoly.
Toeing around the shelves, chipped nails clutching a Simone de Beauvoir book you’d already read but lost and didn’t exactly intend to buy, you willed yourself to give into the curse of familiarity. To woo yourself with recognizable surroundings. To pretend like your whole worldview wasn’t skewed by a Stooges t-shirt still lying under your pillow.
The boots, you’d left in an inconspicuous position by the front door.
The rest of it, though…
Consciously, you’re reaching into the shelves of the philosophy section, reorganizing the whole thing because they’ve completely blended the Eastern and Western flavors (and even have a little theology thrown in there, for Chrissake). Unconsciously, you’re thinking about how you’ve been wearing that Stooges shirt in some respect since Thursday. How Friday night found it rucked up around your breasts as you squirmed under the covers, two fingers in radial motion in your panties, muffling gasps into your shoulder. Thinking about him gripping you by the shoulders, leaning into you in the half-light, his hair fanned out on his pillow as his arm sloped around you. How Saturday found you with such white-hot shame that you couldn’t even think about him grinning at you without cringing. How Sunday, today, in the bookstore, finds you wearing it under your bottle green sweater.
You’ve lost your mind. Your entire mind. The Woman Destroyed, indeed.
So, maybe it’s better that you’re spending the weekend solo. But of course, the moment that thought occurs and you yank a copy of Fear and Trembling off the shelf, you’re looking down the barrel of something just awful.
Red-rimmed eyes, bucketing tears and sniffling, there’s goddamn Nancy Wheeler. Full on weeping, in your bookstore. What’s worse is, there’s no passing this off– there’s no pretending you never saw it, like you normally would, because she makes direct eye contact with you.
“Ohgh–!” is the noise she makes, a kind of snotted-up exclamation, a congested gasp of surprise at your own dissociative gaze intruding on her private moment.
God, you’re so tempted to just slam the Kierkegaard book back in place and high tail it out of the place.
But you don’t.
From your confessional box-esque view, you can see that weeping Wheeler is clutching a copy of Little Women.
“Don’t worry,” you murmur, the bookstore always making you take on a library-hush tone of voice “They don’t all die of scarlet fever.”
It catches Nancy off-guard; she lets loose a little heh-heh, despite her crumpled expression. “I know,” she says, voice all uneven from her tearfulness, “I’ve read it a million times.”
“Which part got you this go around?” you ask. “The book burning? Meg and that pitiful violet silk debacle? Jo’s sham marriage?”
“Jo doesn’t end up in a sham marriage,” Nancy spikes, wiping under her eyes with a delicate knuckle. You wish to god this girl would turn ugly just once. It’s sickening.
But you were right on this one, and you knew it. “Does so. She spends her whole life refuting the idea of getting all shacked up like Meg, only to settle down with a man, what, twice her age?”
“She loves him.”
“Does she? I mean, she loved Laurie too, in a way.”
“You think she should have ended up with Laurie.” Nancy says this to you in a way that’s almost condescending. A tear drips off the tip of her perfect nose. Fucking joke.
“Don’t be so goddamned simplistic, Wheeler,” you sigh, rounding the sagging bookcase so you can meet her in her aisle. Because you’re right, and you’d like to be face-to-face when you tell her so. “Jo shouldn’t have ended up with anybody.”
Her brow crinkles. “That’s way too sad.”
“Really?” you scoff. You’d have expected Nancy Wheeler to cop to a narrative undertone a little better than that. “All Jo wants is freedom– to live as she pleases and write as she pleases. It’s totally diminutive to just marry her off in the end. Jo deserves to be alone. Make her life completely her own. She doesn’t need Friedrich, or Laurie. She’s enough– she’s Jo March, for Jesus’ sake.”
A seed in this triggers something in Nancy and lets out a big old yelping sob– one that makes Ivana, the take-no-shit owner of The Bookstore, lean over the counter and glower at them. Library hush, remember? You take a couple of steps forward, shielding Nancy from view.
“Okay, what did I do? What’s going on here?” you ask– you kind of hiss, actually.
“I’m sor– no, it’s nothing, it’s stupid!” she blubbers. “Just… God, they all get to be a lot sometimes, don’t they?”
And immediately, you know exactly what she’s talking about. Your friends. Your friends loved to shit on Nancy Wheeler, both to her face and behind her back– though it was more of the latter on this on-again phase of her and Steve’s rocky romance. Steve had shared some not-stern-enough (as far as you’re concerned) words with you guys, basically asking you to lay off Nance. Yes, she’s a nerd. Yes, she kind of thinks she’s better than you guys. Yes, she kind of can’t hang. But she’s Steve’s girl, and that’s what matters.
To her credit, she’s made an effort with you all this time, despite all the ribbing. Despite your pointed coldness toward her.
She doesn’t see kindness as a weakness. You do.
It occurs to you that you’re wrong.
“Tell me about it, sister,” you mutter, hugging de Beauvoir and Kierkegaard to your chest.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffs, meeting your achingly dry eyes with her big, sparkling wet ones. You hate a pretty crier. She looks like a fucking woodland creature. “For how they all treated you, I’m sorry. I should have said something.”
Ah, because you were victim to some not-so-sly digs too. Nancy was probably relieved the heat was off her for once.
“I believe that,” you say, and you do. She’s got no real good reason to lie to you, especially being that you’ve been such a pill the entire time you’ve known her. “But what did we expect, y’know. Lie down with dogs and all that shit.”
“Right,” she nods. Peers at the books in your hands. “That’s pretty… heavy stuff.”
“What, this?” you flash her the Kierkegaard, “Wait, shit, this isn’t Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas!”
Nancy laughs as high and clear as a bell, and you feel kind of… good about it. Proud of yourself. The sound dies between you, a touch of awkwardness coloring the moment.
“Listen. Nancy.” Your tone takes on a seriousness; this is advice you usually save for yourself, but… you don’t know. You’re feeling charitable. Inspired by recent events, maybe. “All of these people are bottoming out in the middle, okay? You don’t need to worry about them. Their relevance in your life is… fleeting, at best.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“Yes,” you tell her, and mean it, “Always have.”
“Didn’t always seem that way,” she says, a tilt to her head. Her bloodshot eyes are studying you. “You seemed pretty wrapped up in them, from what I saw.”
“I’m a chameleon, girl. I adapt to survive.”
“Is that how you feel about… all of them?” There’s weight behind that question. “Bottoming out in the middle?”
She means Steve. You can tell she’s also afraid that she thinks the same thing. Sweet, devastatingly handsome, unambitious Steve. Lionhearted, driven, stratospheric Nancy. She’s going places. He’s going to his shift at Family Video.
“You’re not ready to hear my thoughts on that,” you say, reaching for the book in her hand. Out comes your fountain pen and you’re scribbling in the inside cover. “But you should call me, when you are.”
“Okay, but— you know this means I have to buy this now,” Nancy chuckles.
Amateur.
“Not necessarily,” you say, taking a step closer and slyly slipping the book into the open tote she’s carrying. You pat the wide-eyed Wheeler on the shoulder.
“Sometimes the five finger discount chooses you.”
–
Monday morning finds Eddie Munson not just on time, but early for first period. He’s here before you are, sinking further and further into his seat as he anticipates your arrival. Of all the freakish things he’s done in his whole entire life, this behavior is the freakiest.
But he couldn’t help it. It was a weekend of strategically watching through the blinds so he could avoid you if you left the trailer, and sometimes catching you watching him back. Though, your blinds still aren’t fixed, so it’s not like there was some vice-versa catching going on. What? Shut up. It’s been a confusing forty-eight hours.
He’s slept so poorly that he’s actually hallucinated you in that cursed Stooges t-shirt a couple of times, pacing past your bedroom window.
These visions have led him to have quite the cramp in his dominant hand.
Which is not great, because he’s probably going to have to re-take this pop quiz that Kaminsky is apparently handing back today.
And a cherry on top of this weirdo shit cake is Ronnie Ecker is sitting diagonally across from him at the top of the classroom, looking all concerned and stuff.
He hasn’t told her anything. Not about you and your impromptu sleepover at the trailer, not about his dad’s looming and uncertain return, nothing.
He’d gone over to her place on Saturday to work out some kinks in some Hellfire stuff, but he’d spent most of the time standing in the middle of the living room, zoning out at the TV as an episode of Murder, She Wrote rolled on.
“Dude, what’s the fucking matter with you?”
“Wh– nothing! Angela Lansbury, man, she’s really. Uh. Magnetic.”
But as much as Ronnie had pressed, and she had pressed because she’s a presser, no juice was coming out of this little orange! No siree fuck. Eddie had done such a good and painful job of saying nothing that Ronnie had completely sold herself on the theory that the black mold in his bedroom had finally entered his brain.
Which, I mean, eventually it will, right.
Point is, Eddie is now shitting himself because he knows that the second you walk through that classroom door, it’s gonna be written all over his face. Maybe not in such excruciating detail as I helped her out of the rain and she put her head on my chest and she smoked a cigarette so pretty I almost died and we listened to my–our?!–favorite Tom Waits record and we almost kissed but I did technically sleep with her if you want to be super nit-picky about it, but. Ronnie’ll know something.
And Eddie has an idea how Ronnie will react– and it matters to him how Ronnie will react. Always has, always will. And she is going to beat him to death with her Trapper Keeper, probably, screaming bloody murder about what a moron he is for letting this happen.
But also, she might not. Because she’s always kind of admired you from a distance, too. She would kind of be all shy whenever she came out of a Biology class that you two shared. It was super weird, because Ronnie doesn’t do the crush thing.
Is this just the deadly nightshade effect you have on people, or what?
Fuckshit. Shitfuck. As if he willed your arrival into existence, there you are. Breezing through the door in some belted velvet getup, with your shiny little shoes. They’ve got ribbons attached, winding around your ankles like you’re a ballerina or some bullshit, a terrible, sultry ballerina with daggers for eyeballs that are aiming right at Eddie.
He diverts his interest to his textbook for the first time in his academic career.
And he prays, prays, that you still don’t want to acknowledge him in public– that you’ll just sit down in front of him and ignore him.
Somebody down there likes him.
You take your seat, leaning back further than you need to and flicking your hair all over his desk. It’s almost like every other Monday, but this time it feels pointed.
“Well,” Mr Kaminsky sighs, following you in the door and looking as bedraggled as ever. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”
He clicks open his briefcase, clearly imagining the silence in the classroom to be worth much more than it is. “Some of the worst quiz answers I’ve seen on record.”
Your hair smells familiar, Eddie thinks. Like a mixture of your rich, smoky floral perfume and his shampoo.
“That’s what you get for pulling a shittily written paragraph-answer pop quiz on a half-taught section, dumbass,” Eddie hears you mutter.
Kaminsky calls your name. “Something you wanna share with us?”
Eddie watches your shoulders stiffen. “We’re not even halfway through the section, Mr. K. How are we supposed to answer questions on something we haven’t been taught?”
“Hilarious, coming from you,” Kaminsky says, stabbing a finger in your direction, “because you’re one of the only aces.”
“Just because I passed doesn’t mean I agree with the way I was taught,” you level, and Eddie can see by the way your shoulder blades shift that you’re folding your arms. “I read ahead, anyway.”
“Great. You can continue that independent learning streak,” Kaminsky smirks, “in detention.”
“Oh, that is bullshit!”
Christ, Eddie wants to kiss you between those tense little shoulderblades. All the way down your spine.
“Yeah? Be my guest–Lacy? They call you Lacy, right?–and take two. Now, if there’s no more objections to my teaching methods? No?”
Thunk. A stack of papers lands on Ronnie Ecker’s desk. “As the only other person who scored a hundred and hasn’t given me any lip, go ahead and pass those back, Miss Ecker.”
Ronnie, god love her, does as she’s told. But not before doing a little rifling through the stack and scribbling something on one of the tests. The papers sail back through the classroom in a whirlwind of white, take one, pass it along.
You’ve got Eddie’s, and you hold it over your shoulder without so much as turning to look at him. Which is what he wanted, what he needs, sure, but what he actually wants is for you to accidentally graze his hand so he has an excuse to hold it and maybe eat it.
He snatches the test back, all nerves. Unsurprisingly, a big fat D for duuuuhhhh plants itself in red like an ugly lipstick kiss at the top of the page. Eh, at least it wasn’t an F. You take the victories where you can get ‘em these d–
All of a sudden, you’re snapping back around, grabbing Eddie’s paper back from his desk.
“Hey–!” he hisses, almost knocked unconscious by another bloom of your perfume. “What’re you doing!”
You, again, do not even deign to look back. You just stretch a single index finger back in his general direction– a Lacy-coded sign to fuck off, I’m busy. You hunch over the paper for the remainder of class, seemingly checking and re-checking and going at it with your precious fountain pen.
He spends the next forty minutes in a cold sweat, mind racing, until the bell finally rings.
Then it’s a dash, with Eddie trying to grab you and you heading straight for Kaminsky and the both of you just slamming into his desk.
What in the everloving fuck could she be doing now?
“This is a C grade,” you state, plain and simple. Kaminsky just flops his khaki-wearing ass into his chair.
“What are you talking about?”
“Eddie’s test. You mis-graded him.” Wait, this is– is she helping me? “You docked him points here, here and here when the answers were perfectly fine.”
“I think I know how to grade a test, Lacy. I’ve been doing this, for a job mind you, since before you were even a twinkle in your convict father’s eye.” Woah, Kaminsky. Straight for the jugular.
But then Eddie notices you seize in the tiniest of flinches and decides he kind of wants to punch out this teacher. “Look, hold up, we don’t–”
“Fine. Compare it with mine.” You smack your test paper, with its circled red A, on the desk next to Eddie’s. He squints, and he recognizes it, because he’d recognize Ronnie Ecker’s handwriting anywhere– up top of your sheet, scribbled, HARD AGREE– TOTAL BULLSHIT. “They’re basically the same answers. I mean, same content, same major point– the sentence structure leaves a little to be desired, but he’s got the right idea.”
Snared.
“Wait, really?” Eddie’s eyebrows raise. Okay, even he didn’t know that. He barely remembers even taking this test. He can’t be sure he didn’t cheat, but he’s not about to mention that now…
You look at him, right at him, for the first time today. And shrug, with your one little shoulder, like you love to do when you’re too cool to speak.
“And you give a shit… why?” Kaminsky says, asking the question we’re all pondering.
“Peer tutoring,” you tell him, enunciating those words like you’ve taken elocution lessons. You could’ve. You’re, apparently, full of surprises. “I’m rehabilitating my image.”
Kaminsky is going red, red, and redder under that collar.
“Which is why I won’t be able to make it to detention. Either of ‘em.”
“Now, you listen to me, you little hoity-toity madam–” the older man says, shooting out of his chair to lean almost nose-to-nose with you. Eddie reaches a hand out, to either pull you back or slap this dude, but you sense it coming. Push it away. Ow.
“Mr Kaminsky,” you say, all mock gasp, “What is Ms Kelley gonna say when I tell her that you’re getting in the way of me enriching my fellow students’ academic experience? Is that really the kind of environment we want to foster here at Hawkins High?”
You hit the teacher with a sneer of a pout, boxing him right down to size. And Kaminsky actually retreats, like physically backs off.
“Fine. Fine.” The teacher grabs a red marker from the cup on his desk, harshly scribbling on the ‘D’ on Eddie’s test and marking up the whole paper with a massive fuck-you ‘C’. “Best of luck with that rehabilitation, Lacy. If this is the company you’re keeping, you’re gonna need it.”
“Neato threat, real original!” you chirp, and it’s all venom in those vowels as you gather the tests back, “Knew you’d see the light, Mr K.”
Eddie, of course, follows your hard little steps out of the room like a loyal mutt. But not before he turns and aims a whaddaya gonna do! flavored shrug at Kaminsky. “Go Tigers?”
“What?” In the hallway, he struggles to keep up with you in a sea of jostling students. “And how?” Dodging a backpack. “And–” Marry me? Tripping a freshman. “Gareth! Watch where you’re going, man!”
“Kaminsky wants to play hide the klobása with Kelley.”
“The what?”
“Czech sausage. He’s Czech– Christ. He wants to bang her.”
“Oh.” Get in line, my man. He watches you twist your combination lock with a grace that’s frankly unnecessary. He’s fidgeting where he stands. So much for avoiding you, but he was doomed from the start in that regard. “That was– woah, back there. Like, I think you might have just single handedly raised my GPA.”
“Good. So we’re square. Indy County Tech Center, here you come.” You deposit your books, grab some more, and flick his newly-graded test at him so that he has to catch it in midair. Then, a slam! of your locker door and you’re gone, making tracks down the hallway in your little ballerina shoes.
“Lacy– Lacy, wait up.” Eddie finally falls in step with you, following wherever you’re going. “I’m feeling some hostility here.”
“Wow, point to Munson. How perceptive,” you snit, not meeting his eyes.
“Are you mad at me?”
“How could I be mad at you? I don’t even know you.”
“Lacy, don’t be a bi–”
That makes you stop dead, stabbing a finger in the air near his chest.
“Do not fucking call me a bitch.” You mean it. God, but you mean it, and he can see it; you’re about to boil over, just about holding it together. Your big eyes flutter at him and he feels like he doesn’t have kneecaps. You suck in a jagged breath, hard expression faltering. “I feel like an idiot. If you really wanna know. I thought–...”
“You thought what?” he asks, and he kind of knows, but he also thinks that might be blowing shit way out of proportion. You look down, tugging a piece of lint from your sleeve. Eddie verbally nudges at you, because if he touches you, he might a) crumble or b) be on the receiving end of some blunt-force trauma. That binder you’re holding is huge. “Lacy. You thought what?”
“I just–... You ignored me all weekend,” you say in this little mouse voice he was not expecting to come from you. Except, he had heard it before. I’m cold.
But so what? She’s– she’s always cold.
“And? You’ve ignored me, like, my whole life.”
“I know that, but…” This is difficult for you to choke out. Bodies pass into classrooms behind you and soon enough, you two are alone in the hallway. Again. But there’s no sniping, no snarling, no cur-like behavior with your teeth exposed. “I didn’t hate being in your trailer.” Oh my god. Oh my god. “Hanging… out with you, I didn’t–” Holy shit. Eddie does not know where to look, what to feel, what to think, what to do. And he shows it as much, kind of just gap-mouthed staring at you, willing himself to say something smooth– or at least nice. But when you glance back up at him, finally, it’s a look of defeat.
“Look, whatever. Congrats on your C. We’re even. So you can forget it.” And you move around him, ducking through the door of AP French.
Not you can forget it, like in your dreams, Munson, but you can forget it like it was right there and you blew it, buddy.
The classroom door clicks closed and Eddie bends at the midriff, feeling like he’s been stabbed.
–
You felt like you were trying to digest a rock until the final bell rang– though, c’mon, you didn’t know what you could have possibly expected. Eddie Munson is Eddie Munson, and you’re you. And you’d thought it yourself, it was an instance of temporary insanity. Dawn broke, the harsh light of day illuminating all the reasons why you two being anything less than contentious semi-strangers was a logical impossibility.
So what if you wanted to kiss him. You’ve wanted to kiss a lot of people and haven't done it. It hadn’t killed you.
However, it hadn’t gnawed at you like this either.
Nancy Wheeler called, by the way, which means she stole that book off the back of your advice–that, or paid for it once you left the store, a flurry of charming apologies fluttering around her head like Snow White’s attendant birds. Typical. But she’d called, and you two had had an awkward forty five second conversation where she asked you if you’d mind awfully if you looked over her latest piece for the Streak.
Something about spotlighting female business owners in Hawkins.
“Coffee’s on me!” she’d said brightly, so super-duper keen. You all-of-a-sudden hated to put a damper on her, so you said sure.
“But I’ll be uncompromising. I want you to know that.”
“Of course. That’s why I asked you.”
It occurred to you then that Nancy Wheeler, in her way, might actually look up to you.
How fucking weird.
And sure enough, there she was, waiting for you in the parking lot once you gathered all your stuff from your locker. She leans against her car, wearing a corduroy skirt and a sweater that you don’t even really hate, and throws you a casual wave. The thing about Nancy and her consistent commitment to kindness toward you was she wasn’t even asinine about it– she never chased you around the playground, begging you to put on her friendship bracelet. If she did, you could actually hate her. Hate her for being cloying and desperate. You could call her all the shitty words for saccharine in the book and feel justified.
But that is, regrettably, not the case.
You almost say something like, Thank god your car is out of the shop, I’m sick to death of walking in these shoes, before you remember you made up that thing about Nancy’s car being in the shop. In order to skip class with Eddie Munson.
And just as you’re crossing the lot to her wood-paneled station wagon (family car, you’re guessing?), that very same Eddie Munson skids directly into your path. Like, gasping for breath.
“You di–huhh, you didn’t hear me calling you?” he says, straining against his lung capacity.
“Jesus!” you jump, “No!”
You really didn’t. You must have rage-tuned him out.
“Oh, right. Oh, fuck, you walk so fast. Gimme a second here,” Eddie wheezes, hands on his knees. “You– you want a ride home?”
You look over his shoulder to a very perplexed looking Nancy Wheeler and find yourself fighting a smile. Motioning for her to wait a sec, you turn back to Eddie. “I’m good. I got a thing with Wheeler.”
“Wheeler the priss?”
“And Lacy the bitch,” you remind him of that epithet he’d pinned on you like a corsage.
He clocks it and grins. Eddie’s grin lands like a dollop of cream in your otherwise shitty coffee. You do not like this about him. At least, not right now.
“The dynamic duo.”
“Yeah, we’re gonna go solve crimes,” you roll your eyes, kind of over the whole bit already, “You’re making us late. What do you want, Munson?”
Eddie holds up a ringed finger, uno momento por favor, and digs around in his pockets. Candy and gum wrappers and an old, crushed cigarette soft pack all fall out during his cavity search until finally, he produces a crumpled piece of bright yellow paper and thrusts it toward you.
“It’s no Harrington kegger, but you are cordially invited.”
It’s a flyer. Corroded Coffin, Live at– Oh. Oh. It’s been painstakingly hand-doodled and photocopied, the pencil marks where mistakes have been erased still visible on the print.
This is his band.
You, in only the way you can, study it with a quirked brow– a look of dismissal, one might even say. Your eyes slowly raise to meet Eddie’s, who looks as if he’s about to start hopping from foot to foot, there’s so much nervous energy thrumming under his leather jacket.
Fwump. You palm the flyer into his chest. You nearly feel the physical sensation of his heart sinking.
Then, you pluck your fountain pen from thin air, uncapping it with your teeth.
“There’s an ‘e’ in Roane County, dumbass.”
With the delicate nib, you scratch the letter onto the misspelled place name, using his chest as an upright writing desk. You can actually feel his breathing becoming all uneven. His grin rounds out its corners and becomes a smile, and you can tell the difference between those two expressions now, apparently.
“Does that mean you’ll come?”
“That means I know where it is,” you say, capping your pen and leaving him clutching the flyer to his chest.
“Friday! Ten PM!” Eddie yells after you, hand cupped around his mouth. “Roane County Quarry! With an ‘e’!”
Nancy meets you with a look of total bemusement as you finally tug open the passenger door of your car. She watches Eddie watch you, almost tripping over his Reeboks as he walks backwards toward his beat up van. And you read every inch of the look she’s giving you.
“He is my neighbor, Wheeler.”
“Yeah! He seems like a… super nice neighbor. Really friendly.”
“So not ready to talk about that yet,” you mutter, beating back a blush that’s threatening to color your cheeks.
Nancy giggles– bubbly like phosphate, friendly-teasing, not pointed, not mean. Weird feeling. She turns her keys in the ignition. “But when you are, will you call me?”
–
You’d swear Corroded Coffin were about to be on the cover of Circus, the way Eddie has been… well, Eddie-ing out at rehearsal all week. He’s thrown not one, but two temper tantrums about the boys not sounding tight enough (“We need this clown car tight, you clowns!”) and has received not one, not two, but three perfectly aimed drumsticks to the head, courtesy of Ronnie Ecker.
The third one was just target practice, but he earned the other two.
“What has crawled up your ass, dude?” Jeff, a sophomore that can admittedly out play every single one of them in bass and every other instrument, demands.
“I bet I know what crawled up his ass,” Ronnie glowers from behind her snares, “Or should I say who.”
Now, Ronnie hadn’t witnessed Eddie giving you that flyer, or your copyediting work on it, but she had that preternatural thing where she could feel it when Eddie was out and about doing some dumb stupid dumbass bullshit. Like those dogs that can detect earthquakes. She’s full time on the beat detecting earthquakes.
“Cool it, Jessica Fletcher.” Maybe Angela Lansbury really did do a number on him. “I quite simply want us to sound good, for once. Not Hideout good– good-good. The Quarry is a big deal! Like, a literal big cavernous deal. You want a dry run for the Garden? This is our shot, maestros.”
“Are you seriously comparing Roane County Quarry to Madison Square Garden?” Cyrus, their second guitarist and first-rate vocalist, says with narrowed eyes. “Something did crawl up your ass.”
“And die,” Ronnie agrees.
“And now the death stench is in your brain,” Cyrus adds.
“And the stench has turned toxic.”
“And the toxicity is killing off your brain cells one by one by one.”
“And we’re gonna get on stage at the Quarry, and your head is gonna explode–”
“Just like Scanners,” Cyrus and Ronnie finish in such an eerie unison that it actually raises goosebumps on Eddie’s arms.
“Fuck, are they serious?” sweet, gentle, naive Jeff asks, brown eyes flared in alarm. Something about being a child prodigy in one arena makes you so desperately gullible in everything else.
“No!” Eddie barks. “We just– we’ve gotta be good.”
Because what would Lacy say about what Robert Christgau would say about us?
Something cutting like a scythe, brilliant like a diamond.
But for your part, you don’t know much about metal.
I mean, you’ve got a vague familiarity with the genre– you’ve got a subscription to Rolling Stone and Creem (RIP), for god’s sake. The roots were far more accessible to you as a whole; ‘Smoke on the Water’ by Deep Purple has the kind of intro you can paint your nails to, for example, and ‘Immigrant Song’ by Led Zeppelin feels like hotwiring Billy Hargrove’s car and driving it over a cliff (in a good way).
The absolute thrash of it all, though? Your one musical blindspot. And you weren’t quite sure how keen you were to lift the veil on it
Regardless, you decided you were going. You were going to show up at Roane County Quarry, ‘e’ included, and dip your toe into the kind of lawfully insouciant scene you’d always fantasized about, ever since you read your first Kerouac.
Granted, the metalhead-and-allied contingent of Hawkins weren’t exactly the Beat poetry set, but you doubted they’d be boring. You imagined a lot of leather incorporated into the outfits. At least one of them would have a switchblade. Maybe there’d be a Hells Angel there.
The only way to know is to go.
Something Eddie possibly failed to consider, being that he has molten lava in place of a bloodstream, is that it is positively arctic on this fateful Friday night. So sub-polar is the goddamned weather that you have to dig out your warmest coat.
Your warmest coat isn’t exactly the desired attire for a thrash rock show happening in a quarry.
“What the hell is she wearing?” come the murmurs as you slip your way through the modest (but gathering?) crowd, all finding heat around fires set in trashcans and mouthfuls sunk from bottles in brown paper bags. Girls with hair so gelled and spiked and backcombed that it looks sharp and flammable give you dirty looks, and the looks their boyfriends give you are even dirtier– and not even in that way! Misogyny in rock and roll, alive and fucking well!
You spot Eddie Munson in the near distance and bend down, grab a pebble, and pelt it at his denim-and-leather clad back. He spins, alarmed, on alert, and does a bad job of dimming how he lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree when he sees who’s launching projectiles at him. You. He’s all lit up, looking at you.
You glance away. Like, yes. The miracle has arrived. Calm down.
Then his face falls a teensy bit.
“What–”
“If you ask me what I’m wearing, I’m going to scream,” you say, crossing your fuzzy arms over your fuzzy chest. “And we’re in a quarry. Sound carries.”
Eddie reaches out, hand all gnarled like Dracula or something, and pets you on the arm of your coat.
“Guys, get over here.”
“No–” you start, but all of a sudden, all four members of Corroded Coffin are taking turns stroking the arm of your fur coat. “Stop that. It bites.”
“Eddie, can you confirm or deny that it bites?” Ronnie Ecker says in a tone you’ve never heard Ronnie Ecker use before– knowing, biting, a little nasty. You’re not sure whether or not to be offended by that, but… you like this look on her.
Or maybe you just like when anyone gives Eddie Munson shit.
“He’s never had the privilege,” you say and shoot Ronnie a sly look. Just to test the waters. She blushes. Point to Lacy.
“Alright, let me go ahead and nip this in the bud before it begins,” Eddie cuts in, manually removing Ronnie’s petting hand from your upper arm. He flourishes a hand out in front of you, a half-bow, a consummate dork. “We’re almost on. May I escort you to your seat, m’lady?”
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, committed to the contrarian bit for the time being, but let him lead you all the same. “They reserve seating in this ditch?”
“Not for everybody!”
“Why am I getting special treatment?” You don’t know what answer you’re expecting to that question.
“Lacy,” Eddie levels, stopping dead at his van and looking you dead in your face, “you wore a mink coat to a metal show. You’re not a VIP, you’re a liability.”
“What, dead animals aren’t hardcore enough for you people anymore?” you drawl as he props open the passenger door of the van. You take his hand, as you’ve taken his hand a handful of times now, in a way where it’s almost ordinary. But then, halfway in and halfway out of the van, you pause.
“Oh, no. This just won’t do.”
“Whaddaya mean?” Eddie mumbles.
“Well, I’m not gonna be able to see shit from here.”
“Where do you–”
“I’m getting on the roof, asshole.”
You slam the door on him, rolling down the passenger window. All hands and swinging limbs, careful not to snag your tights on the peeling paintwork, you clamber out the window and up onto the roof of his van. Settling your ass down, crossing your legs over his windshield, you flash him one of those winning smiles. He smiles back.
There’s a buzzing in your stomach. It’s not from the flask of whiskey you’ve been sipping from, but you’re willing to lie.
“Cheerleader,” he teases.
“Break a leg, Munson,” you say, cheersing that aforementioned flask to him. “Snap it clean off for me.”
There’s not a whole lot of pre-show faffing about (you didn’t time your entrance to hang around) before Corroded Coffin takes the stage. And god, the sound is horrendous. You can barely hear the banter up top (winning, you’re sure) from the band’s frontman– which, to your shock and awe, is not Eddie. It’s a fellow senior named Cyrus Painter (great name, by the way), who you vaguely recognize from Math and from the Hellfire table you crashed that one time. He doesn’t seem to hold much of a stage presence beyond glowering and muttering darkly into a microphone that’s barely picking up his voice, but all importance of that seems to go right out the window as soon as they hit the opening chords of their first song. You think it might be called ‘Whiplash’.
And it’s good.
It’s almost perverse, how technically accomplished it is– like, high school bands should not be this technically accomplished, but then you twig that Ronnie is in band. Like, the marching band. And so is that other kid on the bass, the one who they featured in the Streak for winning a bunch of teen virtuoso awards. Cyrus carries the song with the beautiful grace of a wrecking ball, but–and you might be biased–the one that’s putting the texture on this whole operation is the lead guitarist.
Eddie’s not in band. Eddie’s not technically perfect. But it’s Eddie that’s throwing shots of gasoline down the hatch of this fire-breathing dragon. This would be way too neat of an outfit if it wasn’t for him, fingers flying so fast over his fretboard that he barely touches it, scuzzing up the surrounds of the thrash metal with an almost bluesy warmth.
Warmth. Of course it’s warmth. Of course it’s searing fingers and sweat you can almost see teeming from underneath his bandana, even in the sub-zero temperatures. It’s Eddie, throwing his whole self into this.
A shot of pure admiration followed by a twinge of envy.
You wonder how he does that.
The song concludes, barely leaving time for whoops and applause before they launch into another. They’re laser-focused, locked in like Chrissy Cunningham in that goddamn basket toss, and you kind of get it. It’s not for you, but you kind of get it. This is sword swinging fucking music, slay the monster fucking music.
Dungeons and Dragons fucking music.
It’s all build, all fantasy, all story, all rage and rush and ravenousness. And before you know it, it’s all over, and you’re applauding– applauding more reservedly than you feel you want to.
“I’m comin’ up there!” There is Eddie, who’s apparently made a beeline from the milkcrate stage to his van, under the pretense of loading equipment. Which he’s managed to do in what seems like thirty seconds flat.
A gas lamp of eagerness and pure energy, he’s blazing bright and clumsily hoisting his way onto the roof to sit with you– he doesn’t have your muscular strength, so he has to kind of swing a leg and roll his way up there, almost knocking you over.
“Woah!” you giggle as he collides with you, reaching for your flask with a gimme that. He hoists himself up next to you, tugging off his bandana and running a hand through the flattened waves to give them a little oomph again. But Eddie right now, he’s all oomph.
“So,” he nudges you, eyes gleaming, “Don’t leave me in suspense, Lester Bangs. Whatdja think?”
You screw your lips up, sigh hard through your nose. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Munson…”
“Hmm?”
“...but it didn’t suck.”
“Really?” Eddie’s eyes gleam, like you just scored him that ‘C’ grade all over again.
“Re–ally,” you nod, pulling the flask from him, “I mean, Ronnie? She’s fucking John Bonham.”
“I keep telling her that.”
“And that kid on the bass–?”
“Jeff.”
“Jeeeeff. Him and Cyrus, right? Dead set on a Pulitzer.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
You let the trepidation hang between you for a beat or two, letting Eddie’s eyes search your face with a big fat uuummm? Hello? as you take an achingly long pull of that whiskey.
“Am I forgetting somebody?” you murmur.
“Oh, fuck you!” he barks through a laugh. You’re both shoulder to shoulder, his breath blowing warmth onto your cheek because of how far his voice projects. “C’mon, Lacy. I can take it.”
“Can you?”
“Don’t tease me, ice princess.”
“‘Don’t freeze me’, you mean.”
“Dammit.”
“Gotta be quick on that trigger.”
“I know.”
“Like you are on that fretboard,” you finally hand it to him. “I mean, shit, Munson.”
“Really?” he says again; he is beaming, glowing from the inside out. He’s radioactive, this kid. You cannot, cannot, cannot stop looking at him. “Really shit, Munson?”
“Really shit Munson!” you exclaim, a little louder than intended–blame the whiskey. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”
“Who, me?” Eddie shrugs, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m a self-made man, baby.” You think, for a second that he might try and pull that corny movie theater move where the boy stretches only to drape his arm over the girl’s shoulder– and you’re half-relieved, half-disappointed when he doesn’t.
“Incredible,” you say, when you could’ve said bullshit.
That makes him… almost shy. He glances away from you for the first time since he’s sat up here. “Yeah, well. Gotta while away the hours somehow.”
“Can I ask you something?” It flies out of your mouth before you have a chance to stop it.
“If it’s about what I was doing out at that crossroads with my guitar, then no.”
“Can we be friends?” It’s nearly medical, the way you ask him. Like you’re verifying symptoms. And he’s taken aback– maybe it’s how straightforward you are about it, or maybe it’s the weird, tender lilt to your tone. Eddie blinks.
“... do you mean right here right now friends or actually acknowledge each other in the hallway friends.”
“I mean full time at your lunch table friends,” you say. Suddenly, your throat is very dry. “You can even carry my books if you want to.”
Eddie’s eyes narrow, and his voice seems to narrow with them. “I don’t know. Sitting with us sorta requires that you join Hellfire…”
“Friends need boundaries, Eddie.”
“Price of admission, babydoll.” The way he rolls his head over his shoulder is… shut up.
You pause, honestly kind of mulling it over.
Eddie hitches himself a little upright, a lightning flash of concern dashing across his face. “I”m fucking with you. Yes, we can be friends…” he breathes out a laugh, washing you over with that studying look again, ”What a weird way to ask.”
“But weird good, no?” you say, and you say it all bright and searching– like you’re looking for his approval.
Eddie, with his hand braced against the roof of the van, directly behind your back, leans in so that his chin is resting on your mink-covered shoulder. He looks up at you, revved up on post-show adrenaline and a little of your whiskey. It is now, you realize, a little hard to breathe. Eddie Munson smells like cigarettes and soap and garbage can fire and sweat and rock and roll.
“Weird like you’re a weirdo, Lacy,” he hums, “And I aaalways knew it.”
Bangbangbang! The sound of Ronnie Ecker’s balled up fist on the side of the van makes you both nearly jump out of your skin, two skeletons too close for comfort.
“Guys, I hate to break up–whatever the hell, but I’ve still got a curfew!” she yells. “And my Granny’s got a gun!”
You and Eddie, you and your friend Eddie, look at each other and burst into nose-first laughter, snorting away. Giddy, giggly, stupid. And the funniest part is, you really think you’ve killed it.
By saying let’s be buddies!, you think you’ve put a stake right into the pitter-pattering heart of the nebulous other feelings you find yourself feeling when you look in Eddie’s eyes, at his lashes, at his hands, at his neck.
For a clever girl, you are so, so stupid.
author's notes: here we here we here we fucking go! i'll admit i'm a little delirious writing this because it's REDACTED past REDACTED but i needed to get this up and outta me. and also because y'all deserve it, being so supportive and nice to me AGAIN. i can't get over youse. dyou wanna get married - bildoolpoolp, a real goddess from dnd! her areas of control are darkness, insanity and revenge to which i say: lacy that u? - virginia woolf doll came to me in a dream and then i found this article about a virginia woolf doll. all i want for christmas? virginia woolf doll. stones in pockets not included - rita hayworth, always decent - got me feeling like miss tayla the way i'm burying meaning in eddie's dialogue! - the oracle of delphi, one of our baddest bitches on record - calling lacy's mom a blanche dubois type was admittedly shady of me but... if the shoe fits. - i'm zeroing in on officer callahan based almost solely on how much joy i get from watching him in search party, a show about terrible awful millennials that takes a turn you'd never see coming! THIS IS A FORMAL REQUEST FOR YOU TO WATCH SEARCH PARTY - in case you wanted a visual for the stooges t-shirt eddie gave lacy - LITTLE WOMEN ALIGNMENTS AS I SEE THEM: nancy is a stone cold jo march with a touch of beth around the ears, lacy is amy sun amy moon jo rising, EDDIE IS AN AMY, steve is a meg sun amy moon - also jo march is a lesbian and if you really want to talk about it, trans. i'm not citing a source for this i don't need to - jessica fletcher you beautiful bitch - y'all remember ms kelley, the hot guidance counsellor? right???? - nancy the priss and lacy the bitch-- make us solve crimes! - the missing 'e' in the corroded coffin flyer is a real fucking thing from that hawkins memories box you can buy. i love that boy and he can't spell and i want it framed. - circus, a rock magazine that was neck and neck in notoriety with rolling stone. here's ozzy on the cover in a tutu! - scanners is a perfect film from 1981 by my baby daddy david cronenberg! (cw for head explosion in the trailer) - listened to smoke on the water or immigrant song lately? no? well, we were all raised by school of rock so fix that - alright so the corroded coffin lineup of it all. i've long held the belief that eddie is in fact not the vocalist but is, on charisma alone, the de facto frontman (think russell hammond in almost famous). cyrus is named for the mountain goats song the best ever death metal band in denton which makes me cry if i think about the freaks in corroded coffin being the best ever death metal band out of hawkins! when you punish a person for dreaming his dream, don't expect him to thank or forgive you! they will both outpace and outlive you! - lester bangs! i did another almost famous/real life reference :( which is also a deep cut lacy reference that may or may not be explained - john bonham died! thaaaaaat's all for this round, folks. thanks again for sticking with me, likes and reblogs and comments are always so appreciated and who knows if i'll write even more next time! COZ I SURE FUCKING DON'T!!!! okay love u hellcats x
#published by powder#hellfire & ice#in progress#e. munson by powder#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson fic#stranger things fic#eddie munson smut#do not come for me if this is not fully proofread okay..... even saints are fallible bitch....
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Sunlight.
An Eddie x Vampire!Gender Neutral!Reader fic that i've been dreaming about for a few weeks.
Summary: After a long day of dealing with the leftover monsters Vecna felt behind after his defeat, Eddie comes back to his trailer hoping for some rest. A mischivious shadow comes knocking.
wc: 2.2k
cw: swearing (a lot) (sorry), mentions of food, mentions of knives and blades, Vamp has two descriptions (black nails, red eyes) but nothing other than that, very brief mentions of drugs. Mostly just humor and setting up for now
chapter one: A soul that's born in cold and rain knows sunlight
The night is dark. As it tends to be.
Something lingers in the air, a faint scent of iron, a chill… You know, normal autumn smells. Living in Hawkins for so long makes you familiar with it, no matter how much you hate it. Summer smells like dew, spring like pollen, so on and so forth.
Eddie likes the smell of Fall. It’s weirdly soothing, even as he walks back home after a long, long day of helping Dustin find a high enough place to set up Cerebro 2.0. So far, no such luck. Since the last one got destroyed, the range of the walkies is a fraction of what they need right now.
Maybe they’ll have better luck tomorrow.
The trailer is silent as he walks in, no sign of Wayne’s signature Dolly Parton tape playing, so he’s probably back at the shelter. Stubborn old man he is… But then again, so is Eddie. The plant was shut down weeks ago, and he still heads out every other night to help around.
After setting his jacket on the rickety chair next to the front door, kicking off his shoes and cutting off the guitar solo playing from his beat up Walkman, Eddie goes straight for the kitchen, the rumbling of his stomach stronger than the need to sleep. The fridge hums alive, flickering light warming up the room for a split second. Once the leftover spaghetti is in hands, he kicks it back closed, and the gentle humming is muffled by the beeping of the microwave.
Living in the so-called, “end of the world” isn’t nearly as exciting as Eddie thought it would be, in all his daydreaming in biology class.
“Beep! Beep! Beep!”
“Alright, I heard ya the first time.” He mumbles, getting up from his slacked position against the counter, but just in that split second— Something runs by his window. Darker than a shadow, and quicker too.
He freezes. Immediately. The microwave keeps beeping, but his eyes don’t move away from the tiny window, squashed between the top cupboard and the counter.
What in the lord’s name was that?
Demogorgon?
No. Too slim. Smaller.
Bat?
Also, probably not. It’d be screaming loud enough to wake up the entire trailer park, and they always travel in packs.
… Then what?
Eddie instinctively reaches for his walkie, walking backwards to the small folding table near the hallway without taking his eyes from that very same spot. After tattering around in the dark for a hot minute, the bulky, plastic case is in his hands, and he presses the talk button before it’s even within reach.
“Guys?” He mumbles, although all that answers is static. “Anyone home?? Over.” Still static.
Goddamn Cerebro.
“Piece of shit.” Eddie tosses the walkie-talkie on the kitchen counter, nervously pacing in place for a second before darting to the window on the other side of the trailer, all but jumping over the coffee table and peaking behind the curtains. The usually familiar sight of the trailer park makes his skin crawl tonight, the bright light of the full moon bringing little comfort when he sees there’s… Someone.
Standing there.
Looking at him.
He stumbles back in a hurry, practically falling on his ass. Looking at him, they were— They were looking at him, who the hell was that?!
The split second where he has to gather himself, pushing himself back to his feet, gives his frantic brain enough of a pause to think. ‘Jesus Christ, Munson, get a hold of yourself,’ the carpet feels cold under his bare feet, even as he reaches for the metal bat resting near the door. ‘You live in a trailer park, dude. It’s probably just Mr. Collins getting too high again and forgetting there are bloodthirsty monsters roaming around now.’
As long as it’s not another of those beasts, he’ll take his chances. The front door opens with an uncomfortably loud noise as he steps out, the grip on the bat tightening. It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.
He turns the corner…
There’s… No one there.
What?
Okay, now he feels he’s losing his mind.
Eddie walks carefully to the spot the shadow was standing, less than a minute ago. It— It was there. They. It? He’s starting to question if it was even a person in the first place. No one could’ve moved so quickly, so silently. He would’ve heard, there’s dozen of fallen leaves thrown around the yard. Where…
Something hits him on the back of the head.
“AH!” He swings the bat so hard it almost flies out of his hands, his eyes wide while they adjust to the dark. No one. What the fuck? “What the fuck?!”
Eddie looks around frantically. Something definitely hit him— light, right on the back of his head, like those annoying paper balls he got tortured by back in freshman year, the motivation behind him constantly sitting in the very last row since then. His foot hits something as he spins in place, and his eyes instinctively dart down. What he finds… Is a small pine cone.
“What…?” He mumbles, so painfully confused. How…
Someone chuckles.
His head snaps up, heart stuttering in his throat from fright. There’s no one there. Not that he can see, at least. He shifts on his feet again, looking over his shoulder— Just for another pine cone to come hurling, hitting his nape. “Ow! Hey!”
Another laugh, more muffled and barely contained. Whoever is chucking these is certainly having the time of their life.
A pinch of annoyance crawls up his chest. Without really thinking, he crouches, not breaking his gaze from the tree line, and once the damn cone is in his hands, he gets back up and chucks it. “Will you stop doing that?!”
A beat passes.
There’s a ruffling in the shrubbery, and Eddie’s grip on the bat tightens. Slowly, almost shyly, another pine cone rolls out from beneath a bush. It bounces once, a few of the seeds cracking, before landing between his feet again. His brows set into a confused frown.
“What…” He eyes the damn thing, then the shadows between the trees, then the cone again. When there isn’t any movement or suspicious giggling, he slowly moves down…
“Greetings.”
A shadow looms over him. Eclipsing the moonlight, covering his only light source. He looks up.
Bright, red, eyes look back at him.
Eddie thinks he might’ve died for a minute. His heart full on stops, the air in his lungs turning into an ice block from pure terror. Like a deer in the glare of the headlights about to be slaying by a terrible wolf, he freezes.
The shadow’s smile widens.
“Are you okay?”
Like a punch to the gut, everything comes back. Every nerve stands, blood rushing and his heart smashing against his rib cage. Eddie jumps, raising the bat with a swing Steve taught him, but it dodges so fast it’s like the metal passes right through it. That same chuckle rings through his ears, and he swings again, again—
Thunk!
Until it’s stopped, mid-motion. A hand grips it, tight, knuckles not even flinching when he tries to pull it back. But the shadow doesn’t tear it off his hands, simply holding it.
“Woah, careful with that,” The shadow mumbles, bringing his eyes up to it’s– their face. “You could poke someone’s eye out with that thing.”
Eddie’s eyes, wide and frantic, pupils contracted into pinpricks, take in the shadow’s face. And in between heartbeats, he feels his cheeks heat for an entirely different reason. They’re terrifying, the lack of blood in their complexion making them seem almost undead, but still— He knows, if he met this person in a completely different setting, he would’ve done a double take.
‘Oh no they’re hot.’
It’s a split second thought, one quickly pushed aside when he notices something else.
The canines in their smirk. Elongated, curved, impossibly sharp.
‘OH NO.’
‘THEY’RE A VAMPIRE.’
Eddie doesn’t even think twice when he lets go of the bat, taking several steps back and almost tripping on a stray rock in his hurry to move away. When he stumbles, though, a deathly cold hand steadies him.
“Wow, okay— Slow down, you’re going to hurt yourself at this rate.” The shadow says, their eyes leaving Eddie’s for the first time since they locked together to glance down to his unsteady feet. The hand resting between his waist and hip feel almost branding, the freezing chill so intense it passes through his W.A.S.P. tee to his skin. Meanwhile, his thoughts run so rampant he feels like he’s two steps from passing out.
Vampires, vampires— this has to be a joke, right? Mind controlling shadow monsters? Hell spawn looking bats? Plausible! He’s seen them! Almost used to them at this point! And this— this person, if he can even call them that, doesn’t look like they’ve been touched by the Upside Down and the remains of Vecna’s influence. No twisted flesh, goo black blood. If it weren’t for the glowing red eyes and fangs, they’d look almost human.
“Who are you?!” His voice is loud on the quiet night, embarrassingly high pitched. When Eddie tries pushing himself off their hold, his heart stutters when all he can do is squirm. It’s steady, firm, and it doesn’t even flinch no matter how roughly he pulls. After a second, they let go. “What are you??”
“Can you please stop screaming?”
“What are you doing in my trailer?!”
“Okay.” The shadow – vampire – sighs, actually stepping back and putting some space between the two. They raise their hands in surrender, like they’re trying to calm a rabid, scared animal, and Eddie instinctively glances towards them. Maybe a part of him expected them to be covered in blood, like the dramatic covers of those terrible Dracula books, but he’s surprised to find just dark painted nails, ends thinned into sharp points. But not at him, not at all.
He looks back into those damned eyes, the sign of mischief from before nowhere to be found now.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” They declare. “I’m not here to cause you, or anyone, any harm whatsoever.”
Eddie could cackle at that. HA YEAH RIGHT!
“Do you really think I believe that?!” He’s two steps away from shouting now, although he stopped trying to run away. Mostly because he doesn’t think he could reach his van in time. “Nice try, Dracula, I’m not falling for that shit!”
The vampire’s eyes lower a little at that, their head moving down as well like they’re trying to make themselves look smaller, less threatening. Or less visible, like a panther about to pounce. Still, their gaze never leaves his.
“What makes you think that?” Their tone sounds like a joke, the same teasing tilt from a minute ago when they were chucking pine cones to the back of his neck– but there’s a hint of something deeper that makes Eddie frown.
“Are you kidding?? Look at you!” He gestures wildly, eyes following his hands which point up and down their form. His own words catch up to him after a second, and the comeback dies at the very tip of the tongue.
“Look at you! As if trailer trash could actually do anything worth while!”
“Of course he’s a Munson. Could tell with a single look at his face. I bet my entire house he’s exactly like his father.”
“Did you see his hair? Yeah, totally a freak. Could tell from a look he’s into Satanism.”
Eddie swallows harshly.
“What are you doing here?” He tries to keep moving, not lingering on the sudden heaviness on the back of his mind.
The vampire hesitates for a beat, eyes still so static on his own it’s like they don’t even blink.
“I saw what you and your group have been doing around town.” Their voice is calm, slow, hands slowly lowering just a little but always making a point to be within his view. “I was passing through and was interested.”
The twitch of his brow is from confusion this time. ‘Saw my group?’ ‘They’ve been watching us?’ ‘Interested?’
“What?”
“I’ve been staying at the motel near the edge of town.” They gesture over their shoulder, jogging Eddie’s memory to the one entrance to Hawkins still open. “I travel around a lot. Happened to stop by. Was out about one night and saw you and some others fighting off a big, inhuman beast. Easy to declare, I got curious.”
Eddie eyes them for a long moment, the silence setting between them once more. Their words settle on his brain, slowly. It makes sense… As improbable as it feels, it makes sense.
His eyes close, instinctively, to try and scramble for a response.
“A-And you came to me?” He asks, and the vampire shrugs.
“You’re the first one I found. I was out for dinner, recognized your van and popped by.”
Simple as that, huh?
Yeah, he doesn’t believe a single word there.
But, if they are true, of course it’d be his luck to be the first to meet the undead newcomer. Very consistent, shitty universe.
“Don’t— Don’t come any closer.” He hates how his voice shakes when he says those words, the rings on his hand glinting in the moonlight when he raises it to try and keep them back. The other slides slowly to his jeans back pocket, reaching for the familiar comfort of his uncle's old switch blade. Something he kept all these years, mostly to keep him safe in those particularly shady deals, and something he hopes, prays, would help him now.
At that, the vampire's smirk returns. Mischievous, playful, borderline cocky. Something, in the depths of Eddie’s chest, tingles, warm. Creeping up his throat with the way they arch an eyebrow, burning up with way their raised hands curl.
“Or what? You’re gonna stab me?” He freezes. How–
A strong wind hits his face, a flurry of fallen leaves kicking up, and a soft voice whispers into his ear.
“Monster hunter.”
Ends on a bit of a cliffhanger because I wanted to post the first chapter on Hallowen and I'm a vry slow writer lol sorry.
I've got a lot planned for this one :] it's been simmering for a while so I hope you guys enjoy the ride as much as I will
WATCH ME PUT AS MANY HOZIER REFERENCES HUMANLY POSSIBLE IN EVERY CHAPTER HAHAHAHAHAHAH
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#reader insert#stranger things#stranger things x reader#moonlight🦇#or now that it's posted I can finally tag it as-#sunlight🦇#im really trying to channel marceline vibes in these lol#she's peak vampire there's nothing I can do#if i someday make a playlist for this thing#80% will be just hozier#sorry
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Put Your Head On My Shoulder
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
A/N: This Fandom has given me the most inspiration I've had in years and this is a thank you to every single one of you. This idea spurred from one too many drinks and unhinged DMs and I'm so excited to share it with you guys. So here goes nothing lol. A special thanks to my lady loves @lesservillain , @ghost-proofbaby , @bettyfrommars , and @bimbobaggins69 for beta reading and letting me fill your inboxes with all my little thots for our little gremlin man !
P.S : BEFORE I GET INTO ANYTHING THIS STORY IS 18+ MINORS NEED TO GTFO PLEASE AND THANK YOU !!!!! Also please remember to like and reblog from your creators It keeps the fandom alive !!! ( honestly don't know what I would do without ya'll )
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader ( Pumpkin )
Summary: A 1950's daydream of malt shop kisses and doo wop singles far behind closed doors. Dreamboat Eddie Munson picks up more than just an extra route. A love that makes you weak in the knees... but how long can you go on loving a man that isn't the one your married to.
TW: Angst- mentions of an affair (adultery), verbal abuse mentions, mentions of weight ( mentions of food within the story throughout), disordered eating, feeling unloved, self deprecation slightly, staying with toxic partner Fluff- pet names, domestic bliss, mutual pining Smut- fingering, soft touches, overstimulation slightly very slight, unprotected PIV, cream pie, spanking,..... tbh i can't think of anymore but if you see any please let me know ... Thank you all so much. ( every chapter will get updated tw)
WC: 4.1K
Flour covers the countertop in your kitchen, and a rolling pin is set to the side while you knead the soft pastry ingredients together. Apples sit freshly peeled in a separate dish. Sliced and added to sugar and cinnamon. Picking up the rolling pin, you do your best to flatten the dough to a thin sheet and mold it to the glass dish before you.
“Well, this dough is much better than the first,” you say aloud to yourself. Your husband once told you that speaking out loud to yourself was a sign of a weak mind, you never put much stock in that. But here you were doing exactly that as your days consist of waiting for your husband to return home from work.
You splash a bit of vanilla into the apple mixture to complete your pie filling. Once it is all tucked neatly beneath the fluffy dough, you take a knife and leave four little holes within the surface and crimp the edges together, sealing the flavors within. A touch of sugar is added to the top along with an egg wash before placing the pie on a rack in the oven. A timer is set for twenty minutes, a reminder to lower the temperature and to add your special ingredient.
Soft music plays throughout the house, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald keep you company on these long lonely days. Lonely but only for such a short time. Your husband works for the state doing something he thinks you're too dumb to understand so why talk about it? If anyone ever asks you simply say ‘Oh please you think a woman wants to know such things’. That usually earns you a laugh at cocktail parties and a warm smile from your man. If you could even call him that.
Yes, he is your man in the sense that your last names are the same and you had shared the same bed. Where is the love though? It isn’t tangible and hasn’t been for quite some time now. Your day begins and ends with a few words apart from an I love you. You served him still, acted to the prying eyes, as a doting Wife. Four years and Everyone still thought you had a perfect life.
That dream of white picket fences and shared milkshakes. That love of never-ending kisses and satisfying sex. Everyone around you wanted all that you had. Would they still want your life if they could see past those closed doors and shut curtains?
Would they want to spend their mornings hiding the bags under their eyes from nights of restless sleep? Would they want to have a constant monologue of the flaws seen in the mirror? Ones that your oh-so-loving husband pointed out to you time and time again. Would they want to cook and clean knowing they would never receive a thank you? No, you knew they wouldn’t. All the small things that build and grow until it becomes a monotonous routine. Walking through days as if the next would be the exact same and then doing it all again and again, Until one day something changed.
Two months prior A knock on the door, one that started to come once a week. The company of CC & Drums Dairy was paid to bring you a gallon of milk, A necessity your husband called it. A man with long dark locks that flowed over his shoulder and curls that dipped across his forehead under his cap. Deep Brown eyes that sparkled with flecks of amber as the sun hit him just right. Dressed in white overalls to comply with his company uniform and sleek black shoes that shine just as brightly as his smile. His name tag reads Eddie in a sweet embroidered cursive. Eddie, a name that would soon become something you would never forget.
Your timer goes off as you check the pie, squeezing a lemon over the crust for that citrus tang. Slipping the dessert back into the oven, for another half hour or so, a knock sounds through the house, sending the butterflies in your stomach in a tizzy. Eddie had arrived.
A quick task of undoing the strings to your apron and a fast fix of hair in the mirror you had hung in the hall. A hand to your abdomen as you intake a breath and let it stagger out between your lips, hesitating to open the door. The second you see him you can feel the way the tops of your cheeks heat and plump with a smile. One that matches his.
You take a second and wonder if he knows how handsome he is. The way the small lines beside his eyes crinkle with years of use. You wonder if he knows that the instant you see him, your heart stops beating. But most of all you wonder if you're the only one those soft eyes and long lashes catch in his gaze.
“Afternoon darling, I must say this heat wave has got to be breaking records. Ought not keep these out here too long.” as he lifts the small crate of glass bottles holding the product out.
You knew better than to take it from him, even if every bone in your body screamed too. The last time you tried you nearly flipped the whole crate, underestimating the weight. From that day on you always stood to the side as you let Eddie into your home to set the dairy in your kitchen. It was another thing you wondered about him. Did he do this for everyone else too?
“ Well let's not keep them then sir.” standing to the side he slides past you brushing a hand across the elbow you held to the door. His way of saying hello. Small touches here and there as he could never keep his hands to himself for too long in your presence.
“ Something smells awful delicious in her ma’am.”
“An Apple pie is in the oven, maybe you’ll stay and have a slice. For your troubles of course.”
“Mhmm, my troubles.” Eddie sat the crate on the counter next to the ice box and turned his body towards you and enveloped you in his stronghold. An intoxicating embrace as he pulled you flush to his body.
“ I missed you, you know that pretty girl?” soft tone, almost a whisper. A small smile he couldn't see but could feel made its way to your face.
“I bet you say that to all the girls on your route.” he lets out a small chuckle.
“Only the breathtaking ones.” a falter to your features as your mind reeled with all the possibilities.
Does he miss Mrs.Cunningham the way he misses you? Does he miss Ms.Buckley the same? That sick green monster finds its way under your skin as you think of all the girls he must have at his beck and call. But today that monster wasn’t going to ruin the few fleeting moments you could spend with him. You needed Eddie in the most carnal of ways.
“Do you want to know what I missed? “ Your fingers trail their way from the small of his back and up over his shoulder, landing on his neck just below his ear. Cupping his face you bring it down and catch his lips as they meet yours.
“Oh yeah? you missed me too Pumpkin?” a second crash of your lips to his, makes him hum from the back of his throat. His nose nudges yours to the left so his teeth can catch your bottom lip, pulling back slightly to hear the small whine you emit.
“I always miss you, Eddie.” His hands travel down over your figure as he starts to ruffle the hem of your dress up. Thankful for its length to hide how wet you had become just from him being in the home you share with your spouse. A topic you and Eddie tried to steer clear of, but the wrongness of the act just felt so right.
Over a year your husband hadn’t touched you, barely talked to you and some days you were even sure he hadn't even looked in your direction. Eddie though, In the last two months, Eddie had made you feel seen. He made you feel heard, and most of all he made you feel desired.
As his hand finds the thin cotton that covers your cunt he glides his digits over the wet patch that had grown by just the thought of him. A deep hum and a small huff of breath from Eddie against your neck as he kissed his way to your shoulder.
“So wet for me and I've barely even touched you. Are you that starved for affection?” The words forming in that sweet small surrender to him were all but cut off as he slid a finger through your folds and teased your entrance. A gasp was the response he got, one he loved to hear in protest every time he had you.
“C’mon honey tell me what you want.” how could you respond to him with words if you couldn't even think of them? The man before you had spent the last few months discovering just how to make you melt in his arms.
He knew that the spot behind your knee was his best friend for when he had you on your back. He knew the way your hips stutter when you're close to your peak, and he knew that if your eyes found that they couldn't stay open that you were in utter bliss.
His favorite thing he had learned throughout your time together though was that even when he knew you had your doubts, you still trusted him in every sense of the word.
After only two months Eddie knew you better than you know yourself. Better than your husband had ever cared to know you.
“ Please, Eddie.” He smiled down at you
“ Please What Honey?”
“ Dip in Eddie, Fuck me please.” He could feel the slackening of your legs as his assault on your clit had made you a bit sensitive, in his focus on making you feel as good as he possibly could, in what little time he had with you. He slid two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat as his thumb stayed in a rhythm that matched his wrist as he curled in and let the sounds of his efforts echo off the small kitchen walls.
Moaning into Eddie's ear as his finger worked in and out of you making that heat inside of you grow higher and higher. Clutching the strap of his overalls, a small pull leaning back, as the pleasure he was giving you kept climbing.
“ Come on now baby, let go.” A final intake of air, hold on to the breath that led you to your walls squeezing eddies fingers tight. That coil snapped as you let your body fall slack against him a loud moan from the farthest depths within you found its way out of your lungs.
When your eyes land on Eddie after your come down all you can see is that smile. The dimple-creasing smile that kept haunting your dreams at night.
“I need more.” You didn’t know how but his smile grew even wider and more sinister as his tone began to deepen. A kiss is pressed to your lips, not urgent, understanding.
“ You need more? Well, it's a damn good thing that what you're asking for is in stock then Pumpkin.” He turned you around to face the small table that sat in your kitchen, knowing what he wanted from you. He wasn’t the only one taking notes from your time together.
You braced yourself against the worn wood and clutched the sides of it as you heard the familiar clinks of metal as his rings fumbled with the buckle of his belt.
The wait, though it is small, is brutal. Anticipation makes your stomach flip and cunt flutter. A shuffle out of his overalls gives Eddie a moment to just admire the way you listen so well. These small moments have him thanking every bad decision that got him here. To this small town, with this small job, on this small route. A route he picked up as a last resort. Yeah, he doesn't know who he's praying to but whoever is listening, he's singing grace.
A grip in the slight pudge of your hips to keep himself steady, Eddie is gentle as he slips his cock through your folds gathering your slick over his length and breaching your desire. A deep moan and a few choice words fall from Eddie as he fills you and meets the small wavering gasp you let out, a breath you didn't know you had been holding. A whine of impatience, his sign to move.
A soft speed turns ravenous as his dick uses your walls to curve his hooks into you deeper and deeper. A sigh of his name and you can feel the stutter in his thrust. He slows his pace if only to keep himself from having to leave your presence all too soon.
"Fuck darling, so good to me, taking me so well like this pussy was made for me." You mewl from beneath him, dropping your forehead to the wood that is holding you up. You fear that if it had not been here your legs would have given up the second he started talking. "Isn't that right pumpkin? Made just for me? " A sharp thrust and you know he wants an answer in the way his grip turns bruising. A trip through your mind as you try and collect the words from thin air.
"YES! God yes, I was made just for you."
"Such a good girl for me baby. That's right, isn't it? You're all mine aren't you?" Another squeeze to your hip and a smack that lands hard on your ass. Eddie's palm kneads the sting as you answer him.
" All yours, all yours, no one else, just you baby." A grunt hum from the back of his throat as he grips your shoulder and leans so his body is flush with yours. His breath is on your neck as he leans to your ear.
"Not even your husband, just you and me baby?"
"Just you and me Ed's" Your eyes tunnel and you see white as your orgasm rushes through you, Eddie's own a thrust away as he moans deep against your skin. His body weight and yours against the kitchen table as you both find your way down from the clouds.
Small kisses he leaves to your spine and the back of your neck. You turn your head and he places another small one to the upturned corner of your mouth. A bell chimes and you sit for a few seconds letting Eddie gather his own bearings. A small pat to the curve of your pussy as Eddie pulls the cotton back in place. A shock to your sensitivity.
"Keep that in there baby, that way you have a part of me while I'm gone." A heat to your cheeks as the thought of Eddie's cum dripping out of you while your husband sat across from you and read the paper over dinner. A sly smirk from the man you just let defile the small space, one you would let do ungodly things to you.
You put on oven mitts as Eddie finds a few glasses in the cabinet. You slice into the flakey crust and slip through the filling as you place the large piece on a plate for you to share. Eddie pours milk as you find some silverware, he places the bottles in your fridge so they keep.
Turning with a smile, he is the definition of adoration. In your eyes he is everything.
Why is it that when his time with you is coming to an end you almost wish it would end as soon as possible? Almost as if you would wish he would part with some harsh words to make you not want him in the most beautiful ways. You have to make yourself believe these things before he leaves because if you don’t, it would just shatter you. So you take a different route, you don’t shatter yourself, instead, you splinter and crack all the things that hold you until you see him again. The times where he glues those little shards back in place if only for you to break them off again and again. A scared thought and a small shake of your head trying to rid yourself of it. A married woman. What would he possibly want from you other than a good lay?
He sees that doubt within your mind as if reading it. He takes your hand in his as he laces your fingers together.
“ Penny for your thoughts Pumpkin?” You glance finally meeting his eyes as you clear your throat.
“ Nothing important hun.” You slide a fork to his side of the table as your eyes dart to the clock. He squeezes your hand once more, lowering his eyes in search of yours again.
“It is important if it bothers you.” Your heart stops. The breath you were going to take gets caught in your throat and you turn on that winning smile you had trained yourself to hold in uncomfortable circumstances. One you wish he couldn't see through.
“ It’s nothing Eds, really.”
“Do you promise?” you take a hand and cup his cheek.
How do you tell him that he is your first thought in the morning and the last thought before falling asleep? How instead of counting sheep you try and count the freckles on his face by sheer memory? How could you tell him you wish you were his one and only? That you have never felt about another human soul the way you feel about his. Instead, you stuff it down, apple pie soon to follow.
“I Promise.”
You know he doesn’t believe you but he would rather set out to sea and die of starvation as the sharks feed from him than to make the last moments he has with you tainted with fights and tears. God when you cry it absolutely destroys him.
The first time you had ever let him take you in his arms you had just gotten off the phone with your husband. He had heard hushed words while he waited for you to grab the weekly tip your husband left for him. Your husband had informed you that he would not be coming home, as the fight from the night before had lingered into the morning and would now follow you well into the night. The first time you had opened the door Eddie studied the angelic features of your face, and they had plagued his dreams for such a long time at this point.
When you rounded the corner with a smudge of mascara beneath your eyes, he instantly without thinking took you in, pushing your face to his chest as his hand rested on the back of your head. Slight comfort made the tears begin again as he wiped the remainder of the smudge and irritation from your face. No man had ever done something as small as comforting you before. In the two months since he had started this route, he knew he had instantly fallen head over heels in love with you.
You had taken two bites from the plate that sat in front of you and Eddie had finished the slice. He even went as far as to slide a finger in the crumbs on the plate and lick them off in an attempt to show you how much he had enjoyed it. His time with you.
A gathering of glasses you brought to the sink as he brought the other dishes and sat them in the deep well while wrapping his arms around your waist and you stood eyes closed relishing in the last little bit of affection he could offer to you.
A kiss to your shoulder as you turn your head resting it on his.
“I’ll be by in a week Pumpkin.” A nod to the fact you already knew. “ Seven days.” Another nod, not risking the crumble in your voice. “ Not long at all.” Another small kiss to your cheek as you turned into his chest and rested your forehead on his.
“Seven days?”
“ Seven days Pumpkin. Do you think you can wait for me? Just seven days? “
“I think I could wait a lifetime for you Eddie.”
“I’ll see you in a week, Mrs.Carver.”
“ A week Mr.Munson.”
A kiss to your lips and a parting gift of his very own pie before he snuck out through the back door, so as to not raise suspicion. A slow walk from the kitchen to the door and to turn a lock, on your mind. On your hope. You could do this. You could wait seven days.
Your husband comes through the door late as he had been doing for the last year or so. You had expected it from him at this point. You had started to make his dinner later and later knowing that if you had made it too early he would tell you all the ways he couldn't eat it. If it had gone too cold he would refuse and the hard work would go directly into the trash.
He walked in as you took his dinner off the stove and placed it on a dish for him.
“Right on time doll.”
“ I don’t know how on time it is, It’s Nearly eight in the evening, Jason!”
“ I’m not doing this with you tonight.”
He always did this. He would come home and you would ask him where he had been, and he’d always end the conversation before it could even begin. You sat his plate in front of him as you sat across the table from him. Times where you could really take him in and see that the feelings you had once long ago were snuffed out like a flame to a candle.
“ Are you not eating dear?”
“ I ate a bit earlier in the day.”
“Thanks for waiting .” He rolled his eyes and you returned the gesture.
“ I wouldn’t have had to wait if you had just picked up the phone and told me when you were going to be on your way home. I’m not waiting until we hit a new day to eat Jason I’m not going hungry just so you-”
“ Wouldn’t harm you any though would it.”
You left the table. Your weight had started to become a key focus as he knew it bothered you more than anything else. You had gained some weight and your mother and friends had commented on it from time to time. For your husband to tho, it made you furious. You ate when you were unhappy, it was something you had done since you were a child. The only person who thought you could stand to eat a little more had been Eddie.
It happened slowly, you would make him food now and then, and the majority of the time He would offer you a bit. It started with a bite and progressed into cutting his sandwiches in half just so you could have something to eat. Unlike your husband, Eddie had a suspicion that you weren’t eating enough. Like you weren’t giving your body what it needed to survive so he would constantly ask for you to eat with him. At least then he would know you had something of substance within your day.
You had gone to your bedroom and gotten out of your daily’s slowly separating them into their hampers waiting to hear the stomping footsteps of Jason as he made his way to the spare bedroom. He had taken residency there about a month before Eddie came into your life and you were thankful for the times that Eddie left you yearning for more. To call out another man's name while with your significant other no matter how insignificant they were would still bring you shame like no other.
Slipping into your nightgown as Jason shuts the door to his room you wait a few minutes to take the walk back down the stairs to stand in front of the sink. Looking up at the sky through the window above the stars seem to shine brightly. You attempt to find the little dipper and look for its companion not far from where it lays, the version of a larger size. Constellations begin to blur as you let the silent tears fall. Hoping that somewhere out there in this little old town, Eddie too is looking up at the moon and wishing you were by his side as you wished upon all the stars in the sky. What a long time seven days would be.
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